Question: What do I hate to find when I go to the bathroom at my job?
Answer: Butt crumbs floating in the toilet.
Question: What’s the stupidest built airport in all the land?
Answer: San Freaking Francisco International Airport. Who the f thought it’d be a good idea to put the international terminal on two levels with the gates on the bottom and all the restaurants, stores, and REST-freaking-ROOMS on the upper? How dumb is that? P.S. The genius designer also separated each gate on the lower level so let’s say your gate changes, probably last minute… You get to request a wheelchair for your grandmother who hasn’t stopped complaining, meddling, just being general irksome for the entire trip, wait for the wheelchair, hustle your carry-ons, her with the accompanying wheelchair pusher, back up the elevator and down the hall, all of 30 feet, to make your flight. Because when you landed your connecting flight wasn’t on the monitor, yet it was conveniently on the digital display above the wrong gate. Not that this happened. I’m just saying.
Question: Why am I feeling so mean???
Answer: Because I caught the stupid cold that my marvelous co-workers have been passing around the department the weekend before I left for Japan…and had to work from 11am until 9pm, drive an hour home, finish packing/putting together my budget/cleaning up after the grown people that were in my house all day yet left pizza and trash out on the table and kitchen island/make sure I had everything, and get 2.3 hours of sleep before getting up at 2 am to get to the airport by 4am for my 6am flight.
Rest Easy Alert
I’m done with my whining now. I hate when I feel crabby but this awful chest cold has knocked a sista out. I’m usually a trooper but I swear it’s been one thing after another these days. Ready for the deep thought stuff?
I Love Her, I Do
Now don’t get me wrong. I love my Grandmother. Very much. This is the woman that gave life to my mother, who survived losing her first husband in a shooting incident not widely discussed in my family, who took care of four kids on her own before wooing and wedding my Grandpa, who helped me understand just why my mother was so hurt when my father left her for another woman who was supposedly my mother’s friend, who has cried and prayed for her children and grandchildren. She’s a good woman. And I love those qualities about her. But. Ah, yes, the but. But, there are some qualities that I equally loathe. And I mean, LOATHE. Let me also say: I know we are all flawed human beings. I have a wicked sense of humor but I can get downright pissy if you’ve upset me; I don’t always treat Fiance as well as he deserves and I have to remind myself on a daily basis to be kind and patient. So, I’m not passing judgement on her. I’m just being honest when I say that sometimes, as much as I love my Grandomther, I don’t always like her.
She is perhaps one of the most mean-spirited women I know. She is hypercritical of my Grandpa, yet exhibits worse symptoms of the disease I suspect they may both have. She cannot remember details of a conversation we have from three minutes to the next yet she harps on him when he forgets to take his medication. Granted, it’s a lot to have stayed married to a man that is a good man yet wasn’t always honest, is not financially responsible despite being alive for 84 years and has taken such poor care of his body that his health is not even close to ideal for a man of his age. That’s taxing, yes, but how about a little self-evaluation?
Speaking of self-evaluation, one of the biggest problems I have is how mean to me she is sometimes. (Huh, all about me). Once, in college, while wearing one of my favorite dresses, she told me that if she didn’t know me, she’d think I was one of the girls coming out of the house next door. The house next door? It used to be a crack-house. So indirectly, my grandmother called me a crack ho. (And the dress wasn’t that short; honest) Funny sounding now but so hurtful then. More recently we were all in the car driving (Grandmother, Grandpa, Fiance and me) and as I was flipping through radio stations I commented on why I didn’t like a certain gospel show host. Fiance understood: the guy is just not a good radio personality, regardless of the format, and he gives a lot of opinion but little spiritual substance. When I said how his show annoyed me, she asked “Why, because he’s telling the truth?”
Do you know how disgusted I was?? It may seem small, especially as I read it while typing it, but then I was so offended. (Actually, I’m still pretty offended). How dare you insult my faith by insinuating that I don’t like people of God who speak the truth after I just took care of you this entire weekend, took you to my church, introduced you to my people, took you out to dinner, am getting ready to take you to a hospital 45 miles away and you, yourself, are the one of the most hypocritical people I know????
When I was in college, I made my decisions, some not the wisest. And while I fault no one, because in the end they were my decisions, I know very clearly that she was one of the biggest influences for why I did not call myself a Christian until my own relationship with Him developed. Why would I want to be known as the same type of person who said she never knew her granddaughter was coming to live with her, that no one had consulted her (not true) and one day I just showed up with all my things? Why be identified with someone who has beaten down the man she’s been married to for 40-plus years so that he barely listens to anyone because he’s so accustomed to tuning out her endless tirades? Why choose to be like someone who is mean and selfish and critical of others?
Sigh. And if I’m really honest, which I am with myself at all costs, how painful is it to know that unfortunately, I am? Perhaps this is why I don’t like her all the time: because in her I see my worst faults, the ones I pray over each day and request more of Him so I can be less like this.
Deep enoughfor you?