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Don’t make me Jazz Hand – I can’t Jazz Hand today …

Today I feel … inadequate.

sad

I tend to pull away from people when I am upset with myself about something.

I need time to contemplate before seeking out a shoulder – time to contemplate if I even need to burden a shoulder.

I get very reserved, focused and quiet.

It’s definitely one of those days I don’t want anyone to ask “How are you?”

C’mon, we know most people don’t really want an honest answer to that.

I realize it’s a conventional nicety, but I ALWAYS feel obligated to work up a cheery “GREAT! How are YOU?” Whilst shaking pom-pons and somehow pulling off jazz hands at the same time.

hamster ball

Wish people would just say “Hello.”

I can say “Hello” back.

That I can do.

Just acknowledge me – I’ll acknowledge you back, we’re golden!

So yeah, clearly I’m still in stress ball mode.

_____________________

I read the beginning of an amazing novel yesterday and had this stunned, authentic moment of “Holy Crap! This is REALLY good!”

In that same moment, I also became painfully aware of how NOT good I am in the arts.  And no, there was no jealousy – there was a lot of pride and awe.

My fiancé wrote it.

We made a deal before he moved in with me that he would focus on his artistic side. Pursue his dreams. And I read this freaking epic flow of words and got so lost in and I KNOW, it must be published.

So, I began my retreat further back into my shell, because I’ve been feeling like I’m not holding up my end of the bargain, which is providing for my little family.

I have pets and people looking to me for emotional, physical and material support and I’m falling short.

I feel like I am anyway.

And that’s a horrible feeling.

What I do have an abundance of though, is love. And I’ll just keep plugging away at the other stuff … quietly.

avoid communication

(Here’s what my fiancé has been plugging away at if you care to peek.  http://neopompeii.com/)

 

Turning 46 – and not thinking I would (Oh, and some stuff about debauchery)

Tomorrow is my birthday.

I will be 46.  (I actually had to do the math today on a calculator – I wasn’t sure if I was going to be 46 or 47 … any of you forget too?)

*TANGENT* I’ve written a couple of posts that I deleted – because they contained photos I thought were beautiful, but they WERE me in various states of undress.   Artistic though – no boobs or privates.  I deleted them because I try to keep this site at least rated ‘PG’ – but I’m posting these pics now – and NOT deleting because at 45, almost 46, I should have confidence.   I should document myself before I sag, and I should trust that those of you reading this, are READING because you like the written word and probably have some tolerance and admiration for self-expression.  I need to trust this.  So here we go.  The photos I posted, then woke up and thought “FUCK! That’s TOO X-rated for my site!”  When they’re SO not.

*TANGENT OVER*

Me, in the 'Sideways' (movie) chair - the light playing on my undies is the sun coming through the wicker holes.  I keep telling myself,

Me, in the ‘Sideways’ (movie) chair – the light playing on my undies is the sun coming through the wicker holes. I keep telling myself, “It’s just a bare back! CHILL!”

My legs and tummy.  Jim caught the perfect angle.  And again, I had to tell myself to chill - it's not Xrated.

My legs and tummy. Jim caught the perfect angle. And again, I had to tell myself to chill – it’s not Xrated.

Just legs.  And I love the light from the door window shutters playing across them.

Just legs. And I love the light from the door window shutters playing across them.

I’ve never been one of those chicks that have multiple ’29th’ birthdays, refusing to hit their 30’s – or have ever lied about my age.  Ok – to be fair, I DID age myself in my handwritten English passport when I was 20 to be able to accompany my English friend to a bar.

Totally worked.

But then before I traveled again, I had to get a freaking new passport.

Fail.

SO I was asked today: “Are you excited about your birthday?”

And honestly, for me at least, the older I get the less excited I get.

I’m just surprised and grateful to be alive after all the debauchery in my 20’s.  I seriously, SERIOUSLY did NOT see me making it to 40.

Although, two things consistently happen on that ‘special’ day.

1.  I wake up and have that momentary “It’s my birthday!” thought.

2. I want to look pretty for the day.

So when I took my quick-lunch and headed to Ross with a $9 limit (in my head) for a new dress – I was happy to leave the store with a $7.49 clearance outfit that will give me that ‘new outfit feeling.’

That feeling is so funny isn’t it?

Unless people see you week after week in the same stuff, if you’re wearing something new, no one else knows it, yet – you carry yourself differently. LOL!

Anyway – back to being an adult and not thinking I’d make it there.

I was a VERY good girl in my youth.   I was.  And when I hit my 20’s, I guess I felt like I had to make up for lost time.

I dated some bad boys.

I became the epicenter of some very bad things.

I recall one night, at a warehouse rave that even cops would enter, see the debauchery and decide, “Um, yeah – no – we’re not getting into this” when I had tried Ecstasy for the first and only time.

I was in the VIP room – my boyfriend at the time was DJing the event.

We were in a circle just chatting.

When everyone suddenly hushed.  Now, I’m feeling good.  And enjoying the moment and keep talking.

I noticed the look on everyone elses faces … and look up.

And there is a gun.

image

To my head.

What I hadn’t noticed, was that the host of the party, was sitting on the ground, execution style (on his knees, hands behind head) with another gun to HIS head.

They asked us to remove all jewelry and were taking the money the host charged to get into the event.

The first words out of my mouth??

“You just ruined my high.”

These were crazy times.  Bonkers days that rolled into nights and back into days and “Shall we go get breakfast?” as we squinted at the sun.

There was retaliation that night.

And shortly after – a friend of ours was tortured and killed.

Dangerous times.

And I know who was behind it – and for the life of me – or for his life, I cannot remember his name.

And I’m sorry for that.

And I’m sorry that I was a part of that world.

I was also given a knife and much trust in watching the door for other raves – taking money in a city RIDDLED with gang activity.

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Me?!  The innocent British girl who was still playing with Barbies until 16?

So, you can see – that my 46th birthday was not anticipated.

I can thank my son for that.

But I do think back – and I look at my life today – and I think, anyone can change.

I don’t see hopelessness where others do.

I don’t see losers where others do – because ‘losers’ are a state of mind – or a stage of life.

I STILL see SUCH good.

And so tomorrow – I will be SO grateful to have reached 46.  FORTY FREAKING SIX! With a healthy, loving, talented son and an amazing, talented, beautiful fiance – and embrace my years.

Mothers Day 2015

What a wonderful weekend.

Spent with loved ones.

I’m finding out the most avoided tasks can be fun with a partner.  The yard is cleared – weeded – raked.

Mothers Day found me very sleepy.  Spent a lot of time catching up on sleep and in the process, laundry didn’t get done.  So tonight I’ll be musing from the Laundromat … that will be different.

Night time edition – does that mean I can talk more about the undies that fall to the ground from the dryer?

Anyway – here’s some highlights from Mothers Day.  My son literally gave me the shirt off of his back as I was chilly in the restaurant.  What a chivalrous young man he’s become.

And, it’s perfectly acceptable by the way, at a buffet, to use dessert as an intermission before resuming with other food items. 😉

Mothers Day 1

 

Mothers Day 2

Mothers Day 3

Mothers Day 4

 

Until tonight …

Have a great Monday!

 

Le Drape & Butters

I’ve had neither the discipline nor the inspiration to write of late.  Not even a sea of new faces at the Laundromat last Sunday could tempt me.

Needless to say, there have been a LOT of life/routine changes.

New dynamics in the house: Two new roomies.

Getting used to living with someone you didn’t give birth to is weird!

Although, living with someone you DID give birth to has its moments too …

cleaning

Adjusting has been surprisingly easy actually.  It certainly helps being über comfortable with that person to begin with.

Helps that they spoon and tell you ‘I love you’ first thing in the morning even before you brush your teeth.

AND … Butters is enjoying her new friend the cat. That alone, was a HUGE relief for me!!

It was the only variable I was terrified could go horribly wrong!

I was certain, worrier that I am, that I would be getting a phone call advising that either:  A) Butters eyeball was now located on cat’s claw. Or, B) Butters had just ended all 9 of the cats’ lives.

But those things did not happen.  It’s a freaking miracle as far as I’m concerned.  Okay, maybe not, probably the prep work, patience and work we put into their introductions had a lot to do with that one – and the fact that both fur kids are inherently sweet-natured.

Cat has a name. Draper. Poor Draper – reducing him to ‘The Cat.’

Le Drape.

draper

He’s so mellow – except when he gets a little bonkers in the morning … then there is that whole run at top speed from one room to the next feline ‘thing’ that happens.

He’s also learned to sit on the rug in front of the fridge alongside Butters when I am making my lunch sandwich in the morning.

Clever. Clever boy.

So they each got a bit of cheese and lunch meat, because they were being freaking adorable – which, started a bad habit.

I own it!  My fault!  Totally my fault.  But they were working together and getting along so WELL during begging!

So anyway, here they are staring at ‘dad’ wanting some of HIS food.  You’re welcome honey.

draper and butters beg

They are the alpha’s in the house, no doubt. They have us VERY well-trained.

I even managed to have one of those moments I only read about on the internet. My fiancée explaining that he came to bed only to find me, snoozing diagonally across the king sized bed – Draper curled in between my legs and Butters smashed up against my side – leaving him with the conundrum of ‘where the hell am I sleeping??’

cat dog bed

SO now you’re caught up, turns out I will not be the cat lady – just a one cat gal – and a happy ever after after all.

ring

A message from Butters

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I know Butters, I know. And I’m trying.

I’ve tried alerting the manager of the home.  I’ve tried visiting the home – under the guise of passing off some old toys for the pup.

I try telling the pup “Good Boy!” when I get home.

Today – I was playing outside with Butters – and the neighbors dog ran for his tennis ball that we had given him.  He wanted to play.

I couldn’t play with him.

And no one inside his ‘home’ will play with him.

So how long until he just ‘gives up’?

I noticed him outside earlier with the toys we’d given him, and am sharing here.

Before I played with Butters:

image

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After playing with Butters, and the tennis ball retrieved in attempt to join in:

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It gets cold here … freezing at night and to see this pup curled up into the tightest ball to stay warm.  He hears someone in the house close to the door and digs and scratches at the door wanting to be inside.

It breaks my heart.

If the ‘owners’ ever respond to the notices that they are not allowed to have this dog – I hope I can count on you to help me find him a forever home.