All that, and more

You might have noticed: I haven't been here much lately.

I started this blog back in the year of our lord just-got-divorced-and-need-to-figure-that-out. I started it as a sort of whispering out into the nothing, rather than a bottling everything up. And it helped a lot. And what do you know, the nothing turned out not to be nothing after all. I met so many astonishingly lovely other whisperers.

The Blog Whisperers! On CBS! I think it could work!

As with all my good intentions, my posting here has become somewhat...spotty? Yeah, let's go with spotty. It isn't that I'm not writing, or venting, or even social networking (Facebook, you crack pipe, I'm talking about you). It's just...

Here's the deal, or as close as I can come to it. I started this blog because my heart was broken, and I didn't know where to put it while I tried to piece it back together. My hands were full, you see.

My hands are still full, believe you me. Probably fuller, all things considered. I own my own business now. I'm a few weeks away from finishing a novel, which I (not unlike that matchmaker from "Fiddler on the Roof") will then schlep around, trying to hook it up with its one true love: some nice man or woman who will have it and hold it and make an honest book of it. I'm the full-time breadwinner of a family of four and full-time everything-person of two small humans who, despite what they've been through, are still wildly amazing, growing, thriving little people.

So now the small era of my life that signaled the interim between "married" and "widowed"--if I get to call it that, and you know what, I think I do--has ended, and so too, I think, must this little blip of anonymity that helped me get through it. I think it's time to let this particular blog to go to God (as we say when we found something unidentifiable in the back of the fridge), or wherever it needs to go, along with that particular piece of my life. That seems best, don't you think?

So, thank you for stopping by, and thank you for being lovely, you marvelous crazy nuts you. If you and I have already made our acquaintances (i.e., you know my real name), I'm on Facebook (and God help me, Twitter--it's mostly useless just now, but then someone once said that about the Blogs). I'm also in the process of starting another blog, the contents of which might or might not resemble the types of things I wrote here. I will probably keep stalking some of the people you see listed over to the left. (Thought you were going to get out of that one, didn't you?) If you want to know where to find me, email me. I'll keep that address open.

Oh, and Dr. B? Peeps are still NASTY. Some things, my dears, will never change.

xoxoxo and Namaste,
PK

America, the Universe, Sweet Baby Jesus...

...THANK YOU!!!!!

OMG. I am so, so relieved and thrilled and just verklempt. After much sorrow, rejoicing.

Smoochies!
PK

Go VOTE!

Tomorrow will either be the happiest or saddest birthday EVER.

Go vote. Give me a happy birthday. Dammit, I deserve it.

A telling question

Who would you rather your 13-year old daughter listen to: (Old School) Britney or (Any School) Pink?

You betcha there's a right answer.

Things that are distressing me...

...in no particular order:
1) The fact that one of the insurance policies, which the company assured me would pay, is not going to pay.
2) The fact that #1 bothers me as much as it does. It's just effing money, for Pete's sake.
3) The idea the McCain could actually become president. Dear God. I honestly don't think I could take that.
4) My son's mental health.
5) My fat ass.
6) My hair. Seriously. I know. Shallow.
7) My inability to chill the fuck out.

Chupacabra

You know what makes me happy? The Chupacabra.
Seriously.
I am going to try and work the Chupacabra into everything I write from now on. Because there is just nothing better than a goat-sucking monster.

Funny

Today, the Girl stood in the middle of the kitchen and screamed at the top of her lungs, full of righteous indignation:
"QUIT YELLING AT MEEEEEEEE!!!!!"

Which was sort of funny seeing as how, you know, I wasn't yelling at the time.

A tip: Don't laugh at indignant 5-year-olds. Oh, the tears! The recrimination! It wasn't funny! Laughing at her IS. NOT. FUNNY!

Ah, but honey. It's the laughing at the not-funny stuff that gets you through life.

I would have tried to tell her that, but she was sort of busy threatening to poke me in the butt with her miniature American flag. I think there's some sort of message there, mayhaps?

Things are going. We're sifting through the business of death. The Boy punched a kid at school last week. The kids are taking ice skating lessons. I swear to God that I heard their father come in the house last week, in the middle of the day, while I was typing away on some job. I actually heard the door open, and I heard him call out "Hellooo?" in this funny way he used to do. I nearly answered, then I stopped, then I really stopped. Then I answered anyway. Nobody answered back.

I want to thank everyone who has sent us kindness--kind thoughts, kind words, kind deeds. It's odd to me that I started this stupid blog as a sort of self-motivating journal to get through some of the harshest emotions after my marriage fell apart. And now it's like I don't know what to say. Probably because I'm not sure what to think. Or, I am very purposefully not thinking. Except for when I've planted my arse on Dr. Zen's comfy chair. I think a bit then. Then I go sneak a cigarette and quit thinking for another week.

I guess that's okay, too.

I'll loan you mine