Thursday, March 27, 2008

"You're so emo," he said, disgusted.

That child of mine has a few things to learn about women.

And, besides, what's so wrong about being a little emotional now and then? (Although, I will admit, the 'now and then' part is stretching out w-a-y longer than I expected. Holy cow. I am forever going to refer to these last 6 months as The Winter of My Discontent. And speaking of 6-month-long winters ... IT SNOWED TODAY. On March 27th. When I'm old and dotty, I'm going to talk about the olden days and how it snowed AFTER WE SWITCHED OVER TO DAYLIGHT SAVINGS. How it snowed AFTER EASTER. How the snow covered the daffidols, the cherry blossoms and THE DOG POO IN MY YARD. Yes. I will probably yell those things. I'll be old. I'll do whatever I want at whatever volume I please. And I imagine I will still be angry that I have dog crap on my lawn.)

Where was I?
Oh, yeah. Being emotional.

Speaking of which, when I got to work today, there was an envelope with a cheery Jane O written on it with multi-coloured markers and a handful of brightly wrappedHershey kisses scattered about.

Seems that my young friend in the cubicle behind me, had a few things to say about my (Sunday March 23) Facebook status. My status that day? "Jane is ineffective."
(I'm so emo I should dye my hair black.)

Anyway, she, being the student she is, wrote out an essay, complete with footnotes, references, and supporting material telling me her thoughts on the subject. She had me crying in 12 seconds.
Everybody should have a Shannon in their lives.

I should have had a daughter.

In other news, because I can only talk about myself for so long, my dad is getting a day pass. (Doesn't that conjure up images?)
For the next little while, he'll be allowed to go home during the day, as long as he is back in the hospital overnight.
That, my friends, is good news.
I'm not sure he understands ... he's still talking about the car show in July ... but that's OK.
Actually it's more than OK. It's awesome.
For him. And for those of us who love him.

It's been one month. One whole month of him being in the hospital. He wasn't even in that long when he had his heart attack. Or when he had triple bypass surgery. It's been a long haul.

I got a phone call last night, from an aquaintance, inviting me over to a thing. Lots of women. Hot tub. Games.
Oy vey. The panic.
I haven't been social for weeks. Months even.
As she's talking, I'm thinking, "My eyebrows need shaping. My hair needs highlights. I still have traces of nail polish on my toes from my pre-Puerto Vallarta pedicure. My arms need to be waxed. When was the last time I shaved my legs? Who's all going to be there? Great... I'll be the heaviest one. I have nothing to wear - the last time I bought clothes was before The Winter of my Discontent -over half a year ago. What am I going to do with Drew? I leave him alone every night when I'm at the hospital - do I leave him home alone AGAIN? Who's all going to be there? I haven't spoken to any of them in forever. They're going to ask me about churches. And where I'm going. Because all of them are settled. And I'm the loser in the find-a-church race. And how old am I? Ten?"

Hi. My name is Jane. I'm emo.

Three things I'm thankful for:
1. Shannon loves me even if I am a putz.
2. I've got 4 more DVD's in case I need them.
3. The Message version of the Bible. Awesome, man. Totally awesome.


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