Some Stuff

When my mom and baby sister were opening the store this morning, I guess my mother asked my sis if I had called and told her about the new boyfriend. My sister replied that she had talked to me last night, and why else would I be calling her. LOL Gotta love your family, primarily because if we don't love them, no one else probably will.

If I only called my sister to tell her about a new guy, we wouldn't talk for months at a time. Usually it's just a few weeks that we go without talking. She is so busy with the store and trying to keep staff that she's there most of the time. I've added the store number to speed dial if that's any indication of where I talk to her most of the time these days.

My mom wasn't working last night when I called her, so I assumed my sister has the store fully staffed, at least for the moment. After talking with my sis, I found that there are enough teenagers on hand to sort of take care of the customers. My sister and my brother-in-law had taken a well-deserved evening off and gone out to dinner without the girls. Jason's only criteria for the restaurant - some place that did not have chicken nuggets on the menu and did serve wine. They had opted for the Columbus Fish Market. Nice choice.

I think I may have to take Mr. "So Who Is He?" there for the blackened salmon spinach salad since he tells me he doesn't like salmon. I don't think he's ever had salmon other than the mushed up stuff that comes out of a can that is sworn to be salmon; I remain doubtful of that assertion.

I didn't get to talk with Dee for long. She had to go close the store, and Mr. "He Who Shall Remain Nameless Until Such Time As I Deem Suitable" was calling after work. (He's a co-worker and though none of my fellow employees read this blog, so far as I know, I'm not that difficult to find on the net. If I can google myself and find me, so can anyone else. And, it's sort of a mutual agreement that we aren't ready to be busted-out at work. As I've stated before, the grapevine is effective and for what it may lack in factual details, it more than makes up for in quantity and imagination.) Dee did get a chance to tell me of the Thursday night "it's always an adventure with the teenagers working" moment. One of the teenagers couldn't get the new container of milk opened, so she opened it with her teeth in front of a whole bunch of customers. The girl couldn't understand why everyone would be so upset about that. The girl in question would happen to be the daughter of our cousin, my mother's great niece. I had to laugh, knowing where the fucked-up DNA leading to that particular "hilligan" behavior came from. I told Dee I had been telling the boyfriend about Mom's side of the family, and that I refer to them collectively as "those people." Really, they aren't bad people. They're from the mountains of eastern Tennessee, so you just can't take them anywhere. That does include the ones who no longer live in the mountains. For instance, one cousin from that side of the family who lives here applied for SSI Disability due to cardiac problems. The person at the social security office said getting him qualified for disability would be no problem, based on the developmental disabilities alone. My cousin replied in apt fashion, "I don't want disability because I'm retarded. I want disability because of my heart." Those people... Please refer to the initial statement above regarding why it is that we have to love our families.

About this guy person. You know, I've dated men of all sorts of ethnicities. Hispanic - to include Mexican, Puerto Rican, and from the US, German, British, Filipino, African American, Swedish, Persian, Sicilian. I've even managed to date a few caucasian and caucasian/mixed American guys along the way, believe it or not. The ex-husband is Cajun, so I'm not sure he counts in that particular statistic or merits his own category altogether.

This particular guy is another first. My first African boyfriend. He's well-spoken, quiet, thoughtful - essentially, everything that I'm not. He's intelligent, warm and has a sublime sense of humor - intriguing and with depth. How did I manage to get that lucky? It's funny how you know someone for a year and then just suddenly realize that they're there and what they're all about. In some ways, he is so African. It's both endearing and amusing to me. In spite of the American education and being immersed in American culture, he retains certain aspects of his cultural identity and background. He went to work the other day wearing blue and green plaid shorts and a red and blue striped golf shirt. All I could think was, "omg, you are sooooo African." It was wonderful. And just FYI, no, I wouldn't think of asking him to change. I've seen the closet full of suits and have seen photos. The man does look sharp dressed up, but he looks best just being himself. What came to my mind as an after thought (and this is just because I spend way too much time watching DVDs with the kiddos) was the line from the Jimmy Neutron movie after the parents had been kidnapped by aliens and the kids were enjoying their newly found freedoms, Shane singing and dancing in the street, "My clothes don't match. My clothes don't match. I'm out in public and my clothes don't match." From the woman who wears black, not out of angst but simply because I'm too lazy to color-coordinate my wardrobe, "Here! Here!"

So, the quest for the new job begins in earnest. I'd rather be able to keep our relationship than keep my job, which I dearly love. It is only because I do love the people that I serve that I've delayed this long in looking for something else due to the on-going issues with the rheumatoid arthritis. Personal relationships and work are generally a bad combination to begin with, but our workplace is lethal to them. What everyone isn't able to find out about your business, they freely speculate and embellish, even if they personally know the truth to be otherwise. We had one girl, who knows her co-worker is decidedly straight comment when asked if the co-worker was lesbian, reply, "She's gay. She just won't admit it." There's still an ass-kicking due down the line from that particular tidbit. That's why we're keeping this as far away from work as possible. The less people know or think they may know, the better off things will be until I'm out of there. Just when I'm finally about to be eligible for FMLA, too. Doesn't it just figure?

I'm not sure what it is that I want to do. I've been thinking about this for several months now. I just don't know. Other than doing my art, I'm undecided. As self-employment offers no health care benefits, I have to maintain a "real job" of some sort in the interim until I'm able to afford to purchase a policy of my own. COBRA really isn't an option from my current job. The insurance is expensive and pretty well sucks. It's better than having no insurance at all, but it's not worth the expense to COBRA it. I do need to make sure and get new glasses before I exit, though. A visit to the dentist probably wouldn't be a bad thing either, but I've got that pain-instilled fear of the dentist thing lurking in my brain that will probably prevent that from happening.

I'm still left with not knowing what sort of job to search for. My only criteria and limitation is that it really does need to be a desk job. I guess I'll check the newspaper and the online listings tomorrow.

I'm doing a bit better mental health-wise. I'm on Celexa which contains the same SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor) as the Lexapro for the depression but also another drug which helps with the anxiety. It's also available in a generic and is covered by the insurance, so it's far more affordable to me. Most days I don't think about suicide, so I see that as improvement. I'm also eating a bit more. I still don't have much of an appetite, but at least I will generally feel hungry at some point during the day. So much for those weeks of 3 to 5 pound weight loss... Guess I'll just have to go back to making healthy food choices and continue to lose weight the right way. Damn!

It's time for me to hop my happy self into the shower and head out to do an afternoon of sweating in the coin laundry. A couple of more episodes of this and I may finally have the motivation to contort myself on the concrete in the basement and replace the drive belt on the washing machine. Maybe. LOL