Archives for category: diary

My reply to the prompt Unseen

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There was a time back when I was first married that my sister and I played in a volleyball league together. We played every Wednesday night, and many times went out for beers afterwards.

We were in the league for a year or two when I became pregnant with my first child. I continued to play as long as I could, but by the 5th or 6th month, I had to stop. My belly would get in the way more times than not, and it was hard to curb the instinct to dive for the ball.

At the end of the season, everyone got together for drinks and food at a local bar. My sister asked me to come along, and even though I couldn’t really drink, it would be nice to see all my league-mates again and catch up. After all, I hadn’t seen anyone for a month or two.

At the end of the evening, they gave out silly awards. I clapped and laughed as each person was called up to get a certificate of merit for their particular talent (or lack thereof). With each new award, I thought, “is this me?” Nope. Next award, “is this me?” Nope.

And then the awards ended. I had been totally ignored. Nobody even thought to include me, just because I had missed a month or two of playing. Hell, my award would’ve been easy to come up with…”best setter with baby on board” or “best baby bump.”

But I got nothing, and it really hurt my feelings. l was forgotten. I was unseen.

The rest of the evening I forced smiles and laughs when all I really wanted to do was cry. I thought these people liked me. It felt like high school volleyball all over again; surround by team mates who in reality didn’t want to play with you at all.

I stopped playing with them. I might have gone back few times after I had the baby, but it just wasn’t as fun anymore. I didn’t feel at all like I was a part of this group. It was as if when I showed up to play, they were thinking, “oh, she’s here?”

My sister stuck with it. Where it had started as our league, it finished as her league. Sometimes I’d ask, “What are you doing this weekend?” and she’d mention a party someone in “the league” was having, and I’d feel a twinge of sadness, shame, and anger.

Hell, I spent most of my life outside the in-crowd, and at the age of 30 I was surprised at how much it still hurt to be an outsider.

walking

Yesterday I booked my passage on the Island Home ferry to Martha’s Vineyard. We are going as a family over the July 4th weekend to spread my father’s ashes. While the reason for the trip may be somber, we are going to celebrate the place that, thanks to my father, was our summer vacation spot.

July.

6 1/2 months away and yet I feel like it’s right around the corner. I’ve got just that long to shed some of the lbs. I packed on last year. I’ll admit, compared to 2015, I was really inactive over much of 2016. The time to turn that around is now.

I made a goal of walking at least 30 miles in January, and shy of contracting the flu, I plan on shattering that number by the 31st. It feels good to have set a goal and even better to be sticking to it. I sort of gave up on my walking regime towards the end of last year. It was super hot during the summer, and then I just got lazy once the cooler temps came.

Sticking to a plan, even if it is just walking more, is quite motivational. I’m making other small changes each week that passes, and with any luck, it will raise the gung-ho spirit I need to really put my rear into overdrive.

Cause July really is just around the corner.

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For years and years I was not a fan of Twitter. I just didn’t get it…throwing a thought out there for nobody to see. Me? I’m more of a Facebook gal…friends and comments and likes and sharing. I love the interactiveness of it. I had a Twitter account, I just rarely used it.

Until the election.

I quickly realized that posting my feelings about then candidate Donald Trump turned my Facebook page into a battlefield of opinions. I didn’t like that. I also didn’t like seeing other people’s crap about Hillary, so I stopped posting political things. And, after unfollowing the majority of my über vocal and misinformed Republican friends on FB, things got a lot better.

But I needed to vent somewhere.

So, I turned back to Twitter. There I could pretty much say whatever I wanted to. I only had 40 or so followers…who was there to offend? I voiced my outrage against Trump and my love of Hillary on a daily basis during the election.

I spent all three Presidential debates at the computer, Tweeting good points and bad, and reading what others had to say. It was very enlightening – maybe there WAS something to Twitter that I had previously overlooked.

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And then, numb, afraid and pissed off on November 9, I began my new relationship with Twitter. I began to follow like-minded Americans who refuse to swallow the Orange Kool-Aid. I am hash tagging and retweeting to anyone who will listen to my outrage against Trump’s lies and contradictions.

Twitter is my platform where I can stand up and scream, “THIS IS WRONG!” And I love it.

I’ll still post a few things here and there regarding our liar-elect on Facebook, but I mostly reserve those things for Twitter. Now I just need to get more than 46 followers….

In response to the daily prompt word, which was Float

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Around 10 years ago, we were on our yearly family vacation in Palm Coast, Florida visiting my dad. Our beach of choice while we are down there is Flagler Beach, a) because it’s right down the road from his house, and b) because it’s just an awesome beach.

My girls were young, and were playing in the surf under the watchful eye of their dad, and I decided to swim out a little.

A little.

I was treading water and decided it was time to head back in. I start kicking and paddling, and realize I’m not really getting anywhere. Every time I point a toe down to feel the sandy bottom of the ocean floor, all I feel is ocean.

I looked at a dude on his surf board, who was only a few yards away. I thought to myself, “should I ask him for help?” At this point I was very jealous of his floatation device. He could sit there cool as a cucumber, while I was beginning to feel the warm seed of panic growing in my lower belly.

Was I caught in a riptide?

rip-current

And then I remembered my father, who always said if you can’t get back to shore, swim parallel to the beach and eventually you’ll be able to make you way in.

For the next 5-10 minutes I floated and swam, floated and swam parallel to the shore, but moving slightly toward the beach with each kick and stroke. And finally, I could touch bottom. I lumbered my way through the surf and onto the beach where I heaved an audible sigh of relief.

I was safe, and I did it on my own. I didn’t need to be rescued by either surfer dude or the lifeguard. I walked back to where we were sitting…I was a good 75 yards down the beach…and plopped into my chair, out of breath. I told my sister and nieces what had happened, but seeing that I was back safe & sound, they didn’t make much of it.

But it had frightened me. I doubt either of my girls would have been able to keep cool and figure their way out of it. Now, I repeatedly tell them the same advice my father gave me every single time we are at the beach, and I encourage them to bring a boogie board with them in the water just in case.

And I watch them very closely…from the beach.

via Daily Prompt: Mope

bad-2016

With the exception of two events, 2016 really sucked.

The two events? My daughter’s graduation from VCU and getting the best job of my life. Those are the only saving graces from 2016.

I spent a lot of 2016 moping. I remember long days at my desk at the real estate office, with little to do and less motivation to do what little work I had. I hated my job. I hated that it was only part time. I hated that I was chained to my desk, that getting time off required the approval of several people (in an office that only had 35 employees). I hated that I had no health or dental insurance, sans what little Obamacare offered me.

While I hated my job, I was grateful to have it, which was also mope-worthy. There had to be more to life than just working at a job you hated going to in order to pay the bills.

I had also stopped walking as much as I did. After pounding the pavement to the tune of 900 miles in 2015, and losing almost no weight in the process, I was discouraged. This year I only squeaked out 251 miles. The end result? I feel like shit as 2016 comes to a close.

The election? Let’s not even start. I am so disappointed in our country, who let a lying, racist, p*ssy grabbing con man get control of our lives. Fuck moping – I want to scream almost every day. I think my main goal in 2017 will be ignoring the fact that we have a president. I’ll just float down that river we call DaNile for a little while.

And my dad. Losing my dad sucked. Thinking back on all the vacations my family took to Dad’s house in Florida…all those days at Flagler Beach, playing volleyball in the pool, shots of slivovice with my sisters, and long dinners followed by story telling and reminiscing with dad. All gone.

That coupled with the election of Trumpsy Dumpsy really let wind out of my sails. I didn’t care about Christmas, I really didn’t care about anything.

But a new year is coming – it’s just days away and I can look forward to making improvements in my life. I’ve got this great job, with great benefits…I’ve got everything to live for, so it’s time to start taking better care of myself. Time to ignore the giant pumpkin in the white house and look at the joy in my own house.

Here’s to 2017.

matchbox-logo

For Christmas my girls bought me a Matchbox Karmann Ghia. I have a small collection of Karmann Ghia cars on my desk because it was the first car I ever owned and it is quite possibly the coolest car on the planet.

I was excited when I opened it, and then I looked closely at the car. Wait, was this a Karmann Ghia? I quickly scanned the packaging…Yep, it says Karmann Ghia down the side. But this car really looks nothing like a Karmann Ghia.

good-car

Here is an example of a good Karmann Ghia model. Note the rounded headlights that protrude, the rounded front nose. Note the back that slopes downward, but has small fins. Also note the convertible top. I had a convertible, and the when the top was down, it looked just like that.

Now, look at the piece of crap Mattel/Matchbox tried to pass off as a Karmann Ghia

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This looks nothing like a Karmann Ghia. Nothing. This could be any car – it lacks all the tell-tale characteristics…the personality of a Karmann Ghia. Really look at them side by side…do you see ANY similarities?

I was so disappointed. It sits among my other Karmann Ghia’s because it serves as a reminder of how toy manufacturing sucks these days. How could Mattel let this slide by? How could anyone look at this model and think it’s a proper representation?

What a rip off.

In true Typical Tracy form I have written Mattel and voiced my displeasure and outrage. I doubt I’ll hear back from them. But someone out there needs to know that this is bullshit.

Rant done.

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I don’t know what is wrong with me. I have zero Christmas spirit this year.

It might be because December was very busy for us this year. We had things to do every weekend from visiting family, one daughter’s birthday, and another daughter’s college graduation. The next thing I knew it was 10 days before Christmas and I didn’t even have my tree up.

Here’s what I did do.
I got a tree and put lights on it.
I put up lights on the house.

That’s it.

The tree has no decorations. I haven’t addressed a single Christmas card. I have started our family newsletter, but can’t seem to finish it. I didn’t set up our Christmas village…didn’t even take one box out of the closet. I didn’t set out any of my Christmas chachkis…The tin santas, the snowman on the sleigh, my wire reindeer, and the wooden santa with the little tiles that count down the days to Christmas are all still in their box up in my closet crawlspace.

As it got so late in December, I figured it was a waste to take them out only to have to put them back a week or so later. Same with the tree decorations. We don’t have a single ornament on the tree.

I had almost no time to shop. I did a fair share of it online, and one of my packages didn’t come at all even though I ordered it in November. Fucking low rent seller on Amazon. They’ll be getting a call from me on Monday.

Even wrapping presents today was a chore. I came to the realization as I huddled over my bed, struggling with cheap paper and a stubborn roll of scotch tape, that I hate wrapping.

I have deemed 2016 as the most unmerry of Christmases ever.

This may have a lot to do with my dad dying and a giant dangerous Cheeto as president elect. It seems life has little meaning.

At least I have good health coverage.

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Yesterday was my birthday, and let me tell you…birthdays sure have changed in the past 52 years.

My earliest birthday recognition was getting a Sesame Street 45 rpm of Bert and Ernie singing “Rubber Duckie.” It came with a book too. Another memory is waking up on my birthday to find a Baby Tenderlove doll in my arms.

Ah, those were the days.

Birthdays were a sacred thing when you were younger because it was your day.

Yet as an adult, I’ve never been the type of person to “remind” people that my birthday is coming up. There were quite a few years at work that nobody even knew, and I just sort of waltzed through the day without one “Happy Birthday.”

Technology has kind of changed all that. Now, when you wake up on your birthday, your Facebook feed is filled with well-wishes, and in my case, photos of me that my sisters have posted…some of which I wish they hadn’t. My email is filled with free offers….everything from a free sub at Jersey Mike’s to a free eye shadow at Ulta. Even the teller at the bank wished me

Not too shabby.

My best gift for my birthday this year is my job. I am so incredibly thankful for the job I have now, especially after yesterday. We had a staff meeting, and managers were urged to give shout outs to employees who have done praise-worthy things. Being relatively new, I wasn’t expecting anything.

Yet lo and behold, I got not one but TWO shout outs! One for for a media kit I designed that turned out really well. But the one that really touched me was from the Art Director of our publications. I really respect him, he’s amazingly talented and he’s been here a long, long time.

He said that he’s very happy that I was the one who was hired for the job – that he was impressed at how seamless the transition was from the old designer to me. I blew him a kiss, but I really almost started to cry.

Because you know how when you’re at a new job, you never really know how you’re doing? Are they impressed with your work or just luke warm about your performance?

Now I know. They’re super happy and that’s the best birthday present I’ve had in a long while.

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My family and I spent the Thanksgiving holiday in a small hotel room in Hampton, Virginia. Hubby had a week-long stint driving the Zamboni for Disney on Ice, and rather than make him spend the holiday alone, we decided to spend it with him.

I’m not a big fan of staying in hotels. I’m an early riser and my family is not which can be troublesome in a small hotel room. I don’t like not having all my stuff, and I don’t like living out of a suitcase. Plus, I never get to watch what I want on the TV.

But our biggest struggle was where to eat on Thanksgiving. Most restaurants were closed. Their were places offering a traditional Thanksgiving dinner, but were also super expensive…like $40 per person.

Nuh-uh.

We were contemplating one restaurant with food that cost around $15 each, when we discovered that Golden Corral was open until 4 pm. $15 for all you can eat (which is half the point of Thanksgiving dinner) or $15 for one plate of food.

We opted for all you can eat. It’s not Thanksgiving unless you need to undo the top button of your pants, right? Besides, there was a certain white-trash allure to eating at a Golden Corral.

What an experience it was.  The place was absolutely mobbed. Line out the door, and a cashier who complained the whole time she was filling our water glasses and taking our money.

The food? It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t horrible either. Kind of like Thanksgiving at home when I cook.

Ha ha.

What struck me as odd were the throngs of families, who, rather than gather at someone’s house to eat, decided to pay $15 a person to sit and eat at a Golden Corral. I mean some of these tables had 15 people at them – that’s a chunk of change.

In any case, it was a pretty hum-drum holiday…one that I don’t want to repeat next year if possible. The one good thing about it was, I had my family around me. My two girls and my Zamboni driving husband.

That’s really all that mattered.

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A brand-spanking new Wegmans super market just opened up in Charlottesville.

This was big, big news. In a town filled with Krogers, Harris Teeters, Giant, and of course, Food Lion a new supermarket with a stellar reputation and a cult-like following was all anyone could talk about outside of the disastrous Presidential election.

My daughter and I went opening day. I am always up early, so when I realized the new Wegman’s was opening in half an hour, I roused my sleeping girl and we drove the 30 minutes to town to check it out. We got there at 8 am and the store was PACKED.

We spent an hour browsing, ogling, tasting and fighting the throngs of people trying to navigate their way through the unfamiliar store. I didn’t come away with a “WEGMANS FOREVER!” attitude… but the store was crowded, and my daughter was getting over a cold, so the shopping experience wasn’t stellar.

I gave the store a 2nd chance the next time I went. The wine I like was way cheaper than where I usually buy it (check!), but they didn’t carry the brand of maxi pads my daughter likes (uncheck!). The jury was still out.

I took my husband with me to the new Wegmans yesterday, and although the store was still packed, I reached a verdict. While searching for items like pasta sauce and juice, I realized that Wegmans does not carry a wide variety of products. When in the pasta sauce aisle they had 20 varieties of Wegmans sauces, but only 3 Classico brands. They also had a ton of Rao’s sauce, which I can’t afford, and a ton of Ragu and Prego, which just plain suck.

And that was pretty much it. 5 choices. WTF.

Same with the juice. I usually buy a juice blend by Welch’s or Tropicana to drink with breakfast. All they had was Wegmans, Newman’s Own, and one other brand that escapes  me now.

When I needed breakfast sausage my only brand choice was Wegmans. Tzatziki sauce? Wegmans only. Sorry folks, I need more.

Yeah, if I need fancy brie, good bread or ridiculously expensive whitefish spread, I’ll go to Wegmans. Other than that, I’ll stick to Food Lion and Giant where I get variety at good prices.

And if we ever get a Publix? THEN I’ll be excited.