Invisibly Ill

To Those Who Don't Believe in Invisible Illnesses,

 
Forgive me if these thoughts are too raw, too painful, or too forceful to be let out now.  I am usually one who waits patiently for hurts to dissipate throughout my body.

Not this time.

Not this time, for you have reduced me to a pile of rubble.  A walking panic attack.  An indignant, yet defeated, individual.

Did God create you without a heart?  I have not heard you squeak like the tin man.  Likewise, you have never heard me roar like a lion; for I have no courage left to fight you.  Perhaps we were both born without brains.

I have internalized each hurt endured by your attitude of omission, but I now have a few things to say to you.  Depression is REAL.  Sjogren's Disease is REAL.  And anxiety, for me - right now - is VERY, VERY REAL.  How is it that you have decided to hurt me most when I needed you?  When I reached out for help? I used to have a name for you but it no longer applies.  I know not what to call you now.

• 

Another Reason to Never Let a Teenage Daughter Drive. . . as if you needed another one. . .

Driving home from work earlier today, I thought to myself. . .  Self . . .you have absolutely nothing to blog about. . .

But then I got the mail.

And I quickly called the toll free number that was prominently displayed on the letter I opened. . .

_______________________

Me:  I just got a notice in the mail and I'm hoping you can clarify something for me.

Debt Collector:  Well first - even though you phoned in, Mam - I'm obligated to tell you that the conversation we are about to have qualifies as an attempt to collect a debt.   Do you understand?

Me:  Of course I understand!  I'm calling you, aren't I???   It says here that my "account" with the NY State Thruway has been placed in collections and I owe them/you $88.50?

Debt Collector: Yes, Mam, that's correct.

Me:  But this is the first I've heard of this.   I didn't even know I had an "account". Can you enlighten me?

Debt Collector: Now, let's see. . .  the first violation was on October 2, 2008. . . and the second  . . .

Me:  What does that mean, violation?  Speeding?  Was I speeding?  I live in Jersey! I don't even drive on the Thruway!

Debt Collector:  Not speeding, Mam.   EZ Pass. The vehicle went through the EZ Pass lane without a device.

Me:  But I have EZ Pass.


Debt Collector:  Well, I have the license plate right here. . . YEX 24P. . .is that your car?

Me:   Oh. . . it's one of my daughters' cars. . .

Debt Collector:  Well did she have a device in her car?

Me:  An EZ Pass device?  Knowing her, probably not.  But I'm sure she had her cell phone. . . and her iPod. . . .and her Tom Tom. . . she never leaves home without them. . .

Debt Collector:  Well, that's nice, Mam, but as I said, the next violation was two days later.  Tappen Zee Bridge again.  And the third. . .

Me:  Never mind. I get the picture. . . .but why so much money?

Debt Collector:   It was $4.50 for the toll and a $25 penalty for each of the violations.

Me:  But why didn't I know about this?  Those so-called violations were a full year ago?  Did you send prior notification??  Was my daughter confiscating it in the mail or something?

Debt Collector:  Mam, I'm just the debt collector.  They don't give me that sort of information.

Me:  I understand.  I'm just their mother.  And they don't give me that sort of information either.  What will it take to pay you off?

Debt Collector:  I'm authorized to settle with you for 75% of the debt, Mam, with an $8 processing fee, so that comes to $75.

Me:  Do you take credit cards?

And, as any good Debt Collector would answer:  We sure do!

and in case you're wondering. . .  yes, I feel a tad-bit violated myself tonight. . .

From the Ridiculous to the Sublime . . .while just a wee-bit off-"kilt"er, mind you . . . .

Did you ever have one of those moments when you realized that life was good?  Or funny?  Did you ever think life was funny?  How about quirky?  Life is definitely quirky somedays.  Is it not?

Well just last night Mr. Drip Dry decided to set up the webcam on my brandy new netbook, and instead of placing a test call on Skype he decided to video chat with Ponzi.   Upstairs.   In her room.   (Now don't tell me you all don't use your cell phones like an intercom system in your homes . . . it was just like that, only he was using my netbook. . . ) So anyhow there we were . . .all comfortable in our living room - and - like all good parents of teenage girls . . . chatting to a picture of our daughter upstairs through a little box . . . when Veggie beeped in.  From Scotland.  Veggie was beeping in from Scotland.  Even though it was some ridiculous wee-hour of the morning, Veggie was calling in from Scotland.   And then my husband and daughters got all techy on me and ended up three-way-video-chatting on something called ooVuu . . . and so I went to bed. . .

But the ooVuu thing is not what's important.

What hit me as funny . . . and crazy . . .and quirky . . .and wonderfully blogable is this. . .

There I was in my own living room, video-chatting with a daughter who was a few steps away, and another who happened to be an ocean apart!  At the same time!

Amazing,   Is it not?


And isn't it quite fortuitous that Veggie happened to have traveled to Scotland for the week? 'Cause you know, the only thing I even slightly miss about blogging on her cast-off-crap-top was the Up Yer Kilt sticker, and now she's promised me a replacement!  And I told her to throw caution to the wind and buy out Scotland.  Of stickers.  I'll have an Up Your "Kilt"er for everyone!

And just where was Trigger? you might ask.

I'm quite certain she was in the library.  Studying.   I'm sure she was in the library studying. Or in her room.  Packing.   Packing to come home.  This weekend.   Yikes!  In her room packing to come home this weekend!

A Prisoner of Love. . . Or Is it Just Poor Planning. . .

Okay.

I've had a bit of a tiff tonight with Mr. Drip Dry and I need your help.

'Cause I'm locked up here in my study and he's in the expansive downstairs. . . 'Cause I'm the one who stormed off in a huff, while he had the foresight to stay put. . . 'Cause I'm the one who only has a laptop and he has a big screen t.v. . . . 'Cause I'm bored already, but I dare not give in . . .'Cause it's completely dry up here and he has access to a myriad of beverages in the refrigerator. . . 'Cause I was right and, of course, he was wrong. . . .'Cause I think I forgot what we fought about, but he might remember. . . and because I thought I'd be good and mad for the night, but realize now that it's only 8:02 p.m.!!!

Entertain me people! I'm a prisoner of poor planning!!!

So tell me, dear readers. . . what would you do in my situation? Would you. . . .

a) Blog about your ridiculous fight (whose origins you can't quite remember, and - quite frankly - don't care about) to the entire blogging community????

b) Sneak downstairs like a stealth fighter and steal a bottle of wine? (Thank God for screw tops. . . heh???)

c) Make sure you conveniently use all the toilet paper on the roll in the master bathroom, 'cause he'll be looking for it in the morning?

d) Swish his toothbrush in the toilet a few times?

e) Chalk it up to experience, retire to your bed, and decide that next time, you'll be savvy enough to make sure that he storms off while you keep the balance of the house?

or. . .

f) All of the above.

Do tell, bloggy friends, do tell . . .

Oh. . . and don't pretend that stuff like this hasn't happened to you, 'cause it soooooooo totally has. . . .

Dear Mr. Police Officer Who Dared to Give Me a Ticket Last Year. . .

Well what do you know?

We meet again!

I know that when I wrote that letter of complaint to the Mayor and cc'd the Police Chief of Florham Park, N.J., I was still going to be expected to pay the fine.

And that was. . .well. . . Fine!

But I wanted them to know that police officers like you were making Florham Park, N.J. a very unfriendly place to shop, lunch, or visit.

Now I won't go into the whole sorry episode - although I still believe that sitting behind the steering wheel of a running car at 8:00 a.m. in the morning waiting for a teenage daughter to exit Dunkin' Donuts did not constitute "parking".

But let's move beyond that eighty-five dollar fiasco, shall we . . .

Don't you think I didn't recognize you this afternoon. . . approaching those cute young girls standing outside of the local grocery store giving out free samples and coupons of Ciao Bella gelato . . .
Did you not get it? They were making people happy! Yes, happy!!! End of summer + pink and yellow + cute little van + free gelato = HAPPY! Just because someone higher up their foodchain didn't apply for a permit for "soliciting on the sidewalk" didn't mean you had to swagger your sorry ass over to them and shut down their operation.

I have one word for you Mr. Police Officer Who Dared to Give Me My First and Only Ticket Ever Last Year. Or perhaps it's two words. . .

Kill.

Joy!

For more fun correspondence, go visit Kat. . . 'cause she's where it's at!




I'll be away for a few days. . . soaking in the last rays of summer. . . but don't y'all worry. . . I've left a few things for you while I'm gone. . .

Dear Daugther Who Texted Me from Appalachia

Dear Daughter Who Texted Me from Appalachia,

Did you learn nothing on your trip to the Gulf Coast after Hurricane Katrina? Or how about your previous trips to repair homes in Appalachia? Isn't part of this trip about discovering just how lucky you are as compared to those who have been born with far less???

Should you not be down on your knees right now thanking the stars above for your overstuffed drawers, your umpteen prom dresses, your precious cell phone, your almost-your-very-own car (okay, she doesn't know Roberta's back on the injured reserve list. . . and let's not tell her right now) your tap-tap make-up, your father's hand-me-down iPod, and the opportunity to go to the college of your choice without so much as thinking how you are going to pay for it???

Did you really need to text me during My Perfect Week to say (and I quote. . . ) My birthday's in 29 days. . . you better get me something SUPER?

Let me tell you something, young lady, you'd better pick up that hammer and knock some sense into that head of yours. (No! Not the nail gun, Trigger, I said the hammer!)

And don't you dare come back home until you do!

And - while you're at it - could you keep your father and sister down there for a few extra days as well? That would just be SUPER!!!

And to my oldest daughter,Veggie???? Even though I know that the immigration officials finally let you into the UK the other morning, it would be reassuring if you would answer my email (or comment right here. . . ) and let me know that you haven't been sold into the sex slave trade or something like that. . . 'cause that would totally ruin My Perfect Week. . .

As always, I'm just sayin'. . . .

A True Hallmark Moment. . .

I loved Marinka's post the other day about coming home early and imagining that she would find "Husbandrinka" with another woman. I guess the reason I loved it so much is that it fed into my own twisted sense of paranoia. (Did you really think I was a balanced individual??? If so, I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but being balanced is something I'm currently working on. . . ) And it also may surprise you to learn that I too - at times - have an over-active imagination.

So, as you all know, Sunday was Mother's Day. And, along with a few thoughtfully chosen gifts on my newest passion (becoming a more spiritual and intuitive being) my husband gave me a card that read To My Wife.

Remember those three words. . . To. . . My. . . Wife. . .

And to give that man credit, there was a lovely - if not all-too familiar - sentiment inside the card which read:

You deserve to hear this more often,

but I don't always take the time to say it. . .

I'm glad that you're my wife,

the love of my life,

and the heart of our home. . .

Hey, and it even had two sets of ellipses in it. . . what more could I ask for????

And so I went to bed happy.

But early yesterday as I was folding the laundry - putting away the same husband's unmentionables - I spied an unsent card peeking out from under his socks. A quick glance at the front of the card (you show me a woman who can resist looking at an unfamiliar greeting card in her husband's underwear drawer, and I'll show you a liar. . . ) revealed a black and white photograph of a pair of high heeled shoes tossed by the ocean's edge with a caption that read Beautiful Woman. . .

I quickly closed the drawer and began to think.

God Damn that man! Isn't this how women on t.v. find out their husbands are having affairs with. . . with. . .

With who???

With some woman who wears freakin' high heeled black pumps to the beach, that's who. . .

Talk about a Shoobie!!!

The tramp!

The nerve!

But why on Mother's Day??? Sweet Jesus! Don't tell me that hussie is married! Of course!!! And she's probably a mother too! I'll bet my bottom dollar that there are a couple of little girl vamps running around in pink high-heeled stilettos - tossing them carelessly by the ocean's edge before skipping off to do you-know-what with God-knows-who! But it's not their fault - really - with a husband-stealing- home-wrecking-mother like that. . .

And so, with a sense of renewed vigor and rage, I whipped open the drawer and the card once more and read. . .

beautiful wife. . .

beloved mother . . .

how lucky we are to love you. . .

Don't tell me this man has two families! Are those high-heeled hussies doing the hanky-panky in the sand dunes his children???

But - in a rare moment of rational thought - I realized that not even a Mom on Spin's life can be that insane. (I hope.)

And then . . . ever so slowly. . . and I mean s-l-o-w-l-y . . . the realization dawned on me that my husband had purchased that card for me. That's right. . . me! My husband had purchased a card that said Beautiful Woman. And it was for me! ALL ME!

And I was happy once again!

Until I realized. . .

He didn't have the nerve to give that card to me.

The bastard!!!!

Okay. I don't exactly give off the aura of being a sea-swept beauty. . . but would it have killed him to lie a little? Perhaps if he did, he could ditch the apologetic cards about how he doesn't tell me he loves me often enough.

Men.

Do we have to tell them everything?

And just to spite him, I wore my high heeled black pumps to work yesterday. I don't think he noticed them, but they sure hurt like a mother!

ThE pRoBlEm WiTh my lApTop

Those of you who have been reading this blog for a while know that i inherited my oldest daughter's unwanted laptop when she got a brand new macbook last fall.

And, being that this daughter is about to graduate from college in a couple of weeks, that would make this particular laptop. . . oh. . . about four years old. . . and the iT geeks in the technical support center had declared it officially 'broken'. . .

But my husband, having never met a device he couldn't fix, took took her cast-off downstairs to his workshop, did some sort of Frankenstein-type surgery on it, and declared it good as new!

i never complained.

not once.

9Well, maybe just a little. . . 0

now apart from some of the other drawbacks that this particular piece of electronics has to offer. . . like the fact that the battery no longer holds a charge . . or that it has college-kid stickers all over the place from my virtual vacation 9a.k.a. - her semester abroad0. . . . like the ones that read up yer kilt. . . and Espana. . . and london. . . and ireland. . .

Well, anyway, now it has a new problem. . .

i'm wondering if you can guess what it is////

p.S. First correct guesser gets to take my husband and his mad fixing skills for the weekend. . . plEASE1111

Voodoo therapy

I hate to say it, but I feel a tad bit disgruntled right now. And, basking in the glow of our recent therapy session, I'm going to take this opportunity to let the others in my family know how I feel . . .

• Trigger? After you left the house for your spring "Break" in Florida this morning, I took the opportunity to enter your room uninvited and free the bath towels that were caged in captivity there. Thanks to my efforts, 17 (yes, that's right . . .17!) of our towels are now washed, dried, and free to roam about the household again. . . and you know what's funny????? Each and every one of those towels asked me to wish you Bon Voyage!!!!
  
• Ponzi? According to reliable sources, you are now living your life in hopes of keeping your name (Ponzi) out of the cross hairs of my blog. Well, Ponzi? Although I appreciate your attempt at good behavior (or perhaps sliding just one notch up on the scale of deception) you - Ponzi - are leaving me slim pickings for blogging material. So Ponzi??? Your name has been spoken. Now return to your usual "annoying" self. . . would you?????
• Veggie? I can't think of anything you've done wrong since last I blogged about you, but let it be known that I have intentionally refrained from opening a certain Visa bill that arrived in the mail the other day until I get a refill on my blood pressure medication. Once I do, it could very well be a different story. . .
• And Drip Dry? If, and when, I want to needle you, there will be no doubt about it. Simply asking if you noticed that you forgot to start the dishwasher did - in no way, shape, or form - constitute needling! Let me make this one point perfectly clear. . . When I intend to needle you, I will use you like a pin cushion - leaving you to look and feel like a voodoo doll when I am finished with you!!!

There, I believe that little exercise was very cathartic . . . I feel much better!

p.s. Kasey? I'm sorry I used you as a scapedog in my blog post yesterday. You - out of all of the household inhabitants - didn't deserve that. My sincerest apologies to you and yours. . . You do not need therapy!
But I think the cat does.

And the award goes to. . .

I think I'm going with the Up Yer Kilt! motif for today.

Why?

I'm not really sure. Perhaps it affords me a way to be edgy without using bad words . . . to relieve some gnawing discomfort that seems to be troubling me today . . . and to grumble without - well - officially complaining.
So I am going to give an Up Yer Kilt award to the following anonomous people today (see if you can guess who they are. . . )

• An Up Yer Kilt award goes to whichever member of my household lifted my shampoo and conditioner from my shower - leaving me stranded once again on Old Spice Island. . .
• An Up Yer Kilter goes to my cat who refused to drink water from the toilet bowl this morning until I took a scrub brush to it at 6:30 a.m. . . . I hate to break the bad news to you, dear kitty, but it's a toilet - not an ever-flowing spring that miraculously refills from time to time.
• A special award in the Up Yer Kilt category goes to the one who borrowed my debit card yesterday and forgot to return it.
• An Up Yer Kilt also goes to a certain gentleman who allows his wife to drive around in a squeaky 1999 minivan with a missing hubcap without making an appointment to get the brakes fixed. (And when I say squeaky, I mean squeaky - so much so that the grocery cart retriever just told me I needed new brakes. . . Up Yer Kilt, Buddy!. . . and I don't mean you, Carlos, my favorite grocery store guy, I mean the person who won't make the phone call. . . I ask you - do I have to do everything????)
• An Up Yer Kilt award also goes to the family member who was home all day, but obviously did not think it was in her job description to empty the dishwasher.
• Add another Up Yer Kilt to all those who "piled on" throughout the day. . . I mean dishes. . . in the sink. . .
• And how about the Up Yer's award that goes to the one who left the t.v. blaring when no one was home? And the half-full glass of iced tea perched precariously on the arm of the sofa? And the rest of the house looking like an entire family of refugees were forced to leave at gunpoint on a moment's notice?
• The mail carrier even gave an Up Yer Kilt award to us today when he left a nasty note about parking too close to the mailbox on a "certified mail" receipt. I feel your pain, Mr. Mail Carrier. . . I feel your pain!
• And let us not forget the Lifted Kilt award to the one who came to my place of employment today looking for a handout. (No, it wasn't one of our usual destitute characters looking for their next meal, it was my own daughter shaking me down for money for a manicure!)

And if you, dear reader, do not want to be the recipient of my next Up Your's award, you'd better leave a comment here quickly!!!!