God Bless Us, Every One

Kid-"But Miss W, if I do that for you now, what will I do tomorrow?"

Me- "Ummm I dunno, tomorrow's assignment?"

Kid- "Two assignments in the same week????!!! Well bah-humbug to you too!"

Me- "Yup, you can just call me Ebenezer."

Kid- "Wait, who's that?

As I said in my previous post..... there is a turtle who lives in the corner of the classroom I am currently teaching in. For the purpose of this entry we will from here on refer to him as "my" turtle.

When I entered the room today I was greeted by the muffled sounds of thrashing and banging. Further inspection revealed my turtle was creating mini thunder clouds of rage by banging his head against the glass and spashing his hateful water about.

From the basis of my understanding of general teenage angsty behavior. I can only assume this is a cry for help.

Perhaps he can somehow sense my overwhelming desire to have him die.....

Turtle Soup and other uses for useless things.

Number one: my name is not Miss Lewis. No matter how many times the administration at the high school tries to tell me that it is. I just refuse to believe it. I’m pretty sure of my decent….I have pretty distinctive ears, like many members of my father’s family. I’m fairly certain I know my own name, even if I am sure of nothing else in this life.

Secondly, after very little sleep yesterday I find myself spiraling downward into a spinning vortex of hatred of all things animate or not that pick a fight (ie. Does nothing) with me.

The tiny, adorable, turtle in the corner of the classroom has found himself begging for his life as the trickle of water from his filter makes me want to pee my pants and I hate that. It is of course not the turtle’s fault, but obviously stems from the fact that there are students in my classroom ALL. DAY. LONG. With no breaks. My feeble attempt to control the chaos ended in mass mutiny in my 12th grade class. Despite all that, it is easier to take it out on the turtle than the students, he’s smaller and his body more easily flushes down the toilet.

Lastly I must go to the bank. Like if I don’t they will foreclose on my home…and steal my dog. Well, I’m not positive about the home part but Im quite certain about the dog. Shes pretty darn great. But the idea of trudging down town, finding a freaking parking space in the snowy street and standing in line with my Ziploc baggie of nickels and pennies makes me feel like gouging out my eyes. If only there was a way to direct deposit tips from the bar.

~~Ms. Lewis is running to the bank to deposit her turtle. ~~

December 1st!!! SNOW

There's snow on the ground today, and I am a happy girl.

Please note:

I am in fact not an alcoholic. I am not in a pit of despair. I do not hate everything about my life. And I do still have hope occasionally for a bright, happy, productive future. Some where in the very distant future that is.

I was just informed that I should maybe clarify these things. I was actually told "Molly, you shouldn't write stuff like that". Which is wrong. I should write it if I feel like it..... but maybe I am a bit melodramatic at times.

I promise that I will let you all know when and if I am actually feeling suicidal. Although I think that there is a greater likelihood that it will be homicidal feelings, we'll wait it out and see.

When all else fails....drink.

Unemployment sucks. Ok ok, so I am working. At a dive bar, in a shit town. I make enough dough to buy groceries and to keep my small family in socks and chew toys. Or apparently now, socks as chew toys. (Our new puppy Sadie seems to fancy socks). We are behind in our bills. Scary behind. I have no idea how we will ever catch up. I try to juggle them as best I can, but there just seems to be no hope. I panic, as I am prone to do on occasion, and today I had a meltdown and cried like a small, emotionally disturbed child for a very long time. It is 2:00 in the afternoon and I just poured myself a stiff martini as I sit ALONE in the house with the dogs. Admitting you have a problem is the first step right?

There does not seem to be a light at the end of this tunnel. At least there is more tunnel. It hasn't caved in, and doesn't seem like a tunnel to no where at this point..... just more tunnel. See: I am trying not to be hugely pessimistic and whiny here. But, I am really, really tired of this particular tunnel.

I have had 4 interviews this month. All of which turned out immensely disappointing. It seems that I just simply cannot catch a break. I know I am not alone in this. I still know that I should be counting my blessings: food, warmth, family, love, no children to support, etc etc etc.... I know this. But there comes a time when the silver lining to this cloud just seems like crinkled tin-foil and I am so tired of being cheery and hopeful for everyone else's benefit.

I walk every day. Just to get my lazy, pathetic butt out of the house. And of course it helps to make the puppy tired enough to nap in the afternoon. Plus, I am still training to walk 60 miles for breast cancer. Its good to have a goal.

This is hard. Being a grown up is hard. Waking up each day is hard. How come no one bothered to warn me?

On a brighter note, look: puppy.

I work on Sundays at a little bar in Rochester. Its a dive bar, its dark, its run by assholes, and it smells a little funky. However, it has fabulous regulars who tip well, it has great wings, and plenty of TVs to watch any game you'd like. My shift is just sunday during the day, right during football. I rarely walk away from a 7 hour shift with less than 200 bucks in my pocket. I'm a good bartender, I'll remember your name and your drink and fill your empty cup in a timely manner. None of the regulars have ever complained about me. **note that regulars everywhere like to complain. I like my job, I enjoy the bar, I like my co-workers.... but I don't live and die for it.

I got fired today.

My boss called to ask me if I would be working this sunday. The answer was no. I got the shift covered by a co-worker so that I could relax with friends from college. Her words exactly: "If you don't come in, consider yourself no longer employed." HUH? Am I doing something wrong? "No. But you only work one day a week and you have missed 2 of the last 4 weeks." What? I didn't work on Labor Day because someone called to ask if they could work my shift. They wanted hours, they needed money. I let them work it. "Doesn't matter. Are you coming in on Sunday?" No. I got the shift covered already. "Ok then. It was nice to know you." CLICK.

I have never been fired. Layed off, yes. Seasonal employment over, yes. Business closed, yes. But never ever fired. I am a hard worker. I am a good bartender.

I didn't get a chance to explain. She just hung up on me. I was stunned. And pissed. And when I'm pissed I cry. So I couldn't even call her back because I have been a blubbering idiot for the last two hours.

How come nothing can possibly go right for me this year? I don't believe in Karma, and I certainly have never done anything so awful as to deserve this.

I cannot wait to see my friends this weekend, I need them....and a large glass of wine.

60 Miles or Bust

A few weeks ago I took a look at my life and I hated what I saw. I was moping. I was brooding. I was bitter. I was fighting with my loved ones for no reason. Sleeping in until 1 or 2pm just because, staying up late and feeling bad about it. I was working at a job that I despised, ie. If I were going to hell I would be LANDSCAPING for all eternity. I was not doing anything that I could be proud of or feel good about. I couldn't sleep at night, I was getting massive migraine style headaches, I had gained 15 pounds. I was feeling lonely, lazy and unfulfilled.

I signed up for the Susan G. Komen 3-day for the Cure.

Although when I think about myself walking 60 miles I can't help but notice how improbable that is. I am a wimp. I whine alot. I hate being tired. I hate being cold. I despise being wet. The farthest I walk on a regular basis is from my couch to the fridge. SIXTY MILES IS A LONG LONG WAY. I reset the meter in my car, and drove around for a few days. I was stunned by how long it took me to actually drive 60 miles. I hadn't thought about how far that actually is.

I am excited to have a purpose. For the remainder of this year and next I have a goal. I am making a difference and I am not just changing my life, I'm changing the lives of lots and lots of people. This is kinda a big deal.

I am blessed to have my mom along for the journey. I have someone with a common goal! I'm thankful for the support of my family and friends as well as I train my body to cooperate with my goals. I appreciate all the help too as I struggle to raise the required $2300.

If my friends could each spare just $7 I will reach my goal. I know times are tough, but life is tough. Things never go as planned, but one good turn deserves another. Please help me in earning the money I need to participate, and find your own blessings in helping in return.

Click here to DONATE. All donations are tax deductible and guaranteed to make you feel good.

cloudy day baking

I bake when its raining, turning my kitchen into a warm and cozy haven. I love to toss a bunch of random stuff into my kitchenaid mixer and then "voila" something magic and delicious happens. I also bake when I'm homesick. Something familiar and gooey. I mostly bake when I'm sad though. Something new, and difficult. Perhaps a recipe I haven't tried before, or something with tons of prep work, something to keep my hands busy and my mind off whatever is bugging me. The 15 pounds I have gained since May can be attributed to the baking. I like the feeling of accomplishment I have when I set the five-layer, chocolate heaven cake on the table to admire it. I like the satisfaction I get when the sink is empty of dirty dishes and sweet, fruit tarts linger on a linen napkin.

Breast Cancer Commercial