where I'm calling from

Since last week I have been plagued with what SabrinaBot calls "The Mean Reds." To me, this can mean any sort of overwhelming emotion that, if unfettered, just leaves me as generally "Not Nice to Have Around." In this case, I did a lot of self-flaggelation (not literally, thank you very much), and soul searching. And while there are two things I will try very hard to never post about on this blog, sometimes I have to, just for context.

These are the two things I don't usually post about:

1. My job in any incriminating, unjust, or exposing way. I'd like to sum it up that I like my job, adore my co-workers, find my industry interesting enough, and am satisfactorily compensated. Done and done on that topic.

2. Any strife or discomfort in my personal, romantic relationship. Because really, if you boil it down, I have never been happier, more physically and emotionally satisfied or totally twitterpated in my life. Moonie gah-gah and all that rot.

When things crop up in either arena, I mindfully tiptoe around them in my not-so-secret blog journal because I know all things will iron out, in the end. They always do.

So for the last week or so, "My Mean Reds" have really been unusual. I mean, I just got a bonus at work, had praised heaped upon me by my newest VP, fall in love over and over again every time my guy walks in the door, and am about to embark on a great Mardi Gras vacation. What could possibly be the problem?

The problem is that I let the behavior of other people affect me because I am sensitive. Behavior over which I have 0% control. And because I have such thin skin, people fuck with me. They may not do it intentionally, or hell, they may do it because they know they can, but the point is, I take things harder because I assume the slings and arrows are carefully aimed. I would not waste my own time on mindless slights; if I did them at all, I would certainly MEAN them.

Point is this: Someone was slinging arrows, and I wasn't sure they were meant for me, so I got right up in the front of the line and took them to the chest voluntarily. These arrows fall in the area of Item #2 that is not discussed on the blog.

Were the arrows meant for me? Probably not. Was I hurt? My finger was nicked, but my arm wasn't severed. Will it ruin my happiness? Hell no.

I'm sorry, but I laugh every day now. I wake up with joy. I pull Jim close to me in the morning and deeply breathe in his scent, and I remember what pleasure it brings to be good to another human. To be fulfilled in his presence. I understand that I am. That he is. That we are. And that we will be.

And that's all I need. Oh, and a funny little Band-Aid.

Sadness can be simple. It can be the unadulterated sadness I felt when I'd saved my change all week to buy a Big Gulp, and when I tried to artfully balance it in one hand while wobbling my bike down a city street, I dropped it. And my brother laughed at me because I couldn't ride a bike well and there were no do-overs or refills.

There's the elementary sadness I felt when I went to take care of my grandmother while she was at home, dying of incurable, horrible cancer and she screamed out for me in the middle of the night. Because her Chihuahua was having a grand mal seizure on the bed next to her. And I couldn't help the dog. And I couldn't save my Grandma, and though I calmed the dog a little and  tucked Grandma back into bed, she died six days later anyway.

There's the simple sadness I feel when I look at old photos of my uncle who surreptiously drank himself to death. Or when I remember my first cat that I adopted when the mean neighbor abandoned her, and how I had to drive through a blizzard to the vet, and held my hand on her heart as she was put to sleep in front of me.

Those sadnesses are uncomplicated, young, piercing and make sense. I can cry them out. Sometimes I still do. Everything from being mocked for being a hunchback in junior high to losing people that I love. All those pains make easy sense.

Complicated sadness is harder. And lately, I have been crashing into a wall of sadness that I cannot fully understand. I have theories about wounded self-esteem, lack of Vitamin D, inactivity, manipulation, misguided reverence, chronic illness, ungrounded suspicion and hopelessness.

The doleful manifestations of my complicated sadness are embarrassing. So I am going to write about them because then I will be able to see myself from the outside. I can see what I look like when I am like this.

Yesterday, the complicated sadness was like a swallowed poisonous growth, and when I got home from an interrupted breakfast, I did what I knew would fuel the feelings. But I did it anyway.

I peeled off my clothes, stripped down naked and crawled into my shower. I left the fan off, ran the water hot, washed my face and body fully. I stood there for a while and let the water pour over me, then I turned the water as hot as it would go and sat on the floor of the shower. And I cried.

The steam helped me to breathe through my snotty nose, and when my nose ran onto my chest, the water washed it away down the drain. Along with my eye makeup and my tears.

I felt sorry for myself, that I was not #1, that I didn't feel lovely or important or special. That I was sick all the time, might even die young or not finish what I want to do. Old. Failure. Scarred. I let that growth turn into a jealous tumor and I sobbed it out in my shower. After a long time, when the humidity in my bathroom was approaching 80% and the hot water was running low, I pulled myself up, toweled off, and crawled into bed.

Sometimes sadness can be more complicated than just spilling a Big Gulp and having your older brother laugh at you. Sometimes it can't easily be understood at all.

This weekend I cashed in some dumb luck and a few dollars from my savings account to FINALLY buy a flat screen LG LCD 1080p TV. If you remember, this TV was made of Unobtainium up until about two days ago. Part of that was due to cost: I thought I would need to put at least seven bills down. The other half was attributed to the large CRT housed in my little house. I needed an 'escape plan' for the old TV, one that was both environmentally sound and physically feasible. You see, I couldn't lift that old TV.

Jim and I visited Video Only on Friday and I was seduced by Salesman Al to examine a 32" beauty by LG priced to walk out the door at $399. When I blushed, he dropped the price to $379. I still didn't budge and we left so I could sleep on it. It wasn't so much the cost, but more the conundrum of WHAT to do with the Brontosaurus TV I had back home.

Saturday dawned auspiciously, so Jim and I returned to pay Salesman Al a visit. Would he honor his $379 price? He sure would, so I slapped down my Visa and walked out the door with my first real entertainment purchase in nearly 10 years.

Jim was a life saver in helping to transport the new TV to my house, and because he geeks out on that stuff, he jumped to set it up for me as well. While I don't quite have all the right cables yet, I am close, and everything works rather wonderfully.

I disabled  the dinosaur and Jim lifted it off to the side. I added my VCR to the Discard Pile as I honestly can't remember the last time I watched a tape and decided to fully move into 2010 unburdened by antiquated technology. I phoned the local Goodwill to ensure they would a) take working TV donations and b) would take one of my extraordinary magnitude.  Check and check.

We woke this morning, dined on waffles and yogurt, milk and bacon, then Jim single-handedly lifted the behemoth TV and took it to his SUV. We zipped down to the local donation center and made our deposit. Jim had to head home as he was hosting a Championship Football Sunday day at his house for all his guy pals so I kissed him goodbye and headed home to my new entertainment den.

When I got home, I realized that now that I have an HDTV, I could likely get some HD channels over the air. I rummaged around in the back closet and came up with some old RadioShack rabbit ears and plugged them into the new TV. While auto tuning didn't bring in a ton of channels, it did find Fox 13 -- the one station showing The Saints vs. The Vikings game today at 3.30 pm. Hallelujah.

In just a few short weeks, Jim and I will travel to NoLa to see some of my oldest pals: The Walkers, and  try our hands at the Mardi Gras thing. What could be cooler than to roll into USA's largest party town only four days after a Home Town Team Super Bowl victory? Nothing.

With high hopes, a glass of local red wine, and some KICK ASS TV reception I set up camp to watch the game solo. And now that it is over (yes, I am ALSO in the future), we know that THE SAINTS CAME MARCHING IN. It was close, it was tense, it hurt me like no one's business to see Brett Favre tossed around like a sock monkey doll, but in the end, The Saints persevered. The kick was good and sweet, all errors were forgiven, and I am SURE Bourbon Street erupted in cheers and fanfare.

We have two weeks until the next major American Holiday: The Super Bowl. Jim and I have discussed having a few people over to his place. So far on the menu we have decadent traditional cheese fondue and Pernod Absinthe (served with a real absinthe fountain, thanks to some special Christmas shopping on my part). It may be the snottiest Super Bowl menu I have ever encountered, but is imbued with a certain panache mandatory for a celebration worthy of The Big Easy.

Oh yes, I want to be in that number, when The Saints go marching in...

8:01 a.m., dung drops — A man reported that someone has been leaving “presents” of cow excrement at the 300 block of South Washington Street. The dung has come in a pizza box, in a doughnut box and on a Christmas wreath.

11:29 a.m., Arnold — A missing lawn chair was discovered in a tree house on the 2000 block of Baywood View.

12:13 p.m., animal complaint — A black and brown dog was reported to be interfering with a soccer game at Sonora High School. The owners picked the dog up and left before an officer arrived.

1:59 p.m., Standard area — A man turned in a bone he found on the side of Tuolumne Road, which he thought was a thumb bone, to the fire station on Striker Court. Fire officials turned the bone over to the coroner, who will determine whether it belongs to a human or animal.

3:34 p.m., Twain Harte — A woman on the 23300 block of Middle Camp Road reported harassing phone calls from someone claiming to be from the U.S .Census Bureau. It actually was the U.S. Census Bureau.

3:38 p.m., Sonora area — A woman in pajamas was trying to direct traffic on Tuolumne Road near The Junction shopping center.

3:42 p.m., mistaken identity — A man on Sonora Avenue said three unfamiliar people arrived and threatened to hurt him. It turns out the three people had mistaken him for someone else they actually wanted to beat up.

4:44 p.m., oddness — A woman requested a ride to the cemetery so she could be buried on the 300 block of South Washington. The same woman then locked herself in the bathroom of another address on South Washington and refused to come out.

5:08 p.m., Tuolumne — A person advised the Sheriff's Office of a skunk exhibiting strange behavior on the 18400 block of Oak Street.

8:17 p.m., Dorrington — A group of people entered an establishment on the 3400 block of Highway 4, ordered shots of alcohol, downed them and left without paying.

9:11 p.m., Soulsbyville area — A man reported a suspicious vehicle on the 20900 block of Longeway Road. A pat search of the occupant of the vehicle revealed brass knuckles.

And this week's winner?

8:30 p.m., Columbia — A man reported he was harassed via witchcraft on the 22600 block of Broadway Street. He was advised that the Sheriff's Office doesn't generally handle witchcraft calls, he said he would contact military intelligence when in Washington, D.C.

Lately I have been feeling antsy. It might be the unusually warm weather we are having in Seattle (60 degrees in January in Seattle??). It might be the reintroduction of coffee into my morning routine (zing pow!). And it might just be me gearing up for a change. No matter what, I find myself pacing around the house a lot, and I don't care for it.  I end up going to bed early, sleeping poorly, and dragging myself through the same rigamarole the following day.

Yesterday I decided to try a different approach. Instead of a lazy evening with Netflix, I went home and worked out to a cardio blast routine. Then I met up with T2 for a rousing game of Scrabble and some red wine. T2 is very good at Scrabble, as you can see. We played Super Scrabble and she beat me, scoring 600+ points. Due to my competitive nature, I accepted her Scrabble Gauntlet challenge when she threw down for a rematch. Oh yes, I plan to bring my A+B+C game next time.

Yesterday I also decided I'd had enough of my wispy, thin, lank hair. It was pulling my face down and even though I love long hair, I can't stand it when women sacrifice quality for quantity. I didn't want to be "That Scraggly Ragamuffin." I took a bold move and went to my local Aveda salon and said, "Trim off as much as is needed to make my hair look fuller." Well, I was a little surprised that 'trim' resulted in me losing about 6 inches of length. I came out with a medium bob hairstyle, somewhat in a '60s style.

It will take some getting used to and Jim, like most men, prefers long hair. However, when I was getting ready for work this morning in my little pleated skirt and sassy brown Holly Golightly trench coat, I decided I liked my little flipped out French Spy look. My hair is soft and light and moves well in the wind. Perfect for spring, whenever it gets here.

Lastly, when I went in for a routine physical last December, my doc informed me that I was very vitamin D deficient. Being that I live in the Great Dark North, I've started to take 2000 IU every day. I am now reading that proper Vitamin D levels can help with everything from diabetes to cancer to depression to weight loss. I'll take all of the above benefits, please. Now I take my little fatty pill every morning with a cup of milk. Let's see if Vitamin D puts an end to the Fidgets and the Wiggles in my life.