The Chicken Man. Oh yes, this is not about The Egg Man.
A little story…
Several years ago I met a man who I was instantly attracted to, I’ll call him The Biker Folk Singer, er , no that’s too long, I’ll call him M. (I will also say that I never gave The Forgiven or anyone else any inclination that I was uber attracted to M., I have more class than that) I could tell there was chemistry. But he had about a week sober and was pretty gray around the gills. I figured it was my broken picker going, once again, for a messed up alcoholic. Over the years he’s stuck around and has real sobriety. We have a casual friendship, always friendly, always a little something there. But he started dating someone when he had about 6 months. (not thought highly of in the programs but he was a newcomer and so was she and they didn’t know any better. And his picker was seriously broken too) Any way… Lots to tell behind the cut.
I don’t know why I can tell I just can. Problems are being solved in record time, answers coming. Found a refillable inexpensive fountain pen and was able to pay for them with a gift card so basically free. Met a friend for coffee, he is also my very first client, and got paid so I can make my car payment. Figured out that my laptop has a switch on the side that turns wireless on and off. Thank goodness I found that. Cuz I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t connect. Little things but I know that the *pop* is coming. When everything bursts out of the bottleneck that was 2008 and starts moving along quickly.
Not much to say, working on my assignments, cooking for myself again, reading books again, stitching again. All in all, feeling better than I have in some time. Yay me.
Dwayne: I wish I could just sleep until I was eighteen and skip all this crap-high school and everything-just skip it. Frank: Do you know who Marcel Proust is? Dwayne: He’s the guy you teach. Frank: Yeah. French writer. Total loser. Never had a real job. Unrequited love affairs. Gay. Spent 20 years writing a book almost no one reads. But he’s also probably the greatest writer since Shakespeare. Anyway, he uh… he gets down to the end of his life, and he looks back and decides that all those years he suffered, those were the best years of his life, ’cause they made him who he was. All those years he was happy? You know, total waste. Didn’t learn a thing. So, if you sleep until you’re 18… Ah, think of the suffering you’re gonna miss. I mean high school? High school-those are your prime suffering years. You don’t get better suffering than that.
Well, I guess that is all I really need to remember. The tough stuff? Is what has made me an amazing person living an unbelievable and interesting life. Gawd.
I am indeed a fortunate woman. Just when I think I can’t take one more thing someone(s) comes along and does something kind that helps.
No doubt I’ve had cabin fever. Almost two weeks without a meeting due to what seemed to be neverending snow. Ack! Not getting out much, too much alone time, cat’s that have begun writing their lawyers again, Miss Mitty especially has flipped between hating me deeply and loving me muchly.
My brother called and we had a nice talk. He was leaving in the morning for Budapest and wanted to check in with me. Give me a pep talk. I love my brother, it meant a lot to me.
I filled in for a cat sitter for a friend down the road, walking distance, the sitter couldn’t get through the snow. And the friend insisted I take the money that was left for the sitter. $50 cash. That was a nice boon. Little bits, little bits.
A ride from my sponsor’s husband to their house for a full day of family Christmas insanity. OMG. Some folks still do tons of presents for the holiday. Four generations and total pandemonium. It was just what I needed. I so needed to be around people; happy, sober people. Lots of life, lots of light, and the dinner, prime rib with all the trimmings, was so good I could barely move. After grace led by 7 year old Signe they all started singing Hark the Herald Angels Sing and they all forgot the words two lines in. So I sang the whole song for them. And then laughed and said it was funny that it was the Pagan who knew all the words. Fortunately they thought that was funny. HAR! I *love* Christmas music but until then hadn’t felt like singing it. Go me.
I’m back home to my tidy and quiet house, cats are fed which makes them happy, Miss Mitty especially, it’s the one thing that stops her from writing letters, the new gooshy food she’s been getting to gain weight. Whatever it takes. Watching Little Miss Sunshine because it makes me laugh and reminds me of my family, who I adore and who is funny and weird and who adore me too.
The snow is melting and I’ll easily make my meeting tomorrow night. I feel better if not richer but one day at a time right? All my needs are met. I’m warm, dry, content, and glad to be alive even with all.
Today was payday. Not a large one but one due from my small hour job at the University. For some reason I didn’t get paid. I can only assume that the person who was supposed to process my time sheet didn’t bother to do so before the snow hit and then the university closed for three days due to inclement weather. Unheard of. So no money for me the day before the holidays. Won’t get it until January 10th. OMG.
I. Just. Can’t. Take. This. Much. Longer.
Snowed in for 6 days, got out for some groceries yesterday so that is good but from now until the first week of the year there won’t be many job opps and chances are slim that I’ll get any calls for interviews. Housemate out of town until next week. Dad’s Birthday dinner for tonight was re-scheduled for Sunday due to even more snow today. Cabin fever and no money to spend if I could get out.
I’m starting to get seriously depressed and scared. I shouldn’t be sitting here, alone, on Christmas Eve crying. But so I am. I really need a fucking break.
Stitch Witch Cottage 