Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Well......bring in Beaver and now my job is in jeopardy. Beaver asked someone to homecoming. Last Thursday night, as I'm cleaning the kitchen, he comes in and drops the bomb on me. Our little town has a tradition of the cheerleaders decorating the boy's football lockers before the games. Beaver says he's going to put a note in his locker for one particular cheerleader asking her to the dance. He's going to give her his combination and ask her to get something out for him so she'll find the invite. I don't know if I was more in shock that Beaver was actually sharing this info with me - because he NEVER discusses girls with me - or with fact of who the cheerleader is. He has known this girl since the 3rd grade. They've become really good friends over the last two years. He picks her up for school every day. Ward teases him about her being his girlfriend and he always says, "We're just friends, dad!" They're friendship means a lot to him and I know it does to her, too. I remember having guy friends in high school. They were always the best friendships. No catty backstabbing that sometimes occurs when girls are friends. Beaver and the cheerleader have gone from being "just friends" to boyfriend and girlfriend. Beaver's first girlfriend. And this girlfriend isn't just any girlfriend. She's my boss' granddaughter. His first granddaughter....She's also the daughter of my co-worker. I work for the cheerleader's grandpa and with her mother.
Really Beav, of all the girls at the high school, you had to pick this one? Can you imagine how uncomfortable it is going to be to work here if something happens to their little budding romance? And by "if", I mean "when". Because let's face it, I don't really see 10th grade relationships having any longevity. I may be wrong.....wouldn't be the first time. So....someone will break up with someone. Let's say Beaver breaks up because, well he's Beaver and really, he's 15 and doesn't have it quite together yet. The cheerleader's heart is now broken and everyone's mad at me for giving birth to the little heartbreaker! Or, let's just imagine, Beaver does get it together. I mean he'll be 16 in a little over a month. Good Lord! My baby will be 16 soon! 16? Already? Really? 16 years. Wow! Ok.........anyway. Just imagine, Beaver has got it together and things are truckin' along fine. Then out of the blue - she breaks up with him! Why? Because he forgets their "3 month anniversary" - I mean who wants to date a guy that can't even remember their anniversary EVERY MONTH? Once again, everyone is mad at me because I gave birth to the insensitive lout. See? See what I mean? Either way, I'm done.........
Good Lord, there isn't enough Zin on God's green earth to get me through this relationship! I may have to up my game on this one.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Had a past client call me to do a market analysis on a home they purchased from me a year ago. They had remodeled the entire house and were looking to sell it. I did the market. It was tough because the house is located in a neighborhood with a mixture of some nice homes and some that look like crack dealers live in them! It was a tough analysis to do. These people are friends. They did a tremendous job remodeling the home. My market came in around $80,000. I explained that due to the condition of the surrounding homes, I just didn't feel it would sell for more.
Imagine my surprise when it hit the market today. Listed by another agent. For $124,500! Uh oh. What are the chances it could sell for that much? And make me look like the most inept agent in the world? I'll tell ya the chances! We're talking about June Cleaver here. The bad karma magnet. The one who can't seem to follow any law, except for Murphy's. It's going to happen!
How bad of a person does it make me if I sit here and wish their home would sit on the market, month after month, price reduction after price reduction - until it sells for $80,000? Well, in addition to being a whackjob and an agent with no feel for the market - now I am an evil woman, too. And old. Don't forget old. I'm an old, washed up real estate agent!
Some one pass me the wine please.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Thank you all for the prayers - they worked! Beaver found his key! Or, actually, Ward did. Anyway. It has been found and we are now the proud owners of two keys!
So......I'm headed to the motorcycle rally. .38 Special concert on Friday and Skynyrd on Sunday. (Kat, I'll be thinking of you when they play "Simple Man")
Now, for more prayers. Beaver is staying home. By himself. For the first time. Actually he's staying with his best friend. Whose parents are also out of town until Sunday. Yes. I have lost my everlovin' mind. This is Beaver we are talking about. And yes, I've decided he doesn't have to stay with his grandma. So.....prayers, please. We've been over the whole trust issue and how hard it is to get trust back once it's broken. He's a good kid. But he is Beaver after all! The child who just lost his key. And now, I'm leaving him for two nights by himself. With his best friend. So technically, he's not by himself. But has an accomplice. Great. Good thinking, June.
I can just hear it now:
I'm sure this will be a relaxing weekend!
"Where exactly where you, Mrs. Cleaver, while your son was pulling this
little stunt? A concert? Oh, two concerts??? With "your
friends"? Exactly how old are you, Mrs. Cleaver??? 40? Really?
Didn't anyone ever tell you it's time to grow up?"
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Do me a favor, please? Whether you believe, or not. Please, please, please say a little prayer to Saint Zita. A certain 15 year old in our house lost his keys last night. His ONLY set of keys. Well, not his only set. We have another key. It just won't start his car. See, I had a key made when we bought the car, but his key has a chip in it. The key from Hellmart? No chip. And so, it won't start the car. Called the dealership. They can make a key. Whew! $35. Not bad! But, they have to make 2. Ok, $70. Here's the kicker, I have to bring the car to them to program it. Which means I have to have it towed. $75, plus $35, plus $35.....and we are supposed to leave this weekend for a trip. A well-deserved and needed trip for a certain 40 year old in our house.
AND if the 15 year old doesn't find his key, a certain 42 year old will be looking to me as to why we don't have a spare key that works. Because, after all, IT IS ALWAYS MY FAULT.
People, if I don't get to take this trip, there may be some blood shed this weekend. So....if you don't mind, "Saint Zita, patron saint of lost keys, please help June so she doesn't lose her everlovin' mind"
Thank you. And somebody pass me a glass of wine.
PS The 40th was amazing and I have a story to tell. I did get Wally off to college without having a total breakdown. AND I did recover after Beaver made me wait in the waiting room while he had his physical - Mr. Bigpants all of a sudden doesn't need his Momma. But that's fine. I'm ok with all of this. Really! And I have pictures (not of Beav's physical!). And a post to follow. But first, keys people. I need those damned keys!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
So........well......Saturday is THE day. The day I turn the big, freakin' four oh! As in 40! I keep feeling like I should be evaluating my life. Reflecting on it. Something..... You know, come up with some sort of blog about what I've learned over my 40 years of life. Something deep. Meaningful. But......I've done nothing. Except for schedule a hair appointment. I mean, if I have to act all "Crap, I hate this turning 40 stuff" - I might as well be able to bitch about how crappy my hair looks. Which is what I always do after I get it done! Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to get my hair done on the BIG day! I mean what if Ward actually does remember my birthday and throws me this big ole surprise party. Only my hair is all jacked up and then I start crying when I walk in and everyone thinks it's because I'm so surprised and shocked, but really it's the hair? What then? I can't sit there and enjoy my surprise 40th birthday now, can I? I'll be all, "Why the hell did I get my hair cut today? Of all days....when will I learn?" Obviously, it's going to take me longer than 40 years to learn that you never, ever get your hair cut when something big is about to happen! But is 40 really such a big deal? I mean really. Think about it. Is it? HELLYA it is! And I for one am not showing up for my birthday - party or not - with this 'do.
Ok seriously, there will be no party. I am COMPLETELY ok and with that. The difference between 30 and 40? I WASN'T ok with no party at 30. I was just sure Ward was going to have a surprise party for me. Just like I had done two years earlier for him. I completely caught him off guard. It was the surprise party to end all surprise parties. So.....when my birthday came around - MY 30TH BIRTHDAY - no less, I just knew he was going to surprise me. I got dressed that day. Nothing was said. I just kept thinking, "Boy is he ever good at this." 6 pm came. Nothing. 7, we're still sitting there watching TV. I think maybe I'll go apply some lip gloss, you know, for when everyone shows up. 8pm - Nothing. 8:30 he turns to me with this look on his face. "I completely forgot your birthday!" Still, I'm thinking, "Wow, he's really playing the part." Another 1/2 hour later, I figure out he wasn't kidding. There was no surprise party. And I was pissed. It's been good ammunition over the years. We laugh now. I still pull it out every once in awhile. You know. When he's rubbing it in that I've forgotten something. "Yeah? Well I never forgot my wife's 30th birthday!" That usually shuts him up.
I haven't done so much in the way of reflecting. But, I do keep wondering when in the hell I'm going to get my shit together? Because let's face it, if you don't have it together by 40, chances are.......it ain't gonna happen. Great! I'm gonna be this emotional, touch 'o lush, drama queen teetering on the edge of insanity for the next half of my life, too? Wow.....
I'll take that glass of wine now!
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Why are some people so hellbent on being so damned difficult to deal with? Do they not know I forgot to take a picture of Beaver's first day of his sophomore year? (Yes, I'm sure I'll be paying for that when he drags me into therapy -"Oh yeah? You loved Wally enough. You took HIS picture. You always forget about me!") Do they not know that I am on the VERGE of turning 40? Don't they realize it's been three weeks since I've seen Wally? (yes, Beav, it is all about Wally. Go ahead and tell that to the therapist, too.) Don't they know I am having a bad hair day. AGAIN? And that I have 52.43 1/2 things to do in the next 3 hours?
Then why, pray tell, do they insist on adding more crap to my life that - in my weakened state- drives me to drink. MORE. Hmmmmm?
Some people. I swear!