Angry doesn't even cover it.

Apparently, I have an inherent desire to bring misery and despair upon myself whenever possible. This is going to be long, so get some bourbon and a taco and settle in.

I come from a very large, very blended family. I have 2 biological brothers, 3 step-brothers, 2 sisters-in-law, 2 step-sisters-in-law, 1 step-brother-in-law. 1 dad, 1 mom, 2 fathers-in-law, 2 mothers-in-law. 11 nieces and nephews, 2 god-daughters. An amazing best friend, whose mother is like a mother to me. 12 aunts and uncles, 30+ cousins. You get the picture. We believe in supporting one another, especially in times of trial or tribulation.

Jimmy comes from the exact opposite. He's an only child with 3 step-siblings (my aforementioned step sibs-in-law). He has 1 uncle/aunt and 2 cousins, 3 second cousins. And his MeMaw. They are not close-knit, and there's a lot of arguing and animosity. He's 15+ years older than his step-sibs, so he didn't grow up with them and doesn't have that sibling relationship.

Jimmy and I have been together for 8 years now, and during that 8 years, I have watched as his dad & stepmom have treated him like the red-headed stepchild of the family. They drag up all of his past indiscretions (he's almost 45, yo, he partied in the '80's...the decade of bad decisions) and throw them in his face whenever they feel like. Today was the LAST STRAW. I sent an angry, angry, angry email, but we'll get to that later.

Let's start this in August 2009. Jimmy had to have an emergency double bypass, and was off work (unpaid) for 12 weeks. During that time, we obviously fell into some serious financial trouble. My parents each helped out tremendously, as much as they were able. Without a single question or word of guilt. Because, you know, that's what family does. At least in my family.

So Jimmy went back to work and we got back on track. Until about April of this year. Then he started having problems with his back. At first, we thought it was his kidneys, but no. It took 2 months of different doctors to find out that his problem was with his back, not his kidneys. He went on medical leave AGAIN beginning June 3rd. He got approved for his back surgery and had that procedure on Sept. 16th. Smashing success, and he went back to work on October 18th.

November 8th, he gets fired. For a variety of reasons, which I cannot post here due to legal constraints at this time, I feel that he was targeted due to his medical leave. And we all know that this is a very bad time to be unemployed. Combine the shitty job market with the fact that Unemployment is still fucking around and haven't approved his claim as yet, and we are totally broke. Because Momma doesn't make a whole lot of money.

We are stressed to the limit here, man. Class A, Code Red, Level One Xanax Emergency stressed out. He's frustrated about no job and no money, I'm frustrated about no money, the tension level is totally out of whack. So he called his mom to see if she could help. Let me say here that his mom is LOADED. She & her husband live in a gated community in South Florida, they travel 75% of the time, just for fun. They are not hurting for money in any way. His mom says "Sure, son. How about, instead of sending you material gifts for Christmas, I just send you the money I was going to spend instead?" Perfect. That will make a huge difference. She says she'll send it out this weekend.

She then proceeded to call Jimmy's dad and tell him that Jimmy called asking for financial help. I guess to see why his dad wasn't helping. His dad then calls Jimmy and completely loses it on him. Basically tells him he's a lazy piece of shit because he hasn't found a job yet (it's been 5 weeks, and his dad was on UE for well over a year, so FUCK YOU VERY MUCH, SIR) and needs to get his head out of his ass. Basically says that Jimmy is lucky that I'm still sticking around and that I can do better, and Jimmy deserves it if I leave him.

EXCUSE ME??? This was the last straw for me. How dare he call my husband, HIS ONLY SON, and lose it on him like that? When he was unemployed himself for over a year!!

So. I sent an angry, angry email and basically cut my ties with them. I have watched his dad & stepmom treat him like shit for 8 fucking years, yo. 8 YEARS. I've sat back and taken it all this time, but today? No, sir. I refuse to allow them to treat my husband like he's a piece of shit stuck to their shoes. His step-sibs, it's like they can do no wrong. His step-brother had a hit-n-run DWI accident a few years ago, and they paid amost $25K to get it taken off his record. HIT N RUN DWI, PEOPLE. TWENTY FIVE GRAND. We're asking for a piddly $500.

They check up on us on the internet on this thing called Missouri Case Net. Because we've both got a couple of financial issues on there (we have both been sued by creditors due to inability to pay bills other than rent/utils). They blab our personal financial issues to the rest of the family during family dinners. They constantly bring up shit from like 10 years ago and throw it in Jimmy's face. And I've had enough. Especially after I learned tonight that when they misplaced their expensive jewels after a trip to the Bahamas earlier in the year, they contacted the cops because they thought someone got into their house and stole them, AND THEY TOLD THE COPS TO CHECK OUT ME & JIMMY BECAUSE WE ARE FINANCIALLY UNSTABLE AND MIGHT HAVE STOLEN THEM TO HOCK THEM FOR THE MONEY. WHAT THE FUCK.

So tonight...I cut ties. I sent a very well-thought out, well written email laying out all of the issues I have with them and their treatment of Jimmy and me. I told them I will no longer be coming to family events and wish to have no further contact with them. I'll go to Christmas at MeMaw's next weekend, because MeMaw loves Jimmy and me, and she's got nothing to do with this. But I will no longer subject myself to their bullshit.

Fast forward to 7pm tonight, when I finally got home from work. Jimmy's on the phone with his dad & stepmom, both of whom are pissed at me for having the audacity to call them on their bullshit and double standards (because step-mom's kids shit puppies and fart rainbows, don't you know). Then they start claiming "Oh we weren't conscious of the fact that we treat you differently than the others." Yeah...because you've been doing it FOREVER.

I absolutely abhor having discord within the family. I hate that it has come to this. I told Jimmy that if he wishes to still have a relationship with them, since it is his dad & stepmom, that's on him. But I choose to remove myself from their world. I refuse to sit by and let someone kick me and my husband when we're down. I don't deserve it, and I won't stand for it.

On the downslope

By on the downslope, I mean many things...on the downslope of summer into fall. I just spent MORE THAN 10 MINUTES outside and didn't break a sweat. Of course, I spent that time sitting on the stoop with my downstairs neighbor, drinking beer and smoking a cigarette. But still...there was no sweat. And that in itself is saying something.

On the downslope of our time in this big, spacious apartment. We're moving in 6 days, to a much smaller 1BR unit on the ground floor. My husband is afraid it's the unit in which someone committed suicide last year, and is therefore sufficiently skeeved out by the entire prospect.

In the chaos of cleaning/sorting/packing, I have realized that I have irrational attachments to certain items. I am 33 years old, and I still have my stuffed Christmas moose from 1989. Mooseltoe is 21. I'm finding myself talking about Mooseltoe more and more lately, and I'm not sure why that is. I think because he is representative of my last Christmas with my Grandma Harriette, who died shortly after I turned 13. I feel like I didn't really get to know her. I wonder what our relationship would be like now that I'm an adult. Same with my Grandpa Earl. I have heard so many stories about them both, and I kind of feel like I got cheated on the grandparent thing. Harriette and Earl were my dad's parents. They were both much older than my mom's parents. They had both been married before they met each other (very taboo in the 40's). Therefore, they died when I was pretty young. 13 when Grandma died, 16 when Grandpa died.

This is going to sound absolutely terrible, and I'm halfway ashamed that I think it, much less am about to write about it. I wish it had been the other way around, with my grandparents. My mom's parents...meh. My Grandma PeeWee was a very difficult woman. Very self-centered, very vain, very much about keeping up appearances. She could be extremely cruel, and often was. You can imagine my surprise when she passed away 2 years ago and I heard so many wonderful things about her. Turns out she was a wonderful woman, as long as you weren't related to her. My Grandpa Amos is....oy. He's 86, bigoted, racist, hateful, and is on the slow, ugly road that is Alzheimer's. He's a pathological liar, and a thief. He is not welcome in many of our homes because of this. He stole a huge pickle jar full of quarters from my mom. He was attempting to steal my Uncle Tom's partner's credit card and bank account information the last time he took a trip to Alabama. He stole my cousin's car. And it's not shit that just started happening when he got sick. It's been going on. He has no concept whatsoever of what is good and decent and honest. He just does what he wants and doesn't give two shits about the consequences. It pisses me off, and so I just don't spend time with him.

Wow. I feel better having gotten that out. I could continue on with my little Festivus Airing of Grievances right now, but I shall digress.

I'm looking forward to the move. It means we'll actually be able to get back on track with finances, get some bills paid, get ahead of the game a wee bit. It's still going to take some time. Jimmy's surgery is Sept. 9th, and he'll have about 8 weeks before he can go back to work. I'm looking forward to this surgery, too. 80% chance it will work, and he'll be fixed. For a while.

I'm also looking forward to just a fresh start in general. We've come to really resent all of our neighbors except Terry, with whom I was drinking beers earlier. He's a nice guy, he's helped me out considerably with some stuff in the apartment that I couldn't move on my own, and I've repaid him with delicious foodstuffs.

So I guess really, the downslope is also an upslope. Onward and upward and all that. Plus, I'll be closer to the apartment of the little old lady whose horse, I mean dog, I walk. She's about 185 yrs old, roughly, and she's Russian and barely speaks English. Her dog is a St. Bernard, and he weighs 1 lb for every year that Mrs. Vishnevetskya is old. Fortunately, her son has taught me some words..."I'm here to take Barney on his walk." "Thank you for the borscht, it was delicious." "Of course I would like a vodka."

I think I just abruptly ran out of words to say again here. Someday, I'm going to tell a proper story or something.

Because I feel l like must write something.

Two questions were posed to me recently. One by my mother, who I'm pretty sure was being sarcastic, but since she asked me via email, I couldn't be sure. The other by a comedian whose name escapes me right now. He was on Comedy Central the other night. Jeff Dye. Jason Dye. Something Dye.

Question from my mother: There are Orthodox Jews and there are the hardcore Hassidic Jews. Does that mean that Catholics are just Un-Orthodox Jews?

Good question. I'm not a theologian, but I know one, and I'm going to ask her. I just hope she doesn't un-friend me after the fact.

Question by the comedian: How come when a chick sleeps with like eleventy billion guys, she's called slutty, or a whore, but when a guy does it, he's a homosexual?

Here comes the uber-abrupt ending because I don't know what else to say.

Spontaneous Combustion

Spontaneous combustion is defined as is a type of combustion which occurs without an external ignition source. It is usually a slow process that can take several hours of decomposition/oxidation with heat build up to a point of ignition.

Unless, of course, you happen to live in St. Louis, MO. At the confluence of two major rivers. With like eleventy bajillion percent humidity. And yes, I stole that number from someone else, and yes, it's a valid unit of measurement for anything.

Then, spontaneous combustion happens the second you walk out the front door of your office in the afternoon, on a nice Tuesday afternoon in early August. When the air temperature is 102 and the heat index is 117, a human being can actually burst into flame immediately.

And I don't have anything else to write about because I'm currently recovering from my own case of spontaneous human combustion.

Oh, the weekend

This was the weekend from hell. It all started on Friday, after I got home from work. I had arranged to return one of our cats to the rescue where we got her. For a variety of reasons. She's kind of mean, very destructive, moderately aggressive toward our other cats, and completely hateful to me. But she and my husband, they're super tight. We're moving at the beginning of September, into a much smaller, 1 BR apartment. I felt like it was going to be say too cramped to have all 3 of them in this new, tiny place. Plus, ya know, she's mean. Her name is Jezebel. It fits.

My husband cried the the whole way to the vet's office where we dropped her off. I felt like a complete asshole. End of the day.

I woke up Saturday morning with some pretty heavy spotting, and wicked awful cramps. Just had my period 3 weeks ago, and I'm only supposed to have 4 per year, so I was way early. The heaviness increased during the day, and Sunday morning I passed some huge clots and some stringy material. Cramps like you wouldn't believe. I'm assuming the worst. But I didn't go to the hospital right away. Figured if I was miscarrying, there wasn't anything I could do to stop it. So I finished making my pasta sauce, and then we went.

I got the news I expected. I also learned that I should not get my birth control filled at Walgreens. Apparently, they use one specific generic for my brand of birth control, and it is bad news. I've learned this the hard way. My gyno said I'm like her 20th patient who has had this problem. Nice, right? I mean, that really makes you feel awesome. Like, if they know this is a recurring issue, why wouldn't you advise any patient that you prescribe this certain drug to, to get it filled at like Walmart or Target, or grocery store pharmacy? Because apparently Walmart and Target pharmacies use a different generic, one that doesn't completely fuck you up.

And during this entire time, my husband is moping around, whining about how much he misses his cat. Right. Bitching about missing his cat, while I'm going through some pretty miserable stuff.

And guess what? He also got together via email with the lady who runs the rescue, and got his cat back.

So you can kind of see where I'm kind of thinking that this past weekend was super suckfest.

First post!

So...my first post. How terribly exciting for you all. I suppose that what I'm supposed to do here is write about myself, so you all can see just what happiness and light you're about to be exposed to, lol.

Well, I'm 33. I'm married to the best dude ever, Jimbob. He's 44. We've been married for 3 years, but have been together for about 7 1/2 years. We've known each other for...sheesh...forever. We met whilst working together on the ramp for TWA at Lambert Airport in St. Louis. Life for me has not been the same since I worked at the airport.

I grew up in a podunk little town in Illinois called Wood River. It's claim to fame is that Lewis & Clark stopped there, with Sacagawea (which I know I did not spell correctly, don't go all spelling police on me). It's other claim to fame is that it's home to not one...not two...not even three...but four oil refineries. Let me tell you, there is just nothin in the world quite like the smell of the quad city area (Wood River, Roxana, South Roxana, Hartford) after a rainy day, when the pollution from the refineries just lingers in the air because it's so humid. It's kind of sad that I'm being 100% truthful when I say "I know I'm home when I smell the rotten egg-goose shit air".

I have 2 little brothers, Thing 1 and Thing 2. Thing 1 just turned 29, Thing 2 will be 28 in November. They are both married, to wonderful chicks who have provided me with some most excellent nieces and nephews. Thing 1 has a 3 1/2 yr old, and 4 1/2-month old twins. Thing 2 has an 8 yr old stepdaughter, and a 1 1/2 yr old son. I love my bubbies...they make me happy.

Ummm..what else. Oh, we have 2 cats. We did have 3 cats, until about 4:45 this afternoon, and we are now back to 2. We're moving to a new apartment in September. Jimbob is out of work on major medical leave, no idea if/when he might go back. We go to see his cardiologist on 8/12 to get him cleared for surgery, then we go back to the neurosurgeon on 8/13 for surgical consult and to get him scheduled. He has a condition called sacrolumbar spinal stenosis, which is a degenerative disease. We'll talk more about that later.

So far, in the almost 8 years we've been together, we've been through 3 heart attacks (all his), 3 cardiac catheters to place stents in his heart, and an emergency double bypass. We've also gone through extracorporeal lithotripsy for massive kidney stones. And now the situation with his back. We lost our home to foreclosure in 2006. We worked for TWA until we got laid off at the end of 2003. There's more, but I'll save it.

I love animals, music, and food...not necessarily in that order. I fancy myself a bit of a chef, even though I have absolutely no culinary training whatsoever. But, my grandma was the most amazing dessert chef you've ever met, and I learned almost everything I know from her.

I work in retail banking, and we'll talk a little about that, but not too much. I don't want to dooce myself. If you don't know what it means to "dooce yourself", go Google it.

So...I don't really have too much else to say at this point. You'll have to bear with me, folks, as I figure out this whole blogging thing. As Joe Dirt once said:

"I'm new! I don't know what to do!"