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January 29, 2006

he gives a new kind of meaning to what I am

The Husband's phone fell apart, he called me at work to say, and so he had decided to get a new one. Pretty much as soon as he hung up the phone with me he went straight off to Verizon and did just that, and then decided that his old phone, whose performance was unsatisfactory for his needs, would be perfect for mine (since they are--admittedly--basic: I hardly require more than a ringer and a connection).

So I got The Husband's old phone. Naturally I read the text messages he had not deleted--hello, you would have, too--and once I was finished depressing myself with those, I went about eradicating every trace of Spooky Girlfriend from the phone as well. Considering how completely unattractive a person SG is (though perhaps I'm biased), there was a surprising number of pictures. Well, I was surprised. I deleted the phone numbers and photos: the sitting-at-a-table-smiling one; the ones with somebody's kids and a long-nosed dog at Christmas; the one of Spooky Girlfriend asleep in bed, how touching. If I could have hacked the photos out of the database with a knife that would have been nice, but I had to content myself with pressing Delete.

And after the photos there were the videos. Riveting cinematic records of Spooky Girlfriend reading the paper, although it probably wasn't a paper, come to think of it, since I don't imagine newspapers are SG's thing, exactly; and one of Spooky Girlfriend laughing. I suppose when you are in love everything your beloved does is interesting and I should have been grateful there were none of SG taking a dump--but I have to admit that I watched the laughing one over and over before I deleted it. I guess they were watching a movie, I guess it was a comedy, and I was fascinated by what I was watching and by wondering why The Husband chose to film this particular thing. Maybe he was struck by the same thing I was.

You know how when people laugh, they seem to take pleasure not only in what they find funny, but in the very act of laughing? Almost like laughing makes them laugh. But watching Spooky Girlfriend... it was like watching a robot laugh: Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha. Absolutely no sign of "I like this," just an awareness of being filmed, maybe, and the mechanical display mimicking how regular people act.

I guess I just don't get it, do I? I mean, I don't get why, why this person, why, why, why even though it's been explained to me by people who ought to know, and I ought to know, too, but I don't. I looked at the pictures and I watched the movies and all I could think the whole time, mostly, was "ugh." And trying to figure it out only makes me angry and bitchy, but I keep on trying anyway. The whole fucking thing is a mystery to me, or a joke that I just don't know enough to get, but I keep trying and when all else fails, I fake it. Ha.Ha.Ha.

Posted by JudyLa at 06:00 AM | Comments (0)

January 28, 2006

back to the future

Last Wednesday while they were digging in our neighborhood to lay new cables or something, NOVEC cut the power lines. I got a call at work from a panic-stricken Moo, who had gotten home at noon because of last week's mid-terms--"We have no electricity!" "No electricity" meant "no video games and no Naruto dvd-viewing." That there was no heat, either, was considerably less important to him I guess.

It took NOVEC until Thursday afternoon to fix the problem of candlelit evenings and dinner out, but it took Comcast until Friday afternoon to restore cable service and Internet access. I spent most of that time with my face in a paper bag, trying to quiet my hyperventilation. But I feel better now.

Posted by JudyLa at 06:00 AM | Comments (0)

January 21, 2006

now that you've found love, what are you gonna do with it?

I bought a new bed last night. On Monday, I disconnected the abandoned Mac in the hallway and boxed it up; gave away the desk it sat on and the little wheeled chair that nobody sat on. In November, I bought three chairs to replace the oversized and overused couch downstairs--the one Moo and Herself fought over every night even though it was eight feet long and took up half the room, big enough for all of us to sit on at once, including Spike, Jack, and Bob.

I'm fifty years old, and this is the first time ever in my life that I am buying furniture on my own, by myself, without consulting anybody else or considering anybody else's taste. I am paying for it with my own money--that is to say, with the money I make at my part-time job--and every time I buy something I think this is MINE.

Buying a new bed ... well, duh, it doesn't take much to figure out that for me it means more than just buying a new piece of furniture and getting rid of an old one. Last fall I thought that if I got new sheets and a new comforter and new curtains and a new lamp I could somehow exorcise the bedroom of my old life, my "before" life; and that worked, to a point, to the extent that I needed it to work at the time, but now I need more. At night I want to lie in a bed with no memories, good or bad; a bed that I bought on my own, by myself and for myself, with the expectation of sleeping in it alone.

My friend DrAF calls me and during our conversations he says "I know how angry you still are," and I suppose I must be to be sitting here fantasizing about dragging my old bed out into the back yard and lighting it up, watching the flames eat it. But I don't need to do something so drastic. Instead I will take my old bed apart, piece by piece, and on January thirtieth I will put it out in the driveway and the guys from Purple Heart will come by in their truck and take it away, good-bye. And I will put up the new bed and put my new sheets on it and there. Burn, baby, burn.

Posted by JudyLa at 06:00 AM | Comments (0)

January 20, 2006

Full disclosure

Friday, January 20:
On a romantic note, you need a change of pace.

It's not often that my horoscope makes me laugh out loud.

Posted by JudyLa at 06:00 AM | Comments (0)

January 17, 2006

Bob

We have a new cat. He's a kitten, really; he's eight months old. Herself and I got him at Petco when we went there on a Saturday to buy crickets for Argo. I guess it was Adoption Day because the store was filled with cages of dogs and cats and adults looking into the cages and kids with yearning expressions looking at the adults. The dogs barked and the cats settled in, front paws tucked under their bodies, watching the world through slitted eyes. Some of them were New Orleans orphans. "Mom," said Herself, That Look on her face and That Tone in her voice. "Isn't this sad? Can't we get a cat? Won't you think about it?"

I looked at her little self and thought Antipsychotic Drugs and I said "Yes, I'll think about it while I shop next door," and I knew that she knew I was about to Cave. At Safeway I bought a case of cat food and a half-ton jug of litter. A half-hour and one hundred and seventy-five dollars later and with my mother's voice in my head saying "Who buys a cat?", I was driving home with one in the backseat of the car and Herself promising me that she'd clean the litter every day.

Since moving in he's had several names, but Herself and I have settled on our favorite (Bob) and Moo has settled on his (Zappa). It doesn't really matter that he goes by both, as he doesn't really go by either one. His given name was Ricky, so I imagine he's just glad to be rid of that. (Who names a cat "Ricky"?) He's beautiful: gray and black and white and orange striped, and unlike Spike spends a lot of his time expressing himself in plaintive meows.

It took almost two weeks for him to get comfortable with Jack and Spike and he still runs away from me and Moo most of the time, though last night I crept up slowly as he groomed himself and he allowed me to scratch his ears. "You aren't going to turn into a cat lady, are you?" asked several friends. No, I'm not going to turn into a cat lady. I already am one.

Posted by JudyLa at 11:30 PM | Comments (0)

January 15, 2006

be less needy

It's eight in the morning; the sun has come up and the sky is blue. All night long the wind howled around the house and the branches of the fir tree outside my bedroom scratched at the window. I know this because I was awake all night, or mostly all night, having been unable to sleep. At four-thirty in the morning, after dialing the same number I'd already dialed at least twenty times and listening to the phone ring and ring and ring, I got up and let Jack out, wandered around the house, put my bathrobe on and got back into bed and turned on the television and finally fell asleep and dreamed I was in a movie. I woke up from that dream and it was seven, and I dialed and listened, dialed and listened.

Now, having had two cups of coffee and an antidepressant and the Sunday paper and not knowing what else to do with myself, I sit here and type (this isn't really writing) to distract myself until it's time to get dressed and go to the gym and start the day. I don't know where The Husband is or why he does not answer his phone, the phone that I have been calling for twelve hours, and I even broke down and called Spooky Girlfriend but that phone is turned off. Where and why are, of course, none of my business but it is so unusual for him not to answer his phone, ever--just as unusual as it is for me to decide to call him when I know that they have plans because normally it would not occur to me, except for last night, for some reason--it is because of this, and because I thought to call him in the first place, that I have convinced myself that something is Wrong and I cannot stop imagining The Worst.

Now I am thinking, Get in the car and go see if he is home. And what if he is not? Or, what if he is? What will I do then? I know that if his car is not in the parking lot I will worry, and I know that if his car is in the parking lot I will go to the door and ring the bell, but I don't know what I will do after that. If he opens the door I will be so happy to see him that I will tell him "I can't do this any more; I can't worry about you any more so good bye," and if he does not open the door I will open it with the key I have and see for myself what is the story.

But first I will dial his number one more time.

Posted by JudyLa at 08:01 AM | Comments (0)

January 05, 2006

I live in a place where the nuts hunt the squirrels

Moo is in bed, asleep. In fifteen minutes I am going to wake him up and take him to the dentist.
"Is it going to hurt?" asks Herself, a glint in her eyes.
"Uh huh; he's getting cavities filled," I say. We look at each other and smile.

Lately all Moo does is play video games, text-message TGF and sleep. It's irritating. I mean it irritates me. He seems removed from us in some crucial way. Asleep when we are awake; awake when we are asleep. Incommunicado the rest of the time.

I took Emma to her 3:30 doctor appointment this afternoon. We sat in the waiting room until 4:05, whereupon I thought "fuck this" and we left. I texted The Husband to complain. "I'm on my way to the gym," he said empathetically. "I am so tired!"

The doctor called about one second after we walked into the house and I discovered that Moo had not put the lasagna in the oven after all because he wasn't hungry, and apologized. We have another appointment with her, for next Tuesday at three-thirty, because I am desperate. Herself is on medication and needs monitoring and there are apparently no other psychiatrists within a twenty-five mile radius. None who will call me back, anyway.

Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink. Time for the dentist, and long, long needles.

Posted by JudyLa at 05:01 PM | Comments (0)

January 03, 2006

and there is comfort in the sound

After she rewrites her sentences, Herself and I leave the house and get in the car. It's stopped raining. I listen to my new cd and she listens to her iPod and we drive to the library, where I get a book to listen to during my morning commute and one to read at home. Herself wanders the aisles with me. "That one looks good," she says helpfully. "How about this one?"

We run back to the car; it's chilly. "Earlier when I said I had a good day it was just because I got caught up," she says. Then, "Aren't you going to ask me about the voices?"
I say "Did you hear them today?"
No, I think.
"Yes," she says. "I don't remember what the consequences would be if I didn't do what they said though."
I consider this. "So, did you ignore them?"
"I don't remember. I think so."
I get all the green lights on the way home, which is highly unusual.

It's hard when you want something pretty badly and can't stop trying to fool yourself into thinking you'll get it even though all the signs say duh, give it a rest. It's hard when you have to keep convincing yourself over and over that most of the past two decades weren't some kind of dress rehearsal for somebody else's real life; hard to believe that everything you so do not want is, in fact, yours.

The road is empty and dark and I listen to my new cd and my slightly crazy ten-year-old listens to her iPod while we drive, and it starts to rain again.

Posted by JudyLa at 11:30 PM | Comments (0)

January 02, 2006

It's been so long since I've been to work that I didn't know what day of the week it was today. That was a nice feeling. But tomorrow it all starts up again: getting up early, school, the commute ... and suddenly it doesn't feel long enough since I was at work.

It's raining and foggy and dark out and Christmas feels months past; I just got back from a workout; Spike and Jack are chasing each other from room to room; Moo is watching some kind of hideous cartoon called "Happy Tree Friends" on his iPod; Herself is upstairs gluing on her fake fingernails, the ones she bought the other day with her own money at Ulta. I haven't got one damned thing to say, but I thought I'd post anyway.

Moo and Herself and I saw King Kong today--we went to the first show this morning so that there would be a.) an empty theater and b.) lots of parking, which there was. Were. It was a good movie; or maybe what I mean is that it was an entertaining movie. Lots of great special effects--the giant insects were my favorite. Favorites. Also I kept thinking what did Kong's breath smell like, ditto for the tyrannosaurs. I mean, if they were real, which they certainly appeared to be, would their breath smell like rotting meat?

Toward the end of the movie the woman sitting at the end of my row came to me and whispered would I please watch her daughter while she ran to the ladies room. Too surprised to do anything else, I nodded and the child, pacifier in her mouth, sat with me for a few minutes until her mother came back. She stared straight ahead, watching a giant ape destroy New York City while a complete stranger held her hand. That her mother put her trust in me--somebody she had never met, who just happened to be sitting a few seats away from her in a dark theater--seemed more surreal than what was on the screen.

Posted by JudyLa at 11:30 PM | Comments (0)

January 01, 2006

to be or not to be

I took the Christmas tree down today; it was so dry that every time I walked by it needles pattered onto the floor like rain and Spike would run up and crouch, listening and waiting for the noise to transform itself into mice, maybe, or some other catchable morsel.

I haven't been to bed yet. That is to say I've been up since 2005. I'm not especially tired, strangely enough, and I had the energy to de-holiday the house, packing up Christmas into boxes and carting it downstairs and stacking it all neatly in the basement. I love the way the house looks when it is just decorated, and I love the way it looks when it is just undecorated--so clean and calm. Herself and I sat in front of the windows and looked at the lake and the sunset and were quiet together.

For dinner we had the ham Moo requested, and it was delicious. The first dinner of the new year, only 364 to go. Moo's resolution is to read more. Herself's is "world peace." Mine? I'm still working on it.

Posted by JudyLa at 11:30 PM | Comments (0)