Superiority – Idiot

My blog was much funnier when the Squeeze and I were merely trying one another on for size, as opposed to actually ‘living the dream’ as we are now.

Perhaps if it had been just the Squeeze I was trying on, it would have been a little easier. However, with the potential of blending families, it is more like trying on a whole new outfit – with all the accessories. The Squeeze was the dress; kids were matching shoes; and the Harridan... Well what else could she be but the bag..?

After a couple of years, I’m no longer utterly astounded by some of her comments and expectations. It wasn’t a once off and she wasn’t just having a bad week in the start. She really is that spiteful, it wasn’t an accident.

With that acceptance, also comes the reality that I am no longer prepared to tippy toe around that much either. Yes, yes; there is a list of things that you must “suck it up” for; to allow for the benefit of all, but there is also a requirement to be true to yourself. For example, I’m not prepared to put myself into situations such as the school concert the other week. I don’t intend to give the Harridan the opportunity to look through me as though I wasn’t there, thus enforcing this behaviour on the kids. That just makes everyone feel uncomfortable and let’s face it, it is the behaviour of twelve year olds.

Kid 2’s gal’s birthday went by last week in between moving house and the text came that they would hold a backyard bbq at their new shared living arrangement. This of course, is my idea of hell and to be honest, I have no desire to go anywhere that the Harridan is frequenting. When the “frost” came out at the school concert, the ‘gal’ didn’t give me any conversation until we had left so in effect, I was made to feel like an interloper – which is exactly how the witch planned it.

Yeah; I don’t generally give someone the opportunity to be ‘in your face’ rude to me a second time. Either the Kid and his Gal can do dinner separately with us or the Squeeze can go on his own for the “happy family bbq!”

You may wonder how, if I don’t turn up for these events, how the hell I’m going to get any fodder for my blog... The truth is that the Harridan is incapable in not bandying about her superior knowledge in ‘every-single-fricking-thing-on-the-planet’. Just ask her. The Squeeze has a million text messages, all depicting her supremacy.

Just yesterday he received a text in her usual Neanderthal style of English demanding that he return Kid 3’s EPI Pen. Upon his reply of “No problem; bring ours and I’ll do a swap”. He got back “What has happened to you? I’ll bring your out of date pen back!”

Sigh. What has happened is that he no longer does and pays as instructed.
And he is no longer brainwashed into believing that the Harridan is the “source of truth” or that “she must be obeyed”. For example, the EPI Pen does have a ‘use by date’. On ours, it is next month. 

But if you care to pause in your tirade to examine the pen, you will see the large green window with a clear liquid window on the side that says: REPLACE WHEN SOLUTION IS DISCOLOURED.

Worshipping at the House of Blues

In the past, I dated people who I thought were similar to me; making sure there were just a few oddities thrown in to give some measure of diversity.   Hell, who am I kidding, I married most of them, but that's another story.    Still, after you have had several wild misses, you tend to examine things a little more closely to see what you did wrong.   What were the little things that worked; and what were the alarm bells and lessons you learnt along the way.   What was the “hidden” that when it came to the surface, had you worshiping in the house of blues.

Okay the music is actually John Lee Hooker, Rock House Blues - but near enough is good enough!

When I look back, I see that there was me as, say...  Black; then there was them as... well, white.   And because I’m dieting, let’s go with a chocolate analogy.   This is not any black arts, black magic, black is evil crap either; I just prefer to run with a Wesley Snipes moment of “always bet on the black”.

Anyway, I’m dark chocolate over here and then along comes a cup of white chocolate and it just jumps right into the bowl – yet somehow, the two just didn’t mix.   Maybe it was because they weren't the same blend; maybe they just didn't stir it enough or put enough effort into it.  Mainly I suspect, it was because there was way too much dark and only a dash of white.   Or maybe the dashes of white came from myself; given that I’m a Gemini and therefore already a set of twins in my own head.

Either way, every so often I pause to examine the Squeeze to see where he fits into this analogy; have we combined to create a lovely caramel swirl?  Has the white, tempered the bitterness of the dark?  In fact, I believe that he is almost a mirror image of me for the deal breakers.

Deal breakers I hear you ask?   For my mind, there is the list of things that are vital in order for me to continue being ‘me’; and there is no man on the planet worthy of renouncing them.   What works between the Squeeze and I, is that our list would appear to be the same.

We each have a music and writing compass that rules our world.  It's not the same compass and the guidelines are not rigid.   There is no necessity that we be identical.   In some ways, we are in what could only be considered, extreme dark/white chocolate corners.  For example, I like Gaga and he likes Miles Davis; but there must be enough of a cross over blend (Bob Dylan) to understand each other; to appreciate why the other would worship at our respective musical houses.

What is my blog about?   Nothing really; just mulling.  I do that.

Gemini Dream

For this evenings listening blog pleasure

Now this is romance. Read these lyrics…
Yes I know you have to skip over the whole 80’s thing.
Shut one eye and squint with the other and you barely notice the fashions.

And how can you not love lines like this:
First night, so long
A state of mind
What can go wrong?
I mean given that we had kids over every night last week, it definitely was a first free night in so long.

And then we move into:
We're here, the time is right
To rock 'n' roll
Right through the night

And about there is where the wheels fall off.
All through the night..? What…. The whole night?
That really is a Gemini dream!

There is no “whole night” – not while television is alive and well!

My Head Hurts

I had a shocker of a weekend. Actually, in one way it was dreadful; yet not so bad in another.

The shocker part was due to waking up Saturday morning with a splitting headache and this swiftly morphed into a full blown migraine by Saturday afternoon. Aaarrrgggghhh but the life of a partner/mother/stepmother never stops, not for a little thing like a migraine; so it was onward as planned to pick up a “rent a van” which is another term for renting a heap of crap that had no tread on the tyres.  It spun out and squealed at ever corner; not to mention the Squeeze that couldn’t find gears but could certainly grind them.

The day started out with breakfast, followed by securing the van in between swallowing handfuls of headache tablets in an attempt to keep the monster at bay.   We got back to the house where the Squeeze tried to coax the kid out of the spare room to help with the lifting.   His plea falls on deaf ears until fed up, I flick  off the power to the house and I hear the endless racket that is the television, go dead.

Then, like a mouse sneaking out of its hole for a look around, he sticks his nose out to mention that the power went off.

This is where he made his mistake as the Squeeze directs him to assist with lifting and then we go through the “I’ve got no shoes on” followed by the run off to get shoes, never to return.   Then at a Squeeze bellow, answers: “I can’t find socks!”   And the Squeeze’s shout of “Stuff the socks! Get out here!” answer. And all the while I feel like walking into the kitchen, pulling out my sharpest spoon and stabbing them to death with it, because a knife would be too damned quick considering the torture they are putting my head through!

Eventually, the van is stacked and we are on the road; a cosy little trip with the Squeeze in the driver’s seat, me in the passenger and the Kid sitting cosy in the middle between us. I do pause in my wishing myself dead to mention as we sit at the lights that it would be quite amusing if a group of kids from his new school went past at that moment in time; and spied him sitting up in a rental van. He was not as impressed by the idea which only made me find it funnier.

I suffer the 1.5 hour drive to the sound of the Squeeze grinding gears and the Kid fiddling with the volume on the radio and I closed my eyes and chanted “I won’t say a word” to myself for the whole trip down there. And just when I thought I would have to turn it down and scream at them all that I was dying over here, the Squeeze got jack of his inability to hear if anything was wrong with the antiquated heap we were driving and swivelled the knob to the off position – which suited me fine.

We arrive at the beach. I already know that this won’t be a relaxing romantic trip. We have the Kid and my brother and wife have their 2 kids – all the same age. Instead, we actually do manage to acquire some down time.  There are enough kids on hand to help with emptying the van and then we sit in the warmth and watch movies until it’s time to go out for dinner.

I managed to down 2 glasses of red in the hope that if nothing else, they’d help the drugs to work, but instead, my head just decides to thump even louder; so I slink off to bed at about 9pm.  On a Saturday night.  What a wowser.

The next morning my alarm goes off at 7.45 so that I can prepare for the breakfast I organised with my niece, hubby and two darlings. And they arrive to me preparing a breakfast feast that would kill a lesser person, there are calories upon calories. And the kids are on me – like fat kids on a cupcake!   But I have to say that being the ‘bestest cook in the whole wide, wide world’ did relieve my headache slightly!

My niece turns up with orange juice and champagne as instructed. Testimony to my headache is that I can’t swallow a drop of champagne.  This basically means I am clinically dead.

We have to be on the road by 9.30 am to take the rent a hack back and the girls manage to extract a sleep over promise before they depart.   This in itself will be fun and I may coax my daughter over for an evening of “girl” time as it usually ends up with them doing our hair and makeup to the point where we look like five dollar harlots; but is endlessly amusing!

We get home and drop the van back and at last... at last... I am home! I can go to bed. Finally. No one wants or needs me for the next 12+ hours!
I swallow a handful and slump into slumber... Heaven... (Although today feel like a cat that has been through the washer.)

So what was the good part of the weekend..?

Well when I have a migraine, I’m quiet. So the Squeeze got a blissful weekend with barely a peep from me! He must have been in seventh heaven since the silence was golden!

Oh Lord, won't you buy me…

Okay.  My life sucks.  Work sucks.  I had a totally hideous day!  Hell, they don’t pay me enough to turn up there each day and listen to the whining!

So…

while you read my prose…  And I should probably point out about now, that although I like to think that I select the music fit the specific blog, it only has to fit it according to my brain and my brain doesn’t work the same as everyone else’s.

I have a project at work that has been quite dear to my heart.  Dear to my heart for about 3 years.  In fact it is moving out of ‘dear to my heart’ into ‘can we get this thing in already’ land…  Still, I’ve gone the ‘extra mile’; ‘above and beyond’, ‘into the twenty first century and beyond!’  It is for the NICU, (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) and I have a great amount of empathy for these people because firstly, they do a great job; secondly, I once lived in one for 6 months while my son was in at the children’s.  Actually I lived in Ronald McDonald house but that is splitting hairs…

I agree – it has taken a long time, but hey; it’s public health for crying out loud.  Yes… I know that there is never enough resources to get any actual work done; making it impossible to achieve any ‘good’ and when you think about it, how could there be with so many chiefs..?  Still, the few of us resources that turn up each day do a pretty good job.

So I left early after an unjust berating from a director.

Yep.  Just up and left.

And now that I am on my first red and coasting into ‘relaxation’; I figure it is time I won lotto and retired.  Please…