I'd normally make excuses for my long absence from this forum, but really, sometimes my life just gets in the way of writing. I realized though that I miss this forum, as it seems to be a lifeline of sorts. It is especially missed when my life gets super complicated or painfully stressful. (Which seems to be my current state). So much has happened lately that I wondered if I needed therapy and some really good drugs. Then I figured out that I was just really hormonal and that it was time to purge some bad juju from my life.
Where to begin? Let’s call 2011 a transitional year for me. I have been coming to grips with turning 35, having shrinking ovaries and no man prospects in sight. I have dipped my toe in the online dating venue (again) and am struggling to figure out what cupid is just OK? My younger sister gave birth to probably the most perfect baby I have ever met. (I may be a bit biased, but I will say that my niece is a pretty amazing little lady). My dad finally left the hellish job of his that cut and burned him and made him think that not working on Saturday and Sunday meant he was on vacation. My dad leaving that job was the best thing ever – except that it meant my parents would be moving. To Ohio. I haven’t lived at home for over 10 years, but it is weird to think of there no long being a home. I mean, I still struggle with going there and not being greeted by the dogs of my childhood. But now, I can’t just pop over on a whim and have some chill time with my parents. I am thrilled for them (they are closer to their granddaughter and closer to my mom’s sister), but I am a little sad for me. Of course this move means that this has been the summer of Packapolooza.
Packing a house that your parents lived in for 36 years is not fun. Not really at all. My dad doesn’t want to help all that much and since he is working 12 hour days and living in another state. My mom has been working her tail off, but there is a lot to do and she reminisces about every little thing, so it takes a long time to sort through a box. My mom is also a bit of a HIT (“hoarder-in-training”). I blame growing up with not a lot of money for her want to save everything. She is not a big fan of Deb and me as we have been forcing her to purge some things. It is a tight rope we are walking as we spend our summer weekends packing, spackling, painting and repairing. If I were to write a story about my summer vacation, for the most part it would be about packing.
Aside from packing, I got to take a relaxing family mini-vacation (no Portland ’08 incidences). On that trip, my parents and I visited a good friend of mine. She has lived by my Ohio relatives for over a decade, but every time I have tried to visit, family has gotten in the way – you know how it is when visiting family, it seems that every minute of every day is scheduled. Never have I been so glad that I made time, because less than a week later my friend was in a severe boating accident on her birthday (which happens to be the day after mine). She is on the road to recovery, thank God, but there is nothing like a tragedy (her dog and close friend were lost in the accident) to shake you to the core and remind you what truly is important. I am devastated for my friend and the losses she has suffered, but grateful for the reminder that life is to be treasured and not taken for granted.
This was a helpful lesson as my own birthday celebration was a colossal disappointment. I say disappoint, because it didn’t go the way I hoped. It was nothing more than that though. What happened to my friend was a tragedy, my own drama (well really, someone else’s drama) was merely annoying – not life altering.
I am going to attempt the short version of the 35th birthday not-so-fun shenanigans otherwise known as Mr. S and his drama caravan. In my gut, I knew that this birthday was going to be off. I should say flat out, I love a birthday. Not just my birthday, but anyone’s birthday. I love to celebrate a birthday. I love to honor someone’s birthday. I just simply love a birthday. My birthday plans for many years have been hanging with my mom during the day and then something with friends at night. I thought 35th was a biggie, so I was looking forward to doing something big. I should’ve known when Hallmark didn’t make a 35th birthday card that things were not going to go as planned. My mom was in Ohio for my birthday, so I took a surrogate birthday date to the Paul McCartney concert at Wrigley Field. I should’ve stopped with that. It was a great show! (Paul is awesome and he even remembered it was my birthday. I appreciated the “Happy Birthday” singing telegram!)
Mr. S had said that I needed to do something for my birthday with friends. Since I was out of town the weekend before, I was going to the concert on my birthday and I work on Saturday nights, this left Friday after my birthday. While I love a big party and have thrown myself some great ones, I just wasn’t feeling it this year. I tested out a million ideas and settled on Navy Pier’s beer garden for some dancing to cheesy cover tunes and a bar in BUCKTOWN (can you believe I went so far out of the neighborhood?). I invited a few friends, thinking that it would be a fun, chill evening. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Thankfully my friend Meghan didn’t have to work and the Bears canceled Family Fest, because that meant that 3 whole people met me out at Navy Pier. Mr. S was supposed to head there with me and Zee and her husband. Instead, Mr. S got trashed and required sobering up food at 7 PM. The plan was to be on the pier until around 9:30 and then head to BUCKTOWN. (I am going to keep shouting this, because it was apparently a big deal for people to go there). Daisy, who was working, was going to meet us there.
I kind of had a bad taste in mouth because of the sobering Mr. S up debacle that made it so I a) went to my birthday “party” alone and b) would’ve been alone if not for the aforementioned circumstances. However, I am an optimist, so I still herded everyone off the pier and we headed to BUCKTOWN to meet up with my friends. In a tragicomedy sort of way, I walked into the establishment, pooh-poohing the need to be shown to a table because my friends were already there and took a lap through the establishment. Then I took another. Then I acknowledge that though they were there 15 minutes before, my friends had all left. Apparently Mr. S spent too much money waiting for me and waited too long for me to actually stay and celebrate my birthday with me. So Mr. S, Zee and Hubby were at another location. Daisy was texting reasons why she was so delayed. At this point, I was pretty much done with the whole evening and ready to just call it a Friday night and not a birthday thing. Which is of course, when Mr. S, Zee and Hubby decided to make a return appearance.
Mr. S made a to-do about being there, leaving HIS FRIENDS to go to BUCKTOWN to celebrate with me. Mind you, it is now 11:15 PM, 4 + hours after we were meeting up. With their entrance, I stuck a fork into the idea of actually salvaging the evening. I took a moment outside to collect myself. This moment was disrupted by Mr. S extolling his virtues – how he went to BUCKTOWN, for ME; left his friends, for ME…et cetera, et cetera – these statements were thrown in my face several times over the next 24-hours. You can just assume that if I mention Mr. S, he is pointing these things out to me.
So, Mr. S is a legend in his own mind, Zee and Hubby are fighting (again) and I am trying to figure out how the night went to hell in a hand basket. A lot of shouting and tears later, we go back to the neighborhood (because though Mr. S has gone all the way to BUCKTOWN, I just want to go home) and head to a Mr. S loved bar. Where the girls have low IQs, the music is too loud and the overall vibe is drunk, post Cubs. Good times. This is when Mr. S decides to be a marriage counselor and he forces Zee and Hubby to talk. And by talk, I mean shout. Meghan and I drink our warm-ish beers as fast as possible, so that we can get out of dodge. We do and head to Mr. S place #2. Thankfully, though I love them, we lose Zee and Hubby. Of course, this is when Daisy decides to call and check in, knowing the night is a train wreck. Cue Mr. S deciding that the evening will now be about Daisy’s lack of friendship, as she has missed 4 BIRTHDAYS and is a PHONEY friend. (It goes without saying that one of these birthdays is his, which is the crux of the issue). And so now we have drunk Mr. S trying to pick a fight with Daisy, on “my” (his) behalf.
We end up seeing Daisy at the very end of the night; because I was seeking a quiet night cap, a bathroom and some cigarettes (can you blame a girl?) Mr. S runs out of the bar – yelling at her and begins drunk, angry-texting her. I apologize to Daisy for this, because although I am upset about her missing my birthday, that is my business, not Mr. S’s. I stick a fork in a lame, drama-packed misadventure and head home --thankful that the night has finally come to a close.
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