Somethings Missing

Despite having all the things you think you need, have you ever felt a deep void that you couldn't quite place your finger on? That's how I feel right now. I don't know what it is. My motivation to move forward is sluggish. And I know I need to do this, that and the other and keep it moving but I just don't have that something driving me to do it. I come home and just about every day I feel that there is something I need that's missing but I don't know what it is. On the surface and on paper all looks well - house, car, job, friends, family, health, etc. I should be fine, textbook okay. However, I am not content. This is clearly something that I cannot buy, steal, or barter for, otherwise I'd have it already and this post wouldn't exist. I just have to keep asking myself what I need, what has been moved and what I can replace it with...I guess.
Somethings missing and I don't know how to fix it
Somethings missing and I don't know what it is...
when autumn comes, it doesn't ask
it just walks in where it left you last
you never know when it starts
until theres fog inside the glass around your summer heart (c) John Mayer

Crushed out

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TxW9RyoCUsU&feature=related

and Don't Be Shy (two of my favorite songs)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s-T2gb8-nFo

Went to see Goapele last night and she was wonderful (listen above). She looked fabulous, especially considering that she's a new mom. Every time I go out I people watch and analyze. Especially mating rituals. Last night was no exception. The Conga Room was filled with absolutely beautiful women, stunning, and just as many men, if not more. I watched these women, very likely single, walk back and forth, round and round, doing the mating dance, and vying to be seen. Yet, men hugged the walls, the stage where Slum Village performed, hell, each other, lol...and otherwise, just ...oggled. The only hooking up I saw was either from couples that came in together or women literally throwing themselves at men who looked disinterested. The current mating dance sucks. The only "men" making bold moves were lesbians dressed in mens clothing. And they were super aggressive! I thought I was going to have to box two of them for trying to get a little too friendly with me in that crowd. They were 50% of the reason I wore a scowl for most of the night - a smile might get misconstrued as an invitation. The other reason was because my feet hurt like hell from having stood up for so friggin long waiting in line to get in, waiting for two unknown hip hop acts to finish spitting on the mic, waiting and walking and waiting for Goapele to finally go on. And when she finally did, I finally smiled and relaxed and sighed, lol. She truly was great. However, her act was short and so was my demeanor once she left the stage. I couldn't help it. I'm old and surly now and that scene and that crowd was not my cup o'tea. Again I ask, where do all the grown folks hang out!? Like...28 and up? Someone like him? :) I won't be going back to anything where a rapper or hip hop act is performing. Thanks. I'm totally over it.
Here's video of Goapele performing last night (I was dancing. Sorry):

and here's us at Katsuya eating dinner

I'm drained

I must've hit the snooze button on my alarm clock about three times this morning. And then I arrive at work to find my OCD boss is nitpicking, again...and it's not even 8:30am!! If this is indicative of how my day is going to go, someone kill me now. Okay, okay, it's not all bad. I am wearing a very attractive champagne garnet dress that I found on sale at Ann Taylor, which perfectly matches my purple lipstick, and my pony tail is on hit this morning so all aint lost...yet. But aye dios mio, c'mon!! Can I catch a break? Sheesh.
I'm looking forward to Friday and not just because I'll be free from work for two days. Me and two of my pals have plans to paint the town and ever since Tuesday I've been trying to figure out what I'm going to wear when we do. It's been a little while since I've hung out so even though I still have a LOT of shit to do, I'm gung ho and I'm still going. My "inbox" will never be empty anyway. Everything will be right where I left it when I get back Saturday morning :).
Good morning.

Updates

So I got my sons geometry class changed and the insurance situation is looking better. Although, I'm still going to be out of a goo-gob of money for that out-of-network deductible. The good news is that after I pay this one doc I will have satisfied my out of network deductible so the other docs will be getting paid by my insurance company and not me. Whew! Then, after I got that news, my son's cell phone bill arrived in the mail for $167, lol. I was yelling so loud that he frantically closed the living room windows so the neighbors wouldn't hear me. Then I called the number that was listed all up and down his phone bill and realized that it wasn't actually his fault. Those gatdamn twin friends of his, Alex and Austin spent the night with us that night and I do recall them on the phone with Samantha for hours. However, had I known it was HIS phone I would've deaded that nonsense and not thought it was funny. I do admit to laughing at the time because they were singing Carl Thomas to that poor girl, lol. Dammit! If I'd only known!! Anyway, mumsie to the rescue yet again. She said she'd pay $100 of it. I apologized to Miles and gave him a stern warning to be more mindful next time.

Complaints and Blessings

Complaints
#1 – Obama’s Healthcare plan is looking better and better. How the hell am i gonna have PPO insurance where I've never ever had a problem seeing any doc i want, whenever i want, without approval and then i get a statement from my insurance saying "sorry, we aint paying. you have a ginormous deductible you have to satisfy first" THE HELL!!!?? I want my money back! I'm doing all i can not to scream, kick, holler and cry on fools. And the real kicker is, I saw this doc in july, got the "we aint payin" statement yesterday, and between July and yesterday i've seen two other docs who have yet to bill. :( I pray they are at least in-network.
can you pay mah billlls, canyoupay mah medical billllls...(c) destiny's chickens

#2 – Fuck the city! How come nobody ever explains that after you buy a house it's the TAXES that will whoop your ass year after year? how come? you sign a gabillion forms thinking your mortgage is one round number, you make sure youre not fucking w/ an ARM, your shit is FIXED... and then after you get nice and settled, the city wags its fat finger like "nuh-uhn...you gotta pay me your arm and both legs, too, bitch...every year" so now your nice lil round, affordable number rises exponentially and threatens to do you in.oh the humanity.

#3 – Why, fair Eastside??? Why must i fight every year with the schools? WHY!?!? If it's not one thing it's a dozen. this year, first it was the fucking book lady - we settled on me owing them bastids $80 for books we KNOW they have somewhere. now it's the geometry teacher. me: why don't you have math homework??my son: the whole class is ghetto and i'm the only person with a book. every day our teacher takes roll then he goes out to talk to Mr. Hamm in the hallway until the bell rings.me: @$#^$R*#%&*!( *goes to work, dials up school and leaves semi-scathing, vailed threats for the counselor to change his class by next week or else i'm coming up there every gatdamn day to harrass them...before going to the school board to harrass THEM.

Blessings
#1 – She who birthed meMy mama. Maaaaaan, she's awesome. I call her up and whine and she's opening her wallet and ready to hand me all of my daddy's social security money. and then i feel guilty and tell her "mama, no!" and she argues me down and tells me I'm "gone take it and that's the end of it!" and so i do.

#2 – Men *smhMy ex and his need to feel like a hero. he's a weird one, some would say typical in that he's reluctant to do anything unless he feels like a savior, big man, NEEDED. and whenever i need him to be, he is.

#3 - I’m finna be RIIICH(er), BITCH!!I am soooooo grateful that my job is giving out raises again. WOOOO HOOOOOOO *choke, cough ...OOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Me, Kanye, and Amber Rose :(

I posted this elsewhere but why not post it here as well?
So I had the craziest dream last night that while out shopping I ran into kanye west and amber rose 0_0 and amber was traipsing around the dressing room half nekkid and kanye was back there watching her do her thing, handing her clothes and stuff. Then his mama came out of another dressing room (may she RIP) and he was so happy to see her, smiling that big ass square-jawed smile of his. I was happy for him. Then mama west started scolding him about the vma's and I saw a lone tear roll from under his dark shades down his cheek and he hugged his mama tight. That's when amber busted out of the dressing room and almost hit mama west w/ the door. All she had covering her was a shirt held up to her boobs and kanye's mama gave her the ugliest expression and then looked at him like "who is this floosie? you know better." Then she split like "toodles!"
Why I was standing there watching this whole thing escapes me, lol. Why I dreamt about folks I don't know is the fault of all the idiots constantly talking abt this vma bullshit. Even the gatdamn president! ugh. Okay, the man was rude. And? He aint the first and he wont be the last rude person on earth. They act like he shot Taylor betwixt the eyes and ran off w/ her trophy.
And now they got me dreaming about the shit :(
Everybody needs to just get a life.

A.M. Ramblings

A lot weighing heavy on my mind. I just don't have the patience for anybody's bullshit these days and I have a feeling it's going to burn a few bridges, which won't be so bad actually. A couple of them should've been burned a long time ago to keep assholes from continually invading my space, lol.
I've got the future in plain view, no more ruts or roadblocks to deal with. I'm focused, man! I think this is a result of getting older; you've seen and heard it all before so you have no desire to entertain it any longer. The bullshit, that is. It's a blessing and a curse. Some days I wish I could go back to that whimsical, everything-is-novel time of my teens and twenties but then I realize I was just scratching the surface and there's so much more to life. So now I'm on a quest for that new shit. That new and improved shit. That grown and sexy shit (<-- this phrase cracks me up and I love it, lol)

Crock Pot Season is upon us!!!

September 22 marks the official beginning of autumn and the day that I dig out my trusty crock pot, clean it off and get it ready for some delicious fall cooking :) And this website:
http://crockpot365.blogspot.com/ will be my guide to all things hearty, delicious and edible. If you don't yet own a crock pot I highly recommend that you run out and buy one, stat. It's no fuss, no burn cooking that doesn't skimp on flavor. Just prepare your ingredients, dump them in the pot, turn it on and go. You can even leave it on while you sleep. Perfect for the person on the go (me!) or someone who just doesn't have the time or desire to slave over a hot stove in a kitchen for hours (me!!).
I'm also pulling out my big tub of autumn/Halloween decor around the same time. Last year I got a total of 3 trick or treaters, which was hugely disappointing, so I won't be going crazy again this year with the candy and what-not (watch kids flood my house in some twisted stroke of luck). I will, however, still be dressing up for Halloween. Not sure as what, yet but you can bet your last 5 that I will ;) My mother, at almost-61 years old still dresses up as well.

My Aint Big Fat

She's my grandmothers older sister and my mothers aunt, whose real name is Blanche but her sisters nicknamed her "Big Fat". She insisted that if any of her neices or nephews referred to her they made sure to include "aunt" or "ainty" or "aint" in their address. Aint Big Fat is 84 years old and showing signs of dementia but when I called her yesterday she remembered me and sounded delighted to hear from me. I'd called to ask her questions about our family's past for a family history project my son is doing. At first, her daughter, Janice didn't think she'd remember much but my questions seemed to wake her up. She sounded lively as she discussed my grandparent's meeting at a "big ballroom dance" back in the early 1940s in St. Louis when the Lindy Hop and the jitter bug was all the rage. She said that when they finally finished talking my grandmother asked my grandfather "You want me to get Audrey now?" And he looked at her embarrassed because that whole time he thought he had been talking to Audrey. Earlier that night he first tried to woo Audrey who had other things in mind, though and couldn't care less about him. But hardly anyone back then could tell my aint Audrey and my grandmother apart so she didn't hold it against him when he started coming by the house almost every day just to hear her sing and eventually gathered the nerve to ask her out. After that night at the dance he swore he never got them mixed up again. They got married and had 13 kids but raised a total of 16. Three of them they adopted since they kept running away from the foster home they lived in and were always found at my grandparents' house.
Ainty talked about my great grandparents and how her father always used to say that "Mama", his wife, taught him how to read. And that he couldn't remember his birthday but was sure it must've been in June because that was around "cotton chopping time." My great grandfather died when aint Big Fat was 13 and my great grandmother followed him two years later so aint "Sista", being the oldest, continued raising her and her siblings. There were eight of them.
Aint Big Fat spent 15 years working as a telephone operator at Goodwill Industries. She married uncle "Beasely" in 1944 and they had two daughters, Janice and Cathy.
We talked for roughly an hour and I got the impression that she didn't want to get off the phone because every time I tried to sign off and end the conversation she'd ask me how someone was doing, lol. So I told her that my mother and I would come and visit her soon and that seemed to cheer her up. I'll make sure and bring my tape recorder with me, too. She's the only one left that can tell these stories and I want to make sure I get them right later on when someone asks.

Ancestry.com

I'm working on a family tree with my son. We're listing names, dates of birth, dates of death, spouses, children, the whole nine, and it's been pretty exciting. Much more than I'd anticipated. However, of course, there are missing links that naturally make me sad, angry, curious about my family's past. I can only go as far back as my great grandparents on my mothers side (I suspect some of those before them were slaves, maybe. I know 1-2 were Native American and another was Dutch), and one of my great grandmothers on my fathers side. I do recall my dad telling me once before he passed away that his grandfather had worked at the Humble Steel mines and that's where we got our last name. Not sure whether that's true or not but I have no reason not to believe him. But then it makes me wonder, if this is true, whether he was working there voluntarily or forcefully, given the history of coal and steel mines at that time forcing thousands of black men to work under horrific, worst that slavery conditions to pay off bogus debt or for little pay. But I have no one to ask and it is bugging me a little bit. Now, on my mothers side my grandmothers sister is still alive, 80-something but still alive. Last I spoke to her she was very sharp but I've heard that her mind is deteriorating so I've got to move fast. She may be my last hope to learn of my family's past. Some of it, at least.
Anyway, ancestry.com is a great site and is chock full of information that I didn't already have handy (ie, dates of birth and death of my great grandmother). If you're sketchy on your history, or even if you think you aren't, I highly recommend you to put together a family tree for yourself, your kids, your family. You may be surprised what you learn. Plus, it's good to know where and who you come from ;)

My mother is an enabler

She's giving my cousin, who she raised along with me like my sister, a hard time because my cousin wants her 17 year old son to get a job. Since July, when he didn't graduate high school with his class, he's done nothing but loaf around and get high every day. Oh, and he also has a girlfriend 3-months pregnant with his child, meaning he'll be someones dad in 6 months to top it all off. I'm not understanding my mothers venom for my cousin, considering she didn't allow us to sit still long enough to even think about loafing. So today she called me with this very displeased tone, as if with every word she had to spit, talking about how my cousin needs to put her man out and quit giving her son such a hard time. Did I mention that he didn't even graduate high school and isn't trying to go to anybody's summer school so he can at least finish? Yeah, no, he didn't and isn't. He played football and got high for two years, truly defiant and disrespectful towards his mother the whole time. Yet that's her fault, not his. The whole conversation was pissing me off so bad that I ended up hanging up on my mother. She knows she's wrong. If the shoe were on the other foot...HELL, when the shoe WAS on the other foot she behaved 10x worse than my cousin is behaving. I don't see how wanting this boy to either get a job or finish school is so deplorable. "She's hurting his feelings!" What? I couldn't deal with it any longer so...I hung up :( And really, I'm not even sorry I did. She's dead fucking wrong and it offends my entire existence that she refuses to own up to it.

School Registration SUCKS!

I'm sitting here smelling like fried onions and wet pavement, hot, sweaty and clammy. Our registration time was scheduled for 8:30 this morning and when we got there at 8:15 the line was already rounding the curb. So before I parked I had Miles jump out to go stand in line. It was already 80 degrees outside and I was aggravated. I parked, grabbed the paperwork and my purse and began walking to where he was in line when all of a sudden he sees a friend of his and DECIDES TO GET OUT OF LINE TO GO GIVE HIM DAPS! I was furious, yelled for him to get back in line but it was too late and he was paralyzed with fear. The big dummy had let 8 kids in front of us and now we were back at the end of the line. I was HEAT-ED.
So there we stood, in the heat, sun beaming down hard on us like Moses in the desert, flies and little bugs drawn to our funk, nibbling at my legs and neck, annoying the hell out of me FOR 1 HOUR only to be told once we reached the front of the line that we couldn't register because there were overdue books checked out in his name. Why they didn't mail me a note telling me this back when they mailed me the registration paperwork is beyond me. Meanwhile, I'm missing work and getting funkier by the minute as well as annoyed just KNOWING that my boss is having a couple of baby cows. So we left the line and went to the book check out spot...only to find that there was yet another friggin line! Now, we went through this same crap last year; the book lady gave me much unnecessary attitude claiming that we owed over $100 for two books that I knew for certain had been turned in, but she pretty much called me a liar and sent me on my way, kid unregistered. I had to go home and dig up my receipt then head over to his jr. high school and have them print out a statement confirming that the books had been returned, and then I had to drive back to the book lady and slam the printout on the counter in her face. So I knew I was in for some more bullshit today. I think my eye was twitching when I finally made it the front of the line but I didn't huff or puff, I was quiet as a mouse, waiting to be acknowledged, trying to remain calm. But what does this retarded, four-eyed old woman do? She looks right over my head and asks the folks behind me what they need help with. I almost committed hari kari up in there. Are you kidding me? My composure was hanging on by a thread at this point so I sternly asserted myself and this goofy broad says that she didn't see me standing right there in front of her. Long story short, she gave me bullshit and told me, in so many words, to go tell someone who cares. So I went straight to the assistant principals office. What a beautiful, marvelous woman she is. Who knew!? She straightened everything out for us, probably sensing that I was about lose my mind (up in here, up in here). She even corrected his schedule, printed it out for us, instructed the book lady to let me register by only paying the $10 fine and making payment arrangements later unless the books showed up and my boys good name was cleared, whichever came first. I was so relieved but I knew I still had a few idiots to deal with because we still weren't done. And sure enough I ended up having to cuss someone out. The fat white lady at the Attendance window. She saw that Miles had his books already and his schedule out of registration order, and she flipped because the process was to turn in paperwork, take ID photo, get schedule, get clearance to get books, get books, and then get a locker and what not. We hadn't turned in the paperwork yet, which was the first step. So she takes his schedule, asks him how he got his books so soon, chastises him and then says he's not getting his schedule back until she see's that he's cleared to have it. Um, wrong answer, bitch. And that's when I officially lost it. I went off so hard on that woman and told her to either call the assistant principal right then and there, or give me his schedule back. She gave me his schedule back. Miles was embarrassed but I couldn't give a hot damn at that moment. I only wanted to be under some air conditioning. I didn't get to work until noon.

Flashback Therapy

The other day I was reading an article in a magazine about a relatively new type of therapy that doctors are using to treat patients with PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder). Patients are instructed to relive the moments that caused their PTSD with the belief that reliving these moments over and over again and out loud will cause them less stress with each recollection and eventually result in them getting over it. To kind of sum it up.
Two patients were profiled, both women, one a rape victim and the other a victim of long term psychological abuse by her husband. The therapist asked them to tell her what happened word for word - "then he pinned me down on the bed and started removing my clothes..." the rape victim sobbed while reliving her rape out loud. The first time she told the story her stress levels were extremely high. The second time she told it they'd gone down a bit, and the third time even more.
Of course, docs are divided on this form of therapy some saying it doesn't always work to heal an individual but in some instances can even exacerbate their symptoms. Like 70% of the patients who sought therapy after the Hurricane Katrina disaster. According to the article, only 20% of Katrina survivors benefitted from this form of treatment. But reading this made me think of my 3 hour episode last week where I relived a past relationship frame by frame while trying to fall asleep. I don't know what triggered those thoughts but I couldn't stop them from snowballing, one into the other, seemingly out of my control. The mind is a marvelous yet fragile thing. Now I'm wondering if that was my mind repairing itself, sort of like a self-healing ep. Does that make sense? Like the way a wound heals into a scab, the body's ability to repair itself. I'm intrigued and plan to do more research/reading on this. Thoughts?

P.S - the article did say that some people find solace and healing just by writing about their troubles or talking to close friends and family.

The Sleep Clinic

So at 2:30am I got up and went home. Let me explain; that sleep clinic was some BULLSHIT and not at all conducive to sleep. First of all, it was a little nook of a boutique-ish shop situated in a shopping center. There were only two sleep rooms and they rivaled the shabbiest of motels for most shabbiest. The mattress was really just a big block of foam, probably from Ikea, but manageable. And the pillows were strangely hard. Now, I've experienced uncomfortable pillows before but these were akin to stuffing a pair of jeans tightly into a pillow case. Luckily, I brought my own pillow, but I figured being a sleep clinic and all that they would have at least one pillow in the room that I could double mines up with. I only brought my satin covered one since my hair would be down and I didn't want it snagging in cheap cotton but their pillow was way too hard (and I'm not being a baby about this, trust me) and doubling them tilted my neck and head up unnaturally high so I chucked it and just laid semi-flat on mine. So there I lay, with no less than a hundred wires glued to my head, neck, scalp and legs, two prongs sticking out of my nose and a "snore mic" taped to my throat, trying to drift off the sleep. I was a trooper; I started thinking happy thoughts and made the most of the situation in the name of science and my health, but as soon as I started to drift off to sleep the entire ceiling shook and the A/C kicked in like it was being jumpstarted. My heart slammed against my rib cage and my eyes shot open. That's also about the time I started to smell smoke from the nearby brush fires. I wore pajama pants and a tshirt but that little airplane-quality blanket and lone top sheet weren't keeping me warm so my muscles were tense. After about 20 minutes of trying to make do, I knocked on the wall and asked the sleep tech for another blanket. She brought me one but decided to turn the air down. So now I'm hot :/ Then I hear her in the next room talking to the other sleep patient, trying to hook his wires up. When that was done roughly 15 minutes later I tried even harder to think happy thoughts so that I could fall asleep. It was working and as I was fading I heard her yapping on the phone to someone. WTF!? I woke right up. Then the A/C jolted on again and startled the hell out of me. Then I heard a super hype cricket going to town somewhere. It was all a great big mess. By this time I was so stressed that I think it's going to be impossible for me to sleep in that place. Plus, I'm hungry and thinking about pancakes because they instructed me not to eat past 6:30pm and my last meal had been at 4:30pm. I knocked on the wall again, told the sleep tech it wasn't going to work, had her unhook me and I drove home at 2:30am with sticky gook in my head, on my face and on my neck. Once home, I took a shower, washed my hair and slept like an infant. The experiment was not a success.

There's something about Friday's that lifts me up. I know, maybe it's because I'm free and have no work tomorrow! Yes, this week was trying for me. I'm about at the end of my rope so the end of the week couldn't have come soon enough. There's far too much on my plate right now so I need to create a plan stat to organize it all and get it done. This morning I was feeling so much better than earlier this week, that I spent my extra 15 minutes curling my entire head. It's not a perfect look but it looks good enough for a beginner. I know next time I need to pay more attention to my ends.
Anyway, tomorrow night I go to the sleep clinic. They told me to bring my pj's, shower and wash my hair first, and don't use any lotion or hair products. Um...that's not going to happen. Sure, I'll shower and wash my hair but there is NO way I'm walking up in there ashy and fuzzy about the head. Nuh-uh. I wouldn't be able to sleep worrying about it, lol. Maybe that's OCD *shrug. I'm also a little worried about the atmosphere at that place. Like, can I lock my door? Am I sharing a room or alone? I may not get any sleep if I don't feel safe, which will defeat the purpose of my going. As a matter of fact, if I can't at least lock my door I may opt out and go home. But I trust that I'm not the first person to feel this way and they've probably made accommodations for folks like me, so I'm going to show up. I'm still asking though.

Last night I laid in bed and witnessed the official death of a long long term relationship. Although we've been broken up for a while now, I think it was finally really laid to rest last night. For some reason, memories, the whole of our 15 year relationship from the very beginning when I was 16 until now played in my head. How we came to be, the good and the bad, the break ups in between, and finally how we ended. In the space of three hours I laid there and watched it all play out in my head like a movie. So much clarity like never before. It wasn't until after 1am that I fell asleep and now I sit here at my desk tired as hell and practically unable to function but I'm strangely content after having relived some experiences that I wanted to forget. That I HAD forgotten. I felt the pain all over again, and in some instances two-fold because hindsight is a mother sucker. I woke up resolved on how I want to spend the rest of my life having been unsure before. To say that I'm over it would be a lie, though. I still hurt and I'm still angry about a lot of things but I'm working towards letting that go. I've been working towards that for a few years now, actually but last nights epiphany truly helped push me farther along than I was. When we finally split and ended our lease together, he acted sad and said "I don't think the nail is in the coffin for us yet?" He posed that statement as a question, I guess waiting for me to agree and give him hope. But I never responded. As of right now though, dirt is being tossed into that grave. Finally... laid to rest.

Women in Recovery

I was out running errands today when I passed a young woman standing on a corner holding a sign that read "Car wash $5, Women in Recovery." One of the items on my list of things to do today was to wash my super dirty car, so I doubled back around the block and pulled into their driveway. On my mind was killing two birds with one stone: clean car while simultaneously helping out my sisters who are trying to help themselves. When I pulled to the back of the driveway, women ranging in age from maybe 18-40, black, white, and latina were hard at work, washing and windexing with a little boom box playing the Black Eye'd Peas' "Weekend Girl." Just watching them was uplifting. There's something wonderful about watching a human being working towards recovering from whatever it was that was extinguishing their soul. A house full of healing women and I wished I could help them all somehow fulfill their dreams. I took a seat in the shade next to a little blonde girl who hunched over shyly at the other end of the bench, and waited, made a bit of small talk with whoever was listening. When my car was finished, I remembered that my next stop was to be at Goodwill to drop off two bags of clothing - one bag of clothes, one bag of shoes - since I'd just cleaned out my closet. So I asked the ladies if they accepted donations and they LIT UP! Like I was Santa Claus, lol. "She brought DoNo's yall!" one of the ladies screamed and then there was a chorus of 'thank yous' as they all surrounded the girl holding my bags . I suddenly felt that my modest donations were inadequate. I mean, I barely recall what was in those bags because when I'd packed them I didn't have recipients in mind. Pink Adidas...um, a pair of black and white sneakers, loafers, a couple of mini skirts...um... but hardly anything worthy of such excitement. So I paid double for my car wash, hopped in the car and left before they could rifle through my "DoNo's". Target was down the street so I went there to pick up a few things. Mainly, a pair of rubber rain boots for my backyard and that stupid waste of money, pool that I have to clean out. But that's another story. Anyway, on my way back home from Target I had to pass by the car wash again and this time the little shy blonde girl that I had been sitting next to was standing on the corner with a couple of others and she smiled and waved at me :) She smiled with her whole face and waved like an excited little kid. I felt absolutely fabulous! Maybe I did have some good stuff in those bags. Maybe they just appreciated the sentiment. In either case, it prompted me to go home and go through more of my clothes so tomorrow I'm taking two more bags.

Me and the Bee

Today as I walked out of my building for lunch I was attacked by a great, big, black bee. At least I think it was a bee. It was certainly big and black and buzzing. I was wearing a dress and heels today because we had a client meeting (I'm usually in flats and something less stiffy) and as soon as I stepped out into the sunshine and the parking lot I was greeted by a fat, pesky bee all in my face like it was trying to land on my nose. My first reaction was to lean back and kind of shoo at it, thinking it would realize I wasn't a flower or a tree and buzz off. But it kept coming and buzzing towards my face! There were tons of people in that parking lot and all eyes were on me. So I tried to play it off and took a few steps back, nervously smiling for my audience. But it STILL wouldn't fly away. In fact, it buzzed really loudly around my head and then darted at my face again so I ducked, screamed and ran off clutching my purse. Rudy, the guy from Operations yelled out "Run Val! RUN!" and I did. So fast that I almost came out of my shoes, lol. Finally, I managed to evade my nemesis and began walking to my car. A woman walking by me said "You weren't going to let him get you, huh?" :/ It was so embarrassing. I gave quite a few people a good laugh, including an old lady in a wheel chair who clapped and smiled at me as I walked by her and her nurse. :)

Genuine Happiness: It's socially unacceptable

I don't know why I sometimes have this need to prove to people that I'm happy. You ever find yourself feeling bad because someone else thinks that you should? Like people taking pity on you because in their mind your circumstances make them feel uncomfortable, wouldn't suit them, or are just socially viewed as indesirable? For instance, staying in on a Friday night. After working all week I can find a myriad of wonderful, creative, relaxing, happy things to do that don't require strobe lights, drunks, and thumping, wall reverberating music. Yet for some odd reason staying in comfortably at home on this particular night is socially unacceptable, lol. I love my house! I often say this as if I'm trying to convince myself but really I am trying to convince others and I don't know why. I've decorated so that my home is comfortable for me and I've done it so well that I often never want to leave. My son, young and full of curiosity and energry, hates this. He'd rather be outside 75% of the time exploring the world. But me, at 34 the only thing I'm curious about outside my door is really how comfortable my yard is to sit in. (That's on my long list of things to do, actually. Fixing up the yard) I mean, I'd love to travel and I do it as much as my money and time will allow me to but I always can't wait to get home. My feelings go like this: I came, I saw, it was wonderful! Now lets go home.
Other than the Friday night thing, people for some reason find it hard to believe that anyone (let alone a WOMAN *gasp!) can be happy being single. So much so that they've sometimes been able to convince me that I should also feel bad about it, lol. Like, woe is me, I can roll around my queen-sized bed without having to make room for anyone else :( I can read until 2am with the light on, or watch Saturday Night Live and Cheaters without someone bugging me to turn the TV off so that they can sleep. I can go days with stubble on my legs and not notice because no one is around to remind me. I can decide not to cook, go out to eat, or deliver in without consulting another person, not fight over the bathroom or my hair shedding all over it. I can wake up at 8, scatter magazines all over the bed and floor and do "research". There's no one to check in with so I seize the day and night as I please. There's also no one to worry or wonder about (I tend to labor over wondering what my lovers are doing until the devil drives me mad), or anyone to clean up after. How sad...
Nope. Nothing. Don't feel it. I've tried and as soon as I'm reminded of the aforementioned and my past relationships, I'm well aware of my contentment :) During my experiments of the last year, I've concluded that dating is overrated. I've yet to meet someone I find terribly fascinating, which is what I desire and in my current comfort zone - this house and my luxurious "me" time, I'm not at all pressed to find them. I figure one day in my peaceful oblivion I will happily stumble upon someone I like and after a whirlwind of intrigue and sex and excitement has worn thin I'll remember what I'm missing - my peaceful, free-spirited, detached existence where I get to roll around and be rude and rank with no one but myself to offend. No need to purge, merge, or compromise. But maybe next time I won't miss being single. Maybe I'll actually like my mate and won't mind him sticking around. However, you can't miss what you don't have.
Anyway, at this time in my life I can unequivocally say that I am happy. "But what about more kids and dying alone!" my silly friend might say. To which I will respond "I'll worry about the future when it gets here." In the meantime, I'm carrying on with my life as it is. Happily.

My son is at the age where he's really starting to feel himself

Last week at Penney's when we were buying him shorts he found a sleeveless slinky adidas shirt he wanted me to buy him. I'm all for him expressing himself as long as he doesn't embarrass me in the process so I was game for buying him the shirt. But he picked up a size small...and he was serious. There was no way on earth I was going to let him walk out of that store with that tight ass t-shirt so, luckily, his annoying ass dad talked him out of it over the phone and ended our arguing. He sulked a bit but got over it.
Fast forward to Saturday and we're perusing Marshall's. He comes over to me in the dress section with two Under Armour brand shirts, visibly excited. Rats, I think. He see's my apprehension and tells me that he's just interested in working out in them. And since they're relatively cheap I agree to buy them on the condition that they fit. So off to the Fitting Room we went. The black one was flattering, the white one was snug and I could see his nipples through it. Not cute. But he swears he's working out in our garage in this shit so I don't challenge it. How about just today he tried wearing that white tiddy top shirt to the dentist!? He comes traipsing into the living room in some cargo shorts, that super smedium sexy white shirt, and a hat cocked to the side looking like a zip damn fool. I just glared at him and said no. My mother wants me to encourage his freedom of expression which would be fine if he weren't out with me in public. And even if he isn't with me he looks just like me so everyone will know he's mines. I am not about to allow him to embarrass me like that. I may have to hide that white shirt. Or destroy it.