Less Traveled By Makes All The Difference

Ugh. Why do I stay up until 2 in the morning like some socially-deprived, no-eye-shadow-until-you’re-17, home-schooled teenager? It’s likes Bill Cosby talks about in his classic Himself routine. Adults bitch about going to work all week, counting minutes until the weekend; then they spend those two days completely destroying themselves.

Yeah.

Not that I stayed out all night doing Jello shots and dancing to The Devinyls or anything. It’s more that I try to CRAM as much as I can into two days. Then I go back to work and feel like I didn’t really get a break. My ex father-in-law, the pussy-whipped ever-cheerful workaholic, used to say a vacation or day off simply meant a break from the normal routine. As in if your normal routine was hammering up drywall, a vacation could consist of manually masturbating hamsters and ferrets for genetic research. Annoying. I always wanted to whack him in the face with a large cucumber.

ANYhoo…Thursday night was dinner at the Melting Pot with my folks, where I found my new favorite concoction- the Gummi Bear. ::salivates::

Friday night I taught tap. Awesome, actually. My “girls” know the entire 42nd Street audition routine and we still have a month to polish other steps before TMM rolls around. Not to mention it’s kicking my ass into shape. Came home, read, watched T.V., fell into blissful, comatose state interrupted frequently by my dachsie Sadie’s strategically-placed cold nose.

Slept late in Saturday with a migraine (late = 9:00). Cleaned for 3 and half hours. And not wussy-pussy cleaning like dusting the coffee table. We’re talking rug shampooing and vacuuming baseboards and ceiling fans here, people. I think my inner Monica actually got off a couple times somewhere in there. Then Andy and I dropped by to help my bro and his wife with their move in. After which we stopped by the new Irish pub in Frisco for a drink and received the worst service EVER from annoying twigs in schoolgirl uniforms. ::gunshot:: THEN it was off the our first West Coast Swing dance class (FABulous); home to change and off to a party for an ex co-worker. ::sigh:: No. Not done. Add on the late showing of ‘27 Dresses’ (James Marsden is pure hotness) and finally to good ol’ TGIF for a drink and naughty snack that I might as well have glued directly to my right thigh.

Now it’s 1:53 in the morning. I’ve taken my Melatonin and am sitting here with the Muppet (my wire haired dachshund that looks like, well, a Muppet…or a dog a Muppet might have) in my lap watching Andy play a video game where some guy seems to run endlessly across a field looking for swords or crystals or some shit.

Tomorrow I will spend half the day getting ready for Monday and the other day depressed and pissed off that the weekend’s almost over. Score.

But hey… at least I can do a double wing time step. So take that. Nyah!

(Yes, I’m a bit punchy. I think it’s the Melatonin. Or the Gummi Bear)

‘Night!

Posted by Minxen at 02:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Ross: You know what? I`m going to be happy this year. I`m going to make myself happy.
Chandler: Do you want us to leave the room, or. . .?

Wow, crazy weekend. Lots going on. My mind is just full, it feels like, between the contract-to-hire job, life with the GTF, family; with restlessness about my future endeavors (interpreted: I`m nearly 31), getting in shape, and money, etc., etc. ad nauseum.

The GTF`s surprise 40th birthday dinner at Trader Vic`s went off without a hitch. Everyone showed up on time, the TV staff was more than helpful in making sure GTF had absolutely NO idea both our respective in-town family members and friends were waiting in the back. The maitre`d would signal me each time another person arrived, as GTF and I sat at the incredibly AWESOME tiki bar and drank Mai Tais. When everyone had been seated, he gave me the thumbs up and led us back. YAY!!! It is nearly impossible to surprise the GTF, so I congratulated myself profusely for pulling that one off. Everyone had blast, and we dined like royalty (we better have for that kind of money- GOOD god).

I STILL don`t know about Into the Woods. I thought I had been turned down (by default due to ZERO feedback), what with no word from the director in almost 3 weeks. So I shot her an email thanking her for the opportunity, blah, blah, kiss a little ass, blah. Not 24 hours later, I got a response that basically said (1) she hadn`t even done the adult cast for ITW (there is an adult cast, and a teen cast which the adult cast will mentor), (2) I was still in consideration, and (3) asking if I was still available. SCORE!!!! I told her I was and that although I had 2 auditions coming up (and I do- one tonight and one tomorrow), that ITW was still my first choice (I dearly love this show). Well, that was almost a week ago and still. . .NOTHING. But I have not given up hope yet. I know she is rehearsing two other shows right now (Seussical and High School Musical) and ITW does not even start rehearsing for nearly 2 weeks. But it is driving me INSANE. So. . .send good thoughts for them to HURRY THE HELL UP. And in case anyone cares, my other two auditions are for Lyric Stage Irving (full season including Hello Dolly and Carousel) and Denton CT (Joseph, for which I will only take Narrator).

The 3-month contract portion of my contract-to-hire position in the recruiting field (I have basically started a new career path within the past year) is up in about 2 weeks, and I am nervous. And not because I haven`t done a good job or I don`t like it here or anything. I love it, in fact; I work with a fun bunch of gals, and the company absolutely ROCKS. But my position was a newly-created one, and a lot of whether or not I would go permanent depended on how valuable I made myself. The workload can get crazy (which I like), but the difficult level is pretty low for me, which makes it ideal for being able to become a sponge and soak up as much knowledge as I can about the recruiting industry. As far as things I have control over, I think I`ve done all I can do. But now I`m just nervous over something I have no control over. Useful, huh?

Since thisis the first regular, well-paying job I`ve had since leaving the oil and has business LAST March, my finances took a hit for quite awhile and things were, to say the least, irregular and unsteady. This, my friends, makes me CRAZY. I`m used to having everything under control, on time, don`t have to think about it. It`s always been an area of my life time where my parents didn`t really teach me how to manage money, so my Monica Geller-ish OCD is quite useful. During my ill-dated marriage, I was with someone who could not manage money, and it made me K-razy. As a divorcee, I did great, had everything under control for a while, then the whole job shift thing happened and threw everything off again. Of course, this had to coincide with me moving in with the GTF. This made me feel like even more of a loser because then I just felt like a moocher (even though he makes a ton more than I do, but still). Not many things stress me out more than money problems, and feeling like I`m not pulling my weight. And I find it amazing how long it takes to get truly and fully caught up. I mean geez. Seriously. But. . .it`s finally happening, and I`m at a point where I am ahead on everything again, I can continue to repair my credit (which took a nose-dive when my marriage did) and contribute to Household de GTF so I am no longer a MOOCHING LOSER. Whew. Feels good just to get that all out.

Our garden this year has been such a blessing. This is my second time EVER to do a garden, and I have discovered two things: (1) I managed to inherit a green thumb from both of my grandmothers (one has an acre-long garden in the country, the other can grow anything any vegetable in a pot) and (2) I am becoming quite accomplished at using the digital macro function on my camera to take amazing shots of our produce and flowers. This year we have tomatoes, green beans, cabbage, strawberries, okra, chives, cilantro, parsley, spinach, banana peppers, potatoes, as well as attempting to grow squash and onions. The garden gives me such a sense of accomplishment. It was hard work, as we grew most everything from seeds and managed to bring tomato and strawberry plants through the winter for a second season. We`ve also managed to win a very fierce battle with what I call the Nazi Caterpillar Army that attempted to take over the cabbage. Every day after work, I can look forward to having fresh produce to pick, not to mention dead-heading all of our flowers in order to maximize the blooms.

I`ve been bad about posting photos of our veggies and tropical plants, so I will start to filter them in here and there, much like the ever-talented Leesa. I`ve decided, in order to both maximize the myriad of photos I`ve taken and still stay anonymous, I am creating a photo blog solely for displaying photos of the Grau-Minx Garden 2007. I will start with posting initial planting and first month photos and proceed from there. Yay! Project!

If this all isn`t enough, I have list of what must be 25 things I want to do, from taking a vacation, to getting more involved in photography, to writing music, to living somewhere besides Texas. . .it just goes on and on and on. I know this slightly-manic mindset is coming partly from what has happened with my uncle. It1s like you see someone else`s life cut short and it makes you want to not pass up any opportunities. And sure, it`s overwhelming; but it sure is nice to be wanting to do things again and knowing I have the ability and the time and the good health to do them.

I think I`ll stop rambling now, for those of you still reading (Bravo!).

Ta-ta.

Posted by Minxen at 04:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

My uncle has been sick for two years. With cancer. He had lung cancer, then brain cancer, then liver cancer. He`s been through chemp and radiation and experimental drugs. Last week, it spread to his blood, his bones, and the nerves in his brain and spine. And now he`s dying.

As in right now.

As in tonight.

Monday, they took him off the feeding tube and everything artificial and it looked like he would not make it through the night. Now it`s three days later and he hung on. Hung on long enough for my grandparents to get back here from the Hill Country where he and my dad and thei other sibliings grew up.

He`s dying.

And now I`m praying. Not as much for some awe-inspiring miracle, but for peace. Peace for his embattled, nearly-estranged wife. Peace for his college-age daughter, my cousin. Peace for my grandparents who are losing a son. Peace for my dad who is losing a brother. And peace for me and my brother and my mom and everyone else to understand the magnitude of this, the first untimely loss my big, happy German family has ever suffered.

I mostly think of my grandparents, in their eighties but verile and active, their faith crushed as they wonder why God would take their son. And this song my Mark Schultz comes into my head. And I pray.

I`m down on my knees again tonight
I`m hoping this prayer will turn out right
See there is someone that needs Your help
I`ve done all that I can do myself
His mother is tired
I`m sure You can understnad
Each night as he sleeps
She goes in to hold his hand
And she tries not to cry
As the tears fill her eyes

Can You hear me?
Am I getting through tonight?
Can You see him?
Can You make him feel all right?
If You can hear me
Let me take his place somehow
See, he`s not just anyone
He`s her son

Sometimes late at night she watches him sleep
She dreams of the man he`d like to be
She tries to be strong and see him through
But God who he needs right now is You
Let him grow old
Live life without this fear
What would she be
Living without him here
He`s so tired and he`s scared
Let him know that You're there

Can You hear me?
Can You see him?
Please don`t leave him
He`s her son

Posted by Minxen at 01:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Slang for the day: `squish mitten`
Song on my iPod: The Whisper Song- Ying Yang Twins

Joey: Yeah, London, baby!
Chandler: Got your passport?
Joey: Top drawer in my dresser, wouldn`t wanna lose that.
Ross: Wait for it--
Joey: Oh! Right!
Chandler: There it is.

The GTF and I are looking at going on a…wait for it…vacation. ::shriek:: I know…vacation. ::impromptu break-dance routine:: Thanks to him paying Uncle Sam a bit too much over the past year, it looks like we might be singin` M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E real soon, and I.can`t.wait. Ohmigod. The last real vacation I went on (a.k.a., more than 3 days and more than 1,000 miles from home, preferably out of the country at some point) was my honeymoon in 2001. Yes. Very sad. So, needless to say, I`m a bit ecstatic. About to pee in my pants really.

So--

I have officially been on my new (realistic) workout routine for 2.7 weeks. And WOW, what a difference it`s made. Okay no, I haven`t lost 20 pounds or bought new jeans or anything. But with the balance of running, the elliptical, and weight training (focused on my triceps, stomach, back, butt, and upper thighs) my clothes are fitting better, my appetite is under control, and I have a lot more energy. I actually don`t feel good unless I workout. Not to mention -- ENDORPHINS! I ::heart:: endorphins, they are my new best friends. I want to brush their hair and buy them presents. It`s amazing how exercising makes you more positive about, well, exercising. Okay, about everything really.

I`m not gonna go all weirdo, clam worshipping Scientology on you, but just working out has done wonders in dispelling my depression, in further boosting my self-confidence and determination to get things done and set out to reach goals I had quite honestly just about thrown in the towel on. It`s a drug-- a drug, I tell you!

Okay yeah, so it`s been a beating lugging my ass out of the sleep number bed and managing to stumble into workout pants and a sports bra without falling down. But I do enjoy the smooth, quiet ride to work in the early morning darkness. I enjoy the solitude of a good workout- just me and the iPod. I even enjoy the damn good locker room showers and being able to walk out the door and across the street to my office. Mostly though, I enjoy having positive thoughts and enough energy to get through the work day without the typical 2 p.m. after-lunch crash into caffeine oblivion. Ooh! I also enjoy my ass being smaller and quarter-bouncing worthy.

So, I have found a couple new authors. One is in response to my love for everything David Sedaris has written (or said or thought). Seriously love that man`s work. I`ve read all of his books at least twice and listened to many of his on-air readings and commentaries (Me Talk Pretty One Day is my fave). His sarcastic, often-in-your-face humor about childhood and family (and the effects of illegal drugs and raging OCD) are not easily matched. BUT-- this southern gal sure is giving it a shot. Her name is Susan Reinhardt, and her book is Not Tonight Honey, Wait `Til I’m A Size 6. Hi-friggin-larious. One critic does in fact call her `the Southern woman`s answer to David Sedaris`. And since picking up Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim more than three years ago (and the rest of his catalog soon thereafter), I`ve been waiting for someone to match Sedaris` level of intelligent hilarity. I think Susan gets pretty damn close, telling tales of everything from her over-sexed pet dachshund to her husband nicknamed `Tidy Stu` to her `grumpy vagina`. Awesome. Also by Reinhardt- Don`t Sleep with a Bubba: Unless Your Eggs are in Wheelchairs.

I think that`s all for the day. But OOH! First audition since La Mancha is tonight…get ready for this-- a PLAY. WOW.

So yeah. Ciao.

Posted by Minxen at 03:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Song on the iPod: `Lover, Lover` - Shaggy
Song in my head: `What Might’ve Been` – Little Texas

Actual conversation at work yesterday:

Co-worker: Wow, why are your arms so scratched up? Do you have cats?
Me: No, we did a bunch of yardwork.
Co-worker: With cats?

Ha! Anyway-- onto things.

My ex-husband is getting remarried.

There.

I said it.

Wow, for some reason just typing it makes it finally seem real.

So. Yeah. He`s getting remarried. In less than two months. Seriously! On my dad`s (and my boyfriend`s) birthday. I`ll bet my left boob most of you men right now are thinking (not to be sexist) yeah so, you left him, big deal, not your problem, he needs to get laid, get over it already, yes?

But women, c`mon. Back me up here. No matter how dysfunctional the marriage, how bad the breakup, how horrible his porn addiction - or pick your favorite flaw- there`s still that squeaky little voice in my head that keeps urging me to get wasted, sing bad karaoke, and puke into my hair. Am I right?

It`s not that I want him back. It`s not even that I miss him or think I made a bad decision. Hell no. In fact, I know I made the right decision. And okay sure, I had some guilt over dumping a man I was with for over 10 years-- notwithstanding the mountain of crap I put up with, long story for another time or look back in my archives. I worried about him, didn`t want for him to be alone, didn`t want him to miss me-- but--

It`s him. He was my first love, my husband. And I know, I know- it takes two to tango. Ugh, here comes the cliche monster, roar. but it’s just - weird.

I guess there`s this twinge of Wow, he`s actually over me. He`s actually moved on. Never mind that he moved on with a thin, blonde stick insect named Brittany with these ginormous boobs she`s waiting until their wedding night to share plentifully with my ex husband. I wish I didn`t feel like he traded up; not that I`m a fat but small-breasted rhinoceros named Broomhilda. Because I`m not. But still- just-- ugh. bangs head on desk

Part of it too is that I thought I would remarry before he would. Call it competitive. Which just sounds stupid, because I`m not ready to marry again quite yet. We`re blissfully taking our time, we have a plan. Kind of. And also, I`m happy, dammit. I really am. Happier than I`ve ever been, both in my relationship and life in general. I have the man of dreams. Oh. my. god. And if it hadn`t been for how my relationship went south with my ex, we wouldn`t have met.

And the GTF made a good point. I know, SHOCKER. I don`t have to worry about my ex anymore. He`s not my problem anymore. He`s not alone, he`s not pining, he`s not bitter. Perhaps now I can finally get the horrible image of the last time I saw him out of my head—he`s sitting on our couch, holding my dog that he ended up keeping. He`s crying so hard he`s hiccupping and gasping, begging me not to leave while my dog whines pitifully, wondering where I`m going as I turn my back and walk out the door.

Guilt. Awful guilt.

Not. my. problem. anymore. Though he does still have my awesome place settings and pots and pans and that pisses me off. Oh, and speaking of that, could they have registered for uglier sh-t? Blah blah blah. White this, cream that, silver this. Whatever. La la la, to quote my Will. He`s not alone, I`m not alone. Everything is good and right with the world.

So yeah. Over it. I`m fine.

On to more important stuff, like the kick ass fitness center my new company has. Holy CRAP!

So here`s the thing. After working for one agonizing year in the psychotic manager crapholes that are small companies, boy did I forget about the glorious wonders of bloated, rat raced corporate America. It`s a beautiful thing, folks. Giant cubicles, company-issued laptops, kick ass health insurance, bonuses-- and freakin` AWESOME gyms!

I`m in a contract to hire recruiting position, so even though I`m still in my contract period - 90 days, BLAH!! - I can workout in a fully equipped gym 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. We`re talkin` stairmasters, elipticals, bikes, treadmills, free classes, plus a full weight room. Score!!

Since my hours are 830 to 530 (icky Dallas traffic and I`m one scary b-tch), I can still get up at the reasonable hour of 6 am, throw on functional but modest (a.k.a. no mega black hole cleavage) work out clothes, and head out with my bag and clothes for the day. I`m at the office and on the elliptical with my iPod and NikePlus 25 minutes later! I`m already feeling better, happier, more energetic.

Okay, sure, so it requires my OCD to kick in a bit and plan my outfits, organize my shower and hair and makeup kits. But it`s worth it. Plus, my OCD has more important things to worry about - like putting away winter clothes and bringin` out the sundresses and tank tops - and organizing them by color. Yeah. Shut up. Yay! ::happy dance::

So yeah. Kick ass gym. Corporate America, I only have one thing to say - MWAH!!!!

::sigh::

Grrr, topic number 3. The dying uncle. I have a dying uncle. In the past 18 months, he`s battled and beaten stage 4 lung cancer and stage 2 and 3 brain cancer with endless chemo (and despite plenty of bad attitude). He`s alienated his wife, his daughter, his oldest brother (aka my dad), and everyone else that tries to convince `mind over matter` has proven to work over and over and over again, especially in people with terminal diseases. And now he is terminal. Really terminal. Stage 4 liver cancer terminal.

Of course, my doomsayer, might-as-well-be-planning-his-funeral grandparents aren`t helping. Constantly praying over him, asking about his `financial affairs` and crying like blubbering idiots.

I`m sorry, I probably sound incredibly insensitive. Children aren`t supposed to die before their parents. It`s horrible. My grandparents are almost in their nineties (able-bodied, yes); they are simply, country people who have had their long-in-place faith in God shaken to its core. Never mind my uncle has never been able to catch a break what with divorce and debt and that`s another long story.

But it`s getting ridiculous. They don`t even trust my dad (who lives an hour away vs the 5 hours my grandparents drive every week to see him), much less my uncle`s WIFE to take care of him. They convinced him to leave all his money to his spoiled daughter (my cousin, sorry, but she is) instead of his wife (who only gets the house that desperately needs upgrading and the veterinary business that`s flailing terribly since he got sick).

The whole situation just makes me mad, and with the stress my parents have had between my dad`s job and the house (yet another looooong story akin to sticking epidural-size needles in one`s eyes), it`s the last thing they need.

Let me paint ya a little picture. We all gathered out at my uncle`s house last week to celebrate his birthday (sans his daughter. Yeah.) The cousins (and our respective significant others) had good laughs. Good food. But there was this somber air about the whole thing, what with my skin-and-bones, bald, pale uncle barely to get out of his chair and my grandmother and aunt weeping over saying grace, over the sausage and German chocolate cake, over the birthday cards - ugh.

Oh my, the cards. Do you know how hard it is to find a card for a `dying` (my grandmother`s word) person that won`t offend anyone? I mean, considering your audience in that situation is like trying to plan a holiday party at the United Nations. Someone`s just plain gonna be pissed off. The card can`t mention anything about `next year` or `lasting this long` or `for a long time to come. Nothing like `at least you`re over the hill and not under it!` What about the cute frog who says `You`re how old? Wow! At least you haven`t croaked!` Oops. Bzz! Wrong answer! Nor does a dog crapping in the backyard as a birthday gift or the crotchety old lady spitting out the candles come across as particularly side splitting at a time like this. And I`m sorry, but the sappy `You`re that one special uncle who makes everyone feel loved` would just be a bloated line of crap. So I`m reduced to a pair of pink female sheep wearing birthday hats, the front of the card reading “Happy Birthday”, the inside stating “Two ewe”. The end.

Again, call me insensitive, but it`s just a bad situation all around. When all I really want to do is stand on a chair and scream `What is this, a pre emptive wake? Just bop him over the head with a large frying pan and put him out of his misery!` What he really needs is laughter, love, and positive thoughts. But no. Not gonna happen. And it makes me sad.

But despite dying uncles and remarrying ex husbands (and a bit because of kick ass gyms) life is good.

Stay tuned for pics of the Wienie Queen (my dachshund, dirty people!), our garden, and our fabulously retro hot dog cooker (yes, we`re dorks)

Ciao.

Posted by Minxen at 10:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)