Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Something Old, Something New

me: Hmmm, I want to wear the chinese jewelry. But I don't think it will go with my dress.
mike: Uh, ok.
me: It just feels wrong to even be thinking about maybe not wearing it.
mike: Uh. Kay
me: But, I bet pearls would work.  I can probably wear my mom's.
mike: Uh, sure.
me: Yeah, I'll try that. And that can be my something borrowed.
mike: Borrowed?
me: You know, something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. Mom's pearls can be my borrowed.
mike: Just borrowed?
me: Well mom certainly isn't going to give them to me!   

Monday, August 29, 2011

Hover craft

Today as I'm leaving for work (yay work!) I drove past the school bus stop on the corner of my street.  There was a mom waiting in her car across the street, while her kid waited at the stop.  I've heard of parents who do this, but I've never actually seen it in real life. 
I don't have kids right now so clearly I know how to parent and can say I won't be a hover parent.  But I can see the bus stop from my front window. So when the time comes for DC and SP to ride the school bus, I can at least hover from the comforts of my home and with my coffee. At least I've got that plan all worked out.

What I also don't get though, is if you are going to hover, then why don't you they just take the kid strait to school?  I know quite often that school isn't really on the way so this isn't an option at times.  But to me it feels like a waste of time to just wait there.

I took the bus to school, unwatched, in middle and high school.  Don't get me wrong, I tried to get out of it every chance I had, and once I was a junior, I was a snot and refused to take the bus.  But I also walked to elementary school since the school was in my neighborhood.  I walked (and later waited) in the snow, in the rain, in the freezing cold and in the blistering heat, along with the other neighborhood kids. We didn't get a badge of honor and we didn't expect any accolades for it either.  We had to walk, it was stupid not.     

Plus, getting ride to school from my parents, was impossible (they also never pulled us out for dentist or doctor's appointments either).  We would walk to school no matter what.  I'm serious, they never gave us a ride.  You think I'm just over exaggerating for this story's sake?  Well, here's this: When I was in 4th grade I played the cello, which was, yes, bigger than me.  It was too big for me to carry back and forth to school.  So on orchestra days, my mom would give the cello a ride to school and not me!

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Save the date!

As of now, we've sent/given 96 of these out:

Major snaps to my photographer!  Am I right? (of course I am)
No turning back now! That's ok, we can't wait!

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Woman Exec

I saw an ad in the local paper that a brand new store was being opened, and there would be 150 new hires.  What the hell, I thought. I applied online, I got an interview, and then got finally got a job. (I was doing a pretty good job at being kept, but the pay was total crap). The interview though, was a group interview, which I had never done before.  When in Rome I figured.  I also figured that since I saw an ad in the paper, and the store was having a job fair to get get people, it's to be expected that there will be a lot of applicants so this was how it was going to be.

The interview group had 10-15 people in it.  And like everyone else who got hired and went through the group interview process, I was wondering who else (or if anyone else for that matter) from my interview group had gotten hired as well.  I've seen a few other people from my interview group, either through our orientation or out on the floor by now. 

There was one girl in my group though, that I remembered without seeing her at an orientation though. I haven't seen her in the store yet, but that doesn't necessarily mean she didn't get hired.  I remember her for a few reasons.  In the interview, she came right out and said she wanted to become a manager, which, bully for her.  She also came right out and said she had gotten fired from her last managerial job that she had worked her way up to.  Which is not exactly something you should offer up in an interview, especially without being prompted. And also, she needed to wear a bra. 

It's just, if you want to be a manager, and you wanted to be treated like a professional (especialy as a woman), well, it helps if you act and dress like one. And if you wear a bra. 

Monday, August 22, 2011

little things

I just ordered flowers for my mom from my dad for their 34th wedding anniversary. (It's this Saturday) No trouble at all, I'm happy to help out, and it's easy to order online and sign the card for my dad.  

But note to caretakers everywhere: This is just one of the things we have to take care of now.  The little things that may have once seemed inconsequential, really do matter. 

Fortunately, we live in an age where we can order online from a distance.  And also, that I'm really good with remembering birthdays and anniversaries!

Sunday, August 21, 2011


What I did 3 hours ago: ran/walked 12 miles.
What my brain and body are doing now: muuuuuugh.
I'm not even mentally here enough to be bored.

Friday, August 19, 2011


I was on facebook and I saw that on one of my (peripheral) friend's wall, his girlfriend had posted a picture of a diamond ring and announced that she was "officially the last single one. It's your (his) turn."

Yeah. Like that's going to work.  It'll probably work just as well as that propose by new years or get out ultimatum she gave him almost 4 years ago.  He ended up just ignoring it and doing nothing, and she didn't push the issue or make him get out either. So...yeah. 

Oh well, like I said he's a peripheral friend and I barely knew the girlfriend.  Maybe she's just teasing and this time it'll work.  But I also don't really care to find out one way or the other. 

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Snail Mail

Mike was talking to his brother last night on the phone, while I started making our mailing labels* for our save-the dates (and later invites). I have almost all of my half, but Mike still needs to get  a good portion of his side.  And the only reason we have his family's addresses, is because his brother sent us his half of the guest list from his wedding a year ago.
So anyway, here's a portion of the brothers conversation:

Mike to his brother: Can you send me Kelli's family addresses when you get a chance?  We're sending the save the dates soon.
Brian: Sure, no problem. (something along those lines)
Mike: Thanks.  Yeah, you don't want Sarah coming after you for those!
Me: Hey! That's not true! I'm not going to bug Brian. No, what you don't want is me to come after you. (there may have been finger pointing involved)
Mike: Yeah.... That's true.

*Screw Miss Manners and that "hand address everything etiquette." We have almost 100 save-the-dates and invites each to send out, and Mike's handwriting SUCKS.  Mine can get sloppy too after I've been writing a lot.  So the $15 in labels is well worth that faux-pas.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Sigh of relief

I got a job!  Finally!
It's a part time position, and it's retail.  So no benefits, and it won't pay the bills, but I don't care because it's something!
I'm just so, so relived.  After months of searching and constant rejection, I can actually be doing something.  I'll meet new people, I'll have more opportunities and some doors may open now.  I am still going to search for a full time position, of course, but at least I have something now!
Now, to just not spend my entire paycheck for the discount...

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Brick wall

I expected thing to be hard with my dad.  And they are.  But you deal with it.  You adjust to a new lifestyle and you keep going.  But it is what it is.  My dad is mentally in a place that he can't take care of himself, and his reality isn't exactly the same plane as mine and the rest of us. But, oh well.  He's still my daddy, I will always love him, and I will enjoy the time I have left with him.

What I didn't expect, was the problems in dealing with my mother.  It's now been a year since the official diagnosis and she's still throwing herself a big 'ol pity party, feeling sorry for herself  that her husband isn't what he used to be. I know it's hard.  But she needs to put on her big girl pants and get over it.  Dealing with her and trying to get her to do things, I'm throwing myself against a brick wall.  But I can't let up or else my dad is the one that suffers the consequences of her (in)actions.

Yeah it's tough, my dad's disease and watching someone you love decline.  I expected that.  But I didn't expect mom to make things harder.  And that's what makes this whole situation even worse.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011


I was watching bridezillas. Mistake number one.  I know you have to call to be on the show (which, why would you do that?  Are you that desperate for your 15 minutes that you want people to see you at your worst behavior?), and some of them are just playing up for the camera.  But other times, it's not playing. Like the featured bride I'm going to judge right now, who was, forgive me, a total twat. 

She threatened, sassed, yelled, cried, hit and pouted like every other bridezilla on the show before her.  Nothing spectactular about that really.  She also had an overinflated ego, an unjust sense of entitlement and claimed her wedding would be the most important day of everyone's life, also like every other bridezilla before her.  Once again, not really that special. (though I'm sure her overinflated ego will tell me otherwise).

So far a  typical, not too special a bridezilla.  But then the little things just pushed her over the top.  It's all in the details you know.  Her friend can't afford to buy a plane ticket from Chicago to Milwaukee (which, is less that a 2 hour drive, I don't know why the friend needed to fly, but whatever), so bridezilla starts flipping out.  Bridezilla decides her friend does indeed have the money, so now this "friend" is just insulting her.  Not only will she fly, she now owes bridezilla an even bigger wedding gift for stressing her out.

She's so stressed out that this b-list friend would even think about not coming to the wedding, at bridezilla's cake tasting, she grabs her bridesmaid's cake from a bridesmaid and shovels it into her own piggy mouth.  Which, no, not cool.  In my book, cake stealing is a stab worthy offence.  And then bridezilla couldn't fit into her wedding gown. Which, is no surprise since she stole cake.  She cries, maybe in hopes of loosing the water weight, and then fearfully confesses to the camera how important this dress is in the history of the world.  And that she has to fit into it by Sunday morning.

And that was what pushed her into twat territory. Sunday weddings are an inconvenience and bitchy.
They are only acceptable if the holiday the couple wants as their wedding anniversary is on a Sunday.  (And if the couple is close friends or family. That is all).  Picking a Sunday just to pick a Sunday is not cool. It may be slightly cheaper for the couple, but the inconvenience factor for everyone else isn't worth it.  

So to sum it up: the girl was a bitch to begin with. She has a Sunday morning wedding make it inconvenient for everyone. And she took someone elses cake. What a twat.

Saturday, August 6, 2011


I don't like to talk about my dad's disease on here that much because I feel like I'm airing dirty laundry.  But that's becoming more and more difficult to do because it's woven itself into every part of our daily lives.  It's not as simple as "my dad has dementia."  It's not even mild, we're in the moderate to severe category.  It's not just adapting to a few little changes.  It's basic, everyday things we have taken for granted, have become something to monitor and/or make safe.  And not only from the big bad scary outside world, but also from himself.

I hate saying this, but it's true: it's only a matter of time before my dad has to go into a care facility. His disease will take him to a place where none of us will be able to physically and mentally take care of him.  Yes, I fought that reality at first, I'm still fighting it hoping I have years.  But no amount of pride, pleading and crying is going to change the situation. 
After pushing my mom for months, borderline almost a year, I finally figured that I was going to have to do things myself.  If we (ok, me) want a choice for his care, we (I) have to do this now so we're (I'm) not scrambling only to end up settling for some hell hole.  I'm not giving up on my dad, I'm not shirking him off to someone else.  I'm not.  I'm trying to figure out the best possible outcome for him and all of us.  But I'm in Charlotte and he's in Lexington.  So, I can't help physically right now.  My mom needs it and knows it.  But she doesn't have the grit to look for it, acknowledge that it exists, or let alone take it when offered.  So the responsibility of all this is falling to me. 

And believe me, I'm upset about that.  About everything. That my dad has this disease. That I'm the one taking care of it.  That no matter what I said or how I said it I would upset my mom.  But someone has to do it, and between me and my mom, I seem to be the only one strong enough to take action.  So with some grit and some courage, I'm taking care of things.  My mom and I reached an uneasy truce that I would figure things out and she would trust me on my choices.  Which is good, but I'm still alone on this.

It's not the most ideal situation, but what can I do about that?  I'm tired of trying to pull my mom's head out of the sand.  I'm tired of being scared for my dad.  I'm tired of feeling alone on this. I'm tired of looking for grit. And I'm sad.  So, so, so sad.

Thursday, August 4, 2011


I've notice something. That the nicer the car, the less the turn signals seem to work.  Funny that. 

I guessing the bulk of the money paid for those cars goes into important things like the fancy hood ornament, rather than a silly thing like using a turn signal.  It's a small glitch, I'm sure someone can fix that.  After all, if you are going to spend that much money on a car, there should be at least a little bit of disposable income to buy yourself some considerate driver.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Not exactly to plan

Last night Mike and I had a loose plan: go to a support group, get dinner after, then head home.  But things didn't exactly go as planned.  Not that things went completely awry, just, not as planned.  First, the Alzheimer's support group that I just started attending was canceled due to an emergency the group leader had.  So there went the first part of our evening.  But that was fine, these things happen. So we decided to go find dinner.

We tried a place close by that I found on urban spoon. (It's one of my new favorite websites. I like it so much I made Mike get the app for his iphone. (What? His phone is very handy for me.  And the app is free)) Dinner was ok. Cheep, but the food wasn't anything to write home about.   But that wasn't the interesting part (clearly).  What was interesting was the working cigarette vending machine the place had.  (We saw someone use it which is how we knew it worked)  I didn't know these things still existed, let alone, were even legal.  But that wasn't the only code maybe violation sort of thing.  Another customer, brought their dog into the bar.  Not a service dog, just a regular family pet.  Really?  I understand dogs on dog-friendly patios, but inside the restaurant?

Our dining experience being mildly interesting yet simultaneously sub par, we decide to go try one of those hot trend of the moment pay by the weight frozen yogurt places on the way home.  One just opened up near our gym a few months ago so we decided to check it out.  It's not until we're getting our fro-yo rung up that I notice that the frog in Sweet Frog is an acronym.  Turns out frog stands for fully rely on god.  Which....ok.  Mike and I are not exactly religious people.  We're not going to go bashing religion and those who are.  But, well, it just having it presented like that isn't our style.  

So, yeah, interesting night. Support group canceled, a working cigarette machine and a dog at dinner, and then religious themed frozen yogurt.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Throw me a bone

I got another rejection email.  Which I was getting used to because that's all I get from employers.  And to be honest you know going into these interviews that you are not exactly what they are looking for, or you don't have the right experience, or just something.  But this was an email for a bartending job.  A job that I do have several years of experience in.  I'm a pretty girl with a personality and I have bartending experience. There was no reason I shouldn't have gotten that job.

But I didn't.  Once again, I'm not good enough for something.  I have been told to try this field and try that field, and to look at this option and that option.  I know people are trying to help, but do they really think that I haven't done that already?  I have looked for 7 months in so many areas and applied to so many jobs that want a high school degree, or a degree in business and they all want 5-7 years experience. (How do you get 5-7 years mid-management experience at a Fortune 500 company when all you require is a high school diploma. Seriously, bullshit.)  I've applied for jobs I know I'd be great at and I didn't even get an interview or a thanks but no thanks for your interest.  So forgive me for not being enthralled to shift through the same job postings, only to apply for something I know I'm not going to get.

But not only did I not get this bartending job, I just got back from an incredibly tough week of looking after my dad and arguing with my mom about it.  Everything is happening so fast with him that I'm scrambling to catch up on years of denial.  I went to look at long tern care facilities this weekend and I had to go alone. (Another blog for another day).  It's just too much for me to deal with on my own, yet I had to.  And I was hoping that with all the lows of this situation, I could at least have something good happen to me.

I just want something.  I want my dad's brain to be fixed.  I need employment. I know the first ones not going to happen and it's only going to get tougher.  That doesn't leave much room for even more disappointment on the job front.  So if the second part of that would happen, I might actually have something to be happy about.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Know what's important

Last week I drove to meet little dude, visit with friends and then spend some time in Lexington.  But to first get to Cleveland, I have to drive north through Virgina for a small portion of the drive.  In theory, that portion of the drive should take an hour total.  It took closer to 3 due to congestion.  I ended up loosing 2 hours in that state, thus turning an 8 hour drive into a 10 hour drive.  Plus, I still had to drive through West Virgina after Virgina, which was nothing to look forward to.  Because I think we all know that nothing good comes from West Virgina.  I was pissed to say the least.  So I did what anyone else would do in my situation. I called my fiance to whine. 

me: Oh my god, Virgina you suck!  Honey, could you do me a favor and see if you can find anything online as to what the hold up is?  I mean, I know you can't do anything about it, but still.
mike: Sure. --sounds of typing and traffic sleuthing-- Looks like there's congestion miles 42-46 and 56ish.  Though it doesn't list any particular reason.  It does say traffic will clear up around 4:15, and that's soonish.
me: --whine!-- Oh goody for me, what that doesn't give me is those 2 hours back I lost.  This sucks!--insert string of whiny girl noises and phrases here--. Sigh.  I'm just bitching to bitch now honey, I'm sorry. I'm just, well, you know.
mike: I know. In theory you should be going faster in about 10 minutes though.
me: --snort-- Yeah, in theory.  Thanks for checking for me though.
mike: You're welcome. Drive safe.

We hang up the phone, traffic clears up in roughly 10 minutes after I drive through a tunnel, with no delay reason in site.  I am finally, finally, out of that state and now have West Virgina and 6 more hours to go.  Eventually I stopped to get gas and take a small break about an hour of driving at a reasonable highway speed.  I pull out my phone to send my girlfriends my new eta, and I have this text message from Mike:

mike: Amy Winehouse died. No cause of death yet but I'm sure the toxicology report will turn up something.
me: I LOVE that you knew to tell me that.

Yeah. He knows what's important. Best fiance ever.