I'd like to thank my loving husband for all his support. . .

After receiving a text message from my husband today, I realized how much he's helped me with my transition into working full time. He merely texted about arranging some things that I thought I'd have to take care of when I got the chance. I got the text while at work, glanced at it, typed a quick reply and got back to work. And then on my break, I realized he's been such a blessing.

Every morning he walks our daughter to the end of the driveway to see her onto the bus so I can start my day on a positive note without enduring hostility and abuse from The Spider. He starts dinner nearly every night. He grocery shops on his days off. He looks over our daughter's homework and encourages her to help with dinner and housecleaning.

I'm very lucky, I realize. If I had to manage the bulk of those tasks along with working full time and facing off with The Spider, I'd probably be an emotional wreck right now.

Instead, I'm happy and enjoying my job, LOVING being productive and challenged at an honest-to-God-real-grown-up JOB.

I thanked him today and told him because of his help, I'm able to focus on my work and not fret about things at home.

I don't gush nearly enough about him, taking for granted how good I've got it. But I do so appreciate him.

Catching up . . . ?

Today is my day to work late and I was hoping to catch up on my blog reading this morning but my blogroll isn't showing up! Instead, I'll post about the latest with me. Forgive me, but I promise to catch up with my blog friends, leave comments and touch base.

My days are filled with . . . work. But, pleasantly so. I'm swiftly getting the hang of my job and have had very few minor bumps along the way. Some of my fellow trainees haven't been so fortunate and have dealt with some irate, unreasonable callers. Having worked in several call centers before, I know it's just a matter of time before I get that unreasonable, hostile caller who will attempt to rattle me. I feel lucky that I've been experiencing placid calls which allow me to learn, adapt and gain confidence. Confidence is one of the key virtues one must possess when attempting to de-escalate a bad call.

As for The Spider situation, there was a scene between the two of us last Friday morning which threw me off my game for a better part of the day. In order for me to maintain a positive start to my work day as well as my sanity, my husband has been waiting with our daughter for the bus at the end of the driveway each day.

The scene, when described in simple words, seems benign enough, but the hostility, tension and sarcasm were palpable and disconcerting. I'd been stewing over The Spider's angry email and, well, instead of ignoring her Friday morning, I set my face into a grim expression, looked her in the eyes as I walked to the end of our driveway with my daughter. She smiled this broad, fake, taunting smile (very difficult to describe, but it threatened to weaken my resolve.) Never smiling in return, I gave one short, abrupt wave to which she responded (her voice dripping with sarcasm,) "Oh, I like that, that was nice." And then she mimicked my wave. I turned away and the simmering began.

What is she, in high school now? She possesses such a mastery of passive-aggressiveness, with just a simple taunting smile and sharp, grating voice. I kept it together long enough to see my child on the bus and head to work. On the way, I had to call my husband and rant and vent, poor guy. And thus, it was decided I should avoid her whenever possible, to protect my emotional well-being.

I've struggled to write over the past few months. I knew I wanted to write about The Spider Situation without it being a libelous story with recognizable characters. Lying in bed one night, I was struck by an idea and thus began my grown-up fairy tale with life-lesson moral about a dung beetle and a caterpillar. I brought it to my writer's group and it left them doubled over with laughter. My friend Gail was the only one who knew the true events behind the story; the others just enjoyed it for the writing and the lesson it presented.

It was cathartic and there's growing hope that I'll once again become a prolific writer.

Balance. Or lack thereof.

At first the transition to full-time working mom didn't seem so bad. Maybe it was because my husband was on vacation and managed the household, made dinner, etc.

Now school has begun and I find myself deeply entrenched in a juggling act.

As you can see, this blog is one ball I've dropped.

I'm happy to be working, to be occupied, to be useful. Making money. However I sometimes feel as if I'm inches from failing at something. I suppose this is an issue for every working mom.

On the first day of school, I waited for the school bus with my daughter at the end of our driveway. Traditionally, The Spider and her family are in their driveway, as well, and friendly greetings are exchanged. This time I chose to be chilly and did not even look over at The Spider or acknowledge her. Later that day when I returned home from work, I discovered The Spider had sent me a hateful email lambasting me for my behavior. My friend Gail suggested I not respond. Gail is a pretty good judge of character (never liked The Spider) and explained that The Spider is seeking a response, any response, that will link us together again. Gail said The Spider is behaving like a jilted lover, disturbingly like Glenn Close in "Fatal Attraction." ("I won't be ignored!")

Last year, all those months I worked with The Spider, going to her house to write - those wrecked me. I grew depressed. I gained weight. I neglected housework. I woke up exhausted each morning and needed frequent naps. Since severing my relationship with her, I wake up rested, happy. I've lost weight and had to buy new clothes. I have energy to work full-time and take care of things. The email she sent - her remarks - I felt that darkness, that depression creeping back. She's so oppressive. I must stand my ground. My daughter wrote me a little note that said, "Just say NO!" She gets it.

Maintaining an even keel.

After I typed the post title, I wondered what that even meant? Somehow I knew it was a nautical phrase.

Anyway, this past week was to have been my third and final week of training at my new job. But then I was struck with bronchitis and unable to muster energy or stop coughing long enough to make it to work. I went to the doctor, was prescribed antibiotics, which I'm just finishing up. I've been fretting about being behind in training but spoke with my supervisor yesterday and she's already devised a one-on-one plan to help me catch up once I return to work.

Prior to getting sick, we had a wicked storm come through the metro. Wind, hail, non-stop lightning, thunder, rain. We lost three trees, our roof was damaged and hail cracked holes in our siding. The insurance adjusters totaled our roof (Yay, new roof!) and are attempting to locating matching siding for repairing it. If they can't match it, they'll total it (Yay, new siding!) and if that happens, my husband says we might as well replace the gutters, soffits, fascia and get all new windows while the siding is being replaced. (Yay, new windows!)

Our 1970 home is a mish-mash of colors and weathered materials. The wood trim around every window is painted a dark green which is peeling off. The roof is a nasty tan color. The siding is a cold grey "putty" which doesn't coordinate with the roof, the brick front or any other part of the home. There are raw wood posts in front that no one bothered to dress up with columns. So, when the insurance check is cut, I plan to select colors that sync well with each other. And finally having attractive, functioning windows - windows that open for easy cleaning or to let in breezes; windows with proper airtight seals!

My only lament is that we somehow didn't manage to get hail damage IN the house. Like on the medieval cabinets, the gold-fleck Formica counters or the yellowing linoleum floor. Darn it.

bronchitis

Bridge survivor.

I found out from an article in the Star Tribune that one of the survivors of the I-35W bridge collapse is a young actress who played Pippi Longstocking at The Children's Theatre Company last year. My Girl Scout troop saw the play and then my friend, my daughter and I went to see it again a few weeks later. The actress suffered some fractured vertebrae and will need physical therapy for a while, but should be able to act and dance and attend college. My daughter and I are sending her get-well cards. I drew this in my card:

Cat: Missing. Found.

We had a bad storm early this morning: wind, rain, non-stop lightning and thunder. My cat was out since last night and he hasn't come home. We've had him since 1995. He's twelve years old. I want my cat.*



*He came home. Furry brat.

Rejoining the rat race.

It's been quite a transition, returning to full-time work after over 7 years. I'm glad that I'd spent the previous two months working part-time at The Questionable Company to ease back into the swing of things. Otherwise my first days at my new job might have been a bit rougher.

On my first morning, I had to drive to downtown Minneapolis. For the first time ever. I've been downtown a handful of times. I'd just never driven there. And I had to add time to my estimated commute to factor in diverted traffic from the collapsed I-35W bridge. I ended up being an hour and a half early, so I spent that time sitting in a cushy chair, reading a book at a Starbucks.

Downtown culture is completely different than anything I'm accustomed to. Everyone dresses extra sharp. Pointy heels, sleek hair, suits and ties.

Thankfully, the facilities where I'll be working is "business casual" with "casual Fridays." Downtown, it's "business dress" and "business casual" on Fridays, if even that.

After my orientation, I drove to my work facility in a northern suburb and met my supervisor and enjoyed a pizza lunch with the other new employees. Then we began training. The next day we had training for half the day and then went to a nearby park for a company picnic! They closed shop for the rest of the day and we spent hours there, playing games, eating, winning raffle prizes. Everyone was given a free t-shirt to wear. In fact, I've received so many free things this week - a drink mug, a mouse pad, a pen, a magnet.

And the facilities where I work are so great. The cafeteria excites me the most mainly because I've never worked any place where I could just pop downstairs for lunch. So far my favorite thing in the cafeteria is the toast (and bagels.) You choose your type of bread (or bagel) yourself and pop it into this sort of mini-pizza oven conveyor device which TOASTS IT. And then you have a choice of flavored cream cheeses, regular butter, jelly or jam, peanut butter, flavored butters. My God, it's toast heaven!

And there are tons of choices for lunch or snacks as well.

The roughest part has been the drive. During my training, my hours are 8-4:30, so I am stuck in rush hour traffic. My regular hours begin at the end of the month and I'll have a later shift which will definitely quicken my commute.

I've also run into three people I used to work with seven years ago (same company, different department.) It's great to know someone - I feel like a family member returning to the fold instead of just a new trainee.

Not sure when I'll be able to post again. I'm usually beat by the time I get home from work.

Pictures from the kitchen.

The other evening my daughter was making herself a mocha shake. After she'd poured in some chocolate syrup, she noticed this little heart in the foam.


Today I made my first batch of jelly. EVER. This is jalapeño jelly. Although it was a nice green on its own, I confess, I did add a few drops of green food coloring. You are supposed to put this over cream cheese on crackers. We'll see how it tastes later.

Of Human Bonding

Everywhere I go - the supermarket, the gas station, the library - I overhear conversations between complete strangers. People are discussing the bridge collapse and how narrowly they or a loved one or a friend missed being on the bridge when it fell. I much prefer those brief moments of bonding to the media frenzy with news programs sending their top anchors to report directly from the tragedy, the fallen bridge serving as a dramatic backdrop for their reports.

This drawing, done by a fifteen-year-old boy named Will Bornhoft, demonstrates how something like this touches the human spirit.


Photographed by Jeff Wheeler for the Minneapolis Star Tribune.

Bridge over IN troubled waters.

I live about twenty minutes drive (non-rush hour) from downtown Minneapolis. I'd taken my parents to the Mall of America and crossed that bridge twice this week. My parents were going to drive that bridge this morning as they returned home to Kansas. I would have taken that bridge to downtown Minneapolis this Monday to attend orientation for my new job.

We're all quite shaken here.

Last night, as my mom and husband were picking up dinner, I decided to monitor the local weather because a storm system was moving into the area. Instead of weather reports, I was stunned to see video taken from a helicopter showing the collapsed I-35W bridge over the Mississippi. I began freaking out, yelling for my stepdad (watching TV in another room) to "TURN IT TO CHANNEL4! No, TURN IT TO CHANNEL 5!" I stood clutching the remote, staring at the TV and saying, "Oh my God oh my God," over and over. Much like I'd done on September 11. Now this tragedy in no way compares to 9/11, except the shock and disbelief and numbness. I had goosebumps all over as I watched the news. When my mom and husband arrived home, I met them at the door. They were grinning and laughing and I asked, "Were you listening to the radio? the I-35W bridge collapsed over the Mississippi!" They'd been listening to Jack FM which isn't really a local station. Then we all stood before the TV in shock, our dinner growing cold.

Not long after that, a thunderstorm hit and our power went out. We sat bathed in the warm glow of candle light, calming down a bit despite the chaos of those hours.

We're OK here. My parents left for Kansas this morning, taking a different route.

Hopefully we'll learn what happened to that bridge. Repairs will take a long time and my husband may even be involved, since he's a phone line repairman and phone lines are strung through piping on those bridges.

We're very sad for those who've lost loved ones. It's a very sad, tragic event. It could have been even more horrendous if it had happened only thirty minutes earlier, during the bulk of the rush hour.

Self portrait in vegetables.

Summer ruminations.

Even though it's not August yet and school doesn't start here until the day after Labor Day, it feels like summer is winding down. It doesn't help that because of drought conditions here, some trees are starting to turn already. Not to mention all the Back To School sales. Sheesh.

I have "Buy a new snow shovel" marked on August in my calendar. Because we need a new snow shovel. And you can't find a single snow shovel in the state of Minnesota during winter, we discovered last January.

I've been busy doing all the things I won't have much time for once I begin working full-time. As you can see from the photo in the previous post, the garden is starting to give back to me for all my hours of care and labor. Yesterday I snapped beans, chopped them into bite-sized bits, blanched them and put them in a freezer bag. I'll serve them for dinner while my parents are here so they can be suitably impressed at my green thumb. Well, I'd like to think they'll be impressed but they tend to be stingy with the praise.

My butternut squash plant has grown like crazy, starting to encroach my blueberry bush and, soon, the lawn. I'll need to try to train the vines in other directions. I don't even know what to do with butternut squash, really, other than seed it, bake it and then mash it with seasonings and butter or something. But I've started searching for recipes and hope to find a few things to make.

In preparation for my parents visit, I'm making these cinnamon rolls, which I've made before and are a big hit. The Pioneer Woman has some great recipes. I love her and wish she'd be my best friend but she has a kajillion friends already.

A tree guy is supposed to drop by today or tomorrow to give us a quote for cutting down the tree that lost its branch. We'll also need a quote for cutting down an even larger tree that has a split down the middle. I hate losing trees in our yard. I'll miss them.

Today's bounty

I picked these this morning:

Nature

Here's a shot of part of the oak tree branch (yes, BRANCH) that fell on the neighbors fence. You can see the bent fence in the background.

A yellow jacket. Ick.

First crop of Sugar Snack tomatoes from my garden. Nature's candy.

C R A S H.

Early this morning I heard the sound of wood cracking and splitting and then the crash of branches and leaves hitting the ground. It didn't sound horribly loud or like it hit anything important, so I rolled over and fell back to sleep.

My husband is outside now with a chainsaw, cutting up a HUGE branch which fell from our tree onto our neighbor's chain link fence. Earlier he went next door to see if they were home (Sue and Sue are the neighbors), and they weren't. He's cleaning up the mess and plans to fix the fence, as well. Fortunately it's his day off.

My mom finally texted me. She's turned into a wuss in her old age - she only lasted a week before breaking the silence.

Since my house is already clean from having a recent house guest, I invited her and my stepdad to visit before I start my new job. They'll be arriving Sunday. I'm taking my mom and daughter to the Mall of America and maybe, just maybe, she'll buy her grandkid some back-to-school things. You know, to make up for being such an ASS.

Tiny triumphs.

I definitely overreacted about the unexpected overnight guest, I know now. Papa didn't care that the house was cluttered and messy and he only stayed one night.

It's easy to entertain an eighty-two-year-old man. I just showed him my vegetable garden and then all of us spent most of the time on the deck, sitting and chatting. He was content to watch my husband play fetch with the dog or me seed jalapeños, stuff them with cream cheese and wrap them in bacon. We didn't have to take him anywhere and he fell asleep in an upright position on the sofa. A lot.

Friday I quit my job at The Questionable Company. Though I didn't give them two-weeks notice (because I need these two weeks off to get some things done), they were very nice about it and even asked that I come back if my new job doesn't work out. Best not to burn any bridges.

I also discovered that any nutritional supplements, including vitamins in the grocery store, are not FDA approved and contain the same disclaimer that The Questionable Company puts on all its products and ads. So it isn't right for me to judge their product based on the disclaimer. I still dislike the whole multi-level marketing method of distributing that they utilize, but my coworkers were nice and it was a pleasant environment, despite the possible fire code violations of the offices.

I've exchanged a few brief emails with The Spider about the critique group she's setting up and my new job. The silence is officially broken but I don't anticipate anything warmer or friendlier, which is fine with me. I'm happy now, with minimal contact.

Still haven't heard from my mom. It's been a week and one day. I try not to think about it because it irks me so. I feel she's behaving childishly and I wonder if there's only more to come of this from her?

And finally, I've written. My dry spell has come to an end. This morning I added two new pages to a novel-in-progress. It's nothing extraordinary, but it's something to work with, to build on. It's the first thing I've written since April.

The inlaws piss me off. Again.

A few weeks ago my mother-in-law let me know that her husband, Papa, (my husband's stepfather) would be in Minnesota. She told me Papa would give us a call so we could get together for dinner while he was here. The other day, Papa finally called and asked if my husband could come pick him up (he's at his daughter's house, an hour away) this Saturday. I said, sure. He said he'd call back with more details and the time, location, etc.

He calls back yesterday and only during the course of this conversation do I find out he intends to spend the night at our house. After I hung up, I was livid and began rampaging around the house, cleaning like a madwoman. You see, I hadn't expected any guests, let alone an extended visit. My house was a wreck! Toys and debris scattered about every room; a coating of dust on every surface; pots and pans in the sink; dirty floors; filthy bathroom, old shower curtain. I called my husband at work and told him his mother was a marked woman for not telling me Papa planned to STAY with us. And I wasn't even sure if it was just for one night or WHAT. And I wasn't sure where to put him - this isn't a big house. Our guest bed is fifteen years old, sagging, lumpy, uncomfortable. It isn't safe for an 80-something old man to sleep on. And I'd just gone grocery shopping but since I didn't know I'd have a house guest, I hadn't bought mild foods for his ultra-sensitive digestive tract.

I haven't been this furious - nearly punching walls - in a long, long time. Yes, I've been angry, I've been depressed and despondent at times, but this was sheer rage.

Don't get me wrong - I love Papa and because he's getting up there in years, it's important we spend time with him while we can. But I must be prepared. I must have an itinerary! My life has been chaotic, lately, with working, interviewing for another job, dealing with The Spider and my mom and giving my notice to The Questionable Company.

The sad part is, I wanted someone to vent to and my mom would have been my first choice but SHE'S NOT SPEAKING TO ME. So that made me even more angry!

My inlaws tend to do this sort of thing - not give all the pertinent details. I told my husband, "Next summer, we're just showing up in Florida (where they live) and we're going to call from the airport and say, 'Come pick us up!'" They owe us and they are going to pay.

The Spider Speaks. Kind of.

It just occurred to me that exactly two people have been simultaneously giving me the silent treatment. The Spider, who hasn't spoken to or emailed me since May 1, and my mother, who has ignored my emails and text messages since Sunday.

This is the price I pay for standing up for myself, for telling others how I want things to be. Evidently, people don't expect that from me and have always known me to bend to their will. They don't like it one bit.

I really feel at odds with their reactions. I've always been a people-pleaser, anxious not to hurt feelings and step on toes. As a result, my own toes have been crushed repeatedly. It's hard not to revert back to placating and apologizing!

Yesterday, The Spider broke her silence. But only because she wanted something from me. She offered no pleasantries; her email was brief and frosty. She's trying to form a critique group (since she got kicked out of ours) and wants me to give her the email address of a mutual acquaintance/writer. She also wanted to know if I'd participate in her group. I'd like to email her "There's no way in hell." Instead, I'm going to be as brief and frosty as she was, give her the email address and cite my busy schedule and new job as reasons I will not join her group.

The The Spider's silent treatment will probably resume.

As for my mom, I'm simply going to fight fire with fire. Or silence with silence. I promise, she'll break first.

I'm angry. So very angry.

Things were slow today at The Questionable Company, so I had a lot of time on my hands. Time to repeatedly check my cell phone to see if my mom had responded to a text message I'd sent TWO DAYS AGO. Then I sent her another one. Still no response. And she didn't respond to the email I sent on Sunday in which I gently explained to her how I heaped enough guilt on myself for going back to work and could she please not add to that guilt?

My email must have put a bee in her bonnet and if so, then I've got a hornet's nest in mine.

I have so many angry thoughts pinging around in my head, I can't decide where to start. First of all, this silent treatment of hers is not only childish, it's passive-aggressive. She used to pull this crap on me when I was a teen - she'd not speak to me if I'd done something that pissed her off. She'd be sweet to my brothers and totally ignore me. (For the record, she did this to any of us, not just me.) I couldn't stand to be shunned by my own mother, so she won. I ended up apologizing and begging forgiveness. And just like that, she'd be all better and start acknowledging me again.

Now I've already mentioned how absurdly unfair it is, being nagged and guilt-tripped when I've done the best I can do for my daughter, for my family and for my life. And meanwhile, she enables and rewards my brother's irresponsibility.

So she's pulling out her old trick, the big Silent Treatment. She's in for a surprise. I'm not sending her another text or email and I'm not calling her. And I guarantee, she's going to break the silence first. I have the best bargaining chip: her only grandchild. If she wants to know what's going on with her granddaughter, well, by God, she's going to f*cking stop this passive-aggressive bullsh*t and contact me.

I was on a slow simmer by the time I got home from work and the 90 degree temps didn't help. As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed numerous cars were parked in The Spider's driveway. She was having yet another pool party.

Last summer, she plied her way into my life on the hottest days, inviting me and my daughter over to her pool 3-4 times a week. You can imagine how wonderfully refreshing it is to soak in a sparkling cool swimming pool on hot days.

So, this summer, she's given an abundance of pool parties and it's almost as if she's going out of her way to flaunt it in my face. "Nyeah, nyeah, you're not invited into my pool.!" It's not the pool itself I care about. It's her whole attitude - how she used her pool as a way to lure me into a relationship to get something she wants from me. And this year, since she no longer "needs" me, she sees no need to invite me over to swim.

Not that I'd go. It's just the principle of the thing!

By the time my husband got home, I was pacing around, fuming, a thundercloud following me around. I told him that I was sick of women in my life who have attempted to emotionally manipulate me. My mom. The Spider. I asked my husband, "Have I ever tried to get what I want by being passive-aggressive or a manipulator? Am I like that?" He said no, definitely not.

Over ten years ago I briefly saw a therapist. During those visits, she seemed to be trying to make me place blame on my mother for some of my issues. I laugh now when I think how defensive I got, how I told her, "Don't you ask me about my mother - she did the best she could and I will not place any blame on her for how she raised me."

Welllll...how ridiculously naive and ignorant I was back then.

My general practitioner gave me the name of a therapist. I'm leaning towards making an appointment and you can bet the first words out of my mouth are going to be, "Let's talk about the crap my mom pulls on me."