Tag Archives: family

A Day in the Life

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I’ve now been back home for a month. I’m very happy to be here but it’s such a huge change from how I’ve been living my life for the past nine years. Everything’s much slower. The weather’s been crazy. The hurricane came through. There’s leaves everywhere. I’ve been colder the past 2 weeks than I’ve been in the past 5 years. I’m still looking for a job (eek!) but more on that later. I’m so used to it taking me forever to get anywhere, I’m showing up a good 30 minutes early to everything from job interviews, to dinner with friends, to choir practice. I end up sitting in my car, playing on my phone and singing with the radio while I wait for an appropriate time to arrive. I might get some weird looks, but they remember me, that’s for sure. Trust me. 5-10 miles in Roanoke is wayyyy different than 5-10 miles in L.A.

(I’d work hard for the money. If I had a job for some money. I’d work hard for the money la-la-la-blah-blah-right.)

Anyway, here’s how I’m rolling these days…

Accomplishment: Impossible

I always thought if I had a lot of spare time, I could accomplish so many things. I figured my house would be constantly spotless. Now, the house is clean but it takes so much more effort to heave my bulk off the couch to do chores than it did when I was busy. I partially blame it on the reclining sofa. How did I ever sit on a couch without reclining before now? I thought I’d write 50 hilarious blogs. But it turns out writing blogs really cuts into the time I need to spend checking the mail and proving the Internet wrong by showing that 15 shots of vodka in a day won’t really put me in a coma. And I see celebrities always working out and having fine bodies and stuff. Well of course, it’s easy for them. They don’t have to work 9-10 hours a day, 5 days a week. If I didn’t have to go to work, I could exercise all day, too. Jerks. Not appreciating the plight of the working man. The truth is though, it hasn’t exactly “worked out” that way. Hahahaha, I made a pun. I’ve been home 33 days and the most exercise I’ve gotten is taking the trash to the bottom of the hill once a week (which requires a post-hill nap. It’s like a tenth of a mile both ways put together) and wandering around the Biltmore with my Dad and Janet that one day.

(George Vanderbilt. Victorian hotness.)

Job Search

I honestly thought I’d have a job by now. It’s taking forever. There aren’t that many opportunities. If I can email 2 resumes in one day, I’m doing fantastic. A lot of days there’s nothing. That sucks. Don’t these companies realize how their businesses are suffering without me to share my highly capable administrative support served with a side of unceasing, smart ass wit? Who the hell is going to decorate their offices with amazing Christa-mas crap if they don’t hire me already?! I’ve had several interviews and second interviews but nobody seems in a hurry to hire. “I really like you. Let’s talk again next week.” Okay…next week comes and then it’s “I still really like you. Can we reschedule?” or “The hurricane stole my power.” or “I can’t find my lunch. Can we do this on Monday?” Grrrrr! If I find your lunch for you, can I please get a damn paycheck?

(Your skills are incredible! How’s $9 an hour to start?)

I have a strong feeling the electric company and porn4ever.com is not going to let me “reschedule” my paying their bills. Someone needs to give me a job. I promise I won’t even check my Facebook at work for the first week. (That’s 5 business days. Not 7.)

CW + TV = BFF

We all know that tv and I have a special relationship. But during my downtime since the move, tv and I have become closer than ever. TV is teaching me so much. I’ve learned I’m surprisingly good at pricing games on The Price is Right. I know all the prices for the regular stuff like groceries and housewares but no idea how much a new car, boat or RV costs. I always knew that redcoats were assholes but I had no idea how truly stupid they were until watching Daniel Boone. Little Joe on Bonanza has a left shoulder made of steel. He’s been shot there like a million times but always recovers by the end of the hour. Also, a woman should never fall in love with a Cartwright, or as I prefer to call them Cartwheels. It’s a death sentence. Any woman who falls in love with a Cartwheel will die. I’ve learned that Giada can’t pronounce words like “spaghetti” or “ricotta” without an asinine accent. You’re American, girl! Knock it off before I smack the “sheet” out of you. Zach Baggins from Ghost Hunters is living for the day he finally gets some ghost sex. I guess because no live woman would ever touch him. And I think the Dr. Quinn show should’ve been called “Dr. Quinn: Busybody Woman”. I swear, I ‘ve never seen anyone stick their nose in literally everyone’s business like she does.

(At least the show had lots of hot, sexy, muscly, rugged, manly, fine, strong, smoldering…wait, what was I talking about again?)

Law & Order, in some version or another, is on for at least 29 hours a day. As is Big Bang Theory, 2 ½ Men, South Park, Family Guy, Snapped and Cops. I find myself quite drawn to the crime shows. I don’t know why. I just like trying to figure out the story. Mom thinks I’m watching too much violence and murder. Buttons says I’m not watching enough. Who’s right?

Pros and Cons

All in all, I’m so happy to be living at home. I can see my sister and my friends whenever I want! But I don’t get to see my Cali friends. I like sitting on my ass. But I miss my paycheck. The leaves are gorgeous and the weather is amazing. But I haven’t had any Mexican food since I left L.A. I don’t have any traffic. Obama is president. And there’s no con to that one! The holidays are coming and I get to spend them at home with my family for the first time in nearly a decade. That is so freaking awesome, I can’t even describe it. Plus, my pets are with me, I got to see my Dad and Janet again and attend the infamous Caudle Halloween Party. I’m feeling super blessed. My world is not perfect but I’m thankful for all of it just as it is.

(Pictured: Perfect World)

But with the holidays on the way, I feel more writing coming on. Especially since I’ve been volunteered by my mother to accompany my sister for Black Friday shopping. Ack!

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Sister Act

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So we all know that after Buttons, Scuppy, vodka, Homer Simpson, my Kindle Fire, tacos and my lucky polk-a-dot underwear, my very bestest friend in the world is my sister, Melanie. To be honest, when she came along, I was not exactly sure she would be a good fit for our family. She was small, loud, hairless, toothless and arrived home with no decent toys to share whatsoever. So I tested her mettle by trying to give her to neighbors, locking her naked in the bathroom, strangling her with my truth lasso (this was during my Wonder Woman period) and feeding her quarters. Surprisingly for an infant, she took it all in stride and I decided we could keep her. My parents were grateful for my benevolence.

Melanie is 2 years, 7 months, 27 days, 5 hours and 15 minutes younger than me…approximately. But if you did not have this guesstimation, you would think were twins. Probably because she looks old and I look young (so I tell myself) but mostly because we are so close in our hearts. When we were younger (like last year), I called her Smelanie and she called me Cracker.

(You can’t handle the cute!)

Childhood

Being a big sister is a big responsibility. I had to work very hard to teach Melanie about the world when we were kids. Before puberty took over, Melanie was way easier to handle. She reacted well to threats and guilt. An example of a typical conversation while playing at a friend’s house.

Me:                 Melanie, run home and get the ball so we can play.

Melanie:        Why do I always have to get the ball?

Me:                 Because. Now go get it. I’ll let you play this time. I promise.

Melanie:        But I don’t want to go get the ball.

Me:                 Fine, then. Be selfish. Now nobody gets to play ball because you’re lazy. Thanks a lot.

Melanie:        Ok. I’m sorry. I’m going.

This kind of logic always worked. Even when I had a $5 bill and she had five $1 bills and I explained to her it wouldn’t be fair unless she gave me two of her dollars. Then we’d both have 3 bills and we’d both be happy…my mother made me give her the $2 back. It’s obvious that my mother did not have a little sister and thus did not understand the lesson I was teaching Melanie as her big sister. Pffftttt…whatever.

(You’ll never learn to escape the box if you never get in the box.)

I also spent one afternoon braiding every hair on her head into tiny little Bo Derek braids and putting a bunch of rubber bands around them. It took my grandmother hours to get them out. When we wanted to play electrician, I would screw the faceplates off the outlets and then let her dig in the hole after it was off. I somehow managed to convince her that Angela Lansbury on “Murder She Wrote” was a killer and she was always scared to go to bed after it was on. When we played “Dukes of Hazzard” she always had to be Cooter, even if it was just the two of us playing. Ok, I’ll admit. I actually laughed out loud when I typed that. Man, that was funny! But in all seriousness, the fact that Melanie lived to adulthood is proof that God really does perform miracles.

Adolescence/Teenage Years

This period of time, also known as the War of the Woomers or the War of Totally Tubular Proportions (circa 1986-1992), was really tough on my parents. We fought over everything! Clothes, accessories, shoes, makeup, food, friends, pets, tv, music, electricity, politics, religion, who could breathe, who could grow, which one of us was really adopted…it was endless. We couldn’t say good morning without the other one responding with something like “Ugh. You made it through the night again?” One time she threw an open can of Sprite in my face in front of everybody at the bus stop. Once I literally tackled her for the last Band-Aid (she had a cut of some sort-allegedly). She had taken it from my side of the bathroom. I didn’t need it but I still tore it up so she couldn’t have it. We got into a physical, scratching, hair pulling fight as teenagers because I wanted the deadbolt on the front door locked and Melanie did not. As you can see, these were all serious, life threatening issues completely worth kicking each other’s asses over. (insert sarcasm here) Melanie might be little, but she’s mean, tough and scrappy. Since I’m bigger, the only way I ever won was if I sat on her.

(What did I tell you about looking at the sun on my day!)

But whenever my mom would say, “You know what? You two want to kill each other? Go ahead! I don’t care anymore. Go on! Hit her, Christa. Kick her, Melanie. You want it so bad? Kill each other. I dare you.” Then we would be like, “Geez, Mom. Calm down. I don’t want to hurt her. She’s my sister. You’re such a drama queen.” I’m surprised my mother didn’t drink more.

Young Adulthood

After I graduated high school, there was a huge change in the dynamic of our relationship. I’m not sure how or why but we started hanging out for no reason and realized, we really liked each other. We had so much fun together and really complimented each other. I was outgoing when she was shy. She was brave when I was a coward. She helped my fashion and I helped her stop wearing her bangs like a rooster.

(Who else is hanging their head in shame right now?)

I was on time when she was late. She was nurturing when I was a bitch. We took turns staying up and keeping watch for Freddy Krueger while the other one slept. She would flirt with cute guys she wasn’t interested in so I could mack on their friends. I would dry hump unsuitable guys from behind who were trying to dance with her when she didn’t want to. When she was in labor, I was the first to honestly tell her, “This is really not cute.” And she was the first to tell me the same about my ex-husband before he was my ex-husband. We’re both funny as hell. When I said, “I think I’ve had enough to drink tonight.” She would say, “You can’t listen to you. You’re drunk. Have another!” I so love my sissy! We’ve bowled together. We’ve gone clubbing together. We’ve traveled together. We’ve read the same books and loved the same movies. We’ve hated the same people. We’ve discovered a love of history together. We’ve run from the cops together. We’ve laughed and cried and vomited together. And that was just last summer!

The Here and Now

I can always be myself around my sister. I can tell my sister anything and vice versa. No judgment, no censure, no repeating it. In fact, sometimes she doesn’t even remember I told her something vitally important. We can rail, bitch, yell and cry at each other and then be fine like nothing happened 15 minutes later. My mom can’t understand that. But that’s just the way it is. As time passes and Melanie ages, we only get closer. She is now the mother of 2 teenagers. (Let us all take a moment of silence to pray for her……..thank you.) I am an actress in L.A. She sings in the church choir. I sing at karaoke. Our conversations revolve around work and what body part hurts most today. Our partying days are long behind us. Even though we live 2,300 miles apart (which, despite the laws of physics, both sucks and blows), I know she is always there for me. And I am always there for her.

(This is the least drunk-looking growed up pic I could find)

Out of all the stuff my mom’s ever given to me, I can honestly say Melanie is my favorite…followed by the time she introduced me to Ryan Seacrest. I will say, when my dad took me to the nursery and showed me baby Melanie screaming behind the glass, I very pragmatically said, “I’d rather have a pony.” I humbly admit, I was wrong.