Dissertation

I am currently in Le Reg, attempting to work on the dissertation that has come to a screeching halt.

Between my students, my preceptees, my family issues, and my depression I have effectively stopped all meaningful work.

So now I'm trying to start again. What was it I told my students? I have a thousand ideas for them to stay motivated. I guess it's time I started taking my own advice.

And talking to my committee

And I need to stop procrastinating by blogging now.

SO they moved.

I can write this in complete certianty that my mother has no access to a computer and wouldn't know how to find my blog even if she did.


They moved - 2 weekends ago. Halloween.

Out of the family house and into some fucking 55 and older retirement community in Racine. Seriously, everyone there is 70+

In RACINE, the armpit of Wisconsin. Of course, they couldn't move elsewhere because my grandma lives there (in the same building, of course) and my dad still has his job.

I get the feeling that my parents are actually, secretly 80 years old and only pretending to be younger for show. Fuck that - they are actually 55 and act like they're 90+ and at death's door.

This is really my mother's doing. With the OCD with the Agoraphobia, with the sheltered, tiny, ever-contracting life she leads - it's no wonder that they have decided at 55 that the house is just too much for them and that they would be much happier in a less vibrant area with no lawn to mow or house to worry about. With old people having happy hour in the TV room at 4pm and a heated parking garage - the door of which a woman with dementia drove through last year because she just "didn't see it there".

They sold the piano. They sold the dining room set. They sold the dressers. They gave away hundreds of other things. They sent to my sister's house everything nice because "Katie still has her life up in the air, so we can't sent them to her - maybe when she gets a house". So they would really rather give away or sell the nice things than send them to me.

And they really didn't want Molly and me involved. I've never even seen the place. Don't know where their apartment is, don't know what it looks like, don't even really know what they brought.

Didn't help them move, didn't help them pack (they didn't want us to). Don't know where Thanksgiving will be this year.

They didn't even call.

I don't care that they left the house - I hated that house. But they didn't just leave the house, they left my sister and I behind.

Supposedly this move is going to give them more free time on the weekends to come visit us - yeah.

So yesterday was... odd.

This weekend was blessedly quiet, peaceful, full of bubble baths and good food (as well as studying and cleaning of apartment). For those of you who were worried about my mental state, it has at least temporarily readjusted to sane.

I also would like to indicate that hot bubble baths are THE cure for stress. Really. I recommend flipping through bridal magazines while you soak.

Ahhh.

And then there was yesterday.

Morning - got up late and darted to where my car was parked in hopes of avoiding a ticket from the street cleaning meter maids of death - failed. $50. Ouch. I will, however, survive.

Afternoon - took off for Peets coffee and tea on North st. and was actually productive - read Plato's Republic and attempted to check email. Saw a polaroid of the "Peet's customer of the week" who apparently best "exemplifies the Peets Spirit". Spent an appalling amount of time contemplating what the "Peet's Sprit" would be, judging from the clientele and decoration it would be Fraiser with a caffeine addiction and need to sit on unreasonably high chairs.

Then I went for some retail therapy at Target.

I get a call from Al - she's down in the loop and wants me to come see the Midnight Circus production.

So I drive to the loop - attempting to find a spot, and forgetting that I am actually an hour early I hastily park my car and run to Daley plaza.

Along the way I am accosted by 4 large men who yell after me (I swear) "Junk in the TRUNK! Look at that ass! Baby get over here!" Flashing them a smile, I scampered over to the plaza to find that I had arrived and hour early.

This hour was spent wandering around lot 37 in the middle of the city, chatting with circus folk, a pit bull named Lola who only knows commands in German and a couple of men dressed as: dead bellboy, muppet, lion tamer, and I can only suppose er... lycra boy? The really unusual thing here is that they weren't dressed up this way because of Halloween, but rather – just dressed for work.

The show was rained out, so I hung out in the trailer for awhile then Al and I took off to pick up my boy at work, who indicated that he really really wanted to celebrate his internship being 1/3 over.

Off to Uncle Hulios Hacienda where we consumed vast quantities of meat, liqour, and were waited on by a man in spandex sporting a JF on his chest, a yarmulka, and a hair pick - yes, he was Jew Fro. After the liqour and flan this all started to make more sense.

And then, upon parking my car back on Winthrop, a very short Hispanic man accosts my boyfriend (with Al and I in tow)

“Hey man”
“Yes?”
“I feel a little silly asking about this, but I’m looking for…” he whispers something in my Boy’s ear very earnestly.
“Sorry man, can’t help you. Katie, let’s go”

Al and I question him later – what did he want?
“Oh, sex. He said he needed a date, a date, you know sex, sex, man.”

Ah.

Apparently he thought that Eric was clearly a pimp for Al (dressed in a flannel zip coat and jeans) and myself (in a sweater and jeans balancing a large orange Rubbermaid container on top of my head). Clearly we are the most undercover whores around.

Yeah – it was a day.