26 November 2006

Hi, my name is S

and I'm an alcoholic and a gambler. And I spent 4 days in Vegas and didn't lose my shirt. I lost 2 bucks of my money, 10 bucks of Aladdin's money. This is a beautiful thing. I do not recommend that gambling addicts reading this try this at home or any damned where else. It was challenging to stay mindful and not get sucked into the action at a blackjack or poker table. But I managed it.

Vegas, Baby!

So my friend C married her fiancee K on Friday November 24th at Caesar's Palace, Las Vegas. The group known as 'the girls' could not let her go through this alone sooooo, we each made our way out to Sin City. N and her husband T, N served as C's matron of honor, C having served as N's maid of honor last month. K, L, G and I make up the rest of the Las Vegas Lunch crowd - we have described ourselves as such because what happens at lunch stays at lunch. K, L, and G did not arrive until Wednesday pm so N and I went over to keep C company as the makeup artist did the dry run of her wedding day make up. Make no mistake, C is a stunner with no make up but with the help of makeup artist Mimi, C looked astonishingly lovely. After that we lunched at Caesar's buffet and then the rest of the gals arrived and we traipsed back to the Aladdin to greet them.

C is a transcendantly thoughtful sort and so well organized that it scares a random kind of girl like myself. She provided us each with bags of serious swag, anything you might imagine needing in Vegas and then some.

So back to the wedding prep, Friday morning arrives and we whirl over to visit with C while N is getting her mani and pedi done. C is so happy that we're there with her and so happy to be marrying K that she is glowing. We must whirl off to the scene of the reception (Spago - pretty swank food, more on that later) to drop off cake cutting equipment, champagne flutes, and stuff for the tables. We chat with the event manager Brian who is, not surprisingly, also from sunny NJ. Because, everyone is either from Jersey, is related to someone from Jersey or knows someone from Jersey- it's just a fact of living. After lunch we go back to get dressed and then return to C's room to help her get ready and K will do N's eye makeup. At a point, C tells us that she was not a nice person, not looking for new friends and that we simply cared for her and let her care for us and that our presence really enhanced the whole experience and made it all it could be for her. Well, tears, snot and mascara flowed (on the mascara wearers of which I am no longer one). After the tears had cleared sufficiently that we could all speak again, we spoke as one in saying with all the love intended - "shut the fuck up, C." (this is code for I love you)

14 November 2006

Made Up Words

Some of the folks with whom I work will make up their own words for things, some are not uncommon like skrimps. Some are seriously deranged like nutmentation, which is a new personal favorite of mine.

What I Overhear...

One of the women I work with was fussing with one of the other women I work with (this is not an ever remotely uncommon occurence.), and said to me "What am I? chopped yogurt?" I said, "Excuse me, I didn't understand what you said." (I wanted to say "What the fuck?")
She repeated, "What am I chopped yogurt?" I said, "no". Because there's no other answer to give although I wanted to say "do you mean chopped liver or chopped vomit?"

13 November 2006

What They Don't Tell You About Cats...

When you get a cat, the powers that be in the cat bestowal business hip you up to the cat box business and concomitant smells, the canned food business and concomitant smells there. What they don't warn you about is the instinctive business of cats and how that wreaks havoc with any mice that might find their way indoors. This place is mainly carpeted but there is some linoleum about so when I've got 2 cats within eyeshot and the pitter patter of 2 sets of four feet on the linoleum I know we've got and intruder and with 3 cats, said intruder is close to toast. Also, mice scream, it sounds like keening (yeah, as in keening, wailing and gnashing teeth). That's not a happy sound. Then we got the triumphant stalking return of the cats, fortuitously for me none see fit to gift me with the carcass so I retrieve it and put it in the garbage can. (and yeah, sap that I am offer it Reiki and a chant or two to ease its Bardo (transition).

11 November 2006

Reiki

It's hard to believe I've gone through 70 odd posts without mentioning Reiki. So here we go, Reiki is a 2,500 year old Tibetan healing modality based on the Tibetan Buddhist practice of the Medicine Buddha. Reiki consists of two Japanese kanji Rei - universal or spiritual and Ki - life force energy. It's a chakra based system of energy healing, based on the premise that the practitioner of Reiki taps into the universal matrix of energy that surrounds all existence. Energy healing in general is based on the premise that disease in the body is caused by blocked emotions, in chakras or meridians - meridians being energy channels, and chakras are large intersections of energy channels in the body. Reiki is kind of a spiritual Roto-rooter that unblocks.

I was first exposed to Reiki while in massage school, and to say that I was resistant is quite the understatement, I sat in the front row of the presentation arms folded and glaring the eye of doom at the presenter. Quite frankly, I thought the whole energy deal was crap and nonsense. Which just goes to show what I know. So I sit through a talk on the subject, then all folks in attendance are instructed on how to offer one another Reiki. I was working with my friend Ro, receiving Reiki, when one of the presenter came around and put one hand on me and one on Ro. I can be a little prone to hyperbole but it was a life altering experience for me. Not being a very kinetic sort, I was surprised that I needed to jump up and down for about 5 minutes just to get back in balance. And most notably of all, Reiki banished the insomnia that I'd been dealing with for 20 odd years. I was most surprised to start sleeping 5, 6, 7 hours a night for 6 or 7 nights a week. Used to call it a good week when I get 3 hours a night, 4 nights out of 7. So this new sleep pattern was quite deluxe.

Puppy D

Yes, Puppy's middle initial D does stand for Dog. Because what other middle name would you have for a cat named Puppy? She is most oftern photographed with Vinnie a/k/a Stripe. She has a sinister streak that I very much admire. And a gift for demanding attention by batting one upside one's head.

Stripe a/k/a Vinnie


This is the big cat Stripe, he's wearing a cat version of a beater shirt so he was nicknamed Vinnie Bociagalupe. He just needs some bling around his neck.

10 November 2006

The Shark

This is Sharkbutt. This is his baby picture, he's two now and just as cute but bigger and doesn't sit still for photos these days, as he's got Stripe and Puppy to annoy the crap out of regularly. He likes to groom them, which all things being equal is cute to observe, at least until the object of his grooming lodges an objection, and swats. Putting Neosporin on a cat is like teaching a pig to sing. Waste of time for both of you and annoying to both of you.

09 November 2006

Perspective


Like most folks sometimes, I lose my perspective on what is important, what is manageable and what I have to leave in the hands of the universe. When I need to regain perspective I take myself to the beach and I sit and watch the waves. They're always different, but always there. Always larger than me, my life and whatever problems I might face.

Different Shit, Different Day

At work I have a spokesmodel, will refer to her as S for short. She is my spokesmodel because she is most adept at making coworkers cry. And it's funny because she's not nasty to anyone, just really, really dry - affect is flat and well, her favorite question is" And? As in: phone staff: This person didn't get his check. S: And? PS: Do you have it? And dry... as in this example courtesy of Idiot: Are you going to the ladies room? S: Yes, why? I: can you stop and get me a water? S: want me to pick you a snack off the floor too? The S actually stands for Snarky because pound for pound she's the only one there quite as snarky as me.

08 November 2006

Ritual

The church is still standing post my heathen ass in attendance at Unc's funeral. Oh and I didn't snot, although it was sadder than I'd anticipated. Looking around the room for people who would have been there had they not already passed on, including Unc. Listening to the priest deliver the eulogy (and wondering as I always do if he's going to screw up the name of the wife, kids or siblings - no, he didn't). The music was fitting and churchy, the usual suspects of church musicness. Several cousins in attendance, none of us getting any younger (or apparently any saner.) The aunts and uncles and father are not getting any younger, although my mother seems to be getting younger.

06 November 2006

Accusations

Because I am a smart ass of somewhat legendary proportions I am often accused of being up to no damn good and not necessarily wrongly accused at that. However, I have also been accused of teaching certain of my nieces how to play Naked Flying Barbie. This was not my invention, nor was it anything I taught anyone to play. I also discouraged it from becoming Naked Flying Flaming Barbie, I'm just saying. It wasn't me.

More Mess I Overhear

One of my staff reported that she spent her day off Friday attempting to secure a copy of her mother's birth certificate for her mother. Her mother is known by many, if not most as Anna May and my friend went in requesting a birth certificate for Anna May. The folks in charge could not find it, mainly because on her birth certificate her name is Ann Mary. Or maybe it's Bob. It's hard to know.

Snarkiness Rewarded

Picture it - an irate man phones because he's managed to run his check through his shredder and is demanding an immediate replacement - my next check date is 11/30. He says, "You mean to tell me that I cannot get a new check until next month, this is ridiculous. He, of course, wants to speak to a supervisor so the spokesmodel passes him off to S, he wants to escalate it futher so they pass it on to me. He tells me his story and becomes increasingly irate because we are not issuing any more checks until 11/30. He loudly exclaims this is ridiculous. Me - "And you running your check through your shredder was somehow not ridiculous?" I get two of those a year.

04 November 2006

A Confession of Sorts

My sister and mother were joking last night that the straw drawing has already commenced for who has to sit next to me at my uncle's funeral. There's no other way to put this but that I become emotional to the point were we can characterize it as 'carrying on' at funerals. I'm not certain why, I think it has something to do with some renegade DNA from some Irish mourner type in the family tree. It coulda been schizophrenia or borderline personality disorder so I can't bitch too much. But I can be a real treat at a funeral. The following conversation took place between the sister and the mothership last night. ::imitating me crying:: then in unison further imitating me - 'who's in the box again?' Nice. Real nice. If I were the two of them, I'd hope like hell I'm still around so someone cries over their mean asses. Of course, what makes this an even more interesting situation is I've attended more funerals than you unless you're an undertaker, also, more weddings unless you are professional celebrant of some ilk. While I was living in the hotbed of cosmopolitan living Scranton, PA, one or more of the nuns was kind enough to scrounge me up a gig turning pages for a church organist. Since I mostly attended classes at night, this was a pretty sweet gig for me, as was the fact that I had a mad crush on the organist. I got paid about $5 per service which kept me in beer money without me having to steal, but I managed to get through those services without snotting, but of course, I was drunk, oh and mesmerized by S, the organist's cleavage. Church and breasts, is there anything better?

And What a Long Strange Trip It Continues to Be

My father's eldest brother passed on yesterday afternoon, or in the phrasing of some Buddhist folk of my acquaintance delocalized. He had been suffering from cancer for over a year and while a suboptimal outcome for those who will miss him, not unexpected. When my sister reported this news to me, she asked if I was ok and I demurred (ok, I said why? I don't give a shit.) My concern is with my father and further, his end is certainly closer than his beginning at this point. My father and his two brothers had a most disturbing competition in which they seemed to escalate 'who could be the sickest' for a time the fathership seemed to be in the lead, as he had fallen off of the roof and broke the living shit out of his elbow and arm and upon admission to the hospital, his EKG revealed he suffered a mild heart attack sometime earlier. But then his middle brother who we will refer to as M, had his hip replaced, then O (oldest) got his diagnosis and short term prognosis, which wasn't good. This competition is too bizarre to me, outside of my experience but unfortunately not outside my observation. The mothership by comparison is a paragon of good health, has always been an exercise fiend, absolutely always. I recall her mopping the floor at tennis, racquetball, basketball with comers of any age or gender. I'm glad we've followed in her footsteps, my siblings and I. And I realize that no one gets out of here alive, I do. But why die before your time? And why would you not enjoy the time you've got?

02 November 2006

New Doc City

Got a new doc today, and she's a keeper. Most of them aren't. The maintenance of the skeleton and skeletal muscles is in the hands of PW, DC, she of the sharpest elbows on the planet. And of course, I have had my share of gatekeepers over the years. Some good, some bad, many indifferent. Mostly I have a couple of bouts with bronchitis a year, have to have my daily Clarinex because of the cats I live with that I'm allergic to, and have to have an inhaler for the periodic dances with asthma. Oh and of course, one does need someone to send you to the ER if need be when no bones are sticking out. So anyway, the new doc gets points for listening, for coughing up a lung because I was being blisteringly funny and for agreeing with my assessment re: one of the drugs that the fired doc had had me on for something that I ain't got. Oy.