I have flashes of thoughts that could possibly be posts but I just don't have the energy to flesh them out. It was a long week at work. Well, maybe the correct thing to say is that the week's commute has been extra hellatious. So here are my scattered thoughts.
1. I am still cracking up over the comment yesterday from Anonymous. Because all I can think is that if this person read this blog on a regular basis, s/he would know that there are other things going on here besides food. But that's not what keeps me laughing. Anyone who has ever met me knows why I'm laughing hysterically. Oh, and Anonymous? Next time don't comment from work.
2. It's probably a good thing that I haven't been going out as much as I used to. In the past, when things went out of whack in my world, I always knew the one thing over which I had control was my weight. I spoke to my aunt in Savannah this morning. She said, "You might finally be getting into that size 4/6 range?" When I told her that I never wanted to be a size 6, she asked a lot of questions. And I lied. Just like I lied to my dad in this past week when I said that I was perfectly fine. Because I know deep down inside that I'm not. I know that I have fallen into bad habits. I skip meals and occasionally I puke them back up. OK. That last part is most frequently unintentional. I have a low gag reflex due to years of actively making myself throw up. So I often accidentally make myself throw up -- think toothbrush. There is a part of me that also knows that if it was easy for me to gain weight, I would have gone to the other end of the spectrum years ago. And I know that I should probably go back to counseling. The thing is that Thrive only seems to have times available during working hours. And now that I've found the great job, I just don't know how to ask for the time to go to appointments. (And for those of you have seen me recently, don't worry. I have years of practice of covering up what I'm really going through. And years of practice of not trusting people completely.)
3. I am torn between what to do this weekend. Part of me wants to stick close to home and get a little partying in. But my dad is trying to lay down the guilt trip about my not going to Sacto last weekend. The thing is that this weekend is Mother's Day. And I have a psycho insecure mother who will be kind of pissed off with me if I spend the day with my stepmother. My mother told me, "You can go to Sacramento this weekend but just remind that woman that she is not your mother." Have I mentioned that my dad and my stepmother have been married for 22 years? Have I mentioned that my parents have been divorced for 34 years?
4. I was about to get into the whole thing of therapy in my early 20s there but decided to spare y'all. Bottom line is that at 30, when my mom threw a hissy fit because I cooked dinner for my dad for Father's Day and invited my stepmother to join us, I learned to start to set some boundaries. The result? My mother was ready to walk but after a few hours of tears, she came crawling back and stated that she would obey the rules. Occasionally I kick myself over this whole thing. Because she lied. She really wouldn't know a boundary if it smacked her over the head. They've always been kind of blurry for her. Since I recognize this, I try to be forgiving.
5. Sometimes I go through a "what if" scenario. Those of you with siblings never really understand the burden of being an only child. When mom or dad is going through something, there's no one else to whom you can pass the buck. It can be stressful at times. I think this is part of the reason why Marin and I became friends. We understand this because we have each had to live it. My "what if" scenario involves a husband and kids.
6. My father may be a little less delusional about my stepmother's condition. Last week she had to start wearing Depends. (And if I ever get to the point at which I have difficulty in getting from point A to point B on my own steam and I have to wear Depends? Well, I have one word for you -- euthanasia.) He was so freaked out over this that he wanted to admit her to the hospital once more. My father is generous only to a certain extent. Don't fuck with his routine. Because he loves his routine.
7. Speaking of routine, I am heavily into reality TV these days. I like to think of it as my weekly skank fix -- Flavor of Love, Beauty & the Geek, Farmer Wants a Wife.
8. And I've been busy to set up routine at work amidst all the craziness. Well, occasional craziness. And a lot of the craziness goes back to one of the guys. He's a widower who's not much younger than my parents. And kind of hot if you find white-haired men hot. He's completely old school. His computer skills go as far as reading email. He may occasionally forward them but I have yet to hear of him responding to one. But I was warned of this when I took the new position at work. He was a little worried at first but now I have become his personal OnStar. I kid you not. I get phone calls of, "I'm at such and such location and need to get to this place. How do I get there?" So I pull up Google Maps. And stay on the line until he has made the final turn. I also get phone calls for folks looking for him. He has a tendency to ignore voicemails. So I end up sorting things out. But that's OK with me because these are the kind of things that I'm good at. Just like I'm good at helping him to sort out the mountains of paper in his office. Really. Mountains. When I go in, I tell the receptionist that if I'm not out in a reasonable amount of time that she should send in a search party. But he knows what he's doing -- professionally (He brings in at least a third of the business, I have been told.) and on a interpersonal level. Because the Blarney runs deep in him. He will ask you to do something with that hint of a smile in his eye while he calls you "darling" and you feel compelled to help him.
9. I have been cracking up over Catheroo's post. I am trying to figure out where I could put a treadmill in my place.
10. What is up with Mariah Carey's marriage?