To What Extent?

There's this company...okay, the one I work for, and it's not looking so good. Some of our customers have shutdown for the month of July, and some have shutdown permanently. This has affected us financially which has affected our employee status...down to the bare bones basically. There's these employees...two to be exact, that don't necessarily bring anything to the table because their work is always done by someone else. Both of these dumbass-freeloaders, ahem, employees make a substantial income. If we were to terminate at the salary level again, these would be the most likely...you would think. Unfortunately, I see nothing coming down the pipe to the effect and I'm afraid that the company will crash and burn before they do something in time to turn it around. So to what extent; stay in for the long haul and pray we keep our head above water long enough for the ****** industry to pick up again, or jump ship and search for calmer waters in this chaotic time of unemployment, inflation, election year bullshit? Scary times... scary times.

And so it begins...

So I'm lying in bed this evening playing with our baby boy, Brayden, when in comes our oldest son, Anthony. He's crying crocodile tears as he throws himself on the bed and proceeds to tell us that he's tired of being "fat". Now mind you he's nine years old, weighs 104 lbs, and stands at exactly five feet. Not your average nine year old. Not even your average 12 year old for crying out loud!! Fat is not a word anyone could sanely use to describe him. Gigantor maybe, but certainly not fat.

My husband and I practically melt, our hearts going out to him. We're not an unhealthy family, by no means, but Anthony hears us both complain about our weight that I know we've given him the wrong impression.

Not only is he being hard on himself about his weight, but now he's self-conscious about his glasses (that he's worn since the 1st grade), he's starting to get pimples on his chin, AND he's got hair growing under his arms and, well according to him "down there" also. Of course my face was beet red and my mind was racing at what the hell I was going to do about all of this.

He's only nine! Okay, so he turns 10 at the end of next month, but he's not old enough to be going through puberty! I'm not ready for him to be going through puberty! So what do I do? I send in my hubby. No one knows what to say to him better than his Dad, right?

So what does Dad do? He gives him a high-five and a Borat "Very Nice". Oh boy…the only thing I have to say to this is "Thank GOD we don't have girls!"

In lieu of Dad's "pep talk", I'm preparing myself to have a more detailed conversation with him. But first, we're hitting the store to buy his Dad a bicycle so they can bike together while I go running with Brayden (I don't ride bikes; that's a whole other story). Then come contacts, which were already in the works for his birthday, and of course the face wash. Some days I wonder why I ever quit smoking, because if ever there are moments for it...this would be one of them.

Run or Hide

It's a Monday morning of misery as I peer into my closet of beautiful clothes that I just can't fit in. I've been battling myself over losing this last bit of (Dunken Donuts)"baby" weight, with little success. I have two options, I can get off my (fat ass butt) and run, or I can get a loan for $50,000+ and have surgery and hide for 8 months while I heal. Gee, let's take a look at the pros and cons of that! Okay, so I just had a baby...7 months ago. I know people who had babies 7 years ago that are still trying to lose the baby weight, but you know what? That's not good enough for me. I know better. I know what I have to do to get back to my size 8. Yeah, I use to be smaller, but I don't want to be (an anorexic crack-head) skinny, I just want to be able to wear my beautiful clothes again. I have jeans and slacks that I refuse to get rid of because I hope, no, I know I'll be able to fit into them again someday. I'm just hoping it's sooner than later. So I guess I just have to run.

Someone's bugging me...

I have a small group of coworkers that I speak with privately on numerous politics of the workplace. Some of these are warranted, some are not, either way they are in private. Lately it has been brought to my attention that our conversations are being overheard. It's not by someone standing outside my door or around the corner so how are they listening in? We came to the assumption, not yet confirmed, but pretty sure that someone has bugged my office. I'm going to do a sweep tomorrow (Friday) using the project of painting my office as a cover. This way no one will suspect why I'm behind cabinets or up in the ceiling. I'm really agitated now and getting more so as I think about it. Today I will fester, tomorrow I will conquer.

The Dead Zone...

It was dark, nearly 10:00 P.M., and we were driving through the backwoods of Louisiana. The directions I had gotten earlier would have been perfect...in the bright light of day. We took the exit of off I-12 East to 55 North heading to Pine Grove. A 'ways up the road' later we exited towards Amite (pronounced Ay-meet). I was expecting it to be a few miles from the interstate. Twenty minutes later we pull over into a gravel lot in front of a dilapidated building that later we found was actually inhabited.

I'm calling for new directions as we are lost. The signal is weak, but I get through. "Mama? Can you hear me? We passed the casinos on the right, think we've gone too far." Static and crackling is heard then her voice comes over, "You'll go through two caution lights, and you'll see the town of Pine Grove (which consists of a very small convenient store and a Napa Auto parts at an intersection--nothing else!) "Then you'll come up on a black church on the left, take the next blacktop after that and..." more static then the line goes dead. No signal.

Okay, so we're close, we know what to look for at least and I'm hoping the roads will start to look familiar since there's no sign at the entrance to their road. I tell my husband, who is driving at the time, to go through two caution lights and look for the black church. "A black church at night?" (this gets hilarious). "Yes, smart ass, it will have lights on it."

Now all of you are thinking the same thing my husband was thinking because none of you are from the 'deep South'. Mind you I grew up in a time of segregation where even to this day black and white is more than just a color. Bobby was was looking for literally a church painted black, when I had meant the church that the black community attends. Yes, I know 'black' may not be the politically correct term, but back home it is what it is. So needless to say we passed it without realizing.

We had been on the road for nearly twelve hours with a talkative nine year old and a teething 6 month old. We were ready to be at our destination eleven hours ago! There is no phone signal what-so-ever. Those people you see on TV with the Verizon network? Yeah, those fuckers left us high and dry on that dark road. We go through not two , but three caution lights, then we pass a fence line, saw a stop sign at the end of a road with no street sign, and saw a little white house on the corner that looked familiar. Bobby flipped a 180 in the middle of the road and we took our chances. Down the black top, nothing but the truck lights to light the way, a right onto a gravel road...a bit further, we see the NO TRASSPASSING sign and take left onto another gravel/dirt road, and then we see a gravel/grass driveway. We turn in, and peeking out from behind the quadrillion trees we see it...a light! It was the new house all lit up like a beacon on the sea. Finally we made it!

The twenty minutes before we hit the dead zone was the last communication we had with the outside world all weekend. No phones worked out there, and no computer (thanks to mother natures attack on their satellite dish). Can you hear me now?