The Birthday Tribe

My 47th birthday is exactly one week from today.

For as long as I can remember the month prior to my birthday has always thrown me off. Most of my life the entire month of November felt like a scratch I could not itch, I felt unsettled, like there was something profoundly wrong, yet I could not pin point what the particular thing was exactly.

Through the years I have been able to shorten it to about a week, and although I did feel the inkling of this all too familiar feeling around the 10th I resisted the urge to give into it, but it can't be avoided.

It takes a few days to encompass me, and looking back it must have begun last Thursday when I found myself preoccupied with the cholesterol deposit the eye doctor told me was beside the retina on my right eye.

Although she assured me it would have no bearing on my sight, since she told me I have felt had trouble focusing on objects in the distance.

It was last Thursday I actually called her just to make sure she was positive it would not ultimately grow over my retina and blind me, or worse give me one of those clouded over eyeballs. One time I was at a carnival and I saw a guy with a goiter and a clouded over eye ball, and so in my mind the three things are associated- carney, goiter clouded over eye ball....and before I know it I'm spinning.

The doctor was sure, I would be fine.

I didn't realize it until today, but that is when the "it" began, this odd sort of low grade panic that overcomes me this time of year.

Since I have had it for the majority of my life, in my early twenties I did discuss it with a therapist. She suggested in a past life I may have been part of a tribe that did something terrible to you on your birthday and I have carried this memory with me into this life.

Although I have completely accepted this as a rational theory, it has occurred to me that a person would have to be a complete dumb shit to belong to this kind of tribe.

Apparently, I was one of those dumb shits.

For me I can't help but think about what I'm not- what I haven't done- my laundry list of what I thought I would be by this point in my life - and what I am. I know that sounds harsh, but I can't help myself- its woven into my DNA like the color of my eyes- my father suffers from the same plight.

"Whats the alternative to not having a birthday, if you don't have a birthday your dead," my mother has said to me many times over the years.

My mother is right, certainly at the minimum it is some form of neurosis...or maybe I was the member of moronic tribe....

Socks and Voting

I hold socks as having very little if any importance.

Although I certainly own socks, I rarely wear socks for any other purpose than to warm up my feet. I almost never wear socks with shoes.

But this week I did wear socks with shoes and I couldn't remember the last time I wore a pair but it has to be at least a year.

As a result of my non socks wearing my shoes tend to have a bad odor, which doesn't really have anything to do with anything other than it is a fact, and certainly a draw back to my inability to wear socks with shoes.

I will call it an inability.

It may have been about 10 years ago I gave up on the sock wearing, as my feet tend to get really hot with socks and my feet are like a temperature gauge to my whole body, so I would walk around really hot all the time- until I stopped wearing socks....

At some point in my adulthood I gave up on certain things I didn't ever enjoy doing but did as I felt as though I should.

It was 17 years ago I stopped wearing dresses. I know this because this was at my sisters wedding to her now ex husband.

Granted I was not ever a big dress wearer, yet this was the demarcation in my mind- and I will say without hesitation I will never wear a dress again. If I am invited to an event which requires me to wear a dress, I just won't be going- so there's that.

It really wasn't until this year I gave up on the entire concept of exercise and democracy. We had a gym membership at a really cool gym until August of this year, and I think I went five times over the year we had the membership.

My relinquishment of most things physical came gradually, I gave up hiking and then bike riding, and then really any organized sport, and then any exercise all together. It was around the time I decided to abandoned any self imposed diet restrictions that I lost 30 lbs.

I may never vote again, as I really don't believe in the process- and in the end I really don't think it matters- it was such an enormous relief to me to let go of the idea that what I thought or said or did made any difference in regard to the political landscape of the country.

I know the argument- if everyone felt this way imagine who would be in power...like a potential presidential candidate who has a reality show and whose daughter, after becoming a teen mother, is a finalist on "Dancing With the Stars" (although the daughter is neither a dancer or a star) .

Imagine a person who has shown to not understand, or to completely misunderstand basic legal and political concepts in which our entire system is based as the leader of the free world.

If people gave up on democracy maybe a person like that would be taken seriously by an entire political movement....

So I will continue to not wear socks.

Beano

Tonight I saw a ad for Beano, a product which helps reduce gas.

I have no idea if Beano is effective, and I will most likely never know- it is something I would never buy.

Pepto Bismol is the acceptable product to have in your medicine cabinet, first of all its a cheery pink color and although for a sour stomach, doesn't seem as in your face as a product called Beano.

It's a habit I have been in since living alone. I only place items in my medicine cabinet which make me seem as though I really don't have any problems because if a girl I was dating was smart, she was going to take a look.

This eliminates most prescription drugs, which I typically hide in the back of my underwear drawer.

In the medicine cabinet I tried to keep the following;
Icy Hot, some cloth tape, and an ace bandage as I felt it made me seem athletic. Excedrin for a pain reliever, as this says I'm serious, Benedril, as this is prudent, dental floss- good oral hygiene, a yellow custard cup filled with q-tips- giving me a playful side, and the most important item- a box of throat lozenges from France.

Although it really doesn't have to be from France, but it has to have another language on the box other than Spanish or English- this item makes you seem international- translated- more interesting.

There are many who don't abide by these rules, to their detriment.

Whenever given the opportunity the first thing I would always do- check out her medicine cabinet. Since most people use this area as an actual storage for medicine it can be a tool to determine if you want to proceed with the relationship.

You have to know what your looking for.

Any type of birth control, this means she is bi-sexual, and the bi girls always go back to men. Any kind of anti psychotic drugs, but I would allow most anti-depressants and anti-anxiety drugs- yet its best to take a look at the dosage recommendations, personally I tried not to date someone taking more than 4 mood stabilizers in a day.

Also on the don't look back and run list are drugs for the treatment of any sexually transmitted disease, self explanatory, little post it notes from the ex, unavailable. A crack pipe, treatment for hemorrhoids, and really any cream for the vag area...and of course- Beano

Thinking About...

I know I at some point I will want to take this back, but right now I can't wait until the girls can speak.

We have a list going of all the words they can say at this point, Sadie is more verbal than her sister. Camille has learned to shake her head no, which is actually sort of helpful as I am constantly guessing what they want - it makes the narrowing down easier.

What I really want to know is what they think about, yet I tend to wonder about this with other living beings who can't communicate- like my dogs- and sometimes the chicken.

I know the pigs only think about food, eating food, finding food- its only one thought for them.

It seems as though the rabbits are preoccupied with fear, dwelling on all the things that could possibly kill them...which is pretty uninteresting, as a rabbit can be killed by almost anything.

Unfortunately, there has been quite a bit of rabbit murder here at 2107, so if the remaining rabbits are thinking rabbits, they actually should be preoccupied with their mortality.

Of all the animals the cats are by far the most clever, but I do think they take themselves to seriously.

Clearly the dogs have the best sense of humor, but I imagine they would be amused by slap stick- The Three Stooges- I Love Lucy- which I personally find felony annoying and without any real entertainment value, but it occurs to me the dogs lack the sophistication to enjoy a good Woody Allen movie ( editors note: the last really good Woody Allen move was Hannah and Her Sisters).

I have spent hours imagining what the animals I live with are thinking about...and now I spend inordinate amounts of time imagining what the babies I live with think about.

I can't wait to ask them and have them tell me. Until then I have been training them to think about what I think about...candy.

Kurt Cobain and Paxil

On my ipod I have a "When I'm Melancholy" playlist.

My #1 go to song- All Apologies

"Find my nest of salt, everything is my fault
I'll take all the blame, aqua seafoam shame"

I know its cliche, but when I'm depressed I really like listening to Kurt Cobain.

I like listening to him because a. He was a depressed person and b. It depresses me to think about him, so it really works for me on two levels.

Although I'm not feeling depressed per se I have been sleeping a lot which is typically a sign of depression, and tonight when I found myself listening to the "When I'm Melancholy " play list, I had to consider the possibility.

I prefer using the term melancholy, as it doesn't sound like mental illness.

Gioconda says I am "melancholy" 361 days a year.

"I really think its more, but I'm being generous," she said.

"Is it four full days of not being melancholy or four days in aggregate over the year?," I replied.

"In aggregate," she responded.

Harsh.

It might be true.

For a while I was keeping a journal but I found it unsettling to go back and read in times I felt in retrospect were fine, were in fact filled with moderate to severe levels of anxiety.

"The most terrible aspect of not passing the bar exam would be the public nature of the failure. I woke up at 5:00 am considering if I should begin to study again or not..." I wrote prior to getting results back when life was "easy" in 1994.

And then after passing; "...and now there are expectations of me I am unsure I can fulfill.." .

And this is why I don't keep a journal.

One would think passing the bar was a good thing, apparently I was still able to twist that accomplishment around in order to satisfy some neurosis.

" I feel like my life is on the edge of a cliff and it slips a little more every day," I told my doctor a few weeks back.

"Prozac, Zoloft or Paxil?" she asked.

"Paxil," I replied.

So, I'm hoping in about 8 weeks I'll improve on the 4 days a year.

Peter and Gloria

This afternoon my sister in law had a birthday party for her boyfriend.

Let me start by saying I really like my sister in law, and I really like her boyfriend, individually- yet as a couple- not so much.

In the last 8 years Peter and Gloria have broken up an average 3.5 x year, typically for no more than a month. They usually break up around August and September, get back together in time for Thanksgiving staying together over the holidays, and then break up again around February, getting back together in April, which last until Mid-June, then a short break up until July, and the cycle begins again.

I add in the .5 because there might be a week here and there through out the year.

Peter is a retired IBM middle manager, Gloria works as a counselor with Transsexual sex workers- Peter's a white republican, Gloria is a Latina who I would put on the left side of left. To their cores they are very different people, and not different that compliments each other like pineapple on pizza, different like tuna in a hot fudge sunday.

The beginning of November is always a together month, and so this afternoon Gloria had a lunch for Peter and his friends.

I have met Peter's friends on other occasions and find them to be not similar to me in any fashion, yet very nice. Still when there is a party with his friends and her family its like a soiree with iguanas and zebras.

Every time they break up I think to myself that this will be the last time, and every single time they get back together. In June of this year Gloria's daughter graduated from high school, and began her first semester living at college this fall, so without the complications of a child living at home one would could think this back together may stick.

I don't think so.

Around the end of January their arguments will become more heated to the point one of them will blow up and call it off, its just how it happens.

I seem to be the only one tracking the break ups, everyone else I live with just takes it in stride. Now we just invite Peter to whatever gathering no matter of his boyfriend status, it will change in the matter of a few weeks one way or the other.

Here's the crazy part, no one ever talks about it except for me.

"Don't you think they are sort of old to break up and get back together that often," I've asked.

Gioconda's family will just shrug.

"It's what they do," her father told me.

This year may be different, they may not make it to Christmas.

Although they have only been back together for a few weeks at the party this afternoon Peter seemed to get really angry there were not enough forks, and I think I saw Gloria roll her eyes, they are a good 3-4 weeks ahead of schedule in terms of lingering resentment....

The Dry Cleaners

I find I avoid gas stations in which I can't pay at the pump. Although its more convenient that's not the reason I prefer it. Given a choice I definitely choose not interacting - meaning I would much rather deal with a machine than a human.

I can't remember the last time I actually went into a bank. The fact I can do 99% of my banking through an ATM is absolutely liberating.

I hated dealing with bank tellers, the sideways glance when they see how much money you don't have in your account. I don't miss the judgement.

I only wish there was a way to eliminate interacting with a human at the dry cleaners. After trying several different places around my house the best and cheapest place is right up the street, but theres a lady who works there who always wants to talk about my clothes.

"You have a lot of shirts in dark colors," she said last week.

I wanted to tell her to shut up, but after the ugly incident in which I repeatedly insisted I had left a pair of jeans to be altered, just to find them at home later, I held my tongue.

I have varied the time I go, hoping I'll miss her shift, but apparently she works there all the time, as every time I go, at any hour, on any day, there she is- with something stupid to say about my sweaters.

In truth, I'm basically drained by most people so I am certainly not the arbiter of appropriate conversation on most levels, yet it does seem as though some of her comments are over the line.

Once I took in a few of maternity clothes of Gioconda's when she was pregnant with the girls.

"Is someone you live with going to have a baby?," she asked.

It made me furious for a minute.

"Yes," I answered. Before she could ask who, I told her I needed to pick up the clothes by the end of the week and fled.

What I am hoping to live to see is a world in which transactions of every kind are conducted with assistance of high functioning robots.

Ford Flex

For the last ten years I have driven a BMW or a Mercedes.

I know this makes me sound like an asshole, but its the truth. Last year around this time I traded in my E series Mercedes for a Ford Flex.

Gioconda was driving a Range Rover, and after we got the Ford Flex she drove that car and I drove the Ranger Rover.

Now, for a variety of reasons she has decided she wants to drive the Ranger Rover leaving me with the Ford Flex.

Here's the thing, I pay the payment on the Ford Flex, and she pays the lease on the Ranger Rover and the Ranger Rover is significantly more- so for the past year I have been a Ranger Rover driver on a Ford Flex payment.

Its unfair I know, yet driving that Ford today I really missed the Ranger Rover to the extent that I really don't care about the inequity- I want that car back.

Now I'm a Ford Flex driver- and all that means....

Gioconda has six children, objectively she should be driving a car with three rows of seats. So now its just me driving in my big long Ford Flex.

Unfortunately we have a total of 5 cars, two of which aren't driven. Although I hold no ownership interest in one of the cars (Joe's Jeep), I am co-owner of the other two cars - one of which is not currently operational due to a leaking gas tank...

Tonight I offered to give Gioconda full ownership in those two cars, just to allow me to drive the Ranger Rover until the end of the term of the lease.

She said no.

So- it looks like for the next five years I'll be a Ford Flex driver.

What bothers me about driving the Ford Flex, is that it bothers me so much. I have recently said I was done with expensive cars, they cost too much to maintain and in the end just doesn't seem worth the extra money.

I have now rethought this position.

At the end of the month I am going to be 47, which means by the time I am able to dump the Ford Flex I will be 52- that is I will be 52 driving a Ford Flex.

I have little kids, so every day I do the math- how old will I be when they graduate from high school (63), how old will I be when they turn 13 and begin to really make our lives intolerable (58)... every mile stone has a number attached to it- that number being my age.

I am feeling really old these days, the skin around my eyes look like the before Botox ad that pops up on my e-mail. The other mothers at the My Gym class could easily be my daughters, I am now officially in my late 40's.

Here is the stark reality-now I'm not only old- now I also drive a lame car.

Prize Money

My dad called me last night to tell me that my Grandmother had won a contest and that she had received a check in the mail for $4,456.78 which was to cover the taxes on the 100k prize. She was not to take any action until she called an international number listed on the letter.

"I think I'll just deposit it into her account," he said.

There is actually two issues with this;

#1 -This is a scam. The person you call tells you that you deposit the check and send them the money, in return they will send the remainder of the prize, the problem being is that the check is no good and the scammer gets you to pay $4,456.78. You never collect the winnings because there are no winnings.

#2- My Grandmother has been dead since April of 2009.

Apparently the account my dad had with her prior to her death still has her name on it, so feasibly he could place the check into her account. I can only speculate as to how my dad thought he would obtain her signature to endorse the check, and I didn't ask.

Although I didn't know the exact scam at the time, I knew it was too good to be true and I told him to not try to deposit the check.

I told him not to deposit the check not because I thought it was wrong to collect a prize for a dead person, in fact that didn't even occur to me.

Let me begin by saying I have never in my life outwardly stolen anything, meaning if something didn't get rung up at the register I didn't point out the error, which technically is theft, but what I mean is I have never taken anything with the intent of not paying for it.

I think I can say the same thing about my mom, dad and sister. We aren't shop lifters...or grifters-yet I would have no issue with endorsing a check with a dead person's signature- and either did my dad- so what exactly does that make us?

I guess for one it makes us potential forgers.

"Legally I don't think a dead person can collect a prize," I told my father.

"How do you know she didn't win it before she died?", he replied.

Its a decent argument. yet since she has been dead around 19 months, I'm not certain when put to the test it really holds water.

"I guess the prize would then go to her estate," I said, and it was at this point I realized I had been sucked into the insanity. The reality was there was no prize, and if there was this was certainly not the way in which we would be informed.

"I don't think you would have to talk to someone in Indonesia if this was a for real thing," I reasoned.

After a few minutes I got my dad to agree to throw away the check, but it did take a bit of convincing.

Today my sister told me that a payroll service deposited money in her checking account and she has no idea where it came from.

"Don't spend it, they will figure it out sooner or later," I told her.

Or maybe she won a prize....

A Princess Thing

I was talking to a guy the other day who told me he was dating a girl he thought he likes, but she has a really shrill voice.

He explained at first he thought he could negotiate it, however, when they got into a heated discussion her voice became exasperating, and it was at this point he began to doubt his ability to over look it.

Sure its true when you are getting along there are those little things that become exaggerated when your not getting along, yet I got the feeling her voice wasn't just one of those things. For me the things that bug me at the beginning never decrease over time, for me those things only get worse.

In my twenties and early thirties I dated quite a bit, and inevitably I would see something on that first date which told me a second date should not take place, but I would find myself 6 months down the line completely focused on whatever it was on the first date I found only slightly annoying to be the reason I would not be sure I could ever be in her company again.

I also dated girls I had nothing in common, and although some people think opposites attract, the truth is opposites become a pain in the ass within 6 weeks.

One time I dated a girl who was a self described "river rat". She had the look, long over processed permed hair, she always seemed like she needed a good scrubbing, her clothes seemed to be about 1/2 size too small, and she drank Coors Light out of a can.

I have never been, nor do I ever plan to go to "The River".

On the first date she told me she didn't think she really liked attorneys, as she found them to be opportunistic and generally immoral.

I remain unsure why it was I went on the second date in this particular case, but in retrospect I think it may have been I thought she was really funny- but she wasn't trying to be. Although born and raised in Bellflower for some reason she had an accent which made it sound as though she was from Arkansas or Oklahoma, not quite from Texas, but just adjacent.

So she had a Jet Ski that was pink and on the back she had the following:

"Its a Princes Thing"

I still think about it.

It seems to me that riding any water bike is very unprincess like. We dated for the summer, and it wasn't until the very end I told her how I really felt about the statement on the back of her hot pink Jet Ski.

"Its fucking stupid. If you were really a "princess" you wouldn't be riding a Jet Ski ,you would be riding on a yacht. By virtue of you owning a Jet Ski, that isn't on the deck of a boat, you have defined yourself as NOT a princess. That is something you put on a big ass boat, not a flipping Jet Ski," I said.

I know it may sound harsh, but I felt justified based on her comment as to her assessment of lawyers.

Unfortunately, the mediocre first date, turned into a terrible second date. There was a rebound to not horrible on the third date, and for whatever reason a few weeks later I found myself in her condo in Stanton essentially telling her she was a moron.

"Get out of my house," she said suddenly sounding like she was from Bellflower and not Little Rock.

I wanted to be petty and say something like - sure, when you have one and I visit it I will, but I didn't. I left and never looked back.

So a few years later I get a call from her that she needed some legal advice about a family law matter and was I still practicing that area of the law.

Since I never practiced family law, and I still thought she was an idiot, I never returned the call and it it left me feeling as though I got the last word - seven years later.