Call me Maybe

I have been absolutely Lah-may at writing lately.  It sure isn't for lack of wanting to.  At some point when I am independently wealthy, I will be blogging away, for I will have all the time in the world for it.  There are times I'd love to be writing but then the cat walks by me and has crap smeared on her fur somewhere and I have to get up and try to clean off a greased pig.  Or, you know, something like that happens.  I still wonder about the presence of Flip and how that translates to me not doing all that I was doing before.  I certainly can't blame another person for what I am or aren't getting done.  So it's not you, it's me.

Right now Humanling is on the phone with her father.  That means in a moment, the phone may be travelling along the well worn hallway to me.  Writus interruptus.  

But in the meantime, I grapple with balance and life. All in good and enthusiastic ways of course.  When the 'relationship' is in my life I allow it to move into those creative, fertile places in my mind.  And with the same crops being sown over and over again, the land is becoming barren, until I finally choose to rotate those crops yet again.

Recently, Marc Allen was on my show.  Marc is one of the founders of New World Library which is a kick ass publishing company.  He's written a number of excellent books as well.  He puts things in such a simple and accessible way that you feel there is absolutely no way you can fail at achieving anything you want.  I just looked at my bank account and am currently achieving making those numbers look like they did on payday.  Granted, things happen, holidays happen. Running out to the store to buy pecans for $7.39 just to re-create the stuffing that you made the night before because you left it at your mom's house and really really really wanted the leftovers is probably not necessary.  But it's a true story.  

As is the two line story about a fella on Facebook sending me a link to Bourbon Enthusiast.com last night. Such compassion toward the obvious bourbon drinker.  Either way, he's a fellow Scorpio so I'll trust his judgment.  However, it does tell me that I post about bourbon Way Too Much.  

The child is going with her dad tonight and sleeping over. Flip is in PA visiting family but has asked me last minute to walk his pup and is hoping that I shall be waiting for him in his drafty and dog scented abode when he gets home.  Ah, I do not know.  I will probably end up there but  have comfortably entered the land of saying "Maybe".  I enjoy limited time together and have come to really enjoy entering my sanctuary here.  Weekends are precious and I used to sit outside in the mornings and blog but the weather is sort of taking over and some weekends the To Do Lists are too tall to sit comfortably without Duty hanging over me.  No one wants duty hanging over them.  

What I'd LOVE to do is kill some bourbon and go see the final bite of Twilight.  Money is scolding me otherwise.  So who knows.  There is much to read in this house. 

I will probably be taking the laptop along with me for the ride to Cavey's house for when I drop off the Ling that is my human.  Pop into a Starbucks, enjoy something hot and write for a bit.  Read some Marc Allen.  Or right now, before I allow duty's claws to keeping tugging at the elbow of my sweater, put up a separate Weekend Wish List post.  How I love those.  

Do These 80s Make My Heart Look Hollow?

Everything about middle school makes me melangiddy.  Yes, that's melancholy and giddy together.  Like salt and sweet on the palate.  Shows that involve the heartbreak of that special age (Wonder Years, Freaks and Geeks), fresh new feelings and discoveries.  Songs from 1981-1983.  Movies from the era.  Anything with that confusing, die hard make or break oomph surging behind it.

I met Flip when we were both 12.  I was actually obsessed with his brother, who I did go out with but only because I had a relentless girlfriend who either wouldn't stop jackhammering him about asking me out or more than likely, she probably threatened to hurt him if he didn't ask me out (Rest in Peace, Tammy!).  We didn't do well as a couple and the boy that I chose was awkward with girls, quieter but incredibly mischievous.  In passing time skipping school and doing whatever it was to just be around him, I met his younger brother, who is Flip.  Long story short, his older brother had to be shoved outside with me in the freezing cold of winter for our first kiss  while our friends peeked out the window.  It was required to get back in the house.  What pressure?  Just a bunch of other 13 year olds checking us out for the big moment, a month and a half into the relationship.  We just didn't act like a couple.   We tormented each other with practical jokes, upping the ante wherever possible.  Eventually he broke it off with me.  And Flip and I started to hang out alone. Then REALLY alone.  In a barn, in elevators, in movie theaters, just to slobber all over each other every single minute that we could.  It was completely opposite of my "relationship" with his brother.  

My junior high memories used to be fun to think about.  As I watched Humanling tonight at the bowling alley, drooling over a classmate, it brought me straight back to the inevitable beauty and heartbreak of crushes and desire and the unknown.  My own junior high memories are now tainted in a sense with this relationship gone really bad with Flip.  We haven't just taken on the last three years.  Now we've altered 1982-1983 severely.  Looking back on those tender memories now just hurts as if it was a part of our current history.  Neither of us listen to Journey.  But if Journey comes on the radio, I think of That time.  Which means I am thinking of him.     When Steve Perry tells me he's coming to me with Open Arms, I believe that he's giving me a singing telegram from Flip.  When Joe Elliott is not F-F-F-Foolin', I know he means we've got some serious stuff going on.  

We would hold hands, walking through cemeteries, pretending to have accents from England, yet say we were from Florida.  He couldn't get enough of kissing me then, as we'd hit the Stop button in the elevator and shut off the lights.  There was a lot of heat for two 13 year olds!  

And now it's just a whole lot of withdrawal.  Unfortunately he seems to want all my compassion without looking outside of himself to see if anyone else was hurt from the shrapnel.  He believes that since I am the one who cut it off, I must be throwing a World Without Flip party every night.  I know that really, I'm better off.  But Pollyanna has a hard time closing the coffin lid.  If we can't get work this out, the early 80's have officially been destroyed for me.  Another submission to the one in charge of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.   

Cuz Tonight We're Gonna Party Like It's 19-Blah Di Blah

As I write tonight, I am surrounded by the good folks from Time Life who are playing an infomercial on the Carol Burnett show and a tiny little animal who is kneading things.  I don't even think she will lie down.  She kneads and then when that piece of blanket/leg/floor is ripe enough, she moves on to another spot.  

This weekend I shook it up a bit.  I went out and got myself a hangover.  Well, why not.  The kid is 13 now and knows how to let me sleep for a bit while doing a floor puzzle.  A friend of mine was having a housewarming party.  And for people our age, it means what it meant 20 years ago.  Drank!  Lots of drank!  And for those who so wish, Other.  

Many of the people going were friends of my first husband as well so I threw it out there...you wanna go?  I also threw out there that should he find a person flirt worthy while there, PLEASE DO, help yourself.  I wanted to be sure that this wasn't going to be taken in any way as a date.  He's been dry for about seven months.  He just *can't*.  It would send him into the spiral that has been his life for about 25 years now.  He assured me that he'd be fine....would pick up some of that fabby NA brew that people drink sometimes.

He did offer to pick up whatever I wanted though.  And I can't stress enough that I'm a broke ass right now.  So thanks for the Erdinger and the small bottle of Makers that I would stash in my purse for later.  

Is that weird to bring an ex to a party?  Well, I thought it was a neat idea.  We share a daughter so we have to talk anyway.  We don't really SHARE her....I have her 99% of the time.  But his parents watched her so we could go.  People did not recognize him since he cut off all his hair and put on a little needed weight.  People who were his best buddies from the womb.  

It was one of those Eat Nine Potato Chips and Drink Most of the Bourbon nights.  I can say for sure that I felt great last night.  

This morning was another matter altogether.  I had crashed at my ex in-laws house to save myself a drive home at 2:30am since I had to drop Cavey off anyway.  And it would save me in gas to just already be there when Humanling woke up. Then we'd trot off to home, easy peasey, stop at Starbucks and delight in the offerings.   (Broke Ass can conjure up $5 for Starbucks).  

Lying down, I was fine.  Then I went upright.  Then I knew there was no turning back.  My head hurt.  I was handed a cup of coffee that Wasn't Starbucks, but was surprisingly tasty.  I realized that now I was bombarding my stomach with coffee and no food.  Cavey was making breakfast for his parents...eggs, ham, toast.  The smell was dashing over to me in a relay race...first eggs, then ham, then toast.  My stomach sent signals of distress.  I ripped off the pizza crust from the night before's dinner.  I thought maybe if I just nibbled it, then waved it around a bit, it would do something good for me.  I just couldn't get too far with it.  I forced Humanling to get her things before my Effort Smile could dissolve into abrupt rudeness.  My head was ruthless, making a total display out of this hangover and letting the pain throb down my neck.  Drama.

There was a half hour drive still to contend with.  Or okay okay..maybe it was 25 minutes.  Whatever, it was so bad that I knew I had to confess to the kid that I wasn't feeling great.  Her empathy during the car ride was minimal.  It caught up when we got home.  We went through the Starbucks drive through.  I could scarcely say the name of any food item out loud without the gag reflex.  

Once home, I found that the gum I was chewing was stuck to one of my back teeth. This was a problem.  I put my finger in my mouth to pull it off and the gag reflex hit for at least five seconds.  That doesn't seem long, right?  Oh.  It was.  I fed the animals, dosed the guinea pig with his meds and then me, three pillows and the chair became acquainted.  Humanling was great about it and didn't even make noise about me putting on the music channel with swing music.  

The fan was on, the breeze was great.  Three hours later I got out of the chair, hungry and ready for coffee.  Ah, the joy of contrast.     

Sure was great to feel 25 again.  Even if it was just remembering how it felt to be 25 the Morning After.  But part of the fun was the drama that subsides after 15 years.  Two of Cavey's ex girlfriends were there.  One of mine was.  One of his wanted to stab me back in 1997 for being the reason why he broke up with her.  On this night, it was an abundance of Polite.  Of smiles.  Of water under the bridge.  She is married and just had a baby.  My ex has been married for about 14 years and has a 16 year old son.  His other ex...well ok.  That one complained to him that she stands out amongst her friends as she has no family.  

I imagined that I suddenly had a feeling that I understood how many generations before us felt.  Standing there with people you have known for so long and suddenly calculated how long exactly.  Remembering everyone as mere kids, no responsibilities.  And yet here we all are, plenty of responsibility.  And still enjoying a good party.  Just not sneaking off to make out with anyone now.  A decent enough night to forget my obsession with Flip.  

But oh yeah....I just remembered.  I'm still waiting for the day that he write me an angry email. Waiting for the email that just has let go of the anger and wants to just hang out.  I'm going to buy a new dress I think to match that shade of blue that I'll be from holding my breath for that one.

I Won't Hold Out Tomorrow but You Can't Have My Beer

I'm having an Erdinger while the cat thinks that the arm of the chair is being combative and is fighting back.  My darling teenager is playing with my hair, braiding, unbraiding, ponytailing, etc.  Normally this is the stuff that will put me directly to sleep, without passing Go or collecting $200. I used to play with my mom's hair when I was little, when she'd allow me to touch the long, wiry frizz in the days before gel other than Dippity Do.  I'm not sure if my mom even knew what it was for.

When I was 14, my hair started going through The Change.  Buh bye silky tresses.  Um, what's up and what do I do with you frizz that is about one year before mousse and gel of the 1980s?  I learned early on that after washing my hair and drying it, putting on what those damned kids today call a "beanie" would help domesticate my increasingly wild and disobedient hair.

I decided tonight to take a siphon a sip out of the Asshole Keg. It was a little bitter but only for an incredibly short time.  Flip has been really scant on the invitations to his home and with the quality time together.  Taking him to appointments without seeing him otherwise is not Quality Time.  I suppose I could be That Girl who says "It doesn't matter what we're doing, as long as I'm with YOU" but that's not really the case for me at this point.  Make an effort to see me.  If it wasn't for him needing rides then this week would not have happened.  Oh, I did go to his house one night for the All Star Game...for an hour.  For forty five minutes he went to town on a plate of Chinese food.  Then when I announced I'd be leaving in a few minutes, he pulled me closer but didn't ask me to stay any longer.  Tonight he still didn't ask me by, although I've mentioned to him in a direct way that we haven't been together this week since Sunday (and we live seven minutes apart).  I guess he figures why do today what will inevitably happen tomorrow.  We'll be in the hotel room, having gone to a wedding that I am spending all the money on.  Read: $200.  $110 for the room and then I had to go buy a dress that enjoys the extra boob and ignores the extra gut.  So really.  Money can't buy love but can it buy some time together?  Or at least make you feel like you should tend to the voices outside of your head for awhile?  

He called me today at work..one of those planned calls where he announces he has to leave the house in 5 minutes so thought he would call.  Maybe a Pollyanna would say "Yay!  He called!"  But no, sorry folks.  I'm a Scorpio.  That's not at all how I see it.  I see it as "I'd better call her and make it look like I want to talk to her and that I'm putting in a reach out here and there but I don't feel like calling.  I'll call before I leave so that we can't stay on the phone."  That's what you do to people who annoy you.  To people that you like or are related to and feel the guilt of having to return a phone call even though you'd rather eat your own clipped toenails with heavy cream for dinner than call them.  

He was also coming into my area of town but didn't suggest meeting up as we used to do.  

He'll say I'm being negative.  I call it realistic. 

So when I spoke to him tonight I mentioned that I was having a nice cold Erdinger tonight and was frosting up my glass in the freezer.  He mentioned more than once after that how much he'd love one.  His salesman tactics are rather hard to ignore.  Yes, I have a six pack.  Yes, I would normally be happy to share.  The me of last week would bequeath him....please do stop by and I will give you a couple to take home.  (Insert rude, red Family Feud 'X' here).  Sorry.  I can't have him stop by just to pick up alcohol if he can't bother to come see me or make plans with me.  That would really be chumping myself out.  Especially since the wedding couple wouldn't know my name even though I've been in the family for three years and am running around like crazy tomorrow morning to get the Teen to her father and feed all my animals two days worth before leaving.  All that besides getting beautiful!  (And here is the dress I will be wearing.  My boobs thankfully look way better in it than the mannequin's does.)

So I am going to give my little man piggie some probiotics, paint my nails and then pass out until the Beerless Wonder decides to call.  Cheers, Thirteenthers....here's to a great weekend.  

Love Ethic

I took Sir Flip to get a special It Goes To Eleven procedure yesterday.  He'd put off a spinal tap for the last year and finally obtained one.  Putting off a medical procedure is quite out of character for Flip.  I personally think he is addicted.  Usually at the first mention of a surgery or invasive test, he salivates and books one ASAP.  

But after his procedure, it seems that the Spinal Tap has gone the way of the Tooth Fairy and other myths.  My entire life, those very words have been uttered as a curse...worse than labor...worse than anything you can think of.  But as it turned out, he didn't feel a thing really.  Not at the time.  Today and yesterday have been more of a caution for him.  After the test they kept him lying flat for an hour and then he was to go home and emulate that as much as possible for the day.  Today he says it's hard to look right atcha baaaaaby....he had a spinal, so headaches maybe.  (Ok if you didn't get that it was a Call Me Maybe reference).  We spoke of possibly seeing each other tonight but then well....Happy Birthday a la Frosty the Snowman.  He never brought it up and I'm getting bored of inviting myself over.   If I am the one to bring this up, I will be stamped Negative.  Guess I just like to feed a relationship differently.  Starving it isn't my MO, know what I mean Vern?

When they first called Flip the Starvation Master in for his appointment yesterday, I phoned around on my cell to see if I could find special food for Kyyo, in order to bulk him up since he lost weight during his antibiotics journey.  It turned up nothing except my awareness of how awesome technology is between cells and computers.  An elderly couple, old as Oaks sat across from me.  He was the one being given to the Vampires.  She was the dutiful wife.  They were Reality TV.  He mumbled something and without looking up at him she said "You're not here to watch the television."  Old people even say "Television".  They're allergic to abbreviations.  Now I am aware that I've used the full word here on this blog, but that's because it is in print.  Or I'm getting old.  Because writing Television sounds better than writing TV.  

There were easy smiles between this couple, gentle laughter that would have been a welcome light breeze had they been made of Weather.  They seemed to genuinely listen to one another.  They both picked up magazines - she - a Family Circle type, he - a Connecticut magazine.  She spoke to him of their mail woes.  That she wrote "Does not live at this address" on an envelope.  She then wondered aloud how much of their own mail went to errant addresses.  Her husband kept quiet for a few moments...I thought perhaps this would be a scene that plays out amongst many couples.  Someone talks.  No one responds because No one is really listening.  A minute later he replied after giving it thought.  "I think it's because Work Ethic isn't what it used to be".  

You need no more proof of the fact that they were both at least 103.  Work ethic and the formal word rather than that crack slang - TV.  Although I would have been blown away if either them uttered the word, Hi-Def.

Speaking of Old Men, my guinea pig needs his probiotics.  He looked like an old man in his morning bathrobe when he came out of his "house" today.  He's been eating like a picky teenager, but eating.  Now I have to re-train him to drink out of his own water bottle because he has gotten used to the Rodent Mama syringing him water.  I have to go out of town for a night this weekend for a wedding for his cousin that we see maybe once or twice a year (any wedding over a half hour away is evil) and need a certain small animal to go independent and not die on me because I couldn't answer the ringing of the bell.  Admittingly, I do not want to go to this wedding and will be paying at least $110 to pay for the privilege of being where I don't want to be, with probably a meat slathered plate of food since Flip never filled out the RSVP cards.  He was put on the spot over the phone and was guilt punched into saying "Yes".  He cannot go if I don't go because he can't afford to.  I can't afford it either but he doesn't seem too upset by that as much as the fact that he already said he was going.  Oh I didn't mean to be a jerk with money and have a kid and three pets to feed and one to possibly keep giving medical care to if he doesn't die on me because I wasn't home for over 24 hours to feed him fresh food and syringe hydrate him.  What was I thinking?  

A Dose of Happy Will Keep Me Off Your Nerves

I feel a bout of random coming on so if you don't feel like dealing with that right this very moment dear reader, then feel free to come back later when you aren't so focused.  

I have on a Yankees/Dodgers game at the moment.  A cut away moment went to an older dude affiliated with the Dodgers.  I'm guessing he's the coach or owner (Gee, I wrote 'downer' at first...would that have worked?).  He was leaning against the railing, watching the game, blowing a cute pink bubble with his gum.  Awwww.  And that's what I'd rather be doing when I'm a Blue Hair.  Looking all adorable and having an important position with a baseball team rather than hobbling out of tonight's church venue for Bingo.

Pouring myself a gorgeous tall glass of Erdinger after a long, hard night of um....long and hardness from my Beloved, I realize I should have put a coaster down.  Because now, miss kitty cat needs to come over and start inspecting the premises to find out just where this cold, seemingly fresh and effervescent liquid is coming from.  She's such a good and curious kitty but  DAMMIT STOP SNIFFING AROUND NEAR MY OPEN GLASS.  So I hold the glass up in the air until she finally decides there is nothing new to learn about this tiny puddle of condensation.

These drug commercials drive me nuts.  Especially the ones that beat around the bush (no pun intended) about swallowing a pill in order to achieve a "10" of an erection.  In all three scenarios on the last commercial that I saw, the women were portrayed as fun loving, adorable, unaware of how cute they were and spontaneous.  The men stood there in a stupified, adoring state, as if  now that they could achieve Hardness Maximus, their significant other was the most curiously fawnable thing on the planet.  I am happy others who can achieve a booty situation that gives their steps to dance, it's just these commercials are ridiculous.  


My weekend was rather nice.  I spent it with Flip and all I can say is that I'm glad I'm no politician.  I flip flop back and forth between such feelings of isolation and ecstasy that I don't often know what is real - except for the fact that when he offers me loving attention, it's all that I need.  Hm.  I guess that does say something about how I feel.  

I'd Appreciate if You Could Wear Me Out Today

My hair is being twisted by smaller versions of my hands, only with stronger and sharper talons. The teen lies here in the warm, but not marshmallow roasting still in the bag type heat.  She loves to play with my hair.  Good thing because I'm a total greedbag when it comes to letting someone touch my hair.  I love it.  If I were an angry country (this again?) and someone played with my hair, I'd just nod off and fall out of my chair and the world would be safe.  Lather, rinse, repeat. 

Flip and I did manage to get into another argument yesterday before Fun Time.  This time it was his turn to get more unmanageable than I.  So we got off the phone and I swore that I could only be alive because I happened to be hula hooping while on the phone during the bickerfest.  So it was sort of like dancing all night while you drink.  You keep burning it all off as you go along and even things out a bit.  

My great trial lies in lacing up those Buh Bye shoes and taking off because I'm not enjoying the moment.  So I ran through the WWTNHD scenario in my head and decided that we couldn't let it lie like that.  We had plans originally and I still wanted to spend my time with him the way that we  talked about.  Ultimately, I emailed him back very sincerely to ask for some patience because of my major issues and that I know we all have them - whether or not he is asking me to be patient through his is his deal.  I am not him and we are not one and the same.  I deal with my stuff the way that I know how and should not be expected to be like anyone else.  I would be by to get him at the appointed time.  

We picked him up some food and ended up by his own desire, picking up a bottle of bourbon.  This morning, that bottle was depleted and I only started feeling a bit better an hour ago.  (It's 10pm).  We bounced back and forth through movies.  I noted that Jason Bateman looks damn good at his age and survived the Child Actor clutch.  Flip more or less patted my ass and wanted me to freshen his drink, which I willingly do as he has done it for me nearly most of the time when we lived together.

There was no wild and crazy anything that sometimes holds hands with a bottle of bourbon.  You can't tell which bottle will cause what.  They're sneaky that way.  Instead, I woke him up at 4:30 as he was sleeping in the recliner chair and called him to sleep next to me.  

He must really be getting sicker.  He slept past 11:30 this morning and he is normally a guy who used to guilt my ass out of bed much earlier.  No matter what I tried....um, "body language", mentioning the time or that the dog probably is waiting for him (which would normally jolt him as he is a good doggie daddy) he couldn't get himself out of bed.  So I played Farmville while laying next to him.  

Eventually he woke up enough to realize there was an untouched body next to him that would give him a good turn and acted on it.  All I can say is he wore me the eff out.  I dropped him off after picking up some delicious biscuits with cream cheese on them and we went in the house to eat and then continue the waking up process.  Which promptly put us back to sleep.  

He says he misses us living together.  There are times I agree with that.  There are times I think my heart would grow size 13 feet and kick my ass if I went back.  We don't have to think about it now anyway.  I am not free from my apartment for 10 more months.  And I like it here.  His place currently looks like a Chernobyl transplant where everything has taken over but the humans.  Mine is mostly neat.  You'll find a pile here and there and you can't count the kid's room.   His fridge is too bare and he's just weaker and weaker by the day.  

I came back home hoping to be productive.  I totally was not.  That's not actually true...I made a lot of food and went for a walk.  Then the recliner grabbed at me and forced me to cuddle up with it.  

Maybe things can be fixed eventually, I don't know.  I'll probably be raging pissed by midnight tonight regarding him.  But hopefully not.  

Hand Over Your Body so That I Won't Suffer

I have to keep notes.  My whole plan to target avoiding Alzheimers someday is to just keep with me a notepad that allows me to jot at all hours of the day.  I find that if I have to depend on myself to remember some witticism, it'll be overridden by some Have To on my Habitual list.

Currently, my list is propped against the legs of a sleeping 13 year old.  It's another straw in the ice cream kind of heat around these parts.The child gets to sleep with me in the living room a la air mattress while our one tiny fan makes white noise that convinces us we feel just a teensy bit cooler.  

In the meantime, I've put some butter out to soften because the devil in me sleeps in the daylight and I say no to things like potato chips.  However, sitting here right now with this Blue Moon beer, I'd love someone to rub crunchy cheese doodles all over me and be sure not to miss my teeth!

It was a day where my self esteem and patience is once again tied to hearing from Flip.  I did hear from him today and then I didn't.  And he did suggest we hang out "this weekend", reiterating that Friday is "the weekend" and in my mind, Friday is "today".  I know he hasn't been feeling well in the last couple of weeks.  I believe it is the Lyme taking over him again.  So he again, sounded as though I wouldn't see him tonight as he was feeling crappy.  I reminded him that we lived together for a long time.  I mean for someone who's bowel habits I know nearly every detail of, you're going to get self conscious on me now?  But the important point really was if you love someone you are there for all of it.  Not just the pretty moments.  And lately we haven't had many of those.

Sometimes I just want to be courted.  That doesn't mean spend all you have on me.  It means simply to be romantic and make me feel like you are thinking of me all day...when things are also good, not just when they are bad and you feel like you're sitting in the eject seat. 

He invited me over, and I only had about 90 minutes to spend with him.  But we sat and watched a show on Africa, then the Mets/Yankees game.  There were at the end a couple of tense moments that I couldn't find appreciation for and decided to just be quiet.  I could only make it known in XX language that I didn't agree...."I'm sorry that you feel that way".  And then I focused heavily on Thich Nat Hahn....WWTNHD?  Well, he wouldn't sit there and kindle an argument.  But he also would probably be more proactive on peace and joy.  I went somewhere that I could handle....watching the game, saying nothing.  Trust me, much better than me saying something.  And I suppose it paid off it some way.  It certainly didn't create new fires, so that's a plus.

It was the Teen's last day of school today.  I've unfortunately forgotten to log some hours for my last paycheck so we have basically around $20 for gas and food until next Friday....unless I can tweak something.  So yeah, I was a sourpuss for awhile.  I wanted to take her for something special since she completed 7th grade.  Even if her teacher kinda sucked in the bolstering of self-esteem department, telling her last week, "I don't even know how you got into the 7th grade."  I told my daughter she should have retorted with "I don't even know how on earth you can be a special ed teacher" but she said she would have gotten in trouble...and true that, she would have.  But it would have been worth it.

So I wallowed for a bit wondering what to do for her today.  And then thought about that universal balm...ice cream.  I signed off for lunch with my job and walked her down to our local bakery, which notably, also has an ice cream bar.  I checked online first to be sure that I had enough money to purchase a banana split for us to share.  I pep rallied her into that banana split since she'd never had one.  One long ass line later, I ordered a banana split and heard a reply of "A what?"  I mentioned that it was on the online menu.  She said she didn't believe they made those, checked with "someone" and no, they don't.  So I revised the order to something with hot fudge and was told that they aren't doing hot fudge right now.  So I declined to order anything and knew the scalding temperament that would await me when I delivered this news.  I did promise her to go to the ultimate homemade ice cream place once I signed off the for the day from work though.  We went, we fully enjoyed.  It was worth it.  I would have qualified as Crappy Parent Extraordinaire had we done nothing at all.

I have found yet another layer as to who I am really am.   I am unfortunately what I never wanted to really be.  I'm a million Stand By Your Man country songs coated in a tough candy shell.  I want to just flee from all the fights, all the tough things that relationships really are.  But I can't seem to do that.  My heart couldn't give two shits about the memo.  

It seems right to me when I read these words:

Happiness and bliss should be found right in suffering. 
It is suffering that makes us understand. 
It is the experience of suffering that can bring about our compassion and understanding. 
So the attitude of running is not a wise one. 
We have to confront the suffering. We have to embrace tenderly our pain and suffering. 
We have to look deeply into the heart of suffering, into the nature of suffering, in order to really see the path of transformation and healing.

~Thich Nhat Hanh

That's me...the runner.  But I haven't sprinted out of this universe yet, which is my actual inclination when things get tough.  Thich....How to confront the suffering?  I need bulletpoints Thich! Or I will need them.  Tonight instead I can go to bed anticipating that I will be spending the night with Flip tomorrow, that it will be all the comfort and familiarity and answer to desire that it always is.  

Yes I Would Like Your Hot Knife

I am a creature of bullheadedness.  I decided that I absolutely must be comfortable sitting here, as I do nightly, on my air mattress.  This entails having all of the essentials close by.  One of those for tonight is a glass of that Brooklyn Summer Ale that I have to finish.  One so broke cannot afford to laugh at the last three beers as they are poured down the drain.  Instead, one tries in vain to balance it on a newspaper section of all things, on top of the mattress.  It worked for a little bit.  Then it didn't.  The blanket smells like beer now (but it's the side that the kid sleeps on usually - that'll be a fun story to tell the school when she comes in smelling like booze).  The beer itself is perched on top of a hardback notebook on top of the mattress now.  One should not have to reach away from the keyboard too far.

The morning started off rather well here.  I offered to bring some banana blueberry bread to Flip this morning on my way to work.  I don't know what I exactly expected when I got there.  But the hug felt wonderful in between moments of the dog shoving his snout in our crotches.  And the kisses were sweet.  He wasn't feeling well but asked if I may be able to stop on my way home from work and "spend time" with him (quotes are mine.  He did not air quote.)  That's ok.  I just need to get in the door and have some time.  I can usually do the rest.  

So for all of my stumbling and ankle turning in my heels in the grass this morning, spilling coffee all over myself with a CLOSED lid, I would get to have some closeness with him at the end of the work day.  The traffic vanished, lights were green all the way and I sang in key (maybe) all the way to work.  At one point I even had a synchronized circus moment with a chipmunk.  In my defense, I thought it was a brown leaf in the road.  I didn't see what it really was until I was about to straddle it with the tires.  It didn't move until I passed over it and then it ran to wherever Chipmunk Silliness happens. 

The day itself was filled with the scenery from any Disney movie in a happy moment.  Singing birds, brilliant colors, birds giving me sashes and lots of giddy laughter.  

We hired a temp who is fun and smart.  He's married, 28 and anxious to work hard.  He's a Gemini....a trait that I never used to find interesting in anyone (sorry Gems....I'm a Scorpio...it seems to be a natural resistance for me).  In later years I started collecting a few and can call them people that I talk to from time to time and Step Dad.  We have this robot mail cart that shows up outside of our glass doors and beeps to signify that someone better get their tight ass out there and do a mail swap.  Take what's yours and insert outgoing mail into the bin.  It follows a track that is in the rug.  Our new guy was taught the mail dance by someone else on the team other than moi.  Today he told me that instead of stopping outside the door obediently as a robot is wont to do, it kept going.  Our boy had to follow the robot and do the mail exchange as it dashed off in slo-mo away from him.   I asked him simply, "Why didn't you just hit the stop strip?" 

"What stop strip?"

Apparently he was not taught how to make our mailbot stop and go by simply touching the red or green strip.  I fell apart laughing, imagining him chasing the robot down the hall.

It was the little things such as this that took my head out of the anticipation of the afternoon. I got the go ahead to leave early.  Yessir, that's right...a late nooner...may I go?

Flip and I sent each other songs.  I sent him the new Fiona Apple song, "Hot Knife".  I told him it reminded me of him.  He wrote back that it reminded him of me after listening.  

"If I'm butter - if I'm butter- 

If I'm butter, then he's a hot knife, 
He makes my heart a cinemascope, 
He's showing the dancing bird of paradise. 

He excites me 
Must be like a genesis of rhythm 
I get feisty 
Whenever I'm with him "

Ahhhh...yes....that magnetism distracting me, pulling me again so that I can momentarily wipe out all the gunk and pretend it never happened, just let me near him.  

His love bite to send back was Willie Nelson, "Just Breathe".  

                                                                    "Stay with me,..

You're all I see.

Did I say that I need you?
Did I say that I want you?
Oh, if I didn't now I'm a fool you see,..
No one knows this more than me.

As I come clean."

Was this for me?  Was he just showing me a song he likes or was this a messenger?  I've got the double X chromes baby, I'm going with message.  

If I Don't Invite You, The Terrorists Win

I don't get the fascination with Josh Groban.  I clearly see that he's a good looking pup with his melted chocolate brown eyes and scrubbly scrub'ems facial hair.  I realize that he can sing.  But it's like he was born to sing to old widows.  I'm a grandma myself but clearly not old enough to even listen to his voice.  Tell ya what.  I will learn every lyric to his music if you put a half dressed and willing Blake Shelton in the room with me.  

I have no idea what I am really watching on the Tele right now but it's related to PBS in some way on a different channel than my Home Girl PBS station.  It might be the Something Something Pops Orchestra with some older and for one for the old, stars. 

I took the Teen out yesterday for a day of wild and crazy girl time.  We filled up at a local deli on a fresh mozzarella sandwich and headed toward some falls that are about 40 minutes away.  To be sure that I didn't get demerits I checked with Flip first to see if he wanted to come but made it known that I didn't want time constraints.  He is always needed to leave early for something or other and I just wanted to kick the clock in the nads and enjoy a day.

He couldn't go...his clock was wearing a strap.

I had a quieter, adult meltdown when the Teen mentioned that she brought her Now 40 CD for us to listen to on the ride.  Really?  Do I have to hear the whole thing?  Only two songs. That's it. That's my usual rule in the car if she brings a CD that has imprinted on my DNA by her playing it repeatedly.

Then "In My Head" came on.  I started fist pumping and shouting "JASON DURULO!!!!" along with.....Jason Durolo.  She was embarrassed.  Maybe she'll stop bringing these things along for the ride.

We had a great time at the falls.  It was worth the $15 parking fee (we're out of state).  I haven't been so smitten with a view in quite some time.  Looking up provided trees on a mountain type slope on either side of the rushing water coming down at us.  The teen hung out in one of the levels where the water collects and is carried more slowly out.  I hung out on a tier with my flip flopped feet in the water and attempted to read but really only took in the view.  It felt like when I brought books on the train to Arizona from NY and could barely read one.  The view was too magnificent at all times.  

I thought about the summer that we spent so much time there with El, my past fiancee.  We used to pick up a dozen crickets from the pet store on the way there and unload them into the paradise of the wilderness. We'd bring my brother's kids and on the way home, we'd always share some Fatty McCalorie drink from Starbucks, along with a yummy snack.  We shared everything.  I think we hardly ever bought one thing for one person only.  We might get two items but they were both shared.  Eating was an event for us, something to get as jazzed about as anyone would for Great Adventure, sex or winning a scratch off.

I felt a wonderful peace there.  Breathed it in and hoped someday that I will return with those kind of times, but that if I don't, what I have is certainly enough.

Today while driving, a car was in the lane next to me and we were stopped at red light.  The passenger side window opened and a closed hand came out.  The hand opened and a butterfly popped out!  I felt like it was a tiny reminder to me that even though Flip is putting my heart into the litter box and coating it like a crunchy filet before tenderizing it with cleats, life is constantly showing me beautiful things.

On the way home from our errands, the Teen notices an ambulance behind us.  It is calm, there are no lights going on, it's just acting like a normal vehicle.  She asked why it was behind us.  So I put on the classical music station to provide us with the drama that we would need for my answer.  The music ascended and crashed!  The Music says that it is all doom!!!!  The Music says we don't KNOW why that ambulance is there! OH MY GOD!!!!

As far as doom really goes, Flip told me last night that he does all the Reach Outs as I pecked away at my keyboard complaining about already.  It's become some sort of Outsmart the Gopher game.  I was sure to email him this morning to say hi.  He gave me the tiniest of replies and later on replied again to say something about a ghastly headache and that his body hurt.  Well, yeah that's possible.  OR IS SHE OVER AND HE WANTS TO BE SURE THAT I DON'T BOTHER HIM!  Ok, that's just paranoid so I brushed my shoulder off and pretended that I'm better than that to be thinking those thoughts.  Eventually I called him way later on to say hello, because I am accused constantly of not trying.  I mean, why am I really trying?  I'm calling more likely because I am tired of being told that I am not doing anything right and that he is.  So THAT'S why I call?  Mr. Bodyaches and Head Throbs didn't answer anyway so I left a message.  And eventually got an email back saying he got the message and that his head still hurts and I can call him when I'm done with my work out since he didn't want to intrude with a call during that.

That all makes perfect sense, right?  Or does it play into SABOTAGE perfectly??  Who knows. But I sent an email back again...I had many things to do still and didn't want to call and possibly wake up what could have been a nap of his.  I've heard him too often complain that he was TRYING to take a nap but people keep calling the house.  I hate being on the other end of that.  His crabby is deadly to a healthy amount of self-esteem.  Can wipe it right out with one sentence that includes how put out he is because you called and woke him up.

I've not gotten a call either.  My possible wrong assumption is that we are on Game Standard Time.....now it's a test to see how much I care and if I'll call.  I've already done enough I feel.  I'm not going to find my favorite ass kissing lipstick and wear it out.  

But perhaps I will wear Click Your Heels Three Times Cherry and remember how good it really does feel to be Home.  Even if I haven't exactly figured out how great I've got it.  

Mom, Wake Me Up When Def Leppard Gets Here!

(CJ Wilson above)

Damn MLB....the game that I want to see tonight is not within my subscribed channels.  CJ Wilson is pitching for the Angels tonight and although I can google any ole mouthwatering photo of him, I'd rather be less skeevy and just watch the game.  Plus watching the man work is way better than a still photo! 

When I was about 13, I used to buy all these metal magazines, hanging up every poster (which I may or may not have kissed at night)  and reading every article.  Def Leppard was my absolute favorite and I'd frequently imagine how entirely possible it was that their tour van (there was never a bus or plane in these visions...just a van) would break down outside of my house and my mom would allow all five of them to sleep in my room with me.  Anyway, the point being that I may have liked Def Leppard a bit.

So in Creem magazine, they used to have this page of photos and they'd have captions under them, like funny ones.  So there was this photo of Phill Collins with his mother and underneath the photo was a funny caption and at the end of the sentence, in brackets, it said [natch].  Well I've been wondering since 1984-ish, what exactly that meant.  I looked at the photo over and over, trying to derive what tone "natch" was used in.  What do I need a dictionary for?  It wasn't the age of instant gratification.  I pondered.  For years.  And the other day, one of my daily emails from dictionary.com showcased the word, Natch.  If that email was an envelope, I'd have torn it open.  And wouldn't you know, it means, "naturally".  That's it.  Something I could have tried to even guess, but didn't.  

I finally put it together today.  The Chicago Sun Times is the most committed being that I know.  When I was married to my 2nd husband (and 3rd child), we used to watch a ton of movies.  He loved movies so much.  So he also loved the movie review every week with Roger Ebert.  Or rather, he hung much credence in Roger Ebert's opinion of a movie.  Wanting to do my wifely duty of understanding Baby Hubby a little more and show interest in his hobby, I subscribed via email to the Sun Times movie reviews by Roger Ebert.  Every Friday it would show up in my inbox.  But then, Hubby #2 stopped delivering to my inbox and walked out on me.  But the Chicago Times did not get the memo.  My last name changed back and my email changed accordingly.  My place of employment changed it's email as well.  But the Chicago Sun Times shows up still, five years later, every Friday.  It will not break our commitment.  

Speaking of commitment, today was another email trail that ended in an inferno.  Just a bunch of back and forth silliness that calls for balloons, party favors and wax lips.  I emailed in calm, non bold and sparingly capital letter font.  Very sparingly.  I received back highlighted in yellow sentences.  That's Flip's new thing.  He likes to take a sentence that I said and copy, paste and highlight it back to me.  You can always tell when he's got a new toy - takes a while for him to put it down.

I'm not sure why he tries to hang on so tightly as he does.  He says so many derogatory things about me and is constantly telling me how he is acting evolved and mature and that I am not.   One of the sentences that I got today started something like, "I, unlike you," has been working on himself and going forward.  Wow.  Did he really do that?  It's a bit judgmental but ok.  I actually do try very hard to work on myself through introspection, through this blog, through admitted that yep, I have jerk tendencies but I don't actually use them a whole lot.  I catch myself when I feel impatient and just observe it, trying to figure out where it is coming from and what I might be able to do next time about it.  We all have our path and our way of figuring it out. And at least if I say out loud what I'm thinking, I've said it directly.  I'm not blaming or taking it out in different ways on anyone else.  I took responsibility by admission.  I think it is scary anyway to ever tell someone that you are working on yourself way more than they are.  It just sounds like employing Karma to swing by with an enlightening moment for you, complete with head tilt, raised eyebrow and "So THAT'S what you were thinking?"

Our issue has become a million small problems rolled into one delicious thick wall of a problem with multiple layers. He swears that our issue is my insecurity.  My issue is how he handled my delicate feelings, telling me that I have to "manage" my feelings.  But what about all the times he goes off on me or has an issue with something male related that bothers him?  Welp, it's time to start doing a Quote Boomerang and send it back.

Well darlings, I went without bourbon for four days and am enjoying one now.  And suddenly realize how hungry and sleepy I am.  Sweetest of dreams!

One Nation, Under God...and Tree and Flower and Feather...

I didn't hate by midnight last night.  So maybe that's progress.  It waited until about 6:30pm tonight instead.  That's like an extra day thrown in!  Like a bargain!!  

Tonight there are unhappy words and spoiled feelings going on.  I'm pretty direct about what's bothering me.  If I were any further direct, I'd buy an ad on ESPN and have it air during the Mets game tonight.  In fact, the only reason that I don't is purely financial.  And that my money might be better served going toward the Phillies than to the Mets.

So more on that later.  Like I'd leave you hanging.  Or more like it, spare you some vague details.

I brought Teen-A-Ling to her neurologist's office today in order to get her all fancied up for a 24 hour EEG.  She's old enough at this point to allow me to stay in the waiting room while a scalpful of wires gets glued onto her head and then all wrapped up with sticky bandages to keep those delicate things from being trampled by teen hands and fingers.  She scratches her head and plays with her hair as if she were being paid for it.

As I waited for her I read an entire small book called "The Practice of Bodhisattva Dharma".  Flip lent it to me last night.  He is back gettin' his Buddha on, which is usually a warm weather practice it seems for him.  Perhaps he is going to keep going this time with it.  I rather enjoyed it and it was definitely food for thought.  

One thing that I realized is that I am a commitment phobe no matter what it is.  It could be reading one book.  Or having one hobby. Or focusing on one task.  But instead I have to toggle between three books at once.  Or waste much of the precious time that I could be spending on a hobby, on the indecision of what creative outlet to stoke that night.  


So it comes as no surprise to me that during my readings, I realized that I also don't believe I can commit fully to one spiritual belief entirely.  I've always enjoyed the ritual and beauty and softness of Wicca, the reverence for life of the Native Americans, the common sense of Buddhism  along with the taking the Do No Harm to further heights by including sentient beings instead of just us Two Legged geniuses.  Flip gravitates toward Buddhism 100%.  This is his way.  And that's pretty cool when people can choose like that.  I do not feel 100% about it.  I also don't feel that I have to kick out all else that I know or was brought up on for the sake of choosing just one.  Humans are not by any means the be all of the universe.  However, being here on the earth for a minute, we've managed to come up with all these parallel principles in religion.  So to me, while I'd love to commit 100% to a path, for now, I choose a few.  


Buddhism from all that I have read, and it's been a lot, can bring comfort.  It makes sense.  Sometimes though, I do feel a small frost from it and miss the loving Goddess element that comes with Wicca.  Or the highly and vocal appreciation factor that seems to go with Native American spirituality.  


I have a lot to read still on the subject, for all mentioned and will probably tip the scales numerous times during.


Now in a nutshell, I'm rather peeeeeeeved at Flip.  He simply didn't answer some questions that I had tonight, choosing instead to fight for his right to have options, I think.  I can't say what his motives are.  What I can say is that out of respect (and being badgered) I answer his questions when he is feeling like half a bridge.  I might not even like to but it gets answered.  I feel that I'm not getting the whole story from Flip with this ex of his who goes to some of those meetings.  


Well, I'd write more but I'm afraid that a glass of vodka will call me if I don't feign sleep.  

And a Dash of Guilt!

I don't know why I attempt to write while there is a movie on that I love.  That movie would be AllOfTheHarryPotter movies.  Right now is the one with that loser Dorothy Umbridge.  Man I hate her and wish I could envelope her in a room with a bunch of guy farts the morning after a baseball game and a stag.  

I'm rockin' the Guilt today. For a few things.  I figure if I'm going to feel bad about one thing, might as well invite the rest to show up so that I can just absorb it all at once.  Like taking accelerated courses.  It just gets you past the fact that much faster.  But first things first...some purple chapstick and maybe a small glass of bourbon.  AND to make note of the amazing scenery in AllOfTheHarryPotter movies.  

Ok it's about ten minutes later and I didn't do anything except put on chapstick.  How the heck can I write the blues without any booze?  

After a week long "fight" with FLIP that really was an ongoing sort of fight after he closed his eyes and basically pinned the tail on the Bad Option of getting me back for some imagined slight, he decided it was time to get the dregs of my stuff (approximately one car load) out of his house.  I noted that it would include the Best Cat Ever, Azrael, who I've had for 8 years.  I'm sure it is no surprise that there isn't a strand of thought about this that was pleasant.  Getting the rest of my dregs was like the equivalent of vacuuming up every corner of his house to be sure that nothing of me exists there at all.  

The worst of it was to open the cat carrier door.  Azrael loves both me and FLIP.  She readily stepped into it to check it out since she has a ton of trust.  I then put her outside in it for air as I got the last of the things that I could fit into my car.  

At the old place, she was able to come and go as she pleased.  The scents of every season,  beautiful spring and summer days...it was all hers to wander around.  The yard was expansive and far away from the road.  She was great about boundaries and protected her property.  She comes when you call her.  She became quite the athlete, racing up a thick tree just to stop mid-way and look at you to be sure that you were taking in her prowess.  

Now she is back in an apartment.  All she can do is look out the window but not go anywhere.   I feel like I've jailed her.  She was friends with his dog and now she has only guinea pigs who will simply stare at her and hope that she will give them some munchies.

Her response here has been good thus far, but I'm not sure that she really knows yet that she isn't going outside.  If FLIP and I were still somewhat together or friendly, I could allow her to go over there some days to enjoy what she enjoys.

The other guilt is regarding FLIP.  I hate doing this to him.  He has crossed so many lines, including knocking on my door at 11:38pm the other night, waking up my daughter.  He has hurt me with so much disrespect during this relationship that rationally, I should be able to forgive.  But there are just too many deep seated emotional stab wounds.  He doesn't apologize for much.  He turns it around instead so that I'm the one who has to apologize.  So while I understand how unhealthy this relationship really was, I still feel bad.  I guess that's just one of those things I inherited from my mom.  He's called me every name in the book, he's told me during moments of heated exchange about how great sex was with his ex, about how even certain people were much better than me.  But when sober of anger, he insists this was all just to upset me.  This is just one thing of so many.  So I know the decision is a good one....and yet, while he is feeling upset that I left and won't apologize, I am feeling bad for all of it.  He does not see himself or the vengeful tendencies that he has.  Instead he parrots what I say to him.  For instance, "FLIP, you are acting like a total doo doo head!".  Then he would say to me "YOU are acting like a total doo doo head!"  And there you have a good amount of what is being said, just insert whatever adjective and it'll work.

Man, I hate Malfoy's dad.  He is such an evil, pompous ass.

The only other guilt is my not hiding the chocolate well enough.  It appears that my girl ate a bunch of it while I was not looking today.  That explains a lot.

Oh I hate this part....Gary Oldman's character dies.  Can't Harry have anything?  Sheesh!

On a bright note, I finally went out and had a fabulous time with an old friend today.  Time ticked at an advanced speed.  We shared drinks and appetizers and company.  Sometimes that's all you need.  That hug of an old friend that reminds you of how much space apart does not matter.  Just time together.

Even Harry Potter won out in the end of this one as he said to Voldemort...."You're the weak one. And you'll never know love,or friendship. And I feel sorry for you."