shishnit.org

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The Island of Poordom

Yes we live there…sometimes.  I mean we have excursions to the island and then sometimes we actually live on the mainland where funds seem to grow on trees.

Rick took a 2nd job.  He’s making pizza’s at a restaurant.  Expensive high end pizza’s…we’re not talking dominoes.  He’s still working at the moving company. It’s been a crazy few days of juggling.

On Friday (or was it Saturday..the day’s are running into each other lately…) he worked during the day at the moving company.  He was running late and had to be at the restaurant at 4 p.m.  At 5 p.m. he called and told me he had already called the restaurant manager and told him he’d be in late. I called the manager too (something I rarely do…I think this is the first time I’ve ever called on my husband’s behalf.  THE FIRST! 

While driving the moving truck back to port (the office) the truck broke down. I donned my Wonder Woman outfit and his restaurant clothes and shoes and jumped into my not so invisible plane and drove out to where he was…he had me turn around once saying the truck had started, but alas it broke down again…and I turned around yet again…and went out to meet him at the moving truck.  I picked him up.  He took over at driving and he changed his moving clothes for his restaurant clothes..mostly in the car on the way.  I was Wonder Woman and he was Superman.  And when we arrived in the back parking lot of the restaurant he jumped out and swapped his work shorts and sweat pants for his restaurant jeans and shoes in the parking lot.  It was stressful..this juggling of two jobs.  I felt guilty because it was I who was having insane bouts of worrying about being struck on the Island of Poordom or would it be my fear of landing on Recession Row and not being able to get back out. I’ve lost so much in the past that sometimes I just get the damn jitters about things. It’s really irrational fear.  I am so on top of finances in some ways and in other’s I have more debt that I’m comfortable with.  I’m not comfortable with any debt really.  I hate it. Loathe it in fact.

So…after dropping my Superman off at his second job (we left his personal truck in the moving company port parking lot) and had a moment to catch my breath after solving that crisis….it dawned on me.  My husband was stressed the hell out trying to rush from one job to another job all because his wife has stressitis about the island of poordom.

Do we live on the island of Poordom?  I think that’s a subjective question because I say no the majority of the time because we have such a lovely life together.  But then on the flip side I look around at everyone losing their jobs, their homes, etc. and I get this pit in my stomach.  A pit of fear.  It’s highly irrational, but then again is it?  So many people do not plan for emergencies and live only for today.  I could go buy a new car….in fact part ofm e wants to so bad, but the biggest part of me cannot rationalize it because of my irrational fear of the Island of Poordom.  My goal is to make twice as much as I currently make.  I know that’s a crazy harsh goal, but it’s there in my head.  Not because I want to spend twice as much as I currenty earn but rather because I want to save exactly what I make now each month.  I’m insane..I know.

Rick is working right now at the moving company.  He’s moving my hairdresser and her two young foster son’s.  I, of course, am a walking advertisement for the moving company he works for.  Most people seem to trust me when I tell them he’s a great guy who will come and do a great job.  She called and requested him.  That makes me insanely proud inside. I have a husband I can be proud of and in turn know that other’s will be happy with him as well.

Rick has work from around 7 a.m. to around 11 p.m. every day for the past 4 days (I think…again I’m bad at keeping track of day’s lately) and he amazes me.  I dropped him off at the restaurant the other night and as I drove away….shining up my Wonder Woman bracelet’s after some harsh clinking trying to resolve a crisis…I had this overwhelming pride in Rick…it filled first my mind, then my heart, then overflowed from my soul.  I pulled my wondermobile over and I cried…tears hot and wild….and I wiped them away from my smiling lips.  I love that man so much it both terrifies and amazes me.  

I gave him a Valentine’s Day card yesterday..he had nothing to hand me because he’s been non-stop working.  He didn’t open it. I asked why.  He said, “Because I had nothing to give you yet.” My superman thinks about making me happy, he thinks about giving….he has no idea how happy he makes me.  He’s so selfless.  He’s so amazing.  Not to mention, his cape..it’s hott!! 

It’s hard to ever feel poor..it’s hard not enjoy this island we work so hard to maintain…this sometimes Isle of Poordom, because my life is truly so rich in so many ways.  I never have a day when I don’t feel lucky to be working so hard to have all we do have…with someone who’s willing to jump through hoops of fire with me to have this life.

Filed under : love and marriage, Rick, finances, economy
By shishnit
On February 15, 2010
At 5:33 pm
Comments : 0
 
 

if “you” only had a brain

Trust me I’m all for education and brain power.  I’m getting my Master’s degree right now. I’m even in favor of good management skills, something few few managers and business owners really have.

Today in a cultural diversity management class I explained that this is Florida, it’s a right to work state and your boss can fire you for being late to work even one time. I pointed out that my husband’s boss at the moving company yammers about all the reasons he could fire a person and how I couldn’t tolerate that from my boss on a continual basis.  A fellow student replied and wrote to me and said this of my husband’s moving company job.

Now that I know the background I can definitely say I agree with you that these “tough as nails” bosses will fire someone at the drop of the dime because it does not take brains to move a family.  Unfortunately, for leaders in our positions we are conditioned not only to enforce company policy but to have compassion for our employees and our families. 


I got really pissed off and wrote back to him. I used to think it didn’t take “brains” to move a family. I now beg to differ.  As a mover you must arrive at the job on time (ie: better use mapquest) and with all of your tools ready to go.  The customer wants to pay someone else to do the job but they also want to dictate, manage and tell you what to do all day long. 

It’s a job that requires a high level of customer service skills, tolerance for people, etc.  Often my husband moves people that speak NO English.  Try that one on….they are telling him to move a couch to a certain area…it can take 15 minutes more just to figure it all out with hand gestures and drawn pictures.  He must explain paperwork, collect payment, explain moving insurance (what is covered and what is not) and get clearance from the customer to even touch their belongings. 

He must then load all of a persons belongings into a truck to avoid duplicate trips, and yet not damage or break anything of the customers because customers really don’t like damaged belongings, especially antiques and things that are clearly not covered in the insurance.  He must know about physics to know how best to pack a truck (there is a efficient and proper way and there is a every day Joe way). 

Amazingly enough even to me most movers have their own abbreviated language for everything they do. I know from experience with my husband when we moved that “SET” means put a piece down to give your moving partner a chance to gain a better grip.  Moving big pieces of furniture down a winding set of stairs can take upwards of ten minutes to properly plan and only 4 minutes of maneuvering…planning is key and often crucial.  He has moved piano’s down 10 flights of spiral stairs with only one other person.  His job does not entail brutal strength and no BRAINS.  I used to think that myself.  Oh moving…big deal…pick it up and put it somewhere else.

Not quite.  There is a lot of planning, communication and customer service.  It’s the only job I can really think of besides dentistry where your customer is yammering away (and even dentists resolve that problem) the entire time they hired you the professional to do the job they don’t want to do or can’t figure out how to do.  My husband has women tell him all day long how to pick up a refrigerator and yet those women are the same one’s who have never in their life picked one up. They like to play director and yet if they knew how to move they’d move without paying him to do it.

My husband and I have the brains versus brute argument all the time. He tells me he has a strained shoulder and I complain about my aching brain neutrons or my tired mouse clicking finger or my carpal tunnel from too much keyboard typing at my office job. 

However….I wouldn’t choose to put up with his customers for a minute. “Don’t scratch my hardwood floor but move that 1300 pound antique armoire across it and I don’t want to unpack anything inside of it..mmkay?”  Oh and don’t mind the cat hair covering everything and oh my look at all the junk under the couch..don’t track that dirt all over my new condo or I’m going to be mad.  While you’re at it, can you move that couch from that spot I told you about five minutes ago and put it over here on the south wall again, I want to decide which I like best”.  Oh and don’t mind Fido’s dog shit all over the bedroom  floor because you know I’m ignoring it so you should too.  And can you please stand in here and take apart my bed, my dresser and my damn ping pong table too and then put it all back together in the new place.  And don’t scratch it.

At the end of it all when the bill talleys up to $5,500 for a 12 hour all day move, the customer will then say “wow that’s crazy”  yet they had 5 people in their house, two trucks loaded up and unloaded, and they sat in a chair smoking a cigarette while someone else packed up even their boxers and deodorant and 5 guy’s walked in and decided who was doing what and had a plan to get them moved from a 5,000 square foot house to a 3,5000 square foot condo in 12 hours.

Do you honestly think that’s all just brutal strength and requires no brains?  Bosses at moving companies are strict because when you need to send 7 guys and someone doesn’t show up….the customer is NOT happy. I’m sure customers get mad and cancel an entire 5k job because a crew showed up at the customers house 3 minutes late.  If you owned that company, wouldn’t you be just like my husband’s boss?  He’s in a business and he needs people to d.y.d.j.  Do your Damn job.  If you’re job means being on time, then do it or lose it.

I too often focus in on structured organizations and how they do things. I  focus in on the Googles and the Starbucks and the IBM’s and HP’s etc.  But the reality is…these small businesses are more plentiful than the Googles and IBM’s of the world and this style or lack of management style is often what the real world copes with.  I’m trying not to lose touch with people unlike myself.  My husband and I are polar opposites. I would call my HR department if a boss ever talked to me like his does.  Different industry..different circumstances.

Incidentally….every time we’ve personally moved, my husband somehow manages to move an entire household in 7 hours flat with minimal help.  It’s not because of brute or speed.  It’s because of critical thinking and planning.  He has a plan and is efficient.  That takes brains.

Did you know that you don’t pack what’s in the dresser drawers…you move them as is.  You don’t pack up books, you shrink wrap the entire bookcase and make sure it’s weighted out properly on all sides and use a hand truck..etc.etc.etc. I could go on and on with all these boring details but it’s not brute like people think.  Trust me the garbage man even has to use his brain to be efficient.  You don’t know a job until you do it.  Calling someone’s job a “brainless” task is really b.s.

Filed under : love and marriage, Rick, world, career
By shishnit
On January 22, 2010
At 2:20 am
Comments : 0
 
 

Happy “Thanksgiving” Anniversary!

This year Thanksgiving falls on our 4th wedding anniversary.  It’s hard to believe it’s been 4 years already.  It is also hard for me to believe how lucky I am.  It is however very easy for me to know what I am thankful for this year. A happy marriage….its the new joy! I love you Rick!

Every time I see a wedding photo…I gasp at how young Keith looks/was.  Speaking of Keith…he’s with “us” today. :-)

Filed under : Uncategorized, love and marriage, Rick, keith
By shishnit
On November 26, 2009
At 4:40 pm
Comments : 2
 
 

memories…like the corner of my “Google?”

Tonight I was playing with google map’s.  Out of curiosity I googled up our old address.  Circa April 2008.  We lived in this house for a little over a year and we loved it.  I really woulda killed to buy that house at the time.  They are now selling it for such a low low price too…..  However, I’m happy about where we are and how things worked out.  Chloe would have ruined those hardwood floors by now.

The thing is….when I googled that old address via google maps and asked for a stree view…I got this old shot…with our vehicles in the driveway. We had good memories in this house, and yet we suffered through all that infertility nightmare in that house too.  It’s now for sale for $149,900.  When we were looking to buy they were telling us “oh about $315,000.  Which is what the owner paid (property appraiser records)….but wow…half that price now that we’re all back in reality.

I still miss that jacuzzi tub however…..and we did have some really good times there.

Filed under : love and marriage, Rick, house, life
By shishnit
On September 30, 2009
At 1:24 am
Comments :1
 
 

so much to lose = fear

So…last night I come home from work around 10:25 p.m. like normal and the anxiety starts up because Rick’s not home. The driveway is empty, sad and forlorn. I check all my resources because I am so fucked up like that. What resources you ask?  Oh…well he wasn’t in jail (per the county “Who’s in Jail” website) and he wasn’t out spending money anywhere (per his bank account/debit card website) and so…that left me in a total tither.  Too many nights in my past of being stood up by the ex-husband.  Too many nights of not knowing, not trusting, being “left”.  Those oh so many nights years ago have had a lasting affect to my psyche.  I know in my heart that I can trust Rick but yet my emotional response to him not being home when I get home and his cell phone going straight to voicemail…well it was stress inducing. Stress of the anxiety type.  I was tossing and turning in my mind.  My head weaving and interweaving every horrible possibility it could imagine.

This is not the first time.

I barely blog about the scars.  I am fighting them, trying not to give them more air time, thought time or emotional time than absolutely necessary.  But someone told me I was raw, open and that they admired that and it made me wonder, if I’m not lying to myself because I’m not telling things as they often are.  I am recovering but fuck…it is hard.

Last night, he’s not home and this becomes one of the moments when my past creeps in and all the people who have emotionally abused me and abandoned me seem to creep into the room like ghosts of the past visiting, telling me…forewarning me it seems…that Rick is hurt, doing something hurtful or he just might not ever walk back in the door.

I trust Rick.  Oh god how I trust that man.  The man who cannot tell a lie.  Who cannot hurt a flea.  The man who makes mistakes because he’s so softly human and yet…upon making mistakes, apologizes, owns his mistakes and learns from them.  Rick is fantastic…and that is one reason why I barely blog about my fear mongering psyche.  I am …or rather I can BE so fucked up.  I was pacing the floor…but you know in reality I wasn’t even moving.  I drank a cup of coffee at 11 p.m. because I knew I’d never sleep so why suffer while waiting.  Why let it get to me.  I thought of blogging those emotions live but I never want to be so fucked up and disrespectful towards my husband.  Perhaps I should have blogged it as it really was neither.

The hours creeped by.  I told my dear friend Greg via facebook all about my fear mongering and my angst and my desire for a prozac. (please note, I have never taken a prozac in my life…but sometimes I want any pill I can fathom or imagine just to make it stop!!!) Make WHAT STOP?  The voices from my past, the ghosts in the room…the ones that scream at me to not be naïve…that he might be out with some chick…some chick I know..or worse yet he might be wrapped around a tree, laying in an ER somewhere taking in his last breath…his chest now still…while I am hand wringing and hoping and fearing the worst….the worst might actually be happening…somewhere else.  It’s a fucking emotional roller coaster..my brain full of bad memories.  They suck…they sometimes arrive like a volcano…the hot sludge taking me with them…hurting me yet again, while in reality there is nothing in the room and nothing to fear.  

Oh, but the memories, the ghosts of marriage past…they are wicked motherfuckers who come to haunt me at my most vulnerable times.  I think that I have them beaten as often for months upon months they do not arrive. They may look into the window but I willfully slam my blinds shut and wave my middle finger and laugh in their blocked off faces.  I pat my back and say, “ha! There! Take that!” and believe it.

Oh but those slimey bastards, they crawl under the crevices of the doorways, into my room when I am weak.  When I am worried.  Why my heart is thumping in my chest so loud I know the whole darkened street outside can hear it….like that story from Poe, only my heart is not buried under the floor, it’s in my chest wrapping against my sore ribcage.  A rat a tat tat.  A rat a tat tat.  I pace some more.  Where is he?  This is not like him?  Is he with his brother?  Oh wait, I don’t have that new number.  Oh wait, I cannot call looking around town for my husband, I trust him.  I must hold onto what I know is reality.

And then the blinds move, and the eyes of that marital ghost from the past, peer in at me and my heart thumps and I want to die.  I want the anxiety to go away so badly.  I call his number just to hear his voice on his voicemail and I say outloud to the automated message, please be alive, I love you so madly, please don’t leave me…please don’t be gone already.  And then I hear a beep and quickly hang up.  I trust him, I cannot let him see me this way.  I trust him. I love him.  What might he think of my inability to truly trust him.

And hours and hours of this back and forth and eyes seeping into the back of my skull from closed blinds against ghosts, the barriers growing thinner and thinner, my mind racing back to the past, to the pain, to the losss..oh but I never loved like this before, how how how could I take such a knife bleeding pain, one I cannot even begin to imagine. I tell myself that if its something bad, I shall hang onto the memories, the laughter, our wedding day, the look on his face flashes before me and I know that no matter what I have loved, I have finally loved and been so loved back.

And then….just as I’m about to crumble on the floor and beg God to help me, for the anxiety to pass…just then Chloe barks, and I peer out through the front window and there are headlights and my chest sings, my heart sours, my eyes blink back tears of relief and I rush to the door….and I swing it wide open and I wait while he ambles up to the door…weary and tired from such a long day, my poor boy, my rock solid man, my everything…he is home.  And I rush him, I hug him…I tell him “oh my, I am so happy to see you…I was worried about you”.  He was working…all that time.  Working hard for us.  I knew that…deep down I know I knew that….but so many ghosts…creeping in.  I hug him so hard….not letting go.  And he says, “I know” and leans into my hug.

And then later I tell him, I tell him how worried I was. I tell him how much I love him, how much our lives are like a perfectly formed snow globe and how anytime I fear that someone might be shaking my life, how things might break, how much I cannot imagine my life, “our” life, taken away….I tell him through tears….and he moves closer to me.  And that is why I love him. I tell him how hard I feel I’ve worked to rebuild..not once…but so many times…and this time only finding the strength and ability because of him and how much I adore what we have..the calm, the peace, the normalcy of it all…..how happy I am. I tell him just how happy I am and just how much I love him and he…he moves closer still.

Tomorrow morning we are going to Daytona to see his brother and his gf Cyndee again and hang out and have some fun in the sun on the beach.  I cannot wait….be damned you bad ghosts…go away.  We are happy.  Can’t you just go away and stay there? 

Filed under : love and marriage, Rick, life
By shishnit
On September 5, 2009
At 3:59 am
Comments : 0