rebecca_in_blue: (worried eyes)
The last few days have felt pretty crappy. After school on Friday, I took "Briana" to the lakefront and we fed the ducks and splashed around in the fountain. That sounds like fun in theory, doesn't it? So why did she seem bored to death, yet again? Too often I feel like I'm forcing her to do stuff she doesn't want to. I need to call our caseworker at Big Brothers Big Sisters and discuss this.

However, in my defense, as much as I might suck at doing stuff with her, at least when we make plans, I stick to them. Props to me for that. Woo-hoo.

After work on Saturday, I went straight to the temple for Havdalah and Selichot services. We took the regular bima and Torah covers off and put up the special white-and-gold ones for the High Holy Days. There was also a little oneg with cheese, fruit, cookies, and of course, apples and honey. Yum! After that, I drove over to Mom's house because Adam and I had made plans to go to the movies that evening. I was looking forward to it -- which was my first mistake, children. When I got there, this was our conversation:

Adam: Well, maybe next time, when they're showing something better. [I know where he gets this from.]
Me: I thought you said you wanted to see it.
Adam: Well, I don't really like that movie.
Me: Then why did you say yes when I asked you if you wanted to go?
Adam: Uh...

Ordinarily, I don't think this would've upset me that much, but it came at a bad time. My family has a habit of cancelling on me like this, and I'm starting to suspect that they actually don't care about me at all or that I'm incredibly repulsive and no one ever wants to spend time with me (which would also explain why no one ever hires me and why Briana is always so bored with me). I know, I know, I'm whining now, but it really does bother me because I have few no friends and there are things I'd like to get out and do, but going it solo is hard for me. (Guess I better get used to that, since I'll be doing it for the rest of my life.) That's one reason why I joined Big Brothers Big Sisters.

Speaking of which, the #1 rule they give you when you join that agency is this: "Be consistent and dependable. Do not oversleep, be late, reschedule dates, or make promises that you cannot keep." Why didn't anybody ever give this to my family?

And when I got home from work today, our power was out! Again! (It's back on now, obviously.) Sigh... I hope I snap out of this funk. The High Holy Days are coming, and I can't make atonement in a pissy mood like this. But I also can't get over the irony that I'm going to be saying the Kol Nidre, the Yom Kippur prayer whose specific purpose is to remind Jews not to make rash promises, and certain people I know won't.

rebecca_in_blue: (raised eyebrows)
I've been working on cleaning out the apartment for the past week or so. Partly because Sara and I are hoping to move later this month, and partly in preparation for Passover. (Did you knows it's a mitzvah for Jews to clean their houses before Passover?) It starts this Friday, and my temple is having a congregational seder. I can't wait!

Anyway, I have bags and boxes of stuff to either throw out, recycle, or donate. Last night, I tackled two drawers full of old papers and found that I held onto some very pointless, painfully embarrassing stuff. (Sara says that I'll end up like one of those people on Hoarders. Har har.) I had to look at every page to make sure I wasn't recycling anything I wanted to keep. For example, between several issues of my middle school student newspaper -- What the hell? Why did I save those? -- I found a drawing that my grandfather, whom I never knew, mailed to my dad when he was in the army.

I'm recycling large chunks of journals I kept during middle and high schools. I reread them last night, and it's almost hard to believe that all six members of my family ever lived in one house. It was such a monumentally bad living arrangement. There were several long, angry entries about how Mom believed whatever Adam told her, never wanted to hear my or Sara's side of the story on anything, never disciplined him, and often punished us for things he did. Most of it wasn't an exaggeration. My mom has mellowed a lot in recent years, but when we were kids, the smallest thing would throw her into the worst rages. I walked on eggshells around her (and out of habit, I still do) because I never knew what would set her off.

There was also an angry entry at Christmas one year when I gave Adam a new copy of a book he wanted (purchased at an overprice bookstore, since shopping online didn't exist back then) and he gave me a bag of chocolate-covered peanuts clearly labelled $1. And at least once a year, from middle school up through high school, there was an entry about how I was rereading Watership Down and how much I loved it. It's still my favorite book, and Adam still gives crappy gifts. Some things never change!

Me: [reading a movie magazine] What's method acting?
Sara: It's when actors draw from their personal experiences to convey emotions. James Dean, Marlon Brando, and Shirley Temple were all early pioneers.
Me: [dies laughing]
rebecca_in_blue: (stiff shoulders)
A scene from Grandma's house, on Christmas Eve...
Adam: (about Grandma's new armchair) Wow, how much did that cost?
(As an aside, he has the worst gift-giving manners ever. He is constantly telling you how much how little he spent on your gift, and asking how much everything cost. Ugh! Our dad is spinning in his grave.)
Me: Adam, stop asking how much stuff cost!
Athena: Rebecca, stop being such a Jew.
At which EVERYONE in the room bursts out laughing.

I can't stop thinking about this, and the more I think about it, the madder I get. Next time Athena is in town (which will probably be for Grandma's funeral), I should tell some good Mormon jokes and see how she likes it. Hmph.
rebecca_in_blue: (stiff shoulders)
My grandma is in the hospital (has been since yesterday) because she's had so much pain in her legs and trouble walking lately. Some relatives have been trying to get in touch with my mom about Grandma, and I feel like I'm being put in the middle again. It is not a pleasant position to be in, and one person even seems to blame me for my mom's behavior. I've had to make and receive some very snippy phone calls lately. Honestly, it's times like this when I can understand why Mom cut off contact with her family. For Hanukkah this year, I think I'd like a new family consisting only of members of my temple and NCIS characters.

The day got even worse when I got in my car after work and discovered that the battery in Muse Watson had died at the worst possible time! I made several calls for a ride but got no answers, and even more depressing, every single time, I got the message "Sorry, but the person you are trying to reach has a voice mailbox that hasn't been set up yet." Ugh! So I had to walk home! (Work is not right around the corner, nor was my walk through the most well-lit, pedestrian-friendly neighborhood.) At least the weather's still warm. After I finally got home, I had to drive back to work in the truck, get Muse Watson jump-started, and buy a new battery for him. It was the biggest, most inconvenient hassle, and I missed seeing NCIS live! I watched the new episode online later, and it was the only thing that got me through the day.

On the other hand, it all kinda emphasized that I still have my good health and relative youth to be thankful for. I mean, Grandma is in the hospital because she can't walk, but I got an opportunity to put my legs to good use today.

"McGee, I have decided that I'm not gonna complain about anything ever, ever again. How could I whine about the cost of my DVD by mail service when there's real problems in this world?" )
rebecca_in_blue: (trembling hand)
Can you believe that I've never photographed one of the oldest cemeteries in town, even though it's within bike-riding distance? Yeah, I couldn't believe it either, so today I finally hopped on my bike and corrected that. The cemetery is very well-kept for its age, and I was able to do some research for Find a Grave and even fulfill some photo requests. And I'm almost never able to fulfill photo requests, but this cemetery was relatively small and had a fairly long list of requests.

While I was wondering around photographing the graves, I got a call from one of my aunts, saying that Grandma's had bad pain in her legs and trouble walking recently. She and my other aunt arranged for a doctor to visit her tomorrow, but in the meantime, they wanted me to ask my mom, a nurse, if she would go by Grandma's sometime today and check on her. (They can't call her themselves because my mom refuses to speak to her sole surviving parent or any of her siblings directly and has for a few years now. I'm pretty damn sick of being their go-between.) So I called my mom and left a voicemail relaying this, but I'm willing to bet any amount of money that she won't go. It makes me kinda sick. I'm tempted to ask mom how she would like it if she were old, in pain, and I refused to see her. I'm not the best daughter (oh no, far from it!) but I've done things for my mom when she was feeling bad -- one of them directly after she yelled at me for no real reason. Ugh. On the other hand, I'm tempted to say nothing because I know I can't change her behavior. Cue the crankly old grandfather from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory: "No one can!"

It all got me so depresesd that I laid down on the grass in the cemetery, sang the Mi Sheberach, and stared at the clouds until I felt like I was falling. I haven't done that since I was a kid.

Tonight's episode of NCIS also felt me feeling blah. Essay-length notes on 9x08 "Engaged: Part 1." )

It's been overcast all day, but it didn't start raining until just now. Some scary thunder and lightning outside my window.
rebecca_in_blue: (worried eyes)
As regular visitors to this blog may have already noticed, Rebecca changed her layout! This is a huge deal for me, as I've had very similar versions of the same layout ever since I joined LiveJournal back in 2007. I'd actually been wanting to change to the minimalism style for a while now, but I didn't think it allowed header images, and I'm pretty attached to my header image of Victoire Thivisol in Chocolat. Then I found some CSS coding that lets you customize your content width and add a header image in minimalism, so I quickly switched my style. It took me a while to get everything just right, though, and I still worry that while my blog might look the way I want on my computer, it could be all jumbled up on computers with different brower widths. I need to visit it on another computer and check.

A few random thoughts for the week so far:

I've noticed that whenever I run into people who knew all of my siblings and me (certain former teachers, friends of Grandmas') the first and/or only one of us they ask about is Ben. I never noticed this before, but now that I have, it's irritating. Is it because he's the oldest? What did he ever do to warrant getting asked about first? He's not the only one of us worth asking about, nor was he ever. I should start telling people that he doesn't even support himself and still lives with his mom.

I finally came up with a New Year's resolution for 5772: to write more fanfiction about Jewish characters in different fandoms. (I already have a couple fanfics that deal with Judaism, but they're almost all about Ziva.) I think this counts as the mitzvot of k'lal yisrael, Jewish solidarity -- not to be confused with t'zionut, support of the state of Israel. My other resolution is to do more mitzvot. I've realized during these High Holy Days that even though I'm official now, I still don't really feel 100% Jewish. I suppose this will take some time. So I'm trying to build my Jewish identity any way I can.

On a similar note, I'm seriously thinking about fasting (or trying to) on Yom Kippur this year. Last year, my reaction to the whole idea was pretty much, "Fast? Like hell I'm fasting, you crazy Jews!" But this year, I'm officially one of those "crazy Jews," so I feel like I should at least make an attempt. It doesn't help that my birthday falls so close to Yom Kippur this year, and my grandma wants to cook me a special birthday dinner right when I'm supposed to be fasting!

I got a fortune out of a fortune cookie this week that told me: If you have to choose between two evils, pick the one you've never tried before. I LOVE that!
rebecca_in_blue: (trembling hand)

I'm still having regular dreams about being in a car crash. Last week, I dreamt that I rear-ended my cousin Matthew in our grandma's driveway (and his mom is the car insurance agent for both of us) and just last night, I dreamt that I was driving around my old neighborhood in Baton Rouge and crashed into a police officer! Blegh! I've also been dreaming a lot about being late for work (ever since I came in really late back here).

Things I've done with my tax refund check so far:

  • Paid my library fine. Finally! 
  • Gotten Muse Watson inspected. I may or may not have let his inspection sticker expire.
  • Taken me and Sara out to lunch at Cici's. I love Cici's pizza, but I hate going there by myself, and she almost never wants to go with me. Oh well, at least I have my gas station pizza.
  • Bought Adam a ticket to X-Men: First Class. He had his birthday last month, so I paid for his ticket as his present. Call me a bitchy sister, but I really resent buying Adam a birthday present. He was 24 this year, and he's never had to work for anything in his entire life. I am not exaggerating. He still lives with Mom, who pays for everything he wants/needs. When I was that age, I was supporting myself, and Mom had made it clear that she didn't want me living in her house. It's kinda hard not to be bitter over this.
And speaking of bitter, I have another job interview tomorrow morning. Really, what's the point anymore?

The Torah portion for this week is titled Beha'alotecha ( בְּהַעֲלֹתְךָ ), meaning "when you step up." I'm trying, Torah.
rebecca_in_blue: (Default)

I went over to Grandma's last weekend to do my laundry. (Which, as an aside, raises the question of who I'm going to mooch off after she moves!) For some reason, my aunt who lives with her went into a long monologue about how she's proud to have me as her niece and she thinks I bring a lot to the family. Nice, I guess, but it had me nodding and smiling like an idiot while I tried to figure out where in heck this was coming from.

She also accused me of never telling them anything (them being her and Grandma) and said that they wouldn't know what was going on with me at all if it weren't for other relatives who read this blog and report back to them on it. (They don't have a computer, so they know this blog exists but have no access to it.) I already knew that was happening, but I'm not quite 100% comfortable with it. First of all, I don't know what news she thinks I'm not sharing, since I have no life, and secondly, while I love Grandma, she can be the queen of overreacting. A few months ago, when I mentioned to her that I wasn't getting many hours at work, she went on and on and on about it as if it were the worst thing that had ever happened to anyone. It really got on my last nerve. Bottom line, there are some things written on this blog that I don't want getting back to her.

I suppose this is all part of having a gossippy southern family. It reminds me of a few days ago, when I made the mistake of talking to Sara about one of the steps to convert to Judaism, she said in a perfect imitation of The Parent Trap, "Wait until your grandmother finds out what you're going to do." Haha. [/very sarcastic laugh]

FOUR ... MORE ... DAYS until Rebecca attends her first Passover seder! I'll actually be going to two this year, one at my Jewish grandparents' house and one at our temple. I'm a little nervous (like I was for my first Purim and women's group meeting) but I'm also looking forward to it.

rebecca_in_blue: (Default)

Okay, a warning before you read any further: This entry will offend and/or disgust everybody. For those of you who read it anyway, I invite you to vote in comments on which exchange is the most appalling, A, B, C, or D.

(A) Apparently there was a discussion in one of Sara's classes over famous murders of recent years, and the Andrea Yates case came up. Sara told me later that when it happened, our mom cut out and saved all the newspaper and magazine articles about it. I don't remember her doing this, but it wouldn't surprise me if she did. I told Sara that I could picture Mom reading about it and thinking, "Yes, live the dream, Andrea! Kill your children!"

(B) During the same discussion, one student mentioned a woman who killed her baby in the microwave, and Sara matter-of-factly said, "I wonder how she fit that baby in there. I mean, I could never fit a baby in my microwave." At which point, several people in the class turned and stared at her.

(C) A few nights ago, I was putting a pizza in the oven for Sara and making fun of her fear of putting things in the oven herself. She got pissed and said, "Why don't you shut up before I shove you in the oven? That would be your real introduction to being a Jew." Maybe I shouldn't have been shocked after living with her for as long as I have, but my jaw still hit the ground.

Edited to add:
(D) While Sara and I were at Mom's house for dinner...
Adam: Weren't these Dad's bowls?
Me: I don't know. Maybe. [Pause] Oh, dammit! I forgot to ask who!
Adam: What?
Me: Sara and I are trying to look confused and ask "Who?" whenever anyone mentions Dad. You know, like we don't remember him. But we keep forgetting to do it!
Adam: [glares at me]

rebecca_in_blue: (dropped jaw)

Back-to-School Week was about as hellish as I expected, but at least I survived. And it's over now, much to the relief of me and pretty much every parent I checked out. We got pizza on Friday to celebrate it being over, and I dug uneaten crusts out of the garbage and brought them home to Sable, so everyone was happy. (Wtf is up with people who don't eat their pizza crusts? I love the crusts!) Anyway, some important lessons I learned this week:

  • The most boring TV show in the world can be made amusing by Sara's sarcastic comments. 
  • Grits are an excellent before-bedtime snack. I finally got sick of oatmeal, so I've gone back to grits.
  • Encounters with your former high school teachers don't have to be awkward... but more often than not, they are.
  • Wealth is measured in more than just money... right?
I've been collecting cans as much as I can lately to help with the costs of getting my name changed. I dropped three bags off at my mom's yesterday and accidentally forgot to bring them to Grandma's house later (I store the cans in her garage between cashing them in). Today Mom collected said bags, drove them over to my apartment, and left them outside the door. Wtf? Even though I put them on the back of an outdoor shelf that she never uses, apparently seeing any sign of my existence is offensive to her. This after I found out a few days ago that my 30-year-old brother who still lives with her doesn't have a valid driver's liscense or car insurance, pays no rent or bills, and uses my brother's phone and my mom's bike because he doesn't want to buy ones of his own. (Mom is apparently okay with all this, since she's allowed it to go on for years.) In what universe does that make sense? My life might not be perfect, but at least I have a concept of responsibility. 

I had a dream about said brother a few days ago in which he was siphoning gas out of my truck into his car (which is non-existent in real life, since he doesn't know how to buy car insurance). I found out about it and got so mad that I took a bite out of his arm. Literally, I bit out a big chunk and my mouth came away full of arm guts.

And oh yeah, so excited over this...
Less than a month to go, people!!
rebecca_in_blue: (red riding hood)

One of my guilty pleasures is the hot food counter at Wal-Mart. I set foot in Wal-Mart maybe three or four times a year, but whenever I do, I make sure to grab some of their chicken tenders and potato wedges. They're so good, and last time I went, I found out they've started carrying little packets of dipping sauces at the same counter, including blue cheese sauce! I love you, cheap American food!

One of the Jonas Brothers was on this today's cover of Parade magazine. (One of the curly-haired ones, not the flat-ironed. I don't know their names. Alvin? Theodore?) I looked at it and the first thing I thought was, "Corey Haim was on magazine covers once. Is he going to wind up like Corey Haim someday?" This is one reason why I don't put much stock into child actors. Child actresses by and large tend to age much better, prettier, healthier, and more successfully.

The stupidest commercial on TV right now are the ones for Brinks Home Security. Every one shows a white woman in the suburbs having her door/window smashed in by a big, angry-looking man who's always carrying a crowbar (never a gun or a knife), is usually a minority, and often smashes in the window in broad daylight while the woman is standing right in front of it. Right. I know that as a white woman living in the 'burbs, I have my door kicked in on a regular basis!

One of my friends-and-relations went into my store yesterday and told me today that the short guy with the ponytail was "very obviously homosexual." I know just who she was talking about, and he is, but it still struck me as a somewhat... judgmental thing to say. I remember describing him as "flamboyant" when I first met him, and wondering the way you wonder about Quentin Tarantino, but unless he grabbed another guy and they made out right in front of her, how is it "very obvious"? My family can be nosy and gossipy sometimes (like most families in the south), and they can be annoying (like all families anywhere). But I don't think that gives you cause to write them off, to ignore them, to pretend they don't exist. That's why it pisses me off when my mom's family tries to defend her behavior. I don't think she has any good reason for it.

rebecca_in_blue: (bemused shrug)
I had another dream involving child actresses last night. (See also the one about Liz Taylor and the one about Anna Paquin & Victoire Thivisol.) In it, I'd just bought a DVD of this movie starring a really young Dakota Fanning (like, I Am Sam-era young), a Matilda-era Mara Wilson, and a modern-day Natalie Portman, who I think was playing Mara's mom. I can't remember anything about the actual movie, except that I really loved it and was so excited to have a copy.

Adam and I drove out to Iowa yesterday for the Rabbit Festival. I enjoyed the atmosphere and looking around at the booths, but I mostly just went for the carnival food. I love carnival food! (Carnival rides make me sick now, which makes me feel about as old as Grandma!) With the incredibly strong smells of boiled crawfish -- which, like coffee, I love the smell but not the taste of -- and onion rings bombarding my nose from every direction, it was really hard to limit my choices to nachos, funnel cakes, and fried oreos. Adam had a sno-cone and cotton candy. Would you believe he's curious as to what raw onions taste like, but wouldn't try a bite of delicious funnel cake? We also visited Celeste & Co. while there and met their dog Bo, who is so sweet that he reminded me of Dug from Up. Within a few minutes of meeting me, he was throwing himself in my lap and gazing up at me adoringly. The most amazing thing is that I could pull myself away from NCIS and leave the house at all that day.

The weather was nice enough while we were out yesterday, but last night was almost scary. It didn't rain much, but the wind was strong that I thought I was back in Villers-Cotterets. It practically shook the apartment building at some points, and I could hear it whooshing up and down the streets like it was alive. And angry.

Today I did my laundry at Grandma's, flipped through her TV Guide, and made a list of every NCIS episode coming on from Monday to Thursday. I put it up on our refrigerator, although I considered taping it to the corner of the TV screen. I'm so excited: tomorrow is "Judgment Day," the one where Jenny dies!!! I've been looking for that episode on YouTube since for weeks, but I've only found parts of it, so I never got the whole story on how she died. As much as I liked her and didn't want her to die, this is going to be awesome.

Tomorrow, it's back to the salt mines. There has been a lot of drama at work lately because one of my managers claims she's being disrespected. I think she's just taking her anger over her skunk-striped dye job out on us. Sara has said I'm "the definition of passive-aggressive" -- which is something I've seriously been trying to change -- but I'm nothing compared to some of my co-workers. They're having worse problems with Skunkhair than I am, because they tend to cry in the corner, roll their eyes, make sarcastic comments under their breath, and/or bitch to me when she pisses them off. I am working at honestly telling her when she pisses me off, and why.

I've also been trying to figure out how I got to be so passive-agressive in the first place. It sounds so whiny for anyone to still blame their problems on their mom when they're an adult, but I do think my mom's part of it. She's not a cruel person, but when she gets mad, she can say and do incredibly hurtful things. I don't remember ever trying to talk to her about this -- or about anything -- because it was always a given to me that she wouldn't apologize, wouldn't admit she'd done anything wrong, wouldn't change. I remembered recently that when I was a little kid, if I was doing I shouldn't, if someone said to me, even in a perfectly nice way, "Please don't do that," I would feel devastated and think they were angry with me. Is that normal? But then, is anyone? Think I'll go watch Matilda now.
rebecca_in_blue: (dishevelled hair)

Mom called me Friday evening, wanting to know where Adam was (she has to know where he is at all times). She says that he's not answering his phone and she can't get up and look for him because she threw her back out and can't get out of bed. I'm pissed (why is she calling me? how should I know where he is?) but offer to drive over and see if he's walking up and down the street, which he usually does at night. Mom snaps, "Oh, don't even trouble yourself. Just do whatever the hell you want," and hangs up on me.

About an hour later, Mom calls me again. She's lying in bed, with debilitating back pain, can't find Ben or Adam, and needs me to go buy her some wine, which apparently is the only thing that can ease her pain. I'm tempted to say, "Sorry, but I don't trouble myself, I only do whatever the hell I want," or "Oh, yeah, where are your precious sons now?" or "Remember that time in 2007 when I had asthma so bad I couldn't even talk and Sara asked you what she should do and you yelled at her?" But instead I just go out and buy her the damn wine.

On Saturday I did my laundry and visited Grandma (who was having Aunts Bello and Sis over for lunch; they were like some crazy old Cajun ladies club). It was supposed to be my day off, but Nice Manager called me and all but got down on her knees and begged me to come in that evening, because the mid and closing workers for the front end had both called in sick. So I figured what the hell and worked close. One of my co-workers bought me this awesome French-themed photo frame magnet to thank me for coming in. 

Today Sara and I cooked ourselves a delicious breakfast of biscuits, bacon, and scrambled eggs. Then we visited CJ & Company, bounced on their trampoline, played with their puppies, ate their brownies, and altogether had an awesome time. Oh, and on Friday afternoon, I went to a garage sale down the block and three shirts for only a dollar. One of them I really like and am wearing now.

rebecca_in_blue: (shocked)

Rebecca might just win the contest for having the two laziest, sloppiest brothers in the world. I've stopped going to the house while the two of them are living there, because they keep it in such a disgusting state. The cabinets are sticky, the floors covered in dust, and my old room is now being used as a storage bin for my older brother's various rubbish. Not that I really care about my old room. There's nothing left there now but dust, mold, and unhappy memories, all of which give me asthma attacks.

So our mom is coming back from North Carolina either this weekend or next week, and rather than actually clean the house themselves -- which just might kill them, who knows? -- they're getting our aunt to clean it for them. These are two grown men who are still living in their mom's house and can't even bother to clean it. If I were them, I would at least have the decency to feel ashamed of myself. They probably don't even know the first thing about cleaning; I can't imagine Mom ever made them do housework when they were kids -- not when she had two daughters to shove all the workload on.

To top it all off, our aunt intially volunteered to come clean house in the morning, which would be most convenient for her. But my brother said, "No, I sleep in in the mornings." (Hello, she's doing you a favor, and you're making even more demands of her, you lazy asshole?) So instead she's going to come in the afternoon, even though that's out of her way. Maybe once my aunt sees what the house really looks like, she'll back out and they'll have to find some Mexican guy to clean it for them.

In other news, I gave Sable a bath yesterday, and I think he's lost even more of his hair. (Though on the plus side, having less hair seems to cut back on his fleas.) Tomorrow I'm going to try to make it to the pet store to get a bottle of Royal Coat Express -- another miracle cure for Sable's skin that I'm pinning all my hopes on. You know the only thing I've ever found that really makes a difference is fish oil.

I rode my bike to and from work today and yesterday. The weather has been so nicely lately -- sunny and cool and breezy -- that I want to soak up as much of it as I can.

rebecca_in_blue: (worried eyes)

You know how sometimes churches will sell barbeque dinners to raise money for repairs and what-not? Those things are the way to go. They're cheap, delicious, and they give you a ton of food. I'm always meaning to buy one when I see notices for them in the paper, but I never did until yesterday. I got a styrofoam box full of a huge piece of barbecqued chicken, rice dressing, green beans, cole slaw, a roll, and a Little Debbie cake. And best of all, I didn't barf it all up later!

I've been trying to bathe Sable more often because his skin is a lot worse in the summer. (I'm giving him more fish oil too, which helps a lot.) But yesterday I did the most irresponsible thing. I made him walk all the way from Mom's house to our apartment after his bath. It's only a distance of 0.5 miles, according to Google, so I didn't think it'd be that hard on him, but it was. Even after we got back, he panted for a long time. I felt so bad.

Mom called me yesterday, and our conversation ended in me hanging up on her. I don't know when I've ever been so mad at her. First she wants to know, "Is it hot down there?" I mean, she couldn't ask a more pointless, stupid question if she tried. Nobody needs to ask if it's hot in Louisiana in June, especially not someone who's lived here most of her life. And to top it off, she then raves about how cool it is in North Carolia. She either 1) is purposely trying to piss me off; or 2) is delusional enough to think that she can convince to move up there. File that under never. I'd rather live with Sara in a third-world country than live with Mom in the premier arrondisement of Paris. Or maybe 3) she expects me to whine about the heat for ten solid minutes the way she always did. Dad would say things like, "Hot enough to boil my coffee, or hot enough to fry an egg?" Mom would just say, "It's so bloody hot!" once every thirty seconds.

Then, when I give one-worded answers to all her questions ("So what have you been up to?" - "Nothing.") and don't talk enough for her, she huffs, "Well, I'm sorry if I bothered you." That's when I hung up on her. I'm so tempted to add her number to my phone's automatic-rejection list.

I was so mad that I went for a long bike ride to work off my anger. And I found a five-dollar bill on the sidewalk! I was hot and sweaty by that time, so I bought an icee at a gas station. A gas station is an oasis when you're riding a bike. A place offering air-conditioning and ice cream and icees and popsicles. Speaking of posicles, I filled one of my popsicle molds with pickle juice and it's freezing into a pickle-sickle right now. I still find the idea weird and gross, but who knows, I might actually like it.

rebecca_in_blue: (stiff shoulders)

I hate Mother's Day. I hate having to split it between my mom and Grandma. I hate the phony excuses Mom makes about why she won't see Grandma. Yesterday it was because Grandma was cooking red meat, and Mom doesn't eat red meat. Right, so if Grandma had cooked chicken, you would've gone over? Don't make me laugh.

I ended up getting Mom office supplies for Mother's Day. Sara and I ate lunch at her house yesterday before we went to work, and I had dinner at Grandma's after I got off. Then I stayed up all night barfing. Sara says I shouldn't go to Houston if I still feel bad. We were supposed to leave at 2 today, but Mom just called and pushed it back till 4. I won't be surprised if she pushed it back even further, or cancelled it altogether. What a pointless trip. We won't have time to do anything.

I'm the midst of some very aggravating computer problems right now. Between that and the barfing, I don't know which sucks more.

rebecca_in_blue: (stiff shoulders)

For some reason, my mom bought a lock for the backyard gate before she left for North Carolina. I have no idea why, because that backyard is probably the last place on earth that anybody would walk into of their own free will. But she bought one anyway and we've been using it. So early this morning I was woken up by my dog, who was whining because he needed to go out. But I couldn't put him in the backyard because I couldn't find the key to the lock. I had to wake up my brother, who was the last person who locked the gate, and he eventually found it. (He hadn't put it back where it belongs. Big surprise.)

Then I discovered that he also hadn't closed the lock correctly. He put it on upside-down, so now we can't get it open at all. And I can't ride my bike because my bike is in the backyard! What's even more frustrating is that if I had done this, my mom would probably spend all day yelling at me about it. But my brother did it, and Mom is a firm believer that He Can Do No Wrong. I'll probably get blamed for it, because she usually blames me and/or my sister whenever anything goes wrong. My older brother lived at home until he was 28 and I never heard Mom say one thing about it to him, but she tells me and Sara (frequently, and usually loudly) how much she hates us living here. She recently told me, and I quote, that after we move out, "I don't want anything to do with y'all."

Last time Mom called, she said that she wants to celebrate my birthday next weekend, when she comes back from North Carolina. I really don't want a birthday party this year (for reasons unrelated to Mom, but if I do have a birthday party, I really don't want her there), but I can't pass up the opportunity for some cake. The only thing I really want is a book that Sara said she'd order for me from her store.

Sara and I still haven't moved into our apartment because our utilities still haven't been turned on because of Hurricane Ike. We really hope to be out by the end of this week, at the latest. My brother had better get that lock fixed soon. If he thinks I'm a bitch now, he should see me after I haven't been able to stretch my legs properly for days.

P.S. I recently saw the movie Lawn Dogs, with 10-year-old Mischa Barton. Highly recommended. I loved it so much that I think I'm going to watch it again before sending it back to Netflix. I'll try to post more about it when I'm in a better mood.

rebecca_in_blue: (Default)
Well, I began job-hunting in earnest today, and it's already hard not to get depressed. I can only hope that the Willstaff here can do more than the Willstaff in Baton Rouge, which was a waste of time if I ever saw one. I'm just frustrated to learn that apparently I have to start paying bills now, rather waiting until I get a job. It's even more frustrating because I'm certain that all my siblings have gotten this grace period (considering that Brother #1 spent over a year doing nothing – not working, going studying, or paying bills – after he graduated from high school, and Brother #2 is almost 21 and still in high school). I'm beginning to think they must be smarter than they look and act, since they apparently figured out that life is easier if you keep everyone's expectations low.

Okay, Rebecca is just whining because it's late and she's tired, so she's going to bed now. Tomorrow she'll turn in some more resumes, and hopefully things will look better, the way they sometimes do the next day. Cut to Aileen Quinn: "Bet yer bottom dollar that tomorrow they’ll be sun!" (Heh, the song isn't even really playing, and Sara isn't even here, but I can still see her rolling her eyes!) I ended up giving my DVD of that movie to Chinese Sarah before I left France, because she enjoyed it so much. I got an e-mail from her earlier today, which was awesome.

Oh yeah, and recently, for no reason whatsoever, I learned to recite all 43 American presidents in chronological order. So now I go around saying, "Washington Adams Jefferson Madison Monroe Adams Jackson Van Buren, etc." (and I could go on!) whenever I get bored.

rebecca_in_blue: (stiff shoulders)

Sara and I have ended up staying at Mom’s house for much longer than planned, which has both ups and downs. Although I’ve enjoyed seeing Grandma, Adam, Athena, Sable, the cats, playing Adam’s Wii, eating Grandma’s spaghetti, and updating my iPod (I have 80 songs on it now), overall this trip has been extremely depressing. I’ve come to realize that I no longer consider Mom’s house my home, which I suppose means I’m growing up. The disrespect that Mom shows to me and, to a much greater degree, Sara is simply unbelievable, especially when compared with her favoritism for Ben and Adam. She has been treating us this way for as long as I can remember, so I should be used to it by now, but for some reason, I’m not. It’s still very hurtful. I’m also looking forward to leaving because I forgot my preventative medecine, and so my asthma has been very bad here (it’s always worse around Sable). I lost count of how many times I woke up wheezing last night, and my albuterol inhaloer is running low.

I think Ben has gotten weirder since the last time I saw him, judging by the comment he made when he saw me reading an article on the French presidential election in Paris Match: "I’m glad they elected Sarkozy." I turned around and yelled "What?!" so loudly that I think Ben actually jumped. He said something about Segolene Royal being a fascist and Nicolas Sarkozy being the lesser of two evils, and I could have argued with him, but I was too shocked. I keep forgetting that just because everyone in the LSU French Department hates Sarkozy, it doesn’t mean everyone in the world does. Obviously a lot of people don’t hate him, or he wouldn't have been elected.

Something else I’ve realized while I’ve been here is that besides being a great cook and gardener, Grandma is a spectacular amateur photographer. This is especially obvious in photos of her children when they were young. A found a big box of them at her house and many of them were so beautiful that I had to ask Grandma if she had ever studied photography (she never has, which I should have assumed, given what I already know about her education).


rebecca_in_blue: (Default)

March 2013



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