Just Between You and Me

Tonight, Mr Dateman suggested I take a lovely photo of the bright red setting sun with my phone to put up on the blog, so I did. The only problem is that I don't know how to get it to a place where I can post it. So, until I can ask the girls, you get another photo of Stinky making dorky faces and flashing gang signs at YMCA camp. Ah, but she shore do make her mama proud.

Kids, I'm just tard - er, I mean, tired. I feel like I could sleep for a few days and still not be rested. Unfortunately for you, that means I might get a little earnest and introspective and maybe after you read it, we can all cry and have one giant group hug. Blech.

On Friday I was really bored and restless, so I thought I'd make a new Pandora internet radio station. For those of you who do not slave away in a cubicle all day building up your secretary spread, Pandora lets you list the name of a band or bands and it builds a radio station around that kind of music. It takes on a life of its own - kind of like musical sea monkeys. You can give me all the shit you want, but I was in the mood to hear Journey and Journey-like bands. My new Journey station was awesome. They played the best cheese from junior high and high school. I can't tell you when the last time was that I heard a song by April Wine, but I was happy when it showed up on my radio station on Friday.

Since there was absolutely no work to do. I played Mah-Jong and had WAY too much time to think. It struck me as odd that I got so nostalgic about high school when it was such a shitty time for me. After losing my third game of Mah-Jong, it occurred to me that I wasn't nostalgic for the horrible, real time I spent in my teens, it was more the world in my head that I wanted to go back to. Because I had to be able to function in a really unhealthy environment, I lived in my own little world a lot. Most of that time was spent listening to music and reading books and daydreaming about what my life would be like when I turned eighteen and could do whatever I wanted - or, if I met some friendly aliens who would help me with my plight and take my Aunt and Uncle on their space ship with all the rectal probes - or what would happen when I became the Centipede video game champion of the universe and I won millions of dollars worth of endorsements from Atari. Or whatever the hell else my poor sad brain fantasized about when I was in high school. (Believe me, you don't want to know any more details)

Then after I lost my sixth game of Mah-Jong in a row, it occurred to me that the coping mechanism that worked so well for me when I was in high school and powerless, messed me up later when I was an adult. When things got so bad and scary with my ex-husband, I lived in my own head and listened to music too. Since I was over eighteen, I could fantasize about winning the lottery and how I would take me and my girls out of our bad situation. The drag about it then, was that I was just numbing myself and sleepwalking, instead of thinking of any practical solutions. Finally, after a year had passed that way, I woke up and realistically looked at options and in another year, I got out.

See what I mean? It's all a little too Dr Phil for my blog, but it's what you get tonight. Maybe tomorrow, I'll be back in the mood to make more dildo and blow job jokes. I'm not promising anything, but I'll try.

Don't Let it Bring You Down

I just found out a guy I know died this weekend in a plane crash. He was a great husband and father to his wife and three kids and he was also just an all around good guy. I don't think I ever even heard him talk shit about anybody. He always made me look really bad in comparison.

The weird thing, is that his death was almost one year to the day of the awesome history professor's last February. Both men were amazing and worked hard at raising great, healthy kids. Of course, those kinds of deaths always beg the question: why, when there are so many nasty people fucking up kids on a daily basis, do the good dad's die before they have a chance to finish, or in this case, barely begin their job?

I read a blog post last year, (I have no idea which one it was, or I would attribute) where they talked about being able to trade one living asshole, for a great person who was already dead. I wouldn't even have to go that far. I'd be happy to just prevent the good ones from dying young in the future. I'd also be willing to trade some other jerk to die in their stead. In fact, I think we could easily work out a two for one deal. Give me five minutes to write a list of possible jerk candidates that I'd be willing to sacrifice, and it would stretch all the way down to the end of my very long street.

Okay, I'm done being all depressing for now. Tomorrow I promise to make more dork-ass cartoon pictures of myself, or go on ad nauseum about how crunk I was because I drank my gin and juice out of a sippy cup at the mall or whatever heinous nonsense I usually write on here. However it turns out, I'm dedicated to making my next post more Churlita-lite.

But Now's the Time to Look and Look Again at What You See

There are a lot of very difficult things about being a single parent, and I'm sure I've documented enough of them for me to be able to officially change the name of my blog to, "I'm a Single Mom: Wah-Fucking-Wah" if I so chose. Tonight, in a surprise move, I'm actually going to go the other way and relate something very rich and satisfying about being the sole, head of my household. I absolutely love tucking in my home for the night. The ritual is not only comforting, but it also makes me feel able and confident.

First, I check both doors to make sure they're locked. After we're all safe and secure, I turn down the thermostat. It's not just to save money, we all seem to sleep better at a cooler temperature. Next, I put whatever was in the washer (because there's almost always something) into the dryer and get it going.

Once I've brushed, washed, and changed, (not necessarily in that order) I do my equivalent of counting my chicks. One, two. One, two. I enter each girl's room and rearrange blankets so that my girls are sufficiently covered, turn off any radios and look for hidden flashlights used for covert, late night book reading - just to make sure nobody rolls over onto them in their sleep. At that point, I am free to indulge in my nighttime child gazing which I still do even though they are in their teens. Actually, it's probably more necessary now that I don't get to see them as much in general, let alone when they are quiet and peaceful and not talking to or about their friends.

At last, when the girls are as comfortable and safe as I can make them, I get to go to sleep. I pull out the futon couch and let myself get lulled to sleep by the hum of the dryer. I'm usually so exhausted at that point, that the sporadic clinking and clanking of buttons against metal doesn't even prevent me from drifting off.

It's Not a Joke, It's Cards on the Table Time

I wanted to see a picture of green grass. It hasn't snowed all winter and everything is so brown and boring right now.


Everyone is writing about resolutions, and lord knows, I want to do what all the cool kids are doing. So, I figured I'd at least address the idea of New Year's resolutions tonight.

I finally got around to taking the tree down today. I was going to do it yesterday when I had a whole day off, but I got so busy doing whatever the hell it was I did, and I never got around to it. I procrastinate - it's one of the things I do really well. It's also something about me that can drive certain people crazy. The thing is, for the most part, I'm okay with where I'm at with procrastination. I get the important things done, like paying bills and scheduling appointments (in general) now. So, if it takes me an extra day to get my Christmas tree down, I figure I probably needed some down time

In general, I don't make New Year's resolutions. I like to just try to work on the things that bother me about myself. I realize that there are plenty of things I don't work on, that annoy other people, but I could care less. I'm the only person who has to live inside my head, (and you can all count your blessings for that) so, I only work on the things that I find troubling about myself.

1.) I resolve not to work on my time management issues, because I finally have them where I can function and still dick around as much as I need to. (and yes, I need time to putz around at some point every day) I also resolve not to beat myself up for being messy. I'm not a tidy girl, and lucky for me, I'm not afraid of chaos. In fact, I could kick chaos' ass any day of the week.


2.) I will try to read more books this year. I sucked at that last year, because I was too busy obsessively reading blogs. Balance. Yes, balance, is what I'm working on this year.

3.) I want to get in shape and eat better this winter. I'm usually fine in the summer, but I'm notorious for growing an ample winter pelt and I'm getting tired of only being able to wear that one pair of fat girl jeans by February.

4.) I also want to at least get started on the painting I was supposed to have completed over a year and a half ago. Jaysus, but it's embarrassing to admit, that except for a few preliminary sketches, I haven't really done anything on it.

5.) Finally, I want to spaz less. When I think of all the energy I spend stressing out about stupid shit, it makes me dizzy, which in turn stresses me out even more. If I could have expended that energy for good instead of evil, I would probably have finished a few paintings and read fifty books in the last year alone.

It's Okay, It's Alright, Nothing's Wrong

Today is the fourth anniversary of when the girls and I moved into our current digs. Before that, we lived with my ex-boyfriend who had become increasingly controlling and angry in general. Unfortunately for me, I had been in abusive relationships before, (beginning with my leagal guardians) and I was smart enough to get the hell out, before things escalated the way they most certainly would. I had people and trucks all lined up, but my Ex decided he wasn't going to let anyone else move me, and I knew it would just be easier to let him have his way one last time, than to expose myself or anyone else to his rage.

As you can probably guess, the moving process was horrible. Not only did my Ex make me lift extremely heavy objects into his truck by myself, he also screamed at me for loading his truck incorrectly. By the time it was all over, I was so physically and emotionally exhausted, that my body could only respond by giving me a blinding three day migraine.

I have vowed never to expose myself or my daughters to that kind of bullshit again. Since that day, I've read a lot about abusive men and I can spot the warning signs a mile away. I'm sure I'm probably way too cautious when it comes to dating, but that's just because I'm very aware that there are plenty of things in this world worse than being single. I feel really good about how hard I've worked and how much I've learned in the last four years. Not to get all earnest on you guys or anything, but I'm still getting used to being able to like myself and every once in a while it's good to remind myself how far I've come.

Okay, now I'm done with the Lifetime Channel portion of this post, does anyone want to talk about snotting on fish or how scary it would be to date Rush Limbaugh?