! trANNsformation BaBy !

how is it that whenever i do this turnaround the same day Denver to SFO shit that I barely eat.

it’s like mission impossible music is playin in the background as i hustle from airport to see the kid and back because i’m always cuttin’ it so dang close.

but i made it.

the fuckin’ plane stopped in san diego (had to suppress the urge to jump out) on the way to Denver and phoenix on the way back.

I read a book that’s been sittin on my night stand for a month.

Now I’m home, hot bath and EXHAUSTED.

dang. another busy day tomorrow.

hustle
hustle
hustle

gonna buy myself some flowers tomorrow.

So Co-Dependent comes up to me at the end of her day and after she listens to me whine about never getting to leave at 5pm says, ‘It’s over’. Come to find out that roach (her boyfriend) has not gotten paid from his bbq demo job and was supposed to drive over to give her gas money so she could get home tonight but he never showed. She called him and found out that he spent the last of the money on beers for himself. Considering that one of her conditions for him moving to the new place with her was that he was to CEASE drinking and start being responsible - this wasn’t a smart move. Well it wouldn’t be a smart move if you were with someone who would really enforce boundaries… so I offer to drive her home but her car is in the parking lot. So I gave her 40 bucks (half a tank on her car) to get home. I didn’t lecture - I just said to her ‘a wise decision hon’. So who knows what will happen she says she’s gonna give him a month (she’s gonna take his 1000.00 check for rent this month) and he will have to go. She’s been taking surf lessons from some cute/hot 30 some odd year old surfer boy with no addiction issues who works constantly either giving surf, swimming or sailing lessons and now she says that she wants to be with someone like that dude. No more addicted, non working pieces of shit for her anymore. Guess the guy whined to her that he doesn’t make a lot of money and women aren’t very interested in him - she swooned when she said, ‘Hell Annie - I’ve been with someone who hasn’t worked in 6 years! I’d be happy if he worked as hard as this guy does AND he doesn’t do drugs/alcohol. He’s totally a nature loving guy! I wish I was skinny - I might be able to stand a chance with him.’

She’s going over to her parents house and is going to ask them for sailing lessons for her Christmas present so she can spend more time with Mr. Surf. She’s already looked at Craigslist to see who might be interested in a room for rent in her area by the beach and found someone who has a dog who is looking right now. So she’s feeling better about getting rid of him. As I drove her to her car, I asked her if her heart would be a mess because of it and she said, ‘No, I love him so much but not in THAT way anymore. It’s more of how you love a brother, not a lover.’

We’ll see.

Meanwhile, court today proved to be painful. The proceeding sucked but the fact that the court officer called me another social worker’s name was humiliating. Especially when I know what THAT social worker looks like - YIKES! She’s probably a 18-20 and she’s mixed like me too. Good Grief! I know I’ve gained back 40 pounds but geez - I’m not a size 16 right now. Believe me I wasn’t feeling fucking fantastic in my size 14’s but goddamn it - I’m thanking my lucky stars that I haven’t crept back up to 16/18’s again. DAMN.

Fuck. I have GOT to do something about this fucking fat.

Then of course, before this whole thing happens I was sitting in the bright sunshine of the window on the polished wooden bench looking at the craftsmanship of it and wondering where its life would lead it after the courthouse when Slinky walks up and sits on the bench next to mine. She was gabbing mindlessly on the phone and while she was preoccupied with her nails - I took furtive glances at her slender figure. I noticed how sharply her chin jutted out away from her neck - no double chins for this middle aged gazelle and how her fitted jeans skimmed down the side of her hips, spilling onto the floor right above her pencil thin heels which showcased her red ruby pedicure. Careful to not catch her attention and FORCE a friendly smile, I continued to observe her. Much like Jane Goodall observed the chimps only I will never be able to make sense of why some of us are so blessed while others of us live in constant agony.

My eyes followed her trim hips onto her simple blouse which proudly displayed her thin arms (no batwings there) and her jutting collar bones. I winced when I got to those collar bones. I adore collar bones for some strange reason and have always liked them when I used to have them on me. I felt flushed with hopelessness. I looked back out the window. I have definitely had my fill of Ms. Svelte. I shifted my heavy mass uncomfortably in my seat and took stock of my pale legs which resembled gigantic blue ribbon winning turnips. I carefully placed my manila envelope in front of my gut. Perhaps somehow it would camouflage my rotund shame.

Oh well I sighed to myself as I looked out the window at the parade of people below. This is what it always feels like to be so out of place and so - well - so fucking LARGE. I then started the next reflex - how to rid myself of it.

sigh.

Habits, changing habits, adopting healthy habits, incorporating fruits, vegetables, whole grains, forgoing artificial sugars, more fiber, more water, less fat, more movement - yeah yeah yeah. At this point, I’m sure I can write a goddamn book on weight loss. It’s not ignorance that impedes my progress.

maybe, just maybe i don’t fucking care.

it’s like being in a bad marriage, a shit relationship of any kind whether you’re fucking them or not. it’s like you get used to it. it’s familiar. at some strange point, you almost long for the goddamn dysfunction.

me and food.

a horrible relationship.

it’s my best friend,
my worst enemy,
my sex substitute,
my anger outlet,
my consolation,
my retribution,
my advisor,
my conscience,
my confidant,
my downfall
my absolute addiction
my salvation.

oh well.

sigh.

the thought of another torturous journey into the extreme is rather daunting.

When i walk now i literally feel the giant lobes of ass rolling over from joint to joint. Shifting to each side with every step i take.

even the boat this morning that was selected for me for the sculling lesson was made for heavy weights. She was as slight as the birds that watched us from the reeds this morning and as deaf as the mossy stones under them. But she was a trooper and she gave me a fairly good lesson. I worried about her slipping and falling (she’s well into her 70’s) on that greasy bird shit laden dock but she holds her own that tough grey bird. I didn’t mind that she’s probably lost her hearing along the way and yells so loudly that you wonder if perhaps she’ll be contributing to your own hearing loss.

it was shaky, uncoordinated, cluster fuckish - like your first time - but i did it. my hefty ass carefully managing that shiny single craft. at a few choice moments i managed to stop concentrating on form and welcomed the searing sliver of sunlight that flashed on the still water. The birds seemed to enjoy the show of me and the wise one - one yelling across the water from her featherweight float and the other fumbling with those artificial long arms. at one point, in the middle of that green lake under that blue sky; i looked over at her and felt such admiration for her that it choked me up in the middle of my stroke. here she was someone’s mother, granny, daughter, sister, lover, friend - someone somewhere loved her in all of her hoarse glory.

well someone else besides me at 6:45am this morning.

Grueling.

Otherwise, I actually left fairly early tonight 6:30pm. I walked around the store for a bit looking for a blouse suitable for court tomorrow. I haven’t found a blouse that I like yet at my discount store. Oh well. Guess the jumper will have to do tomorrow.

It’s been unusually bright, sunny and warm in my City by the Bay.

Thanks everybody for all of your support and words of wisdom regarding this house buying project.

Meanwhile, Divorcee wanted to accompany me to a visit I had today out in Marin County so she could tell me about how she was falling in love with her indifferent man. She is so fucking insane. I felt bad for her especially after I saw her Mother’s house. Her Mother and Stepfather live in this incredible huge Victorian in Marin County. It’s actually a historical house complete with magnificent gardens and an amazing art studio (her mother is an artist). I was absolutely stunned by it! I felt like I was in some goddamn living art museum. Wow. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be so wealthy and to wake up in such splendor. I couldn’t help but again wonder how fate works out. The woman is also gorgeous, a regular Kim Novak looking woman who has never worked a day in her life and indulges in her creative whims. What does that feel like? To be able to indulge in your creative side to your fullest potential while living in luxury?

Now what’s worse, never having had that lifestyle or being the 40 year old daughter who grew up in luxury and now you’ve ended up in a studio apartment with a hot plate after 2 failed marriages but need to chase a 55 year old indifferent Marin’ite’ because you want to secure that lifestyle and you’re a crazy needy bitch?

Hmmm…. that’s a tough one.

I’m tired.

It was interesting today with a realtor driving you around. I have to admit it was nice to have someone else driving around for a change She could have used the GPS though because it would have been a more efficient use of time but she seemed to know her areas pretty well. I liked her, Mother of two youngest being 12 and she had her when she was 38 years old. She’s been in the biz for a good 20 years and loves real estate.

We went to see 3 houses. The first one was the one I found on the web in Oakland - the neighborhood was gamey but the house was pretty cute. The second one she found and it was built in 1944 with only two owners - it reminded me of military housing. Very boxy, sterile, small - when I first walked in - I felt depressed. Then come to find out the backyard is adjacent to an industrial gases manufacturing company that has yellow signs posted everywhere about ‘birth defects’ - even though they’ve moved to another city. I took one look at that depressed ‘barracks’ and those signs - nope - not for me. It was rather humorous when she said, ‘Well you don’t want to dismiss that property so quickly until some research is done on that company.’ Later after we got back to her office, she mentioned something about having a ‘chemical plant’ in your backyard and how that house depressed her as well. Oh well, I guess one woman’s chemical plant is another woman’s opportunity to make a buck but it pays to have a small brain on top of these thick shoulders. A very tiny one, but one nevertheless.

I told her she can send me listings, I’ll send her listings and we’ll work that way. I let her know that I can go out alone and she let me know that she would be willing to take me to the ones she feels would be most suitable for my intentions. She did know some of the neighborhoods in the reasonable part of town so that was good.

Now the joint that her office is in is like the mansions of Berkeley - very very fancy neighborhoods in the hills. Driving through rich neighborhoods always makes me wonder why fate never allowed me to experience such a luxury that quickly morphs to ‘well - rich people are fucked up’. Before you’ve let that sink in - you quickly move to ‘WTF?! I’m fucked up - I have every right to be sitting on my white Malaga leather sofa on my espresso bamboo floors listening to jazz on my BOSE home speaker system while sipping Pineau des Charentes, freshly pressed grape juice from a crystal goblet that my assistant Laurent has brought me while impatiently awaiting my stretch limo to take me to yet ANOTHER dinner at French Laundry.

WTF?!!!! Yeah yeah, I’m a hater.

No shame in that game honestly - because I can whine with the best of ‘em.

Well we also saw really cool house in the middle of a drab neighborhood but the single older guy musician wanna be built a ginormous tool workshop in the garage and got rid of all of the grass - put concrete down otherwise it was a cute house. I don’t know who will buy that thing - probably another craftsman like himself. I liked the garden that he had built up around the concrete - it was really quite wonderful. But a big NO because of the lack of green space and I didn’t like that the tiny sliver of a closet was shared between both rooms so if you’re fucking in one room - you best believe your kids, brother, mother will be hearing your bullshit. And frankly - THAT is not gonna work. Eventually I intend to get laid again and paper thin sliding closet doors between rooms is not gonna work.

So after we went back to her office, I hit one more place and it was alright. I’m not much on corner houses. I think it’s a bit more traffic than I would like - the area was fine but the freeway was within hearing distance so that part wasn’t cool. I walked out to the backyard and you could hear the cars zooming along. Nope, there’s no amount of foliage that could mask that so oh well - back to the drawing board. It was funny when the agent saw me walk out to the back door within my first 3 minutes - she said, ‘Looks like you’re a gardner!’ I smiled as I thought to myself, ‘Hell no - I just wanna another space to make a mess.’

Just kidding, you know I’ll be fat ass deep in soil, shrubs and bulbs once I get back there because I know I want a tranquil setting in which to chill the fuck out.

One of the ones we saw today was bank owned but in really great shape. It was sad to traipse through this house that someone had lovingly painted so many crayola crayon colors that I felt queasy at one point. Obviously someone had loved that house enough to pick out a bright shade of lime jungle green for the living room and invest that brown wooden banana leaf ceiling fan. It even had a jacuzzi bathtub that dominated that puny tiny white toilet. My agent thought that they had refinanced so many times for upgrades etc that they ended up not being able to afford their home. She was also surprised at how well it was cared for considering it was a bank repo. I walked away from it thinking that it was sad and the neighborhood was a bit gamey for my tastes.

So this makes a total of 17 houses that I’ve seen in 3 weeks. Not to mention countless numbers on the internet. Tideous if you ask me. But I’m taking next weekend off for Labor Day and she says it’ll pick up in September and October - so that should be interesting.

Nothing is easy huh? You get a loan for an amount that you know is a bit more than you really feel comfortable with and you’re trying your best to come as low as you can without living in a bullet zone while still trying to have a quiet backyard and some room to grow because you anticipate your still unemployed brother as well as your complaining, demanding Mother would someday need to come stay. Shit. But honestly, you gotta do for you and your kids (well the ones you’re gonna get anyways) - if the relatives come along - they’d better come along with some cash to move the tribe into a bigger home.

Today that agent in the last house told me a lady had seen 400 houses before she decided on her dream home then went and took all of her flyers from all of her open houses and used it to create rows and rows of banners to decorate her new house for her housewarming party.

Can you imagine 400 homes? WTF?! I thought my ole boss was batty because she hit up 200. That same lady went on to be a real estate agent. WOW. That was interesting. Obviously she had a love for that shit. No, it’s alright to go to other people’s homes for something other than reports of child abuse/neglect - but I’ve had my fill of home visits to last me a lifetime. I hope this process will move quickly.

I have NO intention of peeping into 200 disasters (my price range) before I make a decent choice. But all of this browsing is beginning to form what I find appealing about a space. Very interesting indeed. Now if I could just find one - I saw some cuties but they would need to be transplanted in the other’s neighborhoods etc - that’s in a decent place, in decent shape with a decent back yard we’re good to go.

Somethings are easier said than done but persistence is the key. I’m in two bedroom bungalow hell for now but hell - there are worst places I could be like living in my 500 sq foot box for the rest of eternity alone. Now that’s a thought no?

Next week is sheer hell at work, I’m going to Denver (one day round trip!) on Wednesday, a messy court hearing on Tuesday, a 40 minute drive outta the city tomorrow morning and then it looks like my Thursday is completely clear. Maybe I’ll just work from home (get a work laptop with the network on it) on Thursday. It sounds miserable to me but at least I won’t have to drive anywhere. Then I could catch up all weekend with this miserable laptop. Hmmmm, that actually sounds pretty decent because it’s been a real pain knowing that I have a million notes to put in the computer.

Yawn.

It’s 5:29 on Sunday evening and I’m feeling rather wistful about the day.

It’s good however, to be on my couch in one piece reflecting on the upcoming challenges of life.

I really can’t complain.