This Is Not My Life

Moving On

2009-03-19T10:04:00.000-07:00

I'm moving on. And I'm not afraid. And I'm not sad. And I'm not hurting.

And that's ok.

I Just Know

2009-03-17T08:35:00.000-07:00

Some things need no justification, no verification, no explanation. There are things in life that just are. Today....right now...I just know. I just know that I've made all the right decisions. I just know I'm going the right direction. I just know this is where I'm supposed to be right now.....I just know.

Still Happier

2009-03-11T12:58:00.001-07:00

Every day is a little better than the one before.

I refuse to let go of my willpower this time around. If I stay strong, and every day keeps getting better...I'll be on top of the world before you know it.

P.S.

2009-02-27T09:59:00.001-08:00

No...the circular reference that is my life is not lost on me. (For those that wondered.)

Happier Still

2009-02-27T09:47:00.000-08:00

It's crazy how you don't realize how much you've missed something or how much you've needed something until you have it again. It makes you wish you'd never waited so long to find it again. Or....maybe it only means so much now because you waited so long. Or because you're more able to appreciate it. Or because you're mature enough to understand its significance.

I'm so happy to have it again.

Exhaling.....

2009-02-23T11:03:00.000-08:00

I feel good. Reallyreallygood, surprisingly. I feel like I can breathe. I feel like I can think. I feel my sanity seeping back in. I feel like I can live according to my own imagination and not as a prisoner of someone else's. And I'm sleeping. Through the night. Comfortably. That, my friends, is a true barometer of my life......

This Weekend

2009-02-13T13:27:00.000-08:00

I'm going shopping. It makes me feel better. Emotionally.

Insomnia & Crisis

2009-02-06T18:13:00.000-08:00

I can't flippin' sleep! I'm sooooo tired and I can't sleep. No OTC sleep aid, no prescription narcotic, no amount of alcohol can save me. You know how I know? I've tried all of them. Overandoverandoveragain. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, I will finally fall asleep only to awake exactly 4 and 1/2 hours later. I'm so tired that I can't recall all that REM cycle research I've read about, but I'm fairly certain I'm not sleeping the required number of hours to reach the required stage of sleep to maintain the required degree of sanity required by society.
That said, I've had all kinds of non-REM active brain time to ponder issues and riddles and conundrums of all sorts. You can imagine (considering my level of genius) that I have arrived at some very provocative and thoughtful conclusions about life and existence. For example, all those people who whine about how there just aren't enough hours in a day.....they mean there aren't enough hours in a day to sleep 8 fucking hours and do all the other meaningless bullshit they have scheduled to make themselves feel more productive in life. I know this because I have essentially gained 4 hours a day and guess what productive activities I've filled those hours with....go ahead...just guess.....WISHING I WAS SLEEPING 4 MORE HOURS! Nothing gets done. Nothing gets solved. I don't gain a bit of knowledge....unless you count the fact that I now know that a chamois cloth can soak 1.5 liters of liquid out of carpet in less than 2 minutes AND how to buy a house in foreclosure for $300. Some other conclusions and observations born of my insomnia:
1. The newspaper deliveryperson is incredibly punctual.
2. An entire family snoring in usinson sounds like one person snoring very loudly.
3. Infomercials prey on the weakness of those less rested. If I were a person of lesser will, I would own 3 different types of cookers, a vegetable chopper, a miracle chamois, 4 uncirculated coin sets, and a 3 month supply of sex-enhancement supplements.
4. Spongebob Squarepants can be viewed at any given time on at least one television channel regardless of the hour.

Clearly very valuable information. I know there are 20 or 30 more but I can't remember them BECAUSE I'M SO FUCKING TIRED!!!!

I'm not sure if the lack of sleep is caused by or is creating the newest phase of this life that isn't mine.

I'm having a seven-years-short-of-half-the-projected-life-span-of-the-average-American-woman crisis. I want to be thinner. I want to be tan. I want to have an affair. I want to have great tits, even if I have to buy them. I want barely-of-age boys to want me. I want a fast car. I want great sex all the time. And I obsess about all of these things all the time. Or at least regularly from 1 to 4 am each day.

Let's all hope I survive.

Ugh

2009-01-27T12:59:00.000-08:00

Ice...as far as one can see and still falling steadily. Surely these are the endtimes.

The Longest Post EVER!

2009-01-26T21:04:00.000-08:00

I find that I want to blog when I'm restless or anxious or stressed. Those days, those months, those years that are quiet and without excessive drama don't seem to warrant public disclosure of intimate thoughts and ideas. It's the moments of despair or loneliness or exasperation that drive me to publicly expound on the circumstances of my uneasiness. Why is that? I'm not so much asking you, as I'm asking myself. And when I answer myself I feel sure it is because if it is documented and spelled out definitively, it is justified....the uneasy feeling. And the me that answers inside my mind is quick to add that it must also help me to quiet whatever has triggered the disquiet. Psychologically speaking, I'm sure that's true.

This day of this month of this year, it is the act of parenting that pierces the complacency. Maybe not so much the act as the trial; and actually not so much the trial as the responsibility to do it adequately. A decade and a half ago, when I was not an adult but not a child either, I was not so naive as to believe I was capable of effectively navigating the journey on which I'd embarked. I was smart. I'd read the statistics that this society uses to resign us to a category that fits nicely on a graph. I knew that rearing a child without the benefit of money and wisdom and patience would be difficult at best. I was mostly right. With intelligence and sheer determination, I was able to conquer all of those. Understanding, of course, that money and wisdom and patience are infinitely developing elements if you evolve in ways that childhood parables and Sunday school teachers lead you to believe you should. Upon reflection I realize I overlooked a different, but important, element. Maybe I considered it and shrugged it off. Maybe it never occurred to me. In either case, I under(never)estimated the dynamics of psychology; that psychology that invents guilt whether appropriate or not....the psychology that places the need for love and validation above common sense. So I find myself, 16 years and some months later, aware of, but still bound by that miscalculated component of parenting.

When I married all those years ago, I suppose it was because it was expected. It was possibly even necessary. Mostly though, it was designed to fail. All the statistics and graphs and day-time talk shows predicted it. After all, as a quasi-adult I couldn't fathom the complexity of marital union or love or postpartum depression. As a teenager though, invincible and willful, I was compelled to invent an exception to rule. Not to say that I ever had faith in my endeavor. If I did, I can't recall now. Even for all the inevitability of matrimonial demise, children were born-actual pieces of me-not improperly described as extensions of my soul; apart but not separate. In the end, and now as I see it in history, that psychology factor that I had failed to grasp manifested in the creation of those extensions not separate from me. It took root and persisted into the very core of my essence; unbeknown and undetectable to me.

When the marriage finally failed, or rather was officially acknowledged as a failure, it was as difficult and dreadful as one might expect. Confirmed rejection never comes without hard feeling, no matter how inevitable. There was the oft-encountered, but tired, battle for parental titles that reduce your family to primary and joint participants. There was extensive placing of blame. There were court dates upon court dates. There were confrontations and allegations and general indictments of character. Aside from all of that tribulation though, there was that psychology....its roots invading my days, my thoughts, and my relationships with my children.

They were young....I doubt the second of the two even has recollections of her own that weren't born of the re-telling of this event or that. The older, though....she remembers. An innocent victim, she recalls the arguments and name-calling and various broken adornments. She recollects the cursing and the temporary break-ups. She can recall things that I would readily exchange all my days to erase. It isn't appropriate for parents to infect the lives of their children in those ways. I knew then and I know now. But, I participated still; and for that I am eternally guilty.

In the months and couple of years immediately following the dissolution of that destined-to-fail marriage, I was hyper-focused on the damage already done. I was powerless to erase it so, alternatively I established a pattern of denial and leniency to relieve my own guilt; to overwrite and override my egregious parental irresponsibility. I disregarded her insolence, that innocent casualty of my inadequacy , postulating that it was part of a necessary and expected process. I ignored her disdain for my boyfriend-now-husband and denied him the authority to discipline or even address her disrespect. I allowed her the liberty to argue against my preference and opinion on matters of all sort. In my mind, I was allowing space...encouraging independence...diminishing my guilt for robbing her of the childhood that was her entitlement. I believed I was doing all the right things in the right order that culminate in that graduation/wedding/firstborn event wherein she would thank me for my patience & insight and she would sincerely apologize for all the times my heart was broken. I thought if I assisted her in establishing her own boundaries, rather than create them for her, she would learn some lesson that children are supposed to learn for later use as a productive member of society. I didn't succeed.
A couple of years turned into years and years. Insolence became blatant defiance. Disdain was replaced by vehement hostility. Then somewhere, somehow I lost the upper hand. And over time, I became resigned to the idea that I was powerless to stop what had developed. I consoled myself with the knowledge that I could never reverse it, even if I did find a way to stop it. I often appeased her for the sake of tranquility. I overlooked the bad things, in part because I have been relieved that I've not had to suffer the angst commonly associated with a young woman's moral fortitude and public reputation. Teachers and parents of her friends rave about her manners and attitude and helpful nature. I believe with 99% certainty that she doesn't drink, do drugs, or have sex. So I elected to overlook much of her bad behavior as if my disregard was some sort of barter for her moral virtuosity. And so it has been: we've danced this precarious psychological waltz, she and I, month after month...year after year; a lifetime it seems.

Eventually, and maybe too late, I realized the power (I thought was mine) had shifted. Her will to win was only bolstered by my feelings of guilt. SHE was telling ME how I was supposed to parent and I was compliant because I believed her when she said I was not being a good mother. Inside my head, she would never have cause to verbalize it if she didn't believe it. AND if she believed it, I must have been failing miserably at something. So when I come home and the dishes haven't been done as I've directed that morning....I accept some rambling excuse about being so sore from soccer practice and hand her $20 to go to a movie if she'll just go ahead and get it done now. When I ask her to clean her room day after day and it's not done on Friday afternoon, I believe her when she says she'll work on it all day tomorrow if she can just go spend the night with her friend tonight. When she announced to me (and most of the town) that I shouldn't drink because I would go to hell otherwise, I stopped drinking altogether. Understand that I was no raging alcoholic. I wasn't neglecting or abusing my family. I wasn't breaking any laws. It may be arguable that, for a short period of time, I drank more often than some find acceptable...but never so much or often that it interfered with my job or needs of my family or daily functions of life. Still...I quit. And once I acquiesced in that regard, she began to insist that I had a parental obligation to attend HER church. Again, as a family this time, we complied in hope of meeting her obvious emotional needs so as to find a semblance of peace for all of us. And all the while, she continues to disregard the majority of my requests and directions. She verbally berates everyone in our home. She physically confronts my husband. She persecutes anyone whose opinion is different than hers. Most of the time, she does it all in the name of concern for salvation of those she judges. One might think that her behavior directly contradicts the causes for which she claims to stand....that idea is lost on her.

An unfortunate consequence resulting from this situation: My second daughter, 3 years younger, becomes a little more empowered, every single day, to behave the same way. She offers up the same disrespect with the same attitude using the same words.

There is no doubt that I have not been a perfect mother. There have been times in this 16 years that I may not have even been a good mother. What I have been is the best mother I know how to be in any given circumstance, good or bad. I'm not so full of myself as to pretend I know how to mother 16 and 13 year old daughters...this is my first go round and there have been mistakes aplenty.

So....now I've arrived at the reason for the unsettled feeling that prompted me to post: No more. This behavior is unacceptable and it stops here and now.

I am the parent and they are the children. It doesn't work the way they would like to orchestrate it. Like me, and my parents before me, and generations and generations...we do not have a right or reasonable expectation to tell our parents how to parent us. If our needs are being met and, furthermore, our desires fulfilled and we're not being abused....we do not have the right to judge our parents as inadequate. As children, the concession is in our inability to meet our own needs and desires. Until that point, general respect for those who provide those things is necessary and expected. There comes a time in all of our lives that we look back and assess the capacity of our parents and their ability to meet our needs in the years of our minority. And inevitably, there will be something that we deem unacceptable and inadequate and we will profess to never be party to those same methods or words or ideas. We all want to be better than our parents. It's surely part of our inherent desire to improve the human race.

There was a dramatic situation blown to ridiculous proportions here in my home a few days ago. The details are unimportant because the generality is the same as it has been over and over again. It began with my children chastising me, via cellular device, for not behaving in a way they deemed acceptable at that moment. When I returned home just over an hour later, I naturally addressed the issue. What ensued was a barrage of personal insults, judgments, and outrageous disrespect directed at me, their mother. It ultimately culminated in something akin to a circus stunt gone awry.
I decided they were moving the 4 blocks across town to live with their father. I don't love them any less. I'm not going to cease being their mother. I'm heartbroken and tearful. I don't know what else to do.

I hope the lesson won't be lost.

Logworthy Trouble

2008-07-08T18:59:00.000-07:00

Another summer in this life that is not mine. (Insert reflective tune) Everyone knows it's my favorite time of year. I spend countless hours trying to find trouble in which I'll never take part. In my real life, I bet I'm a badass. I bet I am the trouble. In my real life, there's no 9 to 5. In my real life, there's no budget. There's no bedtime; no alarm clock. In the life that is not mine...the alarm clock screams that my bedtime is too late. My budget screams that I can barely afford to drive my opposite-of-green SUV to my 9-to-5 existence. There's no real trouble. My husband hates me. My kids hate my budget. My budget hates my affection for pinot grigio. My affection for pinot grigio hates my alarm. None of that is too awfully troubling, though. It's like white-noise trouble. You know...the kind of trouble that blends in with a life that doesn't belong to you. What do you think it is? What about this sticky, wet 95 degree weather makes me want to be crazy? Is it because I'm crazy?

How Do You Know...

2008-03-18T20:26:00.000-07:00

When you're a grownup?

I ask my Daddy all the time if he feels like a grownup yet. He says he doesn't, but I'm fairly positive that's only for my benefit. How could he not feel grown? Four girls, nine and 1/4 grandchildren, two step-children, six step grandchildren, wife, mortgage, car payments! If he doesn't feel grownup, where does that leave me? I mean, he has a hot tub, for heaven's sake. And really good landscaping. And white carpet. How can you have white carpet and not feel confident that you have come of age?? Hell, how can you have all your Christmas lights down and stored in little labeled bins by January 15th without being absolutely positive? But still he tells me in that fatherly tone that my feelings are normal and I'm not going to die at the hands of 15-year-old girl/boy drama, nor am I going to be rendered catatonic by the shock of my five-year-old's obsession with the word "penis" for the pure entertainment of her tween and teen sisters.

Seriously though, I still can't figure out how to keep the little rat-we-call-a-pomeranian-stains and Moon Sand out of my beige carpet without breaking my back with the steam cleaner once a month. Hell, I'm still trying to figure out why I don't feel like a grownup when it's breaking my back to use the steam cleaner once a month. Shouldn't there be a correlation there? Aching bones:being a grown up as Number of Years Alive:all knowing enlightenment, right? It's a simple mathematical(?) concept. Wait, maybe that's Aching bones=being a grown up in mathematical terms. I can't even keep my grammatical rules vs. mathematical rules straight. See...clearly the memory loss in itself should indicate the "grown up" marker, right? I really thought that a good salary, nice house, and the astronomical payments that come with 2 environmentally unfriendly SUV's would do it for sure. So, why do I find myself saying, "Ciera, it's not been that long since I was fifteen," and she laughs hysterically. Maybe she's just too young to comprehend my grown up logic. That's surely the answer.

So, I ask you-my two readers-how do you know when you're a grownup? Is there a graduation ceremony? Does it involve toasts with alcoholic drinks and motivational speaking? Will I always listen to Linkn Park's "Numb" at 32 on the volume dial while playing air guitar on the steering wheel, singing in perfect harmony with my 4, 12, and 15 year old in the backseat; wondering if they are thinking that they want to be more like themselves and less like me? Are you grownup? If so, how do you know?

Maybe if we had some ritual that involved walking on hot coals and piercing body parts with bamboo, I would know. Maybe if we could slaughter goats in my honor and dance around a fire in various hallucinogenic states, I would know. Maybe if I didn't so closely relate to the emotions of my girls as though I was living them yesterday, I would know. But today....I don't know how to become a grownup.

When is a Bonus Not Really a Bonus?

2008-03-15T16:57:00.000-07:00

When the effing government takes 53% of it!

I know, I know. If I wouldn't have had it othewise, it should be considered a bonus no matter the amount or lack thereof. It just frustrates the hell out of me that my company clearly thinks I have worked hard enough to deserve a new covered deck on the back of my home, but Uncle Sam believes my hard work would better serve to purchase 2 hammers and a commode or a dummy bomb to drop on some unsuspecting apartment dweller. I hope he's constipated the whole summer that I'm on my cracked back patio, sipping frozen drinks tinged with the flavor of my UV protectant.

Now That Hell Has Frozen Over

2007-12-13T10:16:00.000-08:00

Wow. I never really knew that a harmless liquid such as H2O, when changed to a solid, could actually cause insanity in otherwise sane people. However, I have witnessed such results over the past 6 days and it is quite real.
We have had an ice storm of epic proportions here in the Bible Belt. It's been an interesting week. I have no trees left. I have electricity now, which is more than I can say for 90% of the people I am in contact with on a regular basis.
You know what I'm most excited about though is the monkeys that will be flying out of people's asses and the pigs with wings. Oh..and don't forget all of the things that I will finally get to do now that hell has clearly frozen over. All of those in my life that have sworn that they are living in hell.....I'm calling you out. I suspect that I will get to see some really interesting events. Some of you will have to have more children. Some of you will have to have sex with people that repulse you. Some of you will have to eat liver and onions. I'm going to start making a list of all of those things I can remember that people were going to do when hell froze over. Be prepared when I come knocking on your door....

Giving Thanks

2007-11-21T12:22:00.000-08:00

I wanted to take a moment to be all sappy and thankful. Don't worry, I'll be right back to being a bitch before I can click "Publish Post."

I am thankful for:

My children
My job
My friends
My amazing intelligence :)
My house
My car

Not in that order, necessarily. It's been a tough couple of years, but I'm thankful that I came out on top.

I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday and if you're reading this.....I'm thankful that you're interested. Now-let the festivites begin!

Ciera Vivian Marie

2007-11-06T07:06:00.000-08:00

Today my firstborn turns 15. That child that I was too young to realize I was too young to raise......

And now, here we are. She gets to go on dates. That was the rule. She could start dating when she was 15. Of course, I never expected her to actually get to her 15th birthday. I mean....really. I had to sit on the child to make her sit in 5 minutes of time out. Then I realized spanking her butt was much less effort but still rendered the same result. That would be.....nothing. She didn't give a damn either way. Then there was the time she thought she might fight her Daddy. We can't forget the whole "screw you" incident that I was sure was the end-all. But after all of it, she's alive. And 15. And has DD breasts.

I hope we make it to 16.

Hmmmmmm.....

2007-11-05T11:44:00.000-08:00

Life........

I love being an empowered woman. I love being the mother of crazy, loud, beautiful, independent daughters. I love being sexy and important and loved. I love being intelligent. I love.

I'm amazed that it took thirtysomething years for me to figure out the little bit that I have finally figured out.

Movin' On Up

2007-10-22T10:31:00.000-07:00

You know what I've discovered? This wasn't my life. When I look back over posts from ages ago....I know now it really wasn't. I just had to take the time to take charge and take over and make my life my own. I've amazed myself. I hope I've amazed others. I finally feel like I've come out on top and I earned it. This life that I have now....it's mine. It's what I knew I was capable of accomplishing. It's what I knew I deserved. I love my life.

And From Out of the Darkness

2007-08-24T13:07:00.000-07:00

Want to know what I've been working on for the past year or so?

She started pre-K! And....

She started Middle School! And....

She started High School!

Oh...and my job.

I Want

2006-07-28T09:05:00.000-07:00

To be where I'm going. I just want to arrive there. I'm tired of the journey. I want papers signed, groceries in the kitchen, kids in and out, phones ringing, and my friends on the patio drinking beer while those awful bugs chirp loud enough to make us hotter than we really are.

Life and all that comes after

2006-01-27T08:13:00.000-08:00

Well, well...where to start? I'm not sure that I want to try to keep up with a blog right now, so I'm not sure that I should even write this post. What the hell, though? Right? I'm slowly, but surely, reclaiming my life and starting to feel much more like this IS my life. Amazing. It only took a decade or so. I forgot how things are in the real world. So, my post today is a list of the things that I forgot about that really make me happy.

1. Fridays are much better when Monday thru Thursday suck ass.

2. It's nice to talk to people that don't want you to cook anything for them or wipe their butt.

3. It is possible to have a relationship and know that it's ok to demand a little respect.

4. Fat and depression are not inevitable evils of life.

5. Intelligence is useful for much more than 4th grade math homework or showing your husband how to work on a truck.

6. Sexuality is useful for much more than keeping someone else happy.

7. Thirty two is the new twenty two.

8. Five hours of sleep seems like alot more when you have a good reason to get out of bed.

9. No matter how bad heels hurt your feet, you still feel really good when you wear them.

10. Even if your life is not what you may have imagined it to be a long time ago.....it's ok to claim it as your own.

More Pics from the Weekend

2005-10-18T07:37:00.000-07:00

I know you guys will all be incredibly sick of these and stop coming back to check my blog pretty soon, but I keep finding pics that I like better than the others.

Damn..I Needed That

2005-10-17T17:21:00.000-07:00

I had the best damn time I've had in a long time this weekend! No phones, no televisions, no computers; just lots of beer, good company, a full moon, and adrenaline aplenty. If you'll note the pictures below, you'll notice that I got stupid enough to walk backwards off a 50 foot rock. It was incredible! I can't wait to do it again. As a matter of fact...I expect to do the 110 foot drop within a couple of weeks. (Theoretically, of course....no guarantees.) I think I might be up for it. This crazy ass had no problem, and I PROMISE that I'm not going to let him show me up for too much longer:

This One Time At Band Camp

2005-10-17T16:58:00.000-07:00

Requesting a Fly By

2005-10-12T09:37:00.000-07:00

You know...I'm always looking for a good excuse to blame all the bad shit on. I could go for the "my parents didn't raise me right" excuse, but that's just too predictable. EVERYONE uses that one. There's always the public school system, but..again...predictable. Besides, that one is much better used when discussing issues like gun-wielding kindergarteners and teenage pregnancy. There's always the ever-present "governmental oppression" excuse, but that's probably reserved more for the people that are living in the home-made bunker under their makeshift bathroom that has no running water. I'd just feel bad to use that one. I may have hit on something though. Bear with me on this one as it may seem a little far-fetched at first glance.

Flash back to 1986. I'm 13 years old. Jill and I were "the shit." (If you don't believe me, ask her.) You know...we spent hours curling our hair and putting on lip gloss and blue eye shadow. We knew every word to every song they played on The Edge and words to some songs they didn't. We were as cool as you could probably be when you're 13. That's the way I remember it anyway.
We lived in a very small town and the nearest movie theater was in a not-much-bigger town nearby. The theater itself was small and there was no "stadium seating" or reclining seats. We sat in the back because we were way too cool to sit where there were parents or, god forbid, younger kids. We were there to see "Top Gun." Actually, we were there to see Tom Cruise, larger than life. He was a heartthrob. Even better, he was a bad boy heartthrob in this one. Which brings me to my newest excuse for the bad things in my life right now. There's a scene...I'm sure you remember...where Maverick sits through a training class with Charlie and he totally shows her up. She is obviously flustered to the hilt and he is obviously loving it. Even at 13, I could easily recognize the sexual tension being created on this screen in front of me. What followed is a scene where the two of them are alone having a very heated conversation about what had taken place in that room. What she says, eventually, is along the lines of, "I just don't want everyone in that room to see right through me and know that I've fallen for you." My heart skipped a beat at that moment. I remember it clearly. It was the moment that I knew the guy would get the girl and the girl would be head over heels in love with him. It was the moment that I knew I wanted that in my life someday. It was the intensity and the climax of that moment, those words she said. It was the way she was breathless and flush. It was so many emotions and all at one time.

That movie instilled something in me that is still vivid 20 years later. So...I think this is the best excuse for why I can't be happy. I want THAT. I want the intensity, the passion. I want to be breathless and flush. I want to want someone so much that it makes me angry and excited all at once. I want someone to kiss me like he kissed her. I want a man that can melt me no matter how strong or independent I may be. I don't want someone just because they have a good job and can pay the bills. I don't want someone because they make a good father. I don't want someone because he is comfortable or stable or funny. I want what Charlie had. So...long story short--I need Maverick. Anyone have his number?

Thought-Provoking Thursday (on Wednesday)

2005-10-05T10:29:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to post tomorrow, so you guys are lucky enough to get it a day early. I don't have much time to post today, so I'll get right to the point.

1. Summer or Winter?

2. Lace, leather or satin?

3. Leno or Letterman?

Edit This

2005-10-04T20:33:00.000-07:00

I have had this overwhelming urge to just go edit-crazy on my blog. I want to change my profile. I want to change my template. I want to change my comments section. I'm just looking for a general editfest. The thing is...nothing seems right. The new templates just don't seem to reflect the "inner me." The whole comment section issue seems like too much work. I went to edit my profile, then realized...with all the people who may want to stalk me (I am more popular than you might think in the third-world blogging communities), it would probably be best to go with a "less is more" approach. So, long story short-I removed one link and changed that stupid ass question in my profile. My question to all of you: Is this incredible desire to reshape my blog indicative of a bigger issue or is it a result of issues I already have?

Million dollar question, people.

On the Stage of My Life

2005-10-04T09:10:00.000-07:00

Who is that girl I'm watching? What is this chaos that surrounds her and why is she trying to be oblivious? I'm sitting back, waiting to see how it all plays out...this drama, this comedy.
Does she have the courage to stand her ground? Her voice sounds strong. Her face, stoic and determined. She appears to be so solid and resigned.
I hear thoughts well up inside me...just an instant before she speaks them. I feel emotions..anger, fear, excitement..just an instant before she reacts.
I feel good about what she's doing..how she's doing it. I have confidence that she seems to reflect.
I wonder how she got to this place. I wonder where she's going. I wonder if anyone else in the world is watching what I'm watching.....that girl, this drama, this comedy.

Reflections and Milestones

2005-09-28T10:33:00.000-07:00

There are some things I need to get out of my head, so you can totally ignore the first part of this post if you like. Otherwise...you were warned.

Things I've discovered through a few days of reflection:

1. I am as strong as I knew I was.

2. Someone else's opinion can only matter if you want it to.

3. I have the right to be happy. Really happy. Not just content.

4. If you change who you are for someone else, it changes who you are to yourself and how you feel about yourself.

5. If you continue to let someone else's bad behavior negatively affect your life, it's your problem.

6. Even if you know where you want to go, it's best to know, first, where you stand.

7. I'm an incredible fucking person. :)

Ok..so that last one was just to make me feel good. In general, I've figured out more than I thought I knew. One way or another there are about to be some drastic changes in my life. There will be people (the crazy ones) that will have serious issues with those changes. There will also be people (the less crazy ones) that get it and still want to be part of my life because they love me unconditionally. I guess the telling moment is about to arrive. It's time to separate the crazy from the less crazy.

In somewhat related news...
I know I promised updates, but I'm going to be spending the next 30-35 days of my life in overdrive. I have a million things to get done and only a month to get them done. That being said..not so sure about the updates.

In totally unrelated news...
We're gonna party like it's 1999. This is my 100th post. I was going to have just a party without reflection yesterday but I was too busy reflecting. So..have a few drinks for me tonight. It took a year and 3 months to get there, but I have managed (totally through the use of smoke and mirrors) to keep some of you coming back. Probably because every time you come back to read this crap, you get a little dumber; just dumb enough to come back and do it again.

Go To Your Happy Place

2005-09-23T09:55:00.000-07:00

My life has seriously sucked ass for the last few weeks. Mainly because people are going out of their way to make sure it sucks ass. I have a feeling it's going to get better though. And if I have anything to do with it, I bet it gets WAY better. Stay tuned. (Except Larry, because I know you might get a little stressed if you stay tuned and there's no new update. You should probably just stay half-tuned.)

And now (insert drumroll).....FRIDAY FAVORITES
(I know it's been a while so to refresh your memories...this is where I list 10 objects or events that I have really enjoyed lately.)

1. SoCo and Lime shots

2. Friends that know me and still love me unconditionally

3. I don't live in the path of a hurricane

4. My daughters

5. When conniving and devious people have to watch their latest bullshit backfire

6. Sex

7. Sleep

8. New episodes of various reality shows

9. Lost

10. Secretly spying on my oldest through the new blog she thinks I don't know how to find.

Soccer Momma Drama

2005-08-30T11:25:00.000-07:00

So..I sent my last two half-live plants to the porch this morning. It's my last-ditch effort at keeping them alive. I'm not really sure the ficus is gonna make it. I told it I was really sorry, doused it with the garden hose and then left it in the hands of the Sun God.

My husband hates me intermittently. Mostly when we're not having sex. I know, I know..the obvious solution is to just constantly have sex. I say all that bitterness only spices up the sex, so..hate on, honey.

My soon-to-be-teenager hates me almost as much as she hates her life. I told her last night that she'll probably be hating me for the next 6 years so we'll talk about it on the other side of her 18th birthday. She said she was sure she'd hate me for the rest of her life. I reminded her that the rest of her life may not be long if she keeps talking to me like that. God---I sound like my mother.

The 2 year old just hates that she's only 2. She was mad a couple of days ago, sitting on her potty chair--naked--fake crying for all she was worth. When I told her she was funny, she said, "Don't talk anything to me anymore!!" So...2 down, 1 to go.

Actually, the middle one has been pretty easy. Her biggest concern is what outfit goes with what shoes and whether she'll have time in math class to finish her lesson set so she won't have homework.

It's nice that Jill's staying home these days. I haven't seen much of her, but I get to talk to her more. Maybe when they invent something to remove that baby girl from her breast for a while, we can go hang out. Oh wait...they did..it's a bottle! (Jill)

My schedule has officially gotten nuts. The combined soccer schedule is Tuesday and Thursdays, 6-8pm, Wednesday and Fridays 6:30-8pm, Goalie training Fridays 6-7:30, games will be Saturdays and Sundays starting next weekend. The girls have to be picked up from school at 2:30 everyday. (Luckily, Ken's been taking them every morning.) I'm doing my classes online again this semester. The bar has just changed hands and I'm working Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday until we get staff built back up. ESPN is doing a remote from our bar on Thursday for the TU game. There's a huge street party so I'm working 14 hours. If only I were a more organized person....

Well..on to Social Systems and Problems....

I'm Baaaaaack!

2005-08-26T14:29:00.000-07:00

Hating my life today as much as I love it. I hate these days. I wish there were designated love-your-life days as well as designated hate-your-life days. Then you wouldn't have to do it all at once.

I have spent the last 2 hours feverishly searching my blog for a particular comment that my husband is sure that a particular person left on my blog. I knew that no such comment existed. I was 99.9% certain. And guess what? I was right.

Things have been nuts for me lately. I'm sure that blogging will again me a necessity if I wish to stay sane. Not saying that I'll be wishing to stay sane, BUT if I do...you guys will all be hearing from me much more often.

Not Holly

2005-08-08T15:54:00.000-07:00

Holly's computer is crashed. School supplies and school clothes take precedence over the fixing of the computer. I'm sure she'll be back in the next coupla weeks.

Things You Probably Don't Know About Me

2005-06-08T18:11:00.000-07:00

1. I have no tatoos. I find them highly erotic, when properly done and placed, but I don't have one.

2. I don't believe in ADD. Well, I believe there may be such a thing, but not to the extent it is diagnosed.

3. I hate corn.

4. I LOVE Nine Inch Nails and George Strait.

5. I hate wearing panties, and rarely do. (Much to my husband's dismay.)

6. I go insane without long fingernails.

7. I hate for anyone to see me completely nude.

8. From the time I can remember until about 5 years ago, I wanted nothing more than to become an attorney.

9. I count things. Not to the level of disorder...just habitually. I count steps I take sometimes. I count while I shower. I count while webpages load.

10. I love my lips.

11. I think size matters.

12. I cry when children sing. Especially my own. Christmas and Patriotic school programs are the worst.

13. I am a reality-tv whore.

14. I hate riding with the windows down.

15. I have an insane attraction to men that are emotionally needy. I have a need to be their savior and "fix" them, but when I can't...I hate them.

16. I believe in ghosts.

17. I always dream in color and from the first-person perspective. I've never seen myself in a dream.

18. I believe in God because I'm afraid not to. The same goes for Blog Jesus.

19. I love lips on my neck.

20. I have killed every plant I've ever owned.

I've Decided....

2005-06-08T02:46:00.000-07:00

Drunken, slutty men: my new favorite entertainment.

P.S. Glad you didn't puke, Toby.

A Great Man Once Said: (and I quote) "Bring On the Heat. Bring On the Babbling Bitches."

2005-05-29T20:59:00.000-07:00

I know there's another day left in this holiday weekend, but I'm officially calling it quits today. My head is still pounding, and that's the least of my pains right now.
It was a pretty good weekend, all said and done. No children. Lots of alcohol. Funny boys. Blow-up dolls. Rosy crotches. Donkey punches. Unadulterated references to anal sex. Completely unintelligent conversation. And that was just Friday night.

Just a note of advice: Don't ever depend on Blog Jesus to take care of your hangover. He laid out a plan that sounded pretty good. I blissfully consumed alcohol at a more-than-moderate clip, knowing that I could just heed the advice of Mr. Omnipotence, himself. Now all I have is a hangover and a parrot that keeps squawking some shit about, "That's whatcha get for bein' a babbling bitch."

Friday Favorites

2005-05-27T13:19:00.000-07:00

1. My favorite blog wherein one can ask for guidance from a clearly-higher mind and sometimes actually receive a coherent answer.

2. My favorite blog wherein one can find an obvious need for guidance from a clearly-higher mind and occasionally pretend you are that mind with random comments. (He won't always know that you're not.)

3. Beer

4. My ex-husband's misery

5. Weekends without children

6. Edie, my little baby bear, calls her oatmeal, "porridge."

7. Sausage and mushroom pizza

8. The Downy ball

9. Summer

10. Still lovin' that ladybug.

Bonus: Chapter Two AND Thought-Provoking Thursday

2005-05-26T20:43:00.000-07:00

The spring of '91: I'm set to graduate high-school and attend a good school on scholarship. I had been dating Jeremy (ex-husband) since the start of my senior year. My parents must have been getting a little antsy wondering what else they could do to sabotage my life, considering I would be moving out in mere months. We were coming off of the winter drama that involved my 15-year-old pregnant sister (who went on to prove all the statistics wrong,) and you'd think that would be enough. But no. A tornado wreaks havoc on Smallville, demolishing the town and ending the school year a month early. You might even think that would be enough. Nope. Days before my graduation, my mother decided to bestow the ultimate motherly-love secret upon me that included a red-headed janitor and marital infidelity. Again...enough? Again, no. It all ended in a big, ugly mess on my graduation night. Bingo! Mission accomplished. So..I moved with Mom to the shitty-ass apartments on the bad sid of town, forewent my scholarship because my parents refused to speak long enough to file their taxes to allow me financial aid to cover the other $4000 of tuition, and the fun begins.

Jill and I, all grown up of course, rekindled the friendship of old and set out to conquer the world. Ok..maybe just a few square miles of Tulsa, but we had dreams, dammit. The summer was actually quite hazy, in more sense than one, but it does finally introduce "B" (or Brook, for those of you who are interested enough to follow our little drama.) I went on Jeremy-hiatus at least 15 times that summer. Jill was searching for a way out of the 3 1/2 year-wrong-boyfriend relationship. We were young and attractive and stupid. We wore skirts as short as they made. We laid out by the pool all day and smoked and drank all night. We worked, I believe, 2 days that summer at a telemarketing firm. We never had money, but always had beer, cigarettes, and gas. We were tan and thin. Mostly, we were happy. There are lots of great details, like the time we went to a party and left the beer in the trunk of Jill's parents car, only to lock the keys in the car. We chose not to drive the 6 miles to get new keys. We just had the guy with the cast bust the window. Got the beer. That's what counted. There are stories of Raising Arizona and mayflies and Cisco-induced vomiting. (I'll save all that for the book. Hope you're on that, Annie.) Most importantly, we found independence that summer. And Jill found Brook. I would love to lay before you some wonderful, whirlwind/fairytale romance that brought about the union, but I was really too high to remember most of it. I mostly remember that they were perfect for each other and we had a blast. There were countless nights of quarters and Asshole (Brook always won, the motherfucker,) and the first 2 of only 3 alcohol-related meetings with the toilet for me Again, Brook always won, the motherfucker.(In his defense: he held my hair both times.) When I think back, it seems like there was a party every night. I don't know if it really happened that way or only felt that way. I just know that it was an induction into real life and we wanted to make the most of it. And we did. In the end, this chapter gave us all someone to lean on, someone to count on. We had each other.

Time went on and we all changed. I married Jeremy and had 2 babies. Jill married Brook and had 2 of her own. Sometimes I hated Brook, sometimes Brook hated me. There were months on end, for the next few years ,that Jill and I would lose touch, only to pick up right where we left off. We had babies and fought with husbands. We told secrets and laughed and cried. In the end, we both divorced. I hate laying blame in a divorce, mine or anyone's, so I won't lay it on anyone in either. I still love all of them. In actuality, probably equally. I wouldn't trade a minute of any of it.

So there you have it...Chapter Two. Not as exciting as you'd hoped, huh?

Now more important business: Thought-Provoking Thursday!

Low-Carb Beer: beer companies' thoughtful approach to health-consious alcoholism or bullshit marketing ploy?

Oral sex preference: performer or performee?

Quarters: ingenious way to get girls really fucked up or Brook's evil monopoly?

Now, What Do We Have Here? An Outlaw and His Beer?

2005-05-24T08:39:00.000-07:00

For all of you that have been following the drama, I'd like to introduce "B." He'll be defending himself on all past and future charges. Try to go easy on him and enjoy!

(You can link over from my links section also.)

It Started Way Back in History

2005-05-23T11:45:00.000-07:00

My life has, seriously, been a series of events wherein my parents have tried to ruin my life. I don't usually say that out loud, but I believe it.

I was born in 1973 to 17- year-old, pot-smoking, rebellious parents. My father soon enlisted in the military and proceeded to make a mockery of marriage, service, and himself. My mother divorced him while he sat in the stockade when I was only 15 months old. You know why? Because she was pregnant with my sister and really wanted to marry the guy that allegedly got her that way. So...in 1975, 3 weeks before she delivered Shirlynn, she married the man I call Daddy. They moved back to Tulsa, resding in the poorest area not yet taken over by subsidized housing (it got that way about 4 years later) and began to raise their family. In 1977, Annie was born.

I don't remember a whole lot of life back then. You know..memories of bicycle riding and digging holes to China with a teaspoon. In 1982, they came to me to inform me that I actually had a different father. A nice, alcoholic, irresponsible one. His mother had died and they really wanted me to attend the funeral. Now...I try not to judge them for this next part, but it was possibly the biggest mistake ever. The bastards send me to the funeral with a bunch of people I only knew in passing. That wouldn't have been quite so bad, except that it was my first funeral, and worst of all...it was a Catholic funeral. (There are 2 things I try to avoid at all costs in life: Catholic weddings and Catholic funerals. Each are equally time consuming and confusing.)
In 1983, my parents decided to step up the torture that was my life and moved to Smallville. It's kind of funny how it happened. My father decided to step outside his religion and marriage for a little fling. He took his girlfriend to the mall one day. Here in Tulsa, there is a little news segment called "Waiting Child." It's one of those public service spots where they try to show everyone, in 90 seconds, why they should adopt a 9 year old. My father sat, obliviously, in the background of one of those tapings and made out with his girlfriend. I guess if you're gonna go down, you might as well go big. Where was I? Oh..Smallville. Now..I don't know how many of you know about these kinds of towns, but there's some sort of code. Namely, if you're not wealthy then your parents needed to have attended school in said town if you are going to have a chance of survival without ridicule. I had niether. I spent the next 2 years trying to figure out what the fuck a rubber was and figuring out how to make my bangs a little bigger so I wouldn't stand out so much for not knowing what a rubber was. The bulk of these years were marked by forced religion, bi-polar mothering, and excessive discipline. All of that, I consider to to be the first chapter of my life. Actually, the Prologue. Sometimes, I just don't consider it part of my life at all. It was just the foundation upon which my cycle of co-dependence, semi-alcoholism and dysfunction was built.

Chapter 1 began in 7th grade. I was 12 years old. I was ok with my position in the hierarchy. I had plenty of friends. I was a cheerleader. I was doing a great job of blending in with the herd. I had perched myself precariously between knowing what a rubber was and knowing not to be involved in the act that required one. My parents had gone and had a baby! A baby! I was twelve...we really didn't need that thing! Still yet, I was content. That was until the arrival of the new girl. She was way too cool for the rest of us. She came from a big school in the big city. Her parents had money, but not a lot by Smallville standards; and they didn't attend school at Smallville. What was this? This girl did not have the keys to success in this town and most of all: She didn't give a damn. She was loved and hated by everyone that counted. She talked about things we never knew. She had a different hair cut and wore different clothes. She didn't care about cheerleaders or song dedications. She knew all the words to the coolest songs. And that was only her first week. I knew Jill was my soulmate.

Jill and I were inseperable for the next few years. She was my solace and I was hers. We pursued boyfriends, cut each other's hair, learned to wear make-up, got our first kisses, made it to 1st base and 2nd and 3rd, drank our first sip of vodka from a Tupperware tumbler, and generally held each other up. Some wandered in and out of our 2 girl clique; some tried and were denied. They were the years of all my best memories. Sometimes the right humidity and the sun in the perfect spot in the sky still takes me back to swimming in a dirt-clouded river, giggling about Shannon Boyd's boyfriend kissing one of us last night at the East Campus dance.

Our high-school years were rough. Jill found the wrong boyfriend. I spent too much time looking for the right one. We drifted apart at 15 and it would be 2 years before things would be back on track.

Character Recap:
Holly: me
Shirlynn: sister of Holly
Annie: sister of Holly
Jill: best friend of Holly

Shannon Boyd: unfortunate victim of 2 way-too-cool 8th graders.

A Few of My Favorite Things

2005-05-20T08:02:00.000-07:00

1. My most very favorite thing this week and possibly this year: This is a must have. Seriously..I can't think of the right words right now.

2. My favorite blog: If you aren't reading here, you should be. And you should be telling all your friends to read it too. Or your wife, at the very least.

3. My second favorite blog: This one cracks my ass up. Everyday. That MPH is seriously a genius or druggie. Either way, funny shit.

4. Cucumber-melon lotion from Bath & Body Works.

5. The end of the semester.

6. Kentucky Fried Chicken. It hates me and I can't get it in all of Northeastern Oklahoma anymore, but I still love it.

7. My ex-husband's misery.

8. A long, quiet nap.

9. Intelligent, talented daughters.

10. Did I mention that Ladybug?

Thought-Provoking Thursday Debut

2005-05-18T17:52:00.000-07:00

I've decided to start having a couple of blog theme days. I'm too flighty to post everyday, but I really need to keep my 3 readers coming back. Also, I recognize the need to stimulate my readers with something more than cat fights and snake stories. So..Thursdays will be your chance to post your opinion on general topics that I present. Feel free to discuss these amongst your three selves. Just remember that, legally, I must report all death threats to the appropriate law enforcement division.

Topic Number One- Rob and Amber: meritous of the attention/money they're getting that has culminated in a television program called "Rob and Amber Get Married" or cheap entertainment for an increasingly mindless society?

Topic Number Two- Sex and spanking: exciting spicer-upper or kinky?

Topic Number Three- Jam: Grape or Strawberry?

Mr. Brown, Could You Please Send Holly to the Principal's Office?

2005-05-18T13:39:00.000-07:00

Damn. Shit just got all middle-school over here at my place. Of course, it's not the first time. Hence the title of my blog, once again. I'll just go ahead and leave the previous post and comments for the entertainment of all. (And so all 3 of my other readers can feel like adults. I'm just trying to provide a service here, people.) So..how bout this..we'll just get it all said and done.

*Annie, my sister (by blood), has acquired carnal knowledge regarding my best friend's ex-husband, who is also a friend of mine.
*Annie has done some really great things with her life as of late, considering the path she was once on. Did I mention she made out with Billy Idol last week?
*My best friend (not by blood) is pregnant and married, but human. She has the same issues with the person seeking carnal knowledge regarding ex-husbands as the rest of us do.
*My best friend's current husband has created for himself a slightly checkered past, but he tries really hard to atone himself and you gotta love the little booger for that. In his defense, the sidewalk is kick-ass now. I especially appreciate the solar lighting system. Sweet.
*Men, most all of them, lie. Not just my husband, not just my best friend's. I'm sure whatever man that anyone is with is lying to them about some things. I'm sure whatever men are reading this have lied to avoid the lecture or tears or, you know, divorce.
*If not for the carnal knowledge issues, Annie (sister by blood) would have divulged all the silly details of her misgivings to Jill (best friend not by blood.) And would not be pissed at me for doing it.
*Cobblestone sidewalks are not a one day project. There's the planning, and digging, and replanning, and redigging. Then, you know, stones and sand and replanning. Really...it doesn't matter if you top it off with a solar lighting system.

So...you can see the story basically goes like this:

Jill divorces "B" (to protect his innocence...ahem.) Jill marries Jay. Holly, Jill, Annie, B, and Jay get along swimmingly for undisclosed number of years. B and Annie hook up. Jill sniffs out hook-up but B denies it. Aforementioned group of characters get along semi-swimmingly for undisclosed number of months. B, trying to protect his own innocence, comes clean about the hook up which sparks a period of the-opposite-of-swimmingly relations in aforementioned group. Annie, despite the great achievements of late, has a run in with the law and gets sent to the pokey. Holly and B swoop in to save the day. Holly and Jill make some smartass comments about sisters and pokeys. Annie is none too happy about that and makes some smartass comments herself. ONE of which was to call Jill a jackass. (She might have called me some names too, but who's keeping track?) Insert a 90 day interim involving lies, half-truths, drunkennes, Billy Idol concerts, soccer games, etc. Annie, now a known criminal, has a second but lesser run in with the law. Holly semi-subtly references run-in while trying to keep blog readers happy (like i said, trying to do a service.) Jill not-so-subtly references her own perfection, piety, and worthiness while mentioning the prior incident. Annie gets pissed. B sits in another state, laughing his ass off at all of it. Innocently, of course.

I love you all. Billy Idol rocks!

If Only

2005-05-16T12:24:00.000-07:00

If only this blog was one that offered anonymity; if only I could safely recant the warped reality that is my life; if only I could tell you the stories of the past week, I promise you'd laugh. Maybe you'd be appalled for a minute, but you'd laugh at the absurdity of it all in the end. I would probably tell you about people going to jail and ridiculous drunken encounters. I'd probably tell you about adults that act like children and men that act like boys. I'd probably make lots of funny little jokes about it all and you'd all leave funny little comments. We'd all have funny little exchanges. Yep...if only....

Instead, I'll just tell you all that it's been an interesting week where others may have went to jail again and there my have been husbands and ex-husbands that acted like fools.

I've taken that "fuck you" attitude that I tend to take.
Oh..you guys don't want to help clean the house? I tell you what..there's 18 frozen dinners in the freezer. Hope you like enchiladas.
Oh...you don't have any clean clothes to wear? You've got 2 hours till bedtime and the washer's right there.
What's that? Too tired for sex? Oh, well....frozen dinners are in the freezer and the washer's right there.

I know you guys would have enjoyed a good story. Maybe I'll get around to something good tonight. Imagine, if you can, that I would actually post twice in a single day. I might do it. And if I don't and you don't like it.....Fuck you.

(See what I mean?)

It's My Time

2005-05-09T20:54:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here reveling in the near silence of my home. Not silence, really, but as close as it gets in this chaos. From three separate rooms, I hear Nightline intertwined with adrenaline-prompted, Fear Factor screams between the canned laughter of that annoying fucking PBS British comedy. And hypnotic, sleep-induced breathing. Four chests rising and falling to a rhythm in my head. Four hearts...beating because I will them to beat. It's my time.

Nobody needs milk or money or a scratch right there below their shoulder. Nobody wants me to get off the phone or on the phone or to sign right here. Nobody needs a reminder that it's not ok to throw the ball at her sister's head, even if she did kick you in the face with it. Nobody is calling to tell me about the latest theory on the cause of fibromyalgia or the stress of California sales tax. It's my time.

The windows are open and the near-summer air hints of memories to come; those to be recalled and those to be made. The song of the frogs warns that soon it will be replaced by that of the summer cicadas; that familiar lull that represents my independence. The moth that lights on my monitor teases that he found his way in and will again in the months to come. It's my time.

I can immerse myself in volleyball games I've never played, pregnancies that aren't mine, vaginas known only by the initial assigned, and hot dog buns now on aisle 10. I can shower without Baby Magic. I can go out to smoke a cigarette without explaining long division or grammar rules. I can listen to my own thoughts. It's my time.

I find myself in one of those moments when I want to believe that it IS my life. I can do what I wish with it. I can be me, in spite of what everyone else wants me to be; in spite of what I pretend to be.

It's my time.

Further Proof that Larry Freakin' Rocks:

2005-05-08T22:04:00.000-07:00

Not only am I not deceased: I got a fuckin' A+ in Philosophy! Woooooofuckinhooooooo!

And for anyone that needs any cause for celebratory activity that includes alcohol....I just finished my last final for this semester...it was an A too.

Absolute Proof that Larry is NOT a Loser

2005-05-08T20:43:00.000-07:00

All of the above is correct. Thankfully, these tata's are worth $205 a night as of yet (and I'm not even baring them) and the snake met its demise. He probably thought it better to take the shovel to the head than attempt to conquer these babies!

So..to catch everyone up...I'm getting ready to take the last of the finals that my asshole professors found a way to drag out over 2.5 weeks. I encountered the largest copperhead known to man on my sidewalk 10 days ago. My husband made short work of him 4 days agos. I have taken to serving beer at the sports bar across from TU 2 nights a week for about $20 per hour. (I'll take it...I can find a million ways to spend it.) A general wrap up....I think I'm having a pre-mid-life crisis. Let me just go ahead and say...I've worn my hair in pigtails 3 of the last 7 nights. It's a sure sign...right? Boys seem to love it. Soccer season is coming to a close, 90 degree+ weather is nearing....my season is here. Shit's gonna get good.

Stay tuned.

Holly?

2005-05-05T14:29:00.000-07:00

The missing Holly might be:

-pondering what exactly art is
-taking kids to soccer practice
-caught up in 81 vaginas
-toilet training a sweet lil punkin
-figuring out how to get a 4 foot copperhead snake off of her porch
-shaking her tatas for tips in 30 minutes
-guilting her sister into training her on proper tata shaking
-all of the above

Love,
Jill

Bridge Over Troubled Water

2005-04-15T21:56:00.000-07:00

Conversation with Ciera on the way to her soccer game tonight:

Her: Oh my gosh! That car has a license plate from Hawaii! Do you think they drove all the way from Hawaii?? That would seriously be a long drive.

Me: (Pause to see if she's serious..she is.) Yeah, sis. They drove on that bridge between California and Hawaii.

Her: (Pause to see if I'm serious...she can't decide.) Is there really a bridge?

Me: Sure, Ciera. A bridge that just goes thousands of miles.

Her: Momma! Stop! I didn't know. I thought California might be close to Hawaii. I figured that's why it's always in that little box by California on the maps.

In that moment, I realized why my daughter is such a good goalkeeper. She just doesn't know any better.

Speaking of goalkeeping...tonight was our first of 8 games this weekend. Ciera plays 4 and Avery plays 4. Well...Ciera plays 4 if we make it to finals. I'm hoping if I say it enough, we will. We won tonight 2-1. Good for us. We get 3 points toward tournament standings. The other team gets none. She is really playing well. I'm really happy. She's allowed only 3 goals in the last 8 games. Can't really complain about those kind of stats.

Oh..and if anybody has any suggestions for the 5 page philosophy paper I have to turn in by Monday....the topic is: What is the meaning of life? Nice, huh?

I Ain't Skerred

2005-04-11T22:37:00.000-07:00

Ok...I'm just going to put it out there because I know everyone is wondering it:

What the hell is going on over there at the Self Conscious place? Every day, I get all pumped up that there is going to be something new and thought provocative there waiting from my brain to wrap around it. Every day I click on that site on my list of favorites and hold my breath while it loads. Every day it's the same thing and now I can't even bitch about it. First it was cause I wasn't a member and now because the bitching area has disappeared altogether.

(I'm not sure that I have ever used the words "pumped up" to describe my state of mind. )

Anyway, the point being...you guys are welcome to come here to bitch or just generally beg for the hiatus to end.

News on the daily grind: Oh..wait..it's just the daily grind. I'm dreaming of soccer games. It's so bad that I'm dreaming of lurid affairs with non-existent soccer dads at non-existent soccer fields. You'd be amazed what your imagination can do with those nets.

We've got 8 games this weekend. It'll be a glorious testament to my motherly committment and I'm sure you'll get to hear all about it when it's done. I've already started writing my acceptance speech for the Most Dedicated Mother of the Year award. I won't forget to mention all of you in the moral support section.

Oh, What A Beautiful Morning...

2005-04-08T10:10:00.000-07:00

Ahhhh. I woke up this morning with a fresh new look on life. Maybe it's the sunshine. Maybe it's the end of a menstrual hell. Maybe it's that I've re-thought some big issues. Either way....Hello, World. It's nice to see you today.

It has occurred to me that, although some people seem worth saving, many people don't want to be saved from themselves. My husband, for example. He wants to go to the club in slacks and a button-down shirt. The club in question is not that kind of club. Plus, he just looks retarded on the dance floor with his loafers and beer-gut. Mind you...my husband is an attractive man. I've got no complaints there. He was just much better suited in the slacks and white buttondown 4 years and 40 pounds ago. So, I'm making him wear jeans. I told him that I'm only saving him from himself. You know what he said though? "I don't want to be saved. I want to be comfortable." Hmmmm...makes sense. Who am I to force him to go to the bar and feel out of sorts? There are others....that I wish to save, I mean. I think the clear indication is that they do not want to be saved. Moreover, the clear indication is that they don't want to be saved by me. So...ok. I'm good with that.

Now, I know that my husband will come running to me to be saved from himself on this or some other issue. That seems to happen in marriage....mine, anyway. Those others though....we'll see.

So, tonight begins the soccer marathon. Avery plays tonight then I have 16 days that include 3 tournaments, 8 regular season games, 12 practice and traing sessions and a mad dash to keep up with my sanity. It's exciting stuff. I thrive on it, really. Which is probably an indication that my sanity has far surpassed me and I'm just running in its dust. But...either way...it'll be fun.

Today's a good day. I'm just taking stock today. Some people are back. I'm happy about that. And how lucky am I that more than one person shows themself again in the same day? Some people are cycling back out. Not that I'm happy about that, but I can breathe. I can re-think and realize. Some things have disappeared....for the next 28 days anyway. Better than nothing when you've been waiting for the bastard to get the hell out. The important people are still here. Even the one's that went to the back of the line for awhile. It's a good day.

Sunburn, Sore Throat and Second Place

2005-04-03T21:28:00.000-07:00

Those are the things we brought back from the Joplin Invitational. It was a good time. We didn't lose a game. 2 games on Saturday: both 1-1 ties. 2 games on Sunday: both 1-0 wins. My daughter was wonderful.

Warning: Overly-proud, gushy description of my goalie superhero ahead:

I'll just say that overall..she was incredible. The coach said she played better than he's seen her play in 2 seasons. She looked good. (Thanks, B. Now that I can say that in person here.) Your work is paying off. The most exciting part though...she sent a girl off the field in an ambulance. Don't get me wrong here, I don't encourage injurious behavior. It's amazing the feeling you get when your child has done so well, though, and worked so hard that somebody is paying the price in bodily injury. I don't know where it comes from. I hope it's some primal instinct over which I have no control. Either way...I liked it. I'm glad the girl wasn't hurt badly. It turned out to be a deep tissue bruise and she'll probably only be out a week or two. It is a strange pride though. What does that say?

In other news: Due to recent events, I may be calling it quits on the blog. I have found myself in the middle of shit that I never wanted in the middle of to begin with and that shouldn't be happening. Beyond that, I'm finding that people who (or is it whom?) I thought were honest with me, are not. And I'm offended by it. And if any of those people feel the need to talk to me about it now that I know who (or is it whom?) all of you are...feel free. You know I love all 3 of you in spite of the names you call or accusations you make.

How DO You Have Sex With a Metaphor?

2005-03-28T22:15:00.000-08:00

So...yes..I finished the lab. And it was pretty damn good. It was postmarked at 11:45 am on the 26th. Exactly 36 hours and 15 minutes before the time it was due. You know how bad I am? I got up at 7:00 am on Saturday to finish it because it had to be postmarked by the 27th but the 27th was a Sunday. I finished it by 9:00 am. Then I sat around on the phone and talked until 11:25 am before I drove the 20 miles to the nearest post office that was open on Saturday. And of course they closed at noon.

After weeks of insistence, I finally joined my sister for an evening at the comedy club on Saturday night. Jesus....well...if only Jesus would have been there. We met for the 10:00 show. She and her comrades obviously started drinking a few hours before. She was wearing a shirt that could have only been worse if she weren't wearing one at all. I tried to subtly suggest that she may want to tuck some shit in or something. That was only countered with some very loud banter about how good her shit looks considering she's had a kid and all (You know...8 freakin' years ago.) I mean..really..I've had three. I've still got a long way to go before I'm in navel territory. I know that my D's may not compare the the "Holy Shit, what size are those?" cup size that she has, but come on! Nobody wants to look at that. There was some mention of how she got the shirt on sale at Gap. We all know that those clothes are only made for the boob-job-in-waiting girls. As if merely displaying her bosom to the world was not enough, she waited until the headliner called her onstage and decided to expose them, in all their bare-breastedness, for the world to enjoy. How do you tell someone they've moved from being the alcoholic that provided entertainment for all to a plain old fucking drunk? I'm working on that one. I got drunk enough that I bought the headliner's book AND dvd. He was working hard for his money and you know...Annie ruined the last 10 minutes of his set. I was kind of obligated. It's not a bad book though. My favorite line so far: (speaking of not having sex with the perfect woman at the perfect time) "I just don't know how to fuck a metaphor."

I spent the holiday doing the regular family thing. It was ok. Nice, actually. Good food and the girls had a great time. Those are the things that count. My step-mother is vegan but she is also Italian. She can cook meat in a way you never knew meat could be cooked. Ham AND turkey breast! Sweet potatoes with apples and pecans (delightful!), corn and broccoli medley, two kinds of salad, two kinds of bread, carrots, deviled eggs, fruit salad and cookies. We played a 12 member game of Balderdash! wherein all four of the adolescent members of the family made (semi-anonymously) every infantile reference to sex and curse words that is humanly possible. My 12 year old read the word "bitch," in front of me with all of the courage she could possibly muster. It was nice family bonding. I came home at 10pm and spent an hour and 45 minutes taking a 3 hour General Environmental Biology test. I'll get back to you on the results.

Today, I let the girls play "sick" and we went to the zoo with my step-mother, her daughter and four grandchildren, 2 of my sisters, and my nephew. It was fairly uneveventful. I have sunburn but Edie loved the "aminals."

I just finished my government assignment...3 twenty question quizzes, a 2 page answer to a threaded discussion and a 400-word paper. A's on all the quizzes...we'll have to see on the other 2 assignments. And yes...I did get the assignment last Monday. What's your point?

I can't wait until this semester is over. I think I'm taking the summer off!

I Think I Can, I Think I Can, I Think...

2005-03-24T09:33:00.000-08:00

Today I am going to finish my lab report that's due in 2 days. What's that? You laugh? You scoff? Well, watch me. I know I can do it. Nevermind that I've had 2 months to do it. Nevermind that I have 3 more labs due in the next month. I can do this, I tell you. So why are you blogging then, Holly? Is that what you ask? Well, because I want to reward myself with a break now because I might not be able to take one later. Makes perfect sense to me.

Why do I procrastinate? I tell myself it must be because I work better under pressure. And I do. I can get things done all at once if I know I have to AND I can make it wonderful. At least, that's what I think. I mean..I don't remember a time I finished something without being under pressure. It's almost like some kind of high for me. Why do suppose that is?

I've lost 5 pounds. I haven't actually weighed myself. I'm just going by those jeans that won't go on after that certain last pound. I'm wearing them. That makes me happy.

My baby sister called last night. She got a place of her own. She's so excited. She's paying too much money to live on the good side of town. She's driving too far to get to school, but it's just 5 miles from her job. She needs me to make a list of all the things you need in a new place. The little things she will overlook, you know, "like toilet paper and shit." And she needs me to go furniture shopping with her this weekend. And she needs to know if I think it's appropriate to have a house-warming party when you move into an apartment because she really wants a toaster oven and vacuum cleaner. And she wants to know if Shirlynn can get her a good deal on a washer and dryer with the Whirlpool discount. And she wonders if I will let her babysit the girls at her new place. And she wonders if I'm happy that she's on the 3rd floor since I was so worried with that serial rapist guy sneaking in bottom floor windows and doors. And...oops...her lunch break is over and she has to go. Anyway..don't forget the list. She'll call tomorrow. (Oh to be nineteen again.)

I had a bad mother day yesterday. One of those days when I yelled about too many things and threatened too many times with things I never followed through on. I just get so tired some times. You really want to know how bad it was? We had oatmeal for dinner. I just couldn't get into "mommy" mode for some reason. I'm glad it's a new day. I bet they are too.

Skinniness is Only Beauty Deep

2005-03-22T07:34:00.000-08:00

That's true, you know? I'm working on the 15 pounds I've gained. I thought I'd kick it off with a tan. I'm an idiot and my ass is on fire.

Funny how things happen when you're gone for awhile. Even when you're vacationing from cyberspace. I forgot the comfort of eavesdropping on others. I remember the way some things just make you feel good. Something very strange has happened over at M's place. JM still makes me warm all over (Most importantly, in the important places *wink*). J dreamt about me and I'm not even pregnant. Maybe she still loves me. Larry is still Larry...which is good, Larry. I think I'll hang around awhile.

For those of you who think I don't need you, I do. Probably more now than then. You know me. I measure my worth by those that need me. And when I feel like I'm not needed, I try to stop needing. Dysfunctional, I know.

My children are beautiful wonderful creatures. My oldest is becoming a whole new person. I love it. She talks to me and wants to shop with me. She needs more shoes to go with more outfits. She talks on 3-way with her boyfriend and best friend for hours on end. My middle one still dances with the vacuum cleaner no matter how many times I tell her to get off it. She knocks over everything in her personal area and she sits on my lap when it storms. Edie is beginning to potty train. I take her to the bathroom with me. We're trying the modeling technique. The other day she said, "You're using the potty like a big girl, Mommy?" I said, "Yep, big girls use the potty." She walks over to me sitting on the toilet, wraps her arm around me and says, "Awww, Mommy, you're so smart." As J said...who's training who?

Do you think philosophy makes you dumber?

Sing Me a Lullaby

2005-02-04T20:21:00.000-08:00

So..I'm home. It's 10:20 pm. I'm exhausted, but you know what? My daughter was infreakincredible in her game tonight. Those of you who keep up know she is a keeper. That's her sole position and she shares it with no one. She's had a building desire to spend some time on the field lately. She can usually hold her own in a defender or mid position. She just hasn't done it in a LONG time. She made a deal with her coach that he would let her play on the field if she shut the other team out in the first half. She held up her end and he held up his. Except he put her in as a FORWARD! I watched her run out and take position and my heart stopped for a second. I was so afraid it was gonna be ugly. Oh...how wrong I was. She scored the first point of the second half! The first goal she's made in an actual game in 3 years. And it was beautiful! She came sprinting down the field, hurdled the girl that fell in front of her just in time to intercept the pass and put it in the upper 90 for a goal. I almost cried. The parents in the stand went crazy. The teammates were high-fiving. Beautiful. Makes all of the crazy chaos that led up to it....miniscule, non-existent, soooo worth the ending! I love how children can do that for you: just erase all the bad with one crowning moment.

So good night all. And sweet dreams. I might me back tomorrow...... if I wake up.

I'm Too Tired to Think of a Catchy Little Title, So Shutup and Read

2005-02-04T11:15:00.000-08:00

Thursday, February 3, 6:30 am: Woke up and began the daily grind.

2:30 pm: Picked up girls from school and did all the "after-school" stuff.

6:00 pm: Took a Sociology exam (and got an A).

8:00 pm: Bedtime stuff

10:00 pm Opened a beer, talked with husband, watched the news, opened a 2nd beer

Midnight: Began extremely hot, extremely relaxing shower.

Friday, February 4

12:30 am: Exited aforementioned shower, wrapped towel around me, checked on girls, went to refrigerator for beer

12:33 am: Telephone rings and conversation as follows:
Strange Male Voice: May I speak to Holly, please?

Me: This is Holly.

Strange Male Voice: Holly, this is Officer Miller with the Tulsa Police department. I'm here with your sister, D. She has asked that we call to see if you will come get her car. We'll be taking her in on a DUI.

Me: Is she ok?

Officer Miller: Well, aside from the puking, she seems fine. It seems she fell asleep at the intersection a couple of miles back. Someone tried to wake her and she took off and ended up in this little grassy field next to a parking lot.

Me: But I can come get her car?

Officer Miller: Well, yeah. It seems she was coming from her bridal shower, I guess?

Me: *pause, pause* Oh...yes.

Officer Miller: Well, she has a car full of presents and we really don't want to have to tow it if we don't have to.

Me: Well, ok..but here's the thing: I'm 45 miles away.

Officer Miller: *chuckles* Really? Well do you know anyone closer that can come get it?

Me: I'll make some calls. Do you have a number where I can reach you?

Officer Miller: Just call me on your sister's phone.

12:40 am: I call all appropriate family members. Those that answer are no closer than I. I call B because I know he's the only other person that is probably coming from the bar and maybe in the vicinity. He's as drunk as she is. I tell him not to worry. I'll figure out something. He says he'll go. He'll be fine. I told him I would meet him at my sister's house and take him back to get his car.

12:45 am: Get dressed, smoke a cigarette. Call and break the news to Mom.

1:00 am: Leave for Tulsa

2:00 am: Finally rouse B from the passed out state at my sister's house so we can go get his car. Follow him to get gas and back home as he is drunk and I was a little concerned.

3:00 am: Home, talking to husband about the events and what I should do in the morning.

3:05 am: Sister calls. Says, "Come get me. They're letting me go. They dropped it to "actual physical control" because I wasn't driving."

3:10 am: Pick up B to go with me because I have no idea about how to handle these things or where to go. And it's a little scary downtown when you're a woman all alone at 4 am.

3:40 am: Arrive at the David L. Moss Correctional Center. 45 minutes later am informed they don't know why she called because she can't be released until someone posts the $500 bond. Realize this is a problem because the bank only allows $300 cash withdrawal in a 24 hour period. Informed that sister will have to stay at least 48 hours if no bond posted and she does not qualify to be released under New Day policy.

4:45 am: Go back to sisters house to make calls and confer with mother. Call baby sister to see if she has cash available. She's broke. Call several bondsmen and jail trying to work out a plan. Decide I can't spend the $100 on the bondsmen without her permission. Decide best course of action is to wait until bank opens at 8. Leave B snoring on couch and return home.

6:30 am: Arrive home 30 seconds before girls alarm clock wakes them.

6:40 am: Call jail to try to convince them to release sister under New Day Policy. Reached a very charming man who just happened to be a former police officer in this tiny little town where I live. Said he didn't see why they couldn't make the exception. She's never been arrested before. He'd get one of the counselor's on it.

7:00 am: Call from sister and New Day counselor. They are going to release her under the policy with no bond. She has begun to process out and should be ready for pick up within the half hour. Call B and ask him to go get her. He agrees after only a few profanities.

7:30 am: Drop girls at school. Husband drives me to sister's house because my eyes are becoming very heavy.

8:00 am: Arrive at sisters. No B, no sister.

8:30 am: Call B. Says they told him an hour ago that she should be ready momentarily.

9:00 am: B decides to come back to sisters and sleep some more and she can just call when she's out.

10:00 am: Sister calls. She's out. She needs a fucking coat and a fucking cigarette.

12:30 pm: Husband brings car to me on his lunch break. Baby sister arrives to transport Edie to Mom's. I take B home to shower and get his car so he can go pick up his kids from school.

1:15 pm: Arrive home. Start blogging to stay awake until I have to pick up oldest child from school at 2:40.

Now..just to clarify a few things:

1. I haven't slept in over 31 hours.
2. My sister did not have a bridal shower because no one is going to marry her dumb ass. Turns out she had picked up her down comforter from the cleaners and went to Wal-Mart for a crock pot, new vacuum cleaner, and mini-blinds before the drinking extravaganza. She was drunk and didn't know what else to say when they asked her why she had all that stuff in her car.
3. My only contact with law enforcement or their institutions has been receiving and paying speeding tickets. I was a little out of my element on this whole thing.
4. I was wearing my pajamas for every bit of this.
5. Did I mention I haven't slept?
6. Next time someone I know and/or love goes to jail, they should not call me. I will let them rot there.
7. Yes, sister dear, this is why they say I'm the good one and not you.
8. I now have to go BACK to Tulsa for the 4th time in 18 hours and sit through a soccer game this evening. I have no time for a nap between now and then. Did I say how freakin' tired I am?

It seems she has no recollection of parking her car in the grassy area. She just knows that she was sleeping until the officer opened the door and she fell out on him. She doesn't remember much more than that until she began puking ON the officer because the handcuffs were throwing her off balance and making her sick. She has a really good recollection of the officers calling for the "paddy wagon" because none of them wanted her puking in their cars.

She has hilarious stories to tell this morning. If I weren't so fucking tired, I'd probably laugh.

LOST: My sanity. Last Seen in Crazytown on the Corner of Running Cir. and Endofthe Rd. Reward Offered.

2005-02-01T21:13:00.000-08:00

"Momma, I think we're out of propane. The water's freezing."
Shit! See what this marital unbliss will do for you.
"Ok..no big deal. You won't die without a shower for one day."

"Momma, I forgot to do my oral math. We have to do it now."
"Sis...we have to leave in 2 minutes so you won't be late."
"But, Momma...."
"Fine, bring me the timer."

"Momma, I want gwaby and nonuts to eat. Go to the nonut store."
Finally, something easy.

"No, Grandpa. I don't think I'll be bringing Edie into town today. Of course I'll do your taxes again. No big deal. What kind of form? I'm sure we can take care of the homestead exemption too. I'll get there sometime this week."

Aristotle and migration transition. Civil liberties and Piaget.
Damn. I have to finish that paper. My culture...hmmm...does she really want the description I'm about to give? Maybe I'll get back to that one later.

Doll house and cooking plastic noodles. Care Bears and Cows that Type.

Oh..look...Edie's learned to unscrew the lid on her cup. Chocolate milk goes nicely with Winnie the Pooh sheets. Guess naptime's over. But I can't be mad. She learned to turn the lid. It's amazing.

"Momma, you won't believe this. Kaelynn and Cheyenne aren't friends anymore. They've been friends, like, their whole life and now they're not. Kaelynn is going out with this boy and Cheyenne has always hated him so she won't be Kaelynn's friend anymore. That's what she says. I think they'll be friends again though."
"I'm sure they will, Avery. They're nine. Going out with a boy gets boring pretty quickly when you're nine."
"I know. That's why Cheyenne's mad. Because she doesn't go out with boys, like, ever; and she says she won't until she's in like 5th grade or something."
"Hmmmmm."

"Sherry, do you mind if Ciera rides with Kacey to cardio practice today? I'm swamped with homework and really haven't accomplished anything today. Ok..we'll be right over."

"Momma! I forgot my water. You better stop at the store."

"Ken..can you pick Ciera up at Sherry's on your way home from work?"

Damn. The telephone again. I'll never finish this paper. I should try more than 20 minutes at a time.
"Yes. Ciera should be back from practice by now. It's been over for an hour and a half now. Yes. I told her you were coming. I'll call her."

"Ok..I figured you stopped at Wal-Mart or something. Ok..he's there waiting. Thanks again."

"Dinner? Oh, damn. It is that time already. Sorry, I was trying to finish up that paper. I laid out pork chops.....Well, that's fine too. Call it in."

"Momma, I need some duct tape and light bulbs."
"Are you building a bomb?"
"No. My desk lamp's burned out and I wanna try to make a wallet out of the duct tape."
At least she's not building a bomb.

And that fucking Adam STILL didn't get kicked off The Amazing Race. I swear...I'd slap the hell out that little bitch.

"Come in. I'm waxing my eyebrows. No it's not candle wax, dear. That's because I usually have time to do it when nobody's here. No, it doesn't hurt. Want me to do yours?"

Baths and teeth. Stuffed dogs and cups of milk.
"Yes, you can have some strawberry soda but just a little."

Snoring from the sofa's direction. A still yet unfinished description of my culture. Freshly groomed eybrows and a new coat of waitress-red polish.

And these are the highlights of my day???

LOST: My Sanity......

Don't Take That Tone With Me, Mister!

2005-01-31T08:51:00.000-08:00

The following entry will consist of a bunch of marital issue venting, so feel free to leave now. I won't be offended. I may even recommend it.

So..my husband is no great communicator. In fact, my husband is no communicator at all. When he decides to bless me with his opinion on the state of our relationship (which is quickly declining) it is usually in some language foreign to me that is based on fragmented thoughts and even more fragmented sentence structure. I am a communicator. I feel the need to articulate my thoughts/feelings (in complete sentences) and follow-up with intelligent discussion to the point of collective understanding. I had a conversation with my husband last night that just drove me to the edge. It was that conversation you have after days of silence, save the occasional conversation about weather or dirty diapers. If you're still reading at this point, it went something like this:

Me: Honey, we've got to get some things worked out. I can't stand this silence stuff. I'm starting to get resentful and I don't want that. I don't want to be in bed with my husband and not want to be there. I don't want to cringe when you brush by me in the hallway. Things are obviously tense between us. I'm upset because I have a lot of things on my mind about our marriage and I can't get resolution. I need for you to talk to me about it. I mean really talk to me. Don't sit there staring at the floor, twirling your hair while I talk. The one thing that drives me crazy is the silence and what appears to be your lack of respect for my thoughts by not acknowledging that I'm speaking to you. I think we've just come to a place where we are both placing way too much emphasis on what is the other person's responsibility to this relationship and not enough emphasis on what are our own respective responsibilities. (Fade to five minutes later where husband is still staring at the floor and twirling hair and I am still talking except for the occasional pause to allow for his interjection.) Do you agree or disagree with any of this? ......................................(2 minute silence while I watch him, eagerly awaiting response)

Me: Hello?
(30 more seconds)
Him: What do you want me to say, Holly?

Me: I want you to say something of your own volition. I don't want to tell you what to think and say. I want you verbalize whatever it is that has gone through your head in the last 8 minutes that you've sat there twirling your hair.

Him: It doesn't matter what I say. You'll just tell me what I think and if I say something it will be wrong or in the wrong tone.

Me: It DOES matter. And I only tell you what I "assume" you are thinking because you refuse to TELL me what you think. By all means, set me straight. Or...quit asking me what I want you to say. And as far as the tone thing, I'm not having that conversation. You know when you are using a condescending tone with a condescending comment. We've been over this.
(The "tone" issue refers to the fact that when he does choose to communicate, it's usually in a very hateful manner. And when I am offended by that, it's followed with an explanation of how he can't hear himself talk most of the time and doesn't know what kind of tone he has. His hearing is fine, by the way. He just says he sometimes thinks he's talking loud enough and he's not. He sometimes talks too loud when he thinks it's normal. He sometimes sounds condescending when he thinks he's being completely conversational. His explanations...not mine. I don't buy it. He doesn't have this problem with anyone but me.)

Him: See...there you go. I try to communicate with you and you are "implying" that I am wrong about the "tone" thing. You don't want to have that conversation again because you've already decided that what I think about my tone is not right and that's the end of the story.

Me: I think the toilet in the girls bathroom was trying to back up earlier. Can you take care of that?

Oh..and there was something in there where I said, "I'm really unhappy right now and I can't imagine that you're happy with all of my bitching about being unhappy. Are you happy?" To which he replied, "I thought I was happy. I mean, I'm happy when you hug me sometimes."

I went to bed. I can't take it. I mean, if he doesn't want to make me happy via verbal communication then he can keep me happy with a steady stream of flowers, dinners, seduction and the occasional diaper duty. It's not a tough trade-off. I am getting totally stressed about the whole thing. I'm not one of those people that can just push down emotion. I've tried and it usually leads to depression and extreme alcoholic consumption on a nightly basis. Not a good combination for a stay-at-home soccer mom sporting full-time student status. So..ok..I vented.

Let's see if I can think of anything a little less heavy to end this post. Hmmm..ok..45 days until the lakeside retreat. That makes me happy.

This Could Be the End

2005-01-28T11:58:00.000-08:00

God is seriously pissed right now. I looked out my window a while ago and it was raining, snowing and sleeting all at one time.

Oh..and I clicked "Next Blog" earlier and ended up here. It's the funniest shit I've read all week.

Joy, Pain and Confused Violation

2005-01-28T07:19:00.000-08:00

Yesterday afternoon Edie woke up from her nap just in time to go pick up the girls from school. I got her all bundled up and into the carseat. We proceeded down the driveway and she says, "I happy to see you, Mommy." How incredible is that? This child that spends nearly every waking moment of her life with me is happy to see me!

We have soccer tonight. Last week was a nightmare. Ciera insisted on going to the game straight from her grandmother's wake. The first half was painful. It hurt me to watch it. Two minutes into the 2nd half she was benched...for the first time EVER. Rightfully, I admit. It was tough though. It was bound to happen. She's been playing keeper for 3 years now and it was inevitable. I hope tonight is better. We start outdoor again in 2 weeks. It's much better for me. Indoor soccer is just so fast and leaves little room for error.

I have this problem. This whole online classes thing is severely cutting into my blogging and internet porn time. I'm none too happy about this and thinking I may have to do some rescheduling.

Does everyone have one of those siblings that tries to cryptically give you guilt trips? I have one and she drives me fucking nuts. Every conversation goes something like this:

Me: So..I guess it's going to snow today.

Her: Yeah. I saw that. Of course, it might as well snow everyday for me. It's not like I really have someone to keep me warm anytime.

Me: (ignoring last comment) Are you going to the soccer game tonight?

Her: Well, I'd like to but I have all this work to do and then I really need to clean my room. Of course, since I don't really have anything else to do with anyone I've spent a lot of time cleaning my room lately.

Me: (ignoring last comment) Have you talked to Mom lately? I tried to call her a couple of times yesterday but never got her.

Her: No. I really don't talk to her much lately. I guess since I already have a degree, she doesn't really have much time for me these days. I called her last week but when I asked what she was doing, she said she was putting up all the breakables because Edie was coming over so you could finish up some homework. I figured that must have really been taking up her time, so I just told her I'd call her another time.

Me: (ignoring last comment but getting irritated) Hmmm. So anything exciting going on?

Her: No. I'm thinking of just transferring to another state. I don't think anyone would really notice. At least then everyone might be happy to see me if it was only a couple times a year.

Me: So..I guess it's going to snow today.

As you read this conversation, you may be tempted to add in a whiny voice or sarcastic overtone. Don't. All of the above guilt trip is given via the normal-everyday-please pass the ketchup kind of delivery. I always have this dazed and violated feeling when I finish talking to her. It's not like this is the kind of conversation we have on a bad day. This is the kind of conversation we have EVERY day.

If I Have to Live in this Soap Opera, Somebody Better Damn Sure Write Me a Make-Out Scene with the Leading Man

2005-01-26T19:37:00.000-08:00

Shit!! It's like I'm in a parallel dimension. Everyone's pissed at someone. Sisters hating sisters. Friends hating friends. Friends hating sisters. Exes hating friends. Friends hating exes. Exes hating sisters friends....you get the idea. And the damnedest part of all...I've got no one to hate. I'm going nuts. All I can say is this: In 7 weeks I will be sitting in a big ass vacation house with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other.....enjoying the hot tub, daring someone to go jump in the lake. And I really don't give a fuck WHO is there with me or who jumps in the lake.

Death and Government

2005-01-20T20:27:00.000-08:00

Ugh. It's been a bad week. Jeremy's (ex-husband) grandmother died Tuesday evening. She is the woman that raised him. It's a sad, long story that I don't have the energy to recant at the moment. A vicious cycle of bad parenting and grandparenting that ultimately led to our divorce. He loved her very much. And so did my girls. It was a long battle with cancer. The end was very much expected but still excruciating for them. It's heart-wrenching to see your children in that kind of pain. The kind of pain that you can't fix with a kiss or a band-aid or even stitches. It's hard to look at their swollen faces and bloodshot eyes and tell them that everything will be ok. Children always do opposite of what you expect. Avery is my sensitive one. I thought she would be devastated. She was...for a few hours. Then she drew some pictures of her G.G and wrote a song and found solace. Ciera is taking it much harder. I guess because she's older and thinks deeper. It makes me very sad. So I did the one thing I knew to do....we went and got haircuts and new clothes. It helped. It makes me wonder if there is something innate about shopping....built into the female chemistry. Ciera says she will still play in her soccer game tomorrow after the funeral. She says her G.G. will finally not be too sick to see her play.

I HATE this government professor. I know that I should probably not jump to that conclusion so early in the semester. Especially since I've never even met him face to face, but I have jumped. I know when I write an "A" paper. There have been occasions that I just wasn't up to it and intentionally wrote a "B" paper. I'm not trying to brag, but I can hold my own when writing a paper. And with the miracles of Spell and Grammar Check...how could I go wrong? So when I questioned my professor as to why he didn't find my writing worthy of an "A", here is a clip from his response:
one last point. I might be guilty of grading someone a little more harshly, if there are some indicators in their writing that they have real promise, than I might grade someone that has no writing aptitude at all, especially in the first writing assignment. This probably isn't fair, but subconsciously, I think every faculty does it to some extent.
Aside from the GLARING gramattical errors, I find this unsettling. Maybe I'm just pissed because he wouldn't give me the "A."

Bitch Session in Progress: Please Turn Off Your Cell Phone and Use Your Inside Voice

2005-01-11T20:36:00.000-08:00

I'll just go by topic. Find one that interests you and feel free to join.

Ex-husbands: Ok, First: My oldest child "became a woman" this weekend during her stay with her father. I received a phone call from the daddy and to his credit he was actually able to somewhat mask the near-hysteria in his voice. Seems that she "started her thing" and the wife was away and he didn't know what to do.
"Well, Jeremy, is she ok?"
"I don't know, Holly, she's in the bedroom."
"Did you give her a pad or something?"
"No! I already told you I didn't know what to do! I've been trying to reach you for an hour!"
"Nice. Let me talk to her."
"Avery!!! Come get the phone and take it to your sister." (Like she has the plague or something.)
Long story short...she was fine and able to handle it on her own.

Ex-husbands (still): It's soccer registration time again. I pay all of the monthly dues (year round) for Ciera to play competitive AND this month I have to pay an extra $45 for the indoor season. I asked Jeremy to make sure he gets Avery registered for spring season ($35) and he says he'll have to see what he can do. Ok, asshole, I pay $600 a year for registrations, dues, and equipment. Surely you can find a fucking way to swing the $35 twice a year. Or, if you want, just pay me the $4000 that you owe me and we'll call it even.

12 year old menstrual issues: Ok...I'm proud that my daughter is growing up. I feel bad that she has to join the ranks. I want her to be comfortable and confident and all those things. I have been the perfect picture of supportive and sensitive. But really...don't ask me one more fucking time in 30 minutes if I think you should change that thing!!!! Of course I will smile and say all of the appropriate things but in my head I am thinking of locking you in the bathroom with a year's supply of sanitary items and making you stay there until they're gone.

Unethical, bastard business owners: The deep-freeze that we had last week resulted in a broken window in my husband's truck. We spent the better part of a morning locating someone that wanted to bring their mobile service to his place of employment in the bitter cold to fix it. The man that we settled on came there the next day and happily replaced the glass for a small sum of $150. My husband was warm and dry and we were all happy. Two days later, Ken gets in the truck, closes the door and the fucking thing shatters into a million pieces. We call the said bastard and politely explain that the glass must have been defective or perhaps the installer overlooked some small detail that resulted in the freak breakage. He politely told us that we could shove it up our collective ass because he doesn't do faulty work and maybe if we tried closing the door a little easier it wouldn't have happened.

Asshole professors: Ok...I shouldn't have waited. I shouldn't have taken the government class online. There are probably many things I could have done to avoid taking this class at this time. Still...I think that there has been and continues to be plenty of information written about this lovely system that we call a democracy. Is it seriously necessary for me to write 15 two to three page essays and a 10 page paper about the shit?? AND if you're going to make me do that, is it seriously necessary for me to take a mid-term AND final AND weekly quizzes?? And is it really necessary to have that whole plagiarism lecture on your site? How can I really avoid it when you want me to write that much shit about something that so much shit has been written about already??

Mothers: Ok...some people are happy being under-achievers. I may lean slightly toward the over-achiever side. That may annoy the hell out of you. Don't try to talk me out of success. No, I don't think that 16 hours is more than I can handle. No, I don't think I'll be the crazy one by the time I get a psychology degree EVEN if I do continue at "this rate." My exact words to her: "You should quit bitching and just be grateful that I'm paying for it instead of you."

Parent-teacher conferences: I always get the note that says my children are doing great in school and a conference is not necessary. So why, then, must I suffer through the day out of school because other people have children that are not doing so great? And why do parent-teacher conferences have to take place on the Friday before MLK day when they really don't need the 4 day weekend. They were just out of school for 17 fucking days in a row. They've only been back for 9!! Come on...throw me a bone here.

Ok...I feel better. Please remember to fill out the survey and drop it in the box by the door. We are always trying to improve these sessions to better meet your needs.

Whiskey Dreams and Sad Little Victories

2005-01-09T20:29:00.000-08:00

So, wow. It's been a while. Holidays are always such a whirlwind. I dread them when they're coming and always somewhat regret when they're gone. Aside from presents that I didn't ask for and hangovers that I did ask for, it wasn't so bad. Many days of children at this grandma's or that. Many nights stumbling into bed. It's a life that really isn't mine anymore but one that is so comfortable I can't help but climb back into.

Christmas night: Back in that hole in the wall bar that I hate. Lots of drunken cowboys and bad karaoke. A surprise this night though. A flash from the past. The boy from high school that everyone loved. The boys always wanted to be like him. The girls always wanted to be with him. I had my days in his sun. A few short weeks that high school made seem like a lifetime. He looked like shit. Life has been hard on him. Still the same boy. With his 22 year old girlfriend. I befriended her. She liked me. She hates being in his shadow here she says. It wasn't like this in Oregon she says. I can't see that he casts such a shadow anymore. Still it must be sad for her. There was a victory though. He was happy to see me. Said I looked fabulous. He had hoped to run into me soon. Trying the whole night to tell me, show me when she turned away. Still the same boy. A sad victory, I know. But a victory nonetheless. The local sheriff pulled my ex-brother-in-law over on the way home. In the Christmas spirit he sent us on our way. Possibly to our deaths, but it was Christmas and it was a nice gesture.
I did a drown night at one of the college bars in Tulsa. Damn that's been a long time and now I remember why. Or maybe it's better to say I remember part of why. A couple of ladies nights in places where there were no "ladies" in sight. I told lots of stories. How did they put it? Oh.."Holly was in rare form last night." My phone rang often. Too many times I let them talk me into getting out of bed and into the car to meet them. I've never been one to turn away the masses, you know. My husband is never comfortable when I am that person. He's angry and doesn't know why. He's lonely and doesn't know why. It's funny. It's that person that he fell in love with. That person is the one he married.

New Year's Eve: After the Christmas/sheriff incident, I didn't want to venture south of this little town. I drove the mile and a half to my ex-brother-in-law's house. It was an odd collection of old friends. Me, my husband, one of my sisters, one of my ex-brother-in-laws (with a different sister), Jill's ex-husband, his cousin, his friend. Later Chase came. The ex-brother-in-law went to jail. We told him not to drive to the bar. We fully understood that it was only half a mile and that it was only for half an hour. We tried to make him understand that he had already been pardoned by fate just one week ago. He didn't listen. And all of his daddy's ex-mayoral political power yielded nothing. Well...they didn't impound his truck. We stayed and partied. Chase cooked some Chase concoction. Nobody ate it. Not even Chase this time. Maybe he has changed after all. It seemed like he was gone as quickly as he arrived. I wish I had been able to spend a little more time. Pay a little more attention.
There are many more stories. I'll try to get to them after a few days of this rambling. I think I'm ready to leave the life that's not mine anymore behind for a little bit. Maybe till summer. Maybe just until spring. It was warm and cozy there.

Coming Soon

2005-01-07T18:22:00.000-08:00

Holly Returns

Can You Bring Me Another Bud Light Please?

2004-12-24T23:05:00.000-08:00

So..it's Christmas Eve. I've avoided by blog obsession for many days now. I'm convinced that I'm not an addict or a stalker...so I'm back. I've spent $650 on people that are not my husband or children and I'm gonna be honest here...I'm not sure that I'm happy with the return. I know..I know..it's not about getting, it's about giving. Whatfuckingever. I have gotten 2 pairs of Nike's (who needs 2 pairs?), a perfume gift set, $40 worth of OPI nail shit, and 3 bottles of Victoria's Secret lotion. Obviously nobody really cared when I asked for liquor and sex toys. Why even ask? Hmmmm..maybe next year.

I've missed you all very much and will be back tomorrow to update the list. I have to go to the in-law's. Considering they spend 4 of 7 days a week in church, I'm sure it will be much more disappointing than the $100 gift card Visa that my mother-in-law is getting. You can never have too many bibles collecting dust on the bookshelf. But that's ok...it's all about giving.

Congratulations to my very best friend. I know I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but just so you know....Jill is expecting!!!!!!! Totally ruined my last girl's night out, but....yayyyyyy!!! I'm so happy. I can't wait to start buying diapers!

Merry, merry Christmas to all of my blogging friends that I am sure would give me sex toys and liquor if we were close enough that I was on your list.

Let the Drinking of Alcoholic Beverages and General Foolishness Begin

2004-12-17T07:01:00.000-08:00

Winter break has arrived. My last night of class was last night and the girls finish school today. I love this break because there are so many people that the girls want to stay with and plenty of time to do so. Not that I don't love my children dearly. It just seems to get a little oppressive when you're a stay-at-home mom. And all of those moms that try to pretend that it is the most wonderful job on earth and they can't imagine why it would ever be frustrating or oppressive....those are the women that are taking their kid's ADD medication with a vodka chaser every morning.

I'm not trying to be a Grinch or deny Jill any Christmas spirit or anything, but...I f'in hate Christmas shopping! Hate it. People are crazy, traffic is insane. Every time I have been out thinking that I would do some shopping, I quit after an hour or so.

Why is Cloe the only Bratz doll that I can't find when it is the only one that I need? I think there is something wrong with the fact that ONLY the blonde one seems to be in such high demand. What about Yasmine? Red hair is cool...and she's got the name.

Any ideas for a new drink for me? I need a new one. I haven't been doing mixed drinks for a while now. I had a margarita phase and last year was a crown and coke phase. I think I need something fruity and fun. I've never really had a fruity and fun phase.

I got mad at my husband a couple of nights ago for....being my husband basically. I told him that I feel like I live in an intellectual abyss. He just looked at me like he had no clue. I said, "Exactly."

What age is appropriate for mascara?

Wow...I'm really random today. I just have that "feeling." I'm all giddy and fidgety. I'm happy that it's Friday. I'm happy that I'm so fuckin' smart. I'm happy about lots of stuff today. Amazing.

Proverbial Thump on the Head

2004-12-14T11:31:00.000-08:00

I feel the need to bitch about the stupidity that sometimes runs rampant in this world by pointing out a few idiots today:

Scott Peterson--got himself the death penalty for a little "strange." Dumbass.

Top story on local news in the heartland yesterday: Local idiot got himself killed when a homeowner woke to find said idiot breaking into the phone box outside his house. Homeowner fires shotgun through wall of house as homeowner's wife simultaneously fires at suspect out the window of house. Both struck the suspect who subsequently died because Mr. and Mrs. NRA had to drive down to next home to use the phone to call for medical attention because said idiot had cut phone lines.

The construction guy who forgot to drain the hose to the water truck when the forecasted low temp was 20 degrees: On my way to take the girls to school there were 6 ass-cracks huddled around the large rubber hose beating it with sledge hammers, presumably, to break up the ice. On the way home: water gushing from hose that was broken by sledge hammering ass-cracks. (I'm sure that will add a month to projected completion date.)

Then there are the people that may have seemed like idiots at first glance but when you think about it....

The Romanian Prime Minister is offering to sleep with the wives and girlfriends of journalists on a Romanian newspaper to stop them claiming he is gay.

2004-12-13T08:27:00.000-08:00

Edie's first real Halloween. She INSISTED on the dragon.

Almost Naked Ass Scratching

2004-12-13T06:53:00.000-08:00

The following searches brought victims to my blog lair this weekend:
girls almost but not naked
naked girls
the girl code
girls with nice bums (Canada)
girls periods pics
jericmiller

My favorite: "girls almost but not naked." There's something very comforting about that search.

There are men doing construction on the highway near my home. Lots of construction. They are building a new highway. Most days I don't even notice them anymore. They've been there for ages. This morning was quite a different story. I was taking the girls to school as always. There was a youngish man standing in the middle of what is now the old highway, waiting for a random dump truck to come along so he can direct traffic. I pulled up to the railroad tracks and made the necessary stop. As I looked ahead to cross to the new highway, the youngish man caught my eye. As well as Ciera's. This man had his ARM down the back of his pants scratching his ass. Not his hand. Not in the waistband of his pants. His ENTIRE arm down to the bottom of his ass. My not so subtle 12 year old loudly proclaims, "Oh...MY....GOD!" Not just to me, but literally to God. So the youngish man stands there with his deer-in-the-headlights look watching Ciera incredulously vocalize her amazement that a grown man is standing in public with his arm down the back of his pants digging at his ass. He couldn't hear her. That was the best part. He could only see the words as they formed in ultra-slow motion. He immediately yanked out said arm and turned around to check for oncoming dump trucks. No further eye contact. It was so freaking funny. And the best part....I got to drive back by him about 10 minutes later.

Reality Check

2004-12-10T11:13:00.000-08:00

Ring, Ring

Me:Hello

Mom:Oh, Hey! Your main phone line is working again!

Me: Yes, Mother. You called me on it yesterday and the day before.

Mom: Well, when I called those 2 times, I tried to call your computer line first and it was busy so THEN I called your main line to get you. Today, I just called your main line first.

Me: Huh? Mom, can you call me back in like 10 minutes?

I just had to put this on my blog to make sure that it was a real conversation and I'm not going insane. So...if the phone rings in 10 minutes I guess I will know that this really is my reality.

Waxing Philosophical Floors in the Building that Houses My Life

2004-12-09T11:10:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning from another dream that keeps me thinking all day long. I'm realizing that I live my life as if the jury is still out. You can read the title of my blog and know that. It's no real secret, I guess. I look back on decisions I've made and believe that, even if they were wrong, I possess the power to reverse them. Maybe that's confidence, maybe it's denial. There are some permanent things in life...I realize that. The way you love your children, inherent desires and needs. If there is such a thing as destiny, such a thing as fate, isn't it just an ultimate culmination of your own choices? I believe I can change things because I have to believe it.

On Tuesday night, I dreamt about someone I rarely dream about. Someone who's place in my mind is purposefully more conscious. Someone who's place in my life is purposefully less concrete. It reminded me of feelings that are always kept at bay and history that always repeats itself. And I wonder if I'm only fooling myself. Those feelings kept at bay...aren't they concrete? If they're always there, they must be subconscious as well. Have I invented a private reality only to keep it from my public reality? I know my feelings are real...in the back of my mind, behind my heart, they're real. Is it only because there was never closure? Was there never closure because there was never really a beginning? Have I schemed, subconsciously..unconsciously, to prevent closure? And does it hold me back or inspire me? Am I dawdling in the sunlight of what-once-was? And what was that sunlight? Was there ever a what-once-was? These are the reasons that I need one of those moments-into-hours of heartfelt exchanges about life and love and fear. And all of the reasons that I don't.

By the way...I was thinking of the way that everyone signs and addresses others with initials lately. It seems so impersonally personal. I think I'll start signing: H to the O to the L-L-Y.

Right Leg, Left Leg..ZZZIIIIPPPP

2004-12-07T07:01:00.000-08:00

I'm in a rut. Not a really deep, muddy one. Just a rut. Nothing exciting is happening in my life. Some will say that boring is good. Some will say that an even keel is peaceful. I say, "Where's the fuckin' action?" It's the season, I'm sure. I get into this pattern of sending children to school, attending to the needs of the little one, making dinner, Christmas shopping. One day blurs into the next. I can't remember what day I made chicken because it was the exact same day that I made spaghetti and that was the exact same day that I made pizza. I want to make chicken on the day that I saw the crazy ladies duke it out over the last Bratz doll in Wal-Mart. And have pizza on the day that a naked man was running down the highway in a santa hat. Then I could remember what to make for dinner tonight.

Harder, Harder...Spank Me

2004-12-05T23:40:00.000-08:00

I just thought I would try to satisfy the googler who obviously thinks that:
daughter spanked OR spank OR spanking -monkey -secretary -brand -joannie -sex site:blogspot.com
will find something interesting to read and then gets stuck reading my blog. I not only wonder how this google search brought someone to my blog, but what exactly this google searcher was trying to find. Is Joannie the secretary spanking his monkey daughter and he wants to see if she brags about it on her blogspot.com sex site? Many combinations have crossed my mind. Either way...I'm happy to have you, honey..because I am a slut for attention. Feel free to leave a comment or request next time you drop by.

Pull Your Red-Hatted Head Out of Your Eccentric Ass

2004-12-02T09:43:00.000-08:00

My mother has this really annoying habit (well, she has many..I'll just speak of one of them today) of attaching herself to random words and devising ways to steer conversations toward the particular word. Each obsession may last a few days up to a few months. Some of her previous fixations have included ergonomic, multi-tasking, authentic...you get the idea. Everyday words that generally have no real intrigue or appeal, just minding their own business...my mother will jump on and ride them until they are dead. When it was ergonomic, she purchased all kinds of new ergonomic equipment. When it was multi-tasking, she would walk around with a headset attached to her phone and a pen behind her ear while doing the dishes or writing emails. So..anyway, for the past couple of weeks her word has been eccentric. She uses it mostly in thinly veiled references to herself, sometimes when referring to people that she considers to be interesting. I've been trying to ignore it as much as possible but last night she got tired of that. Excerpt from telephone conversation at 1 am this morning:

Mom: Have you ever heard of the red-hat society.
Me: Ummm, no.
Mom: Well..there's this lady and she wrote a poem about how when she got old she wanted to wear purple clothes and a red hat. It was a really beautiful poem and so many women were touched by it that they began establishing Red Hat Society Chapters around the country. If you are of a certain age, nearing your senior years, you get together with your friends and wear red hats and purple clothes and hang out. If you're not quite old enough yet, you have to wear a pink hat and lavender clothes. The best part is that you don't just wear any red hat. It has to be a big, gaudy red hat. Doesn't that sound cool?
Me: Do they go to the bar in the red hats and purple clothes?
Mom: I don't think so but I guess they could if they wanted to.
Me: It might be ok if they were going to get drunk. Other than that, I'm not sure I would use the word "cool" to describe it.
Mom: Oh Holly, that's just because you don't want your mother to be considered "old" because you might have to face the fact that you're getting up there yourself.
Me: You could be right, Mom. Maybe I'm totally distraught about being 31 years old, in the prime of my life, and can't admit that my mother is 16 years from being a senior citizen. (For all of you doing the math...she's 49.)
Mom: *laughs*Just face it, Holly. Your mother is ECCENTRIC. You're just going to have to deal with it. At least now you know what to get me for Christmas. But don't get me one with all of the netting or anything. I really want one with a big, wide, floppy brim. I really like those.

It was an "eso es" moment for me. (How do you like those Spanish skills?) I had to listen to all of this red hat bullshit so that she could get around to being eccentric. Ugh...this is an actual chapter from my life. Does anyone else find this disturbing?

I've never been one to work out but I have a new obsession: stripaerobics. I saw Teri Hatcher on Oprah a couple of weeks ago. Of course she looked amazing. She did a little demonstration of what she's learned in this stripper class that is also her only work out program at the moment. I told my husband. He said, "Well, why, who are you going to strip for?" Again...does anyone find my life disturbing?

Thank you for stopping by, Chase. I'm glad you found a way to overcome your computer illiteracy to accomodate me. One of the many reasons that I love you so.

Not-So-Girls Night Out

2004-11-30T09:52:00.000-08:00

So...Last Wednesday we decided to do something we haven't done in a while--Girls night out. Except there was the whole breaking- the girl-code-in-an-over-the-top-manner issue going on. Jill, being as forgiving as she is (and really wanting to get drunk), was willing to overlook the indiscretion. Unfortunately, some people get really drunk and dig their hole even deeper. As if the mood was not dampened enough, my husband was, of course, pouring water on by the bucketful. You'd think that a man would understand that girls night is GIRLS night. He didn't want to leave the bar but had no choice when all of my girls started telling him how irritating it was that he was ruining their girls night. He left begrudgingly. Took almost all of my cash and headed to the strip bar. You'd think most husbands would be thrilled with the "compromise" of not hanging out with the girls to go watch naked women. Flash forward about one hour. In the door walks my husband. And again he didn't want to leave. Again there were hateful glances and not-so-kind reminders from the girls. Again, he left begrudgingly. It was embarrassing to say the least and irritating as hell. I just don't get it.

Regarding you, Jill: You were so in the right about all of that. I wouldn't have done what I did if I thought any other way. I just hope that she gets it and, moreover, he gets it. So...girls night out next Wednesday?

On the bright side...I wrapped up my 4.0 for this semester. Not a single average below 96%. Those who know me know this was the 2nd most important thing in my life for the last 4 months. Celebrating will commence Dec. 22nd. Email invitations to follow.

Back in the Saddle

2004-11-29T14:34:00.000-08:00

What a dreadful weekend! I've been all stuffy and chilly and coughing up unidentified substances. It seems to be over now though. I woke up this morning and can actually breathe. I wandered through the 6 more loads of laundry that piled up while I was sick and made it to the shower. I familiarized myself with the hair dryer. I'm well on my way back to what once was. And not a moment too late. I have class tonight and will probably post afterward. I have so much to talk about but not enough time now. Just wanted to go back to normal things for a moment. *Note to self: Post about Wednesday night.

2004-11-24T13:42:00.000-08:00

You're a hardworking individual enshrouded by an overwhelming sense of mystery, beauty, and intrigue. Though always on the go, you keep focused, helping -- often rapturing -- those you meet.

Take the What Pulp Fiction Character Are You? quiz.

If You Only Remember One, Remember This One

2004-11-23T11:52:00.000-08:00

I hate when something happens and pushes me into that "what am I doing here?" mode. Especially when it's something little. I shouldn't be so pissed, but I am. And I want to be. I don't need anyone else to define my boundaries, my values, my responsibilities. The adjective is "my" for a reason. You shouldn't sit on your high horse looking down when you've forgotten about the pile of discarded values and responsibilities you've climbed to reach that horse. I KNOW what I am. And, yes, I know that I am only the sum of what others perceive me to be. But you are not "others." You are barely you. Do you KNOW what you are? Do you even know how others perceive you? Why are you afraid to say that you were attracted to my intelligence or my confidence? What are you afraid that I might gain? I'm glad you liked my smile, but didn't you eventually look behind it? You know what responsible grown-ups do. Tell me, isn't that a grown-up thing? Shouldn't you look past the cover and read the book? There was a time that you loved my intuition. Didn't you know that it would come to include you? Didn't you know that I would know your thoughts before you thought them? Don't criticize me for being everything that I promised I would be.

There's Nothing Like a Meat Shower

Finally...a day that I've accomplished something. The holiday season just wears me out. I've chauffered, cleaned, shopped, and remitted appropriate payments. I've made calls, returned calls and waited for calls to be returned. I've written and read emails. I've read books, eaten fake fried eggs and fed Care Bears. I'd say it's been a pretty good day.

I read a joke today that really kind of sums up my frame of mind. I thought a few of you might enjoy it too:

Three mice are sitting in a bar in a pretty rough neighborhood late at night trying to impress each other about how tough they are. The first mouse slams a shot of scotch, and pounds the shot glass to the bar, turns to the second mouse and says: "When I see a mousetrap, I get on it, lie on my back, and set it off with my foot. When the bar comes down, I catch it in my teeth, and then bench press it 100 times."

The second mouse orders up two shots of tequila. He grabs one in each paw, slams the shots, and pounds the glasses to the bar. He turns to the other mice and replies: "Yeah, well when I see rat poison, I collect as much as I can and take it home. In the morning, I grind it up into a powder and put it in my coffee so I get a good buzz going for the rest of the day."

The first mouse and the second mouse then turn to the third mouse. The third mouse lets out a long sigh and says to the first two, "I don't have time for this bullshit. I gotta go home and fuck the cat."

Titleless

2004-11-19T21:35:00.000-08:00

I finished up my dental work today. Well, I didn't finish it. The dentist did. My last wisdom tooth finally came out. I've always wondered about wisdom teeth. Why do they call them wisdom teeth? This is obviously a question I need to pose to Google. Speaking of Google...my cousin was telling me of some google game where you enter two random words for a google search in hopes of returning only one hit. I can't do it.

2004-11-17T17:41:00.000-08:00

I would have given you everything but you were young and greedy and needy and, when I turned my head, you stole it anyway. I would have accepted your offering but I was young and greedy and needy and I was waiting for you to put it in a prettier box with a tighter bow. I didn't get younger. I got older and more clever. I learned to rearrange the letters of content to spell happy. I didn't get greedier. I learned to gamble with what I had and broke even. I redefined my needs and swallowed hard until my wants disappeared.

And now--now I'm older....rearranged....broken....swallowing hard. Needing you. More and more and more of you.

**Don't ask....lots and lots of words swimming around in my head. I had to get them out**

I Feel Like A Mule Kicked Me In The Chest

2004-11-15T20:52:00.000-08:00

That's the first thing my grandpa said when they took him off the ventilator following bypass surgery. Turned out to only be a quadruple.

Grandma is absolutely sure he's going to start bitching endlessly at any moment. I told her she'd bitch too if they sliced her open from chest to navel, yanked a vein out of each leg, tied them to her heart and stapled it all back up again. She seemed to understand that.

I'm so drained. I feel like I'm on a carousel and can only catch a glimpse of something as I pass by. I try really hard to make sure I look at it again on the next pass...hoping I'll see a little more detail. I can't though because that guy with the cotton candy walked right in my way.

Focus, Focus, Focus...Hmmm, Do I Smell Chicken?

2004-11-14T14:13:00.000-08:00

Do you think there's such a thing as adult-onset ADD? I think I have it. There are soooo many things that I would rather do than summarize and analyze "Race, Rape, and Radicalism: The Case of the Martinsville Seven, 1949-1951." I'm trying so hard to focus as I have a 4 page paper due tomorrow. I've read...oh..2 of 30 pages of the article.

My mom always says, "It will all come out in the wash." She's right. Ciera is home with me this weekend after all and says she's never going back to her father's house again. I'm in the midst of a mom-moral dilemma. Ciera received numerous birthday card wishes with cash included. There was approximately $70. Her stepmother confiscated the $25 check from Ciera's great grandmother and said it would be used to reimburse Jeremy and herself for the co-pay on Avery's staples. (They didn't even pay their full portion of that.) The step-mother then informed Ciera that she was not allowed to keep the rest of the money (cash) to bring home. She must spend it while in their home and all items purchased and not consumed would remain there. My daughter with her new 12-year-old independence was hearing none of that. She secretly placed the money in her jacket pocket and headed out to the soccer game with the rest of the family. Once there, she ran into my sister and decided that she would like to go spend the rest of the day with her. After a phone call to me to acquire permission, she went back to the van to gather her personal effects. There she finds her step-mother "watching the game" from the van. At this point the step-mother sees the cash in question peeking out of Ciera's pocket and demands possession of it. The following conversation ensues:

"Ciera, give me that money."

"No."

"Ciera, I said give me the money now."

"No, it's mine."

"I don't care if it's yours, give it to me now!"

"Nope. Bye." (Door closes...Ciera runs off to watch her cousin's game.)

This is of course followed by the step-mother exiting said van to inform father of dastardly behavior. Father waits for younger daughter's game to be over and approaches oldest daughter with the following conversation:

(Grabs Ciera's arm) "Hand it over!"

"I don't have it." (Ciera has solicited Annie's assistance in stashing the cash)

"Where is it?"

"It's mine."

"Well, you flat out told your step-mother 'No'."

"Well, it's my money."

"Fine. I'll remember this. Avery, give me a kiss."

Lots of drama for a little bit of birthday money. I know that I can't encourage her to defy her stepmother. I know I should say she's wrong. But...damn...how much control does one grown woman really need??? I've avoided the dilemma thus far by just not saying anything. Daughter #2 did call to tell me that her father said he WILL be spanking Ciera next time he sees her. (I hope she whips his ass!)

Oh God, Oh God, Yes, Yes, Yes!

2004-11-12T09:58:00.000-08:00

I finally had some private time this morning. Wow...did I need that!! Edie stayed with Annie last night. I took the girls to school. I thought all the way there and all the way back about doing some homework or housework. All the while, I knew in the back of my head that niether of those was on the top of the priority list. So...long story short...I feel MUCH better today! I'm sitting here thinking about doing my hair and make-up for no good reason. I wonder if my long black skirt still fits. Ooh..I better not wonder that for long...I'll be depressed again.

I've been feeling a little bitchy. Well, very bitchy. I'm not sure why, but I'm trying to keep it on the down low. It's probably all this crappy weather. I hate cold and I hate rain. Extended periods of it anyway.

I know that most of my regular readers have children of their own. Do you guys think that I should INSIST that my daughter go to her father's house? She's just turned 12. She hates his wife (and I really don't blame her.) She has recently been arguing about going with him. If I thought that it was a healthy place to be I wouldn't think twice about sending her. I just don't think it is though. He and his wife fight all the time. His wife screams and yells at them. She bad-mouths me. She has NEVER in 5 years told them that she loved them or even hugged them. (His excuse for this is that she is trying to give them their space. She doesn't want to force anything on them.) It's been FIVE years since they married!! I'm having a hard time with this one.

Life, Menstrual and Relationship Cycles

2004-11-09T23:11:00.000-08:00

My grandfather requires a quintuple bypass. It will be done Monday. The family drama has already begun. Drug addicted aunt vs. personality disorder inflicted aunt vs. my mother. It will be an interesting holiday season.

I started. Thank the Lord. The PMS was way bigger than I this month.

Ken and I are back on the upswing. Maybe because he's afraid of the PMS. I'm not sure why.

Avery got in the car today after school. She was about to burst. Literally. She jumped in and the words were flying faster than she could form thoughts. Her smile was so large that it distorted the words she was trying to say. Turns out that "they" think she might be gifted and she "needs" me to sign the letter to allow the testing. I've never seen her so excited. I hate this moment. She is very smart. But what if she doesn't "pass" the test. What will the devastation be?

It's a Girl Thing.

2004-11-08T13:56:00.000-08:00

Girls have a code. Nobody every really told us. We just know. You don't fuck with your friend's/sister's/enemy's man or ex-man unless you want trouble. It doesn't matter how many years or how much turmoil constitutes the "ex". Men may try to convince us that the code is archaic, but as girls we are bound to honor the code. Maybe I'm paranoid; maybe I'm pre-menstrual; maybe I'm just overly sensitive, but I seemed to have witnessed numerous accounts of code oblivion this weekend. My sisters and I are close..we spend a lot of time together. Jill and I are closer. We spend as much time as we can together. This is not a new thing. We were all raised together. We have functioned under the laws of the code for 20 years now. I thank you Jill for standing up for me. I don't care if I'm married 6 more times before I die. There are just some people that my sisters should not be calling for rescue. If you were to call those same people for rescue, I would be assured that there would be no previously-determined sexual agenda involved and therefore...you would not be breaking the code. I hope you feel the same about me and certain men of yesteryear. I don't think that one (or several) of us is operating under the code when they are blatantly offering conversation and media that seems to be implying that they "have" or "had" or "could have" something that rightfully belongs to another according to the girl rules. Am I right?

No, That's Not a Branch. It's a Walking Stick.

2004-11-04T21:12:00.000-08:00

I used to be a chameleon. Not in the lizardly sense. I used to adapt to everyone's world. Not because I'm fake. Because that's WHO I am. I'm a communicator. I talk to people and listen to people. It never mattered if it was the old man in the donut shop or the doctor at a cocktail party. That's WHO I am. But tonight...I realized...I've lost a piece of me. I was standing in a circle of small talk and *poof* there was no light-hearted banter spewing from my mouth. I couldn't even feign the little "you're oh so amusing" chuckle. I was blank. And on the way home I thought about it. You know what? I don't think I remember how to make smoky eyes with my eye shadow. I'm not sure that I know what to do with smoky eyes. I can't always remember what womanly wiles are and why one would use them. My voice mail greeting doesn't have that mysteriously sexy aura. I can't tell you the name of my girlfriends' highlights. I'm scared to death that my soulmate might call me up and actually expect me to say something insightful. Where is that damned piece of me? I need it back. It's my favorite part.

2004-11-03T17:45:00.000-08:00

Eden..My Own Little Utopia

2004-11-03T17:43:00.000-08:00

Daughter Number One...Best Friend, Biggest Foe

FORE!!!!!!!!

2004-11-03T14:17:00.000-08:00

I've conquered the links and moved on to the pics. To be fair, I guess I should post pics of the other 2. I'll get to that....after dinner.

2004-11-03T14:16:00.000-08:00

My beautiful middle child

HTML...The Romantic Language

2004-11-03T11:10:00.000-08:00

I might barely be able to learn Spanish, but I promise you this: I am an HTML genius. Ok..maybe not a genius. Still..check out the favorite link thing I did on the sidebar. I believe it to be quite impressive.

I finally got some good sex last night. I tried to make it last as long as possible considering it may be a few more weeks. It was nice, multiple-orgasm, hair-pulling, nasty-words kind of entertainment. I'll try not to bitch about the lack of "it" for a while. (I'm still, however, suffering from the apathy.)

I think I need a nice bottle of Pinot Grigio, some illegal tobacco-like product, a new outfit and a cabana boy with a suitcase full of sexually-oriented entertainment. Know where I can find a place like that?

3...2...1...You're On!

2004-11-03T00:41:00.000-08:00

I have to let you know...my Brokawesque fantasies have shifted toward Ratheresque tendencies. I forgot how damn funny he is with his, "Just because a chicken has wings doesn't mean it flies," analogies. I freakin' love election drama.

Vote, Vote, Vote

2004-11-02T11:18:00.000-08:00

I wanted to make sure and do my good deed for the day. If you've happened upon my blog by accident, please stop reading now and go vote if you're qualified. There's really nothing here that won't turn your brain into soup anyway. For all others that read my blog regularly, thanks for voting except those of you who aren't registered...and you know who you are. I'm voting when I pick up the girls from school. Two reasons: 1) I think my children should observe democracy in progress. 2) The polling location is next to the school. Mostly the 2nd, but..you know.
I'm excited about class tonight. I'm turning in my rough draft. Of course, I'm totally paranoid that she has some psychological secret and will know that my "Dream Diary" is totally concocted. I'm not sure that it's legal to put my real dreams in print. You know..being the bible belt and all. That's not the reason I'm excited though. I'm excited because I'm sure we will only be there about 45 minutes considering it's election night. And considering she never keeps us more than an hour and a half anyway. I guess I better run and dream up a few more dreams. I only need 3 pages.

And Now I Will Pull A Rabbit Out of My Hat

2004-11-01T06:42:00.000-08:00

Ugh...once again, I have procrastinated to the ultimate degree. I have a math exam and history exam today. I have a rough draft of a 3 page psychology paper due tomorrow and a Spanish test on Thursday. And, once again, I've not done anything to prepare for any of these items. This may be a multi-post day. It will help relieve the stress. Off to study standard deviations for a bit. Wish me luck!

Who Let The Freaks Out?

2004-10-30T16:03:00.000-07:00

That's the first thing I heard when we entered the lone bar in Smallville. I was a little offended that the toothless man who lives on barstool #3 was calling ME a freak, but I was drunk and moved on. I had a blast! The costumes were hilarious. Mandy wore this battery-operated, inflatable ballerina costume. It was HILARIOUS! Melissa was a red-neck muscle man named Buck. She wore this awful padded torso that was supposed to make her look like she had muscles. She was clad in the cut-off wife-beater complete with the iron-on transfer reading "Muffdivers Class of '69" and a sweat band around her mullet wig that said "I Heart Pussy." She walked around introducing herself to everyone by saying, "Hi! My name's Buck and I'm here to fuck." You don't know how funny it was. Of course we had my costume, my sister: the pimp, my other sister: Stick man drawing, my other sister: French maid from Mardis Gras (don't ask...it just means she wore some green and purple beads and garters), Martha Stewart: incarcerated, a tap-dancing bumble bee, a slutty nun, a pregnant nun, 80's white trash girlfriend of Buck, a wizard, Jamaican bum (perpetually high), a witch and a beauty queen.
The karaoke was a good time. The strangest thing...my husband was the biggest slut in the bar last night and that's saying alot considering some of the friends I have. I wish I was pissed about it, but I'm not. I've settled into the apathetic marriage-mode. As long as he keeps paying the bills until I have my degree, I'll just deal with it then. This is quite a new feeling for me. I mean, I've never really been the jealous type but this is beyond just not being jealous. I'll have to let it float around in my head for a few days before I begin the introspective analysis.
My mother wants to keep the baby again tonight so I'm thinking maybe another night of drinking. I can't really decide. Maybe I'll go solo tonight.

Slow-Motion Spontaneous Combustion

2004-10-29T11:13:00.000-07:00

In corresponding with Jill, I have realized that I may explode without some really good sex. Or hell..any sex at all. It's funny the phases of lust that you go through over a long period of sexless time. After a couple of days, you just fantasize about long, hot baths, hot oil massages; maybe slow, wet kisses. After about 3 or 4 days, your imagination becomes slightly randier: Bend me over the bed and roughly remove my panties. After about 5 or 6 days though, you find sexual overtones in every conversation, situation, food item. You watch the news and want to get it on with Tom Brokaw. It gets really scary. Am I alone in this?

Just Quit Bitching And Do Your Thing Already

2004-10-28T12:03:00.000-07:00

I'm just in one of those moods today. Don't call me because I am going to get medieval on your ass.

I do have my costume. It's great. I'm going as a "big mama." I have these huge tits and an ass that you can set your drink on; an old lady wig with rollers and a scarf; knee-highs and house shoes; the most hideous purse complete with snot rag; and these huge old-lady glasses that are reminiscent of Elton John. My husband is going as a beauty queen complete with formal and tiara.

I finished my Spanish paper. I wrote the whole thing in 3 hours. I'm a procrastinator, but I work best under pressure. It is title "La Familia: Hispanic family culture vs. American family culture." Dr. Guido Arze will be thrilled!

Just Practicing

2004-10-26T15:10:00.000-07:00

Link to Jill's Blog:
Trying It On