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Archive for May, 2014

I’m A Rude Son

My mother’s twin brother died on Monday night. My mother will not return my calls. She told my brother I was rude to her during our phone conversation on Mother’s Day. And she wonders why I moved away thirty-two years ago.

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I Got A Bad One

Last week my mother told me she really missed eating seafood, especially fried shrimp. I made arrangements for my nephew to take my parents to Red Lobster as a Mother’s Day gift. On Sunday when I told my mother about my arrangements she came up with ten excuses why she could not, and would not, go to Red Lobster, or any other seafood restaurant. I was dumbfounded. Only days earlier she told me she would really like to have fried shrimp yet when I make arrangements for her to have fried shrimp she refuses to go. What a bitch!

I read many blog posts by other bloggers about their wonderful mothers and their special loving relationships. I envy those bloggers. I didn’t get one of the good ones. I got a passive-aggressive mother who’s a master at manipulation. I try to do something that I thought she would appreciate but she wants to part of it. I don’t know why I even tried.

She has hated every gift I’ve sent her in recent history. She wanted fudge for her birthday. I sent several pounds of fudge from Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. She didn’t like it. My brother and sil took the fudge home and enjoyed it. My mother wanted divinity without nuts for Christmas. I sent her a package from a candy company in New Mexico. It was the only supplier online I could find that offered a nut-free option. She hated the divinity. She said it was the worst thing she ever ate. She threw it in the trash.

No matter what I do I can’t win with this woman. It’s no wonder my mother doesn’t have any friends.

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Snow

It’s May 11th and it’s snowing. The forecast calls for four to nine inches of accumulation. The trees have leafed out so there’s a good chance of losing power as branches break and fall on power lines. Welcome to spring in Colorado.

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My gym is not a fancy place. It’s a national chain. It’s not a high end gym like Pura Vida or the Cherry Creek Athletic Club. I don’t expect a lot from the gym. I don’t need a pool or an indoor running track. I just need the basics. A few weight machines, free weights and cardio machines. My gym suits my needs.

While doing squats on Friday I was disgusted by the spit marks on the mirror in front of me. It looked like the stars on the ceiling of a planetarium. Instead of gazing at stars I was staring at a million drops of spit that had dried on the mirror. It was a milky way of saliva drops. I moved on to a leg press machine for more muscle torture. The small gust of wind created by dropping my towel on the floor forced a group of dust bunnies to scurry into the aisle. I made a mental note to quit dropping my towel on the floor. I started to notice the gym is really filthy. Even though the gym employs a cleaner he seems to be oblivious to the dust and grime on the machines and under the weight stacks. There are dust bunnies everywhere. I don’t expect the gym to be a pristine place but I don’t expect to see dust bunnies. I’m thankful that I live a few blocks from the gym so I don’t have to use the showers. I can’t image the horrors that I would find in there.

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A Virgin Driveway

Sheila has become best buds with the foreman of the construction site next door to her. It seems they’ve been having periodic chats when Sheila takes her daily morning walk. The foreman has been talking to Sheila about his frustrations with owners, particularly the wife. The foreman walked off the job earlier in the week because he had it with the new princess in town. There have been endless change orders from the new princess. The project is now $850,000 over budget. The new princess doesn’t like the bluestone patio in the backyard so the workers are tearing it out. Her latest request is not to pour the driveway until the house is ready. The new princess wants a virgin driveway so she can be the first person to drive on it. She doesn’t want any of the workers to drive their trucks on it. I think princess needs therapy.

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Continued Incompetence

Mr. I continues to prove his incompetence. It’s the third week of a four week production cycle and he has twenty projects that have not been assigned to analysts. Mr. I wants to maintain control so he is the only one who can assign projects. The projects should have been assigned to analysts at the start of the production cycle. Mr. I is going to get raked over the coals by the program manager on a conference call in about an hour. I decided not to tell Mr. I about the ambush. He deserves what he gets.

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Art Night

I’m meeting Cindi and Joe tonight for a gallery stroll. Cindi wants to avoid the Santa Fe Street crowds and go to Robischon in LoDo and few of the galleries in RiNo. There’s a Rockies’ game tonight so parking in LoDo is going to be sparse and pricey. I normally try to avoid Santa Fe on first Friday but Mai Wyn Fine Art is opening a group show with Peter Illig, Joshua Goss and Debra Jang, to name a few. I love Peter Illig’s work. He had a show at Pirate a few years ago that almost made cry. It was a monumentally beautiful and stunning charcoal drawing that wrapped around three walls of the gallery. I’ll never forget that show. K took his Peter Illig pieces when he moved to St. Louis so I would like to acquire a new piece. I would also like to have Debra Jang piece. I’m looking forward to this evening.

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