Random Rim Jobs
I swear. True story.Happy Birthday, Mom
Posted on November 21, 2011I called my mother to wish her a happy birthday. I’m pretty sure she didn’t know who I was. She did sound happy and she did say repeatedly that she loved me, but I still don’t think she knew who I was.
It doesn’t matter. I called. She had a slightly less miserable moment in her life that has been mostly not great. Now she doesn’t remember. It’d be nice to be able to control whether someone remembered happy things or horrifying things. If I could, I’d give that gift to my mother, who unfortunately wouldn’t remember that she had the power. I would have given her that power years ago, before she got really bad, when she could still take care of herself. Surely, she would have chosen to not remember quite a lot. I would.
But I can’t control anything. I can call my mother and make myself feel better than I had if I didn’t call her. That’s it. There is absolutely nothing I can do. Happy birthday, Mom.
I swear. True story.
Happy Birthday, DJ
Posted on June 06, 2011June 6 is DJ’s birthday. June 6 is exactly one week after May 30, my birthday.
I met DJ when I was eight. She was one of many “lovers” my mother brought into my life between the time my mother and father divorced, when I was four, and when I moved out of her home, when I was 11.
DJ is 12 years older than me, and 15 years younger than my mother. My mother was 35 and fucking a 20 year old. My mom was a cougar before the term came into fashion.
DJ and I have stayed in touch on and off – mostly on – since I was eight. I lived with her right after I graduated from high school. She’s lived in Arizona for nearly 20 years but we talk on the phone and we’re Facebook friends.
For her birthday this year I got her a vibrating rubber duckie. She’s a big kid who has all sorts of toys, and she’s an adult who likes sex, so the gift will satisfy both sides of her. As a Gemini, of course she has two sides. All us Geminis do.
I talked to DJ to wish her a happy birthday. She was so happy to have made it to 50. Most people lament getting older. Not DJ, who is thrilled to have made it that far.
I’m very lucky to have her in my life.
I swear. True story.
Happy Birthday to Me
Posted on May 30, 2011Today is my birthday. I’ve already written about other birthdays today. And deaths, and weddings. I’ve also already written about other Geminis.
This year I’m just going to enjoy Memorial Day. Yes, my birthday is Memorial Day. The actual Memorial Day; the traditional Memorial Day. These days, Memorial Day is observed on the last Monday of May so people can have a three-day weekend, but the date of May 30 was the original day designated to honor dead service members.
These days, Memorial Day is the unofficial start of summer and a reason to start grilling. The Viking and I would like to start grilling but we’re having some difficulty. When the Ex moved out in January 2010 he stole my grill. The Viking and I didn’t get another one because we didn’t know when were going to move. That we didn’t move until December 2010 meant that we had nearly a year without a grill.
I love to grill and I love grilled food. If I could eat only one thing the rest of my life it would be grilled vegetables. I swear. True story. I also like grilled meat and grilled breads. Grilled fruit can be tasty, too. Grilled anything is good.
Now that we’re settled into our place, a place that had all the qualities we wanted in a place, including a place for a grill, we’re ready to get one. You would think that if we wanted a grill we’d get a damn grill. Problem is, our landlord, who used to live in our place, already has a grill on our porch.
We looked at the landlord’s grill and decided we didn’t want to use it. It was too big for the small space and it was the kind of dirty we didn’t want to have to clean because we didn’t make the mess. We asked the landlord to move his grill.
That was nearly a month ago. The grill was just moved yesterday, May 29. I’ve been doing some grill research but still need to go to Home Depot to see what they have to offer to compare and contrast. I want at least three burners so I can do indirect cooking (best for chicken and large pieces of meat), plenty of “counter” space to hold platters for on loading and off loading of food. Also, we want it to fit any grill into a 42″ space so it won’t take up too much of our back porch.
We won’t be grilling this weekend, but hopefully soon. Just a reminder that I’m not averse to taking your generous gifts. My PO Box address is over there to the right as is the link to my Amazon Wish List.
I swear. True story.
Happy Birthday, Sis
Posted on May 06, 2011May is a month full of birthdays in my family. My father’s is the 3rd. My sister’s is the 6th. My step-mother’s is the 12th. Mine is the 30th.
That means there are thee Tauruses in my family. Yes, I know astrology is bullshit, but the idea of three bulls – known for their stubbornness – in one family can make things difficult.
I didn’t get a chance to see my sister at our brother’s wedding because of a last minute surprise in my sister’s household. I had a chance to talk to her the day of the wedding and she sounded very happy about the surprise so I’m very happy for her.
I didn’t get a chance to talk to her on her birthday either. I left a message wishing her a happy birthday and hoping all was going well for her. Said surprise is undoubtedly keeping her quite busy so I understand.
Living so far away from the rest of my family means I don’t get to see them that often. Truthfully, when I lived in San Francisco I didn’t see them that often anyway, but when my sister had business in San Francisco she knew she always had a place to sleep; I was always happy to see her.
It was my sister who did absolutely everything to take care of our mother after she was kicked out of the house she bought with her then-partner. My sister still visits our mother much more often than I because she lives just a few hours’ drive away and she has a car.
I haven’t had a chance to tell her, but two different people at our brother’s wedding called me by her name. That should be comforting since our mother would often call her by my name, even before the dementia set in.
Happy birthday, Sis. I’m sure you’ll have the chance to shit yourself if you “win” the genetic lottery.
I swear. True story.
It’s Her Birthday
Posted on April 03, 2011Every year on April 3 I’m reminded that my birthday is imminent. April 3 is my step-sister’s birthday. We were born the same year just under two months apart.
When we were kids – her mother and my father have been married since we were four – I hated that I was younger. Kids always want to grow up so fast. Now I’m glad, if only because her birthday allows me to prepare myself for the inevitable – my birthday on May 30.
One of the other “nice” things about my family is that between my step-sister’s birthday and my own are my father’s, my sister’s, and my step-mother’s, in that order. In early May I have to send out the cards in rapid succession thereby allowing me to forget for a moment that I will soon be even older.
I try not to compare myself to my step-sister, but after almost a lifetime of doing so it’s difficult. She got the boys. She could actually talk to the boys. She had sex before I did. She had a boyfriend well before I ever did. She has always been thinner than me, even at her heaviest after having two babies. Of course she was able to lose all the baby weight. In the mean time, I look like I’m still carrying baby weight I never had. She’s always had straight teeth. I have straight teeth, too, after years of braces. She got the occasional pimple. I had acute acne that our brother (her brother, my step-brother) thought was so funny he’d get his friends to ask me if I had chicken pox. She could see just fine. I started wearing glasses in ninth grade after years of faking clear vision.
And now because she eats well and exercises and doesn’t drink hardly ever, she looks younger than me. She also has a job she seems to like and owns a house. I have neither.
The saddest part of my comparison is that she doesn’t seem to do the same thing. She seems to be genuinely content and happy and doesn’t envy me in any way.
And now that I think about it, I don’t envy her either. I don’t envy living in the suburbs. I don’t envy having two kids. I don’t envy having had those two kids with a guy I knew was an ass the day I met him, at their wedding. I don’t envy coming across as so parsimonious. I certainly don’t envy her lactose intolerance.
And she is older than me, dammit.
I swear. True story.
May 31, 1991: A Diary Entry
Posted on June 30, 2010Well, it was alright. Sat around with Cleo all day. She sure does make a lot of noise. Henry offered to take me out to dinner but I had already promised Laura and Deanna so I had to decline. So then Henry was going to meet us at the Brewer house at 11 but the fuckhead never showed up. Why does he have to be flakey [sic.]? And the thing is I can’t really get mat at him – I’m not quite sure why. But he did say something about taking me out tonight. But not until late cause he has to practice with Duchess De Sade. Laura and Deanna gave me pot – that was very nice cause I was out. I have to wait to go to bed until my comforter dries ’cause I had to wash it ’cause Cleo has pooped on it twice today. And now she’s scratching me and driving me crazy. I think Henry got me a pipe. Laura was gonna tell me but I like surprises. I’m irritated. Why does he have to be like this? I better get taken out and get some action is all I can say. Does he even like kissing me? Does he even want to? Thank god Cleo has calmed down. Why do I let Henry have so much power over me? Should I just tell him – lay it all on the line? Fuck I don’t know.
Thailand, Revisited, Reworked (Part 1)
Posted on June 06, 2010The summer following my second year of law school I returned to Bangkok. The school year had gone by pretty quickly, mostly because I had been planning for the summer. Planning for the summer included taking a Thai-language course via an adult education community program in San Francisco.
I had wanted to return to Thailand over my winter break. I had met plenty of people the prior summer that I would have had a good time, and probably some work. My plans to return in the winter did not involve my husband, however. By the fall the Ex had moved up to San Francisco from LA and got a job. Also, we couldn’t afford for both of us to go. If I had gone over winter the Ex and I surely would have broken up – seven years before we finally did.
It was some time in the fall that the Ex found a picture of the guy I’d spent all my time with the two weeks after he left. This was back before most anyone had digital cameras. I had borrowed a friend’s 35mm camera and had taken a lot of photos over the summer. The friend ended up dying; I still have the camera.
The Ex found the picture and got all sorts of angry and hurt. He tore up the picture (which was foreshadowing of what he’d do to pictures of him and me after he caught me cheating seven years in the future) and scratched out the guy’s face in the negative. You see, kids, cameras used to have film, from which negatives would be developed and prints would be made.
I found out that he found the damming evidence when I came home from one of my Tuesday night Thai-language courses. He was upset and stayed, just a block away near the Great American Music Hall, with Jesús. [Really, if you've not yet read "Smooth as Silk," about my first summer in Bangkok, you might be a little confused as to the cast of characters. Go read it, it's pretty good.]
I remember feeling sorry he was hurt for seeing the photo, and feeling angry that he’d destroyed the photo of a guy with whom I’d had a lot of fun. I also remember feeling like he was making a big deal out of little; I had come home to him, hadn’t I? I could certainly love him and fuck other people, only I didn’t know it myself, and didn’t have either the self-awareness or the balls to tell him that.
After a few days of debauchery with Jesús the Ex came home. In order to get him to do so I had to promise not to go to Bangkok over winter break and to start therapy. I’m sure if “sex addiction” existed at the time I would have been accused of having one. If he only knew ….
Throughout the school year I had to assure the Ex that I would not cheat on him again if I returned to Thailand in the summer.
During the school year I sent a number of letters of inquiry to law firms in Bangkok that had international business practices and that wanted to cater to English-speaking clients. Technically non-Thais cannot practice law in Thailand. However, since the Thai definition of “practicing law” is very narrow – arguing a case in court in Thai – it mattered little that I was not yet a lawyer in the United States, as I could never be a lawyer in Thailand. That I was American was a major boon.
A few firms were interested, but I finally settled on a small firm with a practice in Bangkok and Paris. The major reason I chose the firm was because the job came with an apartment. We had stayed very inexpensively at a shitty hotel the previous summer, but I liked the idea of having a kitchen of my own and not having to worry about nosy hotel personnel.
For my birthday in 2001, the Ex gave me a Coach umbrella. He knew how the summer rains in Bangkok were, and had seen what can happen to an ass in the rain. [If I've not yet told the story of the Bangkok rain's effect on my ass, I will.] But it was (and is; I still have it) a full-sized umbrella, which wasn’t very practical for traveling. A friend drove me and the umbrella to the airport. At the curb I realized how unwieldy the umbrella was and I asked her to return it to the Ex for safe keeping.
I was off to work in Bangkok while the Ex worked in San Francisco.
[To be continued, for sure.]
I swear. True story.
