« April 2006 | Main | June 2006 »

May 2006 Archives

May 4, 2006

It was so cliché... a cheerleader dating a football jock.

We met in high school. It was the summer before my sophomore year and I had just gotten back from cheerleading* camp.

Julia the “new girl” had a party at her house to basically introduce herself to the rest of the kids at school. Julia had started the spring of our freshman year just before tryouts. Being an excellent gymnast and about 3 feet tall (and blonde with big hooters) meant that she was a shoe in for the squad.

She asked us during camp if we would come to her party and invite our friends. She had sent out an invitation to the football teams, JV and Varsity to attend as well. She promised it would be a great time and we were all curious about the tiny little hyper girl so we agreed to go. Also, the Clark football players were hot.

At Julia’s party a friend walked over to me and said, “There is someone who wants to meet you.”

Being all knees and elbows and not quite comfortable with my gawky-ness I walked (loped? cantered?) over with her to talk to a small gathering of guys that were hanging out in Julia’s kitchen. One of them was a friend of a friend. His name was Brent and he was hanging out with one of my best buddies, CC. There was one other guy standing with CC and Brent and this is who my girlfriend introduced me to.

“Susan, this is Tim… Tim, this is Susan.”

I was told my whole life that I was photogenic and that my smile was my best feature, hyper-aware of that fact (I felt like my hair was frizzy, my feet were too big and my legs were too long – giving me a stork-like appearance) I turned looked at Tim and flashed him a winning (hopefully photogenic) smile. Tim smiled back, I noted his gorgeous teeth, dimples, the tiny little curls at the base of his neck where his blonde hair met his collar, and that he was taller than me.

I held out my hand to introduce myself properly, “Hi. It is very nice to meet you,” I said. “Yeah, me too,” he said with a warm hand covering my own. His green eyes sparkled with mischief and I immediately found myself responding to his charm.

CC told me that Tim was a JV football player and that they knew each other from FFA (Future Farmers of America – shut up) and Ag (-riculture)… and from our previous middle school. Since I had known CC since I was twelve (or so); we met in the sixth or seventh grade; I was surprised that I had not met Tim before. Tim told me that his mother was a teacher; I knew her… she was my Algebra teacher the year before. And Tim knew my mother because she substitute taught all over the school district.

“Small world huh?” Tim offered with a wry smile.

By the end of the party that evening he had pulled me into his lap while he was sitting on the couch and opposed to jumping up and worrying about my weight, (“I am too fat to sit on this guy. What if I crush him!? Good Lord, please do not pick me up, it is very awkward to get out of your arms without putting my full weight on you and you’ll know how much I weigh!”) I stayed there. All the neurosis and over thinking that I did before were toned down that night.

He laughed easily and openly and I found myself laughing along. Relaxed.

Within weeks we were dating steadily.

We started dating the summer of 1987 and it was so cliché’ a cheerleader dating a football jock, but we made such a handsome couple.

We went to the movies and to dinner. We spent holidays with both of our families, going from one house to the other on special days. We laughed and shared friends. And during the freeze in the early spring of 1988 he and I were the only ones (well, it felt like we were the only ones) out and about because of his four-wheel drive flat-bed Ford.

We were lovers.

One day in late fall Tim and I had a date planned. He asked me to get ready early because he had a surprise. I got ready early and he picked me up. We left and drove north; he turned off of the main road and pulled into a dirt drive. We drove for a while and then almost out of nowhere this huge field of yellow flowers came into view. The flowers were about hip high and the yellow was so bright it almost hurt to look at it. We turned the radio up, left the windows down, got out of the truck and danced on the flatbed trailer of his truck.

He had brought a picnic for us to share, we ate during the sunset and then danced some more. The dancing turned into making love out under the stars.

That is what I remember most about the two (more than two?) years we dated. We made love like there was not going to be a tomorrow.

Our courtship was so fast paced and almost urgent that when the relationship ended I was surprised that neither one of us fought to keep it going. We hardly ever fought or had harsh words, it was just understood that I wouldn’t be number two and because of what happened with Terry (Terry cheated on me with a friend of mine – she wasn’t a friend after that) Tim knew that I would not hang around if he wanted to be with another and I knew that he and I had something that was special. We were friends and lovers and we were secure in our relationship. We hung out with our own friends and did not have to be attached at the hip every second.

One of the only fights I can remember was over Prom. I went to several my senior year. Because Tim didn’t ask me I planned the whole group outing with my friend Bean and his buddies. I was a free agent and quite ruthless about the whole thing.

I was an unattached girl/woman for most of my senior year and when I went to leave for college. I knew that Tim wouldn’t remain single for long, with him being such a catch and planning on going to Texas Tech he was on the top of most single women’s lists.

He would call me at college and we kept in touch for a while. I heard about him through friends and friends of friends. We lost touch after a year or so.

He had been dating a girl named Christen when he left for college. His father wanted him to go away to school unattached because he was worried about the hold that Christen had on Tim. His father was right to be worried.

Christen got pregnant during Tim’s sophomore year at Tech. She wanted him at home… with her. Not in college.

Tim became a father at twenty.

In 1999 when I came back to Dallas emotionally battered and bruised I hid for a while, licking my wounds and trying to heal from the divorce and the many years of … well, of just shit. I worked and hid in my apartment and after a year or so of being back on my feet I had the strangest urge. I wanted to find Tim.

I asked Stacey if she or her husband (I’ve known Stacey’s husband since Clark HS too) had seen or heard from Tim. Nope. No one had heard from him. I didn’t know if he was married, had children or even wanted to hear from a blast from the past like me. The only way to find out was to try and track him down.

I scoured the phone books and the internet and found several people with his name and so I started my list at the top one night. “Hi, I am looking for Tim [last name] please. Oh, hi Tim. Did you go to Clark High School? No? Ok, thanks.” And on to the next number.

By the time I had gotten a bit frustrated I decided to make one last phone call. “Hi, I am looking for Tim [last name] please. Oh, hi Tim. Did you go to Clark High School? You did?” And I heard, “Sue?” “Yeah, man… it’s me. How are you?”

A few days later we went to a bar and ordered several drinks and started to catch up.

It was the most bizarre thing. We started right in and it felt like we had just talked the week before, not like ten years had passed. His son was almost ten, he was divorced, Christen was Satan incarnate, the divorce was ugly and he was working hard and wanted to go back to school. I caught him up. I had no children, my divorce could have been uglier and holy shit we are old.

It became very comfortable. We got together for a drink or seven almost every day. He was dating about eleven people and I was just trying to keep my head straight.

I would leave work by 4:30 pm and by 5 my cell phone was ringing. I would answer it and hear a familiar, “Hey, what are you doing?”

I never met any of his girlfriends, I would just hear about them later.

Tim: Yeah, [random chick] spent the night last night.
me: Slut.
Tim: Her?
me: No,… you.
Tim: Am not.
me: [eyebrow raise]

It was so comfortable, our friendship was growing and we were a team again. And Tim made me laugh, Lord, how I would laugh! It was like we were back in high school… just without the sex.

When I met Mister, Tim was one of the first to know. He was happy for me and we still hung out a lot with and without Mister.

The years flew by. Tim’s ex-wife had two more children, both by different men and still made Tim’s life hell. He always had his son on Wednesday’s and his son spent the night with him almost every weekend… so Christen could go out.

Tim finally went back to school and did a great job. He graduated last June and Mister and I went to the ceremony. After that I called him and emailed him periodically and more and more the closer it got to his birthday. No calls were answered or returned. No emails were returned. October came and went and I still hadn’t heard from him. Still, no calls or emails were answered.

In January of this year I sent an email letting him know that my feelings were hurt by the lack of return phone calls or emails. I asked him if there was an issue. I told him I wished him the best. No answer.

Mister knew that my feelings were hurt but that I missed my friend. One evening after work Mister and I were at a Happy Hour and he suggested that we call Tim and invite him to the bar to hang out with us. I shook my head because I didn’t want to leave another message after the email that I had sent, but Mister persisted.

He called and Tim answered on the second or third ring. They spoke and Mister asked if Tim was doing ok because I was worried. Of course I was embarrassed and physically blanched when Mister handed me the phone when he said, “Do you want to talk to her? She’s right here.”

I took the phone and asked Tim if he was ok. “I’m fine,” he said, “I’ve just been busy and I’ve been gone almost every weekend hunting and my cell phone hasn’t been working.” I responded with, “I was just making sure that you weren’t dead.”

What a lame thing to say.

The conversation was short, stilted and ill at ease and I haven’t heard from him again since that night.

I know that the only reason he answered the phone was because he didn’t have Mister’s number programmed into his phone.

Ya’ll know how much I treasure old friendships and people who knew you when. I have got to quit it with this getting my feelings hurt over camaraderie not shared. The problem with this is that I had no idea that the friendship wasn’t shared until he stopped calling, returning phone calls, emailing, ect.. It was just over.

Maybe he went back to Christen and thinks I would disapprove. Who knows?

I know I shouldn’t be surprised. People grow and move on.

I just wish they’d let me in on the secret sometimes.


*Didn’t know I was a cheerleader? (I’ve only mentioned it once in three plus years.) Well, don’t tell anyone. It is a small fact that I keep pretty closely guarded.

May 8, 2006

Rocks your face off.

I think I may be a bit in love. Wait, scratch that. I am totally in love… madly, truly, deeply.

For those of you who didn’t know this month (May) is
Metal Month on VH1 and I would like to consider the programming line-up as a personal birthday gift from VH1 to me.

Three hours of the 40 greatest Metal Songs of all times… hosted by Sebastian Bach? Pretty, tall, lovely, sinewy, “lookit that purty mouth”… that Sebastian Bach? Yes. That one. Why thank you for the lovely gift VH1. Really, you shouldn’t have. But I am so glad you did.

More cowbell? Yes, of course. Cowbell provided for you courtesy of Mötley Crüe and their 1982 hit in the form of Live Wire (click on link for video). Fast breaks and dudes wearing lipstick and more Aqua Net than the ladies hosting your local church bake sale. Thank you, thank you.

What a perfect way to spend a rainy Sunday when I should have been unpacking boxes.

May 10, 2006

I say Expo/Home Depot schedule a weekend class to teach how to build a ladder, and climb it to get the hell over themselves.

Have I told you guys how much I absolutely love, nay… adore Home Depot and Expo Home Design? No? I haven’t? That is because I wish them all a fiery death, scabies and an ulcer the size of Tucson. Not necessarily in that order.

The day after Mister and I closed on the house we went to the Expo Home Design Center right across from my office during lunch. We had measured the new house for several things that we needed. 1) A monster fridge. 2) A cook top; as there is a gaping hole cut in the granite/tile counter top in our kitchen. 3) And lighting options. I am all about the lighting… sort of like Mariah but without the bling.

I knew which fridge I wanted because Mister and I looked at all of the fridges in the world previous to signing the closing papers. Seriously… every fridge. You have a fridge? I have looked at it, noted its options and maybe even fondled the thermostat for the freezer. I knew I wanted the Maytag Ice2O because of the awesome French door design and the bottom drawer freezer. It is more efficient, dontcha know? And also eleventy frillion times more splendid than any refrigerator that I have ever had the pleasure of filling with goodies. And by goodies I mean booze.

We also knew what cook top we wanted. Our kitchen is wired for gas and or electric so we had our choice. Mister had his eye on this monster five-burner gas cook top by Jenn-Air or something.

I also found a beautiful George Kovacs lighting fixture to mount over our headboard in the master bedroom. Halogen lights, two, on individual dimmers and flexible arms. Perfect for reading in bed or performing a little simple surgery… whichever. I fell in love with this Hampton Bay 5 light track set with amber globes and the pièce de résistance was this large three light Hampton Bay pendant with an amber globe as well.

So we went over to the appliances area and spoke with Bernard*. We told him that we wanted to order the Maytag Ice2O and a cook top. He was all, “Great! No problem-o! Here, let me print out 86 copies of your order so you can take it to the check out line.” We asked Bernard when the appliances would be delivered and he said, “Four days. The fridge will be delivered in four days, while they are there, they will measure for your cook top.” I made sure he was being serious about the four day thing, “Bernard, I will need to take off of work to be home when the delivery guys show up, are you sure that they will deliver it in four days? Four days from now is April 4th. If I take off a partial day on April 4th will the delivery guys be delivering my fridge?” And he replied, “Of course… see? It is right here on your order.” He went on, “They will call you the day before to schedule a time… ok?” I looked at Bernard skeptically and finally nodded my head. “Ok.”

Mister and I then took our binder of paper over to the lighting area to order the lights we wanted. The Kovacs light was supposed to be a stock item and the Hampton Bay items were special order. The Kovacs light was on back order so it would take them 4 days, four business days to get them in. The special order lights would be delivered directly to my house within 10 business days. No problem. Some light fixture guy wrote up our orders, handed us another 64 copies of each order to take to the check out line and we made sure that our installation orders has been completed and marveled at the measurement costs.

I started putting it together. We ordered five things. Each one has to be delivered and installed… and before that? Measured. So conceivably I would have to take off fifteen half days if some of this stuff could not be consolidated… except for the Hampton Bay lights. Those would be delivered directly to me, at the new house. So? Thirteen days.

We went to the check out line and on our way looked at our watches. Lunch hour was over and we were both due back at our respective offices. We rounded the corner to head to the front and were both relieved when we saw that there was only one person in front of us in line.

So we waited.

And waited.

Fuck! The guy in front of us was only purchasing seven washers and a pair of finials to adorn his curtain rods. How long in holy hell will it take them to check Mister and me out with our 150 pages for our five orders (and the delivery, and the measuring, and the installation)?

Finally the guy leaves with his washers and finials. We stepped up to the counter and heaved the novel sized order documents onto the counter. The cashier had to ring up each order separately because we ordered warranties. (The NERVE.) We asked if we could pay by debit card or credit card. They wouldn’t take it because the amount was too high. Take a check? Sure. Lord. Please let us get out of here before Bush steps down.

We finally got done with the check out process and left there feeling beat down but excited about our purchases. New fridge, cook top, and three lights. Awesome.

I kept thinking four days. Four business days until we have our new fridge. I cleared it with my boss to be off for a partial day on the 4th of April.

The third of April came around and by two o’clock I had not heard from the delivery guys. Hmm. Interesting. I called Expo and gave them my order number. They patched me through to Bernard and he said… and I quote, “Oh, yeah… The Maytag. Well, it says here that it is scheduled for the 5th. You know, these things sometimes slip a day.” Boiling with anger at being told something other than the truth, I called Mister and the first thing out of his mouth? “Cancel the order. They don’t have an exclusive with that product. Cancel it.”

I thought for a moment and the realized that I was over a barrel. I wanted my damn fridge, the cook top and my lights. Expo/Home Depot did have an exclusive with the Hampton Bay products that I picked out. Shit.

Freaking Barrel.

I called the manager, left a message and then waited for about an hour. He didn’t call back so I called again and asked for the manager on duty.
Mark: “This is Mark, may I help you?”
self: “Well Mark, I really hope so. I am in a bit of a pickle. Let me give you my phone number and name so you can look up my order.”
Mark: “Shoot.”
self: “[Blah blah blah, phone number and name]. Find me?”
Mark: “Yes ma’am, what can I do for you?”
self: “As you can see my husband and I came in last week and put quite a few things on order.”
Mark: “Yes ma’am…”
self: “The appliance dude, may I call him a ‘dude’ Mark?”
Mark: “If you wish.”
self: “Great. The appliance dude, Bernard? Well, he assured me and my husband that our fridge would be delivered tomorrow… the 4th of April.”
Mark: “And it says here…. The… oh, the 5th.”
self: “That in of itself is not that big of a deal. The big deal part is that we took Bernard at his word, scheduled some utility people to come out tomorrow as well and my husband and I took the day off of work because of these scheduled items… one which happens to be the fridge which Bernard so cheerfully told me about an hour ago that ‘these things sometimes slip a day’. Do they normally slip a day Mark?”
Mark: “No ma’am, not normally.”
self: “The last part of this deal is that I want that fridge. I really do. It is shiny and large.”
Mark: “Right… shiny…”
self: “But my husband’s temper got the best of him and when I told him that Bernard said that our shipment ‘slipped a day’ the first thing out of his mouth? Was to cancel the order. I do not want to cancel the order Mark.”
Mark: “Oh, … well, good.”
self: “Right, so how can you and I work together to make sure that this fridge gets delivered tomorrow?”
Mark: “Ok, this is what I am going to do…”

And Mark proceeded to lay out the Fridge Delivery Plan of ’06. Long story even longer… well, shorter, kind of. Mister took off work the morning of the 4th to handle the utility guys and I took off work at noon to go wait for the fridge delivery guys. At 12:30 when I pulled into the drive and relieved Mister of his duty he told me, “Well, the fridge is here.” “Is it!?” I rushed into the kitchen to see it. “But it is not installed.” “You’re fucking kidding me.” “No, no… I am most definitely not kidding you. The delivery guys delivered it and put it in the garage and then let me know that they could not install it as they are just delivery guys.” “Lord. I’ll handle this.”

Mark: “This is Mark may I help you?”
self: “Maaark, Mark… how are you? This is Susan [last name] and I just wanted to thank you for having the fridge delivered today.”
Mark: “My pleasure ma’am.”
self: “One little thing…”
Mark: “Yes?”
self: “The shiny fridge?”
Mark: “Right, shiny…”
self: “Is sitting in my garage. The delivery guys said that they would not install it as they are just delivery guys.”
Mark: “Seriously?”
self: “Seriously.”

Mark hustled and bustled and had his Expediter (Linda) get some installation guys come to the house between 3 and 6:30pm.

They showed up and started unpacking the fridge from the cardboard and the things binding it and protecting it. They opened the container and the little one said, “It’s supposed to be blue… right?”

I almost bit this man in the face ya’ll.

He must have seen my face fall from the excited expectation look to the I-am-seriously-going-to-punch-you-in-the-neck-if-you-are-being-serious face because he said quickly, “I’m kidding ma’am… just kidding. It is the stainless one you ordered.”

So the guys (scratched the shit out of) installed my fridge and all was right with the world. Until… (dum dum DUUUUMMM!) the fridge guys went ahead and measured for the cook top.

Plumber's Crack: “Ma’am? The cook top you ordered will not fit. The fifth burner will be under a cabinet which is not up to code and the vent for gas cook tops should go outside. Yours goes… where?”
self: “Up… there?” [points]
Plumber's Crack: “Well, that isn’t up to code and you would have to have someone cut into this counter and we don’t do granite tiles.”
self: “Isn’t that covered in the installation fee?” (Oh, come on… I knew it wasn’t covered… but you can’t blame me for trying.)
Plumber's Crack: “No ma’am. We’ll let Expo know not to order the cook top and you can just pick out another one.”
self: [harrummphh]

I think I may have blown my hair out of my face with a little puff and then sighed as well… because we all know what a trooper I am when it comes to being told “no.”

So one fridge down… one cook top to re-choose. Is so a word.

A few days later they called me to tell me that 1) the Kovacs lamp was back ordered for a week or so, 2) the Hampton Bay track light should be there in a two weeks and 3) the Hampton Bay globe (love it… I love it soooooo) was back ordered for over four weeks.

And ya’ll know how well I do with waiting too.

Mister: “Cancel the damn order!”
self: “Oh stop it.”

The Kovacs light came in and is so so pretty. Mister and I (to be honest… more Mister than I… but I digress) installed it shortly after we moved the bed over to the new house. It came in about two weeks after we ordered it. It is such an awesome light and very directional that I have found out that I can put my make up on in the morning by using it as a make up light while… get this… Mister is still sleeping!

The 5 globe track light from Hampton Bay came in and we scheduled a guy (an Expo guy) to come and install it. The installation had been paid for a frillion years ago and we were excited to have it put up. Guess when we scheduled him. The 22nd of April you say? Why, that is very perceptive of you. It was also the same freaking day that we were moving. Brillllliant!

I managed the moving company while Mister fussed around with Todd… the electrician guy.

Todd did a great job with the track light set, measured the area for the big light to make sure it would all fit (see: Cook Top). He proclaimed that it would be a standard install and asked us to call him when the big globe pendant light came in.

I got home last week to find this enormous box on my front porch. The Light! The Light! The Light is HEEEERRRRREEEE! I sang. And the neighbors hustled their children inside.

I called Todd to come and install the light. And I stood firm on the fact that Mister and I work until 5:30 pm each work day. He previously said that he could come on Saturdays so I pushed for that. He was busy all day Saturday and Sunday, and he was going on vacation on Tuesday. “Monday at 6pm?” I asked him. He said he would be there.

Monday evening Todd showed up at 6:45 pm. He walked in, made a big to-do about being there… moved a light switch to another wall and then proclaimed that he couldn’t install it because he would need a brace because the light was too heavy.

Todd: “I could run out and get you a brace but it’ll cost you $80.00.”
Mister: “How much would it cost if I went to get one?”
Todd: “$15.00.”

We knew he didn’t want to be there and was just putting us off because of his vacation and whatever… but he was already paid for the job. He said it would be a standard installation. He had specs on the light that was going to go in that spot.

FINE.

I am so tired of Home Depot and Expo. Nothing is ever what they say it will be. Nothing is ever done on time. When Todd left Monday night he said that Expo would call us the next morning to plan the install with the brace. Guess who hasn’t heard from anyone at Expo?

You got it in one.

We ordered our cook top from Lowes a week or so ago. They said it would be in ten days from the order date. Guess what was on time?

*Names changed to protect the stupid and sloth like.

May 12, 2006

Scratch Fiction: Frank

Scratch fiction gauntlet thrown down by monkey0. Several others have had a go as well. Links on Monkey0’s page. Also, ya’ll go ahead and click on “the monkey is always watching”… awesome photos housed within.

Sarah pulled the pictures from their safe-keeping spot within the yellowed pages of the cookbook her mother had handed down to her. The pictures were safe within its confines as no one ever ventured into the kitchen, much less the cookbook. She had been cooking and cleaning for the man of this house for almost fifteen years. Maybe more, definitely since she was old enough to remember the recipe for cats head biscuits. She made sure that the bacon was on the table wrapped in a few layers of cheese cloth to soak up any extra grease and then she flipped to the cookbook’s hidden pictures again.
Frank. A strong name. A man’s name. This man was to be her salvation.
A yell came from the living room where the man of the house was listening to the morning weather report on the radio. “Where’s my breakfast, girl?” “It will be ready in five minutes, Mr. Jackson.” She replied as she turned to the wood burning stove to check on the gravy. Her biscuits were slowly browning from the heat. When she opened the heavy cast iron door to damper the coals the heat struck her full in the face and beads of perspiration popped out on her forehead just below her hair line.
She removed the biscuits from the heat and stirred her gravy one last time before taking a rag mitt and placing them both on the heavy table against the window where Mr. Jackson preferred to have his meals.
“Your breakfast is ready sir,” she called to Mr. Jackson softly.
Mr. Jackson stomped into the room and began to eat as though she hadn’t served him a meal in weeks. He shoveled down two gravy soaked biscuits and took a handful of bacon in his large hand, grunted and walked out the front door. His large workman’s boots echoing loudly on the wooden porch beyond the door. She heard him call up his dogs and then start up his old truck. A moment later he pulled out of the dirt yard heading to the cotton fields.
Sarah only had a few hours before Mr. Jackson returned to his modest homestead for the required afternoon meal. She quickly extinguished the flames in the stove, cleaned out the skillet and wrapped up the remaining biscuits and bacon in a rag that she knew Mr. Jackson wouldn’t miss. She went to the wash basin to wash her face and slick her hair back from her head. In the morning humidity her hair had become an unruly mess. Sarah packed up her meager belongings and left Mr. Jackson a note:

“Dear Mr. Jackson,
I have worked for you for fifteen years. My father’s debt has been paid to you three times over. Although you have never been a mean man, you have never spoken a kind word to me or to my sister, may she rest in peace.
Thank you for the roof over my head and the clothes on my back.
May God bless you and keep you.
Wishing you well,
Sarah”

She wrapped the note around Mr. Jackson’s favorite pipe so she was sure he would find it when he came home for lunch, she gingerly put the biscuits and bacon parcel into her bag and stepped out the front door.
Sarah couldn’t believe she was going to be married. “Missus Frank Abernathy,” she said aloud just to see how it sounded to her ears. “Missus Sarah Abernathy pleased to make your acquaintance.” She curtsied to a willow tree imagining that it was a very important person, maybe the local parson or the mayor. She had never been out of Mr. Jackson’s house except to attend church on Sundays. When her father handed her and her sister over to Mr. Jackson to pay his debt as a share cropper he insisted that Sarah was a hard worker and did not speak unless spoken to… but it was a must that she attend church every Sunday. Mr. Jackson agreed only to punish Sarah in small ways when she did go into town to attend church. He would let the dogs in and they would ravage the tidy little kitchen that was her life. He would accidentally let the mules loose in her garden and they would stomp on her lettuce and eat all the corn. He would walk directly through her freshly hung laundry after being covered in red dust from the cotton fields all day. She would never miss Mr. Jackson acting worse than a child and making awkward advances at her even though he had never said one kind thing to her since she started working for him.
It was these things she was happy to be rid of.
She was going to meet Frank at the end of the fence over near the church. She walked happily along swinging her little basket of belongings and introducing herself to cows and crows and trees along the fence as she went, “Well hello there Missus Brown Cow. Why yes, I did make that Apple Brown Betty for the church function… My name is Missus Sarah Abernathy, I am Frank’s wife. I am so pleased to meet you.” “And you, Mr. Crow… how do you do? Yes, yes, I am the new bride of Frank Abernathy. Yes, he is the most handsome and intelligent accountant in town. Oh, don’t be silly Mr. Crow. I know he is the only accountant in town and my, isn’t his business booming?”
Shortly after 9 am Sarah spotted the church up ahead and picked up her pace. Frank was waiting. Frank was going to make her his bride. Frank was going to make everything new.

May 15, 2006

She was about an inch in size and I decided to name her Gladys.

Have I told ya’ll about Gladys? No? Well, let me go back a little ways and start this little tale in October of last year.

It was around the18th and I felt like Mister was sitting on my chest. I couldn’t breath and I decided that that was a bad thing so I went to see my general practitioner. His name is Eduardo and he is hot.

Eduardo being hot didn’t help the fact that I couldn’t breath. Let me preface this by saying that I didn’t have a cold, I have never had asthma and I wasn’t smoking. Eduardo took my blood pressure and it was heart attack over aneurysm. Apparently I was having some sort of anxiety attack, but to be sure that I wasn’t having a pulmonary aneurysm (Lord, that sounds so scary) Eduardo sent me to have a CT (cat scan) done with contrast.

The test was completed and the radiologist called Eduardo and let him know I was in the clear. Eduardo called me at the hospital and told me I could leave because I was fine. Cool. Good. That is nice to know because I was leaving for Austin the next day and was planning on lifting many heavy boxes and getting no sleep and helping a coworker out with a conference… and our director was going to be there.

The next day the three of us left for Austin at 6 am. We arrived, had the pre-con meeting, set up the conference and… well, my nose started bleeding… copiously. I was so embarrassed. My blood pressure was up, anxiety was sitting on my shoulders and I was trying not to pay any attention to it… so it decided to make my blood pressure shoot up so high that I got a bloody nose. Gross.

The next two days, while I was trying to register people for the conference, take care of details and make sure things went smoothly; my nose kept on bleeding. I would sneeze and have to run to the restroom all hunched over with Kleenex shoved into my face as not to ruin my little staff shirt, the hotel carpet or an errant Maltese. I think that my red staff shirt still has a little dark spot right between the boobs that I have never been able to get out.

I know you all want me. It’s in your eyes.

I’ve told you all before, it is hard work being this sexy.

So I was fine in the lung department but because my blood pressure was so crazy high and I was anxious enough to warrant some anti-anxiety medication, Eduardo scheduled a stress test for me that following Monday.

Yay, run-walking (they won’t let you jog) on a treadmill that is at like 40 degrees on a Monday morning before I go to work. Just how I want to start my week. But the people were very nice and it turns out my heart is like that of an eighteen year old. Now, if I could just get my ass to be like that of an eighteen year old we’d be in business.

So, what was the deal? Am I just getting older? (Shut up.) Is it my diet? Or lack thereof? My lack of exercise and complete disregard for losing weight? (Again, shut up.) I would have to say yes. Eduardo called me in to go over the test results so he could show me the information that the radiologist found. Oh, I made time for that… in like December or January. Yeah, I was all about this being a big deal. Very Johnny-On-the-Spot and all that.

Eduardo showed me that they had found a little hemangioma on my liver. She was about an inch in size and I decided to name her Gladys. I am not, nor have I been worried about Gladys. A hemangioma; by definition; is a benign tumor or birthmark consisting of a dense, often raised cluster of blood vessels in the skin. Mine, just happens to be in my liver. And Google tells me that she may be making an appearance because of the many years of birth control pills that I have ingested.

Eduardo said that I shouldn’t worry… but then he started wanting me to get scanned every month or so. So I got scanned… well sonogrammed, in March… and I went to get a CT with contrast this morning. So what if I haven’t made it to get scanned every freaking month. Eduardo is hot, yes, and he is sweet, and concerned about Mister and me. But I am busy… what, with all of my sitting around and watching eighteen hours of Grey’s Anatomy… I just couldn’t find time for six freaking cat scans this year.

When I got the ultrasound in March it was nice, I went in on a Saturday and drank six gallons of water so my bladder would be full. The lady who did the test was awesome and very complimentary of my cute little red corduroy jacket. She even tried it on. She also showed me my uterus and my ovaries and all of my business looks like it is in perfect working order… you know, for all of those children I am not having. The test was over quickly and painlessly. Thank God the sonogram(-ist?) person could find all of my business without having to do one of those internal sonograms.

You ladies know what I am talking about. Can I get a what-what?

I didn’t think much when I went in to see Eduardo to go over the sonogram test results… everything appears to be in normal working order and Gladys has… what? She’s gotten bigger? Well, that bitch.

Eduardo asked if I would get another CT done. Because, ya’ll know I have all of this extra cash just lying around in stacks all over the house. The new house… that we just bought and paid a frillion dollars for eleventy inspections, reinspections, movers, the precious, the new living room furniture and a freaking cook top. You know… that extra cash, right?

So, fine… we have to keep an eye on little fatty boombalatty Gladys to make sure she doesn’t get all up in my liver’s grill or anything. So I scheduled a CT scan for this morning. Well, to be honest, Eduardo had this MRI imaging place call me to make an appointment because I am all about “putting off that scan for another week or so.” So, this morning it was.

And Gladys? I feel like totally knocking her out.

I fasted because I had to get contrast done. No food or drinks for a million days before you go in for a scan. Fine… FINE. Not even water? No ma’am. But as soon as I got there they handed me a stack of papers to fill out and a cup with liquid in it. The contrast liquid that was mixed with Coca-cola.

You all know that I am mainly a water drinking girl. That milk is a big part of my daily intake and that I hardly drink any sodas. I get all talky speaky with that much sugar and the caffeine is a sure-fire way to keep me awake at night. As a matter of fact on my birthday I had a Dr. Pepper with a piece of birthday cake at work… I was so sick that evening that I almost got ill at the table when Mister took me out to celebrate for my birthday dinner. So when they handed me the contrast liquid mixed with Coke, I asked if it could be mixed with water. “No ma’am” was the reply. But they could mix it with Sprite.

I had to drink two glasses of the cursed stuff so the second one I asked to be mixed with Sprite. Regardless of what it was mixed with, it tasted like confectionary sugar mixed with carbonation. Eeesh.

They asked me to take an hour to drink that mess so when I was finished I got to put on one of those sexy gowns that open up the back. Hotness. Pure hotness.

This lady named Joan took me back to this little room to start the IV for the contrast injection. She gave me this little package with slip proof socks that were gray and I happily put them on as to add to my already attractive outfit.

Joan tied a big flat rubber band around my right arm above the elbow, asked me to squeeze this little foam airplane (with the wings ripped off) and then she started slapping the shit out of my arm. “Take that, you pale round-eye!” She screamed at me. [Smack-Smack-Smack] “I hate you and your stupid veins!”

I watched her try to raise a vein on my arm to no avail.

She tied up the other arm and started to smack it around too. “Aaarrgh! I hate my job and I am going to work my frustrations out on your pale fleshy limb.” [Smack-Smack-Smack] She stuck me with a 22 gauge needle twice; once in each arm; and then called in for reinforcements.

A boy that was so cute that I had trouble looking him directly in the eye entered the little blood-letting cubby hole. “Hi, my name is Scott.” “Sc-Sc-Scott?” I stuttered. Because I am hot like that. “Yes, Scott.” He replied. He took my right arm in his hand and ran the tips of his fingers over the crook of my elbow. “Hmmm, what do we have here?” He muttered to himself while he looked for a vein.

Joan reentered and asked if Scott wanted to use a 24 gauge needle, he agreed and gently tapped my arm looking for a vein. “I would make a poor junky, huh?” I offered cheerfully. My brain screamed at me, “Oh. My. God. What a stupid thing to say! Shut up… Shut up! I know the caffeine and sugar are making you loopy but… for the love of all that is holy, shut up. May I remind you that they have needles?”

Scott decided on a spot that he liked on my right arm and went in for the kill… and then rooted around for about twenty-fourteen minutes. I started to feel a bit sick. Then I started to feel a LOT sick. I was sweating and I asked Scott feebly, “Could we just stop that for a few minutes? I feel really sick… and… Oh Lord, do you have something I could throw up into?”

Scott gave me a trash can but left that damn needle in my arm. He also handed me a tiny little wet wipe thingy soaked in alcohol and asked me to hold it by my nose. I breathed in the abrasive smell of the alcohol while Scott fanned me with a towel. I was sexy enough to dry heave into the trash can not once, not twice…but three times. Ya’ll know Scott was beside himself with yearning for me, my fleshy no-vein-having arms and my dry heaving… oh, and the sweating. Don’t forget the sweating.

I apologized to him and quietly said, “I am so embarrassed.” He was nice enough to say, “Don’t be, it happens all the time.” He said that I probably had some double-v (Vena V---blahblahblah?... anyone? Help?) word that means how my body is responding to shock… with vomiting.

I am a card carrying member of Carter Blood Care ya’ll. I give blood freely. Need blood? Here. I am O+ and I will give you some of my life force. For FREE. Why in the hell was I having such a tough time with this IV? I needed it for the contrast. And the sugary stuff was still making my tummy all wobbly.

Scott tried one more time on my left arm and no luck. They went ahead and did the scan. Why? I don’t know. My liver probably won’t show up without the contrast… but I really don’t want to go back and drink all that shit and dry heave in front of Scott for a second time.

Stupid Gladys.

About May 2006

This page contains all entries posted to Suzanna Danna in May 2006. They are listed from oldest to newest.

April 2006 is the previous archive.

June 2006 is the next archive.

Many more can be found on the main index page or by looking through the archives.

Powered by
Movable Type 3.35