Gladys Kravitz: PeyPey Style

I don't exactly live in the best neighborhood in town. I blame this fact on the reason I've become somewhat of a Gladys Kravitz. Because, let's face it, watching BMW's and minivans and moms with strollers walking up the street doesn't exacly catch anyone's attention. (The 30 bags of garbage sitting on my neighbors lawn? Yes. What could possibly be in all those bags?)

So as I'm sitting here in my Sudafed induced coma, (or is it a morning talk show induced coma? I'm not quite sure. My deciphering skills went out the window along with good health, I think) I hear a bit of beat-boxing just as an all white, Fubu tracksuit clad black guy caught my eye, walking down our street, flailing his arms to the beat he was creating with his mouth.

So, naturally I stare. I pull down a little sliver in the blinds. He is totally in his own little world. (My mind immediately turns to the thought, 'Ahh, now I see exactly where my hard earned tax dollars are going: straight to your designer-track-suit-wearing-doesn't-have-a-job-collecting-welfare-check-and-fathering-multiple-children-so-you-can-just-collect-MORE-welfare-checks ASS.) I stare some more. Then suddenly, our eyes meet. (I thought I was being so discreet!) All flailing and beat boxing stops. A serious look clouds his eyes. I immediately let the blinds go and they snap back into place. I go to another corner of the house and inch the blinds down a tad. Ok. Whew! Coast clear. He's walking up the hill again. For a few seconds, no flailing, just seriously walking. Then, at the top of the hill, the arms start to flail again and I can hear the faint sounds of "boom boom snick boom boom snick boom". Back to normal.

I must perfect my Gladys Kravitz ways. (And possibly take Mark up on the offer to buy me that pink marble handled pistol.)

Testing the Waters

IM conversation between Mark and I tonight:

Peyton: just saw dwight advertising the nba on a commercial. hilarious.

Mark: yeah i saw taht

Peyton: dont feel good

Mark: oh i'm sorry

Peyton: would you come take care of me?

Mark: ya

Peyton: like pull the green goopy gop out of my nose?

Mark: ohhhh wooowww

Peyton: but would you?

Mark: no

Peyton: I would do it for you

Mark: oh well

Peyton: really?

Mark: yes really, that is sick

Peyton: what about if i have your baby?

Mark: no

Peyton: that's a pretty gross process

Mark: lol im out for a few

Peyton: no, not pull the goopy gop out of my nose while i'm having your baby, but actually the birth process

Mark: bye

Peyton: no!!!! you come back here mister!

Mark: bye

Peyton: no, i would like to continue this discussion. what if i break a bone? or get cancer? or have to get my pancreas removed?

Mark: what are you asking? I will take care of you but i am not digging boogers out

Peyton: ok, just making sure

I am my father's daughter

I noticed my dad's eyes for the first time yesterday.

For Father's Day, I invited him to go to breakfast with me. Nothing fancy of course; just his regular haunt, Waffle House. (I have grown accustomed to hearing my friends say over the years, "hey, I saw your dad at Waffle House this morning." If I had a nickle...)

My dad is very much a creature of habit. For as long as I can remember, the following things have been constants in my dad's life: coffee, cigarettes, a somber smile, creativity, and silence. I have never known much about who my dad was and is. He's never offered much, and well, I've never really asked...or made the effort to simply listen. But over breakfast, as we shared a pot of what I am pretty sure is the love of my dad's life, I listened. He spoke.

I learned about his early business dealings; what a schmoozer Ricky Baker was! Taking businessmen out to lunch, talking shop, doing deals, buying in, getting his cut of the share, traveling, deals gone awry.

I heard about the hilarious this-could-only-happen-to-Ricky-Baker type scenarios. These stories got my dad (and me) cackling. It was so good to see him laugh.

I heard about his regrets. Hearing him voice his regrets was difficult. I have never thought about his regrets from his side; only the effect they have had on me.

He was transparent with me for the second time in my life. (The only other time was at my college graduation when he gave me a very prolonged, firm hug and whispered in my ear, "I am so proud of you, Peyton." I will remember that forever, I am sure.)

The provisions that my dad has offered his family, me in particular, have not been great. I have been paying my way for quite some time; looking to my older brother for advice and support; finding spiritual guidance in church leaders. God has always provided a multitude of provision in the areas my dad was lacking. But I am beginning to see what my dad has provided for me: bits and pieces of himself.

So much of him is in me: creativity, a little (ok, a lot of) rebellion, sometimes finding it hard to move past regret, his coloring (thank goodness!), his nose...and his eyes.

I noticed my dad's eyes for the first time, sitting across from him at breakfast. They are brown, yes, just like mine. But there is a small sliver of gray-blue that encircles the brown. Something I have never, ever noticed before. I never looked; never paid attention long enough to discover a detail like that.

As I was kissing Mark goodbye last night, after having told him about breakfast with my dad and noticing his eyes, Mark looked me straight in the eyes and said, "Peyton, you have that thin grayish blue circle too!"

I am my father's daughter.

TKO That Bitch (Ha!)

It feels like Monday but it's Tuesday. I kind of hate and love that at the same time.

So, the weekend was just okay. Mark and I went to Outback for Sunday lunch where he ordered a steak and potato and PeyPey ordered a sweet potato (no butter) and steamed veggies. Hello! Look who's being disciplined! Mark and I are having a hard time getting in synch with this whole diet thing. It's hard to hold each other accountable without hurting each others feelings. It's like the things you hate most about yourself (for me it's my weight and all this extra padding) are being realized and called out by the person you're trying to look and be the best for! But we made an honest commitment to each other to just get over the hurt feelings and be brutal when it comes to the diet issue. So we're working on it.

There were, of course, a few times over the weekend where I COMPLETELY dropped the ball. (Like our Friday night dinner at Provino's in Auburn. i.e. Lots and lots of pasta, wine, and bread.) There was also a margarita involved somewhere in there; I can't quite remember when. (That's a lie. I remember EXACTLY when and where the margarita went down, and EXACTLY how many chips I consumed at that fine Columbus establishment. I just don't feel like being that honest with my readers.)

So there definitely could have been better choices made a few times. One day at a time, right?
Today. Just today, I can make better choices. No need to worry about what my choices will be tomorrow or a month from now. Just today. That's do-able, right?

I had the usual breakfast. Raisin Bran, skim, coffee. Lunch was filling. Made some chicken salad yesterday out of some grilled chicken breasts I had left over. It was made with Miracle Whip (Equals a better choice. I'm trying to distinguish between bad and good choices.)

American Idol is coming up again tonight at Jeannie & Tyler's. That means I'm going into the ring again with Mr. Rotel. I TKO'd that bitch last time and I plan to do it again tonight. I'll let you know how it turns out.