It will be fine.

I finally had my pre-holiday meltdown and just took half of a pre-holiday valium.

I am extremely unhappy with myself at the moment, and it is really hard to reach past this feeling to convince myself that it is only temporary, and that I do not always hate myself. That not everything I do is selfish and procrastinating.

Valium works quickly.

Ok, so two things I know to do right now:

1) Be grateful. I have amazing people in my life who either aren't aware that I am awful or who love me in spite of it. I have a lot of good that needs to be noticed.

2) Redefine or revisit my values. Is what I'm doing in line with what's important to me?

This is like math: I need to make sure I'm using the right formula and setting up the problem right.

Here's a tired, half-drugged attempt:

It is important to me to treat myself kindly.

It is important to me to show appreciation to all, but especially the ones dear to me.

It is important to me to be a good pet owner.

It is important to me to be brave.

It is more important to me to make a messy effort than none at all.

Feeling Useful

I was just at Winco getting groceries. I didn't fight for the shorter line, instead patiently waited in the long one. I was finally buying the beer I'd been craving all week, but I forgot that I have not received my replacement driver's license yet.

Well, now as I look I realize I haven't actually told you what happened yet. Just before my trip to Phoenix for Thanksgiving, my wallet was stolen. I'll finish that post next.

So I'm standing there wondering if I'm going to get carded, because I always get carded at Winco. Sure enough, she asks, and I produce the temporary paper drivers license I printed out from the DMV website. I explain that my wallet was stolen, and she asks me from where.

I tell her work: the VA, and she says she'll have to warn her father, who is a new patient there. She tells me he just moved here and has to take the bus in from Carson City. I tell her that there are volunteers who drive people in from outlying areas. She was trying to tell me more about her dad's situation in between questions from her next customer, so I gave her my work number. I have really got to start carrying my business card.

I drive home from Winco, and before I even take the groceries in, I check the mail, and there is my driver's license. I meant to check the mail earlier today. If I had, I would have had my ID and there would have been no reason to talk about the VA.

Maybe it is not so cut and dried as "everything happens for an reason." Or maybe we just don't often see it. It's a pretty crazy tie to get to this, but it sounds like her dad needs help, she needs information, and I can be the link they need.

It's not that the information isn't available or that the government wants to restrict it or that the VA doesn't care about veterans, as my conspiracy theorists like to tell me. It's that there is too MUCH information available- it's overwhelming. I bet he's already got the book and the transportation info. All they need is 15 minutes on the phone with someone who can stop and listen, who knows what questions to ask, and who can give them a roadmap for the most pressing needs. It doesn't sound like much, but I have received so much gratitude from so many vets and their families for this that I know how valuable it is. In two and a half years at the VA, I have learned- not all, but a lot- just by trying to answer these questions for people and I suddenly see what my coworkers keep telling me:

Grand plan or not, I am in the right place.

You wouldn't like me when I'm angry... or sick. Or jarred from a nap.

The danger in answering the phone while taking a nap is that it might be an asshole calling.

Perhaps I shouldn't have answered, as I was apparently still all confused and not quite awake, but nobody ever knows they're not awake. All I heard was something about "we have your cat" and my brain struggled through sleep and the snot from my cold. "What?"

"Are you missing a cat?"

I thought hard. I thought of Laxy, of course. I saw Solo up on her cat shelves.

"...not for some time."

"Well, obviously we've got the wrong number," the voice sneered, all attitudey.

"Wait... you found a cat?"

Laughter, then CLICK.

My actual next thought was: Now, wait just a goddamn minute.

If I had still been talking to a person, I would have actually said that, which makes me feel very old.

I feel old and confused anyway, so it feels like a prank. I wonder if it was.

I look at the phone and try to find another cat in my brain. Recalculate; are you missing something? The time to process crucial information has passed- the number is restricted. Now I'm just confused and struck awake and... mad.

I spent the past two days on my couch, filling Kleenex, drinking tea, mouth breathing, trying to warm my feet. Today was my first day back at work, and like always after an absence, my chair is all wonky, nothing was shut down, my stuff is moved... I thought I was feeling ok, but my short fuse, no sense of humor, and first glance from a coworker told me otherwise. They banished me to Urgent Care, where apparently the theme of the day was horrible sore throats. No attention was paid to my unexplained neck pain, which convinces me that it's meningitis, and I was assured after a review of symptoms that I have no strep, no Ebola, just a cold. Back to my desk I went, only to be further harassed by caring coworkers, and I gave up on much work by around 1pm thanks to the ceaseless interruptions that I normally juggle with easy smile. The Hulk formerly known as Lou Ferrigno was supposed to come visit the hospital today, but had to cancel due to illness. I find this an appropriate sign that I shouldn't have come in either, because I could feel the green monster in me lurching around. The sweet timekeeper was trying to help me fix my timecard after several failed attempts, and called me when our email conversation did not result in the correct amount of leave. I did a minor roar before grabbing the phone and realized that I might not be as well as I had originally thought. I managed to label my rage as cold-induced and put it away for the 17th time that morning. This was 9am.

Sparky gave me a comic book a few months ago. Did you know that there's a She-Hulk? Her name is Jennifer.

Even on my day off.

Old guys...

I'm out at breakfast, sitting at the counter at Kimmie's. I can never remember that their stools are too short. So I'm between two old guys and the waitress asks one of them if he'd like more Pepsi.

"What?"

"Would you like a refill?" she asks.

"No!" he coughs, then calls after her: "No mas!"

Nice job, doofus. Not sure you needed to show off your extensive Spanish skills, seeing as how that exchange was in English.

Immediately after that, dude on my left asks, "Where's the blonde girl? Doesn't she work here anymore?"

"Which one?" our patient waitress asks. "There's like three blonde girls that work here."

"The real blonde," he says.

Eyeroll, gross old dude.

Maybe it is time to go sit in a different part of the hospital and work less directly with old guys for a while. Maybe I'm a little tired. As I write, I'm thinking that this falls under the self-righteous indignation category. I'm going to have to chuck those assessments.

My job is about to undergo a major change, and I seem to be cleaning house right now anyway. I just rearranged my bedroom- that felt fantastic. I signed up for Audible on Saturday, and I'm two hours away from finishing This Is Where I Leave You. Tremendous timing... between the book and getting a WAY better interest rate on a consolidation loan, I am thinking a lot about the sadness behind me and the life ahead. I do not want to stagnate, I do not want to be bitter, I do not want to be stubborn and sadly stuck. Onward.

Alright.

Because she's been so patient (and persistent), here is the wedding blog, or as I like to call it, the wlog.

The wedding was very nice. It was held at what I described to a coworker as an old, fancy, small, hotel kindof thing, which didn't help her understand what the hell I was talking about. Then I said it was in Old Town Alexandria, and she knew right away.

All my pictures are from the getting ready part, and I was sneaking pictures while the photographer was doing her thing, so let me just assure you that the real pictures are going to be gorgeous.

The light in there was perfect, and Tracy's dress was all Grecian and pretty. She got it for a steal too, which just delights me.

I was running up and down the stairs right about now between the bride and groom staging areas. I delivered the boy flower and asked for the precious, but Dave's brother had no idea what I was talking about. I get that a lot.

See what I mean? The pictures are gonna be gorgeous.

Mom and I were both stealing pictures and trying to stay out of the way.

Here's my Once Every Decade hosiery obligation. I spent way longer than anticipated in the bathroom trying to get those suckers on. Then I got a hole in them. That reminds me- some nights ago, I had a dream that I was trying to help Tracy get ready for the wedding, but I kept having wardrobe failure after wardrobe failure, which is a pretty accurate description of what happened.

I am fond of this particular series that happened after the photographer left, just before I skittered down the stairs to wait in the Clue room with the rest of my family members and soon to be family members.

And of course, we couldn't leave without stepping all over the train first.

Downstairs, we waited with Dave. Tracy was hovering somewhere nearby, waiting for the cue from the coordinator. Eventually we got the green light and the harpist started playing. Dave's brother and mom went in, Dad and I went in, I can't remember if Mom and Marty went in before or after us because I was busy trying not to screw up, then Dave and the non-denominational but very reverential reverend. I was at that level of nervous where you can't actually focus on anything, so I was quite relieved to be brought back to earth by the sweet sounds of the harp playing Pachelbel's Canon. pling! pling! pling! BWOWww

HEE HEE HEE!

She was trying hard, but she's not putting out a CD anytime soon. I tried not to find it nearly as funny outwardly as I did inwardly, but the nervousness did not help my giggles.

I am always dismayed by how much the reverend speaks. I see how if this is your church, and this person has known you forever, they might have more of a role, but it seems so weird to me to see pictures of these two people who love each other so much... sandwiching some random person that they don't know and will likely never see again. That's why I wanted Chris's friend, or Aunt Kate... or even if we did have to go with the very watered down "family member" who was ordained in prison, it would be somebody we knew who would marry us... but Jennyway.

So the ceremony is over quickly and preciouses exchanged, and Dave and Tracy start to turn and walk out of the room. Blah blah blah... "present Mr. and Mr. Buracker." So I think that had us all rolling. They leave and I don't know if I'm supposed to go get Dad and follow them or what, so we all just kind of look at each other and shrug until someone points us in the next direction, which was either alcohol or pictures, I can't remember.

I managed to get my Diet Coke purse into the ceremony, but outside, the photographer very lovingly gave me permission to set it down. Multi-option family photos to follow. I think it was Dad (or was it Marty?) who started singing, "You put your mother-in-law in, you take your mother-in-law out..." We continued playing Who's the Closest Relatives to the Happy Couple until we were all eliminated and went back inside for more alcohol and schmoozing. At some point, we were herded into the private dining room, where Tracy poured champagne all over my chair. Ok, now I really have to make a list:

1. Failure to bring hosiery
2. Original dress rejected by Mom
3. Unanticipated struggle to get into hosiery
4. Raging period
5. Unable to buckle shoes
6. Can't fit anything into ornamental Diet Coke purse
7. Champagne lap
8. Dad narrowly avoids setting his jacket on fire- Jenny prevents this and a beer from being knocked over
9. Step on Tracy's train as she's walking
10. Informed of hole in hosiery
11. Negate earlier save by knocking Dad's glass out of hand from my overenthusiastic dancing, sending wine simultaneously up his nose and down his shirt.

Dad told me about his trip to the dry cleaner's. He was telling the lady about what happened to his suit when they both noticed some schmutz a little further down on his jacket. "AH, CAKE!" she identified.

Yeah, so I wasn't the only one. And I'm sure there are other wardrobe failures I'm missing, but those were entertaining.

So, dinner. Tracy did us all a disservice by not telling us how delicious the chicken was going to be, so damn near everyone ordered steak. She did tell us it was really good, but I imagine wedding chicken to be a dried up, boneless, skinless, tasteless chicken breast with a lemon slice on top on a bed of shitty pasta. She was kind enough to feed me chicken bits. The steak was good too, but not nearly as delicious as that frigging chicken. I also heard there was pasta available.

Beer! Wine! Champagne! Toasts!

Eventually we stopped eating and were herded back to the ceremony room for some cake and goth clubbing. I guess some of the couples were waiting for a slow song to dance to, but it never came, but it was also not their wedding, so fuck 'em. I say that appropriately, because this was the most personalized wedding playlist ever. There was no Chicken Dance at this shindig.

The only thing that sucked was that we had to STFU by 10. That was probably for the best, as Tracy and I were shutting down by yelling CAKE lyrics to each other. Alienation- it's what we do.

Tracy's friends drove me back to T&D's so I could babysit the puppies. I took one more picture that night of my pretty hair and makeup that Tracy got for me. I was sad to take it all down, because I felt so pretty in it.

That's after 10+ hours, alcohol, food, and dancing! I had wardrobe malfunctions all over, but no hair or makeup failures. Thanks for that treat, Tracy!

It really was a lovely time, and I can't wait to see the real pictures!

One of these days I'm gonna...

So somebody had some choice words about my writing. They had some very valid points and overall it was a serious compliment, but it was accompanied by some pretty shitty generalizations. I tried very hard to be grateful, because the overall message was confidence in my writing, but it was very hard to listen.

You're going to have to forgive me for my mini rant. I don't know what it is about Sundays that sucks so bad. Plus I am not ready to go face another week, and it depresses the shit out of me that my next adventure is not for over a month, and at this very moment I am cranky. That was one of the assessments, by the way: that I write about self pity. And self-righteous indignation. Waaaahhh, goddammit.

The main argument is that I'm wasting time and I need to be writing actual pieces and submitting them. That is valid. I agree. And this is just my outlet. I like it better than writing in my journal. Where else can you bathe in self pity and self-righteous indignation? But if that's all there is to read, then that's what you have to judge. Noted. But this stuff here is not for your judgment. It's for my sanity. And I can't laugh about this stuff until I process it. This is my process.

I got back from Virginia on Wednesday, and I have a blog on order about that, though it will take energy I don't have at the moment, which means that could never show up. Tracy requested it though, so I will follow through if she harasses me enough.

In the meantime, here's what's happening at the moment:

I went to pick up Riley from Chris's house on Wednesday, because Mike and Elaine decided not to come get her for the week I was gone as we planned. I don't know why, and I'm afraid the answer will just annoy me. Jasmine was just as excited as Riley to see me, and very sad when she didn't get to come with us. Chris asked if I could take her this weekend, as he would be working a lot. I was wrecked and not looking for extra dog duty quite yet, but agreed on Friday. Friday went all haywire and I never heard from him Saturday, but I got a call around 7:00 Saturday night from an unidentified person who said, "Um hi... I've got... Jasmine?" I took down the address and headed right over, calling Chris on the way. He sounded upset, saying that his roommate must have let her out and forgotten to bring her back in. She was almost two miles away from the house, and she perked up when she saw me. She ran to me and was so excited to see me that she headbutted me a couple times. "You have a REALLY sweet dog," the finder told me.

It was really weird- I was supposed to pick her up on Saturday, I had asked Chris about her food on Wednesday, I was given a stack of coupons at work and had actually gone through them that afternoon and found one for her food, I had just put her food bowl through my dishwasher, I bought another dog blanket that afternoon... it was serendipitous, as Sparky put it. I think it's more like being tuned into the universe, like when I think a person will text me a second before they do. My number was listed on the tag because I made that tag months ago at PetSmart. It was supposed to be Chris's number, then Topaz, but I put myself right in the middle. It was a good thing, since Chris's number has since been disconnected. When we got back to my place, Jasmine ran all the way to my door.

So that was weird.

I have a horrifying number of books to read before the end of the year. I am currently debating about what to read next. Tracy suggested Unbroken, as did Shannon, but I'm not sure I can handle a devastating true story, which is usually my favorite genre. The trip, the family drama, and the wedding seem to have sucked all the energy out of me. I should start scheduling a recovery day after my vacations. I don't mean that to sound as awful as it does. I had a good time, and enjoyed the company, the family, the wedding. I even danced exuberantly and hit a wine glass... ugh. I will cringe forever at that memory. Other than that and the drama, it was a perfectly lovely visit. It was nice to be among trees in the rain, but I did breathe a surprising sigh of relief when the plane descended and I saw Nevada's brown wrinkles. Maybe it's just my little place of solitude, or being in control of my day, or driving my car, or wailing to my music. It felt good to collect my critters and curl up in my bed. I suppose it felt good to be back at work too, but that is a different form of stress that is all challenging and character building and all that bullshit and a story for another day. Tonight I have watched a Frasier episode and giggled, ate a delicious meal that I cooked, already portioned out the leftovers, I walked the dogs individually, I did tons of laundry, I cleaned, I reorganized, I even watched a movie earlier today. It was not a bad Sunday, but Sundays are oddly my least favorite days. Now I guess I understand why you don't like fall, Mom.

Witchy Woman

I finally figured out how to upload more than one picture at a time, but I still can't narrate as I'd like to from my phone.

We decorated for Halloween. And rats will eat anything, including Tabasco, apparently.