Coffee, Shoes, and Ramblings

See, I can’t worry and obsess about one thing if I have about six going on at the same time. Now some would argue that that just creates more stress. I don’t think so, I like to have everything in motion at the same time, that way I don’t focus too much on any one issue.

Well its like this. Domestic adoption through an agency? about 18 months to two years on average. China adoption? Six-eight months to get on the list. and then dealing with government bureaucrats, another 3-6 months and then a 13-14 month wait and then a two month wait. A total of about two years.

The bad thing is if you change your life, job or anything, you have to redo paperwork. So what am I thinking? I’m thinking do both at the same time. You know what will happen if I do that, both will happen at the same time, even though the time frames could be vastly different.

last Thursday I did go the adoption meeting. I’m just as confused now as I was then. You can adopt from the state. People over 40 can’t get children under a year. While adopting internationally I wasn’t expecting a younger child because of the time line, it still stinks.  I’m just over 40,  I could biologically procreate, just choose not to. Foster is also a possibility. I’m not sure where this road will go, I’m a bit worried about foster and having to deal with the red tape. I will say both social workers there Thursday were awesome people and you could tell they really cared about the kids they represent.

So I go to the copy shop to get copies for one of the final stages of a project we’ve been working on for several months. While I’m waiting to get the copies a girl is standing there talking to the man who owns the place. She’s getting her professional life copied and put in a 28-page resume. “Are you still stressed, did you go home and drink some wine?” the lady that works there asks. “No,” she replies, “I smoked about 50 cigarettes. I’m just so nervous.” It seems she had part one of the interview of her life yesterday and didn’t feel prepared. Tomorrow is part two and she will be ready or die in a puddle of angst. While Miss a bit spazzy is getting her resume complete with pictures, in order, a lady walks in.

 
Turns out lady is her boss. Girl is getting resume copied for job interview tomorrow.  Girl  quickly starts talking about being in New Orleans last year for a charity event and being one of the most eligible bachelorettes. She shows pictures. “I’m getting my scrapbook copied because today is the anniversary of Katrina,” she says.” Boss  looks at magazine photo, does her business and leaves. Girl keeps getting stuff together for the big mega resume.

 
If that were my life, boss would have looked more closely at the mega resume and I’d be looking for a job a  lot sooner. Maybe not. Right now, hes taking a nap in preparation for the meeting to come tonight. It should be quiet interesting.

Ok, germs keep back, runny nose, coughs, sniffles and sneezes, What are you thinking? I refuse to be sick, I’m going on a trip. Stop right now germs and put down my toothbrush, coffeepot and anything else you are multiplying on. BACK off!

So,

In other news

apparently my having a varying shade of lime green swimming pool all summer despite my working on it all the time, isn’t my fault. I like when things aren’t my fault. It seems that its Katrina’s fault. Yep, that’s right. It seems she brought mold algae and germs far farther north than it has ever been before. So the green that just won’t die is the fault of that. Any way, that’s what my pool man said. I bet the doctors are saying the same thing about all the sniffs and sneezles.

We go to my mom’s Saturday night. No reason, just to visit. My sister say’s she is starving and if mom hasn’t cooked, we will cook when we get there.

My mom says, “oh, if you are hungry, I’ll send J to the store for pizza.” “No,” I say, “I don’t want pizza and J certainly doesn’t, he works for a pizza place.” Ok, she says, “he can go get fried chicken.” From. the. gas. station. “No,” I say, “I’m not eating gas station fried chicken.” Now ordinarily I wouldn’t care what people eat, I would even on occasion eat gas station fried chicken. But my mom has diabetes and a whole list of other health issues. I’m sure the transfat in the gas station fried chicken is just what the doctor ordered. I know this has become a habit for her.

“No,” I say, “we are cooking.” “Oh, I don’t have anything to cook,” she says. Oh come on. What she has is a deep freezer that is so full it won’t close. An up right freezer that is almost too full to close. A refrigerator freezer that is almost too full to close, a refrigerator that is full and at least 10, that’s right ten, cabinets that are full of food. In 1999 when everyone was stockpiling food, I didn’t bother cause my mom could feed five families for three months from the food in that house.

So we start looking. I pick garden corn cut off the cob. My sister picks purple hull peas fresh picked from the garden and frozen and okra and tomatoes, cut up and frozen together. My niece picks new potatoes and okra fresh from the garden. Amber makes rice, I cook lemon pepper chicken breasts that were in the freezer. In about 30-45 minutes, the time J could have gone and got gas station chicken, we had a nice home cooked meal. With pineapple coconut cake that the crazy muffin lady made.

I know she is tired. I know she is sick. Yet I am furious that the woman who made me drink milk and eat vegetables, who wouldn’t let me drink soda pop because it isn’t healthy, now thinks gas station pizza or fried chicken is a decent meal and drinks diet coke instead of water. She has diabetes that is uncontrolled; she has illnesses that won’t heal. She just had cancer. She isn’t simple. She knows that good nutrition doesn’t come from a gas station. But there she is, not exercising and not eating things that will control her diabetes.

I want to scream, throw things, shake some sense into her. But I don’t. She is my mother. She chooses to live this way. I bite my tongue when she says how tired she is or how she isn’t healing. I sigh and go home and eat my vegetables.

I’m going to Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge for Labor Day. Foothills Cabins is five miles from the Great Smokey Mountain National Park and the Appalachian Trail. I’m hoping for no humidity, and no people. Well maybe just a few. Why? I’ve never been there. And? I may be meeting someone. Maybe. Also, you can see Boyd’s Bears Why? Because its there.
I get to drive in the car for eight hours by myself. And I am so looking forward to that.

Don’t really feel the need to see Dolly Wood. But a really nice walk in the woods? I could go for that.

Well, you know its a strange world when you see your child on IM-idle and think Yeah! he’s alive. Cause heaven forbid he should call me or e-mail me or even IM me. Love me some Isaac.

Ok, so I’m on a roll here, three posts in one day to make up for the slacker attack earlier this week.

Chris Isaak, I Wonder:

When I was younger I believed, that dreams came true.
Now I wonder.
Cause’ I’ve seen much more dark skies, than blue.
Now I wonder.

I keep on praying for a blue sky, I keep on searching through the rain.
I keep on thinking of the good times, will they ever come again?
Now I wonder.
Now I wonder.

It seems I’m now a blog slacker. I haven’t updated this week. I’ve started the Greek Fire book and I’m thinking my new form of revenge for people who annoy me in traffic and other places will be to fling snakes at them.

Tonight I go to a meeting to find out the hurdles you jump through to adopt from the state. I don’t know how much of the process I’ll blog here cause I’m paranoid that The Man is watching and will find something in a post to keep me down. You can Google certain things and it will come up. As a frequent job shopper I’ve done this just to see what will pop up. Luckily they don’t know about that one Halloween, or was it a trip to Memphis? Oh never mind.

I started the International adoption process in 2005 and quickly found out that for some, its about the money. Not for all, but it is a big factor for a lot of agencies. Also, I ran into a crazy, manic person who had no business being a social worker and working around anyone’s kids. After knowing mostly normal nice social workers, It gave me a bad feeling for the whole adoption issue and I’m still not happy with her a year later.

In a nutshell, I had a finished home study and that made her mad cause apparently she thought she was the only person in the state who can do home studies. She also had some issues about my being single and my budget. (I spent less on groceries than her so I must be a bad person. No, I just know how to shop.) (She was single and couldn’t imagine adopting so why would anyone else? A few judgemental lifestyle choice issues like that. I’m still not able to write about it coherently so I will just move on.