Saturday, July 25, 2009

Breaking the news (after all this time)

I finally got the balls to call Mama today and fill her in. It was made even harder because one of my cousins in Hawaii had severe hemorrhaging in his brain and is being kept on life support just long enough to find recipients for his organs before he will be put to rest.

We talked about my cousin. I remember him being so cool. He was infinitely patient with me, his clumsy cousin who idolized him because of his skills on the guitar and surfboard. I remember when I bought my first guitar, he came over to help me learn to play it... and he fell in love with my round back so he went out and bought an Ovation, which is the Cadillac of acoustic round back guitars.

He taught me to play the opening chords of 'Here comes the Sun', one of my favorite guitar tunes.

I miss him already.

There's nothing like real tragedy to make your own discomforts seem petty.

I hoped Mama had read my blog and was already aware of the situation but Mama doesn't really get on the computer much. She was not going to make this easy for me. Suddenly I felt like a sophmore in High School trying to figure out how to tell my parents that I had gotten a D in Algebra. I had never gotten a D on my report card before and I was devastated... not so much personally but by the thought of my parent's disappointment in me.

Mama was surprised but I didn't hear even a hint of disappointment in her voice when I told her of the pending divorce. She seemed genuinely saddened. But not disappointed.

And then there she was again, optimistic as always. How does she do that? How does she always see the bright side of the darkest room, and yet she always does and is already making plans for next year, and the year after.

I used to think I wanted to be most like my Grandmother, Baban. Now I realize that if I can be even just a little like my Mama I'm doing pretty damn good.

I wonder if Mama has Sam Elliot's phone number because I am now available to take his phone calls.

If I can't have you...

1-800-BOOBIDOO: I have a kitten.
1-800-BOOBIDOO: I can't have you. You won't let me have another baby so I got a kitten.
1-800-DICKIDOO: Bad idea. Just telling you and you know it.

1-800-BOOBIDOO: I know.
1-800-DICKIDOO: Say no.
1-800-BOOBIDOO: Too late.
1-800-DICKIDOO: Send it back.
1-800-BOOBIDOO: Look, it's either a baby, a boyfriend or a kitten and the first two are not going to happen!

So add a tiny part Siamese kitten named Smokey to the chaotic population at Loompaland. Did I also mention the two garter snakes and a new goldfish named Aku?

And guess who held the kitten last night and let it fall asleep on his chest while watching TV last night... none other than Mr. "Send It Back" himself!

Wednesday, July 22, 2009


I'm sitting on the couch right now dying one heart beat at a time, slowing bleeding to death. The phone is near by with 911 on speed dial. The broken left clicker on Dickidoo's laptop is the least of my worries. I must blog my final words.

Okay, maybe I'm being a little dramatic, but I am going through some major junk right now. I woke up never really quite fully waking up. Aunt Flo arrived last night and has been sucking the blood from my veins at an alarming rate. My heart is pounding to keep up with her demands. My head has been spinning for hours, and it might actually be enjoyable if I could keep the room from spinning with it. My arms and legs are as limp as spaghetti... cooked spaghetti. I feel like left overs from a Vampire buffet.

Actually what I'm suffering from is just pre-menopause coupled with an extra heavy menstrual cycle due to high stress levels. It sucks!

51 is the average age for menopause. That's just over 2 more years, or more importantly 25 more periods.... if I survive this one.

I need chocolate and Corona, lots of chocolate and Corona.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009


After staring at the hole in my pinstriped pants for half an hour contemplating a mending job that probably would only have taken two minutes tops, I decided upon my black brocade pants, lace tank, a denim jacket and swede ankle boots. I even brushed my hair. I wanted to look good for my 100th bust.

I was tempted to hand 'her' a balloon in celebration, complete with confetti and cake like the Dutch store did for their 10,000th. Fortunately for her I am obligated to be respectful, dang-it! At any rate I guess you could say I totally ruined her shopping experience and I'll settle for that.

The bad thing about adrenaline is that it makes me stink. Adrenaline itself doesn't stink, but it makes me perspire and that stinks! I couldn't take my jacket off because my bra strap and walkie wires would show so I had to sweat it out... and live with the stench.

Hey, maybe I burned off a couple of pounds! How cool would that be!?

100th on my 1st Anniversary. Yeah! (By the way, that's not great at all by any standard but it was a personal goal and I'm proud of it.)

Monday, July 20, 2009

The New Normal

So life is slowly starting to settle into a new 'normal'. Nephew Joseph has returned to his family in the south. I still look for him riding around the cul de sac when I drive down the street. Gabe finally has a room to sleep in. I'm bunking in Rocky's room for obvious reasons.

Just for the record Dickidoo is not leaving me because of another woman. He's leaving me because our marriage has failed. He is in love with another woman because he no longer loves me. If he still loved me this would not be an issue. I'm not taking this as well as it may appear. Believe me, I had my 2 day long pity party and still have relapses on a daily basis. In my mind I say things that are neither graceful nor amusing. If I had a genie there would be two new bull frogs in the pond. My mother drummed it in to my head 'if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all!' The funny thing is now that we have accepted the inevitable we have a better relationship than we have in quite some time. Perhaps we were just meant to be a young couple and then later on just friends. At any rate, without speaking for him, I personally have been happier since this all came out in the open than I have been in 5 years and that alone says more than words could.

At work I am preparing to celebrate my 1st Anniversary at my new position (today, yay!)... and also hope to make my 100th 'stop' (I'm at 99). In anticipation of the event I went sniffing through the laundry pile to find something decent to wear on this special occasion. I found the pinstriped slacks that I wore the other day and shook them out. Then to my horror I spotted a big gaping hole in the back of the pants, not in the front where the zipper should be. Did I really wear these pants to work with a split in the seam? I had calico polka dot panties on that day... Oh Lord, I hope I never know.

As for future plans, well I guess it's back to the drawing board. My 50 Year bucket list has taken a new direction. Gone are the mandolin lessons, the flight in the hot air balloon and the fishing trip in Alaska. Realistically speaking I think just being out and on my own two feet will be a good start for now. Starting over at the age of 50 is a bit scary but I'll still have my best friend (who is VERY lucky that I don't have a genie otherwise he would be croaking quite happily next to his sexy little amphibian sweetheart out by the pond down the way).

Song of the Day: I Was Already Gone, by Sugarland.

Thursday, July 16, 2009


Life has a new surreal quality to it now. Everything looks the same but it couldn't be more different. Steve and I agreed to be friends and we are but I'm sensing a strain that didn't exist before.


For the record though, our failed relationship is not based on a whim. We have not been consistently happy for several years. It was just a matter of time. We'd have good spells, then something would happen that would knock us off kilter for a while. Usually we would right ourselves, apologize, kiss and make up. This time it's different. This time there is no kissing and making up. It's time to count our losses and let go before we destroy each other.

It is possible that things may not work out the way Steve hopes. He is well aware of this. I can't blame him for wanting to try. 'Anything worth having is worth fighting for.' We've been fighting to make 'us' work for a long time. It's time to accept that our time is passed. It's time for Steve to fight for something else. If it doesn't work out as hoped, the fact will remain~ our time has passed and it's time to move on.

I'm ready to move on. Not financially... my credit sucks! Emotionally though I find myself getting more confident with each passing day. I can talk without getting choked up and teary eyed. I no longer feel like a failure... broken and disposable. It's not the end of my life, but the beginning of a new exciting phase.

Now if I can just get people to understand that I'm getting a divorce, not dying from some incurable disease. I'm not in the market for a new love. I don't do blind dates, nor am I interested in a referral for eHarmony. Really, I'm fine!

But I swear if I hear another sappy love song I will puke!

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Today revisited~

I just read my last post. Day off, NCIS marathon, 'life is good'.


I never should have gotten up off of the couch when Dickidoo came home a couple of hours after I made that post and suggested a ride. Of course it would only have prolonged the inevitable but at least I could have enjoyed the rest of my marathon while I still cared.

'I'm not happy', he said.

'Ditto,' I replied.

'I still care for you but I don't love you anymore.'

(Phew! Is that all? Well, at least there isn't another woman!)

'There's someone else and I can't stop thinking about her.'

'Her' is a woman from his past, his childhood sweetheart. Long story short, they have rekindled their love for each other. Unfortunately they are both still married.

I thought I was ready for anything. I was ready for everything except that he was still in love with her. I could have dealt with anyone else but her. There I was thinking I was too fat and unappealing for him, or maybe he had ED, thus his distraction and my involuntary re-virginhood but it turned out not to be about me at all.

No, it was something more powerful than that. It only took him more than 25 years but he finally figured it out, he's still in love with her. Secretly I hope it's just the romantic memory and that once they are back together and she realized that he farts in his sleep, is a sub-conscious public nose picker and doesn't flush the toilet that she'll want nothing to do with him. Then I realize that because I loved him I had accepted those less than romantic qualities about him. If their love is as enduring as it appears to be it won't matter.

Still, I hope she's a farter too, and they can sit on the porch in their rocking chairs and watch the sun set rocking and farting like two happy hillbillies.

(That was supposed to be our future, dammit.)

So how do I feel about this? 'Feel' may be the wrong word. I haven't 'felt' much since I was so wickedly lured away from my NCIS marathon. It's like somebody has pulled the plug on my future leaving just a blank or staticky screen. I struggle to restore power and bring things back in to focus but just as I gain control and think 'Yeah, I can do this,' the power flickers and I'm in the dark again. Crying helps. So did drinking until Steve got rid of my 5 liter box of wine after I got sloshed and suggested that he do so to keep me from developing a bad habit.

25 years of 'in one ear and out the other' and he picks now to start listening to me! I could have used some wine last night. And where's my tequila? I didn't say anything about getting rid of the damn tequila! Grrrr!

I wish Steve was being a butt about all this, it might be easy to handle if I were on the defense, but he has been very honest and sensitive. I wish she were a hussy, but I've met her family and know she's comes from good people. I wish I could hate Steve and her for kicking me out of the fairytale but I can't because I honestly want Steve to be happy again. Not gloriously happy but he is a good man and should be happy. For that matter I happen to believe that I am a good woman and therefore deserve to be happy as well, but in this case we can't both be happy so it may as well be him since he's already got a plan.

The kids know and weren't particularly surprised. They are pre-conditioned by the accepted norm in society, plus they are all very mature so they understand that sometimes things just don't work out and families become separated. They are all making plans for me moving in with them when they move out. They have obviously forgotten my vow to let them change my Depends when incontinence sets in. For now they are just concerned with making me feel loved.

Its weird. This time last week I thought I was set for life. Now I'm plagued with thoughts of where I shall live once we sell this big old house. I'm almost 50. I'll never make enough to buy a house which means my less than generous paycheck is going to have to squeeze out rent for the rest of my life. I'm going to turn in to the bitchy old lady in the downstairs apartment who is always banging on the ceiling with a broomstick for quiet.

The first time Steve proposed to me he said and I quote: 'I want to watch our hair grow silver together.' That was sooooooo romantic... and as predicted we have both aged gracefully. He has more silver than I do, but mine is longer. Poor guy must have crapped his pants recently when he realized that I had dyed my hair to cover all the white and he'd have to wait longer to fulfil the prophecy so he could call it quits and get on with his life.

Every day Steve asks me if I'm okay to which I lie and say 'yes' but I'm not fine. My 25 year old romance has been replaced by an older, deeper love and I am nowhere in the picture. It's not even a 'happily ever after' story yet since it is not possible for Steve and 'her' to be together for the time being and they must wait.

I wish someone would love me like that, with a love so powerful that it endured a quarter of a century separation and countless obstacles but it still prevailed. I can understand and respect that kind of true love. It just would have been nice if it could have been for me.

So now that I am soon-to-be-single, what now? Zack's already thrown in the name of a replacement.

Are you fricken nuts because I sure am not!

No. For every heart there is one true love. Ideally the match is mutual but occasionally, as in this case, there is a mismatch and while my heart chose Steve, his heart was meant for another. No regrets though. I've got 5 wonderful kids and many great memories out of it. And now that we aren't so busy feeling unhappy with our marriage and have accepted that we cannot force it I think I have found a new friend in Steve. It's good to hear him laugh again.

But please... please, please please let her have morning breath and night-gas!

Wednesday, July 8, 2009


The first time I peeked at my alarm clock it read 9:15 am. Somewhere outside the bedroom door an obnoxious basshit hound barked for attention. I made a mental note to ignore further canine outbursts. That proved to be easier than I could have imagined and the next time I peeked at the alarm clock it was 10:30. The dog was still barking from somewhere beyond the bedroom door. I suspected the Canine-English translation was something similar to:

"Hey, get your fat ass out of bed and let me outside, I have to pee!"

I don't know why she was barking at me because there were 3 other people out in the living room. Dang dog. Dang kids.

Breakfast was 2 cups of coffee. Lunch consisted of a coconut covered 'Snowball' and two black licorice whips while sprawled out on the couch in front of the TV.

An 8 hour marathon of NCIS on my day off, life is good!

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Under where?

Fashion fads come and go. In my job I see the trends ebb in and out like the tide. Fluorescent hair, facial piercings, multi layered shirts, skin tight jeans, mismatched shoes, full body tattoos ~ all in an effort to appear cool.

I view most of these passing fancies with mild humor. Young and old alike, trying so hard to keep up with the Jones, who are trying to keep up with the Smiths.

I'm still wearing last decades jeans (yay, they fit!) but I do have a purple iPod with matching earbuds, does that make me cool?

The one fashion craze that I'm having a problem accepting is the displaying of the undies. Girls and women prance around with their bra straps deliberately showing, silently begging us to notice their neon animal print. Low cut jeans and high cut thongs that disappear into proud plumbers cracks. Guys waddle around with their feet far apart in an effort to keep their jeans in the perfect height above their knees but below their butt. I'm still trying to figure out why they even bother with a belt.

That's not fashion. That's just an attempt to justify sloppy, lazy dressing.

And for the record, I never thought Picasso was very talented either.