Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Switzerland and The Sad Girl

Most normal, well-made American girls would be pleased as a pickle to be spending their 16th birthday on a whirlwind trip around Europe and she was pickly pleased until just 20 minutes prior to this point in time. Right now at this remotely viewed moment she's sitting on the side of a giant bed with a ridiculously fluffy white comforter. She's got a notepad filled with numbers in one hand and the hotel phone in the other.

Her head is down and she's sobbing gently, working up to a more substantial weeping. She's still wearing her traveling clothes from earlier that day, a boys' navy and baby blue striped polo shirt and a pair of baggy jeans. She has a thermal shirt wrapped around her waist carelessly and is wiping her snotty face on one sleeve. Our girl finally raises her head and flicks her thick chestnut hair off of her shoulders in a mindless head cocking motion. She hangs up the phone, distracted by some commotion outside.

Not impressed by the huge glass french doors, the striking wrought iron balcony or the amazing mountain rising before her in white majestic grandeur, she gazes out at the group of her fellow students frolicking in the village many floors below her. They're all participating in a delightful, laughter-filled snow ball battle, American voices raising up to her on the balcony, echoing off the walls of the gothic cathedral flanking the mountain-side.

The phone rings and she scuttles across the room in a clumsy sprint.

"Hello!?!?" She's so breathless with excitement, it's comical.
"Hello Erin! Happy Birthday!" It's her Mom. Not who she was hoping to hear from, but pretty damn good.
"Oh Momma. Thanks. I was feeling weird there for awhile. I miss you guys."
"But not too much, right Erin? Having a good time? "
"Yep! Having a wonderful time, Momma. Just feeling homesick for a minute. I feel so much better now that I talked to you."
"It's strange not having you here for your birthday, we'll have cake when you get home. Michelle and Mindi should be calling you shortly, I gave them all the numbers."
"Oh! Thanks Momma."
"Love you, Erin, be good. Please."
"Bye Mom, thanks again."

She waded through two more perfunctory conversations, two that made her feel so much better, but not the one she really was hoping to get. She hung up from the last phone call, thinking she could definitely go and join her group, finally. A smile was creeping over her generous mouth thinking about the journey she was on and how silly she had been acting earlier.

Before she left the room she checked her international calling card minutes one more time. 6 minutes left. Tensing up immediately she decided to try calling him one more time. She went through the annoying process of dialing out the calling cards numbers, the international dialing codes and finally, checking and double checking his number, she slowly pushed the buttons that would very hopefully connect her with him. On the first ring, her very self-absorbed mind she imagined him waiting by the phone, expectantly, hand poised above the receiver. On the second ring she tried to imagine what he might be doing instead of waiting by the phone for her call...skating with friends? Flirting with some girl? Not thinking about her, for sure. On the third ring she realized it was almost 11 pm in Pennsylvania. Was she calling too late?

"Hello?" A gruff, tired voice answers.
"Hi, Is Jeremiah home?"
"No, no he's not. Can I take a message?" Gruff, but polite.
"No!...No, that's okay. I'll just see him when I get back, I think." Click.

She grabbed some necessities and ran, clumsily again, out of the room. She tried to clear her head so she wasn't consumed by embarrassment or some other basic emotion. Leaving the hotel, she forced a smile onto her face like shoving an ill-fitting piece into a near finished puzzle and ran to meet her group.

The rest of her trip was wonderful.

She didn't talk to Jeremiah again for almost 8 years.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Summing Shit Up Yo.

Recently Miss Yvonne from Yo Mama's Blog asked me if she could interview me for the Questions for a Blogger section of Studio 30 Plus's website. (As a side note, I am not 30 until April. Jerrod and Jules run the site and happen to think I'm the best thing since sliced pumpkin seed bread, so I'm an honorary member....) Because I knew that this might bring at least a couple more people to my blog I decided to take a little look see around the site and spruce the ol' girl up a little bit.

You know, wax her hairy bits, brush her groady yellowing teeth (groady isn't a word?!) and put on something other type of clothing rather than her usual waffle-knit leggings, giant mohair sweater and knee high sneaker slippers.

I gave up trying to do anything new with her after about two minutes.

I was then distracted by an amazon email and spent a half hour filling my cart with books about Teddy Roosevelt and not actually buying any of them. I finally got up from my work area (an area in our front room on a couch where I pile up all of my work on the side table next to the couch) and started to make Max and Elijah some lunch.

While I was piling chipped chopped ham (disgusting), string cheese and grapes on their lunch plates my mind wandered back to posts I wrote in the past, when I was first filling my proverbial blank pages here on the interwebs. I have been writing fiction and other works since I was a very small child and had been previously only shared my work with a handful of people before I started writing my personal blog. I had submitted some of my work and have had positive results and have worked for a few websites as a freelancer, but mainly in a editing and informative capacity. My daddy has read some of my work and has praised it. A few professors and a couple friends have been subjected to my endless questioning after they read some of my work.

After I had children I was lucky enough to keep getting freelances jobs, and have appreciated the feedback I've received from readers here at Blogging is For Dorks so very much. This thought made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I might write a few more posts before the end of the year, but in this post I wanted to add links to my personal two favorite posts from Blogging is for Dorks (It felt weird writing that sentence, I sound like a douche!) and take the time to thank a few people (don't roll your eyes!!!) who have made this last year better for me.

I wrote this post during a particularly sad night for me and it felt so good to get feedback on it: This Night Rather Than All the Other Nights

The ups and downs I've experienced with my five year old daughter Maxine Jane over the course of her lifetime have been some of the most intense, sometimes horrible, sometimes incredible experiences I've ever had, this post embodies one of the better ones:
Max's First Thunderstorm

My Kids: Thanks for not being assholes. All of the time.

Jeremiah: Thank you for helping me be a better person. I look forward to growing with you and watching our children learn and love together.

Beckerino: I have no idea why I love you so much. You are a dirty slutty whore and you have all of those gross dogs but I appreciate you so much. I am glad we can have our therapy texting sessions and I hope someday I can sit on your face. I meant that in a totally non sexual way. Totally.

Aly-Bear: As much as I am like Becky I am opposite of you. That sentence brought back horrible flashbacks from a particularly awful SAT prep class. It seems like you live in a different world but yet we can talk for three hours straight. Thank you.

Mindi: We barely ever talk but it means so much to me that there's someone out there in the world that shares so many experiences with me. Someone who has seen me in the worst and the best of lights and still wanted to call me their friend through it all. I like to think you saw something in me from the beginning and that's why you've put up with all of my shit. Or maybe you moved far away to get away from me?

Once upon a time there was a me who wasn't a very good person. I am glad that I get the opportunity to make up for all the crap I've done. It make take me many more years of mucking shit, but someday I might have a clean stable.

If that last sentence made any sense to you, or if you thought it was a nice normal statement, you are a huge fucking dork!

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

A Christmas Tree Blogging Introspective

It seems this blog has morphed into a introspective about Christmas Trees.

Last post I talked about our familial patriarch and his lack of christmas tree building motivation.

This post I will show you a duo of trees, paired with a background of ugly wood paneling and a super humanly cute group of children that happen to be my own.

Our first Christmas with Elijah at our first house:

Three Christmas's later at our current residence:

What a difference a couple years and an escape out of rental/bad landlord hell will make!

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Pre-Pre Christmas Napping

This is the space where the Christmas tree should go:

A sadly empty space.

This is the man who should be putting the tree in that spot:

See anything wrong with these photos? Mmmmhmmm. I thought so!