Happy New Year! Where's the booze?

Well hello there. How are you? Miss me?

So, I'm being a little less than honest when I say that I've tried to be diligent with the blogging. It's been kind of a rocky year. But I came through, happily, unscathed. On to better things.

The cruise is coming up (roaring up more like), and still not beach body ready, but I'm attempting to get closer to my goal after a prolonged plateau. But I'm sick of talking about weight loss, so let's talk about something else.

How about how I learned I might be a bulldog in the right situation? It turns out that I can be fiercely loyal and can't stand it when others are mistreated. That's a recipe for potential disaster in the workplace. Let me elaborate:

My co-worker, who is also my friend, was very wrongly coached (that's Wal-Mart speak for being written up) for not doing something that she DID do. I can't go into details due to proprietary info and the like. Suffice it to say that she did the work she was supposed to, then coached for not doing it by our overzealous (and really quite young and potentially immature) new manager. Despite the plethora of evidence to the contrary, she went ahead and coached my friend anyway. Now, even though she's a lot older than our manager, my friend is rather shy and timid, so she didn't defend herself. I couldn't abide this sort of treatment, so I offered my vociferous objection (angrily might I add). Granted, I didn't get in trouble, but I think it's obvious that she knows that I have very little respect for this manager (who I will call AMB). I'm sorry, but if you are going to step on people, make quick and unwarranted accusations, you better be ready for those consequences. This is the second time this has happened around me. The next time, I'm going over her head.

Now, on to a little year in review.

I did quite a bit of family history research this year, and because of this, I've been in contact with several distant cousins. It turns out, my fifth great-grandfather on my dad's side was a British Loyalist who was enlisted with the British army and ended up being run out of what became the US and ended up in Canada. So, that's why my paternal grandfather's family was from Canada. Some interesting history on my mom's side too. My sixth great-grandfather was a master on a sloop that traveled to the West Indies during the American Revolution to procure salt. His son fought in the War of 1812 and is believed to have died from either an injury sustained during the war or an illness that he caught during that time. He died before he met his youngest son, my fourth great-grandfather, as he was born after that.

I think that the most interesting thing that I've taken from all this searching is that I had no idea how extensive my family's history in this country was. I guess I always thought that because of the few branches that I knew came over in the latter part of the 19th century, that my whole family hadn't been here that long. It turns out that I have pilgrims on both sides of my family, with one, that I know of, being a founding member of a church that started in Rhode Island and a couple of its towns. Who knew?

I never knew my great-grandfather Betts' first name because he was estranged from the family, and I was able to locate that and learn so much of my family as a result. I never knew that another great-grandfather had siblings (all sisters) and that they were older than him and had families that I may be able to track down if I get ambitious enough. I was even able to locate his parents' and oldest sister's voyage from Bohemia to the US.

It turns out it takes a lot of people to make you - parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, great-great-grandparents, etc. Double the amount with each generation back. It's amazing.

That has to be the best thing about 2010. I have a greater sense of myself because I have a greater sense of my family. And that will only become more clear this year, with more research and more connecting.

I wish you all the same this year.

She's rumored to be single...

I met my friend Danielle the other day to discuss shore excursions for the upcoming cruise (in February). We hadn't seen each other in a while, so a little catching up was in order. She's seeing a new guy. This is a good thing. She'd been with the same guy for over a decade, with it leading to nowhere. After her wise decision to move on, she didn't wallow in loneliness or bitterness [insert well-thought-out Sam joke here]. No, she joined a bowling league, spent more time on herself, and started seeing a nice guy. Good for her.

And when the conversation moved on to my niece, and I inevitably started to gush (just a little), she said, "Oh, your biological clock is ticking." God forbid. I was supposed to be the one chick in my age group whose every waking moment wasn't thinking of babies. Procreation has never been an obsession for me. That was a driving force for my sister, but not for me. Nor has it ever been a priority. But then, neither has dating and eventually settling down with a mate. Nope. Sam has been perfectly content with being single.

Now, in the midst of all of my re-evaluating, I have to see that it hasn't been contentment, but rather an overshadowing, pervasive fear of rejection. Everyone wants to be with someone. I'm not really an exception to this. But it's more comfortable to not even try than to live with butterflies in my stomach with first dates, or giving my heart to someone who may not give theirs in return, or having to reject someone myself simply because I don't feel a connection (or attraction for that matter).

Sadly, my mother brings up on practically a daily basis that I'm not getting younger and that if I'm going to provide her with some grandchildren, I better hop to it. My sister is the same way. I keep trying to see it as they just want me to be happy. But it feels more like nagging.

Since Lily was born, I have gradually warmed to the notion that I, too, want my own legacy, a piece of myself to live on through another being (in case the book-writing doesn't work out). The feel of holding a child, loving a child, being the most important thing in their world, and for them to be mine, has a certain appeal. I won't say that I'm driven towards it, but it is a thought that has entered my mind a time or two since my niece entered the world.

Wouldn't it be nice if we could just skip steps and just get to the good parts, and miss all the uncomfortable ones?

On to a related note, I have previously mentioned someone I once liked very much (EC) who kind of burned me, for lack of a better phrase. On third shift, I saw him maybe once every couple months, if that. Now that I'm on first shift, I have to see him all the time. It's not awful. The discomfort of letting the past interfere with my thoughts of him instead of seeing him as a decent human being and not the spawn of Satan has officially passed, and I would hope to be friends with him. At the most. I promise. Still, why does he have to be so nice, and so cute? It's easier to overlook them when they're not that great. I went through a period where it was hard not to think of him. I think I'm finally getting over that. Crushes suck. This one in particular, because it won't lead anywhere.

The past haunts.

Once again, I find myself at one of those junctures where I must decide to revisit some old wound from childhood or let it fall away as if it never existed.

While the incident in question that has raised my curiosity and reservations is no serious thing for many, it is for me only that I am not willing to relive drama that I hoped was gone forever. Not the people necessarily, mind you. But I fear that welcoming someone from my past will cause an undue emotional distress in the long term.

I am speaking of my stepsister, who I will heretofore refer to as H.

Imagine my surprise to receive word from her electronically this evening. I have to admit that there were times when I wondered what happened, where she went, if she moved on from the ultimately abusive childhood she endured to become a well-rounded individual, or if her life was merely a video looping over and over those things most people would gladly forget. Are these things I really want to know, or is this one of those things best left by the wayside...

Without being a giant bitch?

I spoke briefly to my real sister about this situation, and she is more inclined to leave it alone. Why? Because she was just as hurt by H's disappearance, and because she holds these things longer than I do. We rarely hold a conversation about my dad. And I think this might have more to do with the fact that talking about him inevitably leads to talking about the stepmonster. She infiltrates our memories like a demon, overwhelming and horrific. And we did not even experience the worst of that woman's wrath. So, the thought of introducing one of the few bright sides of those childhood experiences into our adult and current lives is less than appealing.

Still, if the past haunts, so does curiosity.

Stay tuned...

Dawdling - yeah, that's right.

I am a little annoyed with Blogger today. I have this really bad habit of wasting time by trying to find other cool or unique or weird blogs. So, I hit the "next blog" button, looking for others, and today, it seems that they just keep providing me the same five or six over and over, until I finally get the point and give up.

I like checking out other blogs. It's fun. I try to give a look-see to most of the ones that I'm following most days. Maybe I should be doing that instead of adding more to the already oversized list of weblogs I'm already following.

Or better yet, get some freakin' work done.

Just a thought.

Update: My sister is reporting that my niece got her first molar in. This weekend, Lily was being especially whiny (and annoying), and Shannon was crabbing at her a little for it. Then she felt bad when she realized that the kid poked another tooth through, and not one of the fun ones. In addition to this, Lily is now officially afraid of bugs. This is funny because this is the same toddler that was previously trying to kiss ladybugs. Now, if a fly lands on her or an ant crawls on her, she freaks out like me when there's a spider in the tub (envision a crazy person running around, arms flailing). She is so unpredictable (Lily, not the crazy person - me). And quickly becoming a girly-girl. I think Shannon was hoping that Lily would be a little tomboyish like she was when she was little. But Lily may change back yet. We'll see.

Thoughts on my childhood summers - part 3

The stepmonster didn't like us being in the house during the summer. So, me, Shannon, and her kids, the twins, were outside most of the day. Some parents would counter that we should be out, playing, taking in the fresh air. Yeah, I get that point. I do. Who wants kids running in and out of the house all day? But seriously, she would kick us out in the morning and not let us back in until shortly before Dad would come home from work, with the exception being the short amount of time we would eat our lunches. And I would turn out looking more like a lobster than a little kid. (Did this woman ever hear of sunscreen? They did have it in the 80's. It's not like it was 1889!)

The stepmonster decided one day that I should be wearing a bra. I was nine. There really wasn't anything there yet. But as was her way, she pushed me to the local discount big box store to buy what would become my first bra (this stupid padded thing that made no sense at the time, and less sense now). I remember when she brought us back home to my mom, her telling us to go inside because she needed to have a conversation with the woman who brought us into the world, and then reaming her out because I wasn't wearing a bra yet.

Needless to say, Mom thought it was kind of funny. The stepmonster was really good at turning these stupid little things into monster-sized horrific situations.

This reminds me of one of the other head-butting-of-the-moms situation they once had. The stepmonster did not like my mom. Despite the fact that mom had bent over backwards trying to accommodate her at every turn, and despite the fact that she had urged me and Shannon to like this new pseudo-parent, the stepmonster found every manner of fault with my mom.

One Thanksgiving, we had turkey hot dogs for our holiday dinner because my sister, whose only job was to take the turkey out of the freezer to thaw while my mom was at work, failed to do so. The result was my mom asking what we wanted for dinner and us, wanting the quickest, tastiest meal possible, said "hot dogs" of course. The fact that they were turkey hot dogs is coincidental. They just happened to be in the fridge. When Dad and the stepmonster called, we didn't hesitate to tell them of our meal. Not a big deal. Not so to that woman, who told all these people, including my dad's sister who still talked to my mom, that Mom was no doubt a terrible mother, completely incompetent. All because we had hot dogs on Thanksgiving.

Note: The irony of this whole situation is that she accused my mother of bad parenting, when you could find fewer specimins worse than the example my stepmonster was (who has Borderline Personality Disorder, by the way). Volatile, mean, and at times violent, she probably still believes she was the better mother. Go figure.

The summer we spent the longest at my dad's, I got very sick from their smoking (I'm both asthmatic and allergic to cigarette smoke - not particulary fun). It turned into a nasty respiratory infection that my body took forever trying to shake. No one bothered taking me to the doctor (though I'd been sick for weeks) until a day or two before our returning home to our mother (the nursing school student). Yes, the stepmonster thought this an imposition, no doubt. But eventually she made an effort to get me well.

Where was Dad during all this? Working.

I suppose he took a bit more time off during those times that me and Shannon were there to visit him. But not a whole lot.

On the upside, at least he did fun things with us, like take us to museums or zoos or on various errands. He'd pretend he was the pilot and we were the navigators when we were in the car. His conversations would be interesting, to the point of philosophical. The stepmonster would take us to the lake and leave us there.

Why did he marry her? We're still trying to figure that out.

Comfort zone shmomfort zone

Yeah, you read that title right.

I'm trying to find a way out of my current comfort level (trying to shake things up). Working yet? We'll see.

A personality test I took asked if I prefer the conventional way of things or being more off the cuff, adventurous. What a stupid question! Of course, everyone prefers the conventional way. It's the comfortable way, the familiar way. How silly these people are!

Anyhow, working up the courage to move out of my comfort zone and move (that is geographically move). Is it worth all the scare and hoopla and meeting of the new people and all that? Maybe. We'll see.

Shannon, my sister, has this fabulous idea that I should move to Rochester with them. Upside: daily access to Lily, my niece and resident genius. Upside: no longer worried about going to some places and running into all the wrong people. Upside: moving on. Downside: worry. Downside: packing. Downside: leaving all the right people behind.

It's not like there isn't this handy invention called the telephone. But still, life is rather convenient when you always stay in the same place. It gets "ho hum", but what can you do? It's comfortable.

There's the little genius now.

On another note, Shannon has decided that she and the hubs need to take the little genius on a short vacation. Josh has accumulated too much vacation time again. He wants a "staycation". Shannon wants to get away. I told them I'd help them out - I'll give them one of my bonus vacations out of my package. They're considering Spirit Lake. They don't like to have to drive too far or the munchkin gets restless. It was either there or the Dells yet again. I guess for a vacation that costs gas and $13 a night, either will do.

I, myself, would like to get out to Cape Cod this fall. The overwhelming tourist season will be over, so it might be especially relaxing. I signed up for Airfare Watch Dog emails. They find pretty good deals. Using that with my package might be advantageous.

It's overcast and gloomy. Maybe a good day to clean, then dive into a book. What a yummy notion!