Tag: childhood

  • Desert Mirage

    I am currently in Las Vegas, because I am an idiot, or a masochist, or both.  There is just no good reason for a person with Summer SAD to “vacation” in Las Vegas in June, but that’s what I did.

    My husband had to come here for business, and because he is always extremely busy with his start-up, I decided to come on out with him. He’d be too busy working to spend time with me, but the drive to Vegas and back would give me more time to hang out and talk to him than I get in the average week, so it seemed well worth it.

    Until it was 106 fucking degrees in the fucking shade and the fucking hotel room won’t cool the fuck off.

    I used to spend parts of my summers in Vegas. My grandparents lived here when I was a child. Mornings would start early to get some good play time in before it got too hot.  My grandfather would walk me to the local playground so I could play for a little while before the metal slide got literally too hot to use safely. Then we might walk over to 7 Eleven for a Slurpee. If I didn’t get a Slurpee, there would probably be coins left on the ledge outside the house for me to get something from an ice cream truck later in the day. They sold the house when I was 8 years old and left Vegas for a cheaper town in the middle of nowhere Nevada to retire. I drove by the house yesterday. My grandmother would be horrified to see the condition that the current owners have it in. The huge sagebrush field that I explored is now completely littered with 2 story suburban cookie cutter tract homes. Overall, it felt surreal to be there. I had planned to call my father while parked out front, but decided I didn’t really like it there, so I meandered on my way.

    I stopped at a store to look for a new purse (my current one is falling apart) but had no luck with that either. Upon exit of the store into the overbearing heat, I headed back to the car when I sign across the parking lot caught my eye.

    Rita’s Ice Custard Happiness

    Ooh, ice custard. Do I want that?
    Of course you want that. It’s happiness.
    Well, yeah, but should I have it?
    What “should”? It’s happiness. Go get some happiness.
    It probably isn’t any good. It’s probably too expensive.
    It’s Happiness, it says so right in the name, plus The Beatles say Rita is lovely.
    I don’t think it is the same Rita.
    Whatever, come on, people are always accusing you of being too negative. Go get some happiness. Be a person that deserves happiness.
    Fuck you.
    HAPPINESS
    Serious, fuck you. Alright, fine, I’ll go get some fucking happiness.

    So I drag my heat exhausted ass across the hot black top toward Rita’s Ice Custard Happiness. So. Hot. I have to walk around the building when I get there, the sign was on the back of this little section of strip mall that is floating out on the street side of the parking lot. I pass the Subway that is next door, and get to the front of Rita’s Ice Custard Happiness and am greeted by a “Coming Soon” sign.

  • Weekend Update

    There is a girl who lives nearby. We met her and her family almost immediately upon moving into this house and her and my daughter began hanging out. There have been times when they have spent more time together and times when they’ve spent less time together. I’ve never actively encouraged the friendship because I do not care for the parenting style of her parents. At the same time I have not discouraged the relationship either. There are certain things I will not allow when I feel their parenting would possibly impact my daughter’s safety, but as far as whether or not the girl makes a good friend, I’ve tried to leave that up to my daughter to sort out on her own.

    I had several reasons behind this. For one, I did not want to hold the girl responsible for what her parents have done, as long as she could more or less manage to behave herself in a way that didn’t irritate the crap out of me, I didn’t mind her being around. Also, I will not be standing beside my daughter throughout her life. She needs to determine for herself how to make judgments about people and exactly how much she is willing to put up with. She needs to learn how to sort out relationship problems on her own. I am more than happy to give her my opinion, even when she doesn’t want it, but I also try to acknowledge all the other points of view and leave the important parts, like whether or not to consider the girl a friend up to her. I will restrict her from taking part in certain activities with a person, but I will not make some ill-conceived attempt to control her feelings for another person. That would just lead to her stubbornly hanging onto horrible relationships just to prove me wrong. Besides, I have disliked more of her playmates than I’ve liked, so if I asserted my influence too strongly she’d just grow up to be a hermit on a hill with a rifle, and dammit I already called dibs.

    Anyhow, last year this girl started middle school (and her period) and she has been a-changin’. She has new friends who have labeled my daughter as “syoopid” because she doesn’t like The Pussy Cat Dolls, doesn’t watch the new whorrific Puddy Cat Dolls reality show, and she freakishly likes showtunes “what r thos?” Recently it has degenerated further. The girl began to make prank phone calls. When my daughter called her on it (between recognizing her voice, and umm… you know, caller ID) she got pissed off. Little neighborhood miss then decided to pass around our daughter’s cell phone number to a few friends. “I didn’t call you. That was my cousin. If you don’t believe me you are a bad friend and I don’t like you anymore.”

    Ah, the joys of being an adolescent.

    Now I am truthfully beyond fucking irritated because A) cell phone minutes cost money, and she is on a very restrictive plan because we mainly got it so we could be in touch with each other, I have no interest in her wandering about with a phone attached to her head all the time and B) I HATE NOISE so the damn thing ringing over and over is pissing me the fuck off.

    My first instinct is to walk over to the girl’s house and just give her a good spanking, followed perhaps by doing something violent with her phone. I really need my daughter to decide for herself how to handle it, and hopefully to put some actual thought into it first and not just jump into something. We’ve discussed various options and possible and likely results. Now I am waiting. Of course to top it all off my daughter is feeling hurt and pissed off. This means I am stuck in the house with a moody creature.

    So, how is your weekend?