Why I'm like this...
Hello my lovelies,
I'm in a contemplative mood these days. For those of you that just felt your sphincter tighten at the sight of those words all I can say is, damn you people know me too well. Oh and YES, Townsend, "contemplative" does translate directly as TOO MUCH TIME IN MY OWN HEAD!
I read an article this week theorizing that we subconsciously sabotage ourselves when things seem to be going too well. I sort of believe that is true. I think we do have a tendency to get in our own way and unintentionally (sometimes even intentionally) screw things up. I can certainly look back on times in my life where I see that I have done precisely that. This time, however, I don't think I caused this, but now my busy brain can't seem to stop churning. Here it goes…..
I recently heard from a high-school classmate inquiring if I was alright because she heard that I might be going to jail. WTF! Are you kidding me? Apparently, one of my idiot siblings started a rumor that I'm being investigated, because Ray's death was suspicious. I haven't spoken to that bitch since my aunt's funeral in July 2016. FWIW, she is the hairy, bearded wildebeest that wore a strappy yoga top with dress(ish)-pants and flip flops (displaying her nasty-ass toenails) to a funeral. (FYI -for those of you that weren't on my email list before I posted that coffee on the site this morning as well. It's called "Mysteries of the universe") You might remember that NONE of my six living siblings attended Ray's memorial service. Fine, I have no issue with that. We are not close and I'm not in the camp of let's put the "fun" in funeral, which, to these people means a church potluck with nasty ham and numerous varieties of jello-salad. (BLECH - I seriously almost vomit just typing the words jello-salad) I think, that since these people don't really know me or anything that is going on in my life, they should all shut the F*UP, but somehow that doesn't seem to be happening.
You're probably asking yourself what the point of that little diatribe was. Well, this seems to be the latest episode propelling my mental loopty-loops and NaNet has been imploring me to write about my family because she'd heard the stories so many times and things it is worthy of archive. I suspect it's secretly a way of making her feel better about her own overflowing cuppa familial chaos, but either way here is the story of why I am like this…. (NOTE - I'm the youngest of EIGHT kids, so grab a beverage and get comfortable this is gonna take a while.)
Full disclosure, this is probably going to be more painful than funny, but I have to do something to get out of this spiral and writing is therapy for me. Thank you all for serving as my unpaid therapists!
My parents, Bill and Doris, were both poor kids from farming communities 10 miles apart. One day the wheel broke on my mom's covered wagon, just kidding, that's not actually how it happened. Turns out my dad had the hots for my mom's sister. (FWIW I'm sort of the little protégé of aunt Delores, that woman is a high-energy, prank-playing spitfire. She has macular degeneration and is legally blind, so she stalked the DMV office in her little town until the young girl was gone, because she knew she could convince the old lady that worked there to renew her license. It worked! I LOVE HER! Full disclosure I realize that a blind woman driving is probably not a great idea, but the ingenuity and perseverance of stalking the DMV to make it happen is awesome.) Delores had ZERO interest in my dad, but my mom was sorta cute and totally available, so Bill settled for her. Aw, ain't love grand!
Bill and Doris got married the day after she turned 18, because my dad swore he wanted to get married on a Sunday rather than a Saturday. Right! Then 13 short months later she popped out the first of the eight f*d up children they would produce. Within six years Doris would birth four more kids - three boys and two girls. Holy fukstix that poor woman had FIVE kids in SEVEN years. She was only 25-years old, with FIVE kids. F I V E! OMG - hearing stories from all of you about how challenging it is with two or three I can't even imagine why anyone would keep doing that. Hands down Doris is the toughest woman I've ever known in my life. She was not a sweet, loving, doting mother, but that bitch could get shit done! Often this was accomplished by bossing other people around rather than actually doing the work, but it got done. Oh yeah, Doris was also a hoarder. If you've seen the show with houses where they have crap piled everywhere and little more than a path to walk through, that's pretty much how I grew up. She was a depression era baby and never knew when she might need that thing again, so she kept it. We were also ridiculously poor, so she probably couldn't afford to buy a new whatever it was, though when she needed that thing, there was little chance in hell of her actually finding it. Enough about that yuckiness, why don't I give you a rundown of my siblings.
I wish I could say that I was switched at birth and that I don't really belong in this group of misfits, but sadly, that's not the case. Since my parents are both dead I am willing, however, to put myself up for adoption if you know any family that is interested in adopting a mostly functional (or at least able to fake it most of the time) 44-year old with decent earning potential, a whole lotta baggage and a closet full of fabulous shoes. Hmmmmm no takers. Wierd! Maybe I'll try Craigslist.....
Susan Joy (we all have a J middle name, isn't that sweet - eye-roll) married to Floyd. Twice! Susan is almost 18-years older than me. I was born on the day she graduated from high school. She and dipshit got married within the first year I was alive and they almost immediately started popping out screwed up, intellectually inferior little rodents. Their oldest, Paul, is only two-years younger than me. After they had three kids together, Floyd decided to leave the marriage. He, a 30-something assclown, left with a girl, just out of high-school, ran off to Nebraska and had two filthy little beasts together. When the youngest of those kids was still a baby he came back to Susan, with the kids. It's weird that when mom goes to prison the only options are the idiot sperm donor or the foster system. Not sure that sperm donor was the best candidate in this case. Susan and Floyd remarried, and had one more kid. Fast forward a few years to Thanksgiving 1997, Susan had just gotten her CDL, so she and prince dumbdumb were going to head out and be over-the-road truck drivers together. During that dinner Floyd announced that since "Mama got her license" he wanted us all to call them by their handles. We were instructed to call him Phantom, because his CB handle is Phantom 309 and her Mama, because her handle is Mama Teddy Bear. (FWIW they are still truck drivers and those are still their handles) Probably not too surprising to learn that I responded with a curse-word laden response indicating that I would continue to call her Susan and him Floyd, because I didn't give an eff about their handles and those are their actual names. Doris didn't allow cursing, ever. Meh, I was over it and luckily I had a residence to return to, so I took a plate of leftovers, threw my bag in my car and returned to Fort Collins. As for the six kids that they had, as a result from a couple of arson charges and a sexual abuse allegation, or actually four, all of those kids became wards of the state. Good news - every single one of those hoodrat kids procreated! Yeah, those are the seeds we needed to spread. The children of my idiot sister and the jackass she married twice now have, at least, 12-children among them. Isn't human reproduction magical....and that's how Donald Trump got elected!
Ricky Joe - his legal name is actually Ricky, poor guy! This is one of the two siblings I actually like. Rick lives in Texas and has an amazing wife. I adore Amy, given the option I would give Rick back, but I would totally keep Amy. My dad kicked Rick out of the house the end of his junior year, so Rick couch surfed throughout his senior year then joined a religious cult and we didn't hear from him for about 10 years. He and Amy have been married for 25+ years, they have three kids and two grandkids. Amy is an Occupational Therapist and Rick is her freeloading husband, who occasionally takes on menial jobs and babysits the grandkids a lot. Their oldest daughter, Hannah and her husband bought a house on 3-acres with an artist studio in Waco, TX. Rick and Amy live in the artist's studio and they are planning to put a modular house on the other side of the main house for Nolan's parents, so they can have a family compound. I'm happy that they love their kids and grandkids, but that shit is weird. I have no idea why children would want to live next door to their parents (and in laws) or why parents would want their kids that close.
Leland Jay - this is my favorite brother. We aren't very close anymore, but we've always had a special bond. Lee used to use me to pick up girls in high school. In fact, when I was leaving my job at IHS a few years ago, I had coffee with Polly Plum only to learn that she was one of the girls that my brother used to hit on. Come on her name is Polly Plum, can you be anything other than adorable with a name like Polly Plum. She is super sweet, sadly, that's not who Lee married. He married Kay. Kay is tiny. She's only 4' 10" tall and weighs 85 lbs. The only time in her life she weighed over 100 pounds was when she was pregnant with her two kids. Kay talks endlessly about being tiny. She constantly talks about how little she eats and how small her shoes are and on and on and on. Seriously, we can see you. We know that you are tiny, I also know that I am a giant fat-ass, now can we please stop talking about this. Lee and Kay have two kids, Josh and Amanda. These are definitely the favorites of my 18 nephews and nieces, but even with that we are not close. I talk to Amanda maybe once a year and Josh only when I we were at family functions together and since my parents are both dead now, we don't do those any more. Oh yeah and both Josh and Amanda have three kids. Josh is the father of all three, but Amanda's kids have three different daddies. I am from one fertile family. It's with good reason that I've been on some form of birth control continuously since I was in college.
Sandra Jean - Oh lord, where do I start with this one. Sandy is an odd bird. I suspect that she was dropped, repeatedly, as a baby. She is hideous! I know that sounds terrible, but I will find a picture and prove it if necessary. She wears overly revealing, ill-fitting clothes, copious amounts of blue and purple eye-shadow and she has no teeth. Not sure exactly why, but they all fell out. She has dentures, but they don't fit right, so she doesn't wear them. Fun fact, when you don't have teeth that little pink V between your two front teeth begins to sag and then you have a hangy-down thing that flaps when you talk. EEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWW it's seriously repulsive. Sandy has been married a few times, one divorce, one just disappeared (she was able to get that marriage annulled) and the most recent odd-fellow was killed when the mail truck he was driving collided with a grain truck. That was heartbreaking! This incredibly strange woman finally found someone equally as strange as her and after only a few of years of what seemed to be a blissful marriage, he was killed.
William Jeff - he goes by Jeff. Jeff is an idiot. He's the brother that called to cry on my shoulder about his divorce, that happened five years ago, the week I was planning Ray's memorial service. Jeff has three kids, through he gave up parental rights to the first one during a nasty divorce. The other two are sweet girls. I enjoy seeing them on the rare occasion that I do, but I don't go out of my way to keep in touch with them. Jeff, however, if I never see him again that will be fine with me!
Peggy Jane - sadly, Peggy died of a massive heart attack at 38-years old. She left behind a deadbeat moron of a husband and three kids, with three different daddies. Peggy meant well, but she was socially awkward and painfully shy. She worked at Wal-Mart for 20+ years before her death. Her kids seem to be doing OK, but I don't hold out hope that any of them will accomplish much in their lives.
Pamela Jill - Ray use to call Pam, Chia-Pam because he always swore that she could grow a full beard faster than any man on the planet. Pam moved out of my parents house for 6-months, got knocked up and moved back home where my parents helped raise her daughter, who now lives in the home that I grew-up in with her mom. When my mom died she left the house and all of the mounds of hoarded crap to Pam. That is the best gift I've ever received in my life. Not having to deal with that house, that crap or that idiot is more precious than all the stuff in the world!
Finally, Ronda Joan - I'm not sure exactly when or how, but fortunately I realized at a fairly early age that I had to get out! As I said before Doris was not a kind, sweet, caring mother. She was weeks away from her 38th birthday when I was born and she had no energy for a pain in the ass teenage and menopause at the same time. I have one of those vivid childhood memories when I was probably 16-years old, arguing that my curfew wasn't late enough and in an exasperated torrent told me that it was fine for me to stay out as late as I wanted, all she needed me to do was not get knocked up, graduate from high school and get out, so that's exactly what I did!
I'm now nearly nine months into my new big-girl life. There are aspects of this new world that are so amazing that I can't believe it's even real and there are parts of this that are so lonely and scary and empty that I can't imagine how I am even going to survive. Lucky for all of you right now, rather than worrying about any of that I need a shower and some food. I've consumed a lot of coffee while composing coffee, but I despise the grocery store, so aside from a can of tomatoes and a box of dry pasta I don't really have many options.
Until next time…
XOXO
PS -- In case any of you are concerned about the whole investigation crap being even remotely true I can assure you it is NOT. The day I found Ray, I was very definitely interrogated and rightfully so, there was a dead 47-year old man on the couch in the living room! However, I don't think I was ever really suspected of anything and two days later when I received the call from the coroner, informing me that his heart was huge and that Cardiomegaly was the cause of death I most certainly was NOT considered a suspect. Moreover, when I got the call in late January that toxicology had come back negative any remaining doubt was gone. It's repulsive and so incredibly hurtful to think that anyone would be so callous as to start a rumor like that. People SUCK!
PPS -- I seriously thought staying off of Facebook would protect me from having to ever associate with anyone from high school, but somehow stories about dead husbands are cannon fodder to asshats in small towns…. OH, and they do love their prayer chains!
PPPS - my stupid spellcheck wants to autocorrect ASSHAT to SASHAY. I think my spellcheck needs a lesson in why I'm like this!