Oh the Weather is outside

So, snow. Yup. Snow on December 19th. Lots of it here in the Philly area - but where I live probably has about 5 inches as of now. So with the threat of snow, I decided today was a cookie baking day. I've made some snickerdoodles, mexican wedding cakes, gingerbread rounds (too lazy for men making), Oatmeal Toffee Chip Cookies, and Blondie bars. That should keep everyone happy.

I drank some wine and watched The Hangover, Whatever Works and The Soloist. I had seen The Hangover before, and it was just as good on second watch. I LOVED Whatever Works. Larry David and Woody Allen is a good combo. The Soloist made me stabby.

Presents are wrapped. I am terribly excited to give the boy his gifts. I got him some good stuff, and I think (I hope) he'll like them.

That's it. Life's been pretty boring lately. Movies, baking and wine in the snow.

You mind if I have some of your tasty beverage to wash this down?

Quickly! Ketchup! Catsup! Catch Up!

NaNoWriMo is eating my soul. Evidently I still suck at doing anything on a deadline - as if my less than stellar high school & college years weren't indication enough. I am woefully behind in my novel and I HATE IT. I am half heartedly plugging along but mostly am thinking I will work on my outline more and hopefully restart using the book the boy got me in January.

What I think is hilarious is that this blog was supposed to be the thing that helped me write every day (it didn't). So really, I was never going to be able to force myself to write 1700 words a day - Every day. So I'll keep trying. We'll see. Maybe I'll surprise myself. And really? Thanksgiving is a whole bunch of time I don't want to spend with my family...so maybe I'll write.

I saw a Serious Man over the weekend. Not exactly the Cohen Brothers best work. I'm still wondering exactly what the niche is for that movie.

I am reading "The Dome". Stephen King needs a better editor.

That's it. I'm reading, writing and seeing sorta bad movies.

Standing of the Verge

NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow. And I'm doing it this time - I've signed up, and my boy bought me a book on novel writing in a month. I'm ready to go...I'm nervous and scared and excited and thrilled.

For once in my life too I have someone standing in my corner cheering me on. Of all the things that this person has given me - the faith that they have given me in myself is amazing. I can't thank him enough for the support and love he's given me over the last year...knowing that someone is interested in you, cares about what you care about and chooses not to mock your passions but indulge them is amazing. I'm a lucky girl.

Speaking of the boy - we've progressed rather swimmingly to the next level of our relationship. We're out and we're proud. Or something like that. Last week we went to movie and dinner with his kids. It was nice, if not a little awkward for me, but we all spent time together which was nice.

I'm having a bit of crisis of faith lately. My life has not exactly been going the way I planned, I'm on the outs with my family, I'm stuck in the world's tiniest apartment, in a job I FUCKING HATE, etc etc etc... But I know that I can and will figure this all out and that when it's all over with I will emerge from the other end a happier lady.

So I'm off to work on my outline and finish my book. You may not hear much from me in November, but hopefully in December there will be 50,000 written words.

Girl you're looking at two big spenders

I had been kicking around going back to see Springsteen again on his last night in Philly 10/20. I knew I'd be going it alone, and I felt some trepidation about that, so I waited until the absolute last moment to buy my ticket and was rewarded with perhaps the best seat in the house (from my standpoint). Last row in the Spectrum - behind the stage. Sounds sucky, right? But it wasn't. There were video monitors and the stage is fairly open and Bruce was in full show mode... so he played up to the crowd even in the back. Plus there was plenty of room to dance - and man, I danced.

I really wanted to see "Born in The USA" preformed in its entirety. How could I not? Jeez, I don't know if there is an album that encapsulates 1984 better than that one. I wanted to a part of the E Street band with all my heart that year. In 85 I got the Springsteen live 75-85 box set and I poured over the pictures and listened and listened and listened (I am fairly certain that I can recite word for word the 20 minute chat Bruce has at the start of "Growin' Up").

I got to the Spectrum about 45 minutes early and without Mr. Pants there to direct me, I wandered past my section, couldn't find the crab fries, and waited forever to pee. The plus side is without Mr. Pants there I was able to push my way through the crowd without feeling bad and I was able to read for a bit once I got to my seat. Having a book there was a great relief for me (when I'm nervous reading shuts me down) and a huge source of amusement for the people in my section, which led to a nice ice breaker, so even though I was alone, I felt like I was part of a common experience.

Around 8:20 Bruce and Band took the stage and ripped into the "Price you Pay" - which hasn't been played live since 81. Why they chose to play it the last night in Philly is beyond me, but it was a great night if you love "The River" - 3 tracks(and 1 outtake) from it in one night - "The Price You Pay", "The River", "Hungry Heart", & "Loose Ends" - if only "You Can Look (but you better not touch)" was played. Anyway they played and played and played... and Bruce was in great spirits - surprising me time and time again - with the soul he sang "I'm on Fire", with the opening strains of "The River" which forced me to send out several texts to people i haven't talked to in ages announcing THE MOTHERFUCKING RIVER because everyone knows that drunk Maria loves that song (if you've seen me bombed, you've heard me sing "The River" or "Glory Days" - what can I say? I'm maudlin). But the highlight of my night? "Spirit in the Night". That is one of my favorite songs EVER. Not just a Springsteen song, not just live, no just from my childhood, but from the moment I heard it until now - recorded a year before my birth - you could say I've loved this song as long as I've loved music.

I could continue to wax poetic about this concert and all of the songs on an individual basis, but I'll never do it justice, so I'll leave you here with a set list:

Setlist:
The Price You Pay (with Curt Ramm)
Wrecking Ball (with Curt Ramm)
Out in the Street
Hungry Heart
Working on a Dream
Born in the U.S.A.
Cover Me
Darlington County
Working on the Highway
Downbound Train
I'm on Fire
No Surrender
Bobby Jean
I'm Goin' Down
Glory Days
Dancing in the Dark
My Hometown
The Promised Land
The River
Long Walk Home
The Rising
Born to Run
Higher and Higher (with Curt Ramm)
* * *
Spirit in the Night (with Vini Lopez)
Loose Ends
Kitty's Back (with Curt Ramm)
American Land (with Curt Ramm)
Save the Last Dance for Me
Waitin' on a Sunny Day
Thunder Road
Rosalita (with Curt Ramm)

And two videos - "Spirit in the Night" because I love it. And "Higher and Higher", which if you've never seen Bruce Springsteen and the E Street band - this cover is reason enough that you should - Bruce pulled a sign out of the audience, they worked out the keys right there in front of everyone and fucking killed - look at the fun the crowd is having - look at the fun the band is having - seriously. Catch them next time they're near you - you won't regret it.

Tramps like us

Last night Mr. Pants and I went to the Spectrum to see Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. There's a lot of tension that goes into going to a concert for me. I hate crowds, people, drunk people (except me), kids, screamers, etc etc etc... So when I go it has to be a band I LOVE. I love Bruce and he didn't disappoint last night. The band sounded great and they seemed to have a really good time playing.

The show was at the Spectrum and for you non locals - The Spectrum was built in 1967 and is being torn down this year. As I stood in line to pee (a line that stretched up the stairs and around the corner - there are 10 stalls in that ladies' room and like 15000 girls that have thimble size bladders who have been boozing all afternoon) I started to think about how many times I've stood there to pee over the years. I tried to think of all the concerts I've seen. And all I could remember is how much I adored Meatloaf. Really. The Dead, The Grateful Dead, Inxs, The Cure, Bob Seger, REM, Bruce, and it all comes down to Meatloaf, behind the stage with Adam. Jesus. In all fairness though, it was a great show.

The other thought that got me as I stood there listening to Bruce playing Born To Run in its entirety, of how many times I listened to that album as a kid thinking what my life would be like. It occurred to me that that guy standing next to me probably thought at one time that the town he grew up in was "a death trap, a suicide wrap" and thought "we've got to get out while we're young" or that girl standing next me probably identifies herself as that "barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a dodge drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain". For me, it's always been the melancholy that made me love Bruce. I've always felt that his music was live in the moment type stuff... and that moment wasn't a very happy place. When I was little I would sneak records from my brothers' room and pour over the lyrics while I listened to them. One of my favorites was Born to Run. I would read the lyrics and listen to the songs and think it was this older world I didn't quite get, but that I would some day. Some day, a boy saying "You ain't a beauty, but hey, you're alright" would make sense. As my Bruce love moved past Born to Run, I feel in love with his lyrics. The working class teenage and young adult world that the subjects of Springsteen's songs often came back to. I remember listening to The River over and over again, and thinking how sad it seemed that just because he knocked up some girl he had to give away everything, and how they both pretended it didn't matter. I loved the bittersweet edge to his music. The first time I heard Jersey Girl (which is actually a Tom Waits song) and thought well, who else but Bruce could call the kid a brat and tell his girl to fix her self up so they could go to the shore. Seriously. Imagine any boy saying these things to you. Would you put up with it? Really?!

But that's the beauty of Bruce Springsteen music. No one is completely the trapped working class hero, or the lonely young girl willing to settle, but romantically we see ourselves as those things. We identify a piece of ourselves with those lyrics. Or at least I do. Let's face it, Bruce has made himself a very wealthy man pandering to those folks. And while he's getting a little long in the tooth (The Boss is 60), he is as energetic as I've ever seen him. The crowd on the other hand was amazingly diverse.

I expected people in their 40s and 50s and there were a lot of them. There were also a lot of people my age and younger, but I was truly shocked at how young. I girl who couldn't have been older than 11 had a sign asking if she could sing. I guess I should back up, Bruce has been doing this thing lately where he goes around collecting the signs the audience members have and playing some of the requests. The best one at the Philly show I was at was the cover of the AARP magazine with him on the cover (the request was for Lil bit o' soul). Occasionally Bruce will play something that is a cover and once or twice something the band has never played before (I think it was Boston this year, someone had a sign for I Want To Be Sedated and he said that he thought they were trying to stump the band. After a conference with Stevie and Nils they got it together). Back to the little girl...Bruce brought her on stage and she sang Waitin' On A Sunny Day, after which he planted a kiss on her and put her back with her folks. During Dancin' in the Dark he brought another young girl up and they danced together. It was a really family feel.

I'm going back Tuesday I think to hear Born in the USA in it's full. Darlington County is my favorite Bruce song. I can't explain why. So hopefully I will have a less long winded entry after the fact.

A concept I can't grasp

Lately there are two lyrics that have been running through my head on repeat. The first is from The Grateful Dead's "Ripple" and the second is from Springsteen's "The Wrestler". They are intertwined in my mind and while the reason that they are both stuck in my head is obvious, I can't quite figure out the deeper meaning.

Ripple: But if you fall, you fall alone. If you stand, then who's to guide you? If I knew the way, I would take you home

Bruce: These things that have comforted me, I drive away. This place that is my home I cannot stay

I would assume that it's my homesickness that is propelling these lyrics around my head. And I'll admit that as Mr. Pants describes the way Al is laying on the couch or how loud Boo cries at night, I feel a hollowness in the pit of my stomach. I miss them. And there are times, as I'm trying to figure out this new relationship that I think - I have a comfortable pair of sneakers at home, why the fuck am I trying to break these new ones in?

I wonder how long the new will feel new, and if as most things do as they age, the old will take on that shiny fond memory of the past. Will I wax poetic about how Mr. Pants and I would pour over the EW Fall Preview completely forgetting that he would pick every awful High School "Drama" to record? Will I forget that even after the show was a proven loser he would stick with it and insist it would get better with no regard to my frustration?

I'm tired of dealing with this. I almost wish I could proclaim that I have had enough...I've sufficiently fucked up this life. I'd like a new one. I will treat it better, I promise. I'll feed it and walk it and give it plenty of life kisses. And then six months from now I'll have a myriad of issues that make my new life less shiny and fun. And I'll want to trade it in. Maybe for the life I'm living now. Isn't that essentially what I've been doing? Fucking things up, abandoning them and moving on? Does my lack of sticktoitiveness make me less of a person? Is it wrecking my chances at happiness? I think it is...I need to stick to things. Be less Maria like and more focused.

Maybe that will change my feeling of homelessness. I have a perfectly good place to rest my head every night. I have a nice gentleman who spends a bit of time with me. I have an awesome cat who has developed this really kick ass personality of late. But I don't have a home. That place where I can be me and feel happy, safe and comfortable. I'm really worried about that. I think we all need that place.

I wish I knew how to get home and how to be happy there.

Don't do what Donnie Don't does

Ugh. I haven't updated in awhile. This peaked in late July and plummeted shortly there after. I've been trying to pick up the pieces and once I gathered most of them up, the stuff that wasn't a fucking disaster became of fucking disaster. I'm trying to fix it - I hope I can.

So, let's see, what have I been up to for the last month? I drank some beers with friends. Over shared with my niece. Told a dude in a bar to "Cram it with walnuts, ugly". Watched Dirty work. Twice. Listened to a lot of Springsteen. Spent a lot of nights on my couch, in my underpants petting my cat.

There's more, but I'm tired and going to go watch some tv before I climb into bed. More tomorrow.... maybe.

Come aboard, we're expecting you...

I've started and stopped this entry about 9 times tonight. I know what I want to say, I just don't know how to get it out. Let's start now and work our way back shall we?

I'm sitting at my boss' house watching Bruce Springsteen in concert (he's got 6 discs of Springsteen live on his Escient -I'm loving life!). There is a muppet curled up next to my butt. A muppet that was sick this week and that I'm really happy is all better. I'm dog sitting. Which has been torturous with the swimming and hot tubing and reading and watching movies. Somehow I persevere.

I woke up this morning to a panicky call from my friend Em (who is also my boss' daughter) telling me that the muppet was better, but that our friend Noah was in a lot of pain. His cat got out. And since the last cat that got out never came back, he was really fucked up. There was no hesitation, I decided I was going there to help them look. Before I could get out of the shower and on my way Mr. Jim had been found. After Noah called to thank me for offering to come, I burst into tears. The joy in his voice from finding Jim was overwhelming. I love that kid a lot. He's like the little brother I never had. He's a fuck up, don't get me wrong, I know he is, but he's special too. I don't make friends easily or quickly and there was long period of time that I hated that kid (our working relationship is very dependant on one another). But somewhere it became more. He calls me Pennsylvania Mom when I'm mothering him to excess and Doog most other times. He's That Kid when he's done something dumb - like put a sparkler and cigarette out on his leg. Or shaved his whole head but left just a strip of hair off the back so he resembles a Guinea pig. He's mostly My Friend Noah though. We'll always be friends... I believe that. I don't think that they are just words. I'm fortunate to have him in my life. He met my folks and talked baseball with my pop for hours. He was sweet to my mom. He's quiet and sweet and smart and funny. He's a good kid. But he should wear adult shoes. And cut his hair. And shower more. And drink less. And keep being awesome.

Now for the awkward segue...

So, this phone call that woke me up this morning? Woke me up at my boyfriend's house. I have a boyfriend. I could explain to you how and when and why. Or I could leave it at that. It's probably more pleasant to leave it at that. Those of you that read this because you know me will facebook me or call or email and ask for explanations. Those of you that read this because the internet is full of idiots tossing their life stories up there for some voyeuristic thrill and it's easy to get sucked in, I'm sorry their aren't more details. But everyone should know these things:
I'm sorry I lied about being lonely.
This isn't the reason my marriage ended.
I'm happy. Having this person in my life makes me really happy.
He's good to me and we have oodles of stuff in common.
He isn't a loser (although he'll be the first to deny this) but he's not a loser by my standards. No drug addiction, no alcoholism, not abusive, has a job.
That job? It's at the same company I work at.
It's not Noah.
The situation is ugly, I know it is. I know explaining it here in skeletal form makes it seem like I'm ashamed of it. I'm not. I'm proud. But I also know that there is a lot of baggage and there are a lot of people who can be hurt or saddened by this. I wanted to wait until I was sure this had some permanence. I didn't want to say "I have a boyfriend" in March only to turn around in April and say "Never mind". So I've had a boyfriend for awhile. He's a good dude. And I like him. I'm lucky.

Alright enough love fest. I'm going to take my muppet and go to bed. Good night Internet.

This entry is being written from Bed

Which is where I ate dinner last night, where I read until dawn and then slept until 2 PM, then got up went to see my dad, made kick ass tacos and then retired back to the bed. I would probably have eaten the tacos in bed, but that seems gross and like I'd have to do a lot more laundry.

Let's start at the beginning and work our way forward shall we?

Friday - Happy Hour - Same assholes, same place. I had 1.5 beers in 4 hours and NO SMOKES! Again! Noah and I went out for some drinks on Thursday and I didn't smoke either. I think (I hope) I am doing pretty fucking good at this. After happy hour I went in search of The Sims 3 but since I am unsure that it will work on my laptop I gave up after 2 stores didn't have it in stock. Chipotle and a Simpsons marathon wrapped up the night.

Saturday! Up early and loaded up my laundry to go home - or at least what used to be my home. I got there and Mr. Pants had done the nicest thing he's done in a really long time. I know that is going to seem awful to say considering I have a shitload of jewelry, I got flowers on every flower giving holiday and candy AND a shot glass from every trip he ever went on, but this gesture made me just about weep with pleasure. He made me an Apple Cake. I know you're thinking big fucking deal. But to me it was huge. He hates to bake and hates fatty stuff too. I love both. But I adore apple cake and I can't make a decent one to save my motherfucking life. The cake he made was PHENOMENAL. It had coconut in it and a buttermilk glaze. Sweet Zombie Jesus - it was delicious. I did some wash and we spent the day doing errandy stuff.

Comic book store - Bought a couple new issues of The Stand.
Borders bought:
Stephen King - Before Sunset
Joshilyn Jackson- The Girl who Stopped Swimming
Janelle Brown - All We Ever Wanted Was Everything.
Bed Bath and Beyond- bought new pillows, grill brush & bath mats (which I'm returning)
Lunch at CPK - I had the Pear and Gorgonzola Pizza.
Then we went to The Sale (local flea market type place) where he bought a bunch of crap and I wandered around.

By 5:30 he was off to hang out with friends and I was ready to go home. Got home and changed into pjs and jumped in bed with Duma Key - which I've read before but really enjoyed upon a second read. I stayed up all night reading and texting / talking to friends. By the time I fell asleep morning light was pouring through the windows. I slept till 2 - got up and putzed around. Went over to see my pop - we watched Caddy Shack. Went to Wegmans and spent a ton on food. Came home and made kick ass tacos which ate until I burst and then washed it down with some apple cake and climbed back in bed.

Bought a bunch more stuff from Fredericks of Hollywood I don't need (more heels) and listened to Pandora. Now I am going to read until midnite and then it is lights out.

Life is good - particularly the weekends. Dinana's health is on the good side of things right now and that makes me happy. We'll know for sure this week, but fingers and toes worked for now. We've been thinking about moving... of going somewhere and starting over. I've got to say that kid is doing an awesome job of convincing me we should. Of course she's 10 years my junior and is a tad more optimistic than I am, so perhaps I'll be a bit more cautious. But I am at least open for discussion on it.

Deep as a puddle

I'm tired and I have another UTI. Seriously. What the hell? I ordered some D-mannose so we'll see if that helps. But I am actually debating spending time with a dude named Bucket and letting him stretch my urethra. Yeah. Pain makes us do crazy things.

I seems like lately I have been spending a lot of time talking about Mr. Pants. Not in an "I miss him" way, but in the "we used to be a couple" way. I liked being a couple. I liked feeling like I was part of a team, and now that I've taken off my Team Pants Jersey I feel kind of lost. I miss the secret language of a long term relationship. The nicknames and things that consistently get the other person to laugh. Hell this blog is names after one of those times. I miss making dick and fart jokes and having someone crack up. I miss going to dinner on a Saturday. I miss sitting outside, smoking (oh GOD DO I MISS SMOKING - sorry) and talking. I miss playing Uno or Mancala (the bean game) or Spinners.

My friends will say this means I'm ready to date - to put myself out there - to get back on the horse. I get several emails a day about Match.com or Eharmony. I can't imagine sitting across from someone I don't know at a Red Lobster. Talking about my job, my family, my failed marriage all while I try to decide if his penis should enter my vagina. That seems like a lot of work. And for what? Someone to laugh at my awful jokes? Seems ridiculous

But I am lonely, kids. I won't lie. And I am afraid I'm going to die alone here - and my cat will have to nibble on my toes to sustain herself until someone misses me.

What if no one misses me?

Love is Futurama, smarties and Stephen King

My niece is having a bit of a health scare. I don't want to delve into it, because it's her business, but let's keep Dinana in our thoughts, okay?

My weekend sucked donkey dick. Thanks for asking.

Work was also sub par (again).

I'm not smoking. Which has resulted in my eating and eating and eating. Toast and cherries, subway sandwich, chips and cookie, chicken breast, fries, rice pudding and smarties.

Yesterday my brother came up and fixed a bunch of crap here, after he left I got a huge amount of Chinese food and ate until I fell asleep. Woke up and read Duma Key until I fell back to sleep. Then drove to Mon-key's house and read until I felt like it was too late to go home. And of course once I settled into bed I couldn't sleep. Which led to facebook updating and texting with work friends. I fell asleep eventually but woke up a bunch. Tonight I am going to watch Futurama, read Duma Key and eat smarties. Then I'm going to sleep like it's a sport I can medal in.

I have seen every episode of Family Guy, yet I can not stop watching it in reruns. I don't even really like this dumb show.

I'm on the couch, under a blanket, reading recipes. I wanted to play some video games, but my head is a busy place today and I'm turning some stuff over rather repeatedly. With no results.

Work today was sub par.

Although I did make an army of gummy bears on my desk at one point. That was the highlight of my day.

Not in the game or on the ball

When I was a kid my brothers wanted to teach me how to play sports - any sport would be a common ground. I mostly wanted to wear dresses and have tea parties. We spent a lot of time in the yard me with a bat in my hand and occasional tears running down my cheeks as things like "keep your eye on the ball" and "stand with your feet apart! Not that far! No! Too close!" were shouted at me. Until one day Chip said "Choke up one the bat!" and my little girl brain went "What the fuck?!" and immediately I positioned the bat under my chin and pretended to choke. This got a huge laugh from everyone and even as a child I knew a laugh was golden. Making them laugh would make me not have to practice free throws for hours. Or run. Or swing the dumb bat.

I was reminded of this tonight when we all went out to dinner. I've written about the lack of love in my family. We will never say I love you, but we will rip each other to shreds and cackle through the entire thing. I've often wondered if that has hindered the way I deal with people? I only mock the ones I love, but I do mock them mercilessly. In my family you will be made fun of for being too fat, too thin, too tan, too pale, too smart, too dumb, too eccentric, too conformist, and the list goes on and on and on. It is amazing how quick witted we can be when it is time to make fun of each other. It is obviously something we get from my dad.

Tonight Chip and I went to dinner with my folks. My dad wanted us all to go in one car. I'm not sure when the last time I was in the backseat with one of my brothers was when my dad was driving, but it made for a hysterically funny trip to the Mall. It started with: "He's on my side!" Then morphed into "I'm not touching you!" which quickly became "why are you hitting yourself?". Until my dad said it: "Do NOT make me come back there!" We collapsed in a fit of giggles and then asked "Will you just turn around and take us home?" "You're not just going to start swinging wildly, are you?" Even my mom was laughing. It was a good night.

Today was not a bad day at work. It wasn't great either, but it wasn't bad. My weekend was a good one - I got significantly drunk on Friday with the usual cast of assholes plus a dude named Bucket- who showed me his dick and balls. At different times and not sexually. The word urethrae was used A LOT. Saturday Mr. Pants and I did a million things and I didn't get home here until after 2 AM. Sunday - I overslept. Cleaned a little. Got coffee. Lounged around. Ate some awesome food. Watched Revolutionary Road - which really stuck with me and I enjoyed immensely. Had some Peach Pie (one slice - in case you are keeping count) and went to bed. A lovely day, if I say so myself.

Alright kids, this place smells like cat pee. I gotta scoop and put on my jammies. Catch you on the flip side

This little light of mine - I'm gonna turn it off

The last couple of days have been most displeasing. Between my dad's illness, work sucking a bag of dicks, family stuff, arguments with coworkers and friends alike, I am most unhappy.

In order to cheer myself up I am going to give you a list of my favorite words. I will often be talking to Monkey and one of us will interrupt the other with "That is a great word!" although I will admit that his range of vocabulary is vast compared to mine. Which will often lead to a discussion of what makes a word good or not. Yes, we do have hours and hours of nerdy conversations, thank you. It is deliciously dorky.

So here is a list of words that I adore:

• Phenomenal
• Icky
• Adorable
• Derelict
  
• Ornate
• Myriad
  
• Harangue
• ubiquitous
• omnipotent
  
• melancholy
• disingenuous
• Abrogate
• Oxymoron
• Juxtaposition
• Exacerbate

God damn, for a chick who uses words like "stressy" and "grouchy" all day long, I love me some vocabulary.

Things are bad here folks, I am not going to lie. I'm scared. And I'm really worried. So if I'm a little difficult or a little brittle (another decent word that sounds like it is) I'm sorry.

This is going to be a rough one

My good mood carried throughout the day. I made it until 4 before I had any kind of meltdown and as far a Wishy Meltdowns, it was a small one. I drove K back to her car after work and since I was halfway to my parent's house I decided to stop by. My mom was in the hospital last week so I wanted to see how she was doing. My pop was making dinner and I decided to root through the boxes of stuff he was donating to charity. I asked how he was doing.

The problem with his neck that we have been discussing off and on since he fell in March turned out to be a tumor.

And we're back to Radiation and possibly Chemo. Except this time my mom isn't able to take care of herself at all. She can't talk, she can't feed herself or go to the bathroom alone. She can't do anything for herself. My dad is her primary caregiver. The only person she speaks her 5 words a day to. The only one of us that she recognizes. Whose name she knows.

My dad has always been the person that I have turned to for everything. For emotional, moral and monetary support. The 1st person I call when there is a bug in my apartment or my toilet is wobbly. The person I call to discuss the latest political hot topic, the latest crazy news story, the big sports story. My dad is the one person who in my separation told me "Be happy. That's all that matters and you haven't been happy for along time." He's the guy who cares about my happiness. That's amazing to me. I love my Pop. There is no one in this world that means more to me than he does. I'm scared for him. For me.

I know that sounds selfish, but I am a Daddy's girl. Maybe it's being part of a blended family or being the baby by so many years, but I never felt like I fit in with my brothers. I wanted to. I used to crave for us to be close. To laugh and joke and end conversations with "I love you". In my family we never say that. We're mean and cutting and sarcastic. We're loud. And I've always been lil Ri (until I got fat I was Bird). Ri with her tats and drugs and drunk boyfriend. Ri with her aimless life and insistence that she won't have kids. Ri who can't settle down and doesn't know what she wants to do. Ri who will always live life looking for happiness and can't find it. Why can't she just settle down. Stay married. Work her shitty job and be satisfied. This is life, it's not about happiness it's about having a plan. Why can't she just follow the fucking PLAN?! So this is pretty fucking difficult for me. I feel very lonely in the fact that this person who loves me despite what a fucking weirdo I am and who understands my desire to be happy (and understand me) is sick. This person who doesn't question, and who has been not just my parent, but someone I admire, love and whose company I genuinely enjoy, not because he's my Pop, but because he is awesome. Quick witted, sarcastic, full of dry humor, intelligent and caring and has been the best dad I could ever imagine. I wouldn't be the person I am today without my dad. And I fucking like me.

But I hate to admit that I don't trust his judgment right now. My mom is bad. His health is bad. I worry about what will happen not just if my dad dies, but what if he is sick for a long time? When my grandfather died of cancer he was sick for awhile and by sick I mean hospital bed in the living room with morphine and home care. What if my dad is that bad? Who will care for my mom? Who will care for him? Am I strong enough for this? I don't think I am. And he won't plan for the worst - he acts like we're all crazy with our worrying and nonsense. We worry because we care.

And I don't want to lose my dad. Fuck that. I'm 35. And he's only fucking 73. This is bullshit.

The boys and I have some decisions to make. Decisions that my Pop will overthrow and the pussies we are, we'll back right down.

The plus side? The things that seemed important yesterday aren't. Those little crummy bits? Are just sprinkles on the icing of life. The things that aren't happiness but they aren't tumors either, so fuck them - I'll deal with them as they come. I'm thankful that I have brothers - who at times I give a bunch of grief to, but who are fiercely loyal to me & each other and to my dad. I'm thankful I have friends both old and new that I can turn to with this. I'm thankful that I am safe and loved and supported. This is bad, don't get me wrong Internet, I know I'm looking at some scary shit. But there is good in my life too. Lots of it. And my dad would be pleased that I see it that way.

And who knows? This slow moving cancer which has spread over the last 15 years from his prostate to his spine to his ribs to his neck, may take another 15 years to get to his brain or his liver or his lungs. Maybe this it will be vanquished or at least pushed back to sufficiently with the radiation (or yuck! Chemo)that he can go back to living his life and continue to care for the woman he loves fiercely and definitely. Without either of them having to go into a home. I'm optimistic here kids. Try and be there with me.

I can't believe I'm awake and typing either

What the fuck? How can I be awake this early and posting a boring as entry all with a smile on my face? It's a secret Internet. One that I'm not exactly ready to share, but oh, one that makes me very, very happy.

Stop what you're doing. Yes. I know. What I have to say here is thrilling. Oh the antics of a 35 year old separated woman with a cat (yes, I do believe it is law that I have at least 1 cat given my age and martial status) who works at a job she hates is definitely a thrilling read. I mean, what did I have for dinner last night? Did I drink? Will I lament about how I need to find another job ASAP at some point in this entry? Chicken, corn on the cob and potato salad. Friday night - a lot. Still no new prospects. So all the burning questions have been answered (speaking of burning - lady parts are all good so far). Stop reading. Close the browser, push away from your computer. If you are at work (Way to go! I'm pleased I am stopping your from being productive) make up an excuse to leave. Make it good. You are totally going to spend 2 hours watching UP! You must. If you've seen it already, fucking see it again. It's that good. Seriously. I am aware that it is a cartoon, thank you very much. But it so good. So very, very, very good. Go see it. And you will be glad you did. And really? If you are skating out of work to see a movie, even if it is a shitty movie, life is pretty good.

Back? Did you love it?

So on Friday I went to HH. The usual cast of misfits were there. We had a lovely time, bonded heavily... to the point where I agreed to go to Media with J&J one weekend. That is going to SUCK. I think I was over compensating for the fight Girl J and and I had last weekend. I'll have to figure out how to get out of it. Then I left around 9 and went to see UP! With the HS girls. That movie fucked my shit up. I sobbed... the front of my shirt was soaked. I would love to blame it on the amount of booze I consumed and my impending period, but it was just that touching of a tale. In my list of best Pixar movies it moves to #1, Disney movies it moves to #2 and would definitely be in my top 10 films of all time. You have to see this movie.

On Saturday after much wrangling and squabbling the HS girls and I made our way to Ocean City. We ate awesome food, sat on the beach, had some Kohr Brothers, bought Chocolate covered salt water taffy, argued over the merits of anything coconut flavored (I wast the pro side). Listened to hours of Bruce (My car = my music, ladies). It was nice. I am tying to figure out exactly if I should rent for a week by myself in Sea Isle or if I should just do 3 days in a hotel.

Yesterday I vegged out for a majority of the day.

And now I have to go get in the shower. I don't want to. But I'm going to. Because that's the kind of chick I am.

Oh, please let this good mood carry on throughout the day. Please.

It's a Fiesta

Oh dear. I had Chipotle for dinner, which I have washed down with a bunch of margaritas. So, ummm, I'm a lil' relaxed... yes, relaxed.

Tonight I went to Target. It occurred to me as I wandered around the Target that this is one of those times I miss my husband. I know. It's crazy to think that I, Ms. Unhappily Married for the last 10 years am finding things that I miss about being married. I miss laughing, laying bed and giggling like kids over stupid stuff like farts. I miss having someone to talk to in that secret language of relationships. You know, like those words and phrases you only use with each other that make no sense to anyone else. It wasn't all bad, I guess. But what I really miss and what I would trade just about anything is to have back is someone to wander around Target with me.

For example tonight I needed the following:
Toilet Paper
Hair Dye
Frizz Eaze Spray
Soap (Bars)
Butt Wipes
Paper Towels

That's it. So list in hand I ventured over to the Target.

What I bought (after 2 hours of wandering aimlessly around):
Hair Dye
Toilet Paper
Butt Wipes
Frizz Ease Spray
Frizz Ease Gel Spray
Soap Bars
Hand Soap in a 3 pack
4 things of Deodorant
Bleach Spray (in all fairness my tub is gross)
2 plastic Monkey plates
4 pairs of underpants
2 bras
3 tee shirts
Sunblock (10 because I'm Irish and think Red = Tan)
Shaving Cream
Make up
Cold Medicine (no I'm not sick again)
Really soft wash cloths
toothpaste
3 oz cups


Yeah, so $142 later I realize that I need adult supervision in the Target. In the past, Mr. Pants and I would be shopping and I would proclaim "I need that!" (imagine me pointing happily at Monkey plates). Mr. Pants would say "No, you don't". I would spend the next couple of aisles babbling on and on about how I needed said monkey plates - "I could use them for dessert plates or for Bean to have wet food on" and he would shoot each idea down patiently and calmly. Then he would distract me with the candy area where I would happily peruse while he finished shopping. Without that other person? I buy a bunch of crap and spend 30 minutes in the candy section buying nothing.

Then I come home and drink myself silly on a Wednesday night.

Yeah, living on my own is going to end up a giant FAIL.

2nd Food Coma of the Day.

My weekend has been spectacular. I know! I can't believe it either. I went out with the kids from work on Friday night for Drew's Birthday. We drank and talked and laughed. I had an amazing grilled cheese on Saturday morning. I hung out with my family yesterday and today had breakfast and watched a movie with Monkey, then Violet and I went to the melting pot. Tomorrow it's the Art Museum & BBQ. Can life get any better?

Plus I found Strawberried Peanut Butter M&Ms. Yes. I found them. Yes. They are disgusting. The strawberry flavor is entirely too fake. They're no where near as good as the mint crisp ones from Indiana Jones last year. I guess Transformers got the awful flavor tie in. Of course, that Indiana Jones was horrendous.

My depression has waned - as was expected - a bunch of beers, some shots, an angry bloody mary and perhaps more beers definitely reset my mood. It is much improved. I am going to challenge myself to stay positive at work til at least Wednesday. Think I can?

You, my friend, are a doubting internet user.

Yet I continue to function

My cat has glitter on her nose. This is making me want to gather all the weird things I have in my house into a pile. I'm 35. Do I really need stripper shoes with cherries on them? Or glitter nail polish, eyeshadow and lip gloss? What the fuck is wrong with me?

Everyone at work has been very down, even the cellar dweller said to me today that if he could find another job he would leave. He's a dude I never expected to ever express a desire to leave there. I'm sending out resumes, but I am not getting many responses. It makes me frustrated. I always kind of felt like the time I spent at Staples carried my weak ass resume. Now I have this other job that doesn't do much for me in fulling out the resume or carry the superb name recognition Staples did. Plus my resume sucks donkey dick. I do a lot at my current job, but I simply can not express exactly what I do there. I never wanted to resort to having to look to retail management as a career, I have successfully avoided it throughout my life and now I'm thinking that I should be applying for retail management jobs. Part of it is my desperation to get out of my current job. I don't know what to do. I'll figure it out, but it is causing a lot of angst in my life right now.

So tonight I am supposed to go to my friend's house and watch The Wrestler (yes, yes, I realize I've made this threat before), but I am already in my nighty and would rather cuddle up here on the couch and watch tv. I am so unmotivated as of late. I came home today and fell asleep for 2 hours. Took a shower and fell back to sleep for a bit. I could seriously go immediately back to sleep now and wake up tomorrow.

Okay I need to get to Sephora before they close (so not going to happen).

Come on over and toss back a few.

My depression, she lingers on. Although today had two incredible high points. I snuck out to lunch in a restaurant today with Monkey. The break was most welcome, even if we did spend the entire time talking about work. Then Freddy plopped himself in my office for over 30 minutes and discussed his sex life in explicit detail. I know more about that dude's sex life than I know about my own. I work at a job where people feel very comfortable telling me stuff. And in some cases it has been awesome - there are 2 people that I feel like I will be friends with long after my work there is done - but some folks just talk because they like to talk. Freddy likes to talk. I know how he eats his wife's pussy, I know how many times his girlfriend cums, I know how many times he can get it up in a night. Seriously. The only person I am comfortable having those types of conversations with is the man in my life, not the fat chick in the front office. But whatever, because it totally cheered me up.

Last night I cried and cried and cried. To the point where my eyes were a swollen mess. Then I opened Pet Semetary and covered myself in the simply written words of Stephen King. Trust me, I am no literary snob, but I am mildly embarrassed at times of my love of Stephen King. When I'm sad or upset, I turn to The Stand, Pet Semetary, Cujo or another King book. Frannie and Stu, Donna and Vic, Louis and Rachel, they're like old friends to me. Yeah, I know their tale (almost by heart) but it makes me feel comforted. Today wasn't much better, but I have a big night planned of eating and watching movies. So hopefully tomorrow will be better.

My vagina still hates me - but now I get to stick yogurt in it. I'm like some granola eating hippie chick going for the natural cure.

I am looking forward to the long weekend. Violet and I have some plans, Mr. Pants and I have some plans, Bear and I have some plans, and I am going to get drunkity drunk drunk at least 1 night. Sometimes the boozing helps reset my depression back to normal level. Of course sometimes it doesn't work and I sink even lower. I guess we'll see.

Warning - full of lady business

My vagina hates me. It is in some kind of revolt against me. For years we've lived in harmony, my vag and I, but lately it's like one of us has to go. Since January I've had 4 fucking UTIs which is fine. I mean, not fine, but I have always had an issue with UTIs, so I'm not really surprised. My doctor has started charging me for the urinalysis because it's become a monthly thing and evidently Blue Cross and Blue Shield only covers 2 or some crazy shit. There has been talk of 60 days on antibiotics, or a low dose taken whenever I have sex. Both seem like too much. I'm afraid I am going to get sick and have some tolerance to antibiotics so I'll die of gangrene or something. I've been taking cranberry supplements - 6 a day. It's not helping. So back on the antibiotics on Friday. Which have given me a yeast infection. WTF?? Why do my lady parts hate me?

Other than my angry lady parts, things have been okay. I'm mildly depressed. Nothing really bad, but I kind of want to be alone.

Today = Awesome.

I do realize that saying the day is awesome at 10:30 AM is a bit of a strong statement, but I have a good feeling about today.

I woke up early this morning. I seem to have lost my ability to sleep in. I don't miss it as much as I thought I would. I read for awhile, then got up and brewed a pot of coffee. I had a muffin, a 1/2 of grapefruit, and some coffee as I perused my favorite Sunday morning sites.

Thrill as I recount what I ate for dinner last night.

On Friday night the High School Girls and I thought we'd do dinner and a movie. So, Jess & Liz & Violet and I made plans to meet at Houlihan's at 6. Then I decided I wanted to go to Happy Hour. A flurry of texts were sent that made me question if I really did stop my burgeoning alcohol problem in my friends' minds.

Lizzie: "If you go to HH you won't show up at all."
Violet: "No. Not a good idea. You'll have to drive."
Jess: "Bullshit! It'll be 9:30 and we all be at the fucking bar in some shitty chain restaurant waiting and then you'll send a text that says 'sorry bitches! too drunk! Jameson's = YUM'".

So I bailed on Happy Hour. Which was fine, because I really spend too much time with those kids from work and Jameson's does in fact equal YUM and then I would have been all drunk texting and totally wouldn't have made it out.

Instead I rushed home for to see if my UPS package had arrived (it had). Maybe it is living alone, but man, do I get thrilled when I get mail. My friend from work (who needs a nick name for here. It has been frustrating me. I suck at the whole nicknamey thing to begin with and typically use whatever name it is that they use as their blog / myspace / messageboard handle. So for right now I'll go with Monkey. Which I have been trying to make work in real life too. It doesn't. I am fully aware of that. Anyway). Monkey came over for a minute to talk about the end of the shitty week. Which made me totally late for the girls. And when I got there? The fucking restaurant was closed! It closed on 5/12. Somehow I took the collective blame for not knowing this. I tried desperately to convince the ladies that Korean BBQ was the way to go. They disagreed and we drove fucking 30 minutes out of our way to eat at a different Houlihan's. Then we squeezed back to my place to watch 27 Dresses with the plan that is was going to be mockable. It wasn't. It was atrocious. Not "funny bad" or "I can't believe this is this awful" but "Really? Was this script only written with a cliche generator?" so after much discussion of when the hell Ed Burns got so fat we turned it off and watched SNL with Justin Timberlake as the host.

Which made us feel like 4 old ladies who spouted off such stupid lines as "you know, this kid is crazy talented" and "He can sing, he can dance, he has comedic timing, and isn't afraid to mock himself- he's gonna go far!" and "I wouldn't kick him out of bed." If this were 1999 or whenever he brought Sexy Back, I could see this conversation happening, but I really felt like we were a bunch of old ladies babbling away- completely out of touch.

Yesterday I did a lot of errandy things and spent a ton of money I don't have. I must get better at curbing my spending. I must! Then I vegged out on the couch for awhile and caught up on the DVR.

Rescue Me is amazing this season.
30 Rock Finale was hysterical - Cyndi Lauper is one of the drunk ones!
The Office - Motherfuckme - I love Jim and Pam still. I don't care what anyone says.
Big Bang Theory - really? I love that show, but that was one of the weakest eps of the season.

I can't wait for tomorrow's How I Met Your Mother finale. I hear it is going to be awesome.

Monkey came over with plans to watch The Wrestler, but I've only had the netflix for two weeks, and I really prefer to keep them as long as possible. I have been carrying that movie around for the last week hoping to catch some time to watch it. We just keep looking at the run time and deciding to try it later. So hopefully this week. We've been pulling through the big Oscar films and some crazy little independents lately. I love having a friend so willing to watch the crazy stuff I like. I have like a million documentaries coming up on my queue so we'll see if he really likes watching what I do when he's stuck watching "Jesus Camp" or "Spellbound".

Okay, I am going to make some crazy good Bakerella treats today. Oreo Truffels and Cupcake pops. So I must get dress, go to the craft store and then plop down and bake the day away.

I'm Lost with Lost

Seriously? This show is just fucking with me now, right?
I almost regret the last 5 years - I can barely muster enough interest in these characters anymore - I just want resolution.

I am still fighting the remnants of this motherfucking cold. I almost feel like the cough will never go away. It probably would if I stopped smoking - but that's not going to happen. Not with how stressed I am.

I can't even muster 10 minutes tonight. I'm going to bed. Sorry internet - maybe tomorrow there will be rambling, incoherent, writings from me. Tonight? There is sleep only.

Easy like Sunday Morning - or a Slutty Drunk Girl.

Check me out - 9 AM on a Sunday and I'm up and typing away! Yay me!

I spent a whole bunch of time yesterday with my folks. It was really nice. My dad is awesome. He is the one person in my life who has constantly been supportive of me. So much of who I am, the person that I grew up to be came from that man. I know it's mother's day and I should probably be thinking about my mom and how sad her current state is, but in all honestly, she did a pretty crappy job of raising me. She consistently made me feel bad about who I was, what I was doing and was the primary reason that I had to get away and ran straight from home into the crappiest relationship ever. I left one physically and emotionally abusive person for another. But that doesn't matter, because I am totally better now - see - all fixed!

Wow. This is some heavy shit for 9:05 AM.

Last night I watched Wendy & Lucy. I wish I could describe how the movie made me feel with some type of accuracy. It was beautifully shot and Michelle Williams was lovely as always - but the sadness in this movie was amazingly large. And not the sobbing type of sadness of Steel Magnolias, but the bone cutting sadness that stays with you for days afterward. Tonight I may watch The Wrestler and then only happy movies on the Netflix queue for a while.

Okay. It's sunny and early and I found a coffee shop that has S'more flavored Lattes. And I'm making cupcakes today. And chex mix.

I am the Slayer

I have a list that is LONG of things I need to accomplish today. I actually said this morning I was going to "Slay that motherfucking list". Yeah. How's that going? Well I'm on the couch in the clothes I wore last night, typing on my laptop - so slaying? Not my calling.

Of course I only have 9 more minutes to sit here.

Yesterday, work sucked a bag of dicks. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed and found myself grumpy as hell. The guy I share an office with told me he was going to stab me in the neck with a key - so my jolly mood was appreciated by all. It was one of those days that all the hidden crap, the stuff that people don't want you to see, totally floated to the top. I spent a lot of my day being really pissed about shit that I had no control over. But then 5 o'clock rolled around and the day got a whole lot better.

I went to happy hour with some coworkers but split early after no shots, 2 beers and a whole lot of laughs- then went over my friend's house to watch Doubt. I had seen it before, but watching it again gave me a better appreciation for it.

Violet and I are not getting along particularly well right now. It is frustrating the fuck out of me and I'm not really sure how to fix it. She is most displeased with the way I am living my life, and without getting into the details, she has no business being pissed. I am really good. And things are really good. This girl has been my friend through the drugs, the abusive boyfriends -all of the lifetime movie plots that my life has encompassed, yet this - my separation from my husband- is the 1 thing she decides she needs to get all judgmental about. It sucks. We've been friends for 20 years and I feel like we aren't going to be friends much longer. I'm going to have to talk to her about it and see if we can't find some middle ground and resolve this. Before it's too late.

Okay, I'm off to slay and make my facebook status a reality.

Thunder Road? Without the Lightning, Please.

Last night I slept the worst I've slept in a really long time. It was almost painful. I fell asleep easily enough, almost immediately, in fact, but then woke up with that scary "where the fuck am I" feeling. After my panic subsided, I realized I forgot to take my cold medicine and it seemed like too much of a hassle to disconnect myself from the bed, find some water and a glass (damn alka seltzer tablets) take the medicine and get back in bed. Plus I didn't know what time it was, so if it was longer than 6 hours before I had to wake up, I would totally be fucked and stuck in that medicine haze all day. So I laid there reciting lines from Pulp Fiction for awhile. Just as I started to fall back to sleep, it started to pour. The rain was really coming down and the thunder was rumbling in the distance. It seemed cozy at first. I was all snug in bed, a little neurotic, but no worse than usual, no panic attack looming or anything - Until the lightning started.

I probably should have prefaced this tale with the fact that I wasn't at my house. I spent the night at my friend's new home (which is lovely by the way). It was raining pretty hard all night, so I decided to just spend the night there, rather than make the long trip home (on highways!).

So, there I was, laying in a strange bed watching the lightning throw all these crazy shadows on the wall. The thunder was now booming and the lightning was flashing a whole bunch. I huddled myself into a tiny ball and turned away from the windows, repeating somewhat quietly "I am not a giant chicken". I resisted the urge that I normally have to lay on the floor away from the windows with a blanket over my head. Of course I totally couldn't fall back to sleep after because my heart was racing and I was all crazy headed. Hence the lack of sleep. Although I did crash fairly hard after work today. So, all better!

So that's my ten minute tale - I'm afraid of thunder and potentially the worst overnight guest you can have. At least I didn't hide in the tub this time. Alright I'm off to watch The Office and put my new monkey sheets on my bed.

Life's dollar Menu

So I have been inspired to write here daily. 10 minutes a day. That's it. Whatever I can pour out here in 10 minutes gets posted. I want to write more, and a friend told me that's the best way to do it. So be prepared for some awful crap.

I have successfully kicked the Swine Flu without a hoof or curly tail appearing. I slept 24 hours between Monday and Tuesday. It was not as lovely as it would seem. Unfortunately my illness sent me spiraling into a huge depression. There is something about lying on the bathroom floor, under a blanket and every so often lifting your head to vomit copious amounts of soup into the toilet in your tiny rental condo that makes you realize "I could die here and no one would no until tomorrow or the next day". I'd like to think my friend who has a key would totally miss me if he didn't hear from me by Noon or so, but I don't know. I'm a lonely girl. My guess is that someone would notice the pile of paperwork on my desk by Friday and sent someone over to check on me. So that's how my death will be discovered. One of the idiots I work with will wonder why their jobs haven't been closed and perhaps one of them will take a ride over to see if I'm alive.

My cold also made me terribly homesick. I missed my bed. My pillows. My cats. Having a person who would make me a milkshake. And soup. And who would offer me the elixir if I was pukey. So I cried my eyes out for a good portion of last night and probably made someone a little uncomfortable. Sorry about that. And thanks for listening and not being all judgy.

And no, I only took 1 fish mox before I realized I was trying to treat myself with FISH AMOXICILLAN. WHAT THE FUCK? HOW FAR WILL I GO FOR A JOKE?

The answer is unfortunately pretty fucking far.

10 minutes NOW. I'm off to get my monkey sheets out of the dryer and finish my friendship bread.

Friendship bread is the new chain letter.

My Life Revised

I'm not really sure if my life is any different then it was a year ago. It's Wednesday night, and I am perched on the couch, laptop balanced on my knees, arguing whether a human can take fish antibiotics with El Bat (They totally can) while I wait for Lost to come on. Seems like any other night in my life.

Except it's completely different. I live alone now. Without much fan fare I've moved into the tiniest rented condo in the world. I have 600 square feet of Wishy only space (well, Bean is here with me, but she's very tiny). Dishes in the sink? They're mine! Underpants on the floor? Also mine! Toothpaste ring in the sink? I did that! Kitchen cabinet full of candy? Because that's a food group to me.

I've never lived alone. I lived with my folks, I lived with a boy, I lived with Shell & Lace, I lived with Mr. Pants. I find living along to be exhilarating. I love that I have this space that is entirely mine. That I can come home from work, strip off my clothes and climb into bed with a book. I can fill the DVR with shows I like and catch them whenever it's convenient for me. Dinner can be popcorn or Homemade pasta. It is really lovely.

The first 4 months on 2009 have been amazing. I've learned a whole lot about me. The person that I am and what is important to me. I feel stronger and happier than I have in a long time.

Of course this may all change in 2 weeks when I am dead of a fish antibiotic overdose.

And really, my new home doesn't have dirty dishes piled up, underpants strewn about and me in some candy coma. I use the dishwasher almost daily!