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Minikin's Journal

Routine Ramblings of an Occasionally Interesting Housewife

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stupid emotions
i hate feeling this way.

"What's wrong?"

I'm crying. That's what wrong. I'm falling apart and not coping and it's getting worse, not better.

My name-sake uncle died on Friday. My mother's half-brother. I was really named after my maternal grandfather, and my uncle was a junior. He's been in a nursing home for a year; I haven't even thought about him for longer than that. He was a prick after my pappaw died, about the will. Put my mom through a lot of grief. But she's resilient, and decided to hell with it, and took the money instead of the beachhouse. She bought my brother a house and herself an emerald ring. And they were friends again. Just like that.

My uncle was totally foreign to me, really. They lived in Michigan, he and his family, when I was growing up, and I only saw them maybe three times before Pappaw died. I think it was one of his kids that taught me to shuffle cards, that summer when all of us cousins stayed at the beach house at the same time. The summer that my brother got his braces tangled in the carpet when he was rolling on the floor, laughing. Uncle had red hair, like Pappaw, like me. Pappaw adopted Mom when he married Mammaw, so the red hair thing is kinda funny, really. Mom's real father was an aggie who was never married to Mammaw, but that's Mom's story.

I tried to buy blue jeans today.

I hate trying on jeans. I only hate my size when I'm dealing with structured clothing, like jeans. And small dressing rooms. And why the hell does Fashion Bug Plus put the display racks so damn close together, you have to brush past everything?

I couldn't buy the jeans. My credit card, a Fashion Bug card, got turned down on account of being inactive. "Oh I'm sorry, you don't owe us any money and haven't shopped recently enough, so go to hell." Okay, so that's not what they said. But they said they'd send a letter in 7-10 days to tell me if they'd re-open the account. I got furious, as this was the result of a 10 minute wait for checkout and approval, and I was completely polite and patient through all of that.

For a new pair of jeans.

I don't need to give my business to the sort of store that has that kind of customer disappreciation.

Oh, did I mention I was in there because THEY SENT ME A COUPON? Like, they WANTED MY BUSINESS?


I called Ro to let her know I was coming over to watch TV, and told her about it. Managed to only get sob-y, but not cry. Called Flar to let him know I was going to be watching TV and ask what time he wanted me home. He asked me what was wrong. What happened to my husband that doesn't notice anything? I told him and cried and I was a wreck when I got to Ro & Knight's and they hugged, and like that *ever* makes crying stop. But watching good TV helped.

But now I'm really just crying over money, mess, stress, fatigue, overweight, distance from Wolf and Sydb, a difference kind of distance from Flar, all the things that aren't going away, that I'm supposed to just cope with. I had nice shiney walls back in place just this week, and they're gone because of a pair of jeans?

It could be the chess thing.

First there was Coach. But Coach was burning out on chess, and finally handed it over to a new teacher this year. The new school Librarian, who knows nothing of chess, but is willing to do the school-based stuff, like get checks cut for tournaments, arrange for space, store the equipment, etc. etc.

And, in a parting move, Coach arranged for Mr.Coach. The man who built the team at Stonewall; brought him on board to teach the kids. Help them improve, etc.

But there's a catch. Mr.Coach comes with his own parent. Her kids is one of the kids to whom he gives private lessons. And this woman is NUTS. Seems her kid was in Coach's wife class last year, so Coach was able to tell me about the certifiably NUTS behavior from that point of view, as well. And she's stepping all over my toes. I called her Firewall in an earlier post, but she may earn a new nick, RavingBitch might be too strong, perhaps I could settle for StressGenerator.

The tournament was hell, because StressGenerator was essentially ignoring the fact that I've been running the tournament for the TLS team for years now (while Coach has often been drafted as a TD), and first assuming she would doing things for the team, and then not continuing to do them. Flaking anytime her daughter wanted attention. Her daughter who still attends Stonewall, and is in direct competition with our players. Who is getting coaching attention from Mr.Coach, during tournament time.

Frankly, I run chess club. StressGenerator doesn't seem to get that, and I do not enjoy political messes like this. There's also a rather gung-ho mother - Geste's mom - who is all pro-me, but making things worse by being so anti-her.

So, I could be crying from dealing with all that stress.

Flar made dinner last night. And frozen drink concoction. Mixed red from concentrate. With fresh banana. And pudding.

I spent probably an hour on the phone today with Geste's mom and Coach, working out what to do about all of this, and I've still an email to compose to StressGenerator. Decided to go ahead and do it now, to maximize the lunching possibilities. And punted the whole issue to the lunch conversation.

My letter:


I've been trying to figure out how to make the tournaments go more smoothly, but there seems like quite a lot to cover, and I work so much better with immediate feedback, rather than long treatises in email.

Would it be possible for us to get together over lunch sometime this week, to talk about this, and get to know each other better?

I'd be grateful for the chance to talk to you when there aren't so many distractions pulling each of us away from the conversation.

Watched movies last night and tonight: Phone Booth, Changing Lanes, Bio-Dome and Deception.

Not crying anymore. Back to irritated angry. And it's time to sleep, now I'm too wound up to get any. Grrr.

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Me, too - on the falling apart and crying thing! I'm blaming PMS (even though I no longer actually *bleed* due to the anit-migraine patch thingies.
But dammed if I didn't *try* to have a migraine today, regardless!
Really, things are going very well - it's just that I seem to be falling apart again ;(
Bummed about the job not happening (yet - let's be hopeful), as I'd wanted to be able to spend MY money on a present for Mick from Erosul. Are they keeping busy?
Sounds like you just keep getting more and more crap, sweetie - I'm sorry! I'm still entertaining a faint hope that I'll make it in for a quick trip before New Year - maybe I'll get to do a hug in person fairly soon.
Tell you what - if your tears get on your shoulder, pretend their mine, and I'll do the reverse.
love you!

Thanks hon.

If you do make it here, you're welcome to stay in my garret. Give me a couple of days notice to pack away the smellem goodem death candles, and wash the floor bedding. (We've turned the room into a king-sized bed, with multiple blankets and comforters.)

Catherine's, of all places, puts the racks so close together that even skinny people have to brush against the clothes to get through, unless they're walking down the main aisle. Needless to say, when *I* go in between racks, I usually pull clothes with me. :P

As for the chess club thing, that seems to be a conflict of interest, having one of the coach's students AND the daughter of his assistant being on an opposing team. Why were they picked to coach the team?

Mr.Coach quit his job at Stonewall, so he was available, and TLS needs chess instruction for the team. He was an asst. teacher who got screwed by budget cuts and found himself in special ed, and couldn't handle it.

He brought along Essgie (shortened her nick - it's pronounce S G) because she was a loyal parent.

Don't know how this will play out in the end.

I really don't want stress. But unless my boys drop out of chess, I don't want to stop doing what I do, which is make sure that the tournament registration process is smooth, and various other admin stuff.

Oh well, now I have that to contend with!

Thank you.

I'll get better. I always do.

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