I stomped up the steps into the poolside courtyard, my Pier 1 and Urban Outfitter bags were sliding out from my grip. I grumbled, “I friggin’ hate Christmas!” just as my downstairs neighbor, June, opened the gate. She was chipper and fresh faced, her long hair pulled into a ponytail. No matter what the weather does around her, she always looks like she’s ready for summer. I think she takes it with her.
“Hi, how are you?”
“Just lovely. You probably heard me muttering how much I hate Chrismas.” I walked right past her to keep my bags from landing on her feet. They fell on mine instead.
She smiled at me. “No, I didn’t. Were you just shopping?”
“Yes and it sucked. I was snaked twice for parking spaces. I was there first!”
She suddenly looked serious. “I went to the Fashion Square Mall yesterday and didn’t bother using the parking lot. I parked in the residential neighborhood and took the extra minute of walking to clear my head…” she stretched her arms open wide.
I imagined her going to her happy place. I pictured it as sunny and sandy with turquoise colored waters and tall swaying palm trees. Gosh, that sounded so nice. If I was there, I could wear my hair in a pony tail, too. Then, maybe I could carry summer with me all the time. I wouldn’t have to fight for parking spaces or wait in long lines for the privledge to buy overpriced crap. I wonder what that place is called? That’s how I remember Hawaii , both times I was there…Wait a minute. Am I now in my happy place?
June let out a big sigh. “…and get me ready for the mall.”
And with that I was back. I was so irritated by the two parking jackals that I almost got out of my car to tell them off. Truthfully, I also wanted to hurt them! I’m generally not a violent person, but I really was ready to kick some Christmas ass!…Of course, I didn’t do that. Not because (okay, say it with me) it’s-wrong-to-hurt-other-people, so much as I don’t have the bail money required for a satisfying Christmas ass-whooping!
The next day, Christmas Eve, was my last chance to pick up some gifts before my family’s annual Christmas Eve tamale dinner. Christmas Eve is reserved for the mexican meal of tamales while Christmas Day features all the traditional american fixings. They’re both good, but this year I opted for the tamales with my family and a quiet Christmas day alone.
I wasn’t sure when everyone was meeting up, so I plugged in my earbud and dialed my grandparents’ house in Riverside, CA.
“Hi, Grandma, this is Flo. How are you?”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“I’m okay. I’m calling to find out when everyone will meet tonight. I’m not sure when that is supposed to happen.”
“We’re having dinner at five.”
That made sense given they’re had dinner at five since my mom was five years old — maybe longer!
“Ohhhhhh…it’s four now and I’m still in LA. Sheesh, I have more Christmas gifts to pick up, so it’ll be two or three hours before I could even show up.”
(Read this in your cranky granny voice for full effect)
“You don’t have a husband or children, so what’s keeping you from doing everything you need to get done?”
I, being the incredibly mature woman that I am, paused a moment before I spoke.
“You know…I’m wondering if I should return your Christmas gift right now!”
My grandmother laughed hard. I guess it was a good thing she took it as a joke, though I wasn’t kidding! I was pissed. Of all the ways to hit when I’m down, did it REALLY have to be about my broken marriage and the children I wanted but didn’t have?
I cried the rest of the afternoon as I ran errands around town, before I headed east for Riverside. On the drive out, I got a call from my soon to be ex-husband, Endicott, wishing me a Merry Christmas. I was more than upset so I don’t remember everything that was said, but there’s enough for me to paraphrase:
What’s so merry about it? I friggin HATE Christmas. I spend a lot of time and a lot of money I don’t have (the luxury to waste) on people who are mean to me! Mean how? Like this…(insert hysterical shrieking here) that’s how!
There was a long pause from Endicott before he said, “Yikes.”
Yikes indeed.
I finally calmed down an hour later when I stopped in West Covina to see a friend. She, her husband, her son and thirty other relatives gather at her parent’s home for their annual Christmas party. It’s the house in which she grew up, it’s where she lived when she met her future husband (back in high school), it’s also where she was married (I still remember how impressed I was when the DJ played, “How soon is now?” by the Smiths) and its now where she takes her six year old son for family events and visits with his grandparents. It’s a sweet, loving home in which I pop in once or twice a year.
Walking into the house, I felt a little like Norm on the TV show, “Cheers,” as everyone said, “Flo!” or “Hey, Flo!” as well as, “Flo’s here!” and my favorite, “Hey, Flo, I’ll get your margarita!” Yes, these are my people! Seriously, anyone who has a margarita standing by (for me?) will always have a place in my heart.
So we chatted, we laughed, tried to stump the cocky little 20 Questions gadget everyone there got as a Christmas gift. Not only does it do a great job at figuring out our guesses — we chose the word margarita, it guessed wine — it does it with attitude such as, ‘You thought you were being tricky with that clue, but I’ll figure it out.’
By the time I left, it was 7:00p.m. Dinner at my grandparent’s place would have been long over, with guests headed home. I thought about turning around and heading home, but didn’t.
Yes, I was hurt by the harsh words, but really, I knew it was coming. That’s a typical remark — and a mild one, too! — from someone in my family. They play rough. They say hurtful things as jokes — they can be as funny as they are cutting — and don’t understand how someone could offended by it. So, if I know this about them — and about myself, too, because I can do the same thing, just like flipping a switch — then why was I so upset? Why freak out over something so expected?
I was about to call my grandparent’s house when I saw they had just phoned my cell a minute earlier. My brother answered the phone. Turned out my parents were ready to go home, but weren’t sure if I was driving there or not.
“I told Grandma I was driving out there today. Sure, that was almost four hours ago, but I’m still going! I almost turned around though, I was so pissed. So, Grandma didn’t tell you what she said to me today, huh? Ohhhh! Listen to this!…”
This is where I wish I had sound effects because me writing BBWWWAAAAAHHHAAA!!!” doesn’t do justice to the long assed peels of laughter rolling out of my brother; broken up by, “Awww, that’s messed up! BWWAAAHHHAAA!” and, “God, that’s so mean! BWAAAHHHAA!” and, his one stab at understanding, “You know, they (our family) can’t help it. They don’t realise how mean it sounds. BWWAAHHHAAA!…Uh, (giggles) you know, I wouldn’t normally (giggles more) laugh at you this much (giggles longer) but I’ve had a little of the Crown Royal. I can’t help it! BWWWAAAHHHHAAAA!”
I pulled the phone away from my ear and spoke right into the mic, “You’re not cool. You suck.”
Two minutes of BWWWAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAA later, I couldn’t resist the giggles anymore. I caved.
Once I was there, everything was fine. I said hi to everyone, wrapped the last of my presents, made some gift exchanges, said goodbye as my immediate family as they headed home and hung out with my Grandma awhile. It was a nice, pleasant visit. After being there for an hour, I packed up my bags and headed for home.
As I walked to my car, and waved goodnight to my grandparents, I wondered how much of this I’ll miss when they’e gone; when I’m a parent taking my children to visit with my parents, sharing memories about the time their great-grandmother said this or did that; or the day when I’m the grandparent saying outrageous things that prompt hysterical laughter from my grandchildren. I don’t know. I think that might be the point.
There’s no place like home,
Flo
December 28th, 2006
[Once again, I'm mining my emails for posts. Only Dennis would notice, but I feel the need to point it because I see nothing wrong with using my same pieces over and over and over again. I'm recycling!]
Last week, I took a temp job. While the money isn’t great, it’s enough to stop the hemorraging my bank account has experienced since my lay off last September.
My first day was a little rough, but things improved greatly by day two. It’s a smidge stressful to be situated into a new “family” that is soooooooooo far from my own experiences, it’s not even funny. Okay, that’s not true — it is pretty funny. Have you ever heard venture capitalists talk business? I swear to God, it might as well be Greek! I don’t understand ANY of it, though I hear it would start making sense in about five months. Since this gig is only for two months, that probably won’t happen for me!
My favorite part of this little culture clash was their plans for their annual Christmas luncheon at an LA’s strip club. Two days before the outing, the company founder couldn’t get enough of telling everyone about the party locale. At some point the next day, he started whispering the words “strip club,” whenever the subject came up (always by him!). I’m certain it was because of me! I give off a frigid vibe which is not entirely who I am. I could tell them stories that would shock them. I’m sure they would have invited me along to their luncheon then! I was told there will probably be plenty of opportunities for me to join them at other outings, but not the Christmas one as I’d only put in three days!
They are funny guys and very welcoming to me, even with the strip club nonsense, so fitting in has been easy. They don’t treat me like “the temp,” they draw me into their chats — so fun! Today, someone mentioned that he met Famous Businessman recently and was impressed that he was a nice, humble man. Didn’t he found Super Successful Company that made a ton of money, someone else asked. “Yeah, he’s a billionaire. He’s sixty years old and he’s boning a forty year old. Opps, sorry Flo. I forgot you were there.” was the reply. I put my fingers in my ears as the other person said, “Yes, excuse us, Flo. He makes love to a forty year old! That’s it!”
Minutes later, the other person checked his messages by my desk, the billionaire comes back in their discussion. They agree that “seeing” a forty year old woman is impressive when the man is sixty. I nod as if I know what they mean.
“Are you married, Flo?”
I paused, then said, “I’m separated.”
“Children?” I’m asked.
“No.”
“Want some?”
I looked up from my desk to face him, as others laughed out loud. “You mean right now?!”
He laughed, too. “No. One day?”
“Yes.” I giggled.
“How old are you?”
“Mid-thirties.”
“Mid-thirties? Hey, that’s better than a forty year old!”
“So you’re going to introduce me to the billionaire?” I did my best Catherine Zeta Jones inspired hair flip, but I doubt anyone noticed.
“Yeah, you should go out with him. He’s a billionaire!” The other man walks away from my desk, “He may not be funny or attractive, but that’s okay — he’s a billionaire!”
I stood up straight in my seat, “Wait a minute. He’s not cute? Hmmmm…”
Yes, the people are funny, but the job is boring. Boring. BORING. B.O.R.I.N.G….It’s non-stop boredom, and it gets to me. I tried everything I could think of to pass the time: I studied the office manual, made filing labels for the stack of legal size files that meet up to my eyes, filed them until I cut my cuticles open (quick pooling blood around my fingernails looked so dramatic!), practiced my office skills with online typing tests and excel tutorials, checked my email every five minutes (sometimes more) and on and on and on. I asked for things to do, but there’s not much happening during the holiday season. So, I sat and stared at my monitor as I brainstormed ways to occupy my time.
This afternoon, out of nowhere, I thought, “Office Haiku!” I was so excited by the thought that someone else someplace else (possibly in the office next to me) was just as bored as me. A quick search confirmed it — there are some veeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeery bored people out there. Check it out: Office Haiku, Adventures in Working.
Now before you send out an indignant letter explaining to me how true Japanese haikus don’t quite translate into english, before moving on to the high points of the American haiku and its reliance on metric feet, not syllables or some such explanation, let me point out that 1) I can search wikipedia, too; and 2) I still don’t understand that super complicated explanation about metric feet and its qualitative meter and the trophy, teridactyl and antipasta. If by some miracle, you do understand these terms, please dumb it down as much as possible, then email it to me. Until then, I decided to work in the very simple 5-7-5 syllable system. Here’s what I wrote:
Christmas lunch for staff,
Not invited, that’s okay,
Strippers not my thing
Isn’t this fun? Here’s another:
Baskets full of files,
Sliced open my cuticles,
Band-Aids stop the blood
I’m not entirely sure if those were constructed correctly. If they’re not, I bet I’ll hear about it!
Forced back into work
No money in my account,
Temping’s not so bad!
Adios,
Flo
December 27th, 2006
It’s been almost two months since I’ve checked into IXH. Though I think about it everyday, I do nothing to get back here. In fact, I drag my feet and come up with all sorts of projects that keep away from my site.
Three weeks ago, I played volunteer PA on an indie thriller film — that was soooooooooooo fun! All the male actors on set were cute young men, kinda flirty with some of the gals on set (not so much me), and, oh yeah, talented. The best part of the gig was meeting the former General Hospital actor (read: dreamboat) who I just loved, loved, loved from the minute I saw him walking into the city of Port Charles, joining Felicia as she returned from Texas. Sure, shortly after that his evil twin came into town, hell bent on killing someone over something (I don’t remember ‘cuz it was the mid-eighties, people!), but he was stopped and Doc took up shop at General Hospital. His character was a great psychiatrist always hard at work helping someone completely misunderstood or the really good person who made a big mistake, usually involving a dirt nap. He later fought vampires and demons — a tough sell even on a soap opera! — before his show was cancelled…Yep, ‘cuz I love General Hospital that was a FANTASTIC distraction (I was an intern there a long time ago…Don’t judge me!!)….Sigh.
That very pleasant gig was interrupted by my new temp job. As if that wasn’t enough to manage, I threw myself head first into my Christmas shopping — never mind that I don’t have much money to spend. I bet overspending is not exclusive to me this time of year!
I know this will sound kinda crazy, but I think my bout with Social Anxiety Disorder makes me feel uncomfortable writing here. My doctors have been tweaking my various medications so I could finally do all those little things that kept freaking me out: making calls, emailing resumes and (eeeekkkkkkkk!) staying calm during job interviews. It seems to be working, as I’m fitting into my new job answering phones! A lovely side-effect of all that chemisty is that I’m now able to get back to writing my little stories here without too much stress. (My chest feels a little tight, but I’ll get over it because I miss IXH and you, too!)
Even with all of my improvements in my daily social interactions, it took an email from a friend to get me back online. Here’s some of what he wrote. I’m saving the rest for a separate post ‘cuz there’s only so much my shrinking brain can process at once:
Flo - Long time, no speak. I hope you are doing well. As you may know, I check your web site regularly, but have seen no posts recently. Therefore, I thought you may not be at 100 prcent. Hopefully, I am wrong.
Here’s part of my response:
…I’m pretty okay, especially when I compare (this year) to last year. My achey bones and muscles are a lot less annoying/painful, I’m 30 lbs lighter than last year, my friend, “Ruth,” and I are in contact again…While things aren’t great, they aren’t awful either. I guess I’m almost happy. I have a giant grin on my face just thinking about that! The worst part of all of this divorce fallout might finally be over. Thank God!
So there you have it. I’m well and getting better every day…and very hopeful that I’ll keep inching forward to bigger and better things in 2007.
Best,
Flo
December 26th, 2006