Happy Halloween Everyone! Be safe, have fun get lots of candy!

My favorite Halloween

Growing up a preacher’s daughter meant I grew up money poor, but I never knew I was poor. Looking back now I realize how much my mom and dad sacrificed for us to have what little we did have.

Halloween was no exception. It was a very rare year when I got a store bought costume with the plastic mask and the elastic band that went around your head and twisted into your hair and hurt like the dickens when you took your mask off at home. But I digress.

We may have been money poor, but we were rich with imagination and creativity. One year I wore my mother’s dress, a few scarves, and lots of makeup and went as a gypsy. One year I wore one of my dad’s suit coats, drew on a 5 o’clock shadow, borrowed a hat and went as a gangster. We used what we had and we improvised and had fun. One kid at school put oatmeal on his face, let it dry and looked like a creature from Night of the living dead (or someone with really bad psoriasis).

One of my best and favorite Halloween memories is the Halloween we lived in a little town on I-70, Jonesburg, Missouri. In Jonesburg, lived Mrs. Garrett. Mrs. Garrett was everyone’s grandma. Everyone in town loved her, all the kids from newborn on up, even the high school guys who were too cool to care about anyone loved Mrs. G. Mrs. Garrett loved Halloween. She loved to watch the kids get all dressed up, run all over town getting candy and goodies. That’s when towns were safe and the kids could roam free and nobody had to worry about getting hurt, shot, or kidnapped.

This particular year, Mrs. Garrett decided she would join in on the fun. So, as the sun set and it got darker and the trick-or-treaters came out to collect their bounty, Mrs. Garrett turned on her porch light, and set a bowl of candy outside, right beside the lawn chair where her friendly ghost had been sitting, keeping watch over her house for the past two weeks.

There were no lights on in the house, and the neighborhood thought that odd that Mrs. Garrett would miss out on her favorite holiday, watching and laughing and chatting with all the trick-or-treaters. Her porch light was on, and everyone knows that the universal signal for ‘Come and get your candy here’. So, mom, dad, my brother and I walked up to Mrs. Garrett’s house, rang her door bell, and waited; no answer. So, we knocked on the door, and waited; again no answer. Just then, the friendly little ghost who had faithfully kept watch over Mrs. Garrett’s house all week, said ‘I don’t believe she’s home. Here, help yourself to some of this candy.’ We jumped clean out of our skin. Mrs. Garrett had dressed up as her friendly ghost for Halloween and was taking part in the fun and the tricking and treating.

I’m sure Mrs. Garrett has long since physically left this earth, but I am also sure that every Halloween night, she is out haunting and tricking and treating all the ghosts and goblins in the little town of Jonesburg, enjoying her favorite holiday. Where ever you are Mrs. G. Happy Halloween.

The Knucklehead turned out to be me

Isn’t it funny, the knucklehead turned out to be me? My knuckleheads saw the truth, saw through the bullshit, and I didn’t. I was totally and completely submersed in denial. (And I ain’t talkin’ about the river in Egypt).

Listen, can you hear it? The ‘I told you so.’ I know it will never be said to me directly, but I can hear it.

Queen B wrote:

Some people never get it and they probably never will. Past behavior is the best indicator for future behavior. I'm not surprised - but it's annoying as all hell. I read in a schmaltzy Annie's Mailbox clipping the other day the following (about an unrelated topic): "You cannot expect them to remain an unending well of comfort." . I hope like hell I'm not the only one who read that - I know of a couple of others who really need to read it and understand it. There are folks out there who will just bleed you dry - just to prove to themselves that someone cares. I'm bone dry, folks, thanks so much. Your life is falling apart? I don't care - I cannot care anymore. You continue to make the same childish, selfish, ignorant, immature, asinine choices that continue to drop you on your ass in the same horrible places. It must be working for you, you must be getting something out of it, or else you would stop doing the same damned thing. I've given you folks everything I can give you - you're on your own.

It really pissed me off that she was preaching again. At least that’s what I wanted to believe was the reason I was pissed off. Truth is, I was pissed off because she saw beyond the bullshit and saw right into the truth of me, and called me on it. Yes, she could have been nicer, more respectful about the way she said it, but that’s never been a strong suit with her. She likes to ‘tell it like it is’ and respect be damned.

This isn’t about her, it’s not about the knuckleheads, it’s about me. I keep seeing scenes from ’28 days’ running through my head, but instead of Sandra Bullock, it’s me, it’s my life now. Several members of my family are co-dependent, and therefore, think that I am too. I’m not the co-dependent one, I’m the dependent one. I’m the one bleeding them dry, I’m the one sucking the life out of them. They need to be needed, I need to need them. The problem is, they chose not to live the co-dependent life any more, leaving me no one to feed off of. The day I decided to write Queen B out of my life was probably the best day of her life, and instead of getting mad, or being hurt like I wanted her to, she probably felt a great deal of relief.

The knuckleheads won’t even begin to allow me to feed off them. They have enough issues of their own that take up a lot of their time, life, and energy. They have nothing extra to spare for me.

The headache, the rolling stomach, the aftermath of a couple of drinks, and the conversations that transpired last night during the drinking, was enough to someone open my eyes, make me see what they all could plainly see, and made me realize the only person I’ve been fooling has been myself. I have been humbled, and I don’t like it here, it’s uncomfortable. The ugly truth can really make a person squirm, especially when they’ve been running from it.

I spent 10 years in an abusive relationship, not because I enjoyed it, but because I got attention and my identity from the abuse. I was the victim, he was the asshole. I thought it worked for me, until people got tired of hearing me bitch about how bad my life was, and saw that I was doing nothing to change it. If your hand burns when you put it in a fire, you don’t continue to put your hand in the fire. Except that is exactly what I was doing. I was staying, because I was feeding off of people feeling sorry for me, sharing my anger at my husband for his behavior.

My father shared this bit of wisdom with my sister, and she shared it once with me.

The Theory of Quantum Physics states that the world, the universe, is expanding. Slowly, bit by bit, year by year, each planet, each star, each mass out there in space is drifting further and further apart from each other. It will eventually be so far apart, that it will shatter all former limitations and groupings and arrangements. The universe is destroying itself. The universe is falling apart."
The reason the universe is falling apart is so that it may come back together in a higher order. Things have to be deconstructed before they can be reconstructed. Things have to fall apart and get worse before they can get better. So, when you feel like your life is falling apart, it's because it really and truly is. But it's falling apart so that it might come back together in a higher order."

When she shared this with me, my reaction was “Of course it will get better, once all this BS in my life stops that’s better than the hell I’m in right now.” God I was an ignorant smart ass. My life has been falling apart, and I’ve been allowing it. I’ve done nothing to prevent it, stop it, or even slow it down. I’ve allowed it fall apart, probably egged it on a few times, and then sat back and sucked the life out of people around me, expecting them to bail me out.

So, I know I can’t control the universe, it’s going to continue to fall apart so that it can come back together in a higher order. My life, I can control. I don’t have to let it continue to fall apart, it’s time to start getting it to come together. I have been brought down from the mountain of bullshit on which I sat. I have been humbled by the truth. The view down here is not pretty, in fact it’s the bare ass naked ugly truth. I can change that. Now it’s time for me to do some ‘damage control’ as Queen B said. It’s time to take stock, take responsibility, take action.

God grant me the SERENITY to accept the things I cannot change;
COURAGE to change the things I can;
and WISDOM to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
enjoying one moment at a time;
accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it:
Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will;
that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him forever in the next. Amen

Best $5 I ever spent

I woke up this morning, slightly hung over. Yes, I know I shouldn’t drink during the week and try to function at 100% the next day at work, but things just sort of fell into place last night, and I had a couple.

Ever notice how it takes a headache and a rolling stomach to make you re-think what you thought was a good idea at the time? I swore this morning I was never going to drink again. I was not worshipping-at-the-porcelain-alter drunk or even hung over, but at my age, a headache and a rolling stomach are enough to make you swear off the drinks for a while.

After a shower, getting dressed, gingerly eating two pieces of toast and guzzling what seemed like a gallon of ice water, I was starting to feel a little closer to human again, and decided I was capable of facing this day, if I could just find some aspirin to stop the pounding in my head.

I got in the car to come to work only to see that the gas gage is sitting on E. Not just sitting on E, it appears to be glaring at me. Great. Now I’ve got to stop and put gas in the car on my way to work. Hope they have aspirin at the gas station. Yes, I know I will pay through the nose for them, but I will gladly part with any amount of money to make the drum line in my head go away.

I grabbed a $20 from my purse, put $10 gas in the tank, and decided while I was paying for it, “What the hell, give me one of those $5 lottery tickets” (aspirin completely flew the coop, didn’t even look for them). Got in the car and came into work. Sat down at my desk, scratched the ticket and got to looking and said 'I think I won!' I think I just won $20. No, wait, did I? Oh my God, I think it's $50! No, it's bigger than $50, could it be $75? Holy shit, check this out I think I just won $100!!!! I never win anything bigger than $10 in a scratcher ticket. No way, Maybe I’m reading this wrong.' So, I had 3 other people check it out and they agreed, they all thought I'd won $100 too, so my boss told me 'Run up the road to the gas station and have them check it out!' Sure as shit, I had just won $100! And they paid it out right there on the spot, in CA$H, cold hard ca$h!

The marching band and the drum line that had been pounding away in my head had just magically become a full fledge parade, and I was the grand marshal. The hangover was gone, and nothing could go wrong the rest of the day. Ever notice how $100 can magically make you re-think what you thought wasn’t the best decision you could have made this morning? It was the best tank of gas, and $5 I ever spent.

Men are like....

My best girlfriend sent this to me, and it made me laugh. I was just thinking, you can’t expect a knucklehead to be anything other than a knucklehead. You can’t expect a horse to be a cow, and you can’t expect a Ford to drive like a porche. But men can be just like a lot of things such as
...Laxatives ... They irritate the shit out of you.
...Bananas ... The older they get, the less firm they are.
...Weather ... Nothing can be done to change them.
...Blenders ... You need One, but you're not quite sure why.
...Chocolate Bars ... Sweet, smooth, & they usually head right for your hips.
...Commercials ... You can't believe a word they say.
..Department Stores ... Their clothes are always 1/2 off.
...Government Bonds ... They take soooooooo long to mature.
...Mascara ... They usually run at the first sign of emotion.
...Popcorn ... They satisfy you, but only for a little while.
... Snowstorms ... You never know when they're coming, how many inches you'll get or how long it will last.
...Lava Lamps ... Fun to look at, but not very bright.
...Parking Spots ... All the good ones are taken, the rest are handicapped.

Random thoughts and meanderings

I have been playing at changing up by blog lately. For the one of you that checks in on a regular basis, you will notice a change in colors, sometimes quite often. I’ve recently been told

You cannot see or hear something that some one has and then just decide to make it your own. This applies to catch phrases, favorite songs, a particular style, and even friends. And yes, there are folks out there who will just snag anything and everything from someone else just so they don't have to do the work to gather up their own. It is just not cool.

I am changing the way my blog looks so that it looks nothing like anyone else’s. That may mean mismatched color schemes, it may mean more clip art, more pictures, it may mean less. All I know is that it means DIFFERENT.

I got an email from my father’s wife (yes, technically that makes her my step-mother, but that just doesn’t fit our relationship, so we don’t use that term) reminding me that Christmas is a mere 2 months away and it’s time to start sending out emails with the kids’ wish lists. Geez Louise! I don’t have Halloween costumes yet, and they want wish lists? My kids are so helpful when it comes to Christmas. Ask them, What do you want for Christmas? The answer will either be ‘I don’t know’ or ‘Nothing’. One of which is impossible to figure out, the other I have in over abundance. At my house, if you don’t give Santa explicit instructions and a specific wish list, you get whatever he leaves ya. Good luck.

My children, the 6 year old especially, informed me the other day, that ‘Our parents are Santa Claus’. Well, who sold her that bundle of BS? Am I really ready to give up the gig? Hell no! I shouldn’t be the least bit surprised that Santa bit the big one, the Easter Bunny died a year or two ago. Even though she’s smart enough to have figured it all out (you can’t get anything past this one) I was sure her brother and maybe her sister still held on to Santa Claus. And just in case there was still a believer or two in the house I covered her declaration with ‘You better hope and pray I’m not Santa because if you’re counting on me to put presents under that tree this year, you’re out of luck. I’m flat ass broke. You better believe there’s a Santa Claus. I don’t have money for presents.’ I’m sure it didn’t work, and nobody believed it, but I at least had to try.

As I mentioned before, we are 5 days away from Halloween and I don’t have costume one for my kids. Fine. It’s not my holiday this year. They will be with their dad. It’s his deal, his issue, his problem to solve. I’ve done Halloween costumes every year for the past 11 years, I’m sitting this one out. Let their dad worry about trick or treating, getting costumes together, the whole nine yards. Holidays were always my thing, and he never participated unless forced to. This year, he’s on his own and had to participate. I’m not bailing him out.

That’s all the ranting I have for now. Check in tomorrow, same bat time, same bat station. (Oops! I stole that line too. Thanks Batman.)

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free. In love, you feel the most alive when your lover is creative and never lets you feel bored. You'd like to your lover to think you are optimistic and happy. You would be forced to break up with someone who was emotional, moody, and difficult to please. Your ideal relationship is comforting. You crave a relationship where you always feel warmth and love. Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment. You think of marriage as something precious. You'll treasure marriage and treat it as sacred. In this moment, you think of love as something you thirst for. You'll do anything for love, but you won't fall for it easily.

What Are The Keys To Your Heart?

Get over it and get on with life already

"I'm going to go to Washington, D.C. and I'm going to give a speech at the White House, and after I do, I'm going to tie myself to the fence and refuse to leave until they agree to bring our troops home," Sheehan said in a telephone interview last week

While I agree she has the right to voice her opinion (however misguided and selfish it might be) hasn't this gone on long enough? The war is not about her, it's not about her son, it's not about any of the sons or daughters that are over there fighting. W is not going to bring the troops home because some grief stricken mother can't get on with her life.

My brother has been over to 'the little box across the ocean' several times and my family has been lucky he's come home each time. He joined the military 12 years ago. Part of the job description is to fight when the government says fight, fight whatever battles, war, military actions they decide to send you to. He knew that war was a possibility when he enlisted. That is what the military does. They fight.

Sheehan's son supposedly knew this when he joined the military. Did she honestly think that he could be 'excused' from this war because she didn't believe in it? Isn't it time to step up and accept the fact that your son joined the military and knew the risks when he joined? Did someone hold a gun to his head and make him enlist? Was he sane and in his right mind when he enlisted? I'm sure he made an informed choice, and chose to serve his country. He died defending the very country that allows you the freedom to voice the very opinion that denigrates the fight he was fighting.

Time to get over it, pack it up, go home and get on with life. Enjoy your freedom, be grateful you are free to voice your opinion. You son died defending that freedom.

Who the fuck died and made her queen?

I can’t say that I didn’t ask for it, but God Damn, who died and made my sister the authority on everything!? Since when did she get the right to preach to everyone about how they should live their life? I guess we all should get down on our knees and pray to our higher power (who can not be named Elvis, because that’s her higher power and she has apparently cornered the market on that name) that we can all live up the standards of life she has deemed the good, the right, and the only way.

If we don’t live up to her standards, she writes you right on out of her life. Ask our only living grandmother. My loving and forgiving and righteous and holier than thou sister has not bothered to speak to our grandmother for a year because there was a conflict that involved said grand mother’s dog, and said sister’s children.

To quote my sister verbatim (I would not want to be accused of getting it wrong, in any way or ‘borrowing’ anything that is strictly and completely and totally without question hers) I got the following email from her. My thoughts and responses are in White within the text.

It's annoying that you have taken on aspects of my life as your own(using Elvis as a higher power?? You are now saying "Dear Elvis??" (I used Elvis when talking to you, or about a conversation we had just to keep things clear. Frankly, my ‘higher power’ is bigger than Elvis. My higher power is God, who died and came back to life. Elvis died. He has no power. Higher or otherwise) Come on, that was all my creation during my days at Al-Anon.) You wrote in an email last week all upset about your life and you said that "people you know have things so much better than you" and then you listed MY friends (Jill, DeeDee, Velma.) (I used Jill and Velma because I had read their blogs. I didn’t realize that you owned them as well and I needed your permission to read what YOUR friends had posted on the web for public viewing. I’m so fucking sorry to have treaded on your personal territory. I didn’t know you owned them too!) I know that you do not have girlfriends and you have mentioned that you would like that to change, but you cannot just take mine and act as though they are yours! (I’m not trying to take you friends. Besides if they’re your friends I’m sure I would have nothing in common with them anyway and would find no reason to form a friendship. I was just in awe of them being powerful and strong women. Excuse the fuck out of me. Trust me, nothing against them, I’m sure they are great –based solely on what I read- but if they are your friends there is NO fucking danger of me taking them. As if they are possessions) I work hard every single day at maintaining these long lasting enduring friendships. I have shared joys and pains and elation and rage and hurt and grief and way too many drinks with these women for them to be something that I share as casually as tic tacs. If you were to actually meet them and hang out with them and then develop your own relationships with them, then WONDERFUL! (Rest assured, me hanging out with them will never happen, because I would never want to be accused of ‘stealing’ friends from you. Here’s a fucking clue Ms High Priestest, you don’t own them, they are their own person and can make their own decisions. ) I'd be so thrilled if that were the case - but to just take something that I have that you want without the effort is, well, annoying and childish. (You have nothing that I really truly want, in my heart of hearts. I was just sick at the poor pitiful me, my life is awful because I have a husband who doesn’t pick up laundry or do dishes. Get the fuck over it. You get to stay home with your boys day in and day out. You get to actually raise your kids while your husband makes a living working to make money to pay the bills, to buy the wonderful house you get to live in. I am busy fucking working just to put food on the table for my children. Cry somewhere else about how awful your life is. I’d like to see you make it a month in my shoes. How often do you eat mac n cheese and hot dogs because THAT’S ALL YOU HAVE IN THE HOUSE AND PAYDAY IS 4 DAYS AWAY???? How many meals do you skip so that your kids can have food to eat for the next day or two? I’m willing to bet not many. That is a monthly occurance in my world. MONTHLY!)

This is not coming out the way I want it to - it sounds so grade school. But you know what I'm talking about? Get your own phrase, your own personality, your own friends, your own life and please stop taking mine. I've worked hard to get where I am, to have the friends I have, to have the personality that I have. It's ME. You should want to have your own and work to make it so. God knows that I never got anywhere by hitching a ride on anyone else's wagon - when my life was all fucked up, I tried like hell to cling on to other folks' realities. Know where it got me? No where good (first husband, too many drugs, lots of booze, etc.) It wasn't until I started living my OWN LIFE that things got better for me. You cannot live through me - and, while you might not be trying to do so, all appearances show that you are. (I’m not trying to live through you, nor do I want to be you. I couldn’t handle being judge and jury of the whole world. I wouldn’t presume to tell people how righteous my life is and how they are doing it all wrong. I can’t even begin to live up to the standards you’ve set for all of us. I’m not even going to try. And don’t come running to me when you get lonely after you’ve told everyone they are wrong. I won’t give a fuck then either)

I know it might not sound like it, but it is really hard on me to write these kinds of emails. I don't like being curt and objectionable. I don't like confrontation - but I'm not afraid of it, either. I understand that this email was probably really upsetting to you, but I have been really upset for some time about these issues. I cannot control (nor would I want to control) the way you feel, but I also cannot sit by and let myself being taken advantage of. I care too much about myself for that.

Fine, I asked for it, I got it. Now, you have nothing else to worry about. It seems to me that you are capable of writing people out of your life, such as our grandmother, so I will once again borrow, steal, whatever you want to call it, I will take one last thing from you. I will write you completely out of my life. You will no longer have to worry about me calling you for anything. I will no longer be a drain on you, your precious family (which is so much better than mine and yet you have the nerve to bitch about your horrible life) I will no longer be a thorn in you side. You have just freed up an incredible amount of time and energy that you seem to think was a waste. Don't worry. It won't happen again. EVER!

The world at my finger tip

I went out this weekend, and splurged just a bit, and bought a small, inexpensive, not very fancy, digital cameral.  It will take still pictures and also about 4 minutes of video, (if I so chose).

I surf through other people’s blogs, and see all the pictures of people, friends, pets, nature, you name it, there are pictures out there and they seem to open up a whole new world in writing.  I had no way other than to beg my sister to take pictures when we were together and then ask her to email them to me.  Such a burden for her already already overflowing schedule.  I hate being dependent on someone else, even if she didn’t mind.

So, I bought the camera yesterday, and took exactly ZERO pictures, because the kids were all with their dad.  Tonight they all will be home, so the pictures will begin to show up on my blog soon enough.  I promise I will try not to bore everyone with tons of pics of my kids.  I will find other things, other people, to take pics of and write about.

My world has just opened up and anything is possible now.

Maybe he's not such a knucklehead after all

Young knucklehead called last night. I know I shouldn't get excited, and shouldn't get my hopes up too high, but it's hard not to. He said that he would probably come over tonight after work for a drink. He hasn't been over for a drink in months. He even called me sweetie last night when he called. Which all leads me to believe that while we may not be completely and totally back together, and certainly not nearly as close as we once were, we at least are taking baby steps towards that again. We're starting over at the beginning again, (if that's possible), and I'm thrilled!

What I don't want in a man

I have been reading ‘The best of Craig’s list’ (craigslist.org) to kill some time because I’m bored at work. Sometimes it just amazes me what people will put in personal ads, looking for someone else to connect with on some level in some meaningful-to-at-least-one-of-them way.

So, while looking through all of these random postings by anonymous people looking for someone or something, I thought I’d make a list of things I DON’T want in a man. Everyone is putting out there what they are looking for, I thought I’d make a check list of things I don’t want, eliminate the unworthy before they even contact me.

Here’s my list:

• If you own a cowboy hat, keep it at home, I don’t want to know about it.
• If you don’t own a suit and tie, don’t bother with me.
• If your idea of dressing up is tucking in your shirt, wearing clean jeans and your ‘not work boots’ you’re wasting your time and mine.
• If your idea of eating out at a ‘nice restaurant’ is eating at Long John Silver’s or Cap’n D’s, forget it.
• Rednecks and goat ropers need not bother, find yourself a redneck woman, I’m not your girl.
• If you drive a truck, if that truck has a lift kit and or a gun rack in the back window, keep on driving.
• If your name is Chris, I’m sorry. I’ve had my fill of Chris’ and I’m not interested. Sure I may be missing out on some great men that way, but I’m not willing to risk it.
• If you think that 8 seconds is a long ride, I am sorry for you, and whoever you end up with, but I’ve seen snowballs in hell with better odds than you have at this point.
• If your belt buckle is bigger than the belt it is attached you, you have serious size issues.
• If you believe a woman’s place in the kitchen, let me be the first to put you in your place.
• If you believe that give and take means one person does all the giving while the other does all the taking, it’s no wonder you’re alone.
• If you believe you are God’s gift to women, chances are, you’re not, unless it was a gag gift.
• I will not date men who are pretty than I am. I tried that once, his ego got in the way.
• If you think Homer is only Bart’s father, go back to school.

I want someone who not only owns a suit and tie but also wears them on a regular basis, preferably to work. I want someone who not only wears the look of success, but also carries the aura of success with him everywhere. I want self- confidence without being cocky, success without bragging. I want respect, both for himself and for others. I want someone who can laugh at himself, who offers support without judgment. I want someone who is willing to open himself up and feel real feelings. I want someone who will talk with me about any number of subjects, who is not afraid to listen to my feelings. I want someone who knows how to have fun, and how to be serious. I want someone who will ride a roller coaster with me, or go to ball games with me. I want someone who looks as yummy in a suit and tie, a tux, or blue jeans or shorts and feels comfortable in any of those. I want someone who looks well put together but is not afraid to get mussed up.

I found my man of my dreams once, but he was in my dreams. He was all of the above and so much more, and he only exists when I’m asleep. If he is real, I haven’t found him yet. Maybe my expectations are too high, maybe the only man who can meet all my needs can only exist in my dreams. I would be happy to just find someone close.

Some things never change

Some things never change, and if I honestly believed they would, then I was just kidding myself.

I was offered the opportunity to work late tonight and pick up some overtime. Time and a half is good money and I could use the extra money, always. But it’s my night to have the kids. Ian’s dad had no problem with Ian staying with him tonight. I will have Ian this weekend, so I’ll get to see him.

The girls’ dad was a different story. When I asked him last night ….
‘Could you keep the girls tomorrow night too?’

Why?

Well, if you must know, I’ve been asked to work late and I could use the overtime.

So, you want me to keep them tonight, tomorrow night, and all weekend too?

Well, I had planned on seeing them Friday at the chili supper, if that’s ok. Besides, you’ve asked me to keep them both weekends of deer season, and you can’t even hunt.

Look, if you want to go out, just tell me, you don’t have to make up excuses.

OK, so not only are you giving me grief and refusing to help me out, you’re calling me a liar too? It’s so nice to know some things NEVER change. You still accuse me of things I’m not doing, and frankly I don’t owe you an explanation. You know what? Just forget it. I’ll take the girls tomorrow night, I’ll miss out on the OT and the extra money. Just don’t expect any favors from me any more.


The divorce has been final 15 months. He’s moved on, he’s got a girlfriend, and still he’s accusing me lying to him! The suspicions never stop, and the accusations. I’m not even mad he won’t take the girls tonight, (even though it is rather annoying that I’m missing out on the OT and the extra money) I’m more pissed off that that he had to accuse me of lying and wanting to go out tonight instead of working. Even now the accusations never stop.

Yes, I should just let it all go, I shouldn’t let him bother me, but damn it he accused me of lying to him! Some thing never change. It just goes to reinforce my decision to walk away and be completely done with him. Unbelievable.

Knuckleheads

Have you ever been hopelessly head over heels in love, only to find out you were probably head over heels in love with the idea of being in love?

I have several knuckleheads in my life, some more involved in my life than others, and some bigger knuckleheads that others, but all of them knuckleheads nonetheless. And I seem to love them all, in some way or another.

Knucklehead #1 is by far my favorite knucklehead, because we’ve been friends the longest. We are the most alike, our lives are very similar, and we have the same basic background, and have experienced some of the same things although not together. He is a goober and that’s what I love about him. He is an eternal optimist, sometimes to the point of denial. He’s such a lovable person, and a sweet friend, who would give up anything to help his friends. He cares deeply and loves completely. His inner circle of friends consort to protect and shield him from the harsh realities of life. They make excuses for him or to him for the world around him. They bail him out when he gets in a bind. They tell him what he wants to hear, which is not always the truth. They love him and they protect him and they cripple him. The overwhelming consensus of everyone who knows him is that he’s a good guy; he’s just a prima donna. The irony is that everyone in his life helps to perpetuate the whole prima donna persona.

I know all of this about him, and them, and I love him anyway. Not in a romantic kind of way. In another time, in another place, in a parallel universe we would be together. But in this reality, we are destined to just be friends. He’s my best friend.

Have you ever been so love with someone it hurts? So in love with someone you can’t breathe? So in love with someone nothing else matters when you’re together? That would be knucklehead #2.

He was my prince charming. He was the best relationship I’d ever had. He made me happier than I’ve ever been. We had it all, trust, respect, spaces in our togetherness, laughter, love. Then pain, silence, distance, gone.

I never expected to love him. We never said it, but we could feel it. While ‘I love you’ never crossed his lips, his heart told my heart ‘I love you’ every time we were together. There was no rush, no thrill, no frills, nothing fancy about us. We just hung out, spent quiet, peaceful, evenings at home watching movies. We spent wonderful tumultuous, wild nights riding the waves of passion. There was a time he drove all the way home from KC just to sleep beside me for 1 night. There was the time he planned to spend 1 night with me and ended up staying the whole weekend.

I could look into his eyes and see into his heart. I could see the love I could feel and he could never speak of. I knew I was loved without ever hearing the words. I never doubted him, never questioned him, trusted beyond doubt, without measure, and loved beyond reason.

And then, my demons reared their ugly heads and my past destroyed my future. I suffered a breakdown, and he just could not handle the emotional roller coaster. I know, if he had truly loved me he would have stay by me, but he couldn’t. Maybe it’s still blind love and trust, but I don’t hold it against him that he wasn’t strong enough for me. In honesty, my mental destruction was scary. He has his own mental anguish to deal with, mine added to his was too much for him. I had unfinished business from my divorce. I had issues I hadn’t faced, and demons I had to slay.

I have faced my hell, I’ve come through it, I’ve survived and become better and stronger for it. I still lost the love of my knucklehead. Maybe that’s the price I had to pay. I will forever be grateful for the time I loved and was loved by him. It was a magical time, full of hope, love, joy, laughter. It still hurts when I realize what I’ve lost, but I look back through the tears and I smile.

Knucklehead #3 is the rarest of them all. He doesn’t live here anymore, but we talk often on the phone. He is one I never expected to connect with on any level at all. Turns out he challenges me intellectually. He’s the perfect combination of city and country. He hunts deer, he’s travel to New York to see a Broadway play. I know that life with him would be grand and easy and the sweet life. I would want for nothing, and I would be adored beyond belief. It sounds like every girl’s dream, but I have to sell my soul for the life he could provide. He would adore me, but I’m not in love with him, and unreturned adoration eventually becomes resentment. I would have to settle for a relationship with someone I’m not in love with, and no matter how wonderful my life could be, without love it would be nothing.

Knucklehead # 4 is one I'm proud of. When I met him he had jewlry provided by Dept of Corrections. I didn't ask, and he didn't tell. It didn't matter. People make mistakes, and people learn lessons, and people can change. Some one believed in him enough to give him a job, who was I to sit in judgement when I had just met him. He played by the rules, he walked the straight and narrow, for a very long time. But, because he's human, he slipped, he tripped, he fell from grace. He lost his way and lost control. At the time it was hard to watch him hurt himself and everyone around him, but until he was ready to get help nobody could help him. He finally hit rock bottom, and he bounced. He got the help he needed and got back on the straight and narrow. He found his way back to his family, his friends, his job, his life. And he walked the straight and narrow again, for a long time. But once again, he tripped, he slipped, he fell. And he hit rock bottom. He realized he needed help, and he got the help he needed and turned his life around again.

How many strikes does a person get before they're out? That's not for me to decide. I'm not in love with this knucklehead. We've never had a romantic relationship. He's a good person, who makes mistakes. Sometimes his demons are bigger and stronger than he is. He may occassionally lose a battle to them, but he always comes back fighting and he never gives up. He continues to try no matter how often he falls. He has more courage than anyone I've ever known. He has a huge heart and he loves completely. He's smart, and caring and funny, and wonderful. He's human, he has faults, but he never gives up.

I have several knuckleheads in my life, some more involved in my life than others, and some bigger knuckleheads that others, but all of them knuckleheads nonetheless.

Tomorrow is another day

I think I’m just going to go home, take care of the kids’ needs tonight, dinner, homework, baths, showers, bed and the because I don’t have the luxury of my sister’s *ahem* herbal cures, I am going to tango with Captain Morgan until I can not tango any longer.  

Yes, I know that the answer can not be found in the bottom of the bottle, I don’t expect to find any answers there.  I just want to get comfortably numb.  I don’t want to give a shit any more about anything.  I want to put my children safely to bed.  I will love them and kiss them and snuggle with them and be the perfect mom that I am every other night.  After all, my morbid feelings are not a reflection of them and are by no means caused by them, so they should not have to suffer through them, not even for a minute.  Once I know they are tucked safely and soundly and lovingly into bed, I am going to dance with Captain Morgan until I can no longer remember the steps.  Tomorrow is another day, full of the same unfulfilled feelings.  Tomorrow is another brick in the wall on which I seem to perpetually bang my head.

Maybe tomorrow I just won’t care how meaningless, mundane and sad my life really is.  But tonight, I want to forget, as much as possible.  I want to numb myself to the pain, and fill the empty void I feel inside.  As I stated above, I know the answers do not lie in the bottle, so save me the sermons and the lectures.  I just want to stop feeling this way, even if that means I stop feeling everything!  Just for tonight.  Give me a fucking break.  I can’t be happy and perfect and cheerful and rosy like all of you all of the time.  MY LIFE SUCKS THE HAPPINESS CLEAN OUT OF ME SOMETIMES.  Today is one of those times.  Get off my back.  

You know, last night I met the man of my dreams.  Know how I know?  I dreamt him up.  I don’t know his name, I’ve never seen him before, but last night in my dreams there he was. Perfect.  Everything I wanted in a man.  Handsome as the devil, well adjusted, gainfully employed, self confident without being cocky, loved me more than life itself, loved my children, wanted nothing more than to make me smile and to love me as much as I loved him.  And I loved him.  God did I love him.  But, what was not to love? I made him up.  I will never find him when I’m awake (he doesn’t exist) and I’ll probably never see him again in my dreams either.  But I can say I found the man of my dreams once upon a time.  

So tonight is all about forgetting.  Forgetting that I am alone.  Forgetting that in order for me to find love I have to dream him up.  Forgetting that aside from my family, nobody wants me.  Forgetting that a year ago I had a wonderful person in my life, and now that person is gone and the emptiness they left behind is sometimes more than I can handle.  Tonight, for just 1 night, I want to wallow is self pity and sorrow.  Tomorrow I will pick myself up by my boot straps and face another day and who knows, maybe once I get this crap out of my system I’ll remember everything I learned in therapy and I’ll believe it all again and I’ll know I’m in a better place.  After all, tomorrow is another day  

I'm published!

A few months ago I wrote an entry about my cousin’s wife who photographs children.  She is talented beyond measure and her pictures touch me in ways I can’t begin to explain.

I sent her a copy of my writing, just to share with her how she touches my life.  She shares her talent with me by posting pictures on her website, I wanted to share my talent (such as it is) with her.

I visited her professional website today only to see my words there.  She had mentioned she was going to use some of my writing on her website, so it wasn’t a surprise.  But there is a small thrill in seeing my words used on her website.  I’m published!  LOL

A small thrill and a tiny bit of pride.  I am honored my words touched her as much as her pictures touch me.

What is the fucking point?

Could somebody please tell me what exactly is the point?  What’s the fucking point?  Is there an answer to Why? Or How?

It’s been 2 ½ months since my breakdown that landed me in the hospital.  I have new antidepressants, I’ve been to 9 weeks of therapy, and my therapist says I finally have it all together.  My life is all on track and finally all headed in the same direction.  

Today, though, might as well be July 4th all over again.  I’ve hit a brick wall.  The pills don’t work, and therapy was just a bunch of smoke and mirrors.  I could talk the talk and as long as I believed the bullshit, it worked.  Now, for whatever reason, the bullshit has fallen away and I’m stuck staring at the cold hard truth of reality and that is, nothing has changed.  My life still sucks.  There is no point.  NONE.

Save me the song and dance about how I have 3 beautiful children who need me.  Great. I know that, I love them, more than my life (which at this point isn’t saying much) but what about what I need?  What the fuck do I have?  I have 3 kids who need me.  I have a job that pays the bill, barely.  But that’s just it, it is JUST A JOB!!!! It’s not a career, it’s not going to go anywhere, it bores me to tears and it barely pays the bills, but it’s the best paying job I’ve had in 8 years, I can’t afford to turn my back on the money. Period.  My kids need to eat, they need a place to live, clothes to wear.  I don’t have the luxury of finding a career I love, and would give me great satisfaction. I just have to settle for jobs that allow me and my kids to live just a teeny tiny step above the poverty level.

That’s part of the problem.  I don’t have the luxury of finding satisfaction in anything.  I am forced to settle for what will get me and the kids from day to day, paycheck to paycheck.  My sister wrote just Saturday that ‘Making it through the day is wasting your life’  Why wait till tomorrow to make your life better, what’s going to change tomorrow that can’t be changed today?  I’m sure there will be emails from my sister about this, but this is the brute reality of my life.  There is not going to be anything different tomorrow than today, than yesterday, than the past fucking year.  Tomorrow will be more of the same bullshit, and the day after that, and the day after that and the next forever of tomorrows will be more of the same.

The reality of my life is that it sucks. I am doing the best I can to get from today to tomorrow and from this paycheck to the next.  Oh sure, sitting in your cushy life reading this it is so fucking easy to say ‘Well, get up and do something about it.  Change it.’  Well excuse the fuck out of me, but why exactly should I?  And How the fuck am I supposed to change it?  Every minute I’m not at work I’m strapped to my kids taking care of them, providing for them, doing for them.  You know when I get time for me?  When I happen to lock myself in the bathroom for 5 minutes.  Know what happens then?  The kids decide it’s time to fight and argue and jump on furniture, and run around inside my house, and throw things and generally break every fucking rule I have in my house.  I’m in the bathroom for 5 FUCKING MINUTES and my 6, 8 and 12 year old children can not behave!  

I’m done.  I’ve hit my brick wall and I’m done.  Fuck it all I’m done.  Tomorrow will be the same, this week will be the same, next week will be the same, next month will be the same, next year will be the same.  As far as I can see, it will all be the same.

What exactly is the fucking point?

A 12 year old Temper Tantrum

Last night my son went out to skateboard with his friends (his newest passion, the skateboard, not the friends).  There were 4 friends, 3 skateboards so that meant someone was going to have to be waiting and taking turns.

So after about an hour, Bo’s best friend, D knocks on my door, and believe it or not, the knock sounds frantic.  D said ‘You’ve got to come get Bo.  He’s not hurt or anything but you have to come get him, right now.’  I freak out a little, but try to stay calm.  D is obviously upset and needs my help with my son, so I’ve got to stay calm and assess the situation.

As I walk in the direction of where they say my son is, I see him running up the road towards home.  No blood, no broken bones, so what was the crisis?  Turns out that it was Bo’s turn to wait and watch.  Everyone was taking a turn on a skateboard and Bo had to watch, and he got mad.  He wanted to skateboard!  He didn’t want to take turns, he didn’t want to share. (None of the skateboards are his) So, he starts yelling and screaming at his friends, throwing things (rocks and sticks) at them and runs off, pissed.

At this point I’m alternating between relieved he’s not injured, (of course I’m wishing he might have been because then I could hide the evidence of my beating the daylights out of him among his other injuries), mortified that my son, MY 12 YEAR OLD son is throwing a classic temper tantrum, and pissed off because I know he’s been raised better than this.  He’s been taught to share.

I don’t lay a hand on him, but I march his ass back home.  Still trying to comprehend what is going on here.  On top of the temper tantrum, he didn’t look, or act the least bit embarrassed, or even sorry.  He still believes, in his own reality, that he was justified.  He wants to learn to skateboard and he shouldn’t have to share anything.  He didn’t even apologize to his friends. He just continued to pout and be pissed off, glaring at me and everyone else in the vicinity.

An hour later, Bo’s two friends came by the apartment, wanting to talk to him.  Fine, they can talk to him; I figure they can dish out as much guilt and justice as I can.  It might mean more coming from them.  All they had to say to him was “Yo, Dude, that was totally uncool’ and you could just watch the ego and the puffed up anger deflate.   Instead, they ended up apologizing to him for some things they said to him.  (He had yet to apologize to them.)  

I brought him back in the apartment and explained to him that I was thoroughly embarrassed by his behavior and he should be as well.  I also reminded him that he was raised better than this and he owed both boys an apology at the very least.  And then reminded him he’s not allowed to play with them for the rest of the night.  Even though his friends were willing to forgive and forget, I was not so lenient.  He stayed inside with me the rest of the evening. (after he went out and apologized to both D and M)

Of course, then he was sorry, not so much for what he’d done, but sorry it had caused him to now be excluded from having fun with his friends.  I’m not entirely sure he got it. Even now, I’m not sure he understands why his temper tantrum was wrong.

Ok, it’s alright to be upset, to not want to share, but he had to.  In this situation he had to share, he had to take turns.  If he wanted to get upset, fine.  I think it’s over reacting, but it’s his feelings.  Feelings are never wrong.  Throwing things and yelling and screaming are wrong.  Throwing things and yelling and screaming at his friends was even more wrong.

He’s at his father’s for the weekend.  By the time he comes home on Monday, the issue will be so far behind us there will be no point in revisiting it.  I was impressed with D and M both, because they apologized for their part in the whole incident and were willing to forgive and forget and continue to be Bo’s friends.  That’s true friendship.  

I don’t know if I handled it correctly, I don’t know how to help him deal with his feelings so it doesn’t happen again.  If he’s doing this kind of thing at 12 over skateboards, what kind of future do we have?  What kind of trouble is he going to cause and be in (if any) in the future as he gets bigger and older?  Am I ready for that?  Will I ever be ready? I hope I handled the situation right, I hope that in the midst of all of this he somehow got the message.  I hope that I have the patience and the nerves to deal with him as he gets bigger and older.  

It's all a matter of perspective

My sister wrote on her blog this morning that she woke up feeling like death warmed over.  The cold she had been trying to outrun had somehow snuck up on her and tagged her, good.

So, as luck would have it, it was her day to get up with the boys, who usually get up with the sun, and always wake up hungry, not just hungry, starving.  So, under much protesting from her body, she got up and attended to the masses, (or actually the two starving boys, who are also under the weather).  

The fact that her husband was still in bed led her to write this:
The fact of the matter is that I'm angry and resentful that other people in my life do not understand what a critical role I play, they don't appreciate it (me,) or if they do, they've taken a vow of silence. Thank you is not something I hear.  My job is not to do the dishes and the laundry and the grocery shopping.  My job is to raise two boys into men.  It's hard work.  Beyond hard work.  The hardest job there is.  And yet, I still get the usual, "What do we have to eat?"  This idiocy of this question is always compounded by the fact that the asker is always standing in front of an open pantry full of food when he asks the question.  "Babe, do I have any clean jeans?"  Yep.  I'm the sole keeper of this information.  "So, do you think you ought to get a job?"  Don't get me started.

So, while I read her blog with a smile on my face, I also found myself lacking in sympathy.  So, it was your day to get up with the boys.  Tomorrow it will be B’s day.  When my kids get up early, it’s me who has to get up with them, always.  When my kids are throwing up all night, it’s me that sleeps sitting up on the couch, sick child in my lap listening for the slightest sound of a gag so I can mad dash to the bathroom with them.  When there are monsters under the bed, it is me that has to brave the dark unknown and scare them away.  When it comes to feeding the masses at my house, it’s always me.  When we need clean clothes, you guessed it, it’s always me.  When it comes to homework, I got it.  When it comes to refereeing arguments, I wear that hat too.  When it comes to judge and jury, I step up to the plate.

So, you have a husband who asks you annoying questions.  At least you have a husband.  If you need a gallon of milk, B can bring one home with him. When I need a gallon of milk, I have to pile 3 kids into the car and drive 5 miles.  When I don’t feel good, there is nobody else around to help with the kids, I have to suffer through the cold and still be everything to them.  When one of them is sick, I always have to miss work and lose a day of pay.  

I wrote her the following:
While I understand your frustration with Lex Luther, I look at it as you really are blessed.  You have a husband who works hard and makes enough money to allow you to stay home with the boys and be mother/teacher/cook/healer/wonder woman.  You are doing a wonderful beautiful job raising magical amazing boys, but you're not doing it alone.
You and B take turns getting up with them in the morning.  I would almost kill for someone to take turns with me to get up and feed the kids.  I have no one.  It  matters not what kind of day I've had, how hard I've worked, what kind of mood I'm in, I have to go home and take care of 3 kids ALONE, with all the demands of homework, book orders, laundry, dinner, dishes, showers and bedtime.  AND try to find a few minutes for myself.  I have no one to cook dinner for me, I have no one to braid the girls hair at night to avoid knots the next morning.  I have no one else who can help a kindergardener, 3rd grader and 6th grader do their homework.  I can't even kill 2 birds with a single stone, as they are all on different levels studying different things.
When I get sick, nobody notices and I know there will be no relief coming later.  I don't have someone to come along and say "Hey, I'll take the kids for a little bit, you get some rest".  When they are sick at night, it's always me.  When there are monsters in their room, it's always me.  When they can't find anything to wear, it's me.  When they don't understand homework, it's me.  When they have a question or a complaint or a complement it's always me.
You may be married to Lex Luther, but you are not alone.  You have help.  You get a break,  You get the option to sleep in sometimes.  Try three kids alone.


So, while she had some legitimate complaints, it was hard for me to sympathize with her because regardless of how hard it is, she still has help.  I, on the other hand, don’t. I was really feeling as if I had failed my kids, that she was a better wife, better mother, better teacher, had smarter kids, and I felt like such a failure next to her.

I realized though, that my feelings were of my own making.  She did nothing except voice her own opinion of her own life as she lives it.    Sure B annoys her, I would be glad to have someone to share my life with.  She probably looks at me as lucky because I don’t have someone always asking me “Do I have any clean jeans?”  or “What’s for dinner?”  I actually have days, and evenings when it is just me in my apartment.  She very seldom gets any free time with no husband or kids.  

The grass always looks greener on the other side, but it still has to be mowed. It’s all a matter of perspective.

In his own time

Quickie: You want to connect, but they've put up a wall. Wait for them to take it down.

That is my ‘Yahoo’ quickie horoscope for the day.  Kind of fitting actually.

I mentioned a few posts ago that I finally got to talk to the young Knucklehead.  We have this kind of ebb and flow kind of relationship.  It’s never been really serious, it’s always been fun.  There will be months when we will talk on the phone every day, sometimes multiple times a day and see each other every week, sometimes several days in a row.  Then just as often, we will go months without talking at all, or seeing each other.  Nothing changes in our feelings, life just takes over and we ‘drift’ with the understanding that when life allows we will get back in contact with each other.  

It’s not the kind of relationship that conforms to society’s definition of ‘acceptable’ or ‘traditional’ but it works for us.  

So, shortly after my private birthday celebration (when I spent some time in the hospital, having a breakdown) we drifted apart.  Part of it was the normal ebb and flow of our friendship, part of it was my emotional state was kind of taking over both of us.  
I got help, I got healthy, or at least I am getting healthy.  I have grown, I’ve learned, I’ve healed some of the hurt from my past, I’ve let go of a lot of unnecessary baggage that I insisted on carrying around with me.  While I completely respected his ‘drifting’ as it were, I wanted to be sure that the distance between us was because of that, and not because of my mental health.  I wanted to let him know that I was better.  I am doing better.  While I can not promise there will never be another depressed episode, I can promise that I am better equipped with knowledge and tools to help me deal with it should it ever become an issue again.

So, after finally finding a way to get that message to him, I find us almost starting over, at square one.  There is no way we can deny our history.  There is no way we can pretend we haven’t cared a great deal about each other in the past.  I understand his apprehension, and I have some of my own.  After all this a relationship that started in the darkness of my life, can it survive in the light?  

Hence, the horoscope.  You want to connect, but they’ve put a wall. Wait for them to take it down.  I know that I am mentally better and healthier than I used to be.  I want to reconnect with the knucklehead and see where this relationship leads us.  He’s apprehensive and has built walls to protect himself (only natural, completely understandable) so I have to wait for him to take them down, for him to let me in, for him to learn he can trust me.  I need to wait for him to realize that I’m not going to breakdown on him again.  Patience has never been one of my stronger characteristics.  Nobody has ever accused me of being patient.  

I believe he is worth waiting for.  I believe we are worth waiting for.  I believe we can be good together and I know that rushing into something can only destroy what we have, and waiting and letting it grow at it’s own pace is for the best.

You want to connect, but they've put up a wall. Wait for them to take it down.
I just have to trust that he will take it down, brick by brick in his own time.  

It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown!

Maddison Harder, 3, climbs on Joel Holland's prize-winning-record, 1,229-pound Atlantic Giant pumpkin at the annual Safeway World Championship Pumpkin Weigh-Off in Half Moon Bay, Calif., Monday, Oct. 10, 2005


One year for Halloween our 'adopted' grandparents, the Mitchell's bought us a Huge pumpkin, but nothing quite like this. I think ours was knocking on 100 lbs. I just remember my sister being able to sit on top of it at the time.

They're going to have to use a chainsaw to carve this one!

I like this ad, I like the message behind it. It motivates me to get up off my lazy ass and move more.

Happy 6th Birthday Newt!

Today is my Baby's 6th birthday. According to her the good thing about this birthday is she finally gets to use two hands to show people how old she is.

Newt was a surprise to us. When we found out I was pregnant we weren't exactly ready for another baby, figuring we had another year yet. She got impatient and couldn't wait for our timetable. I should have paid closer attention to her then. That was to set the tone for her life.

She's never been one to wait around and do things 'when you're supposed to'. It's always been when she wanted to. Sometimes that meant early, sometimes that meant late, but always on Newt's time.

Newt makes me question everything, every life commandment I've ever held true. Who says you can't have ice cream for breakfast, or dinner or both? Once in a while it's fun to do the unexpected. Who says you can't wear stripes with plaids? They both have lines right? And isn't Pepto Bismol Pink and Barbie Pink close enough? They're both pink.

She lights up my life, makes my heart sing. She's a contradiction and a fireball. I love her to the moon, the stars and the heavens and back. Twice.

Happy Birthday Newt. I love you
Mom

I need a road map!

Ok, I will admit I am becoming obsessed with blogs.  I love to log on and click the ‘Next Blog’ button and see where I end up.  Sometimes it’s nowheresburg, sometimes it’s nutsjobville, and sometimes it is a really cool place to spend a few minutes of my day reading what other people have thought important enough in their life to post on the web.  I’m like a peeping tom, in that I love looking into other people’s lives and moving on.  

Some days I’m so busy at work I only have time to check my sister’s blog and maybe her business partner’s or her friend ‘across the pond’.  Some days I have an abundance of time to kill and will wander across several interesting blogs and get lost there.  Sometimes I bookmark the more interesting ones, but for the most part, I peek at them, read them and move on to the next one.

What I’m looking for now, is for anyone out there, anyone at all, who happens to come across this little corner of the universe, to submit to me some of your favorite blogs, or websites that you visit on a regular basis.  (Yes, my sister I am borrowing your idea, I need something to occupy my time and random surfing is starting to feel like such a waste).

So, if there is anyone out there, send me links to your favorite places to visit.  Give my surfing a sense of destination.

To my ex-husband, I hate you now and always

I don’t know who it was in your past that told you a complete blowjob with a ‘happy ending’ is  sexually satisfying for both partners. It is not.  There is nothing in it for me except a stiff neck and jaw.  It is not a little protein snack, I don’t see you swallowing it.  I don’t care what the woman do in porno flicks, in a little place I like to call REALITY, I do not get any sexual satisfaction in ‘blowing you all the way.’  

I hate you, now and for always:

Nobody wins when there are different sets of rules for each player.  I was never allowed to have friends or a life, or a night off, or any free time.  You on the other hand, had a life, friends, nothing but free time, no responsibilities.  A relationship is a partnership where both have to give and take.  It doesn’t work when one does all the taking and the other does all the giving.

I hate you, now and always:

For someone who claims to hate liars with a vengeance, you have become a very proficient one.  You tell a lie without batting an eye, and tell it so well, even you believe it.   You lied to me about your girlfriend (who never really went away), you lied to our daughters (they know that I love them, even if I don’t call them. They will never believe I don’t love them, stop trying to convince them.)  You lied about calling my boss at home to tell him what a bitch I am.  Really, the man doesn’t know you from Adam, and you made such an impression the night you stormed into the dealership 3 times ranting and raging like a lunatic, you’ve lost all credibility.  Nobody there would believe you. They would see you for what you are, a jealous insecure asshole trying desperately to control your ex wife and is pissed off she doesn’t jump when you yell.

I hate you, now and for always.

I wish I could push a red button that would strategically drop an atomic bomb on your fucking house leaving no collateral damage.  Which in effect means I would have to be sure that our daughters were with me, and that your mom’s boyfriend wasn’t there, I have no beef with him.  If your controlling manipulative bitch of a mother, and you jealous, insecure, conniving bitch of a girl friend were there too that would be an added bonus.

I wish I could cut your dick off without my name being nationally broadcasted throughout the media like Lorraine Bobbit's was. I also don't want to be criminally prosecuted. Although, without it you would be completely void of any self because your whole identity and self worth is wrapped up in that tiny little package, such as it is.  Although, if I could find a jury of my peers (and that would have to be 12 woman who have been fucked over by you, such a small number I’m sure) I’m sure I could be rewarded the Congressional Medal of
Honor.

Most of all, I wish I could rewind some Life VCR Machine...I would chose to continue to walk away after the divorce. Not just walk, but saunter, stroll, strut, run, jump, fly, dance, boogie, jog, just keep on moving away, away, away from you and never look back.  I was free of your controlling manipulative shit once, and I should have just kept on trucking.  You are so immature, insecure and self centered that you can not stand the fact that someone in the world would dare to walk away from you.  I would chose to ignore the fact that you called me the night you threatened to kill yourself.  I would have dropped everything, rushed to your side just to get the girls away from you and let you follow through with your deepest darkest desires that night. I would have left you alone that night with your own demons and let you figure them out on your own instead of once again riding to your rescue.  Lord knows you wouldn’t have lifted a finger to stop me if the roles were reversed.  I would have called your so called girlfriend at the time and told her, “You created this mess, you clean it up.  He’s no longer my problem, I divorced him, he’s your mess now. You’re welcome to him.”  I would tell you that I don’t give a shit that your new girlfriend ‘called it off’ for the umpteenth millionth time.  Maybe she got tired of your shit too.  After being as selfish in bed as you are and having nothing else to offer, it’s a wonder any woman will spend any time with you.  Wait a minute or two she’ll change her fucking mind.  You’re not my problem any longer, I divorced you.  It’s time you take responsibility for your actions.  You just need to learn to make better choices.

DID I MENTION: I HATE YOU. NOW AND ALWAYS. So, at the seasoned age of 37, I'm now back on the single's chopping block again. But I'm stronger, wiser...and ready to apply what I had to learn the hard way after 10 years of being with you: I will NEVER continue to be involved with an average-looking, red necked, truck driving, beer bellied, self centered, selfish, out of work mechanic who has erectile problems every single time we have sex. If he truly believes a complete blow job is sexually satisfying for both of us, he is sadly mistaken.  If he has to fuck me from behind so he can imagine I’m someone else, he might as well be with them.  And if he calls me Girl (because he’s afraid he’ll use the wrong name) one time in bed, I’ll tell that ‘Boy’ to hit the fucking road.
I will NEVER continue to be involved with a man who thinks sex is not only the most important aspect of a relationship, it’s the ONLY aspect in a relationship. He's a fucking male-pig who has no deep or abiding respect for women. Later, I’ll ask him ‘Can you possibly have a relationship with a woman that does not involve sex?’ and he answers “Why would I want to?”  Then I’ll know the truth about this simple minded ass.
I will NEVER continue to be involved with a man whose own mother lets him live in her basement and then tries to bribe him to turn his back on his children by promising to buy him a house and give him 5 acres of land to build it on as long as his ex wife ‘never sets foot on the property’, even though she’s the mother of his only 2 children.  When he doesn’t have the balls to tell his mother “Sorry, I can’t accept those terms because she’s the mother of my children.”  I will know then that he has no real balls of which to speak (which should be self evident because he has no real dick of which to speak either).  What balls he was born with are safe and secure in said mother’s purse.

I will NEVER continue to be involved with a man who really is NOT in touch with his soul, is NOT intellectually stimulating and only offers emotional support when it's convenient for him to do so, but makes you feel guilty for even daring to ask.  
And I will DEFINITELY get out before the sex gets lame... even if that means in the middle of our first ‘sack session’.DID YOU GET THE MEMO? I HATE YOU. NOW AND ALWAYS.  You will never have the opportunity to take advantage of me or lie to me again! Let me state that again more vehemently: YOU WILL NEVER HAVE TO OPPORTUNITY TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF ME OR LIE TO ME AGAIN!!! So go find other women, or use the stockpile of them you've already fucked, to SCREW OVER...  
I am forever grateful that your diabetes has taken away your ability to ejaculate any longer, on the off chance that the vasectomy I demanded you get didn’t work.  At least this way no other poor unsuspecting woman will be left to raise your children (whom I love more than life it’s self, because they are mine as well.  It’s not their fault they have a worthless asshole for a father) without any emotional, financial or physical help from you.  I HATE YOU. NOW AND ALWAYS.

Not overtly sexy, but a classic nonetheless.

I like to play things safe. I try to stay as close to classic as possible. Maybe because I've never believed I was anything special, and that nobody would ever notice me. Sad isn't it? Just not willing to put myself out there and stretch the boundaries, I will stay with the tried and true.

In need of girl friends

My sister, who is wise beyond her years, treasures, loves, adores her girlfriends, and has noticed my lack of them, and my desperate need for them in my life.  

I have always been ‘one of the guys’ because it’s more fun to be the center of attention there.  But it’s also empty, and meaningless, unfulfilling and lonely, because the guys only see tits and ass (and in my case there’s not much of either to see, what a disappointment).  They only see the cover, not the content.  They only see the pretty window dressing, not the soul inside.  

I know that my life is missing something vital, something important.  I know that it is possible to have deep, meaningful, strong, important, empowering, strengthening, life affirming relationships with women. I’ve seen it done.  I know it’s something I could learn a  great deal from, and something I really need in my life.  

It’s like a million dollars.  It would enrich my life, make it fun, make it easier at times, would benefit me greatly and therefore benefit my children, it would be something I would dearly treasure, something I would thoroughly enjoy, something I would love to have.  I just don’t know where to look for it or how to go about getting it.  They just don’t have girlfriend lotteries where I could win big!

So, I am in search of girlfriends, as if they could just be picked up at Wal-Mart.  I’m new to this I don’t know where to find them.  I don’t know what they would look like, act like, what it would feel like to have girlfriends.  Real girlfriends.  

Can you place personal ads for girlfriends?  Would I even know what to ask for, look for in a girlfriend?  

SWMoT (single white mother of three) looking for girlfriends to enrich my life and make it more rounded.  Must be willing to share laughs and tears with and enjoy occasional, okay, weekly nights out without men or children.  Willing to offer support, encouragement, understanding, forgiveness, love, laughter, and a shoulder to cry on in exchange for same.  Will always support each other even if we don’t always agree with each other.     Children and ex husbands are helpful but not required.  Please respond to following…
desperateforgirlfriends@needforbalance.com.