The Vagaries Of Getting Older

Originally published 8/2/06

I told you there would be unexplainable gaps in my blog. But honestly I forgot I even had one until today, when my brother sent me a link to his and I went to post a comment for him... when the window popped up with my username I stared at it.

Then I went, "oh".

When I clicked on it and saw my last blog post was in September, and that it began with a string of expletives I wasn't sure I wanted my brother to see it, but hey. I'm too lazy to do anything about it right now and it was my honest self at the time.

So anyway. I have a blog, might as well use it.

Quick update: Sold our old house in W'boro and bought an unfinished one in the Smokies. We or I should say ET is working on it, and we have been fortunate to find a couple of independent contractors to do the more difficult work on the cheap. Just found out today the rough in plumbing is done whoo hoo!

In the meantime we have rented a little house down by the river we affectionately refer to as the Love Shack. It will some day slide right down the hill, hopefully we won't be in it. You can place a tennis ball on the LR floor and it will roll (at an alarming speed) into the dining room. We are very isolated, and have to drive 30 min. to the nearest town. We counted up the souls within our community here, there are now 11 of us since somebody's son moved in with them last week.

YaYa is 3 now and shows all the signs of becoming a very beautiful young lady.

Maybe I'll post some of my forum comments here later. If I remember.

Something Is Seriously Wrong Here

Originally Published 6/7/05

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit I yell as soon as I open my eyes and see the red digital numbers "6:44" on the clock...."Shit, shit, shit, shit" I mutter while searching frantically for some clothes to put on. Terry kept saying "what? Talk to me!" etc. I literally could not speak any word at all except shit. He said "you took my shirt".

He was supposed to get me up when HE got up, at 5am. Oh, shit shit shit shit shit. He says I never told him any such thing.

I ran down the stairs in a tshirt and sweatpants braless, grabbed my keys. My mouth, eyes and brain were still not functioning. Terry's truck was parked behind me and I couldn't get out of the driveway. My heart was racing and I was sweating in 90% humidity already.

Oh, shit shit shit shit shit.

30 minutes later I am pulling into my second Waffle House searching searching for her minivan. I drive over to the gas station and buy some Winstons.

I call Billy on my cell phone which I finally located at the bottom of my purse, nearly dead battery. Just then I see a white minivan pull out of the McDonald's across the street and tell him I think I see her, gotta go, if she calls tell her to call me.

I will tell you about it later if I can ever get my daughter to speak to me and make it up to her somehow. I hate myself too much to even write this now.

P.S.: Maybe I need a little dose of trepanation. Ugh!

Oh Crap Not Again

Originally Published 6/3/05

Life was looking damn near perfect. Earlier today we'd closed on the sale of our old storefront property, paid off our two vehicles and credit card and here we sat, debt-free with a big pile in the bank - for the first time in ten years. After the fight yesterday we'd made up and decided to go ahead and buy Lynn and Barb's unfinished house in the Smokies, and get Dad busy on the plans.

My coffee was exactly the right temperature. My headache was almost gone, and it was too late for the phone to ring. We snuggled and sighed. I was an hour into A League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and really savoring it, as well as the Winston Light 100 I just lit up. Mmmm. Life doesn't get much better.

Then IT happened. I can't tell you what IT was, because IT is none of your gd business. The point is the results were: cold coffee, unfinished movie, tears, humiliation, door-slamming and a bad taste in my mouth for the venerable institution of marriage.

Thank God I have the kind of husband that doesn't let it end there. The kind of husband who won't let me go, who wraps me in his big strong arms and whispers everything a woman needs to hear at times like this. Is there such a husband in the world? Yes ladies, yes indeed.

He's sound asleep now, peaceful baby, love of my life. The most pressing issue in my life at this moment? Do I make another pot or grab a diet Pepsi. Mmm, life is great.

Look What I Found

Originally Published 5/31/05

…so idk if all the links actually work, just doing some housekeeping here

World's Whackiest Religion: http://skepdic.com/raelian.html
Related: Send in the Clones: http://www.clonaid.com/news.php
Trepidation over Trepanation: http://skepdic.com/trepanation.htmlAl Qaeda Training Manual: http://www.usdoj.gov/ag/trainingmanual.htm
The Nun Bun: http://www.indiana.edu/~jkkteach/P335/nunbun.html
If Only I Were Single http://www.geocities.com/imtheonlycathy/4480014.jpg
If You Are Thinking of Getting Plastic Surgery: http://website.lineone.net/~a1/jocelyne/
He Looks Just Like my dog Muggsy http://www.planethunt.com/stranger/2005/03/dogs-for-god.html
What's Your Secret? http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

1/5/14

Absolutely Nothing Has Happened Since 2009.

Now you and i both know that's a bald-faced lie.  The thing is, now that i've had time to peruse those 2009-08 posts I know why I walked away from here and didn't look back for 5 years.  Who wants to read all that political/religious/philosophical crap?  Being a woman of excellent literary taste I just couldn't stand the sound of my own voice for even one more day. So.  I will spare you the intense pain of ploughing through that rubbish, ok?  Just ignore it, it's not worth your time.  Maybe I will just re-post the really (to me) good ones, the personal ones, the real ones, the funny ones and delete or secret-file the insanely ponderous and wordy political and religious rants.

If you want to read anything, read The Junkyard Of My Mind.  Better, more personal.  Mostly.  The rest of it - not so much.  I don't wike it.

But if I want to stay true to my blogger self, it's better for it all to stay out there as a permanent lesson on what not to do.

Bluster and over the top rhetoric aside, it was passionless.  It's so easy to divert one's attention to the bigger issues of the world we have no control over, when the personal, private issues we do (or should) have control over become a) heartbreakingly painful to contemplate or b) intensely boring.

Here's the deal.  Even old haggard worn-out crones like me can learn a thing or two along the way.  And I know I can do better.  Let me try.

Dedicated with affection to Bob who will never see it,  and with regret to Roz who will never see it but for a completely different reason.

1/5/14
Broken, All Over Again

I don't exactly know why these things happen.

It's the middle of the night, you're minding your own business.  Shuffling around in the dark trying not to trip over a cat or step on a painful dog bone.  Trying not to make any noise.  Wondering whether it's absolutely perverse to even think about having another cup of coffee.

You're bored with the game you're playing on the inter web, and for once decide to just cruise around places you haven't visited.  Something is pulling.  Something is weird.  Something is a little scary. You are pointed to very old neglected places you religiously avoid.

Like Facebook.

Now I remember… I was depressed and puzzled and angry over the silence that met a text message I sent to a loved one, so I sent another.  And another.  So sad.  Thinking about how the bright shining gems have gotten lost or sullied, people in my life dropping away, fading away, blurring.

Come back…come back!

So I pulled a Stella Dallas, and crept around pages peeking at the lives I am no longer a part of.  Unfriended.  Anonymous.  Unknown.  Looking at the pictures, reading the comments, even touching the sweet faces on the screen.  So pathetic.  So alone.

Heartbroken, I realize just how bad this situation is when I see Adam's mother has passed away.  My God.  My God I am so fng sorry.  How did he ever get through that.  Where the hell was I?  How did I let him get away again?  I am sad I never met her.  Another huge regret staring at her page that says "live life without regrets".  I am never there for you, in that at least I remain consistent.

Bittersweet, watching that video - and knowing he did exactly what I did when my mother passed away.  Can we really be so alike, so apart.  I wonder where that video is now, on that old media no one else seems able to watch.  I spent days on it.  I see the love there, I read how he likes being able to go there and see it whenever he wants to.

Thank God I at least got to thank her.  Even if it wasn't in person.

Was it you Roz?  Sharing his baby pictures with me?  Pulling me around step by step to that place I vacated a long time ago, that exact place where I knew he was alive and strong and happy thanks to you and Mordy.

I don't know why these things happen.  Well yes I do, don't I.  But standing out here in the dark in the rain I am grateful for the window at least.

True to form, I spaced this blog out for so long I forgot I even had it, or how to use it. Um, remind me what is a blog anyway? Trusting nobody will ever read this, here is the update just to amuse myself when I find this again 2 years from now: We are the proud grandparents of Hendrix and Torch. Amy, Billy and Lyla moved to Denver. We want to but can't. I retired. Terry retired but he's still working. We are still married and will celebrate our 20th anniversary this Valentine's Day. I no longer have a gall bladder. I don't miss it much.