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When it rains, it pours

June 2, 2005

And I’m up to my neck in flood waters.

Someone please tell me the light at the end of the tunnel is coming, and that it’s not a train! I keep looking for the rainbow, the silver lining, but it’s coming down so hard, my wipers don’t work fast enough, and one of them is torn to boot. I just don’t see it yet, and my faith is running out.

This has been one of the worst weeks of my life, by far. The renters still have not paid…so I have to issue them notice to pay or quit tomorrow. Which is fine, but don’t have the energy to deal with it all. And once they are out, I’m selling the damn thing. I’m convinced that it’s just a bad omen and I need to sever the ties.

Except for the fact that because they have not paid, I am way behind on my mortgage. That’s not what gets me. I can deal with that stress. What’s bad is that they still call my ex, because they have him listed as the primary. So he, in turn, calls me in a huff, demanding to know what’s going on. He acts as though I am doing this on purpose to spite him after what he did to me. Sure, if his name was the only one listed then yeah, I could see why he would believe that. But mine’s on there too, and this is just as much a problem for me as it is for him.

The glass guys came to fix my window yesterday, and as I left for lunch, one of the guys I work with heard how bad my brakes sounded. So he took the liberty of jacking up my car to take a look while I was working. When I went to leave yesterday, my tire is off, and he’s holding the brake shoe, which is worn to nothing, and says, “you’re not driving this thing home, kid.” He gave me a ride home, and got me another ride this morning, but I was upset that this was yet another thing that demanded my attention now. So he called his mechanic, and I was lucky enough to get them fixed for $40, and drove home today with good brakes and a new window. Tomorrow I get my new stereo, and I’ll be all set.

All this stress has me sick again, and I just can’t deal with any more. I came home last night and took a shower, then fell asleep for a quick nap, only to wake up this morning in time for work. My mom tells me that this will make me stronger, if I can make it through, but right now, I’m so tough, I feel hardened, like I won’t ever trust anyone not to hurt me in any way, whether it be a man breaking my heart, a person stealing my belongings, or just plain getting screwed. My ex was hardened like that and I hated it, I don’t want to become that kind of person.

I did have one thing that lifted my spirits. The other day, I heard from an old high school friend. I haven’t talked to him in years. I almost deleted his mail as spam because I didn’t recognize it, as he went by a nickname in school. Just talking to him again brought back fond memories, but mostly the meal that made us friends.

We were on an all star music trip (yes, I was a band geek, he a choir nerd), and customary of such events, a restaurant provides a meal for the group, usually upwards of 20 or 30 people, and how it usually works is you get a choice of entree, side, drink and dessert. That night’s dinner was mexican, and as he finished up, he mentions that he wonders if we could order fried ice cream for dessert. I was 16, I had spent my entire life in Arizona (and 2 years in New Mexico), I had eaten at plenty of mexican restaurants and I had never heard of such a thing. Honestly, I thought it impossible, and I laughed and said “FRIED ice cream? You can’t fry ice cream, it would melt!” Now normally, I am quite the gullible person, but the concept of fried ice cream I was not buying a bit.

He explained to me how it is made, rolled in a cinnamon sugar and cornflake crumb mixture, then fried for a brief moment, which crystallizes the sugar and forms a shell around the ice cream. Then they re-freeze it to get the ice cream to set again. Again I was like, “yeah right.” This discussion continued as we finished our meals, and as I returned from the bathroom, he asked the waitress if they had any. She said that they were all out, and the ones they had were still setting. I decided that she was in on it and accused everyone of getting her in on the joke while I was in the bathroom. They all swore to the contrary, but I didn’t believe a single one of them.

Well–later that summer, I had my first taste of fried ice cream at my best friend’s 16th birthday dinner. It was sooooo good.

A few years later, our group decided to crash in on the homecoming dance the year after we graduated. We decked out to the nines and went and had dinner at our favorite local mexican joint. As we finished dinner, he made sure to order up a dish of fried ice cream for us to share. We ended up getting barred from the restaurant for complaining about the poor service, and the dance, of course, sucked, but fried ice cream still remains the best tasting time I’ve ever been proven wrong.


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