Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Carry that Weight

Carry that weight

I’ve been carry excess baggage around and I want to get rid of it - baggage in the form of resentment.

First, is the person that I thought was my best friend since freshman science. We experienced growing up like brother and sister. The first time I got really hammered I was in his basement. The person he called when his dad left was me. The first person that was at the house when my mom died was him. We would do long Saturdays on the lake followed by a bonfire. And whenever there was a family function for either family the other was always there. Always. And then something happened. I don’t know what but he stopped coming to Milwaukee. He would always call to say he would come for a party, a birthday, a holiday and never showed up. And when I would be in West Bend trying to get together there would be continuous ringing on the other end. We haven’t spoke since the day before my Dad’s wedding. He was scheduled to come and instead of calling me he calls Sara, says he has to repair a roof and I haven’t heard anything since. Surely he would know more people there than most guests so there wouldn’t be a need to feel uncomfortable. But roof repair instead of a wedding? Did I do something or are you on something? I have no idea what happened and that’s what bothers me. We had a closeness that felt like family but now it feels more like another high school buddy that I no longer talk to.

Second, is a spectacular female is hopefully is still reading this because I have not responded to her in months (particularly because I didn’t know how to respond). The sleep-on it mentality has lasted a half-year. It is as if our friendship was as if one was on the other side of the world. Our mentalities, our schedules and perceptions of each other are extremely different. Each of these road blocked attempts of getting together. Married life is very different from single life. Schedules conflicted more than enough and the excuses for not getting together were abundant. The communication cleared died in the frustration of not understanding each other. We just gave up because we thought the other is just someone we didn’t want to be friends with. Clearly after being friends for almost 7 years, helping each other through the best and worst times there is indeed something there. There are times when I know she is the only person to call because I know she can help me through that situation. But I don’t instigate because I am woman hear my roar. I’m learning I cannot do everything by myself. She even knows that I tend not to ask for help. But one day I came down with some sickness where I was puking every hour. I obviously couldn’t go anywhere and had to turn my self in to request help. She came with a care package. And she watched me puke on the sidewalk while traffic went by. But I couldn’t be happier because I couldn’t care for myself. Thank you!

Third, is the result from my last post. If you were on the other end reading about how I felt about a situation someone was involved in, you’d be pissed. Obviously, or not so obviously, I unconditionally love my friends. I hope they know I am there for them and I do hope they know I respect their feelings. So much can get lost in emails and text messages. Here, I am posting on a blog! Miscommunication escalates and we both are unhappy. I’m sorry about what happened on Saturday it is neither of our faults. It was the situation. I’m ready to move on and learn from it. I am not going to lose another friend from it.

Today is Molly’s birthday. None of us can wish her one because she is not here. While I was in Australia she left me comments on here, which have been fun to go back to. She and I had our differences and for awhile we didn’t talk. But somehow things worked themselves out.

Sunday, March 04, 2007

Saturday

I love my sweatpants, especially on Saturdays. Since I freelance on the weekends, this attire is the most accommodating for me. I can roll out of bed, start a pot of coffee and begin cranking away with designs. Yesterday, however, was entirely different. I had spent Friday night in West Bend. It was Christmas all over again – a full house. Two parents, four adult kids, one grandchild and two dogs. The house was waking up around 6 am and in full function clean mode by 7. I snuck back downstairs to futz with my sewing machine, that I just got repaired. So I pinned up my fabric, rethread the machine and started sliding the fabric through. Upon looking at what I just stitched there was clearly a problem. FUCK! I rethread and rethread and rethread only to run away quickly before smashing the machine with a ruler. All I wanted to do was sew. It’s meditative and relaxing. Now I have to get it repaired - again.

Next on the agenda is to buy a baby gift before my step-sister’s baby shower. Danielle and I head to Kohls. Shopping in the baby department is like petting a pet rodent. They are supposed to be cute and adorable. Petting is more a nervous stroke. Danielle and I were lost in a cage of blue and pink. We would hold something up “Is this cute?” “Should we get it?” (a crinkle in the forehead appears). As soon as we made peace with a couple one-z things, bibs and an outfit, we squirreled out of that section and never looked back. Now, I just adored my cousins when I babysat them and love my 3 year old
niece. I just couldn’t imagine a baby in my life at the current moment. Maybe in a good chunk of time I’ll be ready but the idea of not sleeping, lots of poo, losing my body for a year, baby food spit-up and a car seat in the mini does not excite me.

Danielle knows she will have a baby before me because I told her so. But she is all about throwing a party, so here’s the deal. When I get my first dog I want a dog shower. The best thing is that the dog will be there, unlike the baby shower when the baby is still whirling inside a tummy. Everyone can bring dog bones, dog treats, knitted dog outfits, dog togs, etc. Instead of the invites offering to watch the baby they will offer to walk the dog if I’m away for the weekend. Wouldn’t that be great!

So back to the house we went to honor the mother to be. And two drinks later it was over. I love my new sis and will love her baby I’m just not the type of person to gush over a stroller or the size of her belly. I want the old nichole back were we could both easily stir up a cocktail and just talk about normal stuff.

That was the morning. Now the evening.

I like La Fuenta for their mediocre food, quality service and pitchers of rainbow margaritas. The plan was a small group to La Fuenta. Then the party grew and someone suggested Botana’s, a Mexican restaurant down the street the rivaled La Fuenta’s food and service, so someone said… Four of us arrived at 8:00 and was told the wait would be 45 minutes. Fine - there is bar and tequila – we will be fine. After our entire party of nine arrive I make two pit stops up to the hostess, one at 8:45 confirming that we will be indeed be seated soon. And another at 9:00 at which time we are shown to our table.

Opening the menu I wanted the same plate I get at La Fuenta for the same price (The combo taco and enchilada for under $8.) They didn’t have it so I ordered 3 tacos for $8.25. Some time later our food came and out my 3 soft shell tacos with NO rice or beans. OK if most of you know me, I absolutely dislike soft shell tacos. If I want a taco I want it crispy and salty (like taco bell) and when does a meal NOT come with rice and beans. I was ticked. I cut 20 years off my age and became a six year old whipping the soft shells out from the meat and lettuce and pancaking them on the table while stabling my fork into a meal I wasn’t going to eat.

Now the thing with large groups of people is that it is always difficult to pay the bill. Someone needs change, someone needs to pay with their visa and someone is always stingy. So when I put in more than enough for my portion I had to seriously break out of this place. The time was now 10:30 and I wasn’t having a good time. Normally, I think it is rude for party of the party to walk away but I have my grandpa’s blood running through me and I have to move. Two hours is more than enough time invested in this Mexican disaster. The workers are now sitting at table around us, rolling up silverware for the next workday. Two members from our original foursome have already booked it. Sara and I batman and robin outta there ready to locate a new bar. The phone rings. One of the members of the party of 5 claims there isn’t enough cash. Obviously math and social responsibility isn’t in there skills set. Drinks plus dinner is going to total much more than what you’ve expected, especially if you’ve been drinking. They’ve asked Sara and I to leave the comfort of the warm car and bring more money inside. Now I have to pay even more for a meal that I didn’t enjoy? Now I’m ticked. I should have brought my sewing machine with because this would have been a great place to smash it.

So I storm in drop some bills and walk out. What I should have done is picked up the bill and helped them count their bills. I most likely came off as a very rude and unlikable, but that line was crossed. I was furious. My furious and Sara driving, we locate our old bartender at a pub called The Bottle. Awesome! I can relax have a beer and talk with my closest friend. It was really the most appropriate way to top of an awful day.