Due to the hot office, I have a fan on my desk.
Every time I answer the phone, I'm so tempted to put my mouth up to the fan.
Cue robot-voice, "Good morning.
So, Kayden loves the Magic Tree House series. They are books all about two kids who visit different times and places and learn all about where they are. Totally nerdy, but whatever. Anyhow, these books are how he came to know of Titanic, China, vikings, the Amazon, and more. One of the books we read a few months ago was about Pompeii. We've read about four books since then.
Last night we were reading some little magazines about the new seven wonders of the world (yes, we really are that nerdy). He pointed at a picture of Machu Piccu. He asked if that was the city that was covered in ashes. I said no, it's Machu Piccu. He pointed at a mountain and said, "Oh, I thought that was Vesuvius." I couldn't even remember Pompeii's deadly volcano off the top of my head. I was so shocked that he did.
The dude constantly amazes me with what he knows and remembers.
In my intercultural communication class, the teacher is from China and many of the students are foreign.
The teacher pronounces purpose as poo-pus.
A kid from the Phillipines pronounced cultural as cooter-al.
These things and more make me giggle inside my head.
My friend, Colin, keeps asking me what's wrong. He emails me, asking why I'm so upset. I finally give in and reply:
Rather than have you think I’m blowing you off…I’ll let you in on the craziness. Where to begin…
Okay, for starters, I never should have gotten married. My husband is extremely depressed but has refused to get treatment. We’ve gone to a marriage counselor, but ended up fighting even more. Ultimately, Josh (my husband) refused to go anymore. It’s like living with an effing sixty-year-old man. A 60-year-old who won’t take an active role in either my or my son’s life. Why don’t I kick him out, you say? Because his little brother just died about a three months ago. His little brother who I just adored and was crushed by his death. But not as crushed as Josh. I think it would be just a tad cruel to kick the dude out so shortly after that. And until I can receive the Miss Manners reply to “How long after the death of a loved one is it polite to render a man homeless and heartbroken? Hmmm?” I’m shooting for six months to a year. But who knows?
Ohhhhh, did you think that was it? Not even close. For over a year now, I’ve been getting sick after every meal. Not in an eating disorder way…why, that’s too passé. I’ve seen doctors and specialists and have had to do really expensive procedures that I’m still paying for, just to be told that they can’t figure out what’s wrong. Sooooo…in the past couple months, I’ve lost most of my appetite. On average, I eat one small meal per day. When I do eat a full meal, I feel like vomiting afterward. While this may be great news for any physical problem areas on my body, I’m not particularly happy with this new development.
Moreover, I got put on probation at work. While I have been kicking ass on making sure the office runs efficiently in regards to computers, phones, office supplies, etc. I haven’t been refilling the printers and refrigerator promptly. Add to that the fact that I haven’t been taking lunch breaks (because I’d rather work through my lunch than listen to the admins complain about answering the phones for me), I have been put on a 30-day probation period with weekly check-ups. I now have to follow an extremely degrading schedule to ensure I’m stocking up on Diet Pepsi…lest we make the almighty brokers unhappy.
Now, why don’t I quit, you may ask? Because I’m about to start my next (and final) semester of school. This semester calls for three nights a week, of which I have to leave the office at 3:30. I don’t think a new job would appreciate that kind of schedule. Opus is aware of the fact that once I graduate, I will begin looking for jobs in my desired field of work (which is the main reason I was demoted to the front desk position…I’m not bitter about it, I swear). Throw in the fact that everyone treats me just slightly better than they would a fly they were about to squash, and it makes for a pretty shitty workday.
And while working as a receptionist seems like it would be a real money-maker, alas! It’s not. I have to work a part-time job as a cleaning lady for an office. This, combined with school and work and taking care of a six-year-old, has all but worn me out. While my husband is more than qualified to work at a job that would allow for me to quit my second job, he won’t leave his current job which only pays him in pesos (okay, not really…but it seems like it).
Shall I go on? Family issues! My mom is an insane meth addict (yes, really) who calls me constantly, asking for money and cigarettes. Ah, but everyone has family troubles, yes? I also have two little brothers (ages 4 and 6) who were put into foster care, then placed in the home of their abusive father (my latest stepfather). This should be a happy ending, but no. Dear stepfather has since taken the children and run away. We can’t find him and have no idea where my little brothers are or how they’re doing. And just in case the above revelations didn’t clue you into the fact that my family is completely messed up, my little brothers both have Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, and are in need of extensive therapy (which I’m certain they are not receiving). All these issues keep me up at night, stressing my little guts out, wondering if I should have adopted them when I had the chance.
Well, I guess that’s enough for now. Probably much more than you wanted to ever hear or know about me. That’s your punishment for being nice enough to inquire as to what’s bothering me.
You need to think what's best for your son and remember that how he sees you treated is how he'll treat his girlfriend/wife.
Call me if you need to vent.... but don't ever vent before noon, I work nights ya know....
I'm on the computer right now just to spite Josh. Normally he grabs it first thing and won't leave all night. Instead, I called dibs the first chance I got and now I'm just goofing off. Neener neener.
So, my dad, stepmom, and stepsister are in town now. They just barely left to go to their hotel room. We're going to have so much fun. Kayden wouldn't let go of my dad. They're seriously best buds. So cute.
I'm a total sentimental nutjob when it comes to childhood mementos like art pieces and such. I've saved all of K's art since he first started making it. As a result--and especially since starting Kindergarten--I have about five binders jammed with art. It's damn near impossible to look through and find room for all of it.
Here's my idea: we have a good color scanner at my office. My idea is to scan in the art from his kindergarten year and turn them into digital photos. Then, I will have him briefly explain what each picture is of ('cause sometimes you can't be too sure). I would then create a MyPublisher photo book (which I've had plenty of experience with) with all of his art in there. I could likely fit all of the drawings into a single book that would be complete with descriptions, because many of the drawings would be reduced in size. Maybe four drawings per page or something.
I think it would be more accessible and longer-lasting and easier to store. I would still keep the originals of SOME pictures, but not all.
So, with Utahans, there are many similar words that are pronounced the same. For example, mail, male, and mell are all said the same. Fill, feel and fail, fell. Each is pronounced the same as its partner.
Anyhow, when the newscasters said Baby Jessica had fallen into a well (pronounced wehll), I thought she had fallen into a whale (also pronounced in Utah as wehll).
Until I was about 10-ish, this was what I thought. I figured a whale had swum under the ground somehow and she fell into its blowhole.
I have to say, I'm fed up with the tanning trend. I'm a naturally pale person (my dad's a redhead). I'm okay with having blindingly white skin. However, I always feel like I'm being judged or criticized if I wear a skirt in public without having tan legs.
It is for this reason that I had Josh spray-tan my legs last night. I bought a pair of dress shorts (yes, you heard that correctly...me who hasn't worn shorts since 1995) and wanted to wear them today. I am a catastrophe with fake tanners, so I had him assist me. This morning, I awoke to big blotches of orange. As a result, I'm wearing jeans.
SO! From this point forward, I will throw away all fake tanners. I will make a vow to never step inside a tanning salon. If I happen to catch a tan (or more likely, a burn) from being in the sun, fine. But I'm no longer making the effort to fit into this ideal that women should tan to be beautiful.
::puts blotchy-orange foot down::
Even in the best of relationships, the attention of an outsider can put that thought of infidelity into the mind. However fleeting, it makes a person realize they are still desirable to the outside world. They wonder if they could find someone better than the one they're with.
I sit down at the computer, open the internet browser, and check my email. Resting between advertisements promising me a larger penis and inspirational messages forwarded many times over from a friend is an email with the subject line:
I hope you remember me.
I click on it.
To: Kelli Petersen
From: Pedro the Fire Lord
Re: I hope you remember me
Kelli, I know it's been a while since we spoke and I'm sure you don't remember me anymore. I showed up late for our date and you were nice enough to still have coffee with me. You complimented my hair and I thought you were an amazing woman. I just wanted to catch up and see how you are doing. Please write me back if you remember me.
Wow, that's a blast from the past, I think. We had met as a bookseller and customer a few years back, went out on a date, emailed for a time, then lost contact. I re-read the email while thinking of Peter. He was very handsome: delicated facial features and blond hair that fell to the middle of his back. He was almost feminine but for the evident muscles earned by working as a rancher's assistant. I might have dated him longer if I hadn't been interested in Josh at the time.
Over the next few days, I think more and more of Pedro. I know it never would have worked out. He was wild then and likely now. We exchange flirtatious emails that border on inappropriate. I tell him of my life, where I work, how Kayden is doing, how I miss him. He tells me of his new career path and dreams. And most importantly, he tells me of how he remembers my intelligence, my sweet nature, and my beauty. I worry that if he saw me now, I wouldn't be as attractive. I finally tell him I'm married and that I wish I didn't have to tell him that. I tell him of how I think about what could have happened between us. I do not hear from him for days. Finally, he replies that he hopes my husband appreciates me and he would like to get together for coffee as friends. I delete his email without replying.
I think of how I could actually cheat on Josh. This is a completely new idea to me. I've always been adamant in my beliefs that cheaters are all selfish and whorish. But here I am. Consciously avoiding a man who could lead me to cheat on my husband.