MY 'YESTER-ME'

I was looking for a specific blog entry in my badly neglected Dust Bunny blog when I got caught up in reading some of my past entries. I hardly even recognized myself as the author. The woman-child words and descriptions of daily life filled the web pages with lighthearted humor. It was obvious that she was devoted to her children and even her husband whom she affectionately and sometimes exasperatedly referred to as Dickidoo. She seemed to find humor in almost anything, and when she chose to be serious, it was a deep, emotional side that came through. She was a simple person with a big heart and a bigger laugh.



I miss her.

I've tried to lure her out but she has retreated so far into the shadows of my mind that I fear I have lost touch with her completely. Her spontaneity has been replaced by cold calculation. Her laughter is now bitter and sarcastic. She doesn't sing, not even in the shower. Doodles no longer take over bill statements. She says she loves to cook but if you ask she probably couldn't tell you when she last prepared a nice sit down dinner for the family. She scoffs at the words 'love', 'forever' and 'trust'. She has accepted that she has become an American statistic.

So this is what 'growing up' feels like. Not sure I like the person staring back at me from the mirror in my mind. I'm certainly not liking what I am growing in to but I can't blame the metamorphosis on anyone but myself. I have allowed myself to become this.

Well, if she won't come to me then maybe I'll go back for her. I can never really go back entirely for obvious reasons, but I can certainly go back to being who and what I knew and loved. If you can't love yourself then who can you love? That may sound vain, but really, if you are not happy with yourself, who you are and what you are, then you can never truly be happy in any other aspect of your life. I miss being happy, truly happy.

I miss being me.

So be warned folks, here I come... again!

Happy "BLAH DE BLAH" Day to you~

I woke up this morning and thought "Blah de blah!".  No, really, I did.  In my mind I clearly heard "Blah de blah!", and I thought "Wow, that's a nice change from the self deflating thoughts I usually harbor first thing in the morning." (yes, I really thought that too, in my internal tone of voice).

So what does one do on a 'blah de blah' kind of morning?  I don't know about anyone else but I celebrated with red velvet cake, vanilla ice cream and 2 hour old coffee, barely lighted by an unhealthy splash of hazelnut creamer.  Wondering how so many calories could weigh so little on my plate and yet multiply so greatly on my body, I picked the icing off of the cake and pushed it to the side of the plate, immediately alleviating all guilt.

Cake, ice cream, a mug of coffee and no guilt.  What better way to start the day!

What I want~

I've been flip-flopping worse than a Democratic senator on the hot seat but I think I've finally made up my mind, at least for today~

I don't want him to regret this any more than I can regret what led up to this end.  I don't need the satisfaction of saying "I told you so," since I never had the satisfaction of warning him in the first place.  I don't need to say "I was right and you were wrong." because I was never part of the discussion.  The decision was made for me and I was handed the results without choice.

All that I want is to know that every once in a while, whether he wants to admit it or not, he misses me.

If I can't have that then I'd at least like to stop missing him and what we once were~

In the mean time I'll just pull up a seat and make myself comfortable while waiting for the temperature in hell to drop....  Hey, a girl can dream can't she?

Hi, I'm 50, how are you?

Somehow, between accepting the inevitable and convincing family and friends that I was alright, I actually became a believer myself.  Somewhere along the way 50 ceased being a number and became a state of mind.  I have reached the top of the hill only to discover a mountain in the distance.  Life is full of wonderful surprises.  I intend on enjoying as many as I can while I can.

Next?!

IN PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS~

How sad is the person whose hunger is never sated, whose thirst cannot be quenched and whose longing is eternal. To be able to move forward without tainting your memories with regret is a blessing. To be happy, to be satisfied and content with what you have is a gift far greater than the temptation of ambition. A simple life is all I ever wanted and it was what I have achieved. 

I am happy. Are you?

If in doubt, it's mine!

I am finally getting around to clearing out the closet from my old room.  I dove in with great expectations of discovering long lost coinage and $'s.  As of yet I have only recovered 13¢.  I am not impressed.  I did, however, find a treasure of another kind, an old wooden Roller Derby #10 skateboard. 

Someone dug it out of the attic from a previous residence and I have been safe keeping it ever since.  Dickidoo swears it was him.  I know for a fact it wasn't me because I have claustrophobia and I will never enter a small enclosed area if I can find someone else to do it instead. 

At any rate, we both want the skateboard.  It's been in my possession all this time.  I say it's mine.  Dickidoo had a solution.  He held up a fist. 

"Rock, paper, scissors!"

You have got to be kidding!  How old is this guy again?  I mean seriously, how fricken immature! I held the skateboard behind my back possessively. 

"Huh uh, it's mine, so there!" 

End of story.  We don't need a lawyer for this.

I heard it on House so it must be true~

"As long as you're here, it's just a fight. As soon as you get a place, then it's a divorce."
(House to Wilson on why he might be dragging his feet in moving out and getting a divorce lawyer.)

I suppose I'm dragging my feet.  I suppose I should stop talking and start walking. I suppose~

I suppose that while it's true that I'm excited about my pending independence I'm actually terrified that I might not be able to make it on my own financially.  From a distance I can convince myself that I can do it and I can do without, but when the time comes I back off because it's just not feasible. 

Of course it's feasible.  And yes, it will be financially difficult but here and now, looking into the future I know it will be worth it.  If only I can convince my present self that there is no convenient, good time so it may as well be now.

I suppose~

ANTIBACTERIAL COFFEE~

I found my cup of coffee right where I left it as I rushed off to be late for work this morning.  A quick survey of the half empty, half full cup resulted in a green light and I downed the now room temperature hazelnut tainted beverage with almost, but not quite, the same enthusiasm I did this morning when it was still piping hot. Possible bacterial contamination never even crossed my mind. In two swallows it was gone, leaving just a slick mocha colored residue on the inside of my coffee mug.. and an ant carcass.

Ant carcass? 

Well, there, see... just as I suspected.  Day old coffee that's been sitting out in the elements is safe to drink because it will kill anything that tries to settle in it, including bacteria and ants!

To Observe or To Not To.

Seems like now days every day is a holiday.  Every occasion warrants a gift.  I understand Valentines but Saint Patrick's Day?  Cards and gift bags are available at all fine retailers and discount $ Stores for all your gift giving convenience. 

Anniversaries for every occasion imaginable...

What about the anniversary of the decision to divorce?  And while we're on the subject, is there a shorter term for the event because having to say 'the decision to divorce' is quite a mouthful that can surely be shortened to some idiotic, insensitive acronym of some sort.

This time last year Dickidoo was probably squirming and losing sleep over how to break the news of his life changing decision.  This time last year I was ignorantly happy in my 'good-enough' rut of a life.  It wasn't my idea of  'Happily Ever After' but it would do, or so I thought.  He thought differently.

This time this year, which is right now, Dickidoo and I remain polite friends, no benefits, no illusions and no real direction.  We're just floating with the tide, in a slow back and forth motion that gets us nowhere.  There is no fighting, no bickering, no need for secrets.  I have my dignity which is all I thought I wanted, but this is barely an existence.  I wonder if maybe we have taken two steps back.

In an effort to keep it real and focused I feel the need to mark our morbid little anniversary.  July 8th, the day my heart truly broke in half.  I wonder if he remembers the date?  Probably not.  It was probably just a blur to him.  But to me it was, for a moment in time, the moment that redefined my life.

I'm not sure if this calls for a celebratory card or a sympathetic one.  Only time will tell.  But I think there will be chocolate and alcohol involved.

CON-GRADUATION REBECCA!

Becca graduated from Mesa Ridge on May 2010. She played her violin with the Orchestra for the last time during the ceremony.  I almost didn't cry.

The next day she and about 50 of her friends, including Art's Pink Haired Girlfriend who graduated with her, celebrated at the house with 50 cans of shaving cream and 6 cases of soda pop.  I thought for sure that after a few hours the group would settle down and maybe thin out.  The party lasted 7 hours and ended up on the patio with s'mores and the hot tub.  By the time the last teenager got out of the hot tub the water level was down by 10 inches and a thick layer of shaving cream scum bubbled like a pale oil slick.

Amazingly, despite the diverse personalities and lifestyles, there was no drama, no fights (other than the sponsored and supervised shaving cream fight), and no drugs or alcohol.  Just 7 hours of good clean fun. 

That's not entirely true.  The house is trashed, and Becca had another party today so she didn't clean up like she had promised.  Well, guess what, she graduated from high school, not from house work.  She can clean up tomorrow.

Tomorrow I am going to look at a one room bunk house on a ranch about 20 minutes from here.  Supposedly it's one of the property's original buildings, which means its as old as dirt and is actually built into a hillside. In less than 12 hours I might be walking through the doorway of my future home.

Dickidoo found this place for me and is going with me to the walk-through in the morning.  He might just be trying to get me out of the way quicker but I don't care. I'm so excited I could pee!

HERE COMES SUMMER

Summer is almost upon us and yet I am not over come with the sense of dread I used to experience when the kids were younger. Gabe is never home. Zack is yak wrangling and pig corralling in New York. Art is getting ready to take off to Oregon for the summer and Becca has already begun the process for joining the Air Force after graduation. That leaves Rocky, who is also never home.

Which leaves me home with Shithound and Stupid Cat. Not cool!

I'm leaving for Georgia in a week or so for a partial Family Reunion. I'm so excited. After the cancellation of the planned Reunion I was to host this summer it wasn't certain when we could all get together. Big Sisters and Brothers in Law put their heads together, got the gears in motion and now 4 of the 6 siblings will be at my sister's house to enjoy our parents' company. Of course I will be fashionably late, but they've come to expect that of me. (Thanks to everyone who made this possible.)

And what of the rest of the summer, besides shithound and stupid cat sitting? My #1 goal is to have a Bachelorette pad in full swing by my birthday. I don't know who's more excited, me or Dickidoo. I wonder if he'll notice if I take the bed...

TESTING...

My neat-o-wow cell phone is also a teenie, tiny computer without the headaches. It comes with all kinds of applications like a flashlight, a lighter with flame (for concerts don't ya know!), a scrolling banner, a dating advice service, and yes... a blogging service. So here I am trying it out. I'll warn you now, there is no spell check on this thing.
My banner is currently bright yellow with big black scrolling letters that spell out "You're jealous!" I like to flash it at Dickidoo whose phone probably has bigger and better apps, he just doesn't know how to use them.
Well, enough about my phone, lets see if this thing works.

Kids... can't live with them and can't live with them! (nope, that's not a typo!)

All my kids lives I've been waiting for them to grow up and become self sufficient so that I could maybe have some kind of peace while at home and in their presence.  I provided them with cell phones to keep tabs on them so that I can have peace of mind when they are not in my presence.

Sucker!

Now they phone and text me constantly when we're apart and are like talking fly paper when we're together.  Very little has changed from the days when I would hide in the bathroom only to be followed with little fingers wiggling from under the door as inquisitive voices demanded to know what I was doing. 

For the past 25 years I've not had a moment's peace.

Little by little though the flock is leaving the nest and flying away.  By the end of the year it could very well just be one fledging spawn remaining.  I'm looking forward to the empty nest and setting off on my own but that will happen in it's own good time.  For now, I revel in their company, as irritating as it can be sometimes. 

I could use a little less of the guilt trip phone calls though.  Seriously Rocky, you will not freeze to death on the 1/2 mile walk home from school.  And why don't you try calling your dad's cell phone for a change huh?  You're 50% his fault too!

Good grief!

COFFEE 911

A couple of days ago I woke to the smell of dirty socks and slobbery dog, common scents in my house but usually masked in the morning by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.  On that particular morning it was just the lingering odor of a right sided ghost sock and the shithound's drool.  That was when I remembered what I had forgotten to remember the day before.

Buy more coffee!

Crap... I mean, shit!  I mean, suffering succotash.  No... DAMMIT, and I mean DAMMIT!

I could already see how my day was shaping up and it was not promising.  A quick stop at 711 took care of my immediate need and then a trip to The Store filled up the long term need. 

What awaited me in the mailbox later that day though would make my day.  A small box, addressed to me in tiny print beckoned me to open it.  I tore it open and was delighted to hold in my hands... a coffee emergency kit, a bag containing several packets of coffee grounds of various flavors (no decaf!) with the instructions:

1. Open kit.
2. Cure coffee Jones.
3. Replace usage.
4. Close kit until next emergency.

Gonna make a few emergency kits to pass out to some of my equally disorganized coffee fiends friends.  I know they'll appreciate it just as much as I.  Nothing is worse than a coffee addict going through withdrawals!My brother-in-law is like my personal FEMA.  It's so nice to be loved.  Either that or he's tired of hearing me whine about running out of coffee all the time.  What ever the case may be, it worked and peace is once again restored to the galaxy.  Thanks K.  I am now prepared.

Confessions of a Reluctant Hypochondriac.

Last week, after I slipped on the ice and landed on my back, I made light of my injuries but in reality I was scared shitless.  I remember one foot slipping out from under me and thinking "Crap, there goes my other knee!" because just days earlier I slipped on another patch of ice by the ponds and came down hard on my right knee.  But this time, even as I tried to regain my balance I could feel my other foot slipping as well.  Swoosh!  Nothing but air!  I don't know what hit first, my butt, my hands or my head.  I closed my eyes as if by doing so I could soften the landing.  It did not work.

I didn't feel pain so much as I felt the force... a powerful energy that sucked the air out of my lungs... and I remember hearing a strange sound, like something solid hitting the concrete.  That would be my head.  My body instantly tensed into a ball although in reality I was sprawled out on the ground, face up.  The dog began jumping on me.

Lassie would have gotten the neighbors to help me.  Jubilee just wanted to play.  Stupid dog!

I rolled over to protect my skull from further pounding as the bassett hound bounced on me.  I opened my eyes, half expecting to see blood and brains spilled out on the ice but the ground was bare except for a dusting of snow over the ice.  I laid on my belly, feeling the ice melt below me, for what seemed like ages.  I wished Jubilee would get Lassie, who I knew would get me help.  I just knew I was going to die out there on the ice.

I didn't feel real pain until I tried to stand up.  It felt like talons were digging into my lower spine and pulling me down.  I knew that pain, I had felt it before after an accident at the ice skating rink when I was a teenager.

I had busted my butt... again.

The bump on my head was immediate, and it was alarming.  It filled my cupped hand.  The part of my brain that was not still in shock from the blow was horrified yet amazed by the size of the bump, which was steadily growing.  In automation I went around to the car, picked up Art's Pink Haired Girlfriend, drove her to school and drove back home. By then the goose egg had developed into an ostrich egg and I was concerned.

So I googled 'concussion', certain that was what I was suffering from.  For the rest of the day I barely moved, getting up only to use the bathroom and examine my pupils.  I listened for ringing in my ears.  Was I nauseous or just hungry?  Were those stars floating across my vision or just dust in the air?  Was I going into shock or having a seizure or was it just cold?  I had taken 3 asprin before my slip... was I now bleeding out in my brain?

In all seriousness I did, at one point, entertain the idea that I could be dying.  I had no 'near death' or out of body experience.  I didn't see the 'light' and my life didn't flash before my eyes but in a moment of clarity I acknowledged the fact that I could actually be living my last moments of life on this earth.

A check list went through my still rattled mind... did everyone who needed to know that I loved them actually know without a doubt that I loved them?  Check.  Were my bills up to date?  Kind of check, nothing that my current paycheck couldn't handle.  Life insurance?  Check.  Will?  Check.  Clean underwear?  Check.

What snapped me out of it was the realization that I had a ton of dirty laundry in my room.  I couldn't die and leave someone else to sort through my dirty laundry.  I had a bunch of raunchy socks and some not so clean undies that I could never RIP knowing that someone else had to touch them.

So while my butt still hurts and my head looks like a deformed conehead, I am alive.  And I won't be dying any time soon, because I still haven't gotten to that pile of laundry in my room.

CACTH OF THE DAY~

This is what happens when you leave someone who spells with a lisp in charge of the bill board.  Most passers by don't cacth the mistake because their brains automatically correct and process the word without them even realizing the error.  I was able to cacth it because I'm anal.  Ironically I am a lousy speller.

COUNT DOWN TO 'ME'

I've got all kinds of count downs ticking in my head, my 26th Wedding Anniversary, which is also my unofficial 1st Un-Anniversary, or what ever they're calling it, there's my 50th birthday, my LAST cycle (woo hoo), and somewhere down the line in the not so distant future although no definite date has been set, is my divorce.

If someone were to tell me a year ago that I would be writing that opening paragraph I would have laughed, but it's not so funny in the here and now.

What also looms ahead is the steady decline of residents in the house. Zack is still in New York. That is just a temporary thing but I'm not so sure he'll be moving back here when the time comes. Gabe is barely ever here. Art is planning on moving out in the summer, and Becca is making plans to share an apartment with her friend after Graduation. That leaves Rocky.

Oh yeah, and the shit-hound. And of course Henry the homicidal goldfish.

And then what? Now that the shock has worn off I can honestly say that I am actually excited about the new opportunities opening up to me. Do I want to pursue my passion for the culinary arts or take a course in photography? Do I want to learn the skills to present my literary aspirations or dare I follow my dreams and just point my nose forward, going where ever it leads me?

I'm like a kid in a candy store, I want it all!

Realistically all this didn't become available to me because of my divorce and the kids moving out, I was just forced to focused on the fact that there will come a time when everyone is gone and I will be on my own. What will I do with myself then? Fact: there is life after family, and it keeps on evolving with the changing times. Fact: 50 is not too old to enjoy life or learn something new.

Eek! (screech to a halt).

But what about, you know, love... Is it necessary? Not the love of a family, I'm confident that I will always have that. I'm talking the romantic stuff. Do I really need that? I know I thrived on it when I had it, I know I miss it now that I've lost it, but do I need it to enjoy the rest of my life?

Yeah, well, I don't know. Let's just go with 'NO' and see what happens.

But just in case, I'll keep shaving my pits and legs cos you just never know...

Finally, a real bed... sort of.

I have finally gotten my bed set up, a different mattress, on a box spring and on a frame. The frame is a little bit too large for the box spring, which was discovered early on when I jumped on my bed for the first time in celebration and both mattresses... with me on top, dropped to the floor through the frame like a trap door. Just as well it's a twin bed, it's not very motion-friendly. So long as I don't move, and keep my breathing to a minimum, I should be okay. One thing's for sure, there will be no hanky panky going on here! Other than that the bed is very comfortable.

It's not my job!

I was walking through a multi-million dollar store the other day and on it's high polished floors, under a clothing rack that sported shirts more expensive than I could ever afford until next season when they show up on the racks of my favorite Thrift Store, was a dust bunny almost as big as my cat. There is a whole battalion of men who come into this store each night to tidy it up for the next business day. They are paid to do the floors, nothing else; just sweep, dust, mop and wax, and yet this small Army of men missed an 8 inch dust bunny? Perhaps it's petty on my part, but suddenly I don't feel so bad about my own house. If a whole cleaning crew can spend 8 hours a day, 40 hours a week on nothing but cleaning and they still can't get it all, then how can anyone reasonably expect one woman, in between her own 8 hour job and all the fun things that come along with raising a family of teenagers, a cat and dog to have an immaculate house?

I rest my case.

Deserprate Times or Green Coffee...

It's just 3 days in to the new year and I'm already out of coffee. I almost made a resolution never to run out of coffee... Good thing I didn't because it would really be a bad omen to fail your resolution after just 3 days. Or maybe I would have planned ahead so I wouldn't run out of coffee grounds...

Technically I didn't run out of coffee grounds. I had 4 scoops in the canister, but it was too cold to run to the store and buy some more, and I had 5 scoops of once-used grounds still in the filter in my Bunn-Omatic Brew-Omatic from yesterday... so I just reused a scoop or two.

And what a perfect pot of coffee it made! And it's earth friendly too!