Monday, April 20, 2009

Broken

No matter how tiny, a heart can still break. And mine did this afternoon. I had come home from work at about 5 am after starting my new shift, spent some time winding down, and went to sleep around 6 am. I was awakened by the phone around 11:30. When I rolled over to check the caller ID, I saw it was Momma Sue (BJ's mom) so I answered the phone. She apologized for waking me, because she knew that I should have been asleep then, and then asked if I could get a hold of BJ. At that moment, I knew something was very wrong. When she asked if I was sitting down, I began bracing for the worst. That's when she broke the news.
Our friend, Chris Baker, committed suicide early this morning in his house, just down the street from us. His grandmother found him not long before Momma Sue called me. When the call came into the police dispatch, the dispatcher on duty recognized the address, because she lives just across the street from us, and knew that she had to call Momma Sue.
I started to break down the moment she told me. I looked out the window while I was on the phone with her, and saw the fire truck blocking off access to the street, and saw the ambulance parked outside of his house, which he just recently finished remodeling and moving into. Trying to keep my head about me, I gave Momma Sue a number to reach BJ, and got off the phone so she could contact his bosses and have him sent home to be with the family. Just before she called me back, I heard a sound I've not heard in a very long time, and never has it hurt so much to hear it...I didn't even need to look to know exactly what it was - I heard the back doors of the ambulance slam. That's when I lost all control and sobbed until my body hurt. When Momma Sue called back, she told me BJ was on his way home, and asked if I wanted to come over. I couldn't be alone then, so I went to be with everyone else. Momma Sue called everyone who needed to know, and for the rest of the day, we all gathered at her house to just be together.
Over the course of the day, more information came to light, the details of which are very painful to talk about, so I'll forgo them. Without even knowing them, all that needs to be said is that I lost someone very close to me. Baker was a wonderful friend to BJ and me, he did so much to help us get settled in the new house, and we were always between each other's houses, just talking or hanging out. More than anything, he adored BJ's daughter, Addison. She is simply wild about him, and although we were supposed to have her this week, we decided it's for the best that she stays with her mother for the time being. Baker is the first person she asks for when she comes to visit...she loves him so much, and I don't know how to explain to a little girl that someone she sees as her best friend is gone forever. I don't think I can do it without crying, and neither can BJ, and we don't want to upset Addison.
Baker suffered from depression for years, and after a string of awful events in his life...well, I suppose he thought it was just too much. Maybe he thought it was all his fault. I don't know. That's the hardest part. Not knowing why. He didn't leave a note, so no one will ever know what was going on inside him then. No one will know if anything might have helped, or made him realize that so many people love him, and I think that's the saddest thing of all for me - that he just didn't know how many people care, or that he didn't think anyone really did care.
What Baker did was rash and selfish, I won't argue that. In fact, I'm angry at it. But, at the same time, I can't stop hurting because someone who has been so wonderful to me, BJ, Addison and the rest of the family is gone. It breaks my heart to think that I won't see his number on the caller ID, or hear him come through the door anymore. He won't be over for dinner, he won't be at Momma Sue's, we won't hear his truck on the street and we won't ever get to tell him "You matter to us, and we love you."
So, with a heavy, aching heart, I'm taking myself to bed. I won't sleep much, I know that. But, there's nothing else to do now but be here for his family and ours and remember that Chris Baker was a good man with a big heart who would have given the world to make his friends happy.

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Saturday, April 18, 2009

Makeover Madnes and Lessons Learned

Hello, all! It's been a while since I wrote, I know. And before I get to talking about the major goings-on lately, I have to regale you, one and all, with the story of my makeover gone horribly, painfully wrong...
First, a question: How can spas and skincare clinics get away with doing several procedures at once? That is the ultimate question for me, and let me tell you why... You would think that something as simple as a few facial care procedures would be cake, right? Yeah, I thought so, too. Nothing drastic, just a good cleaning and de-griming. Next time, I'll know to think again...
It all started because I wanted to do something different with my hair. I take fits like this about once a year, and it rarely ends well. You may remember the Christmas when my hair was coal black with blazing red streaks? Yeah, well, I decided on something REALLY out of character, at first: my natural hair color!! For those of you who don't know, I'm actually a dark honey blond, but I never really thought it suited the rest of my coloring - dark eyes, dark eyebrows, round face...my natural hair color not only contrasts the rest of my coloring so starkly that it seems unnatural, but I look like I'm 14 again. So, since my hair was reddish brown from the last bout of coloring back in October, I had to strip the color to put the blonde in. I did it the Saturday before Easter, and the color stripping went well except that I was not prepared for the blinding shade of Devil's Lemonade my hair turned. I've color-stripped my hair before, and it didn't turn THAT particular shade of "HOLY CRAP!" My hair was so bright, the cats couldn't stop staring me. They wanted to know who I was and what I did with their Momma! Well, after the stripping, I put the blonde dye in and was further alarmed when I realized that it was just a few shades lighter that my natural color...and it blended into the rest of my face! Perhaps it's the Cherokee in us, but Mom and I are not what one would call typically "white". We have a yellowish cast that makes it very awkward to find makeup or achieve a nice tan (if you go for things like that, and I generally don't). So, I wasn't too thrilled with my new color. I decided to do something different AGAIN.
After a week of being blonde, I decided to take the plunge: Tish and Snooky's Manic Panic. To those of you who know - remember when Ricky went through the phase where his hair was unnatural colors like purple and blue? That's the stuff I had in the bathroom - a little pot of dye called Vampire Red. And it was calling my name! Well, it stood to reason that if I was going to do something so drastic, I might as well go for a full-on makeover, right? WRONG! WRONG! WRONG! OMG WRONG!!!
I started with a soak in the tub, to get myself all fresh and clean. That went well, same as always. Once I was clean and smooth and feeling pretty, I started working on my face while my hair dried. I used a grapeseed face peel mask, and that was fine. It felt pretty good after I pulled the film off my face. This is where it started to go downhill...
In pulling off the film, I came to realize that some of it had made it into my eyebrows and little babyhairs at my temple. No worries...just wipe it out with warm water, right? Nope! This stuff turned into hard little grapeseed goop boogers in my hair the second the water touched it! I've used this brand for years, why all of a sudden would it do something so mean to me?! Oh, well...
By the time I got the last of the goop out of my temple hairs, my hair was dry, so I set to work coloring my hair. And, BOY, what a color it is! I'll spare you any images of it...I'll simply say that this color red does not occur in nature, and leave it at that... Anyway, while the color was setting (had to leave it on for 30 minutes, per the instructions on the container), I decided to finish up my face. I have a gentle foaming face wash that I use sparingly, the last of which I used tonight, and that's what I applied next. It tingled a little, because the majority of the grit and grime had been pulled away by the grapeseed mask, and the tingling wasn't unpleasant. It felt kinda good, actually! So, with my fresh, clean face, I waited out the rest of my coloring time and then proceeded to rinse out my hair. What I failed to realize, however, was that with my skin so open and clean, it was an instant magnet for the brilliant red dye on my hair, and as a few strands fell forward and marked my face and forehead, I just brushed them away without thinking. After rinsing my hair and wrapping it up in a towel, I saw the marks, and realized I'd have to wash my face again to get the dye out. I don't think I have to tell you how resistant this dye is, especially on freshly cleaned skin... I had big red blotches on my cheeks, forehead, and one large one on the side of my neck, in the perfect shade of red to mimic a Port Wine Stain. So, I grabbed my face scrubby and went to work on the dye spots, scrubbing gently...or so I thought.
When my face began to burn a little, I stopped scrubbing and rinsed away the suds, then looked in the mirror to see angry, deep red blotches replacing the pinkish ones that had been there before. How can dye stains get DARKER? I wondered to myself as I reached up to touch one of the nastier-looking blotches. That's when I almost peed myself...
It hurt SO BAD to touch my own face, I thought I was going to cry! My vision got blurry and I actually staggered a little bit as I realized those weren't stains...they were parts of my face that were now missing skin! When I thought I was gently scrubbing away the dye, I was apparently rubbing my face raw in places. So, there I stood, staring in horror at the rub-burns on my face and neck wondering "What can I do now?!" Then I realized that I had aloe lotion, and the hunt began! When I couldn't find it, I decided to settle for my Tattoo Goo lotion - scentless, dye-less lotion with practically no additives, to speed the healing process of tattoos. I bought it when I got my first tattoo, when I was 18, and the tube has lasted this long. So, after my face had dried, I dripped a little on my fingers and lightly touched it to the raw places on my face and neck. It felt SO insanely good!!! ...for about 20 seconds... That's when the fires of Hell came to visit.
Apparently, what little additives there are in the Tattoo Goo are JUST enough to cause excruciating pain when applied to raw skin, as opposed to freshly tattooed skin. So, I suffered in pee-inducing silence for a moment, then cautiously wiped the lotion away with a clean, damp towel. At that point, I gave up looking for relief...I decided to just wait out the pain and chalk this one up to "Lesson Learned".
No more at-home facials for me, folks...I'm throwing in my spa towel!
I think I'll just stick to a soothing bath once in a while from now on...

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Sunday, April 5, 2009

The Worst of Times Leads to The Best of Times

***DISCLAIMER: Severely Strong Language and Some Adult Content...Reader Discretion Is Advised!***

For those of you who have wondered, as I know many of you have, I thought I'd fill you in on the details of our roommate's departure from the house...
It started last Monday afternoon, while I was sitting on the couch working on my knitting. Technically, it started before that, because for the past month or so, BJ and I have been staging a mass rebellion - unless we're expecting to have Addison, BJ and I have barely lifted a finger to keep up the house. I know that sounds pretty typical of me, but lately, I've been more inclined to clean and take care of things. Perhaps it's just my head catching up with my age... At any rate, the house is typically pretty messy, and we both stopped cooking full meals to boot. On the days when we have Addison, however, the house is clean and there is always a full meal on the table. Our rationale behind the rebellion was "We're not the only ones who live here, and if he doesn't work, he's got time to do SOMETHING in a day", but to our dismay, nothing seemed to faze him. Until Monday, that is, when he came into the house and started lecturing me about the condition of the house, and how someone would call DCS if they knew the house looked like that, and how BJ would never see Addison again. I recognized that he had a valid point, but reiterated - BJ and I were not the only ones living here, thus we were not solely responsible for household upkeep, and being unemployed and doing absolutely nothing else to help around the house (no help with food, bills, rent, cooking...wouldn't even do his own laundry [and we flatly refused to wash his clothes for him and make him that much MORE dependent]) gave him plenty of time and opportunity to do something other than sit on his ass and whine about how it sucked being so broke. So broke, I might add, that he could afford to go wherever he wanted whenever he wanted, pick up random sodas and fast food when he felt like it and smoke brand-name cigarettes. To top it all off, he'd even made a shitty remark about MY job, saying that a job opportunity his father had lined up for him would be "a pretty shitty job, but at least it'd be better than some bullshit fuckin' assembly line job".
When I restated our reasons for not doing much about the house, he got mad, mouthed off at me about how unfair I was being, and when I started in on the lack of help he's given us on anything since he started living with us, he barked at me and stormed off, then came back a few minutes later and apologized, expecting me to just let it go, and even saying "I knew if I didn't come back and apologize for the way I ran off at the mouth, you'd run and tell BJ and then he and I would get into it, so I figured it would be better for me to just say I'm sorry now than have to deal with anything worse later." First - don't apologize to me unless you mean it. Trying to avoid a confrontation is no reason to just say you're sorry. Second - don't expect to pull something like that and then subtly (or not-so) hint to me that I shouldn't tell BJ, especially when he lives in the same house and has to deal with Matt's crap, too.
So, I left a note for BJ, explaining what had happened and asking him to talk to Matt, because by that point I was incapable of civil speech. I went to work that afternoon and came home shortly after 11, hungry, tired and dirty. BJ hadn't eaten much, so we decided to make some fries, just for the two of us, because I was too tired to worry with making enough for three people. So, in my opinion, this was going to be OUR food. While the fries were cooking, we sat in the kitchen and munched on a few crackers, only to have Matt come in and start eating our snack. Out of a sleeve of crackers, BJ and I got maybe 5 crackers each. Matt ate the rest, then turned around and went back into his room, without saying much to either of us. This was not uncommon - not only would Matt just randomly begin eating our snacks, but he also wouldn't eat anything at all during the day unless BJ or I cooked something or he decided he wanted fast food. That particular trait was so severe that the previous day, Sunday, he'd driven 20 minutes to his father's house to eat there, because I wasn't planning on making anything big for lunch, and no one was home at BJ's mom's house. He actually made the statement "I was hoping they were home, I thought maybe I could go over there and get something to eat." We have food in the house, mainly because we hid a lot of it to keep Matt from devouring or wasting it all in a single sitting. We have rice, mac and cheese, cans of veggies, cans of fruit, ground beef, chicken breasts and wings, fries, frozen and fresh vegetables, pancake mix, muffin mixes, eggs, milk...the works. But it was too much trouble for him to make anything on his own, so he would rather have waited for one of US to make something - less trouble for him, and more time he could spend doing absolutely nothing, which included avoiding looking for a job.
So, after Matt finished our snack, I checked the fries, and Matt must have heard the oven door open, because he came back into the kitchen and got down a plate and was waiting anxiously at my side while I turned the fries. He asked if they were done, and I said, "No, and this is for me and BJ anyway." This must have upset him, because he put the plate back and sulked back into his room. I was getting more irritable by the second, so I went into the bedroom to lay down for a little while and rest my feet. As I lay there in the bed in just my panties, I heard the phone ring and glanced at the clock. It was 11:45 - damn near midnight! In this house, when the phone rings that late at night, it means something is very wrong, or someone has a reason to be worried about us. Anyone with any good reason to call knows, and most people just assume it's a courtesy, not to call after about 9 pm. Before either of us could reach the phone to read the caller ID, mainly because Matt kept the only fully functional phone in his room, Matt answered the phone as I swung my half-naked self out of bed, wondering out loud "Who has lost their damn mind to call this house THIS late?!" BJ came into the bedroom with me, fuming quietly at the irritant of the phone ringing so late, and we could clearly hear Matt in his room having a lively conversation with whoever was on the other end of the phone. After 15 minutes of overhearing his conversation, which never once included a statement about the lateness of the call, BJ went to Matt's room, knocked on the door and, when Matt answered it, said "I don't know who's on the phone, but are they out of their fucking mind to call here this late at night?" Matt got off the phone rather quickly...and then all holy hell broke loose in the house.
I was still in the bedroom, but since this is a very old house (1930s era, according to the local archives) the walls are thin enough that I heard the entire conversation between Matt and BJ, which quickly escalated to Matt yelling at BJ, who hadn't raised his voice. Matt defended whoever had called by saying "She didn't know, she's an hour behind us!" to which BJ responded "So that means it's 11 there...that's no better than calling at midnight, dude, that's just rude." That statement sent Matt into a fit toward BJ, telling him very loudly how rude he was and how BJ had blatantly and purposely disrespected him while his friend could hear the conversation. He also added that he allegedly "didn't have a chance to tell her", during a 15-minute conversation. I have a sneaking suspicion that Matt's friend was under the impression that this was only Matt's house, and that no one else lived here, or at the very least, that MATT made the rules. In my opinion, and BJ's - if you can't contribute to a household, you don't get to make rules for it.
It wasn't until a very specific statement that I came out of the bedroom. BJ asked Matt, "When did you plan to tell her it's not cool to call here after 9 (central time)?" and Matt screamed at BJ, "WHEN I FUCKIN' FELT LIKE IT!" Oh...no...he...did...not... Well, unfortunately, he did, and that's when I came skidding out of the bedroom still half-undressed (I had pulled a T-shirt on and was in the process of falling into a pair of lounge pants as I skidded) and called out "How about when you pay the damn phone bill? Or any bill for that matter?" Matt responded to this by informing BJ that he needed to "just shut her the fuck up". BJ told him "Dude, I don't play middle man for anyone...you got something to say to Kati, you tell her yourself, she's a big girl, she can take it." He didn't say anything to me, so I didn't say anything else to him, at least not then. As the one-sided argument Matt was creating with BJ raged on, Matt got more and more upset because he knew he'd messed up, and rather than admit it - he headed across the room and punched a wall. I'm not sure if you've ever known anyone who's punched 70s-style half-inch-thick wood panelling...but suffice it to say that the panelling will win, every time. So, with bloody, bruised knuckles, Matt started screaming at BJ, "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE! JUST GET THE FUCK OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE!" BJ, I might add, never left the doorway, and never actually went into the room. He stood in the dining room/office the entire time, leaning against the door frame. I called out to Matt, "If you did any kind of damage to the wall by punching it like a spoiled brat, you'll be the one paying to replace it, and good luck finding panelling to match it. We'll add that to your tab, since you've already ruined one of the shutters by jerking it off the side of the house. Don't think for a second that BJ and I are going to pay for the stuff you fuck up around this house." And Matt responded by screaming at ME this time "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" No...no, he didn't get to play the injured party that night, he was not a victim of anything but his own stupidity. I waited a few seconds, and then asked "Are you done having your tantrum now? Or would you rather just punch another wall you'll get to pay for?" This time, he went back to telling BJ to "shut her the fuck up, man, just tell her to shut the fuck up and not to talk to me." BJ told him again, he's not a middle man, and this time walked away from Matt's room. Matt closed the door, and BJ came in to check on me (by that point, I was in the kitchen, tending to the fries). We went into the office so I could check my email and eat my snack before bed, and we talked quietly with each other, not about Matt, but about US - he was making sure I wasn't going to have a stroke, and I was making sure he wasn't going to have one.
In the middle of our talk, Matt swung his door open a little and demanded that BJ come talk to him, interrupting us. I turned toward his door and said, "Matt, my best advice to you right now is to just close the door and wait a minute. BJ and I are talking right now...that means he is talking to ME and I am talking to HIM. No one is talking to you, no one is talking about you, you are not part of this conversation. So, I suggest you just shut the door and wait your turn." True to his form that night, he swung the door open the rest of the way and leaned through it and said "The door's still open...what are you gonna do about it? You gonna make me close it? You gonna come close it? I'll leave it open if I want to, I'll leave it open all fuckin' night if I want, I don't have to listen to you!" So I turned to him, and with my most patronizing face and tone possible, said "Awwwww, is him gonna have a li'l hissy fit? Is him gonna throw a li'l tantrum like a 3-yr-old?" He looked at me and asked if that was supposed to make any sense, and I responded with "Maybe if it hadn't sailed about 8 ft over your head..." He still didn't get it. Instead, he launched off into a rant about he had every right to talk to his best friend, and how I needed to just stay the fuck out of it and keep my fuckin' mouth shut...and that's when I lost it. You do NOT talk to me like that in a house that I actively help pay for, especially after doing nothing for 4 months but sit around, whine, cry and throw fits as it pleases you. I had had enough. So, I told him:
"First off, you will NOT talk to me like that in THIS house, a house that BJ and I pay for, a house that BJ and I put together, a house that YOU have done absolutely NOTHING for. Second, if you even THINK you have the right to talk to me like that, you can think again, and get the fuck out, right now. The only thing you're pissed about is that someone called you on your stupid juvenile bullshit. You wanna talk about rude and disrespectful? Okay, let's do that...let's talk about someone who has done nothing but abuse the hell out of two people who agreed to help him so he could help himself. Let's talk about someone who's done nothing for 4 months, aside from sitting on his ass in a house he doesn't help out with, eating food he doesn't pay for, using utilities he doesn't pay for, and taking and using things that aren't his, like, oh, I dunno...towels, cologne, shampoo, body wash, clothes, electronics... Let's talk about someone who won't do a God damn thing to help around the house, then get up the nerve to bitch about the condition of the house. Let's talk about someone who won't cook or clean, and then bitch when he's hungry and has no clean laundry. Let's talk about someone who can't afford to buy any food for the house, but who can buy whatever he damn well pleases, including expensive cigarettes, fast food and anything else he wants. Let's talk about someone who has done absolutely nothing but take full and complete advantage of someone he claimed to love like a brother, and someone else he claimed to love like a sister. Let's talk about that, sound good? No? Nothing? You're not gonna talk? Okay, I'll talk...ever since you came back to Tennessee, you have been absolutely worthless. (He interrupted me here, and I informed him, very loudly, "NO! You didn't wanna talk before, you don't get to talk now! I'M talking right now, you'll wait til I'm finished!") You came home in bad shape, and we all felt bad for you. You caught a pretty raw deal down in Atlanta, and that sucked. We told you to come stay with us because you had nowhere else to go, and because we missed you and wanted you to come home and leave a relationship that was doing nothing but hurting you and making you miserable. And when you came home, you told us you'd help us out, you'd get a job, you'd do whatever it took to get yourself back on your feet. When we moved out of the house in Millersville, we told you to come here with us, because we wanted you to come, we wanted you here with us. Since then, and before then, you have done NOTHING you said you would, and have even gone so low as to take cheap shots at the job I have, even though I'm one of the two people in this house who HAS a job. Every time someone's tried to help you get a job, you've either ignored it, written it off as "bullshit", or fucked it up so you wouldn't have to do it anymore. I almost lost my job at Penneys because you refused to help me get to work after BJ had to sell his car rather than fix it, just so we could make ends meet. I called out of work 4 times in two weeks while you sat on your ass and fucked around on the computer, because it was easier for you to do that than lift a finger to help us out. You've wasted more food than I care to think about, you've eaten the food set aside for BJ's lunches without a single thought to it, and you've completely decimated all the food that Baker (a friend of ours) bought JUST for BJ's daughter (Baker bought some chicken tenders and patties for Addison, so she'd have snacks and so we'd always have something healthy to give her, even if we were broke, and Addison got 5 tenders...Matt ate the rest, knowing full well that they were only for Addison). You've brought people over to the house whenever you've felt like it without warning us we'd have company, you have people calling here at all ungodly hours of the day and night, and you think that's okay. You've tried to get people from other states to come here, to THIS house, so you could hook up with them for a night, without warning us at all, and you think that's okay. You've even gone far enough as to get pissed at US and come into OUR room to wake ME up at 7 in the morning because the same girl you tried to hook up with from West Virginia told you a crock of shit about us harassing her on the phone and you believed her, and that's totally okay to you. Let me tell you something, it's NOT okay, and we said as much to you, and you completely tuned us out. If that's how you think you can treat two people who have busted their asses to help you, who have damn near killed themselves to provide for and take care of a household, who are going broke by the day trying make this house work, and who have tried every possible way to excuse your childish bullshit, then you can pack your shit and get the fuck out of OUR house, RIGHT NOW."
He attempted to interrupt me several more times during my speech, but I cut him off each time with "No, I'm not done yet!" He tuned out most of that, and only said "I don't have do to a fuckin' thing you tell me. I'm on the lease, you can't make me leave, I'll stay here as long as I fuckin' want!" Then, he turned to BJ and said "BJ, what happened to you saying 'I don't care if it takes you 6 months to find a job'?" BJ, who'd remained quietly smoking a cigarette in a corner until then, stepped over to the doorway and very calmly said, "You're right, I did say that. And I'll tell you right now, when I said it, I had no idea you'd use that as an excuse to do nothing for all this time. I said it on the good faith that maybe, just maybe, you'd go out and actually TRY to find a job, rather than waiting 3 months to have a complete emotional breakdown in front of me, Kati, Momma, Stasia AND Baker. And after you had your little episode, you apologized for the way you'd been acting and swore up and down that you'd do something about it, so you went out and looked for a job for ONE day. Then, you proceeded to sit on your ass for the next SIX days and wait for a job to look for you. Then when Baker gave you another job, you blew it so you wouldn't have to do it anymore. And when your dad tried to hook you up with a job, you just blew it off as 'bullshit'. Then, of course, you had the nerve to make a shit remark about Kati's job, even though at that point in time, she had TWO jobs she was going to attempt to balance so she could actually be productive and proactive in making this house run. And now, you want to sit there, and spit my words back at me? No, you don't get to do that, because two days of job searching out of 4 months doesn't entitle you to SHIT. You haven't done any more than that, and don't even bother trying to say you did. I know for a fact that you didn't call any of the numbers Baker or your dad gave you, and you didn't fill out any online applications." Here, Matt got pissed off and yelled "Yes, I DID fill out online applications!" That's when BJ let him know, "No, you didn't. I know, because I check the history and cookie folders on all the computers in the house,and the only thing ever comes up are the sites that Kati and I go to and, in your case, MySpace, Facebook, WOWBeez, Warcraft, Cam4, Youtube, porn, dating sites, hook-up sites and singles sites. That's IT. And that's ALL. Even after Kati and I gave you that list of job search sites, the same ones we used to get our jobs. There wasn't a single site in the entire computer history that linked to a company application or a job search, so don't you dare sit there and lie to my face." At that point, Matt just hung his head and said "I'll be out of here by tomorrow. I'll call my dad in the morning and let him know I gotta move back in." I grabbed the phone and said "Oh, no, I think you'll call him now." Matt got pissed again and said "It's too fuckin late to call my dad, you don't know how he is about that shit!" I held the phone out to him and said "Oh, believe me, I have an idea how he is about that, and if it's okay in your book for some chick in Colorado to call THIS house at "OH MY GOD" at night, it should be perfectly FINE for you to call your dad at the same time. So get on the fuckin phone and prove your own point." He just sat there and stared, finally realizing how badly he'd fucked up this time, and as he took the phone and went back into his room, BJ said very quietly, "Not to be an asshole right now, but for what it's worth - you can be out tomorrow if you want to, but I was gonna give you til Friday." Then, he turned to me and asked "Is that alright with you?" I agreed, and Matt just shook his head and said "No, I'll be outta here tomorrow, cause that's what ya'll want. Ya'll want me to go, so I'll just go and make everything easier for you two."
His room was completely cleaned out and empty by 4 pm the next day, a little over 14 hours after the war.
Prior to him leaving with the majority of his things (it took him two trips to get everything out and stored where he could find places), he stopped and talked to us long enough to apologize to us for the way he'd acted and for what he'd said to us, and for how hard things had been for us because of him. He also threw in how hard it was going to be, living with his dad again, becuase "I gotta go by his rules now, and that means I have to be in church every Sunday, and I only have a week to find a job or he'll throw my ass out on the street." If he was looking for sympathy from us, he wasn't going to get it. Not after the way he'd treated us and spoken to us, not after everything we'd done to try to help him, and not after he'd killed any kind of respect we might have had for him. He said his goodbyes and left. He came back the other day to let us, or at least BJ (I was napping before work) know that he got a job. And funny - he's working for the same company I work for. His job will be a security guard position, but I just find it amusing that he works for Electrolux, too, after making his remark about how shitty my job is. What goes around...you know the rest.
So, there you have it - the circumstances of Matt's departure.
Already, BJ and I have noticed the changes. The house is clean, there are full meals on the table again, there are actually leftovers for BJ and I to take to work, we have the privacy we need so that we can be ourselves again, and we actually feel comfortable having his family over to visit or have dinner. We invited his sister over for dinner tonight, and had a wonderful time. We've also noticed the changes in each other. We're both a lot less irritable now, we're more affectionate with each other, we spend more simple time together, like sitting in the office together working on our respective projects, watching a movie on the couch, or even just cuddling at night before we go to sleep; we help each other more around the house, we talk more, and we both feel more confident in our home. We're not as worried now about covering the next bill or the next months' rent, or making sure there's enough food for Addison to eat. We used to come home from work and just assume positions in separate corners of the house - BJ in the living room at the laptop, me in the office or in the bedroom - each of us doing our own thing, away from anything and anyone in the house. At night, we'd both just stumble in and fall into bed and lay on opposite sides while our minds went berserk with stress and kept us awake. We're more calm and more relaxed now, and for the first time since we've been together, we actually feel totally confident that we can do this, like we can make this work. We don't feel like we have Fate breathing down our necks, waiting to strike and take it all out from under us. And we've talked about that, and even if it happens - we know we'll be able to pull it together and make it work. Just in the 7 months we've been together, we've been through a lot, probably more than I've faced with anyone else. This might not seem very traumatic from the outside, but to see us the way we were as opposed to the way we are now, it's apparent to anyone that we're better than we've ever been, we're happier and more comfortable, and we plan to make sure it just keeps getting better, no matter what.
So, once again, life is good, and BJ and I are both in good capable hands...each other's!

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Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Schlemiel, Schlimazel, Hasenpfeffer Incorporated!

*Note from Kati: It took a surprising amount of searching to find out how to spell that mess!*

Well, world, it's happened...I have joined the ranks of such famous women as Shirley Feeney, Laverne Da Fazio, and even Rosanne Connor. I am now among the factory-employed! Unfortunately, I don't work for Shotz Brewery or Wellman Plastics...instead, I work for Electrolux, building electric ranges. My job, specifically, is to install brackets on the backguards. For those of you who don't speak "stove", that's the part with the clock and timer on it, and you never actually see the brackets...in fact, I'm a little puzzled as to their purpose, but if I'm being paid to put them on, I'll do it til my thumbs are sore! And, boy, are my thumbs ever sore!
In addition to the sore thumbs, my arms have joined the party, because for the past two nights, I've been working a screw gun, putting caps on the sides of the backguards, and the screw gun weighs more than I do. From the work I do on the endcaps, I'm going to end up with one killer grip in my left hand, since that's the hand I use to brace all the parts together while I work the screw gun with my right hand (yup, ya caught me...I'm a rightie!). Since I work around a lot of metal and machinery, I have to wear the required safety gear...and, man, oh, MAN, is this stuff SEXY! I have rubber-palmed gloves, over which I have to wear wool arm guards with thumb-holes so that absolutely no skin shows on my arms at any time. Then there's the matter of my safety glasses. Ya know those cheesey, contoured ski-glasses that were all the rage for a while? Yeah, I wear those...complete with an adjustable head strap, so they don't slip off! The only thing optional about my gear is the bandana I wear, and that's just to keep the hair out of my safety glasses. I got used to wearing one when I worked at Hamburger Haven back in Keyser, and I still have all my Haven-reeking headrags. No matter how many times I wash them, they STILL smell like Haven food! I think working at Electrolux will take care of that, though...every night when I come home, BJ hugs me, gives me a kiss, tells me he missed me and he loves me, then adds "You smell like stove parts, go change..." Electrolux has a distinct aroma of metal, propane fumes (from the tow motors) and occasionally...dog food. Yeah, there's a dog food plant right up the road, and when they crank the furnaces on, EVERYONE knows about it! So, maybe it's not the most glamorous job in the world, but ya know what? It's a job, first and foremost; it pays better than JCPenney did, it's closer to home (it's a 7 minute drive from my house to the plant) and it's full-time, right off the bat. I'm guaranteed at least 40 hours per week, and they pay weekly. So...say hello to Bracket Brat!
In other news, BJ and I have the house to ourselves again. Matt moved out (I'll spare you the details), so it's just me, BJ, the cats and Addison, when she comes to stay. Since we have the second bedroom open now, it's going to be Addison's room, and next week when we both get paid, we're going to go shopping for Little Miss. We'll be getting her a brand-new big girl and all the trimmings (new sheets, blankets and pillows), a toy box for all her treasures, a bookshelf, a little area rug (hardwood floors and tiny socked feet don't mix well...) and a table where she can color and draw and play with her Play-Doh. Mainly, the table will be for drawing on her own, she loves to do that! Play-Doh is something better suited for the kitchen table...basically, so I can play, too! And...there will be finger paints! Oh, yes...there will be little paint-laden fingers! We're gonna get some big sheets of paper so she can doodle and scribble and smear paint to her little heart's content! And...so I can play, too! Come on, really, you all know me...finger paint and Play-Doh makes for good times, even at my age! Oh, she's also getting some new outfits, too, cause the clothes we have are rapidly being outgrown. I'm going to have fun shopping for a little kid again...I remember buying clothes and fun things for Matty, and I loved it! Even living with Boyd and Tabby, I still got to buy little fun things for the kids and help Tabby pick out clothes. I'm still a big kid at heart, and so is BJ...this is going to be fun! We already have various play sets picked out that we'd like to get for her, and when the weather and funding improves, she'll also have outdoor play areas set up - a swing set, a sandbox, a little wading pool, and perhaps a little playhouse (funds willing).
Well, world, it's WAY past my bedtime, and with that said, it's off to the beddy-bye basket for me, BJ and the boys!

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