Screw the merry elves...

... I'll take the cookies.

Ah... Christmas time again. A full schedule of events that you are always so grateful are over when you leave. Every year I say it will be different. This year I seem to have a jump on things... not that it will matter.

I am done with shopping and nearly done wrapping. A few little things are coming this way and then I am truly done. I have bought my stocking stuffers and just need to get them to the right places. Mikkel is making some awesome gifts this year and I cannot wait to see what she comes up with. Quite creative!! The bright spot.

I have been off for two tours and I really need to remember that that is too long to be off. I have nearly put January 2013 Union paper to bed and that is a relief. The plans need to firm up some before the Srs test so that this isn't a full time project like it has been. But it has been fun and certainly a learning process.

I hate this time of year. Just hate it.

Get Off My Lawn You Kids!

Fun news! I submitted a photo to the IAFF for the Media Awards contest and it won Second Place in it's category. Awesome!! Jeff Caynon, our Union president called me and told me and sent me a picture of the "big ass" certificate and told me about the honor. For about 30 minutes it was the coolest feeling. People that didn't know me looked at the photo and the description and said, "Outstanding enough for a certificate and a bit of reward money."

Then as is natural the 30 minutes passed and it was, again, no big deal. It was again just business as usual. Then it was wash dishes, do chores, listen to kid be a prima donna... just a big nothing. The highlight of the evening was when everyone got onto me about moving a cottonball holder. That of course takes precedence over everything else.

They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I see why parents of teens say "they are making me crazy." Because they are. There is no reason why someone you have raised from the beginning to be kind and respectful gets to act like they do and get away with it. So as a parent of a teen you get to sit back and on the surface be calm so you can set a "good example". I am not real sure you shouldn't just lay some Kremlin-like moves on them and have them seek out ways to keep you from acting like that again.

I am assuming time will be the only way she will be able to look back and go, "God, why didn't they kill me? I am not doing that anymore!" I am sure grandparents get a kick out of this stage in their precious grandkid's lives so that their kids can see what it is like. I just have to keep from alienating her long enough to reap the just rewards of watching her kids drive her up the wall...

Yesterday Her Highness and I were watching on TLC brides and bridesmaids fight over dresses for a wedding while we did her hair. She and I both agreed that that amount of effort and emotion used to determine chiffon from silk, sweetheart neckline or boat style, and you are just jealous because I have more boobs than you was probably absolutely the most important thing these people have ever done and it is best if they just stayed out of our way.

Realizing that it just might be worse that we were WATCHING this we jumped up and ran out to go get some dinner and take some photos. We climbed  up on a cliff off Loop 360 and got some of the Pennypacker Bridge (she informed me that it is the longest single-suspension bridge in the world) and then we charted a course to Hyde Park for more photographing. We made it all the way through downtown and the ROT rally to park and go to the Congress Street bridge in hopes of seeing the bat flight.

We got to watch the sunset, chitchatted about boys, took pictures of a guy sleeping on his guitar, and pondered that we wish we hadn't drank so much water. We watched kayakers paddle by and these bicycle pontoon things mill around. The pontoon things had bells on their handle bars (they looked like bicycles perched between two yellow pontoons) that lit up when you rang them. We agreed this was on our Must Do list. We watched some party boats sail by and thought that might be a fun party as well.

Finally the sun set and the bats could not decide to come out so we wandered down to the park below the bridge. We sat on the grass and I went to go get a bottle of water from two men with a pull cart. Mr. Lee and Mr. Grossman (who informed me that Grossman was German for fat man. Of which he was not. Not fat. He was a man.). They reminded me of Papa as they were obviously educated and funny. Mr. Lee was the head of the Friends of the Bats coalition, colony?, here is Austin. I bought my water and gave them a tip for the bats. Mr. Lee waxed eloquently on about the over 800 species of bats, how he was here 7 nights a week cheerfully selling drinks and snacks to raise funds for the colony and educating bat novices like us in the process, how they were making park improvements and bat sanctuary adaptations carefully, thoughtfully, and with a cheerful forward momentum. They were both a pleasure to talk to in that they were passionate about bats, realistic in their expectations, and undaunted by their red-tape stories. Mikkel and I listened and chatted and left talking about how nice it was that the bats had such marvelous advocates and if only there were more visionaries like them for so many other groups.

So much so that I am going online and making a donation to the Friends of the Bats in my mom's name.

I blame the world...

"Is that really how you feel about that?", she asked.

"Yes, I have thought about it for a long time and that is exactly how I feel about it when I am angry, happy, sad, irritated, or just waiting in the ATM line, " I replied sitting in the grey flannel upholstered chair that was badly rump-sprung.

She looks at her notes we have accumulated over the course of several meetings, fingers rifling through a genuine Rolodex despite her iPhone4 sitting there. Upon reflection I was silent thinking she was plotting her next statement designed to comfort/piss me off/or reveal she was a Divine Student of the Obvious but now I realize she clung to the Rolodex because everyone knows iPhones are good for everything but actually making a call. Since she was a psychologist she probably danced naked under the stars in some bizarre ritual and said she would try not to make people crazy on purpose and calling people then dropping their calls multiple times is bound to make anyone blame their parents for anything. Hence the paper file.

"You know, you probably have repressed memories of sadness from your childhood and if we could talk about those...", she ventured unhopefully.

"I tell you what, you ghoul, they are repressed for a reason. If I came in here and said I relived every time a bone broke or I slammed my finger or a patient vomited on me then died even you would think that was freaking weird. Now I am supposed to examine everytime I got spanked (twice and I deserved it), didn't get completely actualized, or didn't learn appropriate self-congratulatory mechanisms I am unbalanced?", I asked, secretly pulling out the tacks from under the uncomfortable chair. Now I have a half dozen rusty tacks I am at a loss to do something with that doesn't invlove an assault charge or poisoning the fish tank bubbling soothingly beside me except for the fish trapped in the tank with artificially shortened life spans.

"I am 41 years old. I have a job, no terrible bad habits, believe there probably is a god but the one that has been portrayed by mankind is doing a suckass job of it and needs a PR update. I think that to blame my mom or dad for anything now is a bit like buying Off! after the malaria has set in."

We eye each other warily. She is wondering why I am there. I am wondering why I came. She is convinced I have something fatal from the DSM-III guide and I know for a fact she is making this stuff up as she goes along and it was the only degree that she could get that kept her from being a social worker.

I throw the tacks in her trash can (I miss one) and stand to leave. I am tired and need a shower and really only came to talk about a call that was stuck on rewind. She asks if anyone else is having issues with that same call and I said, "Look. If I went to the doctor and they said it was going to take years worth of visits and experimental medicines in trial by error doses and examinations of the minutae of not getting to sign up for summer camp one year because you didn't mow the lawn often enough to get better from a chronic stomach ache you'd say, 'Oh hell no!' Maybe just maybe someone's mind just needs a swift kick in the ass to get restarted. You can't do that, apparently."

We parted company, each relieved to be away from the other's company. She probably had some professional guilt about it and I should have been nicer. I went for a walk in Memorial Park with a friend who hates people and loves fire trucks and would prefer to talk about trucks and doesn't understand people and really only tolerates them if they talk about trucks. Then I went and had a margarita and found a geocache. I visited with a homeless guy (accidentally) I used to pick up from 33's all the time and left him with some dinner and paperback romance. He prefers being on the streets than constrained by society's rules.

As I made my way to a shower I realized that whatever you think your problem is, that is what it is. You will refute all evidence to the contrary to prove yourself right. There aren't many people who look up and say, "I am all fucked up. I am fucked up because I cannot get myself right. I will take responsibility for myself and fix this in slow steps if I have to." My truck friend hates people and is happy like that. My homeless contact knows he will be uncomfortable but he doesn't blame anyone. I then realized that nothing is as bad as it seems and in fact, was better already and getting better by the minute.

You know, it really was all your fault...

...and so the consequences will be commiserate.

I do believe my new, well not NEW new pet peeve is people who cannot take responsibility for their own actions. Or have the ability to look out and say, "What crappy luck. Damnit." and move on. They are blaming the system, the Man, their gender, race, or color. I do not know alot but I have seen alot of the world go around and even scraping together some of the best and brightest together and finding out what their big issue was would be a stretch to asusme they are plotting against YOU. I am confident your mother thinks you are the greatest thing ever but the rest of us think you are just another mouth-breather in the way.

The Fake Captains will not let their suit in court die. They are resurrecting the fact that the appeal to the test was designed to disparately impact the same protected class that filed the EEOC complaint to begin with. Not that any of them showed up to the appeals.

It is painful because women are just barely lumped out of the Fake Captain genre of people despite the fact we test well, generally do not complain and if we have an issue we come with a solution.

Maybe if Viagra men were to get a deep rectal exam and an EKG...

...I could understand what the hesitation is with not allowing women to choose their own health plans.

The conservative wingnuts are killing themselves to out-Neanderthal each other and that is somewhat of an insult to Neanderthals because really, they didn't know any better. Allegedly at least some of the conservatives HAVE been to a school. The curret debate is whether contraceptives, not even abortion anymore, should be as accessible and readily funded in the insurance plans as it is. This is 2012. It isn't enough for these mouth-breathers to want to deny women access to abortions, or make the process invasive and demeaning, rather than the outcome of a thoughtful process. They want to deny women contraceptives. They want to cut education funding. They want to reduce health care access. And worst of all they wish to remain befuddled why teen pregnancy is on the rise, we are losing the edge in the global market, and our nation is steadily creeping up in being on eof the unhealthiest.

Conservatives continue to be deeply afraid of women having free and equal control over their own bodies and all that follows from that. Like having sex. Creating fewer unwanted children. And women taking care of themselves. What a sin. 

It had to be done...

...as the fake Christmas tree was shedding on the floor and combining with the dog hair so that little balls of static electricity were snapping their way across the floor and clinging electromagnetically to my socks.

My sister is the queen of eclectic decorating. Her kids have whole walls of painted trees, chalkboards, and she has upside down Christmas trees and trees in various colors and themes. They are awesome and they don't look weird or smack anything of, "Well, I would have more cats but they would get in the trees." She even had a sign saying, "Cats stay out of trees!" Her cats are obviously smarter than mine. I loved it.

Anyways, I cleaned today. Bathrooms, kitchen, floors, rugs, dusted, rearranged, updated the calendar, took down decos and are getting ready for Valentine's. Which promises to suck ass if Christmas is anything to go by (but I was ready for that) so instead of waiting for anything stupid like a Valentine I am going to go with a cake-theme. Seems only fair. Like a Marie Antoinette Does Cupid sort of deal. I will get my sister to help.