family


I was unfaithful to my hairdresser today.  Unfortunately, my hairdresser is also one of my best friends.  We’ve had our share of trouble getting my blonde just right, and I finally couldn’t take it anymore.  The back-breaker was when I lifted the top section of hair to blow dry the bottom and noticed striping.  That’s just not okay.  I’m very picky about my hair, and I can’t take that kind of screwed up shit.  If she sees me before I leave town again, I’m going to say D made me do it before the competition because my roots were so bad.

Which leads me to the competition.  We did the Edward G. Picken Pro-Am in Reston, Virginia.  Leading up to it, I kept hearing about how the judges were super-tough and we probably wouldn’t do well since we come from somewhere besides D.C. and aren’t used to their standards and it was going to be a bloodbath for us, blah blah blah.  Nothing like confidence-boosting.  D’s other adult that was going and I were in tears every day, ready to quit the whole sport since we apparently suck and shouldn’t be allowed on the ice with these magical East Coast skaters and all that crap.  Oh, also there would be eleventy billion of them, so we might as well get used to the fact that we were going to come in eleventy billionth.  I was in the car with D when he was on speakerphone with a former student who was talking about all this and asking if he had prepared us for this massacre.  Fucking awesome.  She’s so not my favorite right now.

So that’s the mindset I went to Virginia with.  Oh, and on top of that, the other adult D was taking has tested a level above me but since she hasn’t completed the level, she was allowed to compete at my level as well as hers.  So I figured she would come in second to last and I would be dead last.  When we got there, we found out there were only four of us competing at our level, but that they had had to combine age divisions to get that many.  So we were competing against younger people on top of everything else, but at least there weren’t very many people.  But still, as D would say, fuck me in the gonads.  Needless to say, I was rather unpleasant to be around.  I was going to come in fourth out of four and have some eighteen year old kick my ass.

We finally got to competition day, and I guess I was so resigned to losing that I was pretty relaxed during the practice session that morning.  D was pleasantly surprised by that – the relaxed part, not the resigned part.  When we got to the rink that afternoon for the actual competition, they were running behind schedule, so there was a lot of sitting around waiting.  Then I stood around.  Then I stretched for a bit.  Then I sat some more.  Then I said to fuck with it and put my skates on just for something to do.  Then I stood around some more.  Dude, that is a crazy maker!

Once our warm-up started, I got nervous.  Skating is a funny sport.  When you’re nervous, your knees don’t bend anymore, and if there’s one thing you need to skate, it’s knee-bend.  This always happens to me in test sessions, and then I really freak out and my legs shake.  It wasn’t as bad as my last test though.  I didn’t try to jump over the glass and escape the arena.  Anyway, I had to skate first, so I went straight from warm-up to performing.  I felt like my ChaCha was okay – there was stuff I’d have done differently if I’d been thinking straight, like put my head where it was supposed to be on the end pattern, but at least I wasn’t looking down.  For once.  My Fiesta Tango was pretty gross.  I screwed up the turn both times.  It was a nervous and scrapy turn.

I got to see the other skaters go, and at the end I felt like I had a decent chance for third place because the fourth girl was very very very nervous and it made her have giraffe legs and just overall she wasn’t very good (and now I’m going to hell).  I didn’t say anything to D about it and he didn’t say anything to me.  We went over the corrections (actually I told him what I wanted to fix, and he agreed), and then I changed into street clothes and went to Starbucks.  When I was in ballet, when you were done, you changed and left.  No big deal.

It’s apparently different in skating … while I was gone, I missed the scores going up.  It’s not like on TV where you sit in the little area (I REFUSE to call it “kiss and cry”.  That’s fucking absurd) and somebody announces them.  They print them out and post them on the wall.  I wasn’t even planning on looking at the scores – my original plan was to treat this like a recital and not worry about placement since it was my first competition and all that.  But since I thought I maybe had won third place, I went and checked.  D was on the ice with L and M getting ready for their stuff on Saturday, so I didn’t have anyone to help me read them.  It was very confusing since I skated first, and I kept showing up first, so I thought that that explained my name being up top on both dances.  The scores were done in ordinals, so you could see your placement from each judge.  That just confused me more.  Mine looked like this: 1 1 1 1 1 2 2 2 2 and 1 1 1 1 1 2 3 11.  I finally found a skater from Dallas to help me read the things, and she told me I won.  WTF???  And there was no-one to hug because they were all still on practice ice.  So I went to watch the rest of the day’s events.  When it was over, I found D.  He said, “Did you see the results?”  I said yes, and he said, “Here you go” and he handed me my medal.  I said Judge number 7 was clearly not a fan of mine.  Then we went back to the hotel and had sex.  I’m sure you wanted to know that!

Anyway, later on, he kept asking if I had called my parents, so I finally did.  My mom asked if there had been a medal ceremony.  Um, oops, yeah there had been, but I was at Starbucks.  I MISSED my damn medal ceremony!  It hadn’t even dawned on me that there had been one.  I was pretty appalled, but D said it’s no big deal at stuff like this – most people miss theirs.

So here’s how everyone else did:  In that same Pre-Bronze event, D’s other adult came in second.  She won her Bronze event, and she came in fourth out of 13 in the Open Willow Waltz event.  I was supposed to be in that too, but when I screwed up my knee, we pulled out.  Little M (she’s ten years old and has been dancing for just a couple of months, but she does do freestyle) came in fourth out of ten in her Pre-Bronze event and seventh out of eleven in her Bronze event which was really good because it was skating up a level for her and most of the girls in it should’ve been up a level or two.  D said that that age group gets really fucked up because girls won’t test until they find partners even if they are way beyond that level.  So we did pretty well.  D was happy with us.  It’s good for him too because it gets his name out there as a coach.

While I was there, the baby that my sister and brother-in-law are adopting was born.  The birth parents have signed the relinquishment papers and all that, so we’re in the waiting period with all the legal crap.  They should have the baby home by next Friday, but as Jason said, nothing has gone exactly as they’ve said it would, so who knows?  But they’re for sure getting her, so I’m an auntie now!  Yay!!!  Kim and Jason have been with the baby, and they met the birth parents and grandparents and all that.  The dad was having a little more trouble than the mom with the decision, but he said after he met Kim and Jason, he felt really good about it.  He was starting to scare everyone before that though.  My mom’s in Austin with them waiting out the waiting period.  They’re getting the nursery ready and all that.  I sent a box of clothes and diapers and other random baby stuff yesterday.  When Munchkin gets back from camp (he leaves Monday), we’ll go down there too.  The baby should be there by then for sure!

P.S. I’m having trouble with the ding-dang spell checker again.  Sorry for my oopses!

I’ve been taking care of my mom this week since she had a face lift and laser resurfacing on Monday.  She looks like a balloon full of raw hamburger meat.  It’s every bit as attractive as it sounds.  I go over in the morning and then we go to the doctor’s office.  They check her progress and we ask all of our questions and take lots of notes.  We usually stop at Starbucks for some crack on the way home.  She made this huge Excel spreadsheet where we write in the medications that she’s taking and when she does her face washing and moisturizing routine.  She also has to do something called debrading (which I’m sure I’m misspelling, but whatever).  That’s just nasty.  It basically involves rolling a giant Q-tip over her face to remove the crusty yellow bits.  Urgh!  The whole entire washing, soaking, debrading, and moisturizing process takes 40 minutes and happens four times a day.  Major suckage.  And I can’t even be bothered to spend two minutes washing off my makeup at night!

So I’ve decided that I will NEVER EVER EVER have a face lift or any other elective surgery.  Jeez Louise, why put yourself through this?  I wanted a nose job for the longest time when I was younger, but never had the guts even though my grandmother kept offering to get me one (nice, eh?).  I have a bump on my nose from getting hit with a ski, but it’s not noticeable from the front.  The side is a different story.  Anyway, I eventually got to the point where I was like, “Hey, that’s my nose.  If I had a different one, I wouldn’t look like me.”  But every once in a while, I would think how nice it would be to have a lovely straight nose.  Yeah, I don’t care anymore about that bump.

The poor dog is about sick of this schedule.  He’s having to get up earlier than he wants to (think how I feel about that too!), then I leave for like six hours, then I come home and let him out and feed him and spend a little time with him, and then I go back for another four to six hours.  He gave me a crate refusal today which has only happened two other times in the past year.  I think.  There may have been a small phase, but I don’t know for sure.

Anyway, my mom is making good progress.  Each day is exponentially better than the day before even though she looks icky.  We joked about making a My Space page for her.  My dad was not amused.  I think he thought we were serious, goofball!

D finished his CHLclass this weekend.  After sitting in a classroom for about twelve hours learning random shit, much of which had nothing to do with carrying a concealed handgun (e.g., if you’re being forced to suck a dick, bite it off.  Seriously.  It kind of turned into a general self-defense/cornhole protection class), he had to sit through a basic “How to Shoot Your Gun” class.  You might wonder why people who are interested in carrying might need such a class.  You might assume, like D and I did, that people in the CHL class have shot before and have actually practiced for the shooting accuracy portion of the course (D got 100% on that part, by the way).  Well, you would be wrong.  There were people in that class who had never touched a gun.  That’s right.  They’ve never touched a gun, yet they want to carry one around on their person.  And to think, New Mexico is one of the stricter states on this whole issue.  I was shocked!  I don’t know how to fix it without putting actual shooters through hellacious hours of boredom and drudgery, but I think they should somehow separate experienced people (like D) from inexperienced people (like me).  Anyway, he wants me to take the class whether I ever actually use a CHL or not.  And he thinks I should carry a knife.  This class made an already paranoid man positively neurotic.  He and his mom were hanging out today when someone knocked on the door.  D answered it with a Glock behind his back.  It was UPS.  Duuuude.  But I guess after hearing all the stories about most home invasions occuring when you LET someone in your house (salesman, lady with a baby, gas company guy saying there’s a leak, etc), you might get a bit skittish.

Anyway … my mom had her face lift today.  This was not my favorite thing ever since she’s a transplant patient, but like I said to her, there are people much smarter than I am making the decision that this is an okay idea.  My sister disagrees.  My main worry is infection.  On Wednesday, I’m going to stop by and see how she and Kathy are doing.  Kathy is a close friend of hers who is coming over to take care of her, but Kathy isn’t so great with gross stuff, and this is really disgusting oozy gross stuff.  I’ll tell you all about it after I’ve seen it.  I will not suffer icky shit alone, damn it!  Thursday and Friday I have her on my own, and Monday I take her to get the staples taken out.  That makes me have to gag a little bit.  Tuesday I go back out to New Mexico to meet D’s sister and aunt and uncle.  I’m also starting my house search that week.

As far as moving out there goes, I hope that I’m doing the right thing.  I think I am, but there’s always that part of me that worries that I’ll get out there and he’ll change his mind and I’ll have moved for nothing.  He seems to be ready for it.  I think with guys that once they’ve decided they want to be with you (as D puts it, “I’m ready to not have sex with anyone else for the rest of my life”, heh), then that’s it, they want to be with you and the game is over.  It’s that old thing where guys operate in the black and white, and girls live in the gray.  It’s hard being away too.  The weekends are so trying.  I’m not busy and I have nothing but time to think and get worried and be sad.  I was watching Big Brother, and that idiot Jen wrote in Ryan’s letter something like, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but nobody tells you how much it will make your heart hurt.”  I burst out crying at that.  It’s so true.  My heart hurt so much this weekend even though D was calling me during breaks in his class and texting me and all that.  It just hurts my whole body to be away from him.  Thank God it’s the week now and I’m very busy!  Yep, so busy I’m sitting here on the internetz.  So I just have to get through one more weekend before I see him again.  Gak, what a baby.  Seriously.  I mean, think of all the women who have husbands away in the armed forces and have to not only be away from them, but have the additional worry of something happening.  I need to grow the fuck up already and just deal with it.  

I’m going to Albuquerque tomorrow to meet The Parents.  Scary scary scary!  I have to get on a plane too.  And one to come back as well, to which my mom said, “If you freak out and can’t get on the plane to come home, please remember that you aren’t stranded and you can rent a car.”  I’d rather fly than drive this one though.  It takes forever and there are long stretches between civilized areas.  It’s like you’re driving through the set of every Lifetime “Woman in Trouble” movie ever made.  So yeah, I’d rather be afraid for two hours than for twelve.

I started with both of my new coaches this week.  J is one I’ve had before – he would sub when D was out of town.  Nick is new to me, and he’s fun.  He’s very complimentary towards me, and he told the head coach, Pierre, that I have self-esteem issues and I’m too hard on myself.  Duh … but anyway, it’s all working fine.  I still miss having D as my coach though.

Well, that’s a short entry, but really, nothing else exciting is going on here.  Oh yeah, except for this.  My sister’s in Hawaii, but when she gets back, I’m going to KICK HER ASS.  She knew about me and Man-Friend, but I hadn’t told my parents yet.  No need now as she did it for me, which is why my mom knows I’m going this weekend and was able to say what she said up there ^.  Bitch is going down.  Seriously, why did she feel the need to do that?  I was gonna tell them when I was good and ready.  It wasn’t her place.  I’m so pissed!!!

My grandparents are pretty excited about the place they looked at this weekend.  Their plan is to go back today and put down the deposit and all that good stuff, so it looks like they’re moving here.  Now my sister will be the only one in Austin and she’ll have to come here for holidays, haha sucka!!!  I hadn’t even thought about the new non-traveling holiday bonus until now, but that rocks my socks right off.  I’ll still have to go to Oklahoma to see my other grandparents, but this is pretty fucking awesome.

D has a list of stuff he wants to do in Dallas before he leaves on the 15th.  One of those things is the Dallas Aquarium.  I’ve never been there, so we’re going tomorrow.  I’m really excited about the predators exhibit.  Big mean fish are cool as long as the can’t eat me.

We’ve finally nailed down dates for my first trip out to Albuquerque, so I’m going to make my travel arrangements.  Which, of course, includes the plane tickets, VOMIT!!!  I’m so not happy with the hotel situation there.  It seems that the only rooms with microwaves in the city are suites.  All the rooms have refrigerators, so I’m like, “How fucking hard is it to stick a little microwave on top of that?”  Not hard, people!  I’m going to be there for five days, so believe me when I say I have to have a microwave.  On top of that, to make this remotely affordable, I’m going to have to stay in a gaggy Best Western.  I’m a little bit of a spoiled hotel snot, so yeah, this isn’t good.  It’s the opposite of awesome.  If I can hear the people next door smoking crack and having wild monkey sex, I’m gonna throw poo at them (damn, I am classy!).  Unfortunately, I just can’t pay a grand for a hotel stay when I have to go out there at least three times.  The suck thing is that it’s still going to be like $500.  Ack!!!  Then I have to pay for dog boarding, ice time, lessons, and a rental car.  I better take the X-Box with me for entertainment and whore myself out for alcohol.  Luckily you can get drunk really fast at altitude, so I’d probably only have to blow the guy.

My grandparents are coming into town tomorrow to check out another retirement place.  My grandfather was ready for this move a long time ago, but my grandmother is reluctant.  I don’t blame her – I would HATE this.  That said, I think it’s the right thing to do.  My grandfather has macular degeneration and is going to need lots of help, and my grandmother has her health issues as well (they’re both over 85 years old).  They’ve just been so independent for so long that it’s got to be hard to face this.  Anyway, we’ll have a dinner thing tomorrow night at my aunt’s house and another one on Sunday at my parent’s house.  On Saturday they’re going to check out the place.  It’s not like a retirement home per se.  It’s like condos with different levels of assisted living.  Personally, I think it’s pretty fucking depressing even if it does need to be done.  I don’t want to die, but man, I don’t want to be ooolllddd.

My Saturday will be more fun than theirs I think.  I’m going to a dinner party with a bunch of skating people.  The party is being given by one of the adult skaters for a friend of hers who is in town.  Most of the people there are going to be pretty old (and by that I mean relative to our group – these people are in their 50s and we’re not).  So when things die down, we’re going to come back to my house for a real party, yay! 

Sadly, at my own party I can’t really drink much because on Sunday, I’m going shooting again.  I don’t think I’d do well hungover.  D and I were trying to figure out what kind of gun I would use this time, but we failed.  We’ve decided to just wait and see what they have.  All I know is I wasn’t thrilled with the XD, but I have no frame of reference, so what do I know?  He asked me what I didn’t like, and I said the noise and the kick.  He goes, “Well, that’s kind of going to be all guns.”  Oh.  I guess I have to get used to it then. 

So that’s my upcoming weekend in a nutshell.  Tomorrow is going to suck, I can tell already.  I only have seven lessons left with D, and I’m starting to get just sick about it.  It’s funny because everyone at the rink tries to put such a happy face on it – like, “Oh, Nick’s going to be your new coach?  You guys are going to look great together because you’re both tall and blonde” – that was the lady who’s having the party on Saturday.  For the record, while I am blonde, I’m not tall.  I’m just tall compared to most ice dancers.  A bunch of other people have told me that I’ll have lots of fun with Nick, which I know is true.  He’ll also be picky like D which is good.  I just don’t know if he’ll be as picky, but he better be!  I’m a perfectionist, but if my coach isn’t looking for it too, I’ll slack off.  I’m lazy like that.  That’s why J isn’t going to be my dance coach.  He looks for “good enough for an adult” (that’s not actually a quote from him, but he has more than once said that we don’t have to live up to the same standard as the kids.  Well, duh, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t strive for it).  That just doesn’t fly with me.  Anyway, I’m glad this whole coaching question is taken care of because I had four coaches approach me today.  Sorry guys, it’s done!  I’d still move back to fucking New Mexico in a heartbeat if it were at all feasible though.  This sucks a great big ass!!!

Random thought of the moment:  I would love an omelette.  I’d want it to have bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms, and peppers.  Then I’d cover it in salsa.  On the side, I’d like pancakes with LOTS of syrup.  The irony of this random thought is that I weighed this morning and I only have three pounds to go, so of course after skating today, I did nothing but stuff my face.  I ate an entire bag of Pirate’s Booty.  An entire fucking bag, are you kidding me with this shit?  I also had two oatmeal raisin cookies, countless Reese’s mini peanut butter cups (I think it was a total of 12, jeezus), Starbucks, two big bowls of cereal, normal oatmeal, and yogurt.  I feel like I ate something else too, but I can’t think of it.  You may notice a lack of veggies there.  Oops, my bad.  The only proper meal that I ate was the oatmeal and yogurt at breakfast.  Everything else was very snacky.  Hopefully I’ll do better tomorrow, but I think sometimes you need a day of really crappy eating.  And you know what?  I could still eat some more today.  Yee-ikes!

I just ate the biggest burrito I’ve ever seen in my whole life.  I’m in Austin and Jason went to get us food from some Mexican restaurant.  This thing had to be eight inches by four inches and about three inches thick.  I put down a little more than half of it, and the next thing on our agenda is to go shopping for clothes.  I may not need new jeans.  The old ones may not be so baggy anymore.

The hair show on Tuesday was fun.  I was “Punk Girl”.  The make-up artist put red lipstick on my eyes which took three days to fully disappear.  I was like, “Really, how many times do I have to wash my face?”  The answer is eight.  One of the girls was still in high school, and she was like, “Um, I go to Highland Park* High School, and we don’t dress like this there.”  I thought, you know sweetheart, if you think I’ve ever dressed like this in my life or ever will again, you’re fucking kidding yourself.  She had trouble getting into the spirit of things.

One final note: my robo-mouth is done.  I’ve got the crowns and everything, so no more stupid mouthpiece.  When I’m brushing my teeth though, I keep reaching over to grab it and brush it too, but it’s not there anymore!  What a relief.  I’m getting the crowns redone though because the shape doesn’t match my other teeth perfectly.  I’m sorry, after spending $15,000 on my mouth over the past year, everything better be exactly how I want it.  So these crowns are temporary, but still, no more mouthpiece, yay!  Oh yeah, I had this dream last night that all my crowns (I have a total of six) fell off and I lost my wallet and couldn’t pay to get them back on.  Yikes!

*Highland Park is the snootiest area in Dallas.  This girl was sweet, but yeah, she was a little snotty too.

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