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verushka70So, strangely, my bf -- with whom I thought I'd broken up on 2/15 -- seemed to think we had *not* broken up. Actually, what he said was, "Oh, I thought you were just being depressed and getting your period." I was like, um, no, that's not due for 2 & 1/2 weeks, and so what if I was depressed? That doesn't mean it wasn't TRUE.
But against my better judgment, I let myself be somewhat talked out of the breakup -- with reservations. Didn't spent any more time with him that weekend (on Sat. the 16 I stayed home, but then I was sick and wound up going to the doctor Monday and getting on antibiotics. Again.).
Then Thursday 2/21, he calls me. "What are you doing?" he asks. I say, "Going to the movies."
"With who?" he asks indignantly.
"With MYSELF," I say. "I want to see 4 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days before it leaves."
"Oh," he says. "Can I come?"
"You pay your own way," I say.
We go. Against my better judgment, I spent the night at his house, but he didn't pester me for sex because we went to the last show so we didn't get home until after midnight and he had to get up early for work.
Friday 2/22 rolls around. I said I'd cook (we spend too much $$ eating out), and we could watch the last DVD in the BSG 1st season DVD set. I made pork chops with gravy, a white wine and sage gravy I made from scratch. Green beans with onions. I had started some dough for quick cinnamon rolls.
Unfortunately, my GI tract had other ideas. I had eaten some deli salami for lunch and it did not agree with me. (turns out the "sell by" date was 2/4 -- oops... In my defense, it TASTED delicious & smelled fine. I didn't even check the date until AFTER I felt sick.)
By the time I put our dinner on the table, I was sweating and nauseous. My bf inquired what was wrong; I told him I felt sick. I watched him pick all the onions out of the green beans. I went to lay down for fifteen minutes.
I came back in 15. He'd finished his dinner. He asked could he help me. I said would he help me finish the cinnamon rolls. All he had to do was spread the cinnamon/brown sugar/butter syrup (after it had been heated & melted on the stove) on the bottom of the nonstick baking pan. I mixed the dough, kneaded it, rolled it out, spread the other half of the syrup on it, rolled it up, and sliced it into little spirals to put in the baking pan.
While I was spreading the syrup, which was getting difficult because it had cooled and was no longer easily spread, he says to me, "I guess Pillsbury would be just too easy, huh?"
I just really wanted to slam the baking pan into his face. I was still nauseous, sweat was breaking out all over my body, and here I am making something from scratch when he'd rather have the chemical-loaded store bought crap anyway.
so I said, "You know, you have an incredible knack for taking a decent moment, even a good one, or sometimes one that's not good but it's still salvageable, and saying the ONE THING that can send it straight down the toilet."
He says, "You know what? I'm going home."
I go, "There's the door. You're fucking welcome."
He says, "Thanks for dinner, honey." And leaves.
About 20 minutes later -- after the cinnamon rolls are now in the oven -- I had that horrible saliva-gathering feeling in my mouth and ran to the bathroom. I threw up. Then vomited again. Then vomited a THIRD time.
Never did eat my own dinner. But around 1am, I ate half the cinnamon rolls. They were good.
Haven't spoken to him since -- except for less than 20 seconds, when he called on the other line while I was talking to a friend the day after. How I wish I had talking CallerID; I'd never have answered if I'd known it was him.
[I click over] Hello?
[him, as if nothing happened the night before] Hi, baby!
Me: Oh. It's you. I'm on the other line. I gotta go.
Him: Wait. I'm sorry for what I said last night. I acted like a jerk.
Me: Yeah. You did.
Him: Will you call me later?
Me: [long pause] Maybe. [CLICK]
I didn't. Haven't spoken to him since.
Aside from residual anger, what I feel mostly is... a HUGE sense of RELIEF, of a BURDEN LIFTED. Kind of like an abortion.
(1st trimester, < 12 wks... not a 4 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days mid-2nd-trimester. Ack.)
* * *
Overheard a typical hilariously deadpan remark at work last night. Our unit clerks -- we have two on nights AND two on days, we're just that busy of an inner-city ER -- are both cigarette smokers. They run outside for a cig once every couple hours or so, if it's not too insane. Sometimes, when it is REALLY insane, they need to smoke once an hour -- which it was last night (three area hospitals were on bypass, so we were getting all the non-urgent ambulance runs; when I started at 6:30pm, there were 28 charts of patients in the waiting room in the rack, and every one of our 28 ER rooms already had patients in them; it was nuts). (Names have been changed to protect the innocent.)
So here's what I hear.
Jackie: (to Carrie) God, I need to go out and smoke! [puts on her coat]
Carrie: Yeah, me too. [gets her coat too]
Jackie: Could you go out to the waiting room and get me some crack?
OK, maybe it's not that funny to people reading this. But when you've seen the same patients over and over for "cocaine-related chest pain and elevated CPK" like I have -- and I've only been working there since August! -- it is pretty funny to us. I'm sure drug deals have transacted in our waiting room. Fights and stabbings have, 'til Security broke them up.
Jackie is always cracking me up, fortunately. Last week we got our new Employee Handbooks. She's reading through hers, and all of a sudden, I hear:
Jackie: Uh-oh!
Carrie: What?
Jackie: [holds up Employee Handbook, points to "No Drug Policy" paragraph] This place is anti-drugs. [shakes head] I don't think I can work here.
What really took the cake was when one of the docs said, "Can you page Dr. Moeed?" and Carrie said to Jackie, "He wants Moeed" and Jackie said "Yeah, I want mo' weed, too..."
What makes it really funny is Jackie is about 58 and, I dunno, pretty rotund and conservative looking with glasses. You'd NEVER expect any of this to come out of her mouth.
*chortle*
Oh, yeah. We're supposed to get 2-6" of snow today-tonight. I want to move to Arizona... New Mexico... California... (No Florida -- too humid; my naturally curly hair would just be permanently frizzed into clown hair.) WE ARE SO TIRED OF WINTER HERE. When, oh when, will it end? soon, please, please, please, please...
oh, and two people got fired from nights. Both RNs. One sucked, & deserved to get fired. But I think the other girl was the victim of vicious gossip more than anything. I could be wrong, but... I heard the gossip. she never had a chance -- from jump.
But against my better judgment, I let myself be somewhat talked out of the breakup -- with reservations. Didn't spent any more time with him that weekend (on Sat. the 16 I stayed home, but then I was sick and wound up going to the doctor Monday and getting on antibiotics. Again.).
Then Thursday 2/21, he calls me. "What are you doing?" he asks. I say, "Going to the movies."
"With who?" he asks indignantly.
"With MYSELF," I say. "I want to see 4 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days before it leaves."
"Oh," he says. "Can I come?"
"You pay your own way," I say.
We go. Against my better judgment, I spent the night at his house, but he didn't pester me for sex because we went to the last show so we didn't get home until after midnight and he had to get up early for work.
Friday 2/22 rolls around. I said I'd cook (we spend too much $$ eating out), and we could watch the last DVD in the BSG 1st season DVD set. I made pork chops with gravy, a white wine and sage gravy I made from scratch. Green beans with onions. I had started some dough for quick cinnamon rolls.
Unfortunately, my GI tract had other ideas. I had eaten some deli salami for lunch and it did not agree with me. (turns out the "sell by" date was 2/4 -- oops... In my defense, it TASTED delicious & smelled fine. I didn't even check the date until AFTER I felt sick.)
By the time I put our dinner on the table, I was sweating and nauseous. My bf inquired what was wrong; I told him I felt sick. I watched him pick all the onions out of the green beans. I went to lay down for fifteen minutes.
I came back in 15. He'd finished his dinner. He asked could he help me. I said would he help me finish the cinnamon rolls. All he had to do was spread the cinnamon/brown sugar/butter syrup (after it had been heated & melted on the stove) on the bottom of the nonstick baking pan. I mixed the dough, kneaded it, rolled it out, spread the other half of the syrup on it, rolled it up, and sliced it into little spirals to put in the baking pan.
While I was spreading the syrup, which was getting difficult because it had cooled and was no longer easily spread, he says to me, "I guess Pillsbury would be just too easy, huh?"
I just really wanted to slam the baking pan into his face. I was still nauseous, sweat was breaking out all over my body, and here I am making something from scratch when he'd rather have the chemical-loaded store bought crap anyway.
so I said, "You know, you have an incredible knack for taking a decent moment, even a good one, or sometimes one that's not good but it's still salvageable, and saying the ONE THING that can send it straight down the toilet."
He says, "You know what? I'm going home."
I go, "There's the door. You're fucking welcome."
He says, "Thanks for dinner, honey." And leaves.
About 20 minutes later -- after the cinnamon rolls are now in the oven -- I had that horrible saliva-gathering feeling in my mouth and ran to the bathroom. I threw up. Then vomited again. Then vomited a THIRD time.
Never did eat my own dinner. But around 1am, I ate half the cinnamon rolls. They were good.
Haven't spoken to him since -- except for less than 20 seconds, when he called on the other line while I was talking to a friend the day after. How I wish I had talking CallerID; I'd never have answered if I'd known it was him.
[I click over] Hello?
[him, as if nothing happened the night before] Hi, baby!
Me: Oh. It's you. I'm on the other line. I gotta go.
Him: Wait. I'm sorry for what I said last night. I acted like a jerk.
Me: Yeah. You did.
Him: Will you call me later?
Me: [long pause] Maybe. [CLICK]
I didn't. Haven't spoken to him since.
Aside from residual anger, what I feel mostly is... a HUGE sense of RELIEF, of a BURDEN LIFTED. Kind of like an abortion.
(1st trimester, < 12 wks... not a 4 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days mid-2nd-trimester. Ack.)
* * *
Overheard a typical hilariously deadpan remark at work last night. Our unit clerks -- we have two on nights AND two on days, we're just that busy of an inner-city ER -- are both cigarette smokers. They run outside for a cig once every couple hours or so, if it's not too insane. Sometimes, when it is REALLY insane, they need to smoke once an hour -- which it was last night (three area hospitals were on bypass, so we were getting all the non-urgent ambulance runs; when I started at 6:30pm, there were 28 charts of patients in the waiting room in the rack, and every one of our 28 ER rooms already had patients in them; it was nuts). (Names have been changed to protect the innocent.)
So here's what I hear.
Jackie: (to Carrie) God, I need to go out and smoke! [puts on her coat]
Carrie: Yeah, me too. [gets her coat too]
Jackie: Could you go out to the waiting room and get me some crack?
OK, maybe it's not that funny to people reading this. But when you've seen the same patients over and over for "cocaine-related chest pain and elevated CPK" like I have -- and I've only been working there since August! -- it is pretty funny to us. I'm sure drug deals have transacted in our waiting room. Fights and stabbings have, 'til Security broke them up.
Jackie is always cracking me up, fortunately. Last week we got our new Employee Handbooks. She's reading through hers, and all of a sudden, I hear:
Jackie: Uh-oh!
Carrie: What?
Jackie: [holds up Employee Handbook, points to "No Drug Policy" paragraph] This place is anti-drugs. [shakes head] I don't think I can work here.
What really took the cake was when one of the docs said, "Can you page Dr. Moeed?" and Carrie said to Jackie, "He wants Moeed" and Jackie said "Yeah, I want mo' weed, too..."
What makes it really funny is Jackie is about 58 and, I dunno, pretty rotund and conservative looking with glasses. You'd NEVER expect any of this to come out of her mouth.
*chortle*
Oh, yeah. We're supposed to get 2-6" of snow today-tonight. I want to move to Arizona... New Mexico... California... (No Florida -- too humid; my naturally curly hair would just be permanently frizzed into clown hair.) WE ARE SO TIRED OF WINTER HERE. When, oh when, will it end? soon, please, please, please, please...
oh, and two people got fired from nights. Both RNs. One sucked, & deserved to get fired. But I think the other girl was the victim of vicious gossip more than anything. I could be wrong, but... I heard the gossip. she never had a chance -- from jump.
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dead horse beating; amusing crack crack; more snow AGAIN
Date: 2008-02-26 03:01 pm (UTC)Love you, max
P.S. Obligatory "hang in there" but I mean it!
Re: dead horse beating; amusing crack crack; more snow AGAIN
Date: 2008-02-29 01:47 pm (UTC)Oh well. The days are getting longer. Spring is coming. It can't be stopped, I keep telling myself! As inevitable as the winter is, it simply must give way to spring because the earth never stops turning around the sun. Yay!
Re: dead horse beating; amusing crack crack; more snow AGAIN
Date: 2008-02-29 07:42 pm (UTC)Did you see one of my recent posts? From Feb 28, 3:30pm? I managed to insert a few family photos into the post under the LJcut - my daughter, my granddaughter, my late husband, and me? Thought you might get a kick out of them. I needed to preserve the memories, somehow!
Love you, my dear! Your stories are among the very few I saved to my hard drive years ago (not counting my own!) because I didn't want to lose them. The stories dueSouth F/RK dom/sub. Fascinating. No one else did what you did with those stories, delved into Fraser the way you did....
Let's wait for spring together! And if it's any help, TGIF! Grin!
Love, max
Re: dead horse beating; amusing crack crack; more snow AGAIN
Date: 2008-03-02 10:46 am (UTC)I never did actually finish that F/K dom/sub series. I think about it from time to time, but I'm not sure I could do it justice after all this time.
I understand you guys got slammed w/snow on the east coast... hope it wasn't too bad!
And thanks for all the encouragement. You are such a dear. Much love to you!
Re: dead horse beating; amusing crack crack; more snow AGAIN
Date: 2008-03-02 01:32 pm (UTC)As far as the snow, we've been pretty lucky here in NYC - nothing sticking! And they predict warmer weather for the upcoming few days (with a little rain but that's okay).
I can't imagine you going back to write the F/K dom/sub series now, either. Not to say it wouldn't be delightful if you did, but I don't suppose you're in that headspace now - it's so many years.... I figure you said all you could, at the time.
Nothing is ever truly "finished" anyway. Maybe somebody who is coming to dueSouth for the first time in 2008 will be the kind of person and writer who says more about Fraser and Ray Kowalski along the lines of your stories. I'm always so impressed with the quality of the writing in fandoms, nowadays. SGA, dS, even The Sentinel. Of course, there's still plenty of not-so-great writing and silly-in-a-dumb-way stories. But the percentage of truly insightful writing, layered and deftly written, is astounding to me! Not everyone produces a "body of work," of course. Some fanfic writers give us a one-off, or just a few stories. But what they give is great.
I even find such writing in fandoms I've got no familiarity with! I just read a short piece based on "Blake's 7," which is unavailable in the U.S. either on dvd or vhs, I'm given to understand. The author put a couple of paragraphs on LJ to start the story off, then went under the LJcut. I continued reading and found a deeply moving story about folks I didn't know but somehow was "forced" by good writing to care about! It was the equivalent of original fiction....
Sorry for going on like this. I'm feeling a little wobley this morning and just wanted to breeze through the responses to my LJ comments. Apparently, I feel close enough to you to write a real response.... Who would have thunk it, after all these years and with so little contact? Life's funny that way.
Be well, dear.
Love, max