Notes from the day

Breakfast. Bloody Mary, desk chairs, sunshine, another Bloody Mary.
Shenanigans to follow.

Kyle figured out the Soggy Dollar ring toss in 58 tries.

Rocky is now up.

Re: Kelly’s meds:
Don’t hide ‘me, divide ’em.
-Kyle. Via his friend Ken.

Burned Tupperware and stove coils. Where there is smoke, there is joking.

Beaver will take you where you need to go.
-Kelly

Rocky Two Towel

Kathleen came by to say hey and provide dilly beans for tomorrow’s bloody Marys.

Somehow we are now calling Kyle Ponch. Is that more or less racially insensitive than MexiKyle?

Wine. More wine.

Pelican. More beer.
Note: do not make Kyle cause a scene because he will and it will be something to behold.

I would like extra bonus good Karma points for helping Kyle up when his chair fell over instead of taking pictures. Because I really wanted to take pictures.

Kyle. Kyle. Kyyyyyyyyyyyyle.

Footloose. Do not write that on his forehead. Do not.

Sun. Sand.
I haven’t laughed this much in a long, long time.
You people rock.

Friends.

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Gone to the beach. Nothing can get to me. Wa ha ha haaaaa

About 45 minutes ago, I arrived at my secret beach location, turned on the water, turned on the electricity, made ice cubes, put the wine and beer in the fridge, unpacked the relatively few snacks, made the bed, walked the 112 steps down to say hello to the ocean, haystack rock and Cape Lookout, walked back, turned the music on, grabbed a beer and have settled into a deck chair to wait for Rock Star and the Doctor.

That, my friends, was a run-on sentence.

For a moment I wondered if I should pop into town and pick up some more beer, and other sundries but decided to wait and see how the boys are provisioned before I did that. Plus, uh, beer. Lagunitas Little Sumpin’ for those keeping score.

These are the types of very exciting decisions I will be making over the next few days. Know why I get to make all of the big decisions? Because I know how to live. I was driving down hwy 101 before my colleagues had even left the office.

Why am I bragging about it?

Because the one thing I have no doubts about doing right is in balancing work and my life. Life is first. Long ago, I chose to work for a healthcare company. The pay is more than adequate for most jobs in a healthcare company, but it could have made a lot more in the private sector. The vacation benefits and easygoing work hours kept me there.

So, while the average American gets maybe a couple of weeks off a year, I have already taken the equivalent of a month off.

Someday maybe I will get my love life into the same sort of order.

In the meantime, I think I will return to my regularly scheduled sloth. Don’t hate me because I am both beautiful and relaxed.

The ambulances are already wailing their way down to Sand Lake to rescue the injured ATV crowd.

I will be right. Here. Happy.
Should I have another beer? Hmmm…decisions…..

Update: boys are here time for dinner. There could be drinks. Rocky wants to watch football.

Sportsman’s Pub, it is.

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Being a jerk accidentally

I somehow manage to piss people off all the time without meaning to…why can’t I ever be a jerk on purpose?
–Paddy

Me, too! Also, oh my gosh, I feel a blog coming over me.
–Me

It often feels like I have no control over the words that come out of my mouth. Almost as little control as I sometimes have over the food that goes into my mouth, though that is a story for another day.

It’s not that I ever say anything spectacularly horrible, but when the stars align I can be a little more of a razor than I care to be. Usually if I have gone into a conversation feeling a little hurt, dismissed, or vulnerable. Instead of tears, I defend myself with a slight edge of meanness. Without really meaning to.

OK tears, too, but that is a whole other thing.

I would love to be able to parse one of those conversations like they used to do in English class. Throw it up on a board and show each of us exactly where we went wrong.

Them: I might come up later. Maybe we can meet up if I do.

Me: Maybe when you decide, you can let me know and if I don’t have anything better to do, maybe I will say yes.

Nice, right? So what went wrong?

Well, to start with, for several reasons this is what I heard:

I might come up later, unless someone better happens to call, in which case I will obviously not want anything to do with you. Maybe we can meet up if I do, but don’t hold your breath because I would really rather do pretty much anything instead of meeting up with you. This is just a pity call anyway.

Holy subtext, Batman! Where the fuck did that come from?

Well, for starters I have a bit of a history with “maybe,” so “maybe” is a big trigger word for me. “Maybe” makes me feel like I am not worth setting aside time for. “Maybe” makes me feel like a runner-up. “Maybe” frequently ends up with me wasting time waiting for something that is never going to happen. This was a maybe wrapped in a possibly enclosed in another maybe. People who know me tend to know this about me. I love to be spontaneous. Just show up at my front door and I will smile and give you a big hug. I am also fond of having plans to look forward to.

Offer me a maybe? I will probably start by sheepishly mentioning I have a hard time with maybes. More maybes? I might start getting a little sharp in the tongue area. I won’t realize it.

How did my response translate?

Maybe when you decide, you can let me know and if I don’t have anything better to do, maybe I will say yes. I would love to see you. I wish you felt the same way about seeing me. I would love to have plans with you to look forward to instead of fighting about how likely you are to show up later and then being hurt when you don’t.

As it turns out, we got past the fight and agreed to probably meet up later that day and I never got a call either confirming or canceling for sure. For not the most convincingly good reason.

Maybe.

There is a reason it brings out the worst in me.

What does that have to do with being a jerk accidentally when you’re a fundamentally kind person?

Everyone has things that push their buttons. Most of us do pretty well with being kind most of the time to most people. It is really hard to do that in a situation where you care about someone, they know what those buttons are, and they are pushing them like a toddler in an elevator.

No one is responsible for anyone else’s feelings. Your feelings are your own. I was a jerk in this story. I admit it. I apologized. Sometimes, though, we could all use a little bit of compassion. A little bit of extra care. Not to tiptoe around our every whim, but to help us out when we are struggling.

Most people who care about us will try not to push those buttons, especially when they know we are under stress or just having a generally rough time.
I don’t think it is a sign of being in need of continual need of reassurance, but just being a human.

Sometimes to keep someone from accidentally being a jerk, all we need is for someone to show us they want us to be happy.

Maybe.

It isn’t so complicated.