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Obbligato is finally through the final edit and ready for brit picking and final typo check.
I hope big coms coming down doesn't keep it from being read.

Where I'm calling from

My life is insane but the themes of sex and death, loss, longing, and sudden diamonds strewn across one's path are constants.

Man that was a purple, pretentious line.

A great deal has happened lately.

My mother has round after round of inconclusive tests involving debilitating pain in her side. So far the thought is adhesions from emergency gallbladder surgery 30 years ago. Woo hoo.

Alpha (aka oldest child) has left home. She is 15 but living in dorms at an academically focused boarding school and already at work preparing to represent her school in a mathematic competition in Singapore in the spring. This has been the hardest on her father and brother. They are both wandering around vaguely bereft half the time. Whenever I start to miss her I remeber that she is embarking on adulthood and having the time of her life and I feel incredibly happy for her.

I am being made an administrator at work (I work in a liquor store attached to a convenience store- they are separated for arcane legal reasons), which will require me spending part of each week in the office, which I don't look forward to. I actively despise office work. It's not my thing. I would much rather see a customer come in planning a little party and make sure they walk out with hundreds of dollars worth of booze. That is my thing, selling. I am good at it. Rows or columns of anything have trouble staying in rows and columns for me. Why why why do they want me admining?????? I wish I knew. I really am more of an asset out selling. I promise. Are they listening? A Resounding No.

Sweetpants had a huge scare with his blood pressure and cholesterol. We sat through rounds of stress tests and peering into the human heart (in an utterly unpoetic way) to find that we caught it before it got very bad and with the right changes Sweetpants, unlike the rest of the men in his family, can avoid not only his first heart attack but also all the ones after that.

Death hit us like crazy.Two of my grandmother's first cousins, both her age (early 90s) both with the same sort of dementia at the roughly the same stage as her disease, died on the same day two weeks ago. It was rough. I helped out both sets of cousins all I could. One were the other set of Jewish-Comanches (bizarre that I am not the only one- I know) and I sat up with them and occuppied the mom, my aunty, before the cousins flew in. The other funeral I cooked and served food for. Of course all this happened mere days before Alpha left home.

This is one of the reasons I have to be an atheist. Otherwise I would have no alternative but to wave a big middle finger at any deity who visited this crap on me.

Between all this I have been writing and wallowing in self doubt, dealing with plumbing issues and trying not to feel like a total wash at life.

My final question is this, I have been invited to karaoke. Should I go? If so what should I sing?

Nothing they have is what I want to sing, and usually the key is all wrong or I don't like the tempo. Why, yes, I am a brat.

Tales From the Liquor Store

As the world out there beyond my keyboard may, or may not, know I took a job at a liquor store almost exactly a year (okay 13 months) ago. Since it has been one of several factors my lack of posting I thought I would fill you in a bit.

A break down of my day goes something like this;
I arrive at the shop around 8:30 a.m. Oklahoma liquor laws require that no liquor store be open before 10 a.m. or after 9 p.m. but there is plenty to do before 10. I restock the pints and half pints behind the counter as well as the travelers (plastic 750ml bottles of popular liquors at the counter). I sweep and mop the half of the store containing distilled products aka liquors and then sweep and swiffer the other half of the the store where the wine and beer are kept aka fermented products. I wipe down the 20 foot long counter. I clean all the windows and when the truck comes every morning with anytwhere from 100 to 300 cases of product, I take inventory. Then I get to put the bottles on the shelf. Woohooo!

If I bust my ass and the truck driver arrives in a timely fashion I can get all this done before the doors open at 10. Either way I am invariably dripping with sweat by the time I fumble the key in the lock and throw wide the door.

Every morning there are people lined up waiting for me. Usually they are the same people every day. Some of them will be in several times through out the course of any given day.

There is the 60something year old woman, a crew leader at a local 24 hour burger joint, who is filling liquor requests for her entire work crew. One scraggily old shell of a guy, I had originally thought to be 70ish but turned out to have gone to school with my husband who flirts with me in a completely gross way and responds to rebuffs with sad kicked puppy eyes. There is also a 6'6 ex-con (manslaughter) who buys a pint of gin a day and refers to me as his "next ex-wife". I respond by rolling my eyes. An extremely friendly and pleasant banker lady who buys a bottle of Irish Cream every day during her lunch hour and about two dozen assorted daily vodka drinkers. Half the new car salesmen in town stop by to buy a bottle in the morning. Honestly, I was and was not surprised by the number of people who start the day with a bottle of 100 proof.

One of my favorites is a young engineer recently out of the Army Corps of Engineers, he buys a single beer every morning, saying it is the nutritional equivalent of a cinnamon roll, and showing me whatever he has built lately. The other day he wheeled in a huge portable six foot tall telescope he had made himself. The time before that it was a hand held mini-lazer, not the best idea in a store full of liquor bottles.

Another is an army officer who is always looking for new and interesting beers. Since we have a HUGE selection of imports and microbrews I can usually find something to interest him. Recently he was surprised by how much he enjoyed a lavender honey specialty beer from Sam Adams. Score one for me. He used to make me uncomfortable, despite his friendliness, and I could not figure out why until I realized between his looks and his bearing he is a dead ringer for Ralph Fiennes in Schindler's List. Since I realized why he made me nervous, he hasn't any more. Since he is very pleasant and a regular customer I am glad not to be afraid he is going to shoot me any more.

Those are a few of the regulars but it is interesting to note how much better behaved people tend to be in the liquor store than the rest of the retail world. The other half of the equation is the staff. Never a dull moment there.

One of both the perks, and drawbacks, to working at the liquor store is that the owners, who are either in the store or next door in the office, 80% of the time, have known me since I was 12. Their daughter and I are the same age and have been buddies since junior high. We had birthdays together, for heaven's sake. Their grand children come play with my dogs. I KNOW them well. On one hand Mr. M, the owner, still secretly thinks I am 12 sometimes. It was only when I started working alone on very slow days, that a two way radio was installed between the liquor store and the office.

Mr. Brooks, the manager, who has also known me since I was 12 (yes, he has worked to them for that long) jokes that that's because they loooooooooooove me, and don't care what happens to anyone else.

On the other hand they know me, and support me in a big way, although Mrs. M really believes I ought to be writing about my famous ancestors, though with all the bad books coming out about them lately I am beginning to think she may be right.

There is, of course, a great deal more to say about the liquor store, but I will say that in another post, on another day. This is enough for now, since I am starting to feel like Basil Exposition.

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday Maybe Amanda!

If it weren't for you I would never have written past my first two pieces of fanfic.
While I have been at work this week, working, selling liquor to anyone with an ID, my husband and children were having not a snow day but a snow week.

As a result my husband is now obsessed with Battlestar Gallactica.
My two youngest children are similarly sucked in by Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Where did I go wrong?

~shakes tiny fist at Netflix Instant watch~
I am the most boring person in the world, but I am writing fanfic. That is all.
Youngest child has been sick since Monday night and just keeps getting worse. The point has been reached where she flat out needs to go to the hospital, even though it means 4 or 5 hours in the Indian Hospital waiting room.