amy 0, ken 1

there is a big yellow machine right outside my office window. i am told that this machine will scoop up dirt and put it in a pile and keep doing that until we have a gigantic, massive hole, and then sometime in the near future, this big yellow machine will take all that dirt and put it somewhere else. i’m hoping far away from here. we’re doing a renovation. adding a dining room. and then a space here. a space there. i’m thinking a few throw pillows and a TV. ken is thinking shag rug and bongos.

look, this is the deal. ken is retired. he’s turning 70 (holy shit!) in january. i’m 55, i’m a few years behind. my dreams are less dramatic. they don’t involve dirt & holes and backhoes. they involve frequent flier miles & caffeine. and wine. lots of wine.

the night before we were to start the ‘excavation’ ken got drunk. not rip roaring vomit on the floor and walls drunk, but enough for me to do a full blown nut-dance, with hand gestures and all. the mere fact that he was incapable of driving home, and slurred a few odd sentences didn’t help his cause. his wobbling and giddy goofy laughter made me nuts, and got my back up to neck-brace capacity. words were exchanged, loud angry bitter words. the kind of words that leave your mouth while you hope – HOPE – you’ll be able to catch them before they land and hurt badly. those kind of words. the ones that we say when we need to make a point, be in control, feel we’re losing control, want to be paid attention, to be heard and seen and taken seriously. the words that cut through like a knife. words that cause sadness and regret and the prayer of second chances.

i was vicious. i can be. i can, i am my mother’s daughter.
my mother was vicious, mean, and callous, and oh so thoughtless in both her words & actions.

mean. cold. vicious. god help me.

i went to bed angry. i had never done that.
i woke up sad and miserable and my soul hurt. it did. right to the core. i could feel it.

it’s just i’m just so frickin’ afraid of letting things be. trusting. letting go. sitting back. waiting. i’m the kind of person who not only waits for the other shoe to drop, i’m pretty convinced the entire foot is gonna come right off with it.

i’m not 100% sure what it means to follow my bliss, but i can tell you right now i do not like following the trail of anger.

my mother knew how to accessorize her anger.
i prefer to dress this one down.

Category: Uncategorized 4 comments »

4 Responses to “amy 0, ken 1”

  1. Madge Woods

    Amy, I so understand what you are feeling. As you know we have some similarities in our lives. I know you will find a way to have peace about this. In the meanwhile dream about your frequent flyer miles and wine and what really this is about. Some throw back from something. Love your humor and your ability to express your feelings. This too shall pass.

  2. kristine van raden

    do you own a sledge hammer? I suggest that you ask the contractor which wall exactly is coming down…Have a couple cups of coffee first, you want to be wide awake. then is complete privacy start wailing the hell out of that wall with he sledge hammer. Such an amazing vent for frustration…a good upper body work out and you will feel that you contributed to the success of the project. It is that out of control things that is hard to bare. Take control of the sledge hammer and let ‘er rip.

    sorry for the nasty fight…those are usually more than a day or two debilitating. breath, breath, breath.

  3. Kathleen

    Ken was here. Ken saw our renovation. Ken started to mumble so I am not surprised Ken had a few drinks the night before construction. On this Old land maybe you will find some ancient ruin buried below the rocks.
    You are welcome here anytime.
    You guys will do great, I did not hear any screaming from across the lake,ha.
    It will be an experience that will take longer than they say and will cost more than they say.
    You will have a beautiful dining room to sit and drink wine in with friends and you will laugh about it all when the construction is done,
    but only when it is done xo

  4. Donald. Sanders

    What the hell is wrong with you? I love dirt. I like to play in it-roll in it-stick my hands in it-rub it in my hair and face-after you add a little water of course. I absolutely love it. I hate when people dump their crappy garbage and chemicals in it and I think that people that do this dumping should have the same thing done to themselves. Dirt is a gift from God, it feeds us, if you don’t have water you can wash your dishes with it. You can cover yourself so the Viet Cong don’t see you and you can place your loved ones in it after they die and they will become dirt too. I love dirt and I think it loves me to-however i don’t want to have sex with it- I don’t love it that much.

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