June 30th, 2008
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a sucker. I don’t like to say no to people. Not any people. Panhandler’s get me every single time. If my kid wants something, unless it’s completely outrageous, you can bet he’ll be getting it. When my family asks me to do something, I’ll go out of my way to get it done. All because I’m afraid of disappointing people, even strangers.
It’s a flaw I have and honestly, it’s getting out of hand. Lately, my time has become limited. But I still find myself saying yes with my family, when I should really say no. Maybe it’s because we’re in such close proximity. Actually, it’s DEFINITELY because we’re close. There are times when I don’t feel like my life is my own.
Everything hinges on what my parents/brother/niece are doing. I thought moving to separate homes was going to reduce the amount of time we spend together, but really, it hasn’t. I don’t blame them totally. I blame myself mostly. Because I can’t say no.
This isn’t a new problem. It’s been this way for years. I look at my folks and don’t understand how they could want to be around me so much. I mean hell, they married each other when they were 18 and 16 to get the heck away from their families. Why don’t they understand that’s what I want? I know they didn’t love their folks and siblings any less. They just needed to feel independence. I need that too. But every time I talk about it, I feel like I’m letting them down somehow by wanting to get away. It’s all in my head I’m sure. I have to work it out somehow. I just wish I knew where to start without having that guilt weighing me down.
November 19th, 2007
I had a post full of righteous indignation all prepared this morning, ready to just let the United States Government have it left and right…and then I got this picture and and I swear I couldn’t stop laughing. Everyone should have be able to laugh like that on a Monday.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Daphne:
Read the rest of this entry »
September 10th, 2007
After only a couple of weeks in “The Huts” my parents mercifully found a house for us in a nearby town. Our furniture would be arriving from the States in 10 days so we decided to go ahead and move into our new house and “camp”. It was an adventure to say the least.
Our new home was an end rowhouse. Three stories with a basement, and it was black. Like blackened from soot. The door was black, the bricks were black, it was all black. So to break up the monotony of all that black, my mom bought gold paint and painted the house numbers on the door. The RSPCA was located in our backyard which was interesting at the best of times, heartbreaking at the worst.
The house had an interesting floor plan. The first floor contained the dining room and kitchen. The door to the basement across from the kitchen. The dining room was directly above the basement. The basement window had a hole in it and often we could hear the wind whistling through the hole. One night during dinner, my brother observed the carpet lifting off the floor. We all looked down and sure enough, the carpet was fluttering up and down. Well, you know me, my first thought is Poltergeist, but no. It was simply the wind coming through the floorboard from the basement. Fun times. The second floor was the living area, one bedroom and the bathroom. Which, incidentally, was as large as any one of the bedrooms. The third floor contained three bedrooms.
Now, the living area on the second floor was, no lie, as long as a bowling lane. It was quite possibly the longest room I’ve ever seen. Read the rest of this entry »
August 14th, 2007
This last weekend, I got an urgent page from my little brother. I say little because he’s younger by 4 years, but at 6′4″ he’s not really “little.”
“KC: Call me ASAP!”
I am not sure why I responded so quickly, as normally, I wait a couple of hours before returning his calls. You see, Matt has a flair for the dramatic and if you respond to his urgency, you get sucked into a long, drawn out, overly exaggerated tale. I don’t really have time for that. But as I was with my parents when he paged, I felt I should call him. And I’m glad I did. Read the rest of this entry »