five oh

So 50 is really the new 40?

I'm skeptical...

It's just that I like even numbers, not odd, and here I am going into a decade of oddness.

Bah... grumble...

I'm waiting for the AARP (American Association of Retired Persons) mailing to show up anytime now... fuck....

But a big thank you to my friend Melanie (Sparsely Kate) for writing me on FB that 50 means another 30 rockin' years... I'm shooting for more than that even!


Posted at the exact time I was born 50 years ago...


And because my friend Freebird asked for a photo of the now goatee-less Fusion, here you go. I was being serenaded happy birthday at my favorite Mediterranean restaurant tonight...

Oh, and the goatee hopefully will be coming back soon, a new job possibility has come up with a wireless phone company...more later.

four funerals and a wedding...

I've attended four funerals in the past 34 months, starting with my wife's and ending with one last week for one of Terry's best friend's mother. I'm tired of going to them, this last one left me in a funk for half a day, and brought back memories of the last three.

So I was glad to be going to a wedding at last. It was a nice simple one, not fancy because it was in Las Vegas, the couple just happens to live there, the bride works for one of the big casinos in fact. They were married in the fastest ceremony I've ever seen, maybe 10 minutes, if that, which beats the hell out of the 1 1/2 hour Catholic wedding of a cousin I attended years ago. Then we headed over to the home of a friend of the bride's for a nice small backyard reception. It was catered by another family friend who does it for a living, and we feasted on the best Mexican food I've had in a long time. We enjoyed the warm evening air, and the fairy lights and electric red lanterns that were strung up over the half dozen long tables with white linen and red candles. Toasts were made, photos taken, the cake was cut, a bouquet and corset were thrown. Music played over the white outdoor speakers hung on the house, all kinds of music, old and new. Then Billie Jean came on, and the mood changed ever so slightly, and someone went inside the house and put on Micheal Jackson's greatest hits and we danced to Thriller, Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough, Beat It, Bad, and more. Yes, even I, who never dances...danced. Standing under the cooling misters that returned moisture to the dry desert air, Terry and I danced and clapped while watching her amazing 72 year old dad steal the dance floor with his moves. Terry's sons and cousin threw hoops over on the far side of the yard while the smokers stood out on the front driveway lighting up and visiting. The final dance of the night was for the bride and groom alone, the song, Nat King Cole's Unforgettable...
We all talked and laughed, ate and drank, danced and celebrated under the stars and the seemingly billion watt beam of light from the Lexar hotel a mile away.
It felt good to be there.
It felt good to celebrate a beginning for a change.

craigslist

Craigslist rocks. Seriously.

First Terry and I found each other there, seven months ago. Then a few months later I put my parent's old car up for sale on it, and literally 15 hours later I was signing over the pink slip to a nice older couple (whose names were John and Kathy oddly enough). This last week I put my old king size bed, computer desk, two washers and a dryer (I had my own little appliance store going...), TV stand, and electric fireplace on it. I had my first reply in 31 minutes, and by the following Saturday afternoon had sold all of it... wow, better than garage sales...

Now even Weird Al is singing about it...



Heading off on a long drive to Vegas tomorrow, for a wedding and to meet most of Terry's family. Wish me luck... I have to admit I'm a little nervous.

relearning

Last week Terry had a bad day at work. I could hear it in her voice before she told me over the phone during our regular midday call. Nothing horribly wrong, just a rough one, like we all tend to get from time to time.

But the reaction it caused me after we hung up bought back bad memories. I went back to work with a familiar old dread in the pit of my stomach like I used to get when I knew my ex wife was in a bad mood, and I would know life at home that night would be strained at the very least. My daughter would spend the evening "hiding out" in her room (I've read part of her diary she left behind, and was surprised at the level of conflict between her and mom), and I would do my best to avoid Kathy myself.

But as I made pizzas back in the production room after my lunch break (ah, what a glamorous job...), I thought it out, and reminded myself Terry is not my ex wife, who would give me that stare that said I hate my life, and made me feel I was somehow responsible for her unhappiness.

Last year as I read a couple books on relationships and self improvement, I learned something important, it's not my job to make anyone, i.e. parents, siblings, SO, or children, happy. Everyone has to do that themselves, Terry included. I spent over twenty five years trying to make my wife happy, and it fucking wore me down, and out.

And guess what? When I got home, Terry had a nice dinner on the table, and beautiful smile for me as well. She still wasn't in the best mood because of her day, but we talked during dinner, and then went out for coffee later and I told her about what I wrote here. She told me that she has had the same sort of feelings come up before too, due to her second marriage to a guy she should have never married. Then she reminds herself I'm not him.

I don't know how to wrap this post up, I usually like to throw in a zippy little ending, but I don't have one here. I don't want to write about how great it's been finding someone like Terry, or something like that. It's just that it's so easy to talk to her and I didn't have that with my ex wife. Sure we talked, but most the time we were just skimming the surface, especially in the later years with "safe" subjects only, it's so refreshing to be able to talk about anything with Terry, and that makes me very happy.

And as this is Father's day here in the states, to all the blogging dads out there, have a good one!

work

I work in a large refrigerator. 42f (5c) all day long. I wear a black ski cap under my company issued baseball cap that all employees have to wear, along with a heavy winter jacket, also in black. We had a heat wave this last week and it was funny to see the looks on peoples faces as I came to work with the jacket in 85f (29c) temps.

There are four other woman I work with in the deli "production room" as it is called. We make sub sandwiches, wraps, salads, dinner bowls, and pizzas. My "speciality" is salads and pizzas, but truth be told, it isn't very hard or challenging work, even though we had four people wash out because they weren't fast enough. Funny, because many days (like today) I don't feel all that fast. But neither did Clara or Megan today either, I think some days we just run faster than others.

We have become close in the time we've worked together though, I guess working in a room 20 by 15 feet does that. We all have nicknames, Clara is the Queen Bitch (she proudly admits it), Megan is Crybaby, Simple (yes, that's her name) is Complicated, and Stephanie is Chatty Cathy. I'm called the Captain, but none of us are the boss in our room, the deli dept manager is, but I guess with Clara and I being the oldest, the others just look to us to tell them what to do, and if no one has taken command by the time I get to work, I step into my old management role just because I can't stand disorganization, and someone has to make the decisions...

Clara and I get along the best, We see eye to eye on many things (except politics) and both do not suffer fools gladly. She told me she liked me when I first came into the department and told her I couldn't work in the seafood dept because I almost threw up in training when the trainer was gutting a whole fish, and admired the fact I could be that honest... I've been over to her home to work on her computer, meet her husband and a couple of her kids. A big Harley bike riding family, she and her husband make beautiful leather cowboy boots that sell for up to a thousand dollars a pair. She, like me went to work mainly for the benefits.

Megan is the baby of the group, only 25, and rarely ever cusses, but loves to whine and complain about work, hence the nickname. Clara and I more than make up for her lack of language though, even though it's against company policy. We have declared our room a "cuss away" zone, and more than one employee (including the boss) has made use of it from time to time.

Simple came from India four years ago, and it's always interesting to listen to her tell about what life was like living there for her first 26 years. She married an American in an arranged marriage where she never saw her future husband until ten days before the wedding, and never kissed him until after the ceremony. She has a little boy now, but has separated from her husband, something she hasn't told her family back home yet...

Stephanie, or Steph as she likes to go by, works only a couple days a week in the production room, filling in where needed. She is a very nice lady, but Clara doesn't care for her much because she talks all the time. She just reconciled with her second husband for the fourth time, has a son that ended up in jail for a week, and a daughter that is causing problems as well. But she always comes to work with a smile on her face.

Like I said earlier, the job isn't hard. We're all just making 20 cents above minimum wage, but with 10 percent unemployment in the region, we're thankful for the steady work and the health coverage that kicks in in nine days. I told Clara today I know I'm not working up to my potential right now, but I keep reminding myself I'm here for the health care, to get my prostate biopsy done and any treatments I might need. I've put other stuff on hold for now to take care of this. But down the road I have other plans, Terry and I have moved in together now (more on that on a future post), and we've talked about what we'd like to see happen by the end of the year. Will I be working at the grocery store at that point? I don't know yet.

But I'd sure like to grow back my goatee that the company made me shave off as a condition of hire...

music and sarcasma

I found this on my friend Freebird's blog a while back (sorry, no link as she's private) and wanted to share it. It's become a favorite around the household of late. I like the subtle sarcasm of the video, making fun of the old time music shows. Watch the drummer's halarious expressions during the video... and I love the rooster on the cow's back as well.
Not to mention Lily is quite easy on the eyes and ears too...



And speaking of sarcasm, my good friend Unspoken Drama sent this important advertisment to me a while back. Enjoy.

Click to enlarge, if you care...

thoughts, courtesy of Deb

I'm catching up on Deb's past posts (slowly trying to catch up with everyone), and last month she was talking about anger and how she has learned to look at it as just another emotion. Not letting it get the best of her, and I could relate to that.

I remember one time long ago when I got so angry and frustrated with my wife that I picked up one of our dining room chairs and slammed it down so hard I broke it. To this day I still only have three chairs. I remember feeling so stupid at doing that, yet I know it was the best way to let it out, rather than verbally. And I would never have taken it out on her physically. These days in the rare instance that I get really mad for whatever reason I will purposely look for something to break (but always being practical, something already broken or that I was going to throw away anyway), the bigger the better. It releases the pent up emotions much quicker than just internalising it and letting it fester. My friend Gillette has written about hitting a tennis racket on the bed to let her emotions out, same kind of thing for me.

Another thing that stands out when reading Deb's blog is how honestly she writes about herself. She's continually looking deeper inside herself to figure out who she is, why she is. She asks the hard questions and looks for the answers. I feel like all I do is skim the surface of myself these days, afraid to dig deeper, or maybe I'm just too lazy. But then I think about the posts I've published here, and think maybe I'm just tired of doing it so much in the past and need a break. I could worry and fret about my broken relationship with my daughter, or what could happen with Terry (always waiting for the other shoe to drop, that's me), but I don't want too anymore. I want to skate along and just enjoy life now, and let what happens happen. I'm tired of analyzing my life and what coulda beens or shoulda beens.

But at the same time I don't think I'll be able to stop, because it's in my nature (all our natures?) to constantly self analyse. Childhood issues, relationships (or lack thereof) with parents, kids, SO's, co-workers, "why me's", why them's", body image, etc etc. We fuck with our minds all the time. We're constantly searching for that place of perfect peace, harmony, happiness, serenity, calm.

But does it exist? Some people say they have found it through meditation, prayer, therapy, or other means. But do they really? I don't know, but I guess we'll never stop looking.