Atomictumor

So, there were two things I wanted to do tonight:

1. Head by the record shop
2. Not go to Turkey freakin Creek and get caught up in Christmas shopping traffic.

Guess what I did?

—

So I went to BJ’s folks house and hung out for a spell.  They had some other relatives there that I really didn’t know, MastaG was calmly and discreetly reminding me how much he wanted to go home, and Pigpen was oblivious.  I hung around there an hour, and took off.  They really wanted us (the kids, more than me, I think) to stick around, but I wanted to get the boys and roll.

I’ve been pulling away from a lot lately.  More on that later.

So, the boys and I vanned up, and took off.  G was completely against the record store idea, which didn’t surprise me much, and completely killed the thing.  If I lose him, I lose Pigpen.  With no child support, theres no sense trying something that holds no appeal for the kids, like a record store.  He was more of a thinking that we’d come home, and he could play his computer game.  Pigpen, well, he fell asleep in the van shortly after takeoff.

I wasn’t really in the mood to head home and be bored.  It seems like when we’re home (and I think I mentioned this earlier) theres a feeling that we’re all alone together.  We’ll be in the same room, but we’re doing different things.  I guess thats not really true, because Pigpen is constantly yakking at me, and reading books to me, and not giving me a moments peace.  Its hard to get irritated at something like that, but frankly, I find myself accomplishing just that quite often.  Thats not a change, I’d frequently come home to BJ saying that he wouldn’t give her a moments peace.  He was a Mom’s boy, and I think its great, and very encouraging, that he’s able to have those attention needs filled by me.  Even if I can’t get anything else done.  Sigh.

So, I found myself turning left from their house near West Town Mall and heading west on Kingston Pike.  My jaw was starting to tighten with all the holiday traffic.  We persevered, and kept heading west on Kingston, discussing supper plans.  None of us were particularly hungry.  Somehow, and I’m still not sure how this happened, I got suckered into going to Target.  We found a parking spot right up close (normally I’m a drive to the back kinda guy, but I couldn’t let this pass up), and headed in.

I ended up in the toy aisle.  For like, 20 minutes.  It totally sucked.

When I finally extricated the boys, they were each allowed $10 toys.  Like, a month before Christmas, which is making my head spin.  By now, my left eye was twitching, keeping my gritted teeth company.  I was white knuckling the buggy that the kids were riding on (one of those kind that have the plastic seats at the end, Pigpen calls them his ‘train’), and growling as quietly as I could.

Yeah, not again.  Christmas shopping online this year, buddy.

—

We ended up at the Mellow Mushroom, and had some pizza, which was very nice.  The boys had their new robots on the table.  Pigpen didn’t eat much, but I understood that he had some food shortly before leaving.

He argued with me about going home.  I think the boy feels much like I do, in that the irritations of our new life are starting to mount up.

I mentioned my withdrawing from things a little further up.  I think the irritation has something to do with that, I just don’t feel like I know how to talk to friends and family anymore.  I mean, sure, I can keep up small talk, but I don’t look people in the eye, and I often feel like I just want to get home.  To do what I’m doing now, crawl into bed.  To type some stuff on the internet, save it for later.  Get it out of me, and onto the 1s and 0s, the little wifi fairies.

I’m irritated that life is going on.  I think thats what its boiling down to, the novelty of this is wearing off, and the stark realization that things are going to go back to normal, that the ocean is going to come back together around this enormous hole in my life and hide it away.  That the rip is really just in me, and the boys, and those who loved her.

And it happened so suddenly.  Just like that.  She was here when fall began, just peachy and fine, and sick and dead now.  Forever.

I’m still not sad about that, but I’m getting pissed.  I suppose its natural, but I sure hate it.  Anger and I have never gotten along well.  I have a hard time not yelling and cursing when I get angry.  I vent loudly.  Not violently, although I have put the odd dent in a wall (a hole once or twice).  I don’t like that.

The kids don’t need that crap.  So, I swallow it down.

Actually, literally swallow it down.  It was the weirdest thing, yesterday, while taking the boys to BJ’s folks house, we stopped by Wendy’s to get dinner for everybody.  Pigpen’s drink fell out of his cupholder, a full, 20 oz beverage, and spilled all over the floor of the van.  My temple twitched, and I felt pure rage, not at the kids, but at the situation boiling up from my chest.

I knew if I let it out, while we were driving, that it’d kinda freak the boys out, so I swallowed it.  It was a freaky sensation.  It worked, tho.

—

Its funny that I came home, and some guy left a comment asking where I get the money for eating out.  I replied, in Bos’s previous post, and told him, not that he needs to know, that the money was given to me, often by strangers, sometimes by friends.

Those of you that were here earlier knew that I had a REAL HARD TIME accepting money, or gifts, or much of anything.  I’ve never liked charity, and BJ and I have tried to stay away from it for a long time.  Yes, we have been very broke for 10 years.

However, I don’t care about that pride anymore, and it is pride.  People want to help, I need the help, so I accept money.  I’ll spend it, where I think its best for me and the boys.  Last night, I thought it was best spent on beer.  Tonight, toys and pizza.

If anybody, like this JT character, who actually donated money (which I’m sure he didn’t) has a problem with the spending (and I’m pretty much telling you all about it here) let me know, and I’ll send a receipt for the charity that I send your money too.  I’m not going to give it back, but I’ll donate it elsewhere, and give you proof.

Frankly, I have no idea, right now, how much has been donated to the BJ memorial fund.  I went to the bank to get addresses to send thank you cards, but came home empty handed because somebody who wasn’t there had to sign off.

When I find out, I’ll pop it on here.

But do me a favor, folks like JT, or any of you other internet guys out, who feel entitled to anonymous criticism: remember where you are.  This is all 100% real, this is my life, I’m opening it up to people I don’t know in a way that I never would have dreamed doing before.  Please be respectful of that, thats all I ask.

Since it’s consumer guide time here at the ‘tumor, I’ll throw this your way. The Cemestos Gardens folks are looking to get a digital camcorder for Christmas. That way we can entertain you all with more videos like this, but with even better quality.
We want to be able to plug it into the computer and upload our great recordings. Here’s the deal-breaker. It’s got to be cheap. We don’t want to put more than $250 into this gadget.  Do you have any suggestions?

Yes, I just woke up.  From a nap.  After getting up at 10 this morning.

Wanna make something of it?

—

MastaG wants to come home.  BJ’s folks were seeing about angling to watch the boys for both nights this weekend, and I’d get them in the morning in time for Sumgurl’s kid’s birthday party tomorrow.  It does em some good to have the boys over, I reckon, but ol’ MastaG is homesick, so I’m going to pick them up in a bit.  It does me some good to have em home, although, I admit, the quiet is rather nice…

I miss the brats.

I’m liking our little threesome, but I’m not sure how to fill those empty spaces in the day.  Seems like Pigpen watches a movie, and G plays on the computer, and I do something else, which is essentially how it went when BJ was here, but just doesn’t seem right.  I guess thats something we’ll figure out.

I’m thinking today I’ll take them with me to the record store (a bad idea, assuredly), and then, if they haven’t driven me crazy, we’ll go out to eat somewhere.

That sounds good, but the reality of it is that they’ll both be kinda whiney from being up late two nights in a row, and I’ll have to take them home.

—

Along with the threesome, I’m also trying to figure out the relationship with BJs family.  Now, they read this, which is an odd thing to get used to, but I have a hard time speaking my mind around them, because, like my loving mother, I have a habit of saying things that people take the wrong way.  Woot for communication by internet proxy!

See, the whole time BJ and I have been together, we’ve been close to her family, but at arms distance.  We’d head over and see them once or twice a week.  BJ’s dad was always good about dropping everything to babysit the boys when we needed one (frequently, when BJ was in school) or lending us money (frequently, this year), but we wouldn’t often just head down to their house and relax.  I’d get bored, BJ would play on the computer, and the kids would watch TV.

I feel like, now, I should have a bigger part in the thing, but I don’t know how.  When I’m there, I really kinda get the urge to leave, because thats the way I always was.  I mean, yeah, stick around for an hour or two and talk to em, but when we run out of things to talk about, I’m not sure what to do.

I’m really not sure how to handle their grief.  They’re doing it in a very different way then I am, and I feel like I make them uncomfortable, because I’m pretty frank about the whole thing.  I’m probably just thinking that.

Point is, I just don’t know, and I love em.
—

I’ve been reminding myself all day that BJ’s dead, and there hasn’t really been any grief.  I can still remember how her touch, and her presence felt, but its distant.  That doesn’t cause me grief either, just that ol’ longing, and something else that feels a little like the regret, without the guilt.  Maybe its just gret.  I don’t know.

—

Alright, I’m outty.  Talk to you guys later.

Good question.

This

is whats for breakfast.

(Good thing, 10 years ago when BJ and I were divvying up household jobs, I got cook… BJ chose general supervisor…)

So, this morning I’ve been laying in bed (lying in bed?), in a blissfully quiet house, with just the tinge of a headache from last night, and researching cars.

Uh, cars suck these days.

Seriously.

OK, heres my problem… I’m too aesthetically picky.  I LIKE the VW stuff because I like the design they put into the cars.  For like 20 years now, theres been crap for car design.  Crap.

I also like the fact that not a lot of people have one.  I like smugly driving, and I smugly drive best when nobody else has my car.  Theres been another white turbo Volvo 240 running around town, and I think I have to smite him (”Theres only room enough in this town for one white turbo 242, mister.”)

Indeed.

So, lotsa people say that the VWs suck with regards to reliability, which certainly removes from that smugness factor.  Its difficult to be smug when your car is broken down on the side of the road.

I didn’t say IMPOSSIBLE, just difficult.

So, heres what I’m looking for, in roughly the order I’m looking for it, and now I’ll make you guys work for me.  Here goes:

• Manual transmission.  For reals, no deals.  Don’t lay no auto on me.
• Pizazz.  Look it up.
• Low milage.  I’m not adverse to a new car, although I’ve never seen the sense in buying a new car, since its like taking the few thousand dollars in depreciation and flinging it into the woods somewhere.  Incidentally, thats where the Leprechaun pots of gold come from. Now we’ve both learned something
• Uh… how do I say this gently… not domestic.  Wait wait wait, don’t lynch me, its just that American cars look… well… lame.  There.
• Not so the crazy about Japanese cars either, because they all look pretty much exactly the same
• Oh yeah, gotta be big enough for 3 fairly largish sized bodies.  I figure this car’ll see me for 4 or 5 years, so MastaG will be sprouting body hair by then and talking in a crackly voice (its a shame, because BJ couldn’t WAIT to make fun of that).  Yeesh.
• Um, I think thats it.

What you should be taking away from this, is that I’m a man who judges me on my car.  I like the Volvo.  I liked the 74 cutlass I had.  Wasn’t so crazy about the Subaru wagon.  So, there you have it.

—

Seriously, what are you still doing here?