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My Profile
Because I can't bear to eulogize Doug - 2008-08-19
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7:29 p.m. - 2004-06-23
Took Wolf to the dentist today. The hygienist and I were making chat and she asked me what I did for a living. I snorted and told her that currently I’m a bum but am considering a career as a Sin Eater. She laughed like hell. Golly, don’t I love someone who gets the joke. You have to admit, Sin Eating was one heck of a scam. I wouldn’t mind a slightly shady job. During my employed years I worked very hard to be as honest and trustworthy as possible. I never lied to, bullied, or hustled anyone. I figure if I could stay clean selling used cars, the world owes me a chance to be shifty and unethical. As a Sin Eater I could visit someone’s home, eat all their best food (including any stray Godiva) and then declare that person cleansed of sin. Good deal, eh? Two small hitches to this plan, finding people dopey enough to believe me and The Diet. I have plateaued. Not a consarn ounce have I lost since whittling off the pounds I gained a couple months ago. I’m disgusted. Also quite at sea as how to work harder or eat any less than I do now. I’m close enough to my goal to almost touch it. Being stranded here with the last 40 pounds to go is infuriating. Did some weeding today and other maintenance chores. Jammed the last couple tomato cages in as deep as I could. Need Mike to drive them in all the way. The broccoli is getting HUGE and of course I planted it too close together. I’m trying, but parking a itty-bitty sprout in the ground and then walking clear over to the other end of the yard to plant the next one (or so it seems) feels wrong. The garden looks so naked after I first plant. I did better with the new veggie patch. The tomatoes have tons of elbow room. The cuke vine is being trained to grow upward on its own tomato cage and the squash, zucchini, and pumpkins have loads of room to sprawl. Think I’ve reached my limit with garden beds. I’m keeping up okay, but I know things will get overwhelming if I break any more new ground. Mike wants to expand the berry bramble. This is fine, berries take care of themselves. I collected my first pint of blackberries this morning. YAY!!! I beat the deer, birds, and bears to them! Currently blooming: Day lilies, stargazer lilies, tiger lilies, roses, and after a looooooong nap, the strawberries are flowering again. Today was Wolf’s last day of school. A half day. He was sad. Poor kid is lonely outside of Room 13. I used to be sad on the last day of school too. The other kids would be whooping and tossing paper around and I’d be trying to wait until I got home before I had my cry. I loved school. It was an oasis of sanity. There were rules which made sense. Good work was rewarded. Bad guys were punished. I knew what to expect every day and no nasty life altering surprises sprang at me while I was in the classroom. At home nothing made sense. I’d get a beating for getting an ‘A’. Too goddamn smart for my own good my mother would say to me as she reached down the belt from the hall closet. I was the only kid I knew who hid being on the honor roll. Then there was the matter of my little sister’s dyslexia. It didn’t have a name back then, she was just classed as a problem learner. I wasn’t allowed to make my sister feel bad because she was slow, so my report cards and medals and trophies hit the trash can as soon as I got in the door with them. Yet if she came home with a ‘C+’ it meant a trip to the ice cream stand and a flurry of boastful phone calls to the relatives. She made the ‘B’ honor roll her junior year in high school and my mother bought her a fucking car. Straight up. My sister used to get presents on MY birthday too. It was because she was little and would feel left out. Right. The thing that really fried my cakes was that she kept getting presents on my birthday for years after she passed the age when I had been ‘old enough to understand’ why she got gifts on my birthday but I never even got a 2nd piece of her birthday cake, let alone a present when it was her big day. I resented this absurd favoritism, but I didn’t resent my sister. She wasn’t a suck-up or anything. She never turned down a treat, but she never went begging for them either. All the love was kind of foisted onto her and she wasn’t at fault. We fought all the time, but that’s because we were sisters not because I hated her. It’s a shame she turned out so much like my mother, until she was about 11 she was really sweet. Gotta go snuggle with my clean toothed boy. Good night, ~LA
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