The walking (working) dead

OMG, I didn't take my afternoon nap today and I am THROUGH! I feel like a zombie and can barely concentrate. My mind is...well, goo. And it's all warm and cozy in here. I feel like curling up beneath my desk a la George Costanza, lol. My eye lids weigh a ton, son! And I hear lullaby's. The Sandman is whispering to me. But I couldn't cancel my lunch date with my mentor today, and I'm glad I didn't because she imparted some much needed wonderful words of wisdom on me AND she told me that my insomnia commercial is still running !!! It's on knbc right after Poker after Dark, and she said next she's thinking about buying air time for it to air after Jimmy Kimmel :D This is over a year of air time! What the frickin frack!? I'm geeked and feel like dancing a lil jig...'cept I'm beat as hell, lol. I don't know if I'll make it to 4:30 :(
And I have to be up and alert until 10pm tonight. Oh lordy me. It's times like this that I wish I used drugs.

(Simulated) Baby Daddy

My son's going to be a father. I've signed the papers and agreed to have him bring his baby home for 5 days. It's either this or community service and he chose this. They say these things cry like every 3 or 4 hours. I don't know how I feel about that, but hey, at least I don't have to soothe the thing. He says they told him we'll have to buy it clothes. I'm thinking of just wrapping it in some of HIS clothes though. I mean, I'm not investing in baby clothes for a kid we'll only have for 5 days. He can't abuse it and he has to carry it in an assigned baby carrier, and if he gives it a tattoo or breaks a limb I have to cough up $55-150. We've been trying to figure out where it's going to sleep because we don't want to risk it falling out of his bed and subsequently showing signs of abuse. I wonder if it'll be a Black baby. His dad was trying to talk him out of it but he really doesn't want to do that community service. I've heard of this sort of thing but I doubt this program dissuades teen pregnancy. 5 days isn't nearly enough to go bonkers over being a parent. It's going to be funny watching a 6 foot 1 teen boy carry around a baby doll though.

Woe is me

There is a rodent in my garage and I am freaking the hell out. Yesterday I decided to have the boy mow the backyard while I make my list of goodwill and trash items for the city to pick up, because I do not believe in storing stuff that never sees the light of day. Holiday stuff, fine. But a bunch of bullshit that I don't even know I have until I venture into the garage, and that I never use? Not fine. It's being trashed and I'm organizing that garage and making it useful. So I go in with my notepad and pen and I notice that Seth's bag of walnut shells (we have a leopard gecko named Seth and his tank is lined with crushed walnut shells) is torn open in two, maybe three places. It's sitting on the extra stove that I have that I never got around to selling on craigslist. Well, there are little walnut pieces all over the stove...and little brown poops intermingled :(. I backed out of the garage, closed the door and went inside the house to hug my knees and call my ex, who is being rather nice to me lately for some reason unbeknownst to moi. Anyway, he told me to get rid of the food source (walnut shells) right away, put down some poison and wait for the critter to come out thirsty. If he finds water his insides will explode and he'll die somewhere. 0_0. The hell??? That wasn't the comforting talk I was expecting, lol. If I come home and find a dead rat on my lawn I am liable to have a heart attack. He said he'd come pick it up for me but that is not setting my mind at ease all that much. I'm hoping my son finds it when he comes home from school one day and calls to warn me. So, I didn't get much sleep last night worrying about this rodent (my ex thinks it's a rat but I think he just likes to scare me) getting curious and trying to find some way into my house. The anxiety is bound to kill me. So this weekend I'm having my step pops and my ex come through to go through the garage and get rid of damn near everything in there. I guess I'll lay some poison down today and go inside the house and wait...and panic every time I hear any little noise. I thought about getting a cat but I'm afraid it'll try to eat Seth. I shoulda fed my neighbors cats all those times they stopped by my porch. Dammit! I cannot deal with even the idea of rodents. I feel like bombing the whole garage to smithereens, lol.

Playing with balls

I want to play :) . It’s been YEARS since I've played volleyball but my coworker is luring me off the fence and I am seriously contemplating getting back into the gym with her and the other whipper-snappers in her vball class. I’m hoping everyone is vertically challenged like she is so I can murderize them on the court. My height may be my only advantage since I’ve crossed the big 3-oh, but we’ll see. I’m going to be her guest on the team in a couple of weeks. This should be very amusing. Like the time Hospital Yvette convinced us all to go play dodgeball in Hollywood. I won’t front, I had a GREAT time that night. It was probably the most fun I’d ever had playing any type of sport. There was just so much to take in! The movie had nothing on that night and those people. We played with the Stay Puft co-ed league http://dodgeball4ever.com/balls/. These folks take dodgeball very seriously. They rock the 80s headbands and little bitty gym shorts, the knee high socks and corny t-shirts. And they argue about plays, just like any other sport. My friend, who shall remain nameless to protect her pride and avoid potential embarrassment, was hit in the head rather hard with one of those red rubber balls and, naturally, she thought she was out. So she begins her trek over to the sidelines to wait for the game to end and lick her wounds, when this guy in a 70s pin-up girl t-shirt and little bitty gym shorts who looked remarkably like Justin Timberlake yells at her. "Fuck that! You're not out, dude! Did the ball hit your shoulder after it hit your head? Nah, fuck that, man! You're in, man! You're still in!" But she didn't want to be in, lol. And you could see it all over her confused face. Shortly after that I think she got hit in the thigh and THEN she was out, and relieved.
There were so many fabulous moments that night, like when I ended up being the last person left standing on my team. Out of nowhere there I was, standing alone at one end of the court, laughing my ass off while two guys lobbed balls at me with all of their might. Oh, yeah, big fun. I think I stayed in for about 3 minutes and then I caught one of their balls, which meant I could tag one of my teammates back into the game. I saved my team and then I was struck and had to go rest on the sidelines. It was all quite exhilirating and all this reminiscing is making me want to go play again. I would, but they want you to pay a sign up fee and um, I'm not that excited about playing. So I guess I'll always have the memories. Sorry you didn't get your trophy, ***** ;o)

Olga

I used to have this "woo-woo" friend named Olga. I say "woo-woo" because she read palms and tarot cards, made "special" candles and had her psychic on speed dial. She once took me to this place in Venice called "Audrey's Good Vibrations" where I had my chakras read. Blew me away, it was so accurate. And then, if that wasn't enough, during our lunch later that day she read my tarot and was surprisingly dead on about everything that was going on in my life at the time (I chose the cards that she read, folks. So yeah, it was pretty eerie). She helped push me out of my own way and got me breathing again at a time when I was just...lost. I was in an emotionally abusive relationship with someone who wanted to be the only person in my life. But that's another story.
She wrote poetry and performed it. Her and her husband hitch hiked from Florida to California, and she told me that he was born with a genital deformity, but he was the sweetest person she'd ever met, and she loved him, so she married him. I can't remember exactly what was wrong with him but I know that "it" didn't operate up to par. Otherwise, he seemed pretty normal. When we first met I remember her telling me about a roommate that she and her husband had sex with from time to time. According to Olga, the girl flipped her lid one day and they asked her to move. Shortly after that, Olga and her husband...Jason, I think his name was... moved into some woman's house in Malibu. This lady was a magazine editor who was intrigued by Olga and wanted to help her get her latest project off the ground. The Dream Project. By this time, she and I had begun to speak less and less but she'd email from time to time and I'd check her blog online to see how she was doing and drop a line. People flocked to her like they simply couldn't resist doing so. It was amazing to watch. Then, sometime around March, she disappeared. Right before I could fully use her as my crutch, lol. I'd come to depend on her to keep me strong enough to climb out of the lousy situation I was in, and didn't realize that it was merely the power of her suggestion that lifted me out of that muck, not her. After she left and I saw that I was ok, my spirit still in tact, it occured to me that she stayed around just as long as she was supposed to. Some people never stay present longer than absolutely necessary in order to serve their purpose in your life. She left a few fingerprints and then she was out. Last I had heard she was living in Spain and eating cake and lots of coffee for breakfast. Fast forward to last week and I stumbled across an old journal she'd bought me for Christmas. There was an inscription in it about hoping I fill the book with words and spirit and other mumbo jumbo. I hadn't, lol. But finding that journal made me wonder where she was so I googled her and discovered that she had abandoned the Dream Project and is now in London...singing. She sounds like shit, lol. Nothing spectacular at all, honestly. Like, she really has no business on a stage...but she's there, she's booking gigs, and writing songs, and she has the gall to perform them. You've got to admire that. She's doing what many people only dream about but most don't have the guts or wherewithall to actually do - live their dreams. I think maybe it's her unsual sense of freedom that's attractive to those who cling to her and follow her. They see in her what they wish for themselves. She doesn't seem to have much of a care in the world other than living her truth (<---she loved to say that). She wasn't rich as far as I could tell/knew (she made a living as a graphic designer who hated being told what to create), yet she often picked up her roots and left on one grand adventure after another at a moments notice. Like a gypsy. From the pictures it looks as though she has left Jason and is now in a relationship with a chubby lesbian. I don't envy her life but I respect her bravery, and am glad to have known her. In a way, I think she's kind of inspiring.

The man i marry

...is going to have to enjoy cooking as much, if not more, than he enjoys eating. Either that, or he'll have to have enough $$$ and no qualms about eating take-out a couple of times a week because I'm starting to hate cooking. I'm doing way too much of it and the novelty has seriously worn off. My ex and I used to alternate nights - one day it'd be my time to cook, the next would be his. Since we both worked full time it was only right that we shared the cooking. That was cool. But now it's all me, all the time, and this boy I'm raising is a greedy bottomless pit.
G. Garvin, holla at me boo! If you do all the cooking, that'd leave me with plenty of energy to make up for it with other things ;o) And since you love cooking so much, and I love eating, it's a win-win! Match. made. in. HEAVEN.
My spagetti is ready.

Censored and Reserved

It’s funny how I’m censoring myself now that I know who may be reading my thoughts, lol. I started this blog for several reasons; one of them being that I needed a place where I could share stuff that’s on my chest/going on in my life. But now that I have an idea of who’s reading, I’m not sure where to begin, or whether to begin at all! I feel like certain doors in my head should be left open only to certain people. This troubles me because, although I’m generally an open book, there are many sides of me that I’d like to share in different ways with different people. For instance, I can tell my friend Patty anything and not have to worry about being misinterpreted. However, I seldom swear when talking to her like I do when talking to Kaci. And now that someone I have a crush on may be reading, well, this problem is even more compounded. So while both sides of me are ME, neither one is me alone so I will fluctuate between the many faces of Val until (and if) I find one that fits the happy medium :) Bear with me, loves. I’m multi-faceted, multi-lingual, but the same at my core and with the same intentions at heart.
I've gotta reevaluate this blog shit.

I love when it rains

It feels like morning all day. The sun has laid lazily in the sky, dozing off and on behind the clouds for hours. Outside my front door everything is bright green except the soaked tree trunks and black mountains. Extra white, fluffy clouds encircling the San Gabriels make them look sort of like dessert and certainly make me hungry. My roof is dripping and so are my windowsills. I think I'll light a fire to complete the day, then curl up and read a good book or two, watch a movie, meditate and eat. I'm making homemade hash browns, scrambled eggs and french toast. That ought to wake my son up.
It's pajama's all day, in case you haven't guessed. I'll take a shower after this late breakfast and change into a fresh, new pair. I LOVE days like this. Especially when I'm home on them.
Yesterday I took Miles and Kai to the movies at the mall and then to dinner. Edna, Kai's mom stopped by on Saturday morning. I hadn't spoken to her in at least three years, since before middle school started when Kai and Miles attended the same school. I remember her always being too eager to drop him off somewhere. At anyone's house, it never seemed to matter. So yesterday morning she stopped by to ask me and Miles if we'd "noticed Kai buying a lot of things when he's around us." It turns out he's been stealing money from her, borrowing her debit card and going on little shopping spree's during school hours. He got busted coming out of a matinee a few weeks ago and he's charged something like $200 worth of stuff on her debit/credit card at Chipotle and Best Buy. She says he doesn't listen to her and she's at her wits end. Of course, I asked where his father was. She said he's full of excuses and they rarely ever see him. I hate hearing this - and I hear it a lot - but it also reminds me of how lucky my son is to have his father in his life. And how lucky I am that he cares enough to be.
Edna is coddling Kai. She's pretty much given up on him from the sounds of it, on parenting altogether. And when I offered to have him come over she was all too eager to dump him off, saying she'd forsake punishment for just one day, she just didn't "want to see his face."
:(

The Best for Last

Wait, do you see my heart on my sleeve?
It's been there for days on end and
it's been waiting for you
to open up yours too
baby, c'mon now
I'm trying to tell you just how
I'd like to hear the words roll out your mouth
finally
Say that it's always been me
thats made you feel a way you've never felt before
and I'm all you need
and that you'll never want more
then you'll say all of the right things
without a clue
but you'd save the best for last
like I'm the one for you

you should know that you're just a temporary fix
this is not rooted with you, it don't mean that much to me
just a filler in the space that happens to be free
how dare you think you'd get away with trying to play me?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBMHYpOkDGM

I’m lounging...

... in my new pj set, hair completely disheveled, planning to sit back, relax and chill for the remainder of the night. Or until I start to doze off. Miles Davis is playing and Boney James is up next. I should turn up the heat and take a bubble bath by candle light while this jazz is blowing. I wish I could stop time right now. So much is right.
I also wish I could live in pajamas, lol. Go to work in pajamas, play in pajamas, eat/sleep/drink/be merry in pajamas. *le sigh* Only in a perfect world.
I have eaten entirely too much junk in the past two weeks. I must get up and out bright and early for a run tomorrow before I start to look like I'm with child (not a good look if you aren't).
The three new chests I bought for the living room look spectacular. They were a sweet deal and now I have more storage space for my bulky sweaters and other stuff spilling out of my drawers. I scored big time.
Happy Valentines Day :)

Fact & Fiction

Feeling inspired, I decided to mozy on over to my neighborhood Starbucks with my laptop and what was left of my $50 gift card from Stan. To my surprise, I had just enough credit to buy myself a caramel and whipped cream-laced mocha and the last hunk of coffee cake, which added some sunshine to my rainy afternoon. I grabbed my goods when my name was called and spied the perfect seat in the corner - an extra wide armchair up against the wall, yet facing the action, which meant that I could people watch on the sly and write shit about folks without worrying about someone being able to read over my shoulder. I set up shop, got comfy, and in walked Atlas. I knew it was him, all tall, strong and handsome. Plus the fact that it was raining domestic pets outside meant that no one was holding up the heavens and, um, that's his job.
"You must be Atlas," I said
"And you the lovely Aprhodite," he said. "Where have you been??"
I closed my laptop, folded my hands and said "Waiting. Now, tell me...what have I missed?"

He's 37, a fire investigator, a shower singer and lover of Jimi Hendrix. He's originally from Tennessee, can't play the guitar, although he'd like to learn someday, not musically inclined, never married, no children, 6'6 , lives with his dog in Monrovia, and has a women's shoe fetish.
Stay tuned, hopefully we'll hang out again soon.

la di da

Today I threw my weight around and lowered my car insurance. I'm very happy about that. I got a very belated birthday surprise breakfast from my boss and coworkers and another friggin itunes gift card. It's all good, I just have no idea what I'm going to spend $50 worth of i-credit on. So, I'm open to suggestions. I found two new $200 dresses to lust over. Macy's is the devil. I just learned that I have a free ticket to the jazz fest in Vegas in April. Wooo Heeee! Gotta get gussied up for that hot date. I watched "Dan in Real Life" and ended up crying in the shower, lol. It was a brief spell, and I'm sure my hormones had something to do with it, but it really hit home. It was a really sweet, funny movie, though. Steve Carrell is wonderful. His character was a single dad, single for four years, and he just seemed sooo miserable and lonely and exasperated throughout the whole movie. I started to worry, wondering if that'll be me in a year or two :( So far, I'm still bushey tailed, happy and optimistic but watching that was kind of scary. Of course, there's a deliciously happy ending but that didnt stop me from thinking about the realness of his sitch. *sigh. So I'm preparing myself for the long haul of singledom. I figure it's going to be a LONG while before my happy ending.
I think I remember Andrea using shay butter all the time for her eczema. She looked like she dipped herself in butter religiously. I don't have eczema but my skin has been dry and itchy as hell for a while now. Like, ever since i moved into this house. It's weird. For the longest I thought it was the carpet but then i got that changed. Now I think it's the water or something, shit. It's crazy. I stay oiling myself down like i'm the tin man, lol.
It takes strength, being single. I mean, i'm holding on but for how long nobody knows. I've got hope but when I see stuff like Dan in Real Life, or have nobody but child-men coming on to me and wanting to label me a cougar, well, I just wanna ball up and cry (<--that's the pms talking. Next month I'm going to cringe when I read this). I'm not a cougar :( I want a man my own age but WHERE ARE THEY!?!?! WHY AREN'T THEY SAYING ANYTHING, the bastards!?!?! It's awful out there but I've got to stay strong. Meanwhile, this chick at my job w/ Mr. Ed choppers has ALL the luck on lock. She's 2 years divorced and just dumped someone who was wining and dining and taking her to Puerto Vallarta and Disneyland and New York for carriage rides on a whim...and then, within a few weeks she met somebody even better with more money and more clout in the entertainment industry. And I'm looking at her like "wow," slightly pissed, yet highly amused and slightly sympathetic because her grill is FUUUUCKED up and she has the body of a washboard and the conversation of a 10 year old. Yet, she seems to be winning and she's a year older than me. SO THERE'S HOPE! lol, if she can do it, I damn sure can. Right? Right. Now I'm going to go to bed so that I can get up and go to work tomorrow bright and early and listen to more of her insanely fantastic dating stories. This shit sucks.

The Fear

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q-wGMlSuX_c

Lauren and Katlyn, 2008

I miss them...

So the driver wasn't Chris Brown... or an Af Am man

I'm ashamed to say that I stayed up until close to midnight to see what would happen next (see car chase post below). I'm glad I went to bed when I did, though because this morning I found out that the driver shot and killed himself. He was an Armenian business man, depressed about something. But last night every news station reported that they suspected the driver was Chris Brown. Then this morning my mother calls me and says "Gene just called and said Chris Brown killed himself last night!" :/

I don't get it

What the hell is so exciting about watching the police chase some idiot for miles and miles? Somebody in a white Chrysler (or maybe it's a Mercedes) is doing 40 right now all over the city and it's breaking news. There are about 10 cop cars following and at least two helicopters (KCAL 9 and El Segundo PD) overhead and they still haven't laid down a spike strip to stop this idiot. They've decided not to force him/her to stop because they suspect the driver is high profile and doesn't want to be seen on TV. Um...wtf? According to KCAL 9, they're hoping the driver will pull over soon. This idiot has driven all over the city - from West Hollywood to El Segundo and is heading towards Manhattan Beach - at 40 miles per hour, for two gotdamn hours. This is the most ridiculous shit ever. But it's better than watching Gossip Girl, lol.
More idiocy I don't get and cannot stand are traffic looky-lous. The city could be trimming trees over the freeway, there could simply be traffic cones set out, or a car stalled on the side of the road, and a large number of assholes will slow down to watch, consequently causing traffic jams. I hate these people passionately. I mean, there are no bodies hanging out of cars, no guts spilled over the concrete ever, yet they're obviously hoping for such gruesomeness. They're clogging up the freeway desperately trying to get a glimpse of...something, anything, but preferably horrible and scandalous. 8 times out of 10 it's an accident. But if you've seen one accident haven't you pretty much seen them all? What's so fascinating about a mangled car? It bothers me that people can be so fucking simple. Don't they have some place to be? Ugh.
UH-OH! Breaking news! They just found out the driver is an "African-American male," lol. They are very likely going to stop this asshole now, thinking that he has stolen this very nice car. Oh, and now police believe that "this driver may be armed and dangerous." Oh how the tables have turned now that the driver has been identified as Black. Hahahaha. This is so fucking ridiculous and such a waste of taxpayer dollars. Are ten cop cars really necessary? Two hours fooling with this fool? Dios mio. Now I can't turn away, lol. I've been sucked into the rabbit hole and these newscasters are vacillating all over the place. :(

vday

Vday is right around the corner. A few years ago, my boo and I got all dressed up and went to see a bunch of fabulous women perform The Vagina Monologues in Hollywood. Yeah, I was just as shocked as you, lol. He didn't hem or haw or roll his eyes or talk any shit. And I was proud as shit that he didn't, he sat through it, and it was probably the best, and certainly the most memorable valentines day I'd ever had. I still love him for that. To me, it was a great way to show his love. He listened, he stayed awake, and I hope he understood.
Sure, it's about love (What's love got to do with it? - Tina) but Vday is also a global movement to stop violence against women and girls. V-Day is a catalyst that promotes creative events to increase awareness, raise money and revitalize the spirit of existing anti-violence organizations. V-Day generates broader attention for the fight to stop violence against women and girls, including rape, battery, incest, female genital mutilation (FGM) and sexual slavery. <---taken from here http://www.vday.org/, Eve Enslers site. Eve is the creator of the Vagina Monologues. Every year I donate to her cause, my cause, every woman's cause to end violence against women.
Coincidentally, today I heard that Chris Brown was arrested on domestic violence charges. His victim was found on the street at midnight with visible bruises and identified him as her attacker. This saddens and outrages me for so many reasons, but most notably because many people are desensitized by stories like these, they're so commonplace. Just reading the comments online are amazing. There are people who think a "little roughing up" is ok and sometimes warranted.
I'm sure this instance of DV, like many others, will get brushed off and forgotten, and the underlying cause of why DV happens and is so common won't be addressed.
I hate that I'm not surprised. I hate that I choose who to date based on their seeming likelyhood of committing violence against me (this is why I couldn't date a cop, Pat). I've never been hit. But I've been threatened and handled and chased and had things thrown at me...because of my significant others' inconsolable anger over the most minute of things, and, in case you don't know let me tell you, that is a horrible feeling - to feel powerless and threatened and afraid of someone close to you. It removes the trust from a relationship, and who wants to be with someone they don't feel they're safe with? I'd wager the majority of men have no idea what that feels like, how frustrating and painful being powerless and afraid feels, how losing your freedom to just be feels. It shifts your spirit and you are never the same.
I don't know any man physically afraid of a woman.
rant over. I'll likely edit this tomorrow when I'm fully awake. Right now, I'm barely there. G'night.

Wild Wild West

Outlaw Laura "Della Rose" Bullion might've been proud.

Ok, so maybe not since I'm certainly not planning any train or bank robberies. I'm nowhere near gully enough for all that. But I am planning on buying a gun and using it. Seriously.

I went to the gun range today and discovered how sexy shooting is. Who knew? My stepdad has been pestering me for months about buying a gun for protection since I live alone with my son. Prior to today, I gritted my teeth at the thought of owning one, handling one, or using one, but it really wasn't so bad. In fact, it was damn good. The next time I go - because I will most definitely be back - I'm going to wear a dress and see how it feels to shoot in a pair of high heels, lol (<---that's the result of watching too much TV. I'm picturing Brigitte Nielsen in Beverly Hills Cop). I just hope I don't fall on my ass. I also hope I never ever have to use it in my own home. Better to be safe than sorry, though, right?

Fortunately, I live in a very good area of town. But criminals have been known to travel. The Rose Parade queen can attest to that:

http://www.ktla.com/landing_news?Former-Rose-Queen-Reports-Burglary-While=1&blockID=182086&feedID=171

Ikea duvet covers and drapes are calling me

I put myself on a shopping fast a week ago and already I’m jonesing to spend some squalla. This is difficult. I also desperately want to go home and change into my pajama’s then crawl into bed beneath my fluffy down comforter. Mmmmm…
“He’s just not that into you” opened today. I want to go see it and I just might. The last time me and Miles went to the movies in the rain we had a great time.

Tax season...ugh.

I'm slightly shook. A very wise friend tells me that if i mess up, old unckie sam will politely send me a letter telling me where I fucked up and how to correct it. How nice, but what if I forget to include something? Sam aint gonna know if I omitted something that could likely reap me dough and keep me from owing. I don't think. Ugh. I hate this entire process. I think I'm mostly worried about not getting the maximum refund that I could get, lol. And owing. God forbid I end up owing. I called an accountant today who was highly recommended to me and this jokester quoted me $325. Haaaaheheheeeeehaaaahahahaha! I told her that I wouldn't need an appointment, thanks. What the hell? Even if I mess up doing them myself for FREE, I highly doubt my flub would cost me anywhere near $325. How hard could adding a house, a couple of retirement vehicles, and a UGMA be? She tried to justify her price by telling me about her overhead - staff, rent, tax computer programs. But hell, if she's charging everyone that much or more (because she said sometimes it's more) all of her overhead will be MUCH more than paid for. I wanted to ask her if she was throwing in a diamond necklace with her service. She must be an alcoholic drug addict.
Anyway, so I'll be visiting irs.gov this evening and weekend with a pencil in my ear and a lil green visor on :) just for kicks. Come ooooon, big money!!

I Reminisce Over You

There are things I miss about you and things I don't. There are things you had that I hope to find in everyone I meet, but I don't. I don't regret having known you or our time together. I also don't regret leaving and waking to a whole new day without you. I don't believe that love ever truly ends but I do know that it changes shape. It sometimes becomes much more than we can handle. And so we stop, restart, and begin anew. I'm beginnging a life without you. I've accepted that. And all that we once were, all that we had will remain with me for the rest of my life. It shaped who I am. I have no regrets. Thank you.

Yours truly,

Me

Toxic

Why make someone a priority who sees you as an option? I can't remember who said that, and I'm pretty sure I paraphrased it, but the sentiment is correct. I had to ask myself that question long ago and the answer wasn't so clear to me. I had no idea why I allowed myself to be mistreatd by certain people in my life, people who claimed to love me. Maybe it was lack of self-respect. Maybe it was my nature to give that drove me. I'm not sure but that quote helped change me, reading it opened my eyes and I've since stopped being a doormat for those who make it clear through their actions (or lack thereof) that they don't appreciate, let alone give a damn about me. These days, I waste no time removing them from my life and I don't consider them once they're gone. Cest la vie.

My son says I sing all the time now. I hadn't noticed but I guess he's right. I do. In the car, in the shower, while cooking dinner, while cleaning up, as soon as I come home from work... I'm happier than I've been in a long time *knock on wood*. I feel like I've won the lottery.

Not-so-sweet dreams

I keep having this crazy dream where I can't dial the phone. I don't remember who I'm trying to call but that's not as important as me not being able to call them to save my life, and I'm quite frantic about it. I'll dial the first two numbers very carefully, practically in tears I'm so nervous, and then by the third or fourth number I've misdialed and have to hang up and start all over again! This goes on and on and, for some reason, I just have to make this phone call, lol. This is a nightmare, of course.
Another one that I have is just as bizarre and I'd like to get to the bottom of it, too. I'm walking around either barefoot or with one shoe on while decked out in a ballgown. It's really disconcerting because not only is it fucking up my outfit, but my feet are cold and dusty, too. Sometimes the lone shoe is a pink, furry house shoe, which certainly does not go with a ballgown. I just remember being really distressed and embarrassed in this dream, looking for my shoes. Oh, and sometimes I end up naked with just the right shoes on. That's the worst.
So what does this all mean? Am I truly worried about a fashion faux pas and not getting through to someone by phone? Or is there a deeper meaning behind this unconscious anarchy that needs analyzing? I need a dream interpreter. I guess it might help if I mention that I usually have these the night before a big meeting.

Home, sweet home

From time to time I'll stop whatever it is I'm doing, and become really still and mindful of where I am - in my OWN home, with my name alone on the deed, and I become giddy. My mother said that my paternal grandmother often used to boast that she saved pennies to buy her home. That’s simply amazing and certainly something to be proud of. While I didn’t literally save pennies, I did work hard and shovel a LOT of shit in order to purchase mines, which makes my accomplishment just as noteworthy to me, and makes me just as proud as I imagine she was. I had no help, no cosigner, no spouse to help shoulder the financial strain, no trust fund, no help from family. It was all me, baby! In my opinion, to put in time and sweat and hard work, to sacrifice and really fight for something, grit, tooth and nail, makes receiving it much more rewarding. So, when I stop whatever I’m doing to just look around my house and smile at my accomplishment and reminisce on how far I’ve come, what I sacrificed to get here, I don’t care who’s mad, who doesn't like my house, or who thinks I should be more modest. I’m shouting to the rafters every chance I get because, after the journey I endured, I damn sure deserve to. Great things usually start with a dream and a ton of hope, and I have spent many days and nights fantasizing about my dream house, what it would look like, where it would be, how I would decorate it, how I would live in it, who would live in it with me, etc. Today I am living that dream and ready to realize others. :)

OK, NOW I care about the superbowl

I hate driving down to LA on Sundays. I usually reserve this day for unwinding, regrouping, piddling and prep'ing for the upcoming week. But my cousin and her boo are serving up lobster, crab, shrimp and champagne at their superbowl party. How could I resist? She knew just how to get me, bless her heart. So, I will be making that half hour drive down to LA today to eat, drink and be merry with a bunch of folks I don't know and couldn't care less about. Bring on the commercials and the grub. Oh, and the men bending over in jock straps and form fitting pants couldn't hurt either.