Monday, January 24, 2011

the way back machine and other jewelry related things

i always have a running dialogue with an unseen audience.
it is often completely out of sync with real time and real life.
i had an idea at some point, that I could perhaps skype with one of my dear friends.
it seems like a date almost to do that.
i would have to tame my "nursing home hair".
that which is mildly unwashed, unbrushed, unkempt in so many ways,
and even sort of matted after a particularly odd night of sleep.

during more temperate months, when i drop my 17 yo son to his ortho appointments
i have to stick a mandatory,quick shampoo into my daily upkeep.
even though i do not live anywhere near the office,
its waiting room is always full of folks i have not seen forever
and perhaps have been really happy to have not seen.
providence and outlaying burbs are filled with parents
who think that their kid is the most spectacular ever,
even though sporting a cro-magnon brow,
oddly placed moles with sprouted whiskers,
jelly like physiques and double digit iq's.

oh, the circus is in town every day here.

we, at this house are lucky as can be that our appearances are tempered by youth
(in the kids' cases)
and killer senses of humor.

anyways, back to the nursing home hair... i admit that i am less involved with my appearance than i should be.
really, i am not lying here.

just before xmas, when my husband was being an ultra-stressed out ass,
and i had the onset sense that i was about to be unwillingly house-potted indefinitely.
(can you tell that i just fell in love with the hyphen again?)
i dressed for a long walk to the post office.
my ensemble included a thick floral cotton long sleeved dress, l.l.bean mudboots, my traditional winter sweater
(no coat here...i defy my own maternal sensibilities all the time),
high socks,
and a ripped/overworn/shredding skirt that is sooooo comfy and cozy... and my mittens.

the hubster relented and gave me a ride to the p.o. out of some sense that he still could control the truck's usage.
(he is insane about that truck,,, piece of shit... gas guzzler... rusted out crap-mobile filled with crumpled napkins, tools of his carpenter's trade,
broken boxes of nails in several sizes/finishes etc.
and carefully wound coils of ropes).

i was grateful to get to the post office as it was going to be a long line, it was about to close and it was cold out.
so we went there, he sat in the truck and napped.
i got on an extremely long ,week-before-xmas line to post my things.
the guy ahead of me looked twitchy and dare i say kind of normal?
i suggested that if his needs were small, like just buying stamps, he could use the automatic postal machine just next to us and get the hell out of there.
he did this and would have accepted help from me using it, if i had not become embroiled with a totally insane woman
that had just joined us on line.
she was there with her adorable little 2-3 yr. old daughter and a baby in a carrier.
she started to yell at me for not moving out of the doorway and for looking at her strangely.
this was simply not the case.
i had already been on line for 10 minutes and there was only one postal clerk at the counter
... and he is an incompetent.
mind you i do not say this lightly, since i have worked with him many a time.
he was dealing with a person who had never mailed a package before.
so the woman behind me was nasty,insulting and rude beyond words.
i suggested that if she wanted some action from me, to perhaps she might say please.
and then the gloves came off.

she started yelling at me for having attitude and bullying her.(???)
i was so angry i was ready to hit her.
Mentally I went through the entire scene in "HIGH FIDELITY".
a fantastic movie with John Kusack, and many other fantastic ensemble character actors, where in a simple confrontational scene...
John beats the hell out of the character that Tim Robbins plays.
he does this with an old fashioned telephone and an air conditioner wall unit. he pulls it easily in his rage out of the wall to bash tim robbins with.

knowing this was a federal building,
that there were multiple cameras in place,
and it being a real downer for my kids' holiday dreams,
i put the fantasies in their place.
back to being mothballs in my mental attic space.

anyways, i got my stuff posted, since the branch manager had done all that he needed to do, to close up for the night.
he could clerk the line through quickly.
thank heavens.
he handled 6 customers while the less helpful/molasses-filled/knowitall clerk
was still handling the same newbie customer.
i was really upset by this time and wanted to get out of there really badly.
we commiserated about the holiday spirit and bad tempered guests and i was off.

my nearly-napping husband was non-plussed about my fracas and
indelibly unsympathetic.
no shock.
he was really, really shitty for a month or so.
really bad.
really, really bad.
did i say how mean and crazy he was?
really, really bad.
(college tuition was due that week)
(just write the effing check and stop taking it out on me.
you knew this was coming for the past 2 decades.
it is not as if it snuck up on you ok?)

we went to the grocery store , purchased some food, i did banking while there, started to mentally climb in off of the ledge and
then went back homeward.

i realized i was out of my ANTIDEPRESSANT
(yeah i said it... i need HELP, i do not have a housekeeper. so this is really vital for life amongst the savages),
which is essential apparently to my surviving things without firearms
(especially at xmas).

so we went to the pharmacy.
i was on yet another line there and some whacky woman asked if she could cut in front of me and the other 8 people.
she proffered that she did not need to pick up any meds. she just wanted to be in and out of the place.
the woman behind me said NO WAY!
i was succinct and said more reasonably in tone, no i don't think you can.
(i was still smarting from my earlier interactions with the crazy factor).
the line started to rumble behind me, and the line cutter went to the back end of it.
i got my prescription and headed out.
now i neglect to say, i was having hot flashes and took my sweater off while i was on line.
i did this so that i could stand my own chemistry and thermal inconsistencies.
i was still wearing my ratty skirt and boots and looked a mess.
i had dressed for walking in the cold,raw weather; not for glamour.
nor had i any sense that i might need to peel off any clothing layers while waiting for my life to ensue in an off-line manner.
as i walked out to go home,
the line-cutter poked her head over the aisle to ask me if
"she had helped me recently at Crossroads".
i looked at her and said i was absolutely sure she had not.

effing A!!!!!!!!

Crossroads is our local homeless shelter.
Between the lines full of grumpy holiday people,
the costume i was wearing,
my hair tied up in an unruly but efficient bun,
my refusal to tint my hair from its transitional salt and peppery state,
and all else going on, i finally kind of lost it.
i told hubby about this latest interchange and he said,
" well you do look awful".
NICE huh?
i went home told "thing 2" and "thing 1".
(this is what my nearly 20 yr old daughter calls
her 17 yo brother and almost 14 yo sister.
Harsh words from a girl that is as much to tend to, as a super sarcastic houseplant.)

T2 looked at me and said,
"well what did you expect mom, its just Cranston".
Cranston is our neighboring town,
and it is filled with what may be the jersey shore off-casts.
what a nightmare. and of course, tess was spot on about it all. it really is just cranston.


Really, i am just a boringly normal housewife who makes jewelry to keep herself happy,buy groceries and stay alive.
I am not some randomly insane person that encourages this nonsense.

As to the statement i make is a couple of things i did this week.

firstly, this was for a fellow house planted mother of 3 located in the UK...


this one was made for a lovely lady in Australia.
Unfortunately, she is incommunicado right now.
I am hopeful that she is well in spite of being in the way of the flooding in her city.


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