Caterwauling

If there’s been a theme to my vacation, it’s “We have hit every Ross Dress for Less in Broward and Palm Beach counties.”

Whee.

I got some sugar skulls wine glasses. Stemless with black skulls and a small bow on top of each. Mine is the hot pink. Mom can have red. There’s a gold one, for Steeler games. And a purple one for an imaginary friend.

I can tell that Mercury started its retrograde bullshit. I did everything for Mom today, from taking her to Bay Bay’s for chicken and waffles, to taking her to Pizza Time out in Coral Springs for pasta e fagioli and Sicilian slices. To two crappy Rosses out that way just because. And when I was walking out of one of those crappy Rosses in the rain to get the car for her, I wiped out and hit the street.

She never laughed so hard. She sounds like a tea kettle when she’s really laughing. No sound but a high-pitched whistle comes out. She can’t breathe and all she can do is whistle harder. It’s the damndest thing. Usually that makes ME laugh. But I was bleeding and it wasn’t all that amusing. 🙂

I figure it was at Ross and I didn’t have any dignity to protect. I do fall very well, I have to admit. Very graceful and slow. I ended up sitting on my ankle and the other leg was out in front of me. I figured to try to fall left since my phone was in my back right pocket. Of all the goals I set out to achieve this year, this is the only one I can check off my list.

The way I fall reminds me of my great-grandmother Anastasia. One day she fell at home after getting a piece of pie from the kitchen. We came home and she was sitting on her ankle (same one) and the other leg out in front of her. She was calmly eating her pie. That was me in the middle of Fort Lauderdale today. I credit her for my grace, and my green eyes.

If only I inherited her dignity.

Speaking of lack of dignity, I now own three bikinis. (Pausing while you laugh hysterically. It’s OK.) I tend to wear bikini tops instead of bras on the weekend. The problem with losing weight is that the boobs are first to go. (RIP boobies.)

I barely even need a bra these days, but I’m not crazy enough to leave the house without something covering them. And I saw all the bottoms I would need on clearance, which was great. I figure, my shorts are falling off. The bottoms HAVE to fit, right?

Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. < / Vinny Barbarino >

(Incidentally, I have an Arnold Horshack laugh when I’m sick. Which I am now. Which means I am on vacation and I HAVE HAD NO BOOZE.)

In any event, I know I have the Horshack laugh because holy shit, me in a full bikini is entertainment of the highest level. I’m in that weird in-between sizing where I can wear juniors’ but I should probably JUST NOT.

However, wearing juniors’ stuff (and a bikini top as a bra, of course) and using my old belt as a hula-hoop was the highlight of my staycation so far.

(Token “Love Trunps Hate” button to match my bumper sticker.)

My old meeting leader Chris (back when I went to the good Weight Watchers meeting in Muddy Branch) always said to toss the fat clothes because you can easily slide back up into them since you just happen to have them. But definitely keep a belt as your progress yardstick, so to speak. Because who wants to fit into an old belt?

Thank you, Chris. As he always used to say to close the meetings, “I look forward to seeing less of you next week.”

I wonder if I would have succeeded had I been able to stay in his classes. Of course, I have a bad habit of thinking everything would better if only I lived somewhere else. 

I sure thought the same thing when I was in Rockville. But I realize now that I had more than my fair share of people who stimulated me intellectually and motivated me emotionally or professionally.

Perhaps that is what I learned on my summer vacation. I was hoping for an epiphany about where I need to be. But the truth is, I could be a whole lot happier no matter where I happen to find myself if I find even just a tiny, regular dose of mentoring and “shop talk” that gives me any sense of direction that is “Forward.”

That could make all the difference between liking and loving Florida. And myself, for that matter.

Yesterday was a total washout. Tropical Depression 9 drenched us. 

Had a clusterfuck-y brunch at Keke’s. It’s pretty bad when the cook quits, the kids in the back are (incorrectly) reading from manuals on how to make sandwiches and omelets, and the two waitresses are reminding customers every two minutes that they close at 2:30. 

Hey, if I didn’t have to send two meals back twice each, and ask for my missing side dishes three times, I would not have been there for a full hour. 

Maybe tell your patrons that it’s gonna be a bad day and to stay at your own peril?

Today is set to be another drencher. So I’m gonna follow the advice I gave all the other Keke’s patrons and go have brunch at FirstWatch. 

I keep watching the weather and prices in the Keys. The overextended houseguest keeps talking me out of it. She also keeps bugging me to feed her ducks.

I am so sick of the daily “Ducks of our Lives” updates and the asshole neighbors who sic their dogs on them. Whatever work-related anxiety that has abated this week has been fully replaced by hysteria about hurt duckies. 

As they say, wherever you go, there you are. As is everyone you take along with you. 

It’s hard to unplug fully. I turned off Facebook notifications and I make it a point not to look at my phone when I know meeting reminders will pop up. But I did promise someone to help them with a project, which means being attuned to email. I keep waiting for this (late as usual) project to arrive so I can know how many vacation hours to charge for.

Took Mom to Jimbo’s Sand Bar in Dania Beach yesterday. I have driven there several times but could never find a parking space. Yesterday Stewie was the only car in the lot. It was glorious.

The Bloody Marys were awful. But the seafood platter (shrimp, scallops and mahi) was very good. I also got the panko-crusted Brie appetizer. Not bad at all. I would definitely go there again. On a weekday.

It ended up being a gorgeous day. Sunny and hot. The storm passed over us and drenched the Gulf. Unfortunately it looks set to hook back around and nail us before wiping out the Outer Banks.

Another place I need to see.

There’s this panic in me now here on Day 2, that what if I never get another day off again? I mean, I should have driven to Tampa or Daytona or Destin and seen the places I’ve always wanted to see that I can’t just cram into one measly weekend.

I even suggested Savannah to mom and she laughed at me. And reminded me that my car is barely built to beat around Delray Beach. Le sigh.

Here I am finally with time, and I’m hanging out in Fort Lauderdale. WTF, right?

Well it isn’t ALL bad …

Today I’m thinking Jupiter. Which I have honestly not set foot in since DA and I went our separate ways. Working up there pretty much ruined it for me anyway; he was my last remaining tie.

Speaking of DA, I finally figured out what screwed him up. It was something I always suspected, but I got all the evidence I needed on his birthday earlier this month.

I wish I could tell him I get it now. That I would have understood if he hadn’t lied to me about it. That I would have loved his dumb ass anyway.

Today doesn’t look so sunny. I have my Coppertone on anyway. My one promise to myself was to get a tan this week. My arms are nice and bronze. But my legs are about six shades lighter and I’d like to remedy that somehow.

I still haven’t ruled out a trip to the Keys. Finances say sit your pudgy pork roast butt home, girl. But the absolute terror of not getting another day off is telling me to break the bank and do what my heart is telling me to do.

As for what the rest of me is saying to do, it’s sleep. I’m purposely not getting out of bed till after the time of day I normally dread the most.

Speaking of anyway, it’s raining and I’m thinking a matinee might be a nice way to spend the day. Yes, I think that’s definitely going to happen. If I could just get out of this bed first …

I figure I’ve never had a vacation before, so I should document it.

We’re in for “Drenching Rains” for the next three days. Cash is low here but I’d be willing to pony up for a couple nights in the Keys. Unfortunately I don’t have any desire to pay an arm and a leg just to get rained out.

The weekend is looking nicer. But the hotel prices are also doubled with Labor Day. So maybe staycation, it is.

It’s off to a great start, though. I just woke up. Normally I’d be on a call in a half-hour. But I will enjoy the silence instead.

I think I could like this “vacation mode” thing.

Even if I achieve nothing this week , perhaps that’s the point. I’ve been missing out all these years that I’ve never actually participated in this wonderful rite of passage. So so so so happy to kick back, watch “Too Cute” and let the clouds pass by …

I realize I have a double Stockholm syndrome going on here.

Escaping one area of my life for a week does not mean escaping the other. My captors are going from 50/50 custody to 0/100.

One of my boys just said the three magic words any girl wants to hear: “I got this.”

I’d give anyone for someone to say that at home, too.

This Invest 99L shit looks poised to ruin my week off. 

I was already rethinking taking off. Big week for me. Busy. And I wouldn’t wish one of the projects on my worst enemy. 

In fact, I just told the writer of that project to send it to me anyway. That’s how bad it is. 

The thing is, I’m pinning all my hopes on this week off. To refresh me and reignite my love for what I’ve spent the last 15 years doing. 

Realistically, I hope to rediscover the plan I had before the company reorganized and I had to start doing everything but writing. And now I have zero confidence in my writing ability because I’m so out of practice. 

At the very least, I won’t have to drive Stewie in the torrential downpours and possible hurricane and/or tornado. 

Although being trapped at home probably won’t help me relax and get creative again. 

Or maybe that’s exactly what I need. 

I’d still rather be in Key West, though. 

I finally asked a full week off.

And there’s like locusts and frogs and shit set to fall out of the sky where I want to head …

I’m guessing “staycation,” it is. (I did not book a hotel. Because that would just guarantee apocalypse.)

If I get to sleep and watch financial TV live and not via ads on their websites that always choke and shut down my computer, I’ll be happy.

And maybe, if I’m being really brave, I’ll even schedule a long weekend in September. Maybe October, too!

As Ellen Page said to Allison Janney in “Juno,” when she said she was going to get Weimerauners after Juno moved out, “Whoa, dream big!”

Hey, it’s all I can do right now. And I cannot tell you how forward I am looking to it …

In case anyone thinks my frame of mind after losing Sia is any better, well. Enjoy that optimism of yours. So cute!

The Baltimore Sun did a very nice story on her. One of my boys sent it my way yesterday, along with a tribute one of her editors did in his newsletter. And I was gut-punched all over again.

This makes me understand the journalism scholarship thing. Again, not quite how I would have honored her. But I get it now.

Her name was all over the air yesterday, actually.

I found out that a mutual friend was with her when she passed. That’s quite comforting. Not only was she not alone, but that she was with such a good friend.

I thanked him for being there. I don’t know why; it sure isn’t my place to say. But she would have said it if she could. I’ve been kind of doing that, letting people know she loved them.

She was always so good about telling me how awesome she thought I was. You feel good when someone like her admires someone like you. I just want to share that as much as I can.

I sent our buddy my favorite photos of her. He appreciated it.

Funny how our worlds connected, even when it wasn’t us connecting.

That’s the thing these days, with the small field we are in and the wide world of social media. You don’t have to reach out and call (don’t ever call me — text me) anyone. You can simply ask someone else how they are doing … or go lurk on their walls and go away quietly with them never being the wiser.

I got up the courage to read some of our last conversations on Faceypages. My last words in my last message to her, sent earlier this summer, were “Love you more.”

I’m so glad that’s the last thing I said to her. I mean, I wish there were so many other things said. But as far as parting words go, I’m OK on our “love you, Goddess”/”love you more” as our final conversation.

Was sitting at a red light here in Braddock Beach. Minding my own business. When BAM!

A VW rear-ends me. 

Mom was with me, and all her aches and pains. 

I was calm. Looked in my mirror and thought very long and hard about throwing Stewie in reverse and flooring it. 

Of course, my car is made of plastic and held together with gum bands and dreams. No match for that tank. So I threw it in park and stomped back to this fool. 

Horns honking. The light was green. Good for them. 

This dumbass didn’t even bother reversing. Or getting out of the car. Or reacting other than to say, “Are you really doing this?”

I said an apology would have been nice. But you’re no real man. So yes, we are doing this. 

He insisted his foot slipped off the brake. I said, “Onto the gas? Why the hell were you so close to me that it would matter?”

Long story short, Stewie is fine. Mom is fine. I got his plate and told him not to be in people’s back seats. 

This reminded me of being 19 and getting bounced in Wilkinsburg, Pa. The guy got out of his car and screamed at me to get back in mine. He was no doubt armed. I complied. 

Not this time.

This guy trailed me by a good mile after I drove away. Hope he thinks next time. I bet he will. He’d better. 

I was truly not looking for more reasons to hate it here. But they sure do seem to keep finding me. 

I like me with fewer chins! Clearly I lost a few between Chicago and West Palm Beach …