Caterwauling

Had an interesting dream conversation with Momma last night.

I want to say we were at Ross.

She ran up to me and said there I was — she couldn’t find me.

She told me that was the longest 10 minutes ever.

I was like, Mom, that was a little longer than 10 minutes. You left a year and five months ago.

She looked stunned. But … it doesn’t feel like it was that long, was what she said.

I said oh believe me, it feels 10x longer.

We had a good little chat, how time is so different. How it must be moving fast but she hardly even notices it now.

That was the extent of the dream.

But I do hope she makes a habit of showing up.

She always promised that once she learned how to communicate with me, she would.

Gotta say I’m pretty impressed she nailed it within a year and a half.

Hope I am aware enough to hear from her tonight.

This is feeling very Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour, in the very best way.

A friend lost his mom three weeks after I did.

I’d told him then that I expected the firsts (holidays, birthdays) without Momma to suck.

But the seconds would REALLY suck.

Because they’d make it real that the firsts weren’t just a one-off.

I went to see Kamala Harris in Miami, on the final stop of her book tour.

It was … exquisite.

Especially after having to see Cocaine Don Jr. not once but TWICE this year, on my own dime and my own time.

Seeing Kamala … host Ana Navarro … and Ana’s dog Cha Cha loving on Kamala was so HEALING.

I sat with a lovely lady named Lynne. I told her about Don Jr.’s political aspirations that he’d outlined at the October event.

She was stunned. She hadn’t seen that written about anywhere.

I said yeah because I don’t want to lose my job. But it’s real and I want to warn all Democrats to STOP THAT SHIT.

In any event, Lynne asked me after Kamala’s event if it was worth coming down to Miami from Palm Beach.

I said oh, absolutely. And we wished each other luck.

What I didn’t say was my heart cracked in half twice.

First, when Kamala said the grief after the 2024 election could only be compared with how devastated she was after her mother died.

And second, when Kamala was sharing her Thanksgiving plans, particularly how she makes her cornbread stuffing recipe …

I thought, Momma will never make me her famous stuffing balls again.

I mean, I already knew Mom’s second birthday beyond the veil would be hell. So my ass was as far out of town as I could get it.

The second Thanksgiving … sandwiched between Momma’s Nov. 10 wedding anniversary, Gram & Grampy’s Nov. 25 wedding anniversary … and Grampy’s Nov. 26/27 (overnight) death date … is fucking me up pretty good.

Then to grieve the LEGITIMATE 47th president having the election taken from her by Elon Musk and dipshit redhats …

And to know there will never be another stuffing ball …

I’m rekt.

And yes I’m using crypto speak. Since that shit is pretty fucked up too.

The only silver lining to crypto being in the toilet is that Dem tRumps have lost billions.

They need to lose much more than that for me to ever give a shit about them.

Though I did watch Mr. “Quiet Piggy” swoon at Mamdani in his presence.

Like, the man was a registered Democrat till he realized the Rethuglicans were gullible assholes who would follow his diapered ass off a cliff.

But fat fuck seemed enthralled.

He doesn’t deserve joy. But I almost felt empathy.

Like, he’s had every opportunity to do the right thing, but now he has to let others fight the good fight. While he continues to be dead and dementia-addled and hated.

I do take some small amount of relief that Mom isn’t here to worry EVEN MORE about her hospital and doctor bills, which are going up for everyone thanks to Piggy President.

But that’s the only relief.

I miss her so much lately, I feel like I’m going to lie down and die myself.

Trump first, please. Oh god, if you’re out there, please please please let me outlive that whole fucked up family. Also let democracy outlive them all.

In Dancing with the Dead updates …

I dreamed I was talking to Momma about someone who has been a problem moving to the West Coast (of Florida).

She knew. I didn’t have to give her any details.

Saw this poem at the NoMa/Gallaudet station. Maybe an ancestor led me then, too.

She also knows someone else is finally ready (forced by a property sale, no doubt. I can’t measure how happy they’ve probably been to live in peace) to go with them.

Momma had always encouraged me to keep up with the meanie’s hijinx online. But I finally did a hard stop. And I asked her if I was missing anything.

She said same shit but you didn’t have to ask.

BUT … Momma said, once all the Clampetts have gone West … “She’s no longer your problem.”

I said for real? She’ll shut up about me.

She laughed. Oh how I missed that laugh!

She said no but don’t think about her again. She got her man away from you for good, and she finally feels that.

I love these conversations with Momma. Wish they could be in person for real.

But so much better than the silence that usually greets me when I could use a chat with her.

Hear that, Goonhilda? You won. Now, shoo.

When I was new to finance, I tripped over so many phrases that are now part of my everyday vernacular.

Like, I see proofers trying to correct this stuff. Sometimes at the expense of not seeing/fixing actual mistakes.

OK so maybe that’s why I have to do 100 rounds of reviews a year.

In any event, they always trip up over “the back half” (of the year). Or 2H, for short.

(Please don’t change 2H to Q2. Ever. Please.)

A lot of times, I try to avoid this stuff. Like, at some point someone (Ready Treaddy) insisted we capitalize the word Members if it comes after a publication name.

I HATE that.

So I rewrite sentences to say “members of.”

I hate THAT too but it’s my little win.

In any event, usually the back half/2H refers to a calendar year.

But I also think about it in terms of life.

With Republicans destroying the climate, ripping families apart and fucking the economy like it’s a 10-year-old girl, as they do … we’re all aging fast.

Then there’s the Mar-a-Lago Face set, where you get plastic surgery to make you look older and uglier.

So really, the “back half” of our lives probably starts at, what, 30? 35?

In which case, I’m probably in the back yard of my life. With one foot in a sinkhole.

Well now I forget what I wanted to write, as I have depressed myself.

Something something at least I’m traveling and doing fun shit while I can. Or maybe something something too set in my ways to change now.

Probably something something it’s the holidays and damn I miss my Momma. The person I spent the front two-thirds of my life (and the back two-thirds of HER life) with.

Or maybe it’s the fact that i do have to slow my spending but I’d rather slow my aging.

Or maybe it’s a friend is between jobs and I’m proud of him for renting a house in Anna Maria Island between gigs. I said what’s it like without a single Slack or Teams ping and he said that’s what heaven is.

Sad but that’s so true — a day without a Teams ping is … well, other than FARCICAL … what passes for a real vacation.

No wonder I’m out chasing highs between the pings. Clocking out and not wanting to clock someone, for X number of boundary-protected minutes or hours.

That’s my Christmas wish. That and not having to worry about money if you do read someone to filth for their 83rd “bumping this up.” Bump this, foo.

There’s a gal I like very much who keeps asking me for stuff.

Two of them, actually.

It’s funny how I don’t get that screaming rage every time I hear from them.

Which is a lot.

Especially this week.

I think about the Ready Treaddy of it all. Like how I have a physical reaction every time they ping me. Why the difference?

Other than the verbal abuse of 2022-’23? And the “O” face from the Treaddy? And the …

OK I get it.

I often wish I were the goddess of yesteryear who was fine with staying at the office till 8 or 9 or even 10.

I could get my shit AND their shit done AND drive home after.

I wonder if I hadn’t burned myself out from that, could I do it again.

I’ve often said I wouldn’t trade working from home for anything. But having these people in my house, even the nice ones, I feel a way about that.

Like it is imperative to close the laptop so there is a line of demarcation between that and whatever it is I do. (Or, more to the point, don’t do.)

Anyway it’s 6 am and I owe all three of them something.

And while I should prioritize the Treaddy project as it involves multiple people … I promised the nicest of all that I will bump her to the top of the list.

(To be fair, this is an instant revenue producer once I achieve it.)

So even if no one understands my logic, well, I do. And there is, in fact, logic.

I wonder if insulting people works on other people. Truly. Or has everyone in their orbit similarly put a force field where a boundary would normally be.

I always say narcissists pick the strongest people to be their victims.

But I truly think this one landed on earth today. Seems totally oblivious to the fact that there wouldn’t be a problem if they weren’t the original problem.

Kelly texted to ask if my cuspy ass identifies as Gemini.

Because 2026 is a year of revenge for her sign, her BFF’s (and mine, tho a diff person) and my sign.

Fuck. Yeah.

She sent me something else. That we’re all hitting the three-year mark of confronting our illusions, establishing boundaries, cutting off toxic people, and learning the difference between martyrdom and genuine service.

She left her toxic ex 2.5 years ago. I did too but I don’t have any financial or karmic ties to him like she does to hers.

I HAVE however been back at my job for three years.

Hmm.

My bestie paid me a weird compliment publicly again today.

Like, someone had to have told her to kill me with kindness.

You really can’t kill me, sorry.

As I told Kelly, I 100% learned I do not need to give people a chance. Off with those peasants’ heads.

The cats are fighting today. But today it’s different. It’s Magic who’s hissing and growling at Bella.

It’s ALWAYS the reverse. He ALWAYS hurts and antagonizes her. And she yowls at him half the day to get the fuck away from her. Before he pounces on her and takes out her fur.

But today, she jumped on him from high surfaces, twice.

He is BIG MAD.

I apologized to him from Bella.

And I realized he and Bell are Ready Treaddy and me.

He and RT will stomp all over us.

But when we finally launch our fat asses onto them … well-deserved as it may be … but suddenly we’re the assholes.

It just doesn’t feel good to be the asshole. Let them be it.

Like there is a phone call I know I need to make. Or a “reply” to hit in my inbox.

I genuinely want to. But I think of someone this person and I have in common … someone who needs to be launched into the fucking sun … and I can’t do it.

I trust myself not to SAY that.

But I cannot trust myself not to ENVISION it.

Anyway. Magic is outside and refuses to come in. Bella is in but refuses to eat.

I’ve stress-eaten enough for all three of us.

Anyway, the new moon in Scorpio is all about confronting your shadow side and all the toxic shit that comes with it.

The recommendation is to write a letter to yourself, forgiving yourself for your bullshit that you’ve been on. For the past three years, apparently.

Man. I don’t know that I pay for a big enough data plan to list all that bullshit out.

But I am quite forgiving to myself.

I offered her a cookie. Two of them. From Levain. Along with a slice of pumpkin spice cake from Levain. And four chocolate-dipped pretzels from Capital Candy Jar.

Shit, I gotta forgive myself for that bullshit too.

Oh, New Moon. Help your witchy sister out here to not go back to the toxic behaviors that occurred as recently as two hours ago.

We got a new HR person.

I don’t know why. All they do is make my life harder.

Like if I have busted my butt to get someone to fall in line and they don’t, don’t tell me to PiP them. I’ve already done two people’s jobs for an extended period. Now to do those jobs AND try to not get sued? Hard pass, Grimace.

Also I sucked it up and was super nice to the new one. But I said look y’all I am drowning right now between PTO (where annoying people annoyed me) and staff PTO/UPTO. Give me a fuckin minute before you require me to do the November semi-annual reviews that have no pay raise attached to them.

Her: I totally get it.

Her four hours later: Here are the employees we need you to review before Thanksgiving. Did you have any questions?

Me: Yes, do you think you should see a doctor about your memory problem?

I see I am going to do my level best to avoid this one, too.

Speaking of the one who chased me via treadmill my whole time away and time back …

I got 16 emails about some meeting we NEEDED to have.

In addition to at least 10 Teams requests.

My away message said “Fires only” when I came back. My actual staff with actual fires did not bother me with the fires. (They should have.)

But lo, requests for a meeting and the employee newsletter reached four-alarm status.

I always go back to how this one blindsided and/or embarrassed me for a good year and a half in public at every opportunity.

I’ve since learned to “gray rock” with this one. Sometimes I smile, sometimes I eye roll. Ok a lot of times I eye roll.

Forget it, I am the opposite of a gray rock. I wear my shield like my MAGA neighbor wears trump T-shirts every day.

Anyway I finally say, I cannot take the emails. Put a meeting on my calendar for any day but Friday.

No meeting.

A few days later, in a 20-person meeting, it comes up that Goddess won’t circle back about a meeting.

I’m like yo I said put it on my calendar.

So they did … for last Friday.

It was so painful. So so painful. Audio issues. Echoes. A transfer to a conference line and the number was botched in the echoes. I figured out the mistake first but then I accidentally disconnected myself.

Anyway it was a meeting about deadlines. which we talked about at our previous meeting.

Then as soon as that overheated mess ended, I got asked about the newsletter. A request I dodge every quarter right along with reviews.

That was Friday. I did wake up after the Sarah McLachlan concert at 4 am to write it. Turned it in at 8. And informed my staff I had turned it in.

And thank God bc Ready Tready reached out to them at 10 to ask for it.

Look, none of this is blaming this individual for anything other than treating me so bad for so long that I will clean my house before I do them a favor.

In fairness, they did let me deal with all my fires.

I mean they should but I will give that grace.

I did get half a compliment at this week’s installment of the 20-person meeting.

A “Goddess did a good job on (some unrelated project.”

I asked my friend in the meeting if I hear that right.

They said are you familiar with the concept of sarcasm.

And honestly … that was the first time I think I ever felt compassion for Tready Freddy.

They clearly hate me.

I clearly despise them right back.

It’s like Christine Lavin’s “Inner Bitch” song. Forced politeness on the outside, but our inner bitches are running after each other with pointy objects.

And that almost gave me compassion for them.

Like, they are a gnat to me. I let it bug me till I squash it.

But I am probably SUCH a problem to them.

I can live without them. I had 40-odd years without knowing them and honestly those were the days.

Much to their great dismay and misfortune, however, they need me …

And I happen to be very good at what I do, which makes THEM look good.

And really that’s all this was ever about. They create projects to make themselves look good. I mean, sure, I assume it benefits the company in some way. But whether there’s humility in that pursuit is something I’ve oft wondered about.

In any event, now I will be the last to turn in reviews. I write good ones, too. I don’t just plug in numbers and be done with it. Though maybe if I did, they’d not ask me to do them? HAHAHHAA. I’m so silly.

Ready, Treaddy!

A girl I follow is like 300lb and pregnant. She calls herself skinny.

I love that for her. I’ve spent a lifetime calling myself fatass. And it seems to have manifested that way. Perhaps I should try the other?

Anyway, I had a marvelous time (ruining everything) in D.C. this weekend.

Met SO many people.

I always meet people when I travel. But the quantity and quality always seems to go up in D.C.

Anyway I met two nurses. Jasmine from the Hill District in Pittsburgh. I’ll have to post more about her because we had SUCH a good time at the bar at Citizen M in NoMa.

The other is Monica.

There were 39 people on my JetBlue flight from DCA to PBI. (And probably not many more than that on my Southwest to BWI two days earlier.)

Anyway, the 39 of us were crammed into my row over the wing, essentially.

They had let me keep my 14A seat after (apparently) everyone canceled. They moved Monica to 14B.

Meanwhile there were like 20 open rows in either direction.

Balance, they say.

Anyway, we talked the whole flight.

She was a nurse until a health episode forced her into retirement two years ago.

We got to talking about how our moms loved us and how different it is now that they’re gone.

How we travel to keep from sitting at home being sad.

Monica was a nurse in her previous life.

She said her best friend is a labor and delivery nurse still. But Monica preferred working with end-of-life patients.

She explained that there are two “thin places” … where the veil between life and death is thin.

You just KNOW she’s speaking my language, right? The veil isn’t thinning, I always say, around Halloween. Because it’s a veil. It’s always thin.

Like me!

(Trying to emulate that girl I follow while eating pumpkin spice loaf I grabbed from the Levain in Georgetown. Still fat!)

Anyway, she thought that might be weird to talk about on a plane. I laughed and said no, Mom worked in a funeral home. Death care is the family business.

And I agreed, I’d rather see a light go out where there was at least SOME life lived. Even though it’s never long enough, except when the name tRump is involved.

Anyway, I suppose I should go to work. But I wanted to remember “the thin places” where life begins and ends.

As for these not-so-thin places …

I def felt Mom hanging out with me at the Georgetown Waterfront.

And I am convinced Cocoa is back on earth and up for adoption at Crumbs & Whiskers.

Also I may be crazy enough to go back to G’town and adopt her.

Film at 11 from The Crazy Places that refers to my brain right now.

Been dancing with the dead at night again.

My dream last night started out good. I saw Grampy, dressed up as a cleaning lady. Which he’d done when I was young and it was hilarious. I saw Mom and Gram and I want to say Janna in the same outfits.

It was adorable but there was some entity out there they went to speak to, on my behalf.

One by one, they returned with tears in their eyes. It was a no, whatever it was.

I remember saying fuck it, I’m going to go speak to this entity myself. This MF isn’t going to deny the living.

Out of nowhere, Cocoa was released from the doorway (it was now apparent) where my beloveds were coming to speak with me.

Oh that pretty, pretty little girl. The way she looked at me with those big green eyes.

She rubbed my ankles and walked out the door while I talked with Grampy.

I was going to go after her but she never really got too far from me in the past. I figured I’d keep talking to Grampy as long as the mysterious figure would let me, then I’d go get my baby.

Well.

I heard metal slam outside. I said goodbye to Grampy and ran out.

Cocoa had gone into a store that was closing and the steel gates had slammed down. On a timer, too, so there was no human who could help me.

I freaked the fuck out. I screamed that she has thyroid problems. I can’t wait eight hours till you reopen!

I’m calling Joe Biden! I screamed.

That woke me up.

God if only Joe Biden could still save us from the evil overlords who stole the election and destroyed our country in eight easy steps.

If only Joe could reunite me with Cocoa and Grampy and my family beyond the veil.

I feel like I am going to want to remember this dream, so here it is.

In better times, I had decided to do a fast trip to D.C. for a concert.

This was before I did Disneyland, West Hollywood and Vegas. And before that dipshit took a wrecking ball to the East Wing and to the FAA.

And before Marriott pulled the plug on Sonder and canceled all our reservations this week.

So basically I paid good money for the last seat at a Sarah McLachlan show.

But I had a cheapie hotel room and a flight credit from switching from Santa Ana Airport to LAX. So, net-net, I was fine.

Well.

It was in fact too good to be true to be able to stay in G-town for $200.

Friends had offered their house, long before I even booked that hotel.

But I also knew MTV moron Sean Duffy was thinking about cutting flights and blaming it on Democrats.

So if for some reason I’d get stuck, I didn’t want it to be my friends’ problem.

Though that seems to be ideal actually. A nice place to stay while I wait, if I need to wait.

In any event, I tried every day for the past week to sell my tickets.

But the event organizer said haha fuck you.

I even asked Ticketmaster if there’s a way around it, as I’m feeling defeated.

They were super nice and said if the organizer is going to turn on resale, it will be Friday night.

If. Great.

I’ve sold tickets back to TM. At breakeven or a loss. I’m not fleecing people like I got fleeced for the Miami Eras Tour. Which … fuck yeah I’d have paid twice that.

Like I told the TM agent, I know there are other hotels and even flights if mine get changed.

Shit, I even know this is the least cruel thing that flatulent fascist has done in his life.

But I’m just not excited anymore to see an artist I haven’t seen live since 1998.

So right now I’m doing all the pros and cons to going.

Pros — cat sitter has already been paid, flight paid, ticket paid, city I love, friends I love, chance of seeing a holiday market, proximity to Levain and Georgetown Cupcake and that place with the killer cinnamon macarons.

Cons — No hotel. Flight delay risks. So motherfucking behind at work and I cannot stand hearing from that treadmill lady every MF day of my MF life. Meetings I’ll have to take from the airport. Not being there for Crooked Con (it’s over) or the holiday market I REALLY loved (starts next week). Also, I really just wanna go to Disney for a day. Finally, every time I travel, some fucked-up dipshit tries to contact me and ruin my trips. I won’t let him ruin any more of my time. But I know his bitch ass is lurking.

Well that settled nothing.

I mean, there are worse things than going on another vacation where someone is bugging me about doing work that doesn’t benefit the customer or the company.

I don’t know. I gave myself till today to decide, and I got nothin.