LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Your mood is a little down right now, so you might find it easier to just nap or otherwise dawdle the day away. Things are going to get better pretty soon, especially if one special person comes your way!
Laura’s Log:
I am so mad at myself! I fell into a dark funk last night over the fact that stupid Ken didn’t think I was worthy of a second date. Sure, I went through a rage cycle. Screw him! He’s a loser! Still obsessed with a girlfriend from a year ago,…creepy! Putting him down didn’t make me feel any better. A bit worse, in fact. If he was a loser, what did it mean when even losers were summarily rejecting me now? Thirty-two and single, prospects dimming. I walked to the convenience store across the street, bought a tub of Häagen-Dazs Mint Chip and consumed the whole thing in five joyless minutes. Fell asleep right after that and then had to get up at one in the morning to let poor Tupper out. He’s the innocent in all this. My suffering shouldn’t add to his. I’m not worthy of dating and I suck at taking care of my dog.
When my alarm went off, the night’s pseudo rest hadn’t helped my mood or my facial complexion. Raccoon eyes. Datelessness shall extend into perpetuity!
I kept to myself during morning break and lunch. Pretty much worked right through. Background research on savings and loan ad campaigns was infinitely more fascinating than my life. Went home straight after work, let Tupper out and decided to cocoon in bed. Maybe the Canucks will put in another good game and give me a little pleasure.
KEN’S JOURNAL:
SARA CALLED RIGHT AFTER GETTING THE KIDS OFF TO SCHOOL THIS MORNING. “I’M SORRY I DIDN’T CALL YESTERDAY. EVERYTHING WAS…WELL, WHAT IT ALWAYS IS THESE DAYS. HOW’D YOU MAKE OUT?”
“IT SUCKED, SARA. THE MILESTONES SUCK.”
“YEAH.”
NOTHING MORE TO SAY. FOR DIFFERENT REASONS, WE WERE BOTH EMOTIONALLY SPENT.
“I NEED TO GET OUT OF THE HOUSE,” SHE FINALLY SAID. “I’M THINKING OF GETTING BACK INTO MY PHOTOGRAPHY.” GREAT NEWS! SHE NEEDED SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT BESIDES BEING A WIFE AND MOTHER, ESPECIALLY SINCE NEITHER ROLE HAD BEEN PARTICULARLY SATISFYING LATELY. SHE CAME BY MY PLACE AND WE WALKED UP TO ART BEATUS GALLERY TO SEE A NEW PHOTOGRAPHIC EXHIBIT CALLED STREETHEADS. I TEND TO STRUGGLE IN GRASPING WHAT MAKES A PHOTOGRAPH SO COMPELLING, BUT SARA WAS IN HER ELEMENT. AFTER ONLY A COUPLE OF MINUTES, SHE WAS MOVED TO TEARS. I WONDERED IF IT WAS SOLELY ON ACCOUNT OF THE ART OR IF SHE JUST NEEDED ANOTHER CHANNEL FOR LETTING OUT HER DOMESTIC WOES.
WE ATE LEBANESE FOOD AT NUBA. BOTH OF US WENT BACK TO BEING SUBDUED. AFTER WALKING BACK TO MY PLACE, SHE HEADED HOME AND I CLIMBED BACK INTO BED. I DIDN’T HAVE THE ENERGY TO DO ANYTHING BEFORE THE CANUCKS GAME. EVEN WITHOUT A JOB, MONDAYS SEEM LIKE THE WORST DAY OF THE WEEK.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
A NO-SHOW IN THE FAMILY
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You’re stuck in the past in some small way today, and you might have to struggle to come back to reality. Even the hottest ringtone isn’t guaranteed to get your attention at this point, so watch out.
Laura’s Log:
Family brunch proved more dysfunctional than usual. Estelle and Lucy showed, their conversation going as deep as “Pass the salt” and “Whose earring is this?” All around awkward. Marella wasn’t having any of it. She grabbed me as she headed out to the back deck for a smoke. “Christ, what the fuck is with everybody?”
I filled Marella in and she rolled her eyes. “How the hell did I get stuck in the world’s most boring soap opera? Why doesn’t one of them just choke the other so this fucking fight is done with?”
When Marella starts to sound (more) like a sailor, it means she’s not getting any. While I’ve proven I can go months, even years, without sex, Marella falls apart after a week. A spurned Marella is a spewing Marella. I shouldn’t have, but I went there. “How’s the dating going these days?”
“Fuck dating! All men are pricks!” So predictable. I had to giggle. “Fuck you! What’s so great about your dating life?”
Nothing. Joke over. Ken hadn’t bothered to call after the first date. That’s what I get for thinking I had the upper hand. A questionably worthy guy got to take control and authoritatively say I was the unworthy one. I headed inside, done with the fresh air. The cigarette smoke was ruining it all anyway.
When the meal was served, Dad’s seat remained empty. Mom explained, “Your father insisted on going in to work today. I swear they take him for granted.” She got it half right anyway.
Where was Dad? It didn’t surprise me that he was a no-show for the family meal. He wouldn’t have been great company—not that Marella and the feuding Lucy and Estelle were. He wouldn’t want to fake it in answering the offhand “How’s work?”
Back home, there was only a voicemail from Jenny saying she was coming over from the Sunshine Coast at some point this week. Could she stay at my place?
I’d call her back later. For the time being, all I could do was yank the phone cord out of the outlet. Its silence was killing me.
KEN’S JOURNAL:
HOW THE HELL DID MAY COME ALONG SO FAST? I HATE MAY 2 MORE THAN ANY OTHER DAY OF THE YEAR. AT LEAST THIS TIME IT HAD THE COMMON SENSE TO BE COLD AND RAINY. GLOOMY WEATHER FOR A MISERABLE OCCASION.
FOUR YEARS AGO TODAY, MOM DIED. SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE MADE A FULL RECOVERY. FUCKING CANCER! GONE AT 56. AND MOTHER’S DAY IS A WEEK AWAY. MORE MISERY. NORMALLY SARA & I GET TOGETHER ON THE 2ND—GO FOR A WALK OR GRAB A COFFEE. ANYTHING SO AS NOT TO FACE IT ALONE. SHE’S TOO CONSUMED W/FAMILY DRAMA. I DIDN’T DARE CALL.
I’M HAVING A HARD TIME COPING. IF I SO MUCH AS BLINK, I VISUALIZE MOM. NOT THE TIMES WHEN SHE WALKED US TO SCHOOL OR MADE US CHOCOLATE SUNDAES. ALL I SEE IS A CLUMP OF HER HAIR IN HER HAND OR HER BODY HOOKED UP TO MACHINES.
FOUR YEARS AGO. WHOEVER SAID, “TIME HEALS ALL WOUNDS” WAS A FUCKIN’ MORON. WHAT KIND OF WOUNDS DID HE KNOW ABOUT? MOSQUITO BITES? STUBBED TOES? CANCER STOLE MY MOTHER. SHE CAN’T BE REPLACED. SHE CAN’T BE FORGOTTEN.
Laura’s Log:
Family brunch proved more dysfunctional than usual. Estelle and Lucy showed, their conversation going as deep as “Pass the salt” and “Whose earring is this?” All around awkward. Marella wasn’t having any of it. She grabbed me as she headed out to the back deck for a smoke. “Christ, what the fuck is with everybody?”
I filled Marella in and she rolled her eyes. “How the hell did I get stuck in the world’s most boring soap opera? Why doesn’t one of them just choke the other so this fucking fight is done with?”
When Marella starts to sound (more) like a sailor, it means she’s not getting any. While I’ve proven I can go months, even years, without sex, Marella falls apart after a week. A spurned Marella is a spewing Marella. I shouldn’t have, but I went there. “How’s the dating going these days?”
“Fuck dating! All men are pricks!” So predictable. I had to giggle. “Fuck you! What’s so great about your dating life?”
Nothing. Joke over. Ken hadn’t bothered to call after the first date. That’s what I get for thinking I had the upper hand. A questionably worthy guy got to take control and authoritatively say I was the unworthy one. I headed inside, done with the fresh air. The cigarette smoke was ruining it all anyway.
When the meal was served, Dad’s seat remained empty. Mom explained, “Your father insisted on going in to work today. I swear they take him for granted.” She got it half right anyway.
Where was Dad? It didn’t surprise me that he was a no-show for the family meal. He wouldn’t have been great company—not that Marella and the feuding Lucy and Estelle were. He wouldn’t want to fake it in answering the offhand “How’s work?”
Back home, there was only a voicemail from Jenny saying she was coming over from the Sunshine Coast at some point this week. Could she stay at my place?
I’d call her back later. For the time being, all I could do was yank the phone cord out of the outlet. Its silence was killing me.
KEN’S JOURNAL:
HOW THE HELL DID MAY COME ALONG SO FAST? I HATE MAY 2 MORE THAN ANY OTHER DAY OF THE YEAR. AT LEAST THIS TIME IT HAD THE COMMON SENSE TO BE COLD AND RAINY. GLOOMY WEATHER FOR A MISERABLE OCCASION.
FOUR YEARS AGO TODAY, MOM DIED. SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE MADE A FULL RECOVERY. FUCKING CANCER! GONE AT 56. AND MOTHER’S DAY IS A WEEK AWAY. MORE MISERY. NORMALLY SARA & I GET TOGETHER ON THE 2ND—GO FOR A WALK OR GRAB A COFFEE. ANYTHING SO AS NOT TO FACE IT ALONE. SHE’S TOO CONSUMED W/FAMILY DRAMA. I DIDN’T DARE CALL.
I’M HAVING A HARD TIME COPING. IF I SO MUCH AS BLINK, I VISUALIZE MOM. NOT THE TIMES WHEN SHE WALKED US TO SCHOOL OR MADE US CHOCOLATE SUNDAES. ALL I SEE IS A CLUMP OF HER HAIR IN HER HAND OR HER BODY HOOKED UP TO MACHINES.
FOUR YEARS AGO. WHOEVER SAID, “TIME HEALS ALL WOUNDS” WAS A FUCKIN’ MORON. WHAT KIND OF WOUNDS DID HE KNOW ABOUT? MOSQUITO BITES? STUBBED TOES? CANCER STOLE MY MOTHER. SHE CAN’T BE REPLACED. SHE CAN’T BE FORGOTTEN.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
TIME FOR FAMILY
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You need to show your family just how much you care — it’s easy! Your good social energy helps you express your innermost emotions with delicate ease, so get in there and start doing some communicating.
Laura’s Log:
Neither Mom nor Dad was home when I stopped by last night. I headed home to find no messages on my voicemail. No call from Ken. It surprised me that I was disappointed.
Got up this morning and headed to my parents’, Tupper in tow. Dad likes dogs and I thought Tupps could bring a little cheer. I found Dad in his usual spot in the garage. He was tinkering with an old clock that I remembered being in the family room when I was a kid.
“Gosh, where did you find that?!” I asked. “And why are you fiddling with it? Just chuck it.”
Dad answered gruffly, “Just ’cuz something’s old doesn’t mean you dump it.” And just like that, we weren’t talking about the clock anymore.
“Are you okay, Dad?”
“No.” I waited for more, but that was it. Tupper wiggled his tail and nudged up against his leg, but Dad ignored the dog. Confirmation that everything was not all right. I suggested a walk with the dog or our regular trek to Café Calabria.
“Pass. I’ve got a clock to fix.”
“That’s it, Dad. We’re going for coffee. I’m just going to hand Tupper over to Mom.”
When I returned, no Dad. It felt like a little kid running away. His car was still in the driveway so I took to the street. As I turned down Commercial, I spotted him ducking into the produce store. Tagged him at the cheese counter. We had an audience, not something either of us likes, but I had to speak my mind before he whacked me in the knee with a can of Roma tomatoes and tried to make another mad dash. “You’re upset. I get it. Hell, I’d be pissed.”
“Watch your language. I don’t like hearing you talk like that.”
“Dad, you’ve lost your job. Right now, I can tell you feel you’ve lost more than that.”
“My honor. My dignity. After all those years…”
I put a hand on each of his shoulders and looked right into his eyes. “So find a silver lining. You’re always working even when you’re not on the clock. Slow down.”
He back up, letting my arms fall to my sides. “You slow down, you die. Albert Festeriga died three weeks after he retired. Joe Baderkowski was let go and died only a week later.”
“So do something new. Hang out with your grandkids. Play Bocce. Stain the back deck.”
And, with a crowd watching, Dad started shaking. He teared up. Then he leaned into me and all I could do was hold him. I started crying, too. Dad gave everything to his work and now they’d sent him out on their timeline with Dad feeling utterly worthless and lacking a sense of direction.
Still holding him, I managed to shuffle us closer to the less crowded freezer section. Once recovered, we headed for coffee. He didn’t want to talk about his predicament so we talked Canucks. And, for some reason, I mentioned my date with Ken.
“Don’t tell Mom,” I cautioned.
“Of course not! I wouldn’t do that to you.” A jest at Mom’s expense only brought us closer.
KEN’S JOURNAL:
ROUNDED UP ETHAN, BELLA AND RUDY TO TAKE THEM TO CAPILANO SUSPENSION BRIDGE THIS MORNING. SARA AND JERRY NEEDED SOME TIME W/TRAVIS. THEY’RE TRYING A FAMILY COUNSELOR.
“I’VE BEEN TO THAT STUPID BRIDGE LIKE 57 TIMES,” RUDY GRIPED. NEITHER BELLA NOR ETHAN HOPPED ON THE BAD MOOD TRAIN.
“WELL, WHERE DO YOU WANT TO GO WHEN WE’RE DONE?”
“HOME. HOW COME TRAVIS RULES EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS TO ME?” I GLANCED IN THE REARVIEW MIRROR. JUST THE MENTION OF TRAVIS’ NAME MADE THE OTHER TWO TENSE.
BELLA GOT TEARY. “I HAVE TOO MANY BROTHERS. HOW COME I’M THE ONLY GIRL? IT’S NOT FAIR. IF TRAVIS GOT SENT TO JAIL, IT WOULD A BIT FAIRER.”
DID SARA KNOW THIS? DID TRAVIS? THE KIDS RESENTED HIM. HATED HIM…AND NOT IN THE NORMAL SIBLING RIVALRY WAY. HOW MUCH COULD ONE COUNSELOR DO? AND HOW FAST?
AFTER THE BRIDGE, WE DIDN’T GO STRAIGHT HOME. WE HAD LUNCH AT DQ. SURE THE KIDS LOVED IT, BUT IT WAS A SELFISH DECISION. I NEEDED A TREAT.
Laura’s Log:
Neither Mom nor Dad was home when I stopped by last night. I headed home to find no messages on my voicemail. No call from Ken. It surprised me that I was disappointed.
Got up this morning and headed to my parents’, Tupper in tow. Dad likes dogs and I thought Tupps could bring a little cheer. I found Dad in his usual spot in the garage. He was tinkering with an old clock that I remembered being in the family room when I was a kid.
“Gosh, where did you find that?!” I asked. “And why are you fiddling with it? Just chuck it.”
Dad answered gruffly, “Just ’cuz something’s old doesn’t mean you dump it.” And just like that, we weren’t talking about the clock anymore.
“Are you okay, Dad?”
“No.” I waited for more, but that was it. Tupper wiggled his tail and nudged up against his leg, but Dad ignored the dog. Confirmation that everything was not all right. I suggested a walk with the dog or our regular trek to Café Calabria.
“Pass. I’ve got a clock to fix.”
“That’s it, Dad. We’re going for coffee. I’m just going to hand Tupper over to Mom.”
When I returned, no Dad. It felt like a little kid running away. His car was still in the driveway so I took to the street. As I turned down Commercial, I spotted him ducking into the produce store. Tagged him at the cheese counter. We had an audience, not something either of us likes, but I had to speak my mind before he whacked me in the knee with a can of Roma tomatoes and tried to make another mad dash. “You’re upset. I get it. Hell, I’d be pissed.”
“Watch your language. I don’t like hearing you talk like that.”
“Dad, you’ve lost your job. Right now, I can tell you feel you’ve lost more than that.”
“My honor. My dignity. After all those years…”
I put a hand on each of his shoulders and looked right into his eyes. “So find a silver lining. You’re always working even when you’re not on the clock. Slow down.”
He back up, letting my arms fall to my sides. “You slow down, you die. Albert Festeriga died three weeks after he retired. Joe Baderkowski was let go and died only a week later.”
“So do something new. Hang out with your grandkids. Play Bocce. Stain the back deck.”
And, with a crowd watching, Dad started shaking. He teared up. Then he leaned into me and all I could do was hold him. I started crying, too. Dad gave everything to his work and now they’d sent him out on their timeline with Dad feeling utterly worthless and lacking a sense of direction.
Still holding him, I managed to shuffle us closer to the less crowded freezer section. Once recovered, we headed for coffee. He didn’t want to talk about his predicament so we talked Canucks. And, for some reason, I mentioned my date with Ken.
“Don’t tell Mom,” I cautioned.
“Of course not! I wouldn’t do that to you.” A jest at Mom’s expense only brought us closer.
KEN’S JOURNAL:
ROUNDED UP ETHAN, BELLA AND RUDY TO TAKE THEM TO CAPILANO SUSPENSION BRIDGE THIS MORNING. SARA AND JERRY NEEDED SOME TIME W/TRAVIS. THEY’RE TRYING A FAMILY COUNSELOR.
“I’VE BEEN TO THAT STUPID BRIDGE LIKE 57 TIMES,” RUDY GRIPED. NEITHER BELLA NOR ETHAN HOPPED ON THE BAD MOOD TRAIN.
“WELL, WHERE DO YOU WANT TO GO WHEN WE’RE DONE?”
“HOME. HOW COME TRAVIS RULES EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS TO ME?” I GLANCED IN THE REARVIEW MIRROR. JUST THE MENTION OF TRAVIS’ NAME MADE THE OTHER TWO TENSE.
BELLA GOT TEARY. “I HAVE TOO MANY BROTHERS. HOW COME I’M THE ONLY GIRL? IT’S NOT FAIR. IF TRAVIS GOT SENT TO JAIL, IT WOULD A BIT FAIRER.”
DID SARA KNOW THIS? DID TRAVIS? THE KIDS RESENTED HIM. HATED HIM…AND NOT IN THE NORMAL SIBLING RIVALRY WAY. HOW MUCH COULD ONE COUNSELOR DO? AND HOW FAST?
AFTER THE BRIDGE, WE DIDN’T GO STRAIGHT HOME. WE HAD LUNCH AT DQ. SURE THE KIDS LOVED IT, BUT IT WAS A SELFISH DECISION. I NEEDED A TREAT.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)