Thursday, December 29, 2011

Good riddance, 2011!

Honestly?  2011 can go fuck itself.

And just incase you were wondering:  No, this is not going to be one of those wistful "It's been a hard year, but I'm thankful, anyway" post.  In fact, if I could turn the clock back to December 31, 2010, I'd be fine with moving into January 1, 2012, thankyouverymuch.  2011, to borrow a phrase from the almighty dooce, sucked sweaty goat balls.

Which was one reason why I stopped updating this blog.  Every single post would have sounded like an  exercise in whining--or rather, a step in training for the whining olympics.  Who knows, I could have been a valedictorian in whining.  There goes another missed chance at greatness ...

Would you really like to know how much I'd like to show this year the finger?  Fine, here are the stats:

  • Three miscarriages (four since October 12, 2010).

  • Passed over for a promotion because I lived on the wrong (=West) Coast.

  • Dealt with sh*t from Space Cadet Central and my former boss's promise to ruin my professional future.

  • Lost 4 cats to various diseases, with currently zero animals in the household.

  • A 2,195 mile move from Podunk, CA, to Pretentious Biblebeltia, Indiana.

  • A 70% paycut, in which I traded a job as a Systems Engineer in aerospace for a part-time rainmaker position at a so-so 4-year college, which happens to be the only game in town.  Under a 10-month contract.

  • A job in an institution in which I am known as "TBIK's wife" and as a second-class citizen because "oh God, you have only an Ay Bee Dee"?

  • Everything here is at last 50% more expensive than in California (except for processed crap food and gas).

  • Did I mention the processed crap Little Miss Kickboxer's preschool feeds her?  Corndogs, "little smokies," commercial "blueberry" muffins?  Of course, this exceeds Indiana nutritional standards.  Which doesn't mean much considering that here, people really believe ketchup is a vegetable.

  • When people praised the schools in this area, they forgot to add "in Indiana."  No, you don't want to know.

  • A friend from my teenage days died of brain cancer.  He was only 8 years my senior.

  • People in the midwest:  False friends.  Also file under:  Mediocrity, greed, judgmentalism, utilitarianism, conservatism, not trustworthy

Sorry, the last one was qualitative, rather than quantitative, but I trust you get the point.

The big exciting thing, though:  The Money Pitnew 100-year-old house is coming together as everything I've ever dreamed of.  The fireplace is in; the two "sexy" chairs are in front of the big window; the drapes drape; the wooden floors creak; the rusty-orange/ adobe-colored kitchen walls invite you to sit down and hang out.  The new bedroom furniture is fabulous, including the headboard, for which I used a 20%  off coupon at Pier 1.  The music corner sports a real upright piano, which we rescued from withering away in the music department's basement.  This house--I want to load it on one of those big trailers and ship it back to California.  The house and our local Aldi and the Y.

So yeah, I miss California.  Not necessarily the Podunk part, but heck, the friendliness, the openness, the political (and politicizeable) climate, the intellectual awareness, the upbeat outreach attitude especially in a church context (rather than doctrinal quabbles and Old-Testament brimstone that don't help feed anyone), and did I mention the health consciousness?  So yeah, I have managed to find flaxseed meal and some organic fruits and vegetables here, too, and I spend far too much time on Facebook, but seriously, none of that makes up for California.  None of that makes up for the fact that, in the past three months, it's taken superhuman effort to get up in the mornings and through the day without erupting into tears because Walmart was again out of Little Miss Kickboxer's nitrate-free hotdogs?

No, I'm obviously not pregnant (duh!).  See above.

So, 2011, go to hell.  Unless you're a midwesterner, at which point I fully expect you to scan me top to toe, roll your eyes, and exclaim, "Well, at least nobody died or got sick or got another Ay Bee Dee.  And you still owe me $200  in cash, not check."  And at which point I'd probably wish you to ... oh, I don't know ... Indiana?