Friday, September 29, 2006

Buck up, little camper

You know what?

One, you guys are so kind; thanks for the encouragement. I had trouble getting that post to publish last night and I finally gave up, thinking it was stuck in edit-land, and then this morning I wasn't actually too sorry about that, seeing as how it was the Majorly Whiney Post of 2006, but oh well, there it was. But thank you, really.

And two, somebody around here just needs to suck it up, and since it's just me around here I'm guessin' that by somebody I mean me. So, I say, time to subjugate, or sublimate, or subliminate, or sub-something-ate, which is to say, I need to just find something else to do with all ... this. Something which will further me along the path to betterness instead of just getting crumbs all over the couch. Time to throw myself into some worthwhile pursuit! Nose to the grindstone! Elbow to the wheel! Hand to the plowshare! Or whatever, you get it. Something more effective than moping around and making you read about it.

Smooch. At least I have you, dear Internets.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Neither here nor there

I'm so impatient. I'm all, like, I need space to get over this divorce. I'm most definitely NOT going to jump into anything, I'm going to take time for myself and all that groove. And so I did, and so I have, and it's been 3 years.

Three. Years. People.

And now I feel like a normal person again. I mean, mostly. Okay, so my house is still messier than I'd like it to be, and I'm still going back and forth with my ass, and so forth and so on, but in general, I think I could actually have a healthy relationship with another adult. I really could. Would I be kinda scared? Well, yeah, but not so much that I wouldn't just enjoy being happy in the present, and what is there to lose? And I don't need anything from anyone, but it would be nice to have someone to share things with. And I think that all sounds fairly normal. The problem is, I feel like I wake up one day and feel this way and the birds are singing and I open the door and I'm all like, What? No line of men outside the door? I feel like that scene in Mary Poppins where all the nannies are lined up around the block and Mr. Banks won't let the housekeeper open the door until 9:00 sharp, and then one minute later she opens the door...and there's no one there.

This is just one of those vent-y posts. I know that tomorrow I'll get up and go for a walk really early with S, and the sunrise will be gorgeous, and then I'll get a lot of work done and I'll go do reading groups at the Boy's school, and I'll wade through the laundry and I'll pick up the Girl and we'll draw with chalk and I'll have dinner with my dear friend J and laugh and it'll be a good day. I know that. But right now ... damn, you guys. I'm just tired of being alone. I feel like I'm disappearing and nobody can do anything about it, even if they wanted to.


I've nicely asked my distant cousin to take me off her right-wing, anti-immigrant mailing list. I don't know what's up, but in the past week I've suddenly received a slew of annoying bulk mail from this woman, and it took me a while to remember that she's the waaaaay distant, gun-lovin' cousin that answered a question I posted on a geneology board a couple years back. Yaaaaay.

I hope she respects my request, but I will little part of me might get some satisfaction from what will happen if she doesn't...

I'm going to start forwarding all my StopTheNRA and John Kerry messages. Heh heh heh.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Monday, September 25, 2006

What can I say?

A real sweetheart of a blogger (and a much better movie-goer than I, sigh of envy) wrote this during an email exchange the other day:
Your life is shrouded in mystery... heh It sounds like you're dealing with lots (both good and challenging), but you keep it to yourself mostly (not that
it's a bad thing, just an observation).

And it got me to thinking, that this is true and yet oddly not. I mean, I think I have become much more open since I began blogging, and what I mean by that is, I tend to be more frank than I was before. I mean, heck. Why not be honest? I like to think that I'm still diplomatic, but I also feel that having this (more or less regular) outlet for my thoughts and feelings has made me more comfortable with them, and with myself; more myself, I guess. Or more who I'm becoming.

But this is what is happening to me in the real world, the walking around world. Here in this world, the typing at all hours of the day and night world, I am still more honest but more compartmentalized. I mean, I don't talk about my job, because come on, I read Dooce. And I talk about my kids, but not in any particular depth, or not very often. And I don't talk very much about the people in my life, because first I feel this is something of an invasion of their privacy, and I don't want one of them to bust me one day, recognizing themselves here even with the fake names and so forth.

And right now, I would really like to talk about some hard things that are happening, but I don't, because ... because they aren't really mine to tell, so much. Because I feel like I've said them before. Because I don't want the people involved to feel invaded if posts were ever to come to light. Because it's all been said before, and done before, and frankly I'm so tired of it. And the interest of relating it just isn't there. It's a story stuck in a loop, and I don't really want to be there in the loop with it. It affects me, but I like to think I have set boundaries to keep it from affecting me as much as it used to do. I think I might write something, but then? I get tired of it. You know?

And I guess that's the blogging hazard...what am I saying? What do I have to say? Why would you care anyway?

Friday, September 22, 2006

Sucking at regular posting for nearly 2 years

But seriously, it's been NUTS around here. Blah blah blah, like you're all living in the lap of leisure, I know, I know.

I posted that last post and then I hated it because that? That's Drama Queen Me. And I am soooo trying not to be a drama queen anymore. Usually, if you were here, you'd think I was less like the old Calgon chick and more like the chick in those other commercials, where everyone else is all on speed everywhere and she's just hanging out eating that piece of chocolate. Isn't it chocolate? Dude, don't ask me.

I think I had a dream last night about the purple skirt I had in high school. Man, it was so Laura Ashley. No, that isn't right. But it was something like that. One of those 80s purple cordorouy-ish mid-calf length skirts. I loved that skirt.

I really like the Boy's second-grade teacher. Man, karma is making it up to him for kindergarten, is all I can say.

I own this and I know you're jealous. Try not to be jealous.

It's getting to be Autumn people. I am totally on board with AJWP--Fall. Rocks. I can start knitting again pretty soon. Maybe tonight! Maybe while I watch Ghost Whisperer! Feel the excitement just BUSTING out all over!

S and I have started walking in the mornings at, like, 6 am. Nothing starts the day off right like an hour freezing your tush off with a good friend, especially one with that crazy dry British wit. Still living the myth, I tell you.

Peaches. Canned. Cobblered. All done. Farewell, oh Peachy Season.

I feel like sending cards. Crazy cards that make no sense. Want a card? Email me.

My son thinks it is gross to eat your dessert with the same fork you used to eat your dinner. Yet he eats boogers. Does anyone else see the irony here?

I think that's everything.

Monday, September 18, 2006

It was the best of times, it was the OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD GO TO SLEEP ALREADY!!!

Ahhh, bedtime. Such a lovely, peaceful time for one and one's offspring, non?

A warm bath and steady routine will get your little ones off to dreamland in no time.

Who comes up with this swill, I ask you?

Do you wanna know what bedtime is like at our house? My friends, the clock starts at

5:30: Homework Time. Everyone gathers at the kitchen table for a half-hour of homework, while dinner finishes cooking. Sounds cozy, doesn't it? That's because you aren't the one getting the pencil chucked at your head when the Boy gets frustrated past bearing, or cursing yourself for forgetting to defrost the pork roast, or being asked for the umpteempth time for the purple marker. Bet on falling at least 10 minutes behind schedule due to some unforeseen Maelstrom of Whining.

6:00-6:30: Dinner. You will sit down to a nice family dinner, with conversation with the kids and a real nutritional value. You will even have desert! You will not count on having the older child make a face at the main course, which will not stop him from taking a bite and deciding he likes it after all and will eat it all, but which WILL prevent his little sister from even looking at it for the rest of the meal. She, however, will take 5 hours to eat the 3 green peas that she has chosen to sustain her. Your children will then spend the next 1/2 hour continuing to pilfer food (they just bloody ate!) and working themselves up into a frenzy despite your attempts to get all Zen up in their grills. Count on being at least 45 minutes behind by the end of this phase.

6:30-7:00: Quiet play. Or, Apocalypse Now as presented by the 8-and-under crowd. Take your pick. 1 hour behind schedule.

7:00-7:30: Bath time. Quiet and soothing, as long as you don't mind soaked floors, 15 HotWheels cars in your shower, a wet cat, and strident demands to "come watch the show! About Jesus! He puts water in his mouth and DIES!" Verily. What the hell time is it now?

7:30-8: Bedtime for the little one; quiet time for the older one. Or, one more story/potty trip/drink/snack/backrub/song/hug/kiss/cuddle/refusal to sleep. We aren't even looking at clocks anymore because we shall cry if we do.

8:00-8:30: Bedtime for the older one. After which he happily drifts off to happy sleep. Ha. Ha hahahahahaaa. Ha. Oh, lookie there. It's 10:30. Time to go work.

This slight (and sarcastic) exaggeration brought to you by the letter P, the number 12, and the last 3 brain cells I have left.

Oh, and his nose is sorta broken, poor kid, but only in a cartiledgey, nothing to do but wait til it doesn't hurt anymore sorta way, thank heavens--and thanks for asking!

Friday, September 15, 2006


I dream about tornadoes, and at some point in each dream, I say to myself, Wow. I can't believe I'm finally seeing a tornado, and it isn't just a dream. What does this mean?

I want things now. Or not. Depends.

I'm going to Atlanta in December, for my uncle's surprise birthday party. I haven't seen my extended family for 20 years. Unless you count 5 minutes at the airport once. Which I don't.

The Boy's nose might be broken. We'll find out Monday. Playground. Metal bar. Face. You know the drill.

In the papers he brought home today was a sheet about helping. How would you handle the specified situation so that everyone was happy? The questions don't really matter, but his answers are telling:
1. Take terns
2. Take terns
3. You your sister you your sister you your sister you get it (or not, there was a question mark from the teacher next to that one)
4. Take terns
5. Take terns

He's good at taking turns. It's the other options for compromise that allude him at the moment. We're working on it. He'll get it.

There was a bear in the parking lot of the grocery store across the street from the Girl's preschool today, so the kids didn't get to play outside (nor after school; the preschool is only a mile from the house and they hadn't caught Gentle Ben yet, go ride your little bikes around like the Big Bear Pizza Delivery service, kids, I think not).

There are some teenagers wandering around drunk out back now, from some party somewhere nearby, I don't know where. I must be getting old because they do not amuse me. Maybe they'll amuse the bear.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

On tonight's program...

Scene: From behind me, as I start the bath; the costume: a big plastic gold crown, a gold sequin star wand, a stuffed unicorn. Sung to the tune of "Alluette".

I'm a princess, I'm a pretty princess!
I'm a princess:
A princess with no clothes!

Yep. That you are.

Scene: The Boy and Girl look at a book.
B: Gigi, that's disgusting.
G: Uh-huh.
B: And silly.
G: Uh-huh.
B: Disgusting and silly: That's a baaaaad combination.


Saturday, September 09, 2006

Three Things Meme

I've been tagged by Scrivener to do a meme, and it only took me, what, 8 days and him telling me for me to realize it. Now why is it people don't ask me to do memes? Hmmm...

1. Three people who make me laugh:
The Chica
The Boy
The Girl

2. Three things I can do:
Write backward with my left hand
Speak French
(we didn't say things I can do well, now did we?)

3. Three things I can't do:
Roll my tongue
Wiggle my ears
A cartwheel

4. Three things I'm doing right now:
Trying to figure out if that's the Boy I hear out back
Feeling sorry for myself, boo-hoo

5. Three things I want to do before I die:
Fall in love again
See my kids become happy, healthy adults
Hang glide

6. Three things I hate the most:

7. Three things that scare me:
Black widow spiders

8. Three things I don't understand:
How to make the "r" sound properly in French
My son's temperement
Why people can't just let things go

9. Three skills I'd like to learn:
Fluent French
To play the piano well
To sew well

10. Three ways to describe my personality:

11. Three things I think you should listen to:
The Asshattery song

12. Three things you should never listen to:
Nails on a blackboard
People being hurt
Any song by Paris Hilton

13. Three favorite foods:
Chocolate cake
Saag paneer
Home-made chex mix

14. Three beverages I drink regularly:
Red wine

15. Three shows I watched as a kid:
Wonder Woman
Lawrence Welk

16. Three people I'm tagging to do this
Amy (POW)
Holly (Crazy Mama)
Catherine (come on, you wanted to know what to do with the blog)

Friday, September 08, 2006

Take it as you will

Here's the thing with God and me: I like the guy. If I'm going to be totally honest, I will have to tell you that spirituality is a very large part of who I am. It's just that I'm afraid to tell you that. Because if the same is true for you? Fine. And if it isn't? Fine. But anymore, it seems most people only admit to believing in God as a preface to launching into some diatribe, and I don't want you to see me like that, because that is so not me. It seems that an admission of Christianity automatically makes you a fanatic.

But wait. You know what? I don't think that's true. Not really. Or, no more true than it ever was. It's just that...Well, it seems as though the Diatribe Tribe have more power than they used to have, and more attention, and that makes them scarier. But the odd thing is, I don't judge people of other faiths because of the fanatics that claim those faiths; I don't think that all Muslims are terrorists. I find it appalling that people of a given faith can't practice it in piece without other people making broad erroneous judgments. Those people who claim to be Christian and then go around spewing hatred and intolerance? I don't see any difference between them and Muslims who go around spewing hatred and intolerance. Or Jews who go around spewing hatred and intolerance. Or Hindus who go around...see what I mean? They just stand out more, but I don't think that means they're the majority, and by letting them hijack my religion, I'm just giving them more power. My spiritual beliefs are a huge part of who I am, and to me personally, they play a very major role in most of the decisions I make and the way I try to live my life. But unless we're having a philosophical or theological discussion, I'm not likely to bring it up in conversation, and I sure as hell am not going to judge you if you hold a different opinion than mine, just as I hope you won't judge me.

I lust after John Stewart and I can't stand Bush&Co. and I have a devotional by Joel Osteen by my bed and I read it every morning. I go to church every Sunday and dear lord I know that South Park is disgusting but I laugh until I cry every time I watch it. I swear like a sailor (when the kids aren't around) and I'm in charge of putting together the advent devotional for the church this Christmas. I teach vacation bible school every year and I vote for the candidate that seems the most liberal (whatever party they happen to be in) because I happen to take all that "love thy neighbor" stuff literally. I believe in evolution and the virgin birth. I have a rosary and a string of buddhist prayer beads and I use them both. I wish I could've had a marriage that worked but I don't believe that God is pissed at me just because I didn't. I think every family in this country should have equal rights, regardless of the age, race, gender, or marital status of the people in those families--and regarding marital status, I think if you want to get a piece of paper that certifies your commitment, I think you should be able to do so, whether you're straight or gay. I don't like abortion but I really don't like the fact that there are people who would rather illegalize it than make it unnecessary by providing free, safe birth control and sex education. (And speaking of: I really really really miss sex, dear god do I ever. People, somebody needs to help me get a date already. Hop to it!) I really don't care whether Jesus got it on with Mary Magdalene or whether he didn't, because either way it doesn't change the message: Be kind. Forgive. Believe in good. Do good. Love your life, and the people in it, and never give up hope. And yeah, I happen to go the Jesus route, but I see a lot of people of a lot of religions (and of no religion) following that same message, and frankly I think they're a lot closer to paradise than the so-called Christians who have nothing but judgment and hatred and fear in their hearts.

I don't think I'm alone, or even in the minority. People just aren't that simple. Are they?

Monday, September 04, 2006

Tell me why

I have given birth to the incarnation of Tom Sawyer.

The Boy was in big, BIG trouble for something yesterday, and got sent (ok, he got dragged, kicking and screaming) to his room, which he promptly trashed. Mm-hmm.

So today he is grounded and has lost many privileges until he cleans up his room. His sister follows him upstairs. I come up a little later to check progress, and here's what happens: The Girl bounds out of the Boy's room, puts her hands on her hips, and says, "I am going to clean up the Boy's room, and he doesn't have to pick up even one piece!"

"Oh, reeeeeally," I hiss. "And whose idea was THAT?"

"Mine!" declares the Girl. "And I am going to clean up his room for the REST of my LIFE!"

"Oh, I think not," said I. "If you want to help him, fine. But HE is most certainly going to do at least half the work."

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "You!" she shouts, "are the MEANEST! MOM! EVER!"

From inside his room, the Boy puts together a Lego. "Yeah," he says, "You aren't being very nice, Mom."

Five minutes later, they come into my room. "Mom," says the Girl, "can you open my piggy-bank so that B can count my money?"

"WHAT!?? NO! You are not giving him your bank!" She's been trying to sneak it past me for the past 5 minutes.

Is there a karmic lesson to be learned here somewhere (other than, why the hell did I think quitting therapy was a good plan)? I have some sort of wierdo flu/cold/fever thing that's been going around, so I am all Day-Quil'ed up and have no patience for lessons right now. I am about to start calling boarding schools. Do boarding schools answer the phones on Labor Day?