golf on an October day

I’ve checked my email two dozen times today.  Why?  It’s time to start stirring up venom and locusts.

Impatience is venom and locusts.

Hmmmm...what about venomous locusts?  I Googled and found no evidence.  So I saw a photo of a locust and made him (perhaps her) venomous (see fangs).

 

Anyway, the dark mood is setting in as I wait for those in power to take action on my behalf.  Monday will be the fifth business day of waiting since I resubmitted my change request...for the 4^th time !!!!!    It’s going to turn ugly as I apply pressure to my chair and advisor to act like they care what happens.   

ANYWAY, let’s remember today for what it was – a fabulous October day in the beautiful Ohio River valley.  Mid 70s, clear air (rare), and plenty of sunshine.  Someone and I met Someone’s dad on Sandy Creek Golf Course.  Someone’s dad has a new driver; he was trying it out today.  He hit it pretty good for a brand new club.  I’m a bit envious because I use the Ladies’ model of the same series for my 3-wood.  I like it, and would get myself a driver but I’m hitting my current driver sweet these days.

Today was a great day for golf.  That course we played is out in the county.  In the hills surrounding the holes, walnut and hickory trees attract squirrels, and you can hear flocks of wild turkies scavenging for food all around.  It’s almost heaven for me.  Everywhere you look, you see squirrels hippity hopping and always busy with purpose.

October Sky

 Today I didn’t play so well, but I haven’t played much this fall.  I played well enough that it was fun to be playing.  I par’d the hardest hole on the course - #1, and some other holes.  I birdied #6, a par 3, with a 10-foot putt.  On #7, my drive rolled up within 20 feet of the postage-stamp sized elevated green upon which no grass survives for long.  Then I proceeded to hit my chip shot into the rough.  DAMNIT.  Then I chipped out of the rough, over the green into a bunker.  Then, I chipped onto the fringe.  F!  Then I putted on, bouncing, bobbling over sand, fungus, and  grass whiskers....5 feet from the hole.  It’s what we call a 2-putt green.  I took both putts to hole it.  We all agreed that the #7 green was a 2-putter because of its horrid condition.  That fabulous drive wasted!  

We golfers can replay an entire game just like that when we want to.  My favorite hole today - the number 5, par 4.  I nailed my drive – it rolled up into Dolly Parton’s cleavage – I would call it the-space- on-top-of-the-hill-between-the-two-knolls, but Someone’s dad remarked that the men in his league liken the knolls to certain anatomy of a famous country music singer.  That was my most awesome shot of the day.  That was the second best golf-shot I’ve ever hit in my life.  Gosh, that was FUN!!!

perfection reflection

Sometimes my blog makes me happy.  I like to scroll back through the posts and look at the pictures, but I don’t reread my stuff very often.  Whenever I do, the rampant mistakes bug me and beg for correction. That’s how it was with papers I had to write for courses; I would edit and revise until the deadline and then submit wishing I had time to comb through it all again.  Nothing is ever good enough.  It’s not really that I’m a perfectionist, but more of a pessimist.  How could my professors overlook such blatantly careless mistakes?  Some were assholes enough to fail me on a 20 page paper because of a few careless grammar errors...as if content is meaningless if you split an infinitive AND put an extra space after a period. 

 It’s the same with my proposal.  I just want to keep revising it to make it better.  I read through a few paragraphs the other day because I was looking for something, and for the first time I thought it sounded pretty good.  Maybe I’m finally OK with it, but I best not get too happy because at some point, hopefully this year, it will go for professional editing. 

 

 Sarah reads my blog and told me she likes it because it gives her a chance to learn about me as a person who is not just her mother.  I’ve been thinking about that.  What do people think about me when they read my blog?  It’s kind of scary, but then again, few people read it and I don’t put any dark secrets out here.   

Sarah sent this video to me tonight – just a little something to let me know she was thinking about me.    When she sends things like this, it reminds me that she knows me pretty well (even if there was no blog). 

 

visiting heaven

I have been returning to read this article the past few days:

http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/sideshow/heaven-real-says-neurosurgeon-claims-visited-afterlife-213527063.html


Wouldn’t it be a great comfort to believe what this man says? His story is not too different from others I’ve read by people who died, went to heaven, and came back. A good friend of mine from work has a good friend (at work) who fell off a barge, went under it, and surfaced behind the towboat several minutes later.  They were able to fish him out of the river and haul him up on deck. He was already dead as best they could tell, but they started CPR and they said they thought he had a weak pulse by the time the paramedics got to him on shore.  They said when he regained consciousness, he was mad as a hornet. He liked where he was and didn’t want to be brought back to the world. It must be a very good place.



I’m not sure what I expect it’ll be like to die, or to be dead. I think death is a process and when the time comes, it’ll all seem very familiar. It’s sort of what I think about childbirth. I’m not sure anyone really needs childbirth classes, although it was comforting to learn what was supposed to happen and what I was expected to do.  I did classes both times – the first time because I really was completely ignorant. The second time, because a number of years had passed and I wanted to find out if anything had changed.  The point is, childbirth happens whether you really know what to do or not.  Perhaps the benefit of having classes is so the mother-to-be can be better prepared, which may ultimately make it easier for staff who are trying to facilitate the birth. I was grateful to have people standing by who knew what to do when my babies were born, but it would have been more comfortable for me if people would have just left me alone to get business done.

Of all the things Dr. Alexander mentioned that were communicated to him as he was escorted by those ethereal creatures, the most wonderful for me would be to hear “There is nothing you can do wrong.” Can you imagine a world where you can’t do anything wrong? What a game-changer that would be! How would that work for everyone to be right all the time? It sounds like a very peaceful existence.

what not to wear

Yesterday, I took my girls to a big shopping mall about 40 minutes away from where we live. My cold-weather clothes are really raggy, so it’s time to replace some of them. I hate shopping. I’m completely out of the habit of shopping in stores, and it’s all very frustrating and annoying to go to the mall when something is needed. I started depending on Internet retail when the twins were born because it was just too much trouble to go shopping with two little ones.  Now when I walk into a store, it’s almost overwhelming to see so much stuff with so many distractions and people in the way.



At the mall entrance, I handed money to each girl and told them to meet back in two hours. It’s a huge mall, all spread out, with large department stores at 5 corners, smaller shops between, and kiosks throughout. Teens go primarily for trendy stuff. My girls cheerfully took the money and set off for great adventure.  Emily always wants to look in Victoria’s Secret, and Erin loves Charming Charlie’s, a huge place that’s all about jewelry and other accessories.  Erin is queen of accessories. I give little thought to accessorizing. I carry the same purse until it falls apart and wear the same earrings for weeks at a time.



Some people like the cluttered atmosphere that is so prevalent in many stores, but not me. I walked into one store because it had some interesting things in the window. The racks were so close together it made me almost claustrophobic. I stayed toward the front of the store, trying to look at clothes mashed tightly together on the racks, but was distracted by faceless manikins that were standing around everywhere, all dressed in full outfits with too many extra things - matching necklaces, bracelets, pins, earrings, hats, belts, sashes or scarves, purses, and of course matching shoes. Who has time to put that much thought into their daily attire and then to put it all on, and take it all off at night? It must be women who don’t get up and have a job to go to, or women who are desperate for somebody to look at them. The store was becoming suffocating and then I looked down and saw I was standing on a leopard-print rug. All those spots - too much. Then I looked up to see a giant crystal chandelier hanging over my head.  Multi-faceted light reflecting all over the place off hundreds of dangling prisms - way too much! Overloaded, I left. 

I suppose I am just a dreary dresser, no risks and no pizzazz. I tend to buy classic things that stay in style until they’re completely worn out. I found a top I liked and bought it in 3 colors. I found pants that fit and bought them in two colors. Mission completed in just under 30 minutes, and then I started looking at shoes. The styles for casual shoes are just shit this fall.  There was nothing appealing in the entire mall.  After walking around for an hour, I decided to just buy shoes online. Then I wished I’d just done the whole shopping trip online – it would have saved me lots of money.



The girls met me at the appointed place and time, and asked if we could have lunch.  All that money spending made them hungry, and they didn’t want to spend their (used to be my) money on food. They both wanted to go to Steak ‘n Shake; it’s a rare thing when they agree where to eat. Steak ‘n Shake is a place Someone would never step foot into, so I took them over there. Someone is very picky about food and restaurants. It was decent food at a reasonable price. I’d go there again (but of course, not with Someone).

misfortune cookie

It is my destiny in this life to always get the fortune cookie with the shittiest fortune in it.  It always happens to me!  In more recent years, I insist that everyone pick their cookie first so I can take the one that nobody picked.  Even when I have no responsibility for my fortune, I still always get the shittiest one!  Well F me every time I open a fortune cookie.  WHY DO I KEEP DOING IT?  I should Just Say No and pass.   They aren’t even that tasty.  I don’t need them, but I can’t seem to resist.  I want a stupid slip of paper to tell me something good is going to happen.  Is that too much to ask?



I’m plenty familiar with failure lately...more familiar than I want to be.  I've had enough failure to last me a lifetime.  If success would just show itself, I promise to grovel and kiss its feet or ass or anything else it wants kissed. 

Last night, Sarah and a fellow musician performed close to our home (about a 20 minute drive from where we live) in a coffee shop.  Sarah is going to be doing more gigs with this man, but this was the first time they performed together and I wanted to hear them.  I drove down, got a good seat, started to listen to their first song, and my chairman texted me.  We had texted all day and the last I’d heard, the board was going to render a decision about my change request before close of business yesterday. 

Then this ...

I had to leave the show, drive home, open the application I’d submitted weeks before, look up the page number, and send him an email that was basically exactly everything on pages 40 and 41 of the application.  For real?  It wasn’t enough for me to say, “Look on the last page”.  No, they had to know the page number of the last page.  And guess what?  They didn’t decide until today. 

Only guess what, their decision is that they still say they don’t know what I’m asking for.  UNBELIEVABLE!  They said for me to resubmit the documents.  WHY?  My chairman said to just leave what I have and add on to restate it all again.  For God’s sake, the thing is already extremely repetitive and 41 pages long.  I’ve stated the changes forwards, backwards, and sideways.  I wish I could just sit in front of them and let them ask me as many questions as they want.  Maybe the real problem is that my chair doesn’t read my stuff and can’t answer their questions.    

Anyway, I’m not going to even get worked up over it again.  There’s no point.  It’s Saturday night and the bourbon bottle is open.  No point spoiling a good evening with all this bullshit I have no control over. 

So last night, I did the damned email and raced back down to the show.  Sarah and her friend made some lovely music together.  At one point, Sarah invited Erin to come up and sing a song with her.  I was shocked – Erin did it.  What a treat for me to have both my girls singing together – and of course I had to snap a photo of that!  I might never see it again.    

Erin makes her debut

 

derailed

Collin Firth sums it up pretty damn good for me tonight. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a9gmdPTu9lM

 

My advisor sent an email to all three of my email accounts last night, and even called me this morning to assure me I would have a decision from the board today.  TODAY!  I’ve had hope since last night that my waiting would finally, FINALLY, be over.   OH HELL NO.  I got absolutely no news at all.  Nothing but more waiting for me.    

 

What I find interesting is that a month ago, my advisor said the only person who could petition the board was my chairman.  The email last night said SHE petitioned the board on my behalf.  Really?  Did she lie to me before, or maybe she’s lying to me this time, or maybe she’s just telling me whatever she thinks I want to hear or whatever will cover her ass.  I’m not in a good mood – does it show?

 

It makes me want to go do things that a person shouldn’t put in a blog.   

It makes me think I’ll never finish.  It makes me wish I never started.  It makes me wish lots of things that aren't good. 

Sunday funday

The weekend ended abruptly and I’m back in the throes of another work week. Monday. Need I say more?

Sunday was a fun day. Someone committed to mowing his dad’s lawn and watching the final round of the Ryder Cup, and the girls were out of town.  The IRB continues to ignore my change request, so rather than sit home and stew about how the whole university is screwing me over, I drove over to spend the day with Sarah.  We get little time together with just the two of us these days.  For many years, it was always just the two of us.  Her dad and I split up when she was a little baby, and I didn’t start dating Someone until she was eight.  We lived together in a small apartment until Sarah was three years old - practically in each other's faces whenever we were home together.



 
Those were good years for us (for me, anyway…Sarah might think differently). She was a chatterbox for sure, and there was no one to listen besides me. When she was quite young, sometimes I asked her to be quiet for a few minutes…just give my ears a bit of a rest. Invariably, the task was too much. She could be quiet for maybe 20 seconds, then she would start a constant stream, “I’m being quiet. Did you think I could be quiet for so long? Have you ever heard me be this quiet for so many minutes? I’m being so quiet. How much longer do I have to be quiet?” It’s no wonder though, she really couldn’t help herself. 



Sarah and I went out for Chinese food and shopping yesterday. She insisted I try on some ridiculous shoes – big platform gold sparkly shoes with like 5 inch heels. Who really wears shoes like that? I guarantee you it won’t be me! At her insistence, I put one of the shoes on and stood there like a stork (on one foot) feeling silly wearing that sort of shoe with blue jeans and a Puma striped running sock on - it looked like something a clown would wear.  Just as Sarah pulled out her phone to snap a photo, I fell off the shoe and about broke my ankle. We both had a good laugh and I declared playtime over. I did convince her to try on an equally silly pair of red shoes. She put them both on and staggered around a bit. We marveled at how tall she was with them on – at least a whole head taller than me. I snapped the photo and then she stumbled and took them off. Silly shoes for women who will wear such ridiculous things – a woman must be desperate for attention to try to function in shoes like that.  (But I have to admit, they look good on her!!)