gratitude

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Homeward Bound

August 17, 2010 in Uncategorized | 1 comment

I might die. I very well could, mind you, but I most likely won’t. Not today at least. I hope not. That would surely muck up things; I haven’t cleaned out my underwear drawer in ages, and that would just leave that job for someone else, some poor unsuspecting person unfamiliar with my “foundation garments”. But anyway.

I probably, most likely, won’t die today. So there’s that. Husband M and Daughter G left me again for another mini-trip- I know, this is twice in two weeks – so I’ve been alone and thus doing some serious thinking. And here’s the thing: somewhere along the line, these two people who control my life at every turn, frazzle me till my nerves are aflame, leave their shoes all over the damn place, well, somewhere they became my life. And, not that I’m not happy with me just being me, I am. But these people need to come home. To sleep in my bed. To breathe their sweet breath into mine, curl their sweaty limbs into mine. I need these people. Yes, the little one and the big grumpy one. Godspeed.

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Naked with Oprah & Martin Eisenstadt

August 8, 2010 in Uncategorized | 2 comments

The greatest words ever spoken were heard at my house last week. “I’m taking the girl to visit my parents this weekend,” Husband M said, in what I consider to be his 3rd most romantic statement ever. The passion was too great to describe in detail here, but I’m thinking I flew into his arms and then made him some microwave bacon, a nuance only his soul mate would throw into the mix.
I remained happy for another day, picturing all the things I would do and accomplish and be hailed for in the days they would be gone, until I crashed and burned when they left.
I forgave myself for the first day of my depression. My family just left me, for godssake. I deserved to lay in the dark and contemplate death. The next day, I instituted the Naked Policy (which is actually pronounced the “Nekkid Policy”), meaning I would rejoice in not having to put on clothes when no one is at my house. I cleared my TiVo selections and even watched a movie. I finished that scandalous Oprah book and also read another about this Washington pundit Martin Eisenstadt, until I realized halfway through that this was actually a political satire, and what I thought was inside politics was actually a bunch of BS. (Perhaps I should have Googled him – or at least have read the back cover – before committing my nakey time to chapters of drunken political rollicking which I am sure to get mixed up in the future with the actual true* accounts I’ve read.)
I awoke on the 3rd day a new woman. I TOOK A SHOWER (I put that in big letters as it was a MAJOR ACCOMPLISHMENT) and took myself to lunch (M left me Longhorn** gift cards so I wouldn’t starve while he was gone.) Then I went for a haircut. It turned out my lady was 2 appointments behind, and she was apologizing all over the place, so I got a facial instead and rescheduled my cut (okay, yes, and color) for Tues. Thank God it was a really good facial, or that right there could have sent me over the edge.
Okay, so here’s the thing. I was finally adjusting to the “me-on-my-own-nakey-and-ordering-takeout” thing when M called from the road today and said they are halfway home. MY GIRL!!!!!!!!!!! MY HUSBAND!!!!!!!!!!!! My heart is pounding just waiting for them to arrive.

* I know there are no actual true accounts of D.C. politics.
** Don’t you judge me for eating at Longhorn. If you have one near you and snub your nose at it, I pity you. I really do.

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Seven Year Itch Begone

June 3, 2010 in Uncategorized | 4 comments

I’m going to be groped by a man half my age later today. Or at least that’s what I understood when I registered for a physical assessment with a personal trainer the other day, so he’d better not let me down. I don’t know if I’ll choose to use his services or not but I may as well learn how to use the machines at the gym. (And be groped, of course.)

I’ve only been to this club once before, but with only a cursory glance I sized up the ladies working out as mostly being Hooters girls. This was helpful to me when selecting my gym attire. Today I’m wearing my dolphin shorts and suntan support hose. Nah, just joking, but I do have some slouch socks in my bag in case I feel out of place once I get there. However, I don’t have a spray tan and I’m not wearing make-up like I’m going on a date. You may even be able to see my panty line, I’m not sure. Basically, everything about me screams “NOT A HOOTERS GIRL!!!”, from the time I pull up in my wagon blasting old Rick Springfield music till the time (10 minutes later) when I stumble back to it, gasping and wheezing the entire way.

I just hope this trainer doesn’t paw at my core. I took a belly dancing class the other day and I can hardly move my middle around. (Shimmying is much harder than it looks.) Until I felt the pain of ten thousand knives stabbing me where I didn’t even know I had muscles, I could have sworn my top part was connected to my bottom part just by some ribs and backbone. And this may surprise  you, but it’s a good thing I have M, because I don’t think my belly dancing skills could attract any eligible men outside of a poor sheep herder. Make that a poor, blind sheep herder. I have all the smooth moves you’d expect from a conservative white girl in the burbs. [Note to self: Perhaps stick to "The Robot" as go-to dance?]

Anyway, I’m doing all this talking and I need to be preparing myself for my appointment. I suppose you’d say sticking socks in my bra might be a little over-the-top, right? Aw, you are never any fun. Fine, I will go as-is and hope for the best. If y’all don’t hear from me by tomorrow, that means I’ve run away with the 20-year-old trainer. (I’ll bet they’re always trolling for older, whiney, spoiled alcoholic women to sweep off their feet.)

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Memorial Day Math

May 31, 2010 in Uncategorized | 2 comments

The ongoing wars in Afghanistan and Iraq have produced approximately 5500 U.S. casualties since 2001.

There are about 15 children in little G’s preschool class. I love each of those kids and their different personalities. I see the happiness in their little faces when their proud parents pick them up in the afternoons. I would be devastated if anything happened to one of these precious children.

5500 casualties is roughly equal to 370 preschool classes being wiped out. 5500 mothers will never see their children again. We are losing sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, and friends almost every day.

This is not a political post. I am just trying to remind myself that Memorial Day is about more than BBQ and corn on the cob.

Oh, but this part is a little political/religious: To anyone who pickets military funerals with signs that say “God Hates You”, perhaps you should reconsider your faith. Yes, I know you are protected by the First Amendment. I’m just saying a god who hates people doesn’t sound very appealing to me. Just my 2 cents.

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Marital Performance Review

April 9, 2010 in Uncategorized | 19 comments

Ultimate Blog Party 2010“>
Welcome to everyone from the Blog Party! This is where I ramble daily about life in recovery, living in the South, and other people’s business. I hope y’all enjoy it and come back to visit often!

M and I went on a date yesterday. This is only newsworthy because that, like, never happens. We haven’t been very good about spending time together as a couple since little G came along, to the point where we’ve only had a babysitter a few times (and mostly when Mommy was in rehab). I was delighted to find we still like one another. You know, you get to the point where all of your discussions are about kid stuff, or things we need to do, or decisions that need to be made. He’s heard my jokes a million times (still funny) and I’ve heard his (never funny but now I don’t bother with the courtesy laughs).

Would he still ask me out if he met me today, instead of in my younger, cuter years? Would I go? Well, it turns out the answers are yes and yes. Whaddya know? Then I dissect it further, as we over-thinkers tend to do, and ask “Would I go on the date even if I knew that he would take all the covers and I’d wake up with a balled up top sheet at the foot of  the bed every morning for the rest of my life?” It is at that point that I note the progress we’ve made in such areas as, “Don’t saw pipes on the mahogany table,” “Plants need water in order to survive,” and  ”Coasters are our friends,” and it gives me hope for our future. Baby steps. I’m thinking we’ll probably go on another date in a few years and maybe be able to tackle larger issues such as, “Shoes don’t go in various ‘staging areas’ throughout the house” and “Clean spilled food from oven to prevent fire when next operated.” Until then, I think we’re good.

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