i ended up here... how?

Have you done this yet?

2006-06-16T15:20:00.000-04:00

I've moved here. So go there.

Update your bookmarks!

2006-06-13T10:27:00.000-04:00

I've moved here. So go there.

Go Here Now

2006-06-12T07:10:00.000-04:00

My New Blog

http://iendedupherehow.com/blog/

What did I do??!!

2006-06-09T08:56:00.000-04:00

Sorry Happy, no movie quotes today.

I'm totally clueless. Leave it to me to jump in without thinking, doing any research...

I bought my domain name last night thru Yahoo hosting. The thing is, I have no idea how to publish it.

Joe, from Eat at Joe's (he's on the list) has very kindly offered to port my template into wordpress for me. I've imported all my posts (except this one) and started to categorize them. I've set up pages.

But I don't know how to get the site from wordpress onto the stinking web. If you go to www.iendedupherehow.com there's an under construction page up.

People talking about FTP...

I don't get it!!

Help!!

Will someone take pity on a girl, and help?

What if I say pretty please with sugar on top?

Replies

2006-06-08T18:04:00.000-04:00

Since the comments on the last post have exploded, I thought I’d answer a couple of comments here (if blogger ever lets me post again, shitty, fucking, dick, ass blogger. I’m so getting my own domain. Does anyone want to translate this template into wordpress for me? I’ll pay.)

Anyhoo…

Anonymous wrote:

What he does is abuse. It is dangerous for you and you kids to be around him. Go with your instincts. If you feel it. It is real. You don’t owe anyone anything. Yikes, I just don’t like seeing or hearing or reading about people in abusive situations. It breaks my heart. People don’t change. He wants control. All men know women dream about their weeding their whole lives. You should have what you dream of!!!

_____________________________________________________________

Hey Anonymous! We’re a friendly bunch around here. Feel free to leave your name next time.

Yes, I’m aware that I endured over 11 years of abuse from this man. The question on the table is, has he really changed? From outward appearance, and in recent dealings with me, it would seem so. He has also been told, flat out, that if I was to accept him back into my life, there is no way that I will put up with anything remotely similar to where we’ve been in the past. He assures me that is possible and would absolutely be the case.

That said, my fear is living under the same roof with him again, knowing our history. I believe it is why I am holding back so much in terms of moving forward with him. He wants me to forget the past and start fresh. I don’t know if that is possible.

_____________________________________________________________

Haley-o wrote:

Wow, I didn't realize it was that bad. You're very brave to have left and even braver, it seems, to give him another chance for the sake of your kids.

I believe writing it out is a really good tool for you--because, if you really do want to move forward, you're going to have to release the past. Writing down the past externalizes it, right? ...unbottles everything and gets it out there. Writing down the past is a way of releasing it and distancing yourself from it--so you can see it for what it really was, deal with the residual pain, and let it go. I hope that helps...

________________________________________________________________

Hey Haley! Blogger didn’t let you sign in? :) The problem is instead of releasing it, distancing myself and letting go, its brought back a lot of bad memories, negativities and concerns for the future. Can I really, even for my kids, get back together, without living in constant fear? I don’t know if I can.

_________________________________________________________________

Truthfully, after writing this, I don’t know if I want to. But, it always comes back to the same thing, the boysies. It’s not like I woke up one day and said, “Wow, I’m still in love with B. I made a mistake. I should see if he wants to get back together. (That’s what he thought I would do 4+ years ago, though. Because, according to him, I was always wrong in the decisions I made four years ago.)

No. What this boils down to is I miss my boysies. In the past 4+ years, I have spent 2+ years with them, 2+ years alone. I want to see them everyday. If there is anyway I can work it out with this man and we can cohabitate peacefully, isn’t it better for them in the long run anyway? Having both parents living under the same roof?

Fuck if I know.

That’s what therapy is for.

Flashes of the past

2006-06-07T19:41:00.000-04:00

I met B the summer of 1991 in Fire Island. The girl that ran my share house went to high school with him and introduced us one night at Flynns. By the end of the summer, we were inseparable, and we moved in together six months after that.

From the get go, B was very different from anyone I had ever dated. He wasn’t a “player;” checking over my shoulder to see what better might be coming down the pike. He was extremely attentive, wanting only to make me happy. In retrospect, it was very validating for me to have him around.

He was the first person to EVER buy me separate birthday and Hanukah gifts (the curse you live with when you’re born on Christmas… here’s your combo gift!)

The first year we were together, he was so horrified that my parents didn’t get me a birthday cake, when we got back into the city that night, he scoured Manhattan until he found me a piece of cake. No small feat on Christmas Day at 8pm. Then he made me blow out the candles.

Somewhere along the way, our relationship became one of angry words, screaming, yelling, and more. I lost my trust in him and our marriage. This didn’t happen overnight and it was present from the beginning. I glossed over it because I didn’t want it to be real. I buried it deep within my psyche.

Now, I have been instructed to unearth these things, write them down, so that I can possibly move forward, and perhaps learn to trust him again.

So, some assorted memories, not of the good variety…

We were in a car service, returning from a visit with my parents. This was at the beginning of our engagement and we were still trying to decide where the wedding was going to be. I brought up the idea of getting married in a castle, because it was something that I had always dreamed about. “Absolutely NOT!” was his immediate response. I tried to get him to listen to my point of view, but there was no changing his mind. The more I argued, the angrier he became. That was his word on the subject, now the subject was closed. By the time we got back into the city, I was in tears, and couldn’t stand the thought of being around him. I left and sat in a movie theatre, crying, for two hours. It was the realization while I was there, that I didn’t have anywhere else to go, that made me go home. When I got there, I told him fine, I’d continue to look at temples. We ended up getting married in the same kosher catering hall where he had his Bar Mitzvah party and his sister got married.

We went to Hawaii on our honeymoon, stopping first in San Francisco for 2 days. On the flight from California to Hawaii, the bottle of water I put inside the carry on bag, opened and soaked everything. B had warned me when he saw me do it, that I shouldn’t put the water in the bag because of that very reason. When he saw what had happened, he exploded. The woman sitting next to us on the flight was very concerned for my safety, and leaned over to ask me if I was okay. B then turned his wrath on her. She immediately asked to have her seat moved, rather than sit next to B. Somehow, this was my fault as well, so he screamed some more. I went for a walk by myself upon arriving at our hotel. Then I went back and apologized for putting the water bottle into the carry on.

The day I realized that I was pregnant with Little Dude we had one of our worst fights ever. Big Guy was a little over a year old, and sitting in his high chair at the time. I don’t remember what the subject matter was, but I know in this scenario, once again, according to him, I was wrong. The fight escalated, B took me and shoved me out the back door of our house. He then proceeded to lock me out. I was incredibly pissed off and decided to try and climb in thru the kitchen window. I had gotten the screen off and was starting in when he brought the window down on top of my head. In front of my son. That walk was two hours worth of me crying, wondering what am I going to do. In the end, I was pregnant. There was nothing to do but go home.

I was nursing Little Dude at the kitchen table one evening. B got very upset with me regarding a decision I had made without consulting him first. He started in with the berating of Stephanie. I decided I was not going to engage, I was nursing my son. I got up, baby in my arms, still nursing, and walked past him so that I could continue feeding my son in peace. He chased me down the hall without missing a beat, his screaming voice echoing off the walls. He didn’t stop even after I got inside Little Dude’s room and closed the door. Where I remained, crying and nursing at the same time.

Fun times.

_____________________________________________________

Question.

This is supposed to be helping me… how?

Bueller?

(Fucking blogger! I wrote this on Word at 2:30 this afternoon, and the blogger database has been down until NOW. I know this is a free service and shit, but after I write something, I usually want to POST it.)

My bitch

2006-06-06T20:31:00.000-04:00

I want to throw out a huge thank you to Blair, who was a most excellent landlord this week.

Landlord?

Wipe those confused expressions off your faces... I'll explain.

I rented Blair's blog, The Blair Bitch, through Blog Explosion this week. She was the first person to agree to rent to me, and pimped me out like the champion she is, for a week straight.

I have to say, I like this blog community thang I've discovered.

I've "met" some really cool people and discovered some really excellent blogs.

Like this one.

So go there and spread the love!

Git.

The Muppet Personality Test

2006-06-06T11:38:00.000-04:00

I had posted this before I deleted the blog, so I just took it again. Yep, I'm still Kermie. Yay.

You Are Kermit

Hi, ho! Lovable and friendly, you get along well with everyone you know.
You're a big thinker, and sometimes you over think life's problems.
Don't worry - everyone know's it's not easy being green.
Just remember, time's fun when you're having flies!

The Muppet Personality Test

You know you're vain when

2006-06-06T10:54:00.000-04:00

Even though your eyes are killing you from your allergies, you stick your contacts back in them before leaving for work, rather than wearing your glasses.

You continue to shop Banana Republic, even though you should be shopping off-price, because their vanity sizing allows you to continue to wear a size 4, even though you’ve put on a couple of pounds.

You obsess compulsively regarding these said few pounds, and how to get them the hell off your ass as quickly as possible.

You have a mirror on your desk at work so that you can continually check to make sure your hair looks okay.

Any time you pass a mirror, you must stop, at least momentarily, to check yourself out.

It's definitely not turning out to be a good Monday.

2006-06-05T10:21:00.000-04:00

My mom just told me that my dad has to go in for a biopsy for his prostate. She’s freaking out, and now, so’m I.

She told me this after I called to tell her that, because I can’t find coverage for the boysies, instead of going to Camden, Maine with them in July, I am going to have to move my vacation week to the week of June 19^th. That means no real vacation AGAIN for me this year, and that SUCKS.

Normally I could count on B for the extra coverage that we need for all the school closings and shit, but B got a new job. He has to be on the road everyday, and he no longer has an office he can bring them to. Besides the fact, that if he doesn’t go out on the road, he won’t make money.

Speaking of which, he still hasn’t reimbursed me for the boys’ expenses I laid out money for in May. He keeps telling me to be patient, but my patience is starting to wear thin. So's my bank account.

And all that really doesn't matter right now because I’m really scared about my dad.

ETA: Thanks to my friend Tabz, I now have this sign. Which fits my mood.

On top of everything else, just for the goof, the mold levels here have reached ginormous proportions, making it feel like daggers were being shoved into my eyes for most of this afternoon, until I got home and was able to take out my contacts. Looks like I'll be wearing my glasses until this dies down a bit. I hate my glasses, 'cause I'm much too vain. But that's neither here nor there.

A public service announcement

2006-06-04T09:31:00.000-04:00

Don't forget to go here and give Mike some lovin' for his guest spot yesterday.

Just in case you're not quite awake yet and missed it, that's here. Now git, I can wait.

The verdict is in.

2006-06-04T01:04:00.000-04:00

GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH.GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH!

Just kidding!

(Don’t you hate when people do that? I know I do.)

To sum up, the evening was not terrible, not great.

Meh is the perfect word to describe it (if there was such a word, but we’ll pretend there is.)

Moving onto the details.

This morning, I gave B a call to discuss the plans for the evening that were in my head (wow, I finally realized that he’s not a mind reader and I need to TELL him things so that he KNOWS what I’m thinking, but I digress.)

My thought was that we would meet for sushi, and after dinner, head over to the dive bar that has AWESOME live blues. He agreed (without a peep from him about me driving myself… + 10 points) and we decided on eight o’clock as our meeting time.

The weather, on the other hand, had other plans for us.

The restaurant and dive bar are located on the Trashtasket strip, on the Atlantic. However, they are not next door to each other. The rain, which had been coming down in buckets for hours, would make the five minute hop, skip and a jump from dinner, to music, a second (wait, third) shower of the day.

At six o’clock, I called B back and asked, based on the impending floods, if he had an alternate plan. We decided we would head in the opposite direction to a place that had food and music all under one roof.

Problem solved. At least that problem.

I got to the pub just before eight and sat in the chair in the lobby waiting for B to get there. And waited. And waited. And waited. Ten minutes past, and still waiting, (-10 points for lateness) I reached into my bag to grab my cell, and realized I left it in the car.

Shit, motherfucker.

I have to go back outside, walk around to the back parking lot where my car is to fetch it. I’m getting wet again, and not in a good way. (-1 bazillion points, just ‘cause.)

(Yeah, I know… I was the one who left my cell in my car, why is he getting points docked? Hello! If he wasn’t late, I wouldn’t have to go fetch my cell, in the car, in the rain.)

I recovered my cell and saw that I missed a call from B at 8:04pm (+10 points for the timing, -5 of those points for no message.) I called him back; when he picked up, my question “Where are you?” was answered with “In the back. I came in the back door. Where are you?”

“In the front, waiting for you.” (Duh. –1 gazillion points for stupidity.)

He came and found me. After a couple of table changes (am I with L?) we finally sat, ordered drinks and looked at the menu.

Small talk about the kids and his job ensued. (I was pre-warned by L that the only thing husbands and wives really have to chat about are the kids and work, because it’s not like a real first date where you don’t know anything about each other, so no point deduction here.)

Twenty minutes in, he asked a question about my job. (+20 points for asking about me, -10 points for taking so fucking long.) (He’s still +10 in this category, k?!)

Our food came, and while I'm thinking about offering him the fries on my plate, he steals one. (-10 points for being forward.) (Yeah, I’m a hardass.)

We eat, chat, and I fidget.

I can’t get over my nervousness. It’s so obvious, B makes note of it. (-10 points for calling me out.)

The band finally started to play at 10pm.

The Joshua Tree. Can you figure out what kind of cover band they are?

(I have to take another aside to talk about the band. First of all, cover band? WTF? You wanna play, but you’re not original enough to come up with your own material? Don’t PLAY. Secondly…)

Dude! Pearl Jam's on Saturday Night Live. JAM BREAK!

Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, bitching about the band.

(Secondly, if you’re gonna cover a band and not have your own material, make it ROCK.)

The Joshua Tree so did not. They were lame. Lamer than lame. I’d heard so many good things about this band; they did not live up to the hype. The hype, I realized, has more to do with the fact that they’re an Irish cover band, and I live in the Irish coast of New England.)

Anyhoo, we left at 10:30, I was home by 11. We parted ways in the back parking lot with “I had fun.”

Meh.

I came home and called The Player to come over and get naked.

Just kidding! (Yeah, yeah, it's late. Sue me.)

But, I’m not unwilling to try again.

So there’s the plus.

Turning over the reins.

2006-06-03T03:42:00.000-04:00

Since my brain is too wrapped up with analyzing every detail of my impending date, I've asked my new friend Mike to step in and give you guys something fun to read.

I'm still not sure how Mike found my blog, but I'm glad he did. It gave me an opportunity to find his. He commented on one of my posts, and in that way I have, I clicked back to return the love. I was pleasantly surprised to find that not only is Mike funny, witty, snarky AND a smartass, he posts a LOT, which gives me plenty of reading material during the day when I'm bored at work. He's also kinda cute. (After you read this, you should go here and give him lots of love.)

So, without further ado... Mike, you can take it from here.
___________________________________________________

So here I am. And on time for a change. (I can say that because I wasn't given a specific time to show up.)

Stephanie asked me if I would do a guest blog for her and I readily agreed after the following thoughts:

1) This idea has always intrigued me and I've actually had several guest bloggers throughout my blog. And even one who actually knew me in person. Stephanie is being extremely brave though. Seriously brave. I was nervous about what exactly the guest blogger who knew me would write....and she knew me. Stephanie is putting her blog into the hands of a certifiable....um....never mind.

2) When I asked her for some details (as in ground rules) she really had none! This was her response; 'Take your best shot' and 'this is so cool' and 'I'm such a geek.' Honest, and I have the e-mails to prove it! (Yeah, I'm putty in her hands now. Weak in the knees and slack-jawed as well. I think if you look closely you'll see drool on my chin. But I'm a sexy beast so the drool isn't a turn off, really.)

3) Stephanie blogs in the nude. Honest. Well ok, I can't actually say I have a confirmed sighting , but using my vivid imagination I'm sure that's how it is. (And she's cute so she can get away with this and it's one way to beat the summer heat, bonus!)

So anyway, I agreed to do this. That was the easy part since she stroked my ego, patted my head so to speak.

The hard part was deciding exactly what to blog about?

Quite the dilemma. We discussed possibly doing a blogger roast ala celebrity roast style but I've opted to surprise her with another idea. Since I don't know her that well I really didn't want to alienate her. But then after further thought, she's still reading me now....perhaps that's not going to be an issue.

You see I bring out two thoughts in most women I meet in life. Yes the dreaded 'double D's' if you will. (I disgust them and they discourage any further contact.)

(So what if I collect restraining orders like some people collect stamps or coins? We all need our little hobbies.)

So where the hell was I? Oh....the dilemma. What to write about.

I thought the best way to determine this was to do a thorough blog inspection. So I dug around Stephanie's archives like a frat boy during a panty raid. (I was impressed to say the least and actually a little more than just a little turned on. I'll send back any borrowed materials Stephanie. They were needed as research items, honest!)

(Can anyone tell me if it's necessary to dry clean a thong? Just wondering. Thanks in advance. Oh...some of this other stuff....so lacy and frilly....again....a little help here please.)

I am so easily side-tracked.

So back to the content of this post. What to actually write about.

I decided an in-depth interview was the way to go. Since I own her blog today I get to make the rules though. I not only get to ask the questions, but I also get to provide the answers as well.

(She does have the right to refute any of her answers, or for that matter, go into greater detail if she wishes. After all....I'm not a monster and can be quite charming and thoughtful at times despite the restraining orders.)

Mike: 'What is your favorite use for duct tape?'

Stephanie: 'I really don't think you need to know this Mike. Just be satisfied that this wonder tape can spice up any room in the house.'

Mike: 'If your nickname was Room Service exactly what would this imply?'

Stephanie: 'It would depend on the type of room and who exactly is in the room. For instance Mike, if it was you, it would imply soggy toast and lukewarm coffee at best.'

Mike: 'What is your opinion on the prostitution of the tooth fairy?'

Stephanie: 'What the fuck is the matter with you Mike? Don't confuse the tooth fairy with that slut Snow White and those seven little perverts she runs around with.'

Mike: 'Do you consider yourself weird?'

Stephanie: 'Not after meeting you. I must have been insane to let you do this to me!'

Mike: 'What is you first thought before you go to bed?'

Stephanie: 'It used to be I wish I had the love of my life sharing this bed. Now it's pretty much did I lock the door so that perverts like you can't sneak in?'

Mike: 'What's the meanest thing you've allowed someone to do to you?'

Stephanie: 'Actually I'm starting to think this is gaining ground. I will be kicking your ass in the near future.'

Mike: 'Would you ever participate in a threesome?'

Stephanie: 'Only if the other two participants were you. Now before you get all big-headed let me explain. I figure as old and frail as you are it would take two of you to keep up with one of me.'

Mike: 'How do you vent your anger?'

Stephanie: 'I've made reservations at a very nice restaurant for us to show my gratitude to you. The best part is that it is strategically located within walking distance of both the emergency room and a funeral parlor. My best advice to you is to wear clean underwear. Preferably your own for a change.

So that's all I've got. I think the last question pretty much sealed the deal and why should I push my luck?

Thanks for allowing me to make a fool of myself today Stephanie and best of luck on that date you have coming up tomorrow night. (Well....it's tomorrow night from the time I wrapped up this 'lil gig up anyway.)
________________________________________________________

Mike, thanks, I loved having you here... the rest I'm leaving up to imagination, 'cause it involved me removing my bra, getting comfortable and ...oh, do you need a sandwich?

The Joker

2006-06-02T18:29:00.000-04:00

And you are caller number... 10!

You've just won two tickets to see Steve Miller, August 11th at the Bank Pavillion Center! Don't go anywhere, we'll be right back to get your information.

Woot!!!

Some people call me the space cowboy, yeah
Some call me the gangster of love
Some people call me Maurice
'Cause I speak of the pompitous of love

People talk about me, baby
Say I'm doin you wrong, doin you wrong
Well, dont you worry baby
Dont worry
'Cause I'm right here, right here, right here, right here at home

'Cause I'm a picker
I'm a grinner
I'm a lover
And I'm a sinner
I play my music in the sun

I'm a joker
I'm a smoker
I'm a midnight toker
I sure dont want to hurt no one

I'm a picker
I'm a grinner
I'm a lover
And I'm a sinner
I play my music in the sun

I'm a joker
I'm a smoker
I'm a midnight toker
I get my lovin on the run

Wooo wooooo

You're the cutest thing
That I ever did see
I really love your peaches
Want to shake your tree
Lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey all the time
Ooo-eee baby, I'll sure show you a good time

Cause I'm a picker
I'm a grinner
I'm a lover
And I'm a sinner
I play my music in the sun

I'm a joker
I'm a smoker
I'm a midnight toker
I get my lovin on the run

I'm a picker
I'm a grinner
I'm a lover
And I'm a sinner
I play my music in the sun

I'm a joker
I'm a smoker
I'm a midnight toker
I sure dont want to hurt no one

Wooo woooo

People keep talking about me baby
They say I'm doin you wrong
Well dont you worry, dont worry, no don't worry mama
'Cause I'm right here at home

You're the cutest thing I ever did see
Really love your peaches want to shake your tree
Lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey all the time
Come on baby and I'll show you a good time

Big news!

2006-06-02T16:26:00.000-04:00

I've turned OFF the stupid word verification. I hate that shit everywhere else, (anyone else never get those stupid letters right on the first try?) so it's gone from here now.

I now return you to your regularly scheduled program of Favorite movie quotes Friday V (do you think I can get all the way to XXIII? How many Friday the 13th movies did they make anyway? I think I need to go google that. Yeah, I'm bored, sue me.)

Favorite movie quotes Friday V

2006-06-02T08:26:00.000-04:00

Oh, bite the weenie, Riz.
With relish.

You see Mitch, I used to be you. Lately I've been missing me so I asked Dr. Hathaway if I could room with me again and he said sure.

They confiscated everything, even the stuff we didn't steal!

Cut the horseshit, son. I've got their disciplinary files right here. Who dropped a whole truckload of fizzies into the swim meet? Who delivered the medical school cadavers to the alumni dinner? Every Halloween, the trees are filled with underwear. Every spring, the toilets explode.

Tomorrow, I'll be kissing her aerobicized ass, but tonight, let me dream of a world without Heather, a world where I am free.

Where have you been soldier?
Training, sir.
What kind of training?
Army training, sir.

You're Bill Gates?

All right, remember - alcohol equals puke equals smelly mess equals nobody likes you!

Once again, things that could've been brought to my attention YESTERDAY!

You mean, let me understand this cause, ya know maybe it's me, I'm a little fucked up maybe, but I'm funny how, I mean funny like I'm a clown, I amuse you? I make you laugh, I'm here to fuckin' amuse you? What do you mean funny, funny how? How am I funny?

In Sicily, women are more dangerous than shotguns.

Beware of the dwarf.

His crowd has gone deadly silent, a Cinderella story outta nowhere. Former greenskeeper and now about to become the masters champion.

I'm afraid I'm gonna have to pull rank on you. I didn't want to have to do this. I'm with the Mattress Police. There are no tags on these mattresses.

I can't help it. I don't like to read when I drive.

Fuck a duck.

Morning. Who's for snot flicking?

Hey, Cameron. You realize if we played by the rules right now we'd be in gym?

I really love Rudy. He is totally enamored of me. I mean, I've had other men love me before, but not for six months in a row.

I loathe the bus. There has to be a more dignified mode of transportation.

You don't need a license to drive a sandwich.

Go the Hasslehoff!

(Okay, it’s your turn again. Leave ‘em in the comments, just like before. Play with me!)

Caution. Expletives ahead.

2006-06-01T09:31:00.000-04:00

Did you ever have so much shit running around in your brain that you can’t form a coherent thought?

That’s how I feel right now.

Anxious, anxious, anxious, anxious, anxious, anxious, anxious, anxious, anxious, anxious.

(You think I’m anxious?)

Yah.

B and I have plans to go out on Saturday night. Alone. No boysies. Just us.

The idea of this is scaring the ever loving, mother fucking, shit out of me.

My brain has made this into a do or die, make or break situation. A deal breaker if you will. I can’t keep dragging this out. I need to make a decision.

Can I recapture how I felt about B, once upon a time?

The problem is, I live with our history. That history makes me afraid. I can’t go back to living the life we shared. Being that unhappy every single day, putting up with his bullshit behavior. I do believe that he’s changed, but…

My brain doesn’t want me to forget. My brain is not letting me get comfortable around him. Because my brain sucks like that.

Is this fair to B? Not so much.

B wants me to approach Saturday like it’s a Jdate. A, never met the person, let my guard down and see how it goes, date.

Great in theory, but in real life?

I don’t know if it's possible.

We had a long conversation yesterday about my anxiety. That it’s not just about him, but he’s a part of it. That I’m a little sorry that I opened this great big can o worms before I worked out my own shit. I should’ve known better.

Then I told him I wanted to drive myself on Saturday, so when it was time to go home I could just get in my car and go. I want to be able to get in my car, attend to my own feelings and figure out what this all means.

The idea didn’t go over so well.

“You know I’ve always respected you.”

It’s not about that, asshole! It’s not about YOU. It’s about ME.

I want no pressure.

But that’s all there is right now.

A great, big, mother fucking, pressure cooker of pressure.

GAH!!!!!

I just know it's going to blow up.

And it’s not gonna be pretty when it does.

Nice to think positive, huh?

The Devil has a new Playground

2006-05-30T11:32:00.000-04:00

My good friend The Devil has a new Playground and it looks amazing!

So y'all should head over there and spend some time checking it out.

Ya know, play on the swings, climb the monkey bars, go down the slide. All that good stuff.

Tell him I sent ya.

Have fun!

The buck stops here

2006-05-30T11:16:00.000-04:00

It’s settled. I have to go shopping. Somehow I have to figure out the money, go buy some clothes that fit me, and stop obsessing about my weight.

It’s for the future positive self image of Big Guy as much as for me.

As I was putting the boysies in bed last night, Big Guy asked me if he was fat. He was sitting up in his bed, playing with the rolls on his tummy, as he asked me.

{{Sound of Mom’s breaking heart}}

This was after a weekend of watching mommy change her clothes repeatedly trying to find something flattering to wear.

At one point he asked me why I kept changing my outfit. My response was that I had put on a little weight, my clothes were not fitting correctly, and I was looking for something that was comfortable.

As you can imagine, I was not the happiest of campers when I responded to him.

Big Guy is just that, a big guy. He was 10lbs at birth; he’s been off the charts his entire life. At eight years old, he is just under 5 feet tall and he weighs about 95lbs. He is NOT fat, but he doesn’t have muscle tone in his stomach either. Which, HELLO, is completely normal for an 8yr old.

I immediately told him that he was not fat. That he should never think that way about himself. We talked about why I am always bugging him to go outside and play. That if he continues to do things like play soccer, baseball and kickball he’ll always be healthy. How swimming this summer is going to make him stronger. That we always need to have a good balance between healthy food and junk food. That he shouldn’t compare himself to his friends, (who all happen to be peanuts) that they're small and have different body types than he does. What’s important is being healthy. If you’re healthy, you’re not going to be fat.

By the end of this conversation, Big Guy was smiling and happy again. Crisis averted.

Mom is going to have to learn how to take her own advice, because I WILL NOT PASS THIS DISEASE ALONG TO MY SONS!

Memorial Day is not just for our Soldiers

2006-05-29T20:42:00.000-04:00

Reading a post over at Kvetch Blog earlier inspired me to share this story. After all, it is Memorial Day, and the people that lost their lives on 9-11-01 deserve to be memorialized as much as our fallen soldiers.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
9-11-01

L picked me up a little after 8AM to take us to Logan airport. We were both headed into NYC for work, and had managed to coordinate our shuttle flights.

Sort of.

I was on Delta, she was on U.S. Air, and our flights were scheduled a half an hour apart, but it still allowed us to travel to the airport together. Which meant we could utilize the carpool lane into Boston, saving us quite a bit of travel time (and aggravating traffic time.) We chatted the entire way into town, never bothering to turn on the radio, because we had so much to discuss.

B and I were still together at this point, but we were fighting constantly. I was becoming increasingly frustrated with the situation. L has always been my go to girl for advice, so most of our time in the car was spent discussing my options.

We arrived at Logan around 9:15, parked in central parking, and went our separate ways. As I approached the Delta terminal I noticed a gentleman sitting outside, smoking a ciggarette.

He looked at me and said "You're not getting to New York today."

I didn't respond outloud, but my brain did: "How do you know I'm going to New York, and what the fuck are you talking about?"

I hurried past him, into the ground level of the Delta terminal, and looked up at the board of scheduled flights.

Cancelled

Cancelled

Cancelled

All the way down the list it went. Every flight cancelled. Not delayed, cancelled. I was terribly confused. I went upstairs, approached the desk, and asked for an explanation.

I got nothing.

Except that, yes, all flights have been cancelled and no further information was available at this time.

I called L's cell. She picked up on the first ring and before I could get out a word, she said "You too?"

"My flight's been cancelled. Yours too?"

My call waiting beeped in, I checked the display, saw it was B, and told L I'd call her right back.

I clicked over.

"Hey. What's up?"

"Oh my G-d! Oh my G-d! Oh my G-d! Thank G-d you're okay!"

"What?" (I was definitely irritated at his histronics because I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about.)

"A plane hit the Twin Towers! It came from Boston. I thought you were on that plane!"

"My plane isn't scheduled to leave until 10:30, how could I have been on that plane? What are you talking about?"

"A plane hit the Twin Towers. It crashed right into it. I bet it was terrorists!"

"B, calm down. I'm sure it was just a terrible accident. Why do you always have to think the worst?" (As we would all later find out, his negativity was actually right on target, this time.)

I told him I had to call L back and figure out what we were going to do. I'd speak to him later.

Because L & I had no idea of the magnitude of what had happened, and were completely dedicated to our jobs, we proceeded to try and make other arrangements to get into NYC. I called Amtrack while she made her way over to the Delta terminal to meet me.

By the time she arrived I had realized that there was no way we were getting to NYC that day (another prophecy come to fruition.) We decided it was probably a better idea to just head back to the South Shore.

The ride back home was spent in silent reflection. We were both too stunned to speak. There was very little information coming from the radio; we were still in the dark as to what was going on.

We arrived at my house and turned on the television. The Today show was still broadcasting, and was showing footage of the Towers crumbling at that exact moment. I turned and looked at L.

"What is that? That can't be right! That's a joke, right?"

The message light on my machine was blinking. It was my mom. I was supposed to be staying with my parents that night. My mother was hysterical on the phone, begging me to call her. I picked up the phone to call her back, my eyes still glued to the wreckage on TV.

Watching the Towers fall, over and over again.

The phone rang a fast busy. (As it continued to do for the next few days. It was three days before I was able to speak to anyone in my family.) I tried a few more times before I hung up and looked over at L.

She was on her cell, tears streaming from her eyes.

L was a buyer for TJ Maxx before she moved to the South Shore and had her second child. The daily commute back and forth from Metro West was brutal. Tired of dealing with it, she had quit just months earlier.

The call was to tell her that one of the flights from Boston was filled with her friends from TJ's. Wives and mothers all. Had she still worked for them, she would've been on that flight as well.

We ended up at the beach that day. Smoking weed and reflecting on our lives. It was when and where I realized that my marriage could not continue in its current state. It was over. I needed to tell him to leave.

Because not only is life much too short to be unhappy, you never know when it might be snatched out from under you.

I was very lucky that day. I could've lost my brother.

Grumpy was in Building 7 early for a conference call and witnessed both planes crashing into the Towers. He was able to evacuate and escape with only the demons he will live with for the rest of his life.

The ironic thing was that it was a beautiful, sunny day here in small town suburbia.

Not so much in NYC.

G-d Bless all that were associated with, or effected by that horrific day. My thoughts and prayers will always be with you.

You were expecting... what?

2006-05-28T22:42:00.000-04:00

I’m sure y’all have been waiting with baited breath to hear the rest of my bitchfest.

(Not!)

Well then, I’m sure you’ll be surprised to learn, while the issues from my previous post still exist, they’ve been replaced with a sense of calm.

Seriously.

Part 3 of my earlier bitchfest, which I didn’t get to, was the anxiety I was feeling over my plans for the remainder of today, after the boysies’ baseball game.

B called earlier today to invite the boysies and I to a barbeque that his friends were having this evening (B and the boys went last year, without me, of course.) His friends live in my town and are part of the clique that has consistently snubbed me for the past four years.

Let me interject a small clarification before I continue.

Any woman living in small town suburbia as a “single mom” will tell you, at least when it comes to dealing with other mom’s, your equivalent is the plague.

You are a representation of everything they don’t want to be. Include any semblance of attractiveness to your persona; you’ve just added “threat” to your repertoire.

It makes isolation sound like a party.

I didn’t know what to expect this evening. Would these women be nice to me? Speak to me even?

They never have before.

Because I’m the one who destroyed B’s life and took his family away from him (at least that’s what I assumed they’d heard.)

On the flip side, their husbands always talk to me.

Which, actually, makes it worse.

Because then, the automatic assumption is that “I’m after them.”

Which, I’m not.

But, does anyone take the time to get to know me, and know that I’m not that kind of person?

Of course not. That would be non-judgmental and rational. We don’t have that here.

We just have bitches.

It’s a new money town with a new money attitude.

I know, I chose to live here.

(For me it’s all about the schools. (And the beach, but mostly about the schools.) A town where the public schools are as good as private school and you don’t have to pay extra? Sign me up.)

(But, I’ve never been good with political bullshit, and small town politics are the worst.)

Anyhoo, back to the barbeque…

Look at that, I show up with B, suddenly I’m acceptable. There are women making nice to me, making small talk, asking about my kids even.

Holy shit.

Have I died and gone to heaven?

Nope, only as far as, “Pull this leg and it plays Jingle Bells.”

Yes, it’s nice to feel accepted, but I know from whence it came. And I don’t trust it as far as I can throw it.

Yet, it left me feeling serene.

That I’ll take.

‘Cause serene is good right now.

The bitchfest begins

2006-05-28T13:48:00.000-04:00

I’ve been avoiding this rant like the plague.  But, the more I try and hide from it, the more anxious I become.

(You might want to stand back; this could get loud and ugly.)

Why is it that I’m supposed to not be worrying and obsessing about my weight when it’s finally getting warm outside?  If it was 20 degrees and I had to dress in layers, I wouldn’t be giving it a second thought.  But it’s not.  It’s 90 degrees and I need to wear shorts.  Unfortunately, my shorts are not letting me wear them, because they are too fucking tight.  And half this town treats me like trash already; I’m going to give them more fodder?  I’m thinking not.

Now, the rational part of my brain realizes that having size 2 shorts not fit, well, not such a big deal… the irrational side is telling me that I’m fat and I’d better stop eating right now.

I’m sure there are some of you out there asking why not just go buy some new shorts?

Right.

Let’s get to Part 2 shall we?

In the next month, along with my normal expenses of bringing up two growing boys, (who are always hungry!) I have to come up with my half of camp costs, which is $1,200.  Add to that, there are FOUR weeks between the end of school this year and the beginning of school next year that I don’t have boysies coverage for.  Which means we’ll need to hire a nanny.  That’s at least $400 a week.  Add another $800 to this tally for my half.

That’s not so bad you say?  Well, Big Guy needs three baby teeth extracted.  Yes, I have dental insurance that covers 80% of the surgery.  What it doesn’t cover is the $300 medication they have to give him to make him woozy enough to do the surgery!  Hence, another $425 to add to the mounting total.

I make a decent salary.  But all this extra shit is putting me in a position where I cannot spend a dime that isn’t an absolute necessity.  B and I share joint custody of the boys; we share their expenses.  But he’s fucking broke, and while yes, he just got a new job, one that actually pays him a salary plus commission, that’s not going to show an upside for a while.  And it’s still CIGARS for fuck’s sake.

Crap.  Gotta go to baseball.  I’ll finish this later.

How long before they're teenagers?

2006-05-27T14:40:00.000-04:00

You would think that as the boysies get older, they’d want to sleep in. Not so much. My day started at 6AM with Little Dude at my bedroom door.

“Mommy, my bed is wet, can you dry it?”

“Did you have an accident buddy?”

“No, I spilt my water in it by mistake.”

“It’ll dry. I’m still sleeping.”

I refused to even open my eyes for this exchange.

He was back again at 7.

“Mommy, I’m hungry. Can I have peanut butter?”

“Sure. You can get it yourself.”

“But I can’t reach.”

“Use the stool, Mommy’s sleeping.”

Exactly an hour later I hear my door open again. I crack an eye open. Yep, he’s back.

“Mommy, when are you getting up?”

“I guess now, huh?”

I’ll say one thing, the little guy’s persistent, but at least he gave me some catnap time in between visits.

Sold

2006-05-26T19:41:00.000-04:00

Whew.

That’s me, breathing a sigh of relief. If the sale of the house goes through, which it should, I’ll have a new landlord in the next few months. He’s not only fine with us staying right where we are; he’s planning on living downstairs. Which means he might actually take care of the property. Someone that will mow the lawn, plow the driveways, and maybe make this place look a little nicer on the outside? Woot!

Did I mention he’s cute and single? (I think he's single. I didn’t see a ring but that doesn’t mean anything.)

And cute?

(Bad Stephanie! You’re not supposed to be noticing that! You’re supposed to be focusing on putting your family back together.)

(Brain, you can shut the fuck up, thank you very much. There’s nothing wrong with noticing a little eye candy.)

He was here with the realtor and home inspector when I got home with the boys this evening. He was very cordial, first apologizing for not having completed the inspection before we got there, then asking if there was anything that I was currently unhappy with. He confirmed a few times that we wanted to stay, and then introduced himself to Big Guy and Little Dude.

Who were more interested in how long it was taking me to get their snack on the table then shaking hands and introducing themselves.

“Little Dude.” He turns and looks at me. “Mommy! Can I have my Ruffles now… PLEASE?!”

Nice, huh?

There was one point where he came over to speak to me that I had to take a step back. Yeah, a close talker; I don’t like those much. (Yo, buddy, umm, reasonable distance please. We’re not on a date here.) To his credit, he got the hint; it only happened that once. When he was leaving he said he’d give me a call to go over all the details.

Did I mention he’s cute?

All of a sudden I have these fantasies floating thru my head…

This is the reason I’ve been living here. It’s destiny. I was supposed to meet him. We’ll get to know each other because he lives right downstairs. We’ll fall in love, the boys will adore him, and we’ll all live happily ever after.

He’s probably got a girlfriend. That’s always my luck.

(Brain, I told you to shut the fuck up!)

Maybe I’ll have to stop fixing things on my own and start asking for help.

He was the one that put that idea on the table, not me. I should take him up on it.

And maybe start wearing a little mascara on a regular basis again.

Ya think it’s been too long since I’ve dated or that I'm not really feeling it with B?

Yeah. 'Bout that.

Favorite movie quotes Friday IV

2006-05-26T06:34:00.000-04:00

I want a woman that will arouse my intellect as well as my loins.

I asked for a car, I got a computer. How's that for being born under a bad sign?

Fuck… Shit… Fuck this shit!

This isn't flying. This is falling, with style!

Hello! McFly!!

Snap out of it!

That’s alright, that’s okay… you’re gonna pump our gas one day.

I’ve got moves you’ve never seen before.

Do you think she hates me?
With a passion.
Do you think it’s the hat? A lot of people hate this hat, it angers them just at the sight of it.

People on ludes should not drive!

Well, I guess it goes from God, to Jerry to you to the cleaners. Right, Kent?

Over? Did you say "over"? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!
Germans?
Forget it, he's rolling.

May I have ten thousand marbles, please?

You're a fucking *psycho*.

Everybody's coming back to take stock of their lives. You know what I say? Leave your livestock alone.

How does he do it, you ask. How does … how does an average guy like me become the number one lover-man in his particular postal district? He's grumpy, he's broke, he hangs out with the musical moron twins...

Dear Diary, my teen-angst bullshit now has a body count.

The only place different social types can genuinely get along with each other is in heaven.

Love the bag, love the shoes, love everything. Love to!

What’s ‘e going to do? Nibble yer bum?

I'm pondering the immortal words of Socrates who said, "I drank what?"

What we've been doing lately is smoking massive amounts of drugs, binging on Entemann's and listening to old Pink Floyd CD's.

I like to mash snow. It gives me a tremendous feeling of self satisfaction.

Tito Puente's gonna be dead, and you're gonna say, "Oh, I've been listening to him for years, and I think he's fabulous."

Veronica, why are you pulling my dick?

(Y'all know how this works already. Leave yours in the comments if you'd like. I'd like ya to.)

I'm it

2006-05-25T10:00:00.000-04:00

I’ve been tagged! I’m it!

The lovely Stefanie from Baby on Bored tagged me yesterday.

(If you guys haven’t checked out her site, do it. She’s very funny, and not your typical mommy blogger (kinda like me.) So, go on. Git. I’ll wait.)

I don’t usually participate in meme’s, but I think she’s great, so I’ll play along.

(Also, if I didn’t do this, my post today was going to be one long bitchfest, and I’m trying to avoid that.)

(Could I have any more asides this morning?)

Anyhoo, back to the meme…

The Three _____s on a Desert Island.

If you were stranded on a desert island (without Ginger and the Professor and all those folks to keep you amused), which three _____s would you bring?

Books: I only get to bring three? What’s up with that!?

1. Exodus by Leon Uris. I first read this book when I was 13 years old, and I own a first edition copy of it now (thanks daddy!) It’s an accounting of the Holocaust, and the subsequent creation of modern day Israel. It’s also an adventure and a love story. Fabulously and hauntingly written, it stays with you long after you finish it. It’s also a book that can be read time and time again and you’ll always find something new.

2. The Princess Bride by William Goldman. For those that have only seen the movie, READ the book. The movie is a classic, and one of the only books that has translated well to the big screen, BUT the book is better.

3. The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. Because I’m in the middle of it, and would go crazy if I wasn’t able to finish it!

Albums/CD’s: With the invention of Ipod, isn’t this a little silly? But I digress.

1. Pearl Jam: July 11, 2003 Live at the Tweeter Center. I was at this show. It was one of the most amazing concerts I’ve ever seen. Eddie and the boys came out and did 13 acoustic songs, left to allow Sleater Kinney to play for an hour, and then came back and played for another two hours. (They publish all of their concerts on Pearljambootlegs.com and I immediately bought it.) It’s three CD’s altogether, and still my favorite album.

2. Gavin DeGraw: Chariot. The special edition, 2 CD set with the stripped versions of all the songs. This CD just hasn’t gotten old yet, and I love every song.

3. Sheryl Crow: The Very Best of Sheryl Crow. 'Cause I have to have my Sheryl.

People:

1. Josh Holloway: Sawyer from LOST. If I’m trapped on a desert island, I absolutely need to be getting some. Who better than my current ultimate fantasy (sorry, John Cusack, you’ve been replaced.)

2. Rudy Giuliani: If he can’t be president, he might as well be on the island with me regaling me with tales of his life and times.

3. L. ‘Cause I want my best friend with me.

Now I’m supposed to tag someone, right? I don’t feel right about this. I feel like I should ask them first. But that’s not how you play this game. So, Ali, Amy, and… let’s throw a guy in here for fun… Neil… Tag!

You’re all it.

Must Love Jaws

2006-05-24T08:48:00.000-04:00

N'uh Uh. No she d'n't.

Oh yes I did. I've become a sellout. I'm posting a video. But this thing is so frikkin' funny I have to.

Grumpy showed this to me last night, and I couldn't stop laughing. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did.

ETA: Not a Brokeback Mountain parody, and the music choices are priceless.

Shoutout

2006-05-23T18:46:00.000-04:00

I really want to thank The Bitches.

While Bitch Esq. gave me quite the spanking, and not in a good, yeah baby, kind of way, the traffic thru this blog has literally exploded since Sunday night. Not only are people staying and reading, but they're coming back too.

(Heya to the new readers! ) (Eric Stratton, rush chair, damn glad to meetcha.)

(Oh, and just so y'all know... comments, I love comments. Feel free to post your thoughts.)

So, Bitches...

Love ya! Kisskiss.

ETA: The review did not upset me. I fully expected to get what I got after I pissed off Bitter Bitch. The site is hilarious, I love their reviews, it's ALL good. And, if you read the comments, there were plenty of people who said they liked it. Including B.B. herself. Kthnxby.

A lesson in what NOT to do

2006-05-23T11:34:00.000-04:00

We’ve decided to take matters into our own hands. Kat is not capable of caring for herself right now, and if she can’t, we will. Because Rat Bastard is going to walk all over her if we don’t.

I am in a bit of shock over what I feel is pure stupidity on Kat’s part. She let Rat Bastard take care of everything in terms of money. She has no idea of:

His social security number.

Her checking account number.

How much money is in her checking account.

Who her mortgage company is.

This list goes on and on. She is living like it’s frikkin 1950! Kat, I love you, but how could you have kept yourself in the dark for so long?

And, to make matters worse, she’s still hoping for a reconciliation. Believes that maybe he’ll change his mind and come home.

This is the same man that leased an apartment 2 days after he moved out. Yeah, okay. He’s coming home. NOT.

Kat, Kat, Kat.

Quincy and I are convinced that Rat Bastard has been plotting for a while. He’s obviously aware of his wife’s lack of interest in their finances (“Jeff’ll just take care of it.” GRRRRR), we’re wondering how much he’s already squirreled away. Hundred grand? Two? It’s possible.

And it get’s worse. Another piece of information Kat let drop yesterday?

Rat Bastard hasn’t filed their tax return yet.

Did I mention he owns his own business and is really good with numbers?

Yah.

(Ladies, please make sure that YOU are always aware of your financial situation and have your OWN money. I implore you.)

Quincy and I decided last night that in order to protect Kat and give her some bargaining power against Rat Bastard she’s going to have to learn the truth. Not that we want to hurt her, but if she doesn’t get angry, and soon, he’s gonna have a field day in what he gets away with.

She needs to get her hand back.

L is writing an anonymous note and putting it in the mail today. It’s going to contain just enough details to open the door that needs to be opened.

Quincy and I will be around to pick up the pieces. Because, Kat will break from this information.

But she really needs to know. NOW.

Think I can get away with kicking Rat Bastard in the balls at baseball practice, and pretending it was an accident?

Or maybe I can have the boysies aim the ball at his head when they're throwing it to him.

Fucktard.

Asshat.

Priceless

2006-05-22T18:01:00.000-04:00

I’m helping Little Dude with his kindergarten reader homework this evening.

“What’s this word mommy?”

“Why don’t you sound it out? It’s pretty easy.”

He starts counting out the letters with his fingers, saying each letter sound, as he’s been taught to do.

“Ha”

“Aa”

“Sss”

He looks up at me with those big blue eyes of his.

“Ass?”

Really, I tried not to snicker.

It's all about YOU today

2006-05-22T10:07:00.000-04:00

If you're Grumpy, that is.

Happy Birthday Grumpy. I love you. We may not always see eye to eye, but you've ALWAYS been there for me when I've needed you. And for that, I want to thank you. I know that I can always count on you for your support, I hope you know it goes both ways.

The only pic I have of us together, so it'll have to do.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

You think so, huh? Well, I'll show you!

2006-05-21T18:29:00.000-04:00

I guess my Brain didn’t like the talking to it got this morning. (See below, I'm not linking to it.)

At about 7:15, after being awake for almost 3 hours, my body finally decided it was ready and able to go back to sleep. Little did I know what my Brain had in store for me.

It was one of those dreams that’s so vivid, you feel that you are an active participant; awake even.

I don’t know how long I was asleep before I heard footsteps, then panting, then whining beside my bed. In an instant, there was a dog on top of me, attacking me. I rolled over and burrowed under my blankets in order to try and protect myself. And yes, I will admit to being vain enough to make sure that my face was buried in my pillow. He began biting my feet and legs.

Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!

(Hey, this is a dream, why does this actually hurt? I’m feeling real pain, pain as if a dog is biting me. That’s not supposed to happen in a dream!)

The entire time this is happening I am thinking, “This is a dream. There’s no way there could be a dog in here attacking me. I locked and dead bolted the doors before I went to sleep last night. How does a dog open a door anyway? This is a dream. Wake up and open your eyes. Wake up!”

But, I couldn’t force myself awake. Myself was just not having it. The dream continued, and the dog continued to gnaw at my feet and legs.

Did I mention this feels like it hurts a lot?

“C’mon. This is a dream. Wake up already!”

I open my eyes. The dog is gone. Thank G-d! Finally.

Flashity Flash Flash Cut.

I’m sitting on the floor in a living room, though, not MY living room.

“Shit. I’m still dreaming. What now?”

Oh, look. There’s another girl here. I guess I have a roommate in this dream.

And what’s your name pretty girl?

(Get your mind out of the gutters, I’m talking about the new dog that’s shown up and has immediately come up to me.)

The “roommate” looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place her. Her dog makes her way into my lap where I begin to scratch behind her ears. Thank G-d, a friendly dog. Instead of looking to eat my feet for dinner, she immediately becomes putty in my hands and flips onto her back for a belly rub.

Oh, so you’re a little doggie slut?

Now my “roommate” speaks up to tell me to grab my stuff, we’re meeting people for breakfast.

Cool. I wonder if we’re going to Toast.

Flashity Flash Flash Cut

I’m now sitting in a restaurant (not Toast, boo) with three girls and a guy. Everyone looks vaguely familiar; like I’ve seen or met them before.

Suddenly it hits me. These are bloggers that I read. That’s how I “know” them, their pictures are posted on their profiles. Stranger still, it jogs my memory into realizing that they’ve all visited me before in a dream exactly like this one.

Could this get any weirder?

The service in the restaurant stinks, and I’m getting annoyed. I’ve got an empty cup in front of me that should be filled with coffee. I crane my neck around the restaurant hoping to spot a waitress. I do, and lift my cup in the air after I catch her eye. I get the Sonic Death Stare in return.

Okay, I’ll get it myself.

I get up from the table and head towards the back of the restaurant. I spot the coffee pot sitting on the burner and hurl myself towards it. I grab the handle, drop it and curse. WTF? Ow! (Why do I keep getting hurt in this dream?!) For some reason the handle of the coffee pot is about 100 degrees. Maybe this is why the waitress wouldn’t bring me coffee.

I walk back to our table to find my favorite Marc Jacobs handbag sitting on top of it. (At least I remember how to accessorize in my dreams.) There is also a half eaten omelet sitting in front of my chair.

Did I eat that? I don’t remember eating anything.

Turns out, it doesn’t matter.

Suddenly, there’s a progression of wait staff emerging from the kitchen, platters of food held high above their heads, heading towards us.

As they place the plates onto our table (which has suddenly tripled in size in order to accommodate all of this) I see that they are filled with different delicacies. Truffles, pastries and cookies are the first to be set down. Followed by Shrimp, lox, Canadian bacon, dried beef.

Wait. Dried beef? I’m having beef jerky for breakfast?!

That revolting thought was enough to bring me back to the land of the living. My eyes popped open, I rolled over and glanced at the cable box on top of the television in my room.

7:45 AM

You mean that was only 30 minutes?!

Crap!

Just sayin

2006-05-21T05:36:00.000-04:00

Umm, Brain, I'd like to have a little word with you. You see, it's Sunday. Sunday is supposed to be the day of rest.

(Yes, I know, not so much when you're Jewish. That would actually be Saturday. But then I wouldn't have a point here, so let's just go with it, shallwe? Mkay.)

Where was I?

Oh yes, the day of rest. Sunday.

You see Brain, there are no kids here this morning. No little ones to come bouncing in at the crack of dawn with their "Good Morning, Mommy's!"

(Or, more likely, "Mom! (insert either Big Guy or Little Dude here) is (doing insert your choice of a variety of behaviors here) to me! Can you make him stop?"

And, Brain, it isn't like the boysies aren't coming home this afternoon. So the possibility of me getting in a nap later, ya know, when I'm totally dragging ass... is not so much gonna happen.

So, Brain, I guess what I'm trying to say here is... why, oh why did you decide to wake me up at 4:30 this morning and not allow me to get back to sleep?

Oh yeah, how could I forget.

'Cause you suck.

Oopsie

2006-05-20T15:30:00.000-04:00

I Major League pissed off BB at IT2M by questioning why someone's review had been done before mine in a comment I left.

So, now, I'm either gonna get the dead fish, the boot, negative smacks, a combination of all three, or never get reviewed at all.

Ah well. Live and learn.

I hope she doesn't think I take this shit seriously.

Hee.

5/21 ETA: [I give it (no smacks) and a genuine smack upside the head for wasting mine and Bitter’s time. If you’re going to whine about not getting a review, why don’t you give us a blog worth reviewing? Just sayin’. ]

My smackdown

Did I call this one, or what? Just sayin.

Low man on the totem pole

2006-05-19T16:09:00.000-04:00

I know buying accessories for a women’s retailer is kind of like being the stepchild in a family.

You’re not as important as the big player; you usually get last billing. Granted, if my business was worth $45.0M to the total, I’d be more of a priority. But it isn't; it’s more like $10.0M.

Which makes me low man on the totem pole.

Today was our monthly Open to Buy meeting. This one’s a big deal because new-mommy has instilled a couple of new top executives, one of which was sitting in on the meeting today. Because the focus is turning the Apparel business around, Accessories was scheduled to go last.

All I wanted to do was present my business. Someone asked me earlier in the week if I was nervous (this executive has a reputation as a hard ass.)

“Why should I be? I know my business, the numbers, and I know how to present it all. What's to be nervous about? Really, I’m just happy to have a true merchant here. One that will ask the tough questions instead of pontificating because he likes the sound of his own voice.”

I prepared recaps and numbers galore for this meeting. I wrote out my page of speaking points, to keep myself from going off on tangents. In other words, so ready to go.

My boss just came by. They’ve unearthed a few sticking points in the Knit and Sweater Division, and really need more time. Accessories has been cancelled.

Yep, that’s right. Cancelled.

My boss did mention that my EVP made a comment that she knew I had probably over prepared for this meeting, and that she felt badly.

But still.

Bastards.

Friday Random Five

2006-05-19T15:15:00.000-04:00

I've been spending my afternoon surfing blogs, waiting for my turn in Open to Buy. I'm bored, bored, bored...

(Bald, bald, bald. Bald as a ping pong ball, boy are you bald.)

(Name that quote and you win... oh I don't know... something)

Can I just say that there are some shitty ass blogs out there. But, there are some good ones too.

~Unsettled~

This one I like. And it's where I got this:

Friday Random Five:

Power up your digital music listening device, hit shuffle, and list the first five songs that pop up. That's it. No explanations, no nothing. It’s just a pure unadulterated look at our music collection. Lack of embarrassing selections will probably prove that you cheat.

This was mine:

1. When the stars go blue - Tim McGraw
2. Don't do me like that - Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
3. I Know Why - Sheryl Crow
4. How sweet it is to be loved by you - Marvin Gaye
5. If it Makes you Happy – Sheryl Crow

Ya think I might have a little too much Sheryl on my Nano?

Nah. You can never have too much Sheryl.

(She says as the next song is The First Cut is the Deepest.)

So, what's playin' in yours?

Favorite movie quotes Friday III

2006-05-19T06:00:00.000-04:00

If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's, well, broken.

You can never go home again, Oatman... but I guess you can shop there.

Uh, I don't hear any real remorse, dude, I mean, like, I don't think I'd let him back into your life. And dude, I'd make him wear that prom dress!

I've been listening to my gut since I was 14 years old, and frankly speaking, I've come to the conclusion that my guts have shit for brains.

Ok, here's the deal. I have a hangover. Who knows what that means?
Doesn't that mean you're drunk?
No. It means I was drunk yesterday.

Your kids have all really touched me, and I'm pretty sure that I've touched them.

They took the bar, the whole fucking bar!

Hey, how come Andrew gets to get up? If he gets up... we'll all get up... it'll be anarchy!

Oh, obscene finger gestures from such a pristine girl!

Looks like you've been missing a lot of work lately.
Well, I wouldn't exactly say I've been missing it, Bob.

I believe you have my stapler.

Pull this leg and it plays Jingle Bells.

I refuse to date any guy whose ass is smaller than mine.

Now go away before I taunt you a second time.

Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.

I can’t swim!
Are you crazy? The fall will probably kill you!

Dammit, why is everything we’re good at illegal?

Nobody drink the beer, the beer has gone bad!

I’m the king of beer. That’s right, the king of beer right here!

What’s your damage, Heather?

Lick it up, baby. Lick. It. Up.

Boy, don't make me open up a can of whoop-ass!

You passed out cigarettes for a smoke-a-thon on Earth Day. You installed speed bumps on the handicapped ramps and, most recently, you dumped 100 pounds of... MEAT on a peaceful vegan protest!
Oh, come on! That was way more than 100 pounds.

That's the beauty of college these days, Tommy! You can major in Game Boy if you know how to bullshit.

Wait a minute... no beer? Well, where the hell's Gutter?
Probably in a parking lot somewhere picking his nose.

Have you ever been wrong about anything before in your life?
Yes. Once.
The shoes, right? The shoes are tragic.

You know it’s dangerous for you to be here.
Why?
'Cause you could melt all this stuff.

If you’re here and I’m here, doesn’t it make it our time?

Well make up your mind dude. Is he going to shit, or is he going to kill us?
First he’s gonna shit, then he’s gonna kill us.

It’s only an island if you look at it from the water.

We’re gonna need a bigger boat.

You can't go. All the plants are gonna die.

No, we're not homosexual, but we are willing to learn.

Where is your drill sergeant, men?
Blown up sir.

No more yankie my wankie, the Donger need food!

I passed... then I failed.
Then I'm happy... and sad for you.

Your mother puts license plates in your underwear? How do you sit?

So you're the little neighborhood Lolita.
So you're the alcoholic high school buddy shit for brains.

You let her behind the curtain; I know you did. You never let them behind the curtain Will. You never let them see the little old man behind the curtain working the levers of the great and powerful OZ. They are all sisters Willie... they aren't allowed back there... they mustn't see.
Tell me the truth. You stay up nights thinking about this shit?
You say it like it's a bad thing.

Don't go mistaking paradise for a pair of long legs.

Any fool can get into college. Only a select few can say the same about Amanda Jones.

It must be a hen house, because all I see is chicken shit.

'Cause you're stupid. I always knew you were stupid.

I took out an ad for Christ's sake. And I ended up with the Jewish Sandra Dee.

(C’mon, quote with me again! Leave yours in the comments.)

Anyone got a gun?

2006-05-18T22:37:00.000-04:00

'Cause you need to come over and shoot the fucking frog croaking like a motherfucker outside my window! (Dude, I'm horny too, but I'm not croaking about it!)

Yeah, I'm gonna get some sleep tonite. NOT.

Unless I make another martini.

Grey Goose anyone?

Throw em all under the bus....

2006-05-18T01:00:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I know it's about LOST.

I try to make it a rule that I don't blog about television. I broke that rule last week for the first time. I believe "Hell if I know" was my reasoning at the time.

Tonight I know the reason. They've made it personal. They made it about "the kid." Which, I know, is totally intentional. How better to reel in new viewers than to get them sucked into a "kid in peril" story.

I've been watching for a while. While I'm not a fan of the "Waaalllltttt" screaming Michael, if I was put in the situation that Michael has been put in, I would lead my friends into a trap too. I'd give up whomever they wanted in order to get my kid back. That is where this writing is true to your soul. And why I watch this show.

BTW - Bad Boat! Don't go near the boat!

Understanding

2006-05-17T14:15:00.000-04:00

Last night, after therapy, I headed over to Quincy’s house to pick her up. When I got there, I found her sitting in the driveway, inside her truck.

“You really didn’t want to go back inside after your appointment, huh?”

“Not so much. He can deal with the Spawn of Satan for an evening.”

Hee.

We headed over to Kat’s house, first making a pit stop for the food.

I had spoken to Kat a bit earlier, and mentioned the mexican food and margaritas to her. She told me that she wasn’t drinking due to the medication the doctor just put her on, but Quincy and I should feel free to indulge.

“What medication?”

“Xanax. For my anxiety. But they specifically told me not to drink. Also, I haven’t eaten in two days. And I really need to get some sleep. They say this will help me sleep.”

You know what’s gonna help her sleep? One of my famous margaritas. I stopped and got the booze I needed anyway. One wasn't gonna hurt her.

Quincy got into my car and we headed over to Kat’s. I wasn’t prepared for how she looked when she opened the door. I gave her a huge hug, which only started her crying again, so, I let her cry.

Quincy busied herself getting the food put out onto plates for us; I made a pitcher of margi’s. When we finally sat down at the table together, Kat really opened up about what had been going on. I was a little taken aback, as well as rendered speechless at times (yeah, I know, me, speechless? Inconceivable!) (Shut up, Grumpy. )

The thing is, she is B in this situation. Rat Bastard said and did some of the exact things I said and did to B when I told him I was done four years ago. Things like telling him that I had been unhappy for years, I dreaded being home with him, I cringed at any sign of affection he gave me.

Of course, I didn’t give B the added bonus of cheating on him, but I digress.

Listening to Kat cry about how her boys’ lives were going to crumble made me feel guilty all over again for what I put my own kids through with the separation. Which, of course, I voiced. This thought was immediately shot down by both Quincy and Kat (this is why I love my friends.)

“Umm, hello! You had a little different background and situation. You had to make that choice. Rat Bastard did not have to drive his kids to the bus stop, come home, pack a bag in front of his wife and 3 year old and leave.”

Yah. That’s what he did.

Fucktard.

Asshat.

She is devastated. For herself and for her children. But what scares me is that she’s still holding onto hope that he’s gonna come back. Change his mind and come home.

I tried to tell her last night… If that’s in the cards, which I don’t think it is, it’s going to be YEARS before it happens.

I felt like such a bitch. But I don’t want her walking around with a false sense that he’s coming home. Because I know he’s not.

(We’re not telling her the reason why, because I am not willing to hurt her that much, which some people may not agree with, but I will NEVER tell her what I know.)

She already fears being without her boys. Having time to herself that she doesn’t know how to fill. She’s also found the “envious” that I walk around with. As we were leaving last night she told us about it.

I gave her another hug and I told her that she can call me anytime day or night to talk about it, that I COMPLETELY understand.

‘Cause I do.

My new home

2006-05-17T09:17:00.000-04:00

Sandi at Lunastone Designs put up with my extreme pickiness and anal tendencies, and gave me a new home.

Now every time I open the page, I feel like I'm at my beach... and there's definitely nothing wrong with that!

Hope y'all like it too!

Thanks Sandi!!

I'm "rarely stupid!" Yay!!

2006-05-16T13:08:00.000-04:00

I asked Tabz over at Stupid People Shouldn't Breed to take a look at my blog and give me a review.

For those that haven't visited her site (she is listed on my blog stalking list) she reviews blogs and can give some really excellent feedback. I liked her style, so I asked her what she thought of mine.

So go check it out if you get a chance.

My review

C'mon, git.

Circling the wagons

2006-05-16T11:00:00.000-04:00

My friend Kat is one of those rare people. She is genuinely nice. Never has a bad word to say about even the worst people. Will always look for the good rather than the bad. She’s religious, but not in that obnoxious, shove it down your throat kinda way. She was also the first mom in my town to befriend me; take me under her wing and show me that there were some decent, non-judgmental people living here.

I don’t know Kat’s husband that well. Whenever Kat and I hang out, it’s a girl’s night thing (Quincy and L are usually there too.) I do know that they were college sweethearts, but she’s fairly private when it comes to talking about her personal life (I just figured that was a Catholic thing.) B hangs out with him at baseball; they both like to help out (unofficially) with the coaching. They've also recently made the connection that he buys cigars from B as well.

So when Kat invited B and I to her son’s first communion party this past Saturday, I figured it was a good way to get to know them better as a couple. Especially since B already had this connection with him, as well as the fact that B and I may end up as a couple again; we’re going to want some “couple” friends.

The party was lovely. Kat’s son did a happy dance with my boys after he opened the envelope containing the two crisp twenty-dollar bills we gave him. It was a hoot. The men watched over the kids, taking one short cigar break, and us ladies sat around with our sangria chatting about nothing. Until Kat’s husband decided to take a nap on the couch and left B watching the kids in the basement by himself. I rescued him, said our thank you’s and we were on our way.

Quincy called me yesterday at work. She needed to be cryptic, as her kids were in the back seat, but I finally figured out she was trying to tell me that Kat’s husband had packed a bag that morning and moved out. Just like that. No discussions, just done. Rat Bastard! Kat is in shock, devastated, doesn’t know what to do with herself. I’m in shock myself.

I called B on the way home from work yesterday to ask him if Rat Bastard had said anything to him about Kat. I filled him in on the details of the morning.

He let out a nervous laugh before he said, “Yeah, about that….”

“What? Please tell me. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on here. If you know something, please tell me.”

“Well, he came in on Friday to pick up a box of cigars and, well, really just TMI for only knowing him a short time.”

‘What do you mean?”

“He told me that he and Kat have been sleeping in separate bedrooms for over nine months now. That he met someone else, and is in love with this person. That he was planning on leaving.”

“Oh my G-d.”

“Oh, yeah. And this is the day before we’re supposed to be going to their house for the party. Do you see why I was hiding downstairs with the kids? I couldn’t talk to anyone! He told me this and all I could think was, Dude, I’d rather have known what you just did in the bathroom!”

It’s funny what secrets lurk behind closed doors. How appearances are just that, appearances. Big beautiful houses, happy smiling couples, perfectly behaved children. These things make me envious. I don’t want to be envious of my friends, but I do find myself longing for these things that I think make their lives more complete than mine.

Funny dat, huh?

It’s time to circle the wagons. Kat is much too nice to go after Rat Bastard the way he needs to be gone after. So Quincy and I are going to take care of it. But, first, tonite, we’re bringing over Margaritas and Mexican food and we are gonna get her stinkin’ drunk (and we’re gonna sleep there, ‘cause we’re gonna be stinkin’ drunk too.)

‘Cause if anyone deserves to escape their life right now, it’s my friend Kat.

Give up my Seven's? Never!

2006-05-15T13:07:00.000-04:00

My friend Neil over at Citizen of the Month posted today about women’s sizes and the fashion industry. In response to the difficulty he had finding a suitable outfit for his MIL, because she is a size 18-20, he went home and did some Googling. What he found was:

“Most fashion designers and popular boutiques do not want their fashions to be worn by anyone over size 12. Even the popular H&M in New York doesn’t carry any large sizes.”

His suggestion to remedy this:

“That women refuse to shop in these stores or wear a designer’s clothes until the companies change their discriminatory practices against larger sized women.”

Bah!

Yes, I know I’m weight obsessed, but I think I speak for the majority of weight conscious women.

When you are thin, you like to wear clothes that flatter you and show off the figure you’ve worked so hard to attain (well, some people don’t need to work hard… but we who do have to work at it, hate them. But I digress.) Designer clothing uses higher quality fabrics, meaning that they last longer. This translates into more value for your dollar.

These labels also spend more time on fit, so their clothing flatters you more than the lower priced line clothing does. Which makes you feel better about yourself.

Bottom line, if you’re lucky enough to have a figure that fits into these labels, (and you can justify the money), you’ll usually end up buying them. Because, who isn't going to want to feel and look good in their clothes?

Buying expensive designer clothing also gives you motivation to stay thin. When you’ve spent $150+ on a pair of jeans that really flatter your bum, the way your bum currently looks, you are gonna do your damnedest to make sure they continue to fit and flatter. There’s nothing worse than putting on a pair of favorite jeans and having them feel too snug. I know I double my workout efforts when that happens. I’ve invested way too much money in these things to have them sit, unused in my closet.

So, while this is a nice thought, Neil:

“I know most women are caring and supportive of each other, and will be glad to show support for their heavier friends.”

It’s never gonna happen. We just like clothes that flatter us way too much to give them up for the greater good.

Now, if I could just figure out what my motivating factor is regarding my obsession for buying only overpriced, designer handbags.

The Letter T

2006-05-14T10:08:00.000-04:00

I got this meme from Some Girl.

(Just as an aside, I don't usually participate in meme's, but there's no tagging in this one, and it actually required some brain power on my part. )

Here’s how it works: Comment on this entry if you want to play along. Write ten words beginning with that letter in your blog along with an explanation of why you chose them, and then pass out letters to others who want to play along.

I got the letter T, so here's my ten for T.

Two – The most obvious reason for choosing this word is that I'm looking at my TWO beautiful boys that are hanging out watching TV in my bed right now.

Tenacious – Not only because it’s the name of Jack Black’s band (add a D and check ‘em out, they’re fabulous), but also because I’ve been feeling this way about myself recently. That’s not a bad thing.

Terrific – There are so many things in my life that are fantastic right now; I can say things are terrific.

Toes – Mine are so not as pretty as they should be right now, I really ~~need~~ want a pedicure!

Tasty – What Mother’s Day breakfast at Toast is going to be! Yum, I can’t wait.

Tea – The perfect beverage to curl up with on a rainy day. (And this weekend is chock full of them.) Add a good book and I’m all set for hours of relaxation.

(Just as an aside, this is quite difficult to accomplish when you’ve got Spongebob & Patrick goin' on in the background.)

Tension – When I first started spending more time with B, I was extremely tense. We attended a first Communion party together yesterday, as a family. The tension I've felt in prior situations is definitely dissipating. We had fun.

Talk – What B and I did on Friday, at lunch, about our expectations. It was a good conversation. I was very upfront with him about how much I was enjoying the time we are spending together as a family, and that I was frightened that if it didn’t work out between us, that it would disappear. He was equally as honest with me in telling me that if it didn’t work out between us, he doesn’t think he could continue to spend this much time together as a family. That it would feel like a lie to him. I can respect that. There was more, but now is not the time.

Back to the list.

Time – What we decided we have plenty of, in terms of figuring this out. There is no time- table in trying to get back together, we need to take our time and make sure everything is right.

Together – I have more confidence these days that this is where my family may end up. Back together.

So there ya go. Ten words that start with the letter T… Ah, Ah, Ah! (Y’all know I have a thing for The Count, it’s not like I haven’t admitted it already.)

Leave it in the comments if you want to play along.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the Mom’s out there. Have an AMAZING day!

Oh my fucking G-d!

2006-05-12T14:14:00.000-04:00

Yes, yes, I know, this is my third post today... BUT, I just found out that I have been chosen as one of the seven finalists in the Blogging for Books contest I entered with this post (me, little 'ol me!)

Holy fucking shit.

SQUEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

Yay me!

Favorite movie quotes Friday II

2006-05-12T09:33:00.000-04:00

Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life, son.

My advice to you is to start drinking heavily.

Could you describe the ruckus, sir?

Don't call me stupid.
Oh, right, to call you stupid would be an insult to stupid people! I've known sheep that could outwit you! I've worn dresses with higher I.Q.s!

We came. We saw. We kicked its ass!

Men are rats. Listen to me, they're fleas on rats. Worse than that, they're amoebas on fleas on rats.

Ex-squeeze me? Baking powder?

Fished in!

Oh, you’re not leaving are you?
No, uh, we’re walking in backwards.

Rock stars have kidnapped my son!

And this one time, at band camp…

I’m going to take a bath.
I’ll alert the media.

Hello! McFly!!

Girls with big tits have big asses. Girls with little tits have little asses. That's the way it goes. G-d doesn't fuck around, he's a fair guy. He gave the fatties big, beautiful tits and the skinnies little tiny niddlers. It's not my rule. If you don't like it, call him.

Is skirt off sick?

Anything traveling that far ought to have a damn stewardess on it, don’t you think?

What’s a Nubian?

Since you like chicks, right… do you just look at yourself naked in the mirror all the time?

But you hate people!
Yes, but I love gatherings. Ironic, isn’t it?

Are you trying to say capeesh? Well don’t. It hurts my ears when you do.

I fucked up.
Yeah, but you gave it 100% effort.

My dad’s got this awesome set of tools dude, we can fix it.

Sorry folks. Park’s closed. The moose out front shoulda told ya.

Will you quit feeling sorry for yourself? It’s bad for your complexion!

(C'mon, quote with me. Add your own into the comments.)

Be free

2006-05-12T07:45:00.000-04:00

I don’t want this blog to become "my therapy regurgitation". That’s no fun for anyone.

The thing is, there are so many buried memories coming to the surface during my weekly sessions. Writing about these things is helping me come to terms with the wounds that I’m still carrying around. What I'm hoping is that "coming to terms" translates into "moving forward. "

It’s not about "poor me," it’s more like, “be free.”

With that disclaimer out of the way, I’m going back to the past now. You’ve been warned.

__________________________________

“C’mon. It’s time to get up. Come with me.”

I let out a sigh. "Good morning to you too, mom" runs through my head, but I say nothing. I slowly pull myself out of the cocoon I fold myself into while I sleep, slide my feet to the floor and stand up.

I’ve already resigned myself to what’s going to happen next. It’s familiar; a routine at this point. I sort of shrug to myself and inwardly wonder what today’s number will be. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's not going to be good enough for her.

This was an everyday occurrence from ages 14 to 17. Every morning, from the time I was a freshman in high school until I left for my first year at college, the summer of 1984, it was the same thing. These were very awkward years for me, the years before I grew into my features. Became the person, appearance wise, that I was destined to be. This ritual went a long way in contributing to my lack of self esteem.

“Let’s go.”

I walk the four feet from my bedroom door to my parents’ as slowly as I possibly can.

My mother is already at her closet door, opening it, and pulling out the doctor’s scale that is housed inside.

“Get on. Let’s see where you are today.”

I remember on this particular morning, how I had tried to have a “conversation” with my mother the night before about how I had eaten too much. But it was okay, I explained, I found and took the Ex-Lax that was in the linen closet. That should help.

At the time, she didn’t acknowledge any part of this “conversation.” Didn’t make it clear that she knew I was crying out for help; crying out for the madness to stop. No. She continued to speak to my father, went about cleaning up the kitchen, like I hadn’t said a word.

I step on the scale. My mother starts fidgeting with the sliding bars. Trying to find the balance spot.

She finally finds it. I look down. So not where I wanted it to be. I look up. Yep. She’s glaring at me. I just look back into her eyes.

“Do you see that? Look at how fat you’re getting. Like an elephant. This keeps up and you’re not even going to be able to tuck your shirts in.”

I step off of the scale, back out of the closet. Inch away, slowly but surely. Eventually I make it out of her room and back into the safety of my own. Close the door. Escape for the moment; until tomorrow. When it all begins again.

__________________________________

The thing is, the weight that I was then, at 14/15, is the same weight that my body will naturally try to return to now at 39.

I’m happiest with myself when I weigh at least 10lbs less. But I can’t be healthy and be 10lbs lighter. In fact, I have to do fairly unhealthy things to achieve this.

The thing is, I don’t care, and I do them regardless.

I have two beautiful boys that I love, but I continue to do extremely unhealthy things in order to be, what I consider, thin.

I’m not fat 10lbs heavier. But, my self-image tells me that I am, and I believe it.

This number on a scale, it’s my trigger. I feel like I will never be able to look at this number and feel good about myself. It will always mean FAT. ELEPHANT. YOU CAN'T TUCK YOUR SHIRTS IN.

I don’t want to live this way anymore.

Mom knows about this. We’ve talked about it and she’s apologized. She’s completely cognizant of the fact that she’s done this to me; she feels bad.

But I still have this voice in my head that won’t go away. Just because she’s sorry doesn’t make the voice go away.

The voice that’s slowly eating away at me.

Hah.

Bad Robot

2006-05-11T09:05:00.000-04:00

For some reason, last night I decided it would be a good writing exercise to try and live blog the latest episode of LOST. Why? Hell if I know.

I’m totally addicted to this show. I spent one weekend, (the weekend I made the decision to see if I could put my family back together, which was also the weekend I deleted the blog), watching the entire first season. That’s right. I watched 24 episodes in ONE weekend. I was completely strung out on this show. I HAD to know what happened next. It was an addiction.

I never watched last year. But I kept hearing everyone going on and on about how amazing this show is. So, I threw the first two discs of Season 1 into my Netflix Queue figuring I’d check it out. I watched the entire first disc and one episode of the second Friday night into Saturday morning. By Saturday afternoon I finished Disc 2 and ran to Blockbuster to see if I could rent the rest. They only had Disc 3. Sure enough, Saturday evening I was in Best Buy to purchase the DVD’s so I could keep watching. I finished watching all six discs Sunday night at 8PM. 48 hours after I started Disc 1.

At this point, Season 2 was already 15 episodes in. You cannot pickup this show in the middle. You HAVE to watch from the beginning. I discovered Itunes had a Season Pass for the second season that I could purchase. YES. I could catch up.

Last week was the first time that I watched as it aired. The episode was fucking fantastic. I couldn’t wait for this week’s episode. I’m so lame, I was counting down; chatting with my brother Happy on a regular basis about what we thought was going to happen next.

Talk about a letdown. Last night’s episode was pretty damn lame. I fell asleep at the last commercial break, I was so bored. So for those of you worried that I may spoil you with this live blogging attempt, not so much.

______________________________________

Echo’s chopping wood. Heh heh heh… she said wood. (Okay inner Beavis, enough with you already!)

Why’s AnaL alive? Talking to Echo? Oh, blood’s coming out of her mouth. She's still with the dead.

(Now we have to deal with dream sequences on top of flashbacks? GAH!)

Echo’s talking to his dead brother. There are dead people talking to Echo all over the place. I see dead people? Is Bruce Willis here too?

Okay, Echo’s supposed to ask John about the question mark? Hey, continuity… go figure. Echo and his axe are gonna go see John. This can’t lead anywhere good.

Damn, Sawyer, you are so fucking hot. But, I digress.

Michael… you are one big fat liar. You shot them dude. Not Not-Henry. (Did I just double negative? Oh well.) Whoa, there’s carnage everywhere in the hatch. AnaL. Libby. Michael. Oh, wait. Michael you only shot yourself in the shoulder. You’re not carnage. Michael, you sooo fucked man. Libby’s still alive. She’s gonna rat you out for shooting her.

Echo’s praying. ‘Cause he’s a priest and shit. Yeah, I want him as my priest.

Libby? She’s so gonna die. Michael you’re lying through your ass. Someone’s gotta go find Not-Henry. Looky here. Echo and John are gonna do it. How convenient.

Echo’s taking confession? WTF?

Oh. Flashback. A Drug Dealer taking confession. And we wonder where the Catholic Church went wrong. Echo doesn’t believe this woman’s confession. But according to the Monsignor, that’s why he was chosen. Yeah. OK. I’m with the understanding this. NOT.

Back on the island. John and Echo together. Damn. Echo’s asking questions that John won’t answer. Look at that, now John’s unconscious. Do ya think he expected a priest to knock him out? I'm thinking not.

Fire pretty. Wait, isn't it: fire bad, tree pretty? (oops, wrong show. Buffy flashback.)

"You hit me. Are you insane?"

No. Someone needs to knock some sense into you John.

Echo and John around a campfire. Uh oh, we goin all Brokeback Mountain? Not so much. How about some answers then? Also, not so much. Oooh, the guilt. Echo tells John of the dream. AnaL wants them to follow John’s map.

Another flashback.

How do you find out someone’s not dead DURING the autopsy? When they start screaming that someone’s cutting into them. Dead giveaway.

Back to the island.

“Your map isn’t exact.” Ummm, you’re just figuring that out now? “What’s the axe for?” “I’m just figuring that out now.” Cool.

Back to the plane.

Oh. Boone was a sacrifice. One that the ISLAND demanded. Thanks for letting me know. I was worried he died for nothing.

Jack, Kate, Michael. Michael wants to know if Libby said anything. Dude. So covering your ass right now.

Ooh, Kate and Sawyer together.

Have I mentioned… Sawyer… So Fucking Hot! Freckles, you so need to get with that already.

Michael if Libby wakes up… your ass is grass. Kate wants to know “How did AnaL get your gun Sawyer?”

Ummm, By fucking him, dude! Something you should’ve done eons ago.

Wait, Sawyer’s got heroin as well as guns stashed under his bed? Damn! Didn’t see that coming… NOT.

Okay, we’re seeing more dead people. We’re used to that here by now.

Echo’s following his dead brother through the forest, up a cliff. Wait, he wakes up… falls off the cliff… (or did he fall and then wake up, I’m not sure) but, it’s John’s dream!

Okay, that's a little fucked up.

Echo and John need to come together. Up the cliff. Yeah, I’m a cripple, but I’ll climb a mountain. Well within the realm of reality.

Flashback now.

Zealot! I’m a fraud. (Who the fuck cares man? )

(I don’t.)

(Get me back to the island please.)

Oh yeah, there was or wasn’t a miracle. I’m not sure.

Echo’s climbing the mountain to get to…. what? John, who’s crippled, seems real good without his crutches… it’s a MIRACLE! Echo doesn’t see anything, but… wait… we see… there’s a PLANE!

We’re back, Echo’s sniffing dirt. It’s salt.

What Plane? More digging. And looky here… it’s another Hatch.

What a girl wants

2006-05-09T12:37:00.000-04:00

I finally sat down this morning to read the packet my therapist gave me last week. This packet was part of my homework assignment for tonight.

(Just as an aside, when it comes to homework, I procrastinate just as much now as I ever did in high school and college. I guess old habits do die hard.)

The packet is all about self-talk, imagery and responding to the self-defeating commentary in your head. Of course, my inner Beavis gets to the page about silencing the 'critical drill sergeant' and can’t stop laughing over the terminology they've coined to describe this behavior: 'Musterbating.'

(Heh heh heh… he said musterbating.)

It’s a little frightening how many of these inner criticisms listed on this one page have passed through my brain, though I most definitely have never had issue with this one:

“I must never masturbate, for it is sluttish and selfish, and I’m disgusting for even considering it.”

(I wonder what this person would think of my porn collection?)

(Heh heh heh... she said porn.)

The packet makes a lot of sense to me, and I had no problem reading it.

But… Ms. British always wants more from me. I can’t just read the packet and try to put what’s written there into practice. Nooooooo. I have to come up with a list of things I WANT that will make me happy.

I find this assignment very difficult. Because the things that I want, that I believe will make me happy, are so far out of reach they're really more like pipe dreams.

Such as what, you ask?

      1.  I want to own a house or condo in my town, preferably near the beach, or, better yet, one with water views.

Yah. Okay. Like that’s gonna happen. The CONDO price is $750.0, at minimum. House? Bah. Like I got a couple million bucks lying around. Take away the water views, you still have condo prices at $400+ and decent, non-tear down houses starting at $500.0.

With my current salary, I could afford a mortgage of about $350.0, which leaves me… shit outta luck.

Next.

      2.  I don’t fucking know!

I’ve never thought in terms of what I want. It’s always been about other people. What do they need? How will they be happy? This exercise is selfish! I can’t do it.

Yeah, yeah. I know, this mindset is what I’m supposed to be trying to change.

      2.  I still don’t fucking know!

I’m just going in there tonight and tell her that I don’t know. That I can stop musterbating, (but, definitely not masturbating) and silence my inner critic, but putting together this list is going to take me a little longer to accomplish.

Why the fuck can’t I do this?

      2.  To see my boysies everyday.

See, another impossibility. Unless, of course, B and I get back together. But, I’m not supposed to be doing that for the kids; that would be a "should". Should's are bad. I’m supposed to be doing that as something that I want and need. But I'm not ready to make that distinction yet.

Back to square one. (Or is it two?)

My head hurts. I can’t do this right now.

Oooh, time for birthday cake. Gotta run.

Expectations

2006-05-08T11:26:00.000-04:00

How did I not realize until this morning that yesterday was the anniversary of my wedding? (I know it’s not an anniversary anymore, but I’m not sure what else I should call it.)

What does that say about my psyche?

I spent a lot of time with B and the boysies this weekend. Mostly sports related; we had soccer and baseball games on Saturday, then another baseball game yesterday afternoon.

Even though it was B’s weekend with the boys, I took them back to my house after soccer Saturday to get them changed for baseball while B ran to pick up some sushi for us.

I was both annoyed ~~and~~… nah, honestly, I was just annoyed.

I really wanted a smokie after three hours of soccer, and I don’t smoke around the boys. This was putting off my smoke break for at least forty-five minutes. Plus, the boys were tired and cranky. Saturday was the first warm day that we've had since the spring soccer season started; running for an hour and a half in the heat had definitely taken it's toll. Their constant whining attested to that fact.

(Just as an aside, having soccer end at 1:15 and baseball begin at 2:00… FUN times!)

The thing was, I knew how nice it was for B to go pick up and pay for our sushi. How could I tell him: "No, I’ll go pick up the sushi and you drive all the way back to your house (in the next town) to change the boys."

I also knew if I took the boys to my house they would have a few minutes to sit and relax before heading to their game as opposed to rushing into B’s house, madly changing, and getting right back into the car to rush back to the field.

I tried to get over it, but, I had little success. By the time B got to my house with the sushi, I had very little patience left and no desire to sit down at the table to eat with him.

So, I didn’t.

To his credit, he took it in stride. He made small talk with me, chatted up the boys, and rounded them up to take them over to the field a few minutes early so that I could call my mom back and have my smoke break.

It’s this kind of situation where I see the biggest change in B’s behavior and reactions.

And, that’s so not of the bad.

Immediately following baseball, I had plans to go out with my two mom friends from my town, Quincy and Kat. Kat’s boys are on the same baseball team as Big Guy and Little Dude, so when the game ended, we left the kids with the men and headed to Quincy’s house to pick her up for our planned evening of shopping and dinner.

Yesterday, L & I went for breakfast, I took my walk, ran some errands and pulled up to the baseball field promptly at 4pm for the game. Quincy, Kat and I sat together, cheered our kids on and chatted while the men coached (Quincy’s boys played our boys last night… we won, heheheh.)

As I was walking back to the car with B and the boys after the game, Little Dude asked if I was coming to dinner with them. Then Big Guy chimed in, “please, please, please… can you come too?”

I looked at B questioningly.

“After all the conversation about the buffet this weekend, I promised them Chinese food after the game. Would you like to come with us?”

I did.

Again, as we’ve had recently, it was a perfectly lovely time. The boys are so fucking happy when we’re together; it’s hard for that to not rub off on your own mood.

During dinner, B mentioned that he’d be happy to make a reservation for Mother’s Day brunch next week. As of this writing, he’s already made reservations at two different restaurants for me to choose from.

We’ve got plans to go to lunch this week to talk about expectations. It's really the first time we are going out alone since we started talking.

Should be interesting.

My love affair...

2006-05-07T19:30:00.000-04:00

With the ocean.

At first glance, seemingly peaceful, calm and serene. Yet, hiding underneath is something amazingly strong that could tear you apart in seconds.

Have you ever watched a storm roll in over the ocean? It's an unbelievably powerful sight to behold.

I love the ocean's hidden strength. It brings me renewed power and belief in myself.

I've commented to many people in my life that the ocean is my therapy. It's what helps me keep my sanity living here as a single mom, in this ridiculously puritanical, judgemental town (Yes, I heard you already Grumpy. "The ocean is NOT therapy, therapy is therapy." But I digress.)

I'm having a bad day? I need a break from everyday stresses? I need to clear my head? I need to gain new perspective on an old problem? I need to relax? I just want to be outside?

I head to Sandy Beach and park my ass in front of the Atlantic for a while. It works every time. If I'm feeling sad and alone, happiness reappears and loneliness quells as I sit and watch the swells (though, this is New England, so, not so much with the swells mostly.)

As I sit and mull over problems, it's as if my troubles magically wash out to sea with the tide. And then I feel ready to move forward and tackle whatever it was that was bringing me down.

If that's not a form of therapy, I don't know what is.

Wonderful views

2006-05-07T15:54:00.000-04:00

What a beautiful day. I took a seven mile walk around my town today, along the coastline. This is the view from Sandy Beach, my town's private beach and my saving grace. I also saw a swan in one of the alcoves, but by the time I got back with my camera he was gone.

Gotta run to baseball, but I'll be back later to write.

Favorite movie quotes Friday

2006-05-05T11:37:00.000-04:00

Badges? We don’t need no stinkin’ badges!

If we win! Ha! Even if we play so far over our heads... that our noses bleed for a week to ten days... even if G-d in heaven above... comes down and points his hand at our side of the field... even if every man, woman and child... held hands together and prayed for us to win... it just wouldn't matter... because all the really good looking girls would still go out with the guys from Mohawk, ‘cause they’ve got all the money!

Inconceivable!
You keep using that word -- I do not think it means what you think it means.

Let me put it this way: have you ever heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates?
Yes.
Morons.

Let me explain -- no, there is too much. Let me sum up.

I'll explain. And I'll use small words so that you'll be sure to understand, you warthog faced buffoon.

If you guys know so much about women, how come you're here at like the Gas 'n Sip on a Saturday night completely alone, drinking beers, no women anywhere?
Choice, man.

Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable, or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?

I'm real sorry your mom blew up, Ricky.

Two dollars. I want my two dollars!

Strange things are afoot at the Circle K.

I'm the Dude. So, that's what you call me. You know, that, or his dudeness, or duder, or el duderino, if you're not into the whole brevity thing.

Does Barry Manilow know that you raid his wardrobe?

Licensed to kill gophers by the government of the United Nations. Man... free to kill gophers at will.

A flute with no holes is not a flute. And, a doughnut with no hole is a Danish.

There's a million fine looking women in the world, dude. But, they don't all bring you lasagna at work. Most of 'em just cheat on you.

There's nothing more exhilarating than pointing out the shortcomings of others, is there?

I'm a firm believer in the philosophy of a ruling class. Especially since I rule.

Pardon my French, but Cameron is so tight that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks you'd have a diamond.

Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast?

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

I'm telling you to shut up! I'll tell your recorder so that you don't forget. Hello, this is Chuck to remind Bill to shut up!

This. This is ice. This is what happens to water when it gets too cold. This. This is Kent. This is what happens to people when they get too sexually frustrated.

We're soldiers, but we're American soldiers! We've been kicking ass for 200 years! We're 10-and-1!

Owen doesn’t have any friends.

Hee.

(Feel free to add your own in the comments if you so desire. C'mon, you know you want to.)

Parenting 101. Or, what my mom forgot.

2006-05-04T20:18:00.000-04:00

I learned a lot from my mother. Specifically, how not to parent.

It’s not that she didn’t teach me things that helped me in a positive way, ie: responsibility, empathy, honesty, the value of education, to name a few. But, when I reflect on my childhood, I do not have many happy memories.

That is the one thing I knew I would do differently when I had my own children. They would have plenty of happy times to look back on. I was going to make sure of it. Hell, I took four years of child pyschology to prove my mom wrong and to learn how to do it right.

I don’t claim to be a perfect mom. I’m far from it. I lose my patience, scream and yell, but there is always forgiveness when it’s done. A hug and kiss to say it’s okay, I lost my shit, but I love you. I might not always love your behavior, but I always love YOU.

That’s what my mom forgot to do. She forgot to tell me that it was my behavior she disapproved of, not me.

That's why I have a tendency to beat myself up over things.

When I mess up, make a mistake; I will mull it over and over in my head for days. How could’ve I been so stupid? I should’ve known better. And I have a very hard time letting go of these feelings. There are certain things that have been hanging around for years (my head, not so much a fun place to be sometimes.)

I don’t want to pass this trait along to my sons. I will do everything in my power not to. They are much too precious to end up not believing in themselves.

Into the great wide open

2006-05-04T10:11:00.000-04:00

June 21st.

Tweeter Center.

L & I.

2 Lawn Tickets.

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers!!

Sweet.

If it's not one thing...

2006-05-03T20:38:00.000-04:00

It's another.

The house I've been renting for the past four years, the house that has FINALLY become a home for the boysies and I, has been put up for sale. It's a two family house, we live in the top half, and have become quite comfortable here. We are walking distance to town, the library, even the beach (given about forty minutes.)

Four years ago is when I kicked B out. We were living in this town, but in a different house. A short time after I kicked him out, the owners called me to ask if I wanted to renew the lease. Being the honest person that I am, I filled them in on the current situation, assured them that I was more than able to fufill my obligations regarding the rent. Two days later they called back to tell me that, actually, they would be needing their house back as they were moving back from Dallas.

As it turns out, they lied. They just didn't want me, a single mom, living in their house. That's the kind of puritanical people that live in this town. They don't believe that a single mom could possibly NOT be white trash. That I couldn't possibly just be an upstanding citizen that only wants to take care of her kids and provide the best for them. But I digress.

The realtor handling the sale of this house had assured me that any potential buyer was going to be very happy that I'm here. I am guaranteed rental income for them. This is considered a "rental property" and I am "insurance" that they will have at least one tenant when they buy (the downstairs has been empty for just about a year now, hence the putting the house up for sale.)

Not so much the case with the buyer that came by this evening. He seems to want the house for himself and his family. He wants to somehow convert it into a one family dwelling so that he can have an upscale address for a low budget cost.

At least that's the read I got off of him, and I'm pretty damn good at reading people.

Looks like I might be looking for new digs.

Working in my favor though, the rental market is wide open right now. Who knows, I might even end up with a better deal.

At least I hope so.

Blogging for books

2006-05-03T12:46:00.000-04:00

I've entered my post Baby steps into the Blogging for books contest.

I found the link this morning on Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda and went to investigate; it turns out the blog contest is to write about cheating. Any kind of cheating.

I was like, hey, I already did that.

So, before I could stop myself with the WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?! thought, I posted the link.

Not that I expect to win or anything, but this relates to the new homework assignment I was given in therapy last night. I'm supposed to be replacing my negative thoughts about myself with positive ones.

Thinking that random, anonymous people, as well as Kim Ponders (who wrote the book The Art of Uncontrolled Flight) might enjoy my writing is pretty damn positive for me.

Dontcha think?

(could I include any more hyperlinks in this short post?)

One track mind

2006-05-02T12:50:00.000-04:00

I suppose that I shouldn’t be complaining that Big Guy loves school and is totally conscientious about his schoolwork. But I was certainly not happy about it yesterday morning.

We had a really full weekend of activities. The boysies were exhausted by the time they finished their baseball game Sunday evening. It was my plan to get them into bed by 7:30pm Sunday night; it was probably more like 8:00 when I turned out the light and closed the door.

Just as an aside, can I just say how much I adore the goodnight routine we have? After we read our stories, and it’s time for goodnight hugs and kisses, the boysies each have me give them ten kisses. In between each one I have to count them while doing my best The Count (Sesame Street) impression, including the ending “ah, ah, ah.” It makes them giggle, and leaves me with a smile on my face each and every time.

Anyhoo, back to yesterday morning. Big Guy’s biggest worry when he went to sleep Sunday night was if he would be allowed to watch Sports Center in the morning to see the Yankee highlights (this boy is soooo his father’s son, but I digress.) I promised that when he came to wake me up in the morning I would let him turn it on then (yes, he is my alarm clock.)

6:05AM: Like clockwork, Big Guy is at my side asking me if he could turn on the television. I beg him for fifteen more minutes.

6:20AM: “Mommy, now?”

“Fine.”

I drag my ass out of bed and into the kitchen to start the morning routine (which is so not as much fun as the bedtime routine) of getting the boysies’ lunches ready, getting them breakfast, getting them dressed (or at least picking out their clothes, they can get themselves dressed, even though Little Dude would prefer me to believe he can’t) making sure their backpacks have everything they need, and then finally trying to get myself ready to walk out the door (can you understand why I’ve forgone makeup lately?)

I’m about ten minutes into trying to get this accomplished; all of a sudden I hear loud, hysterical crying coming from my room. Ooookaaayyy….

“The highlights didn’t come on yet! He changed the channel! You promised me I could see the highlights!

It seems that Little Dude had changed the channel at 6:30 to his favorite PBS morning show. He didn’t say anything first, just walked up to the cable box and did his thing.

This did not sit well with his big brother.

I tried to remind Big Guy that I had promised him he could watch Sports Center until 6:30, and then we would put on Caillou for Little Dude. The same routine we have EVERY morning.

Big Guy could just not let this go. He worked himself up into a nice little frenzy. And no matter how much I tried to get him to pull himself together, he was having none of it. He was gonna be hysterical dammit!

Twenty minutes later I was still having no luck calming him down. Then it clicked.

“Big Guy, what time did you wake up?”

Sheepish look. “In the 4’s.” (this is Big Guy speak for 4AM.)

I put my hand to his forehead. Sure enough, he was running a fever.

“Buddy, you’re not going to school today. Let’s get you back into your jammies and you can get into my bed.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I WANNA GO TO SCHOOL!!!"

“Buddy, there’s no way I’m letting you go to school. You have a fever, you’re exhausted and you haven’t been able to do anything but cry since you woke up.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I WANNA GO TO SCHOOL!!!"

“I’m going to call my boss right now and tell her that I’m not coming in, that you’re sick and I have to stay home with you.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I WANNA GO TO SCHOOL!!!"

I pick up the phone and dial, all the while Big Guy is crying and screaming in the background.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I WANNA GO TO SCHOOL!!!"

In the message I left, I first apologize to my boss for the crying and screaming that she can obviously hear in the background, and then explain that I won’t be coming in today.

I hang up the phone, come out of the locked bathroom (otherwise Big Guy was coming after me to steal the phone from my hands) and look Big Guy in the eye.

“Done. You might as well go change into your jammies now.”

“Bu.. bu.. but mommy…. If I don’t go to school, how am I going to get my spelling words for the week? And tomorrow… I’m going to have two pages of spelling, two pages of math… An… an… and my reading log…. (sniffle, sniffle.)”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll call Mrs. B and ask her to send your homework home with Little Dude. Does that help?”

Head nod. He turns and walks into his room. He emerges, back in his jammies.

“Can I watch Sports Center at 8 o’clock to see the Yankee highlights?”

I have no brain...

2006-05-02T08:54:00.000-04:00

I can’t believe I forgot to do this.

I want to say a monster thank you to Amy for the shout out and sending so many new people my way. And, if you haven't read her, you should go here and read... she's 'mazing.

To all the newbies…

Welcome. Take a look around, get comfie. And feel free to say hey.

A new look

2006-05-01T14:42:00.000-04:00

Was anyone else sick of the pink?

The blog was starting to remind me of Pepto-Bismol every time I opened up the page and Pepto makes me vomit, so... you do the math.

I spent today scouring the net for blogger templates (very productive day, dontcha think?) and while this is one of blogspot's standards, I think it fits both my mind and personality.

What do y'all think? You like?

I hope it doesn't make you think of vomit.

Hee.

~~ETA: If blogger EVER lets me publish again I'm left justifying the post text. I do not like it to the right (I do not like green eggs and ham, I do not like them Sam I Am.)~~

Oops, I did it again!

2006-04-29T22:34:00.000-04:00

8:30PM Friday: The boysies are tucked all snuggly in their beds, I make myself a dirty martini and settle into my own bed, in front of my TV, laptop at the ready next to me. Fairly standard occurrence when I’m home with them.

Since I had mixed my martini in my fabulous pink mini croc cocktail shaker that E got me for my birthday, I deemed an actual martini glass a necessity for the impending consumption.

Just as an aside, I am a troubled sleeper. My brain enjoys working overtime, and it refuses to shut down at a reasonable hour in order for me to get my required eight hours. While I know it is not the healthiest of remedies, I do tend to consume alcohol in the evenings to help facilitate slumber. Also, I like to drink.

10:59PM: Since just one is never an option, I’m on my third martini when I post this. After I hit publish, I turn, grab my martini glass off of my night table and turn back towards my laptop.

11:00PM: Disaster strikes. Grey Goose and olive juice slosh over the side of my martini glass, STRAIGHT into my waiting keyboard.

FUCK!

Another aside: Those of you that have been reading for a while know, I’ve been here before. But last time it was red wine and I had an excuse.

Flashback: January 5, 2006

Big Guy, who was supposedly sleeping, unexpectedly opened my bedroom door, because he was not so much with the sleeping, and scared the ever-loving shit out of me. Red wine, from the glass in my hand, flew about the room, all over my BEIGE duvet cover as well as INTO my WORK laptop keyboard.

I sopped up the red wine from my lappie and duvet cover, but the lappie still went phzzzt about twenty minutes later. I slunk into work the next day with my tail between my legs and confessed to the head of IT. He, being of the cool variety, totally fucked with my head, but had the laptop powered up again within minutes of my confession. Then he had me SWEAR I would never drink around the lappie again.

How soon we forget.

(But, it’s not my fault. He left the company about two weeks later due to our impending new-mommy.)

Back to Friday night.

11:03PM: I know what’s coming. I try to stop it. Initial panic over, I dry the keyboard, turn the laptop over to drain anything that might be hiding, turn my hairdryer on and blow hot air directly at it and power down. No phzzzt yet. Maybe I saved it.

11:30PM: Had phone sex with The Player to porn (damn my hormones!) (but I digress.)

12:00AM: Sleep.

6:35AM: Try and power this baby up. This baby was not having any of it.

DEAD. As a doornail, I tell ya.

Did I mention… FUCK?!

(Another aside, there’s no way that I can tell them at work… I did it again.)

(Yet another aside, did I mention, today we have the annual baseball parade at 8AM, soccer from 10:15 to 1:15 and a baseball game from 2 till 4? I don’t have time for this!!!)

6:36AM: I’m FREAKING out.

7:20AM: B calls. I remember that he has a computer contact. I tell him what happened; tell him that I NEED his help. Oh, you’re at the front door? I’ll be right down to open that up for you. I’m still freaking out. Ooh, you brought me coffee. Awesome!

7:25AM: OK. He’ll call his computer guy when he opens at 9 and see if he can bring it in for me. I’m still freaking out.

9:30AM: Parade and Opening Ceremonies… done. Go back to the house to ready the boysies for soccer, give B the dead laptop. I’m trying to control the freak-out.

9:35AM: He’ll call me with any updates, meet us at the soccer field when he’s done. I’m still freaking out.

10:30AM: B’s computer genius tells him that he’s got no techs there today, set it up under a heat lamp, try the hair dryer again, it should dry out and power up in a day or so. I’m a bit less with the freak-out.

11:00AM: B finally makes it to the soccer field. He’s in time for Big Guy’s game, Little Dude’s practice and game. He hands me my still DEAD laptop. I decide to open it up in the reflected sun in the back of my car to dry up. I’m trying to control the freak-out.

1:15PM: Little Dude’s game is done (they won 12-1, WOO-HOO!) and we head home to change for baseball. I need to deal; need to deal.

1:30PM: I melt my keyboard with my hairdryer; buttons for letters C, F, and M fall off the laptop completely.

1:31PM: I FREAK the FUCK out again!!!

1:50PM: B comes by with Chinese soup and shao-mai and takes the boysies to the baseball field while I make phone calls regarding the dead laptop and smoke ciggies. All the while… FREAKING OUT!!!

1:55PM: I call CompUSA in Braintree. I tell Phil the whole story, the entire, embarrassing mess of a story, including the history. He tells me they might be able to help me, that they are open until 9:30 tonight and from 11 to 6 tomorrow. It’ll cost me $150 to sign the lappie in if they are busy, but if they are not, they can work on it for nothing. Their non-busiest times will be from about 7:30pm tonight until close, and as close to opening time tomorrow. I’m still FREAKING out.

2:10PM: I head for the baseball field, yep, still FREAKING out.

4:00PM: Boysies and I are home, they are watching Shaggy DA, I am putting together dinner for them… still FREAKING out.

6:00PM: Dinner and Shaggy DA are over. I shepard the boysies into the car and drive them the 30 minutes to CompUSA. FREAKING out.

6:30PM: CompUSA. Matt asks if he can help me. I tell him that I spoke to Phil earlier and I think they can help me. He tells me, heh, yeah, he heard the story already. I wave my hand at him and say “Yeah, that’s me. And, I’m kinda FREAKING out!”

6:35PM: Matt takes the lappie and says “Let me try something.”

6:45PM: Matt comes back out and asks for my power source, says “Let me try this another way.”

6:46PM: FUCK! More FREAKING out on my part.

6:55PM: Matt brings out the lappie, tells me that he can’t help me with replacing the keyboard, he's not sure, but there might be something wrong with the battery, and then... POWERS me up.

6:56PM: OK. CALM.

7:00PM: The battery just needs charging. No, I don’t owe him any money. I can order a new keyboard for $61.00 from HP. END freak out. I LOVE Matt.

7:05PM: Boysies and I head home.

8:30PM: I start writing this on fucked up keyboard.

10:30PM: I finally finish writing this on fucked up, need to replace keyboard and post.

10:31PM: I make a martini and back the fuck away from the fucked up keyboard.

10:32PM: NOTE: Matt from CompUSA, you totally rock dude. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I still need a new keyboard for my laptop, but at least my laptop is working.

10:33PM: Freak out officially over.

Guilty disclaimer

2006-04-28T22:59:00.000-04:00

I do NOT smoke around my children.

This is a mutually exclusive indulgence.

The Smoking Donkey

2006-04-28T11:13:00.000-04:00

I just bought this for L and I. Isn't he cute? The ciggies come out of his bum!

Just one of those things I had to have I guess. I hope L likes it too. If anything, she'll laugh her ass off. Hee.

You think my shopping addiction has spiraled out of control?

I'm warning you, there's no funny here.

2006-04-27T15:58:00.000-04:00

I’ve been avoiding writing about my last therapy session only because I know it’s not going to be in the least bit funny. But, I need to expunge some of what’s been traversing my brain since Tuesday night.

So, consider yourselves forewarned. There is no funny here. Funny is on mini-break. We will return to our regularly scheduled programming tomorrow.

< /disclaimer>

Ms. Britain had warned me during our first session that this process was not going to be an easy one. In order to be successful at improving my self worth, I would need to unearth painful memories; bring them to the forefront of my consciousness. Come to terms with them and move forward.

You mean I can’t just continue my self-proclaimed ostrich-like behavior and avoid this at all costs?

As it turns out… Ms. Britain is not so much with the letting me do that.

The core of our discussion Tuesday was regarding my fear of ending up alone. The apprehension I feel because I believe I might be attempting to restore my marriage for this very reason. My belief, if I don’t get back together with B, I am destined to spend my life alone.

“Why?”

“I have two kids. I’ve dated enough to know that most men consider them baggage. I obviously don’t, but they do.”

“You couldn’t see yourself with someone who already has children as well?”

“It’s been four years, if that was going to happen, don’t you think it would’ve already?”

“Let’s talk about your childhood. Tell me what it was like growing up in your house. Specifically, your relationship with your mother.”

I think I gave one of those sarcastic, thru your nose, laughs at that point. Because, in retrospect, it is just laughable how bad some of these memories are. Though they are not in the slightest bit funny.

“Well, my mom always managed to not be speaking to me during major events in my life. Her form of punishment was the silent treatment. It could go on for weeks at a time. I think the longest period of time was a month straight. She wasn’t speaking to me at my prom, high school graduation, college graduation… she even stormed out of my wedding and didn’t speak to me at brunch the next day or for a month after we returned from the honeymoon.”

“What do you mean by silent treatment? How far did that go?”

“I wasn’t allowed to participate in any family activities, including meals. I had to wait until everyone was finished, dinner was cleaned up, and she was in her room before I could make myself something. If I walked into a room she was in, she would leave. If I tried to speak to her, she’d turn her back on me.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Invisible. Like I didn’t exist. That I wasn’t important.”

“Was there any physical abuse?”

“No. My mother preferred alternative methods of discipline. I always knew I was in trouble if my bedroom door was closed when I got home from school. If she was mad at me, or my room was not perfect, she would empty out every drawer, every article of clothing from the closet and dump it into the middle of the room. I had a certain amount of time to clean it up, and if it wasn’t finished, or wasn’t to her standards, we’d start again.”

“So, how did you deal with your mom growing up?”

“I hid a lot. I’d go to “sleep” before they got home from work. I spent an inordinate amount of time in my room reading. I was always grounded anyway; it wasn’t like I could go anywhere.”

“What did you feel towards your mom? Was it fear?”

“That. Hatred. I wanted to escape. And I never understood what was wrong with me for her to treat me like that. Why couldn’t I live up to her expectations?”

“Did you ever tell anyone? Did you think this was normal?”

“It was my mom. You were supposed to sit down, shut up and do what she said. If not, there were consequences. You didn’t question. And if you fought back, you got punished. End of story.”

There was more, but if anyone is still reading, I’ll spare you the details.

Bottom line is that I really believe that my fear of being alone is derived from the fact that I spent so much of my childhood alone. It didn’t make me happy; it made me very sad.

And now, many times when I’m alone, (the boysies are with B, I’m alone in my house) I am overwhelmed by the sadness, the emptiness that I feel.

I just want that feeling to go away. I want to finally feel comfortable in my own skin, being by myself.

Is that too much to ask?

NO IT’S NOT!

Right?

Random thoughts

2006-04-27T10:33:00.000-04:00

This morning why, in order to get a better whiff of the curious odor I believe is emanating from my car, did I feel the need to turn down the radio? Did I believe that this is going to magically improve my olfactory performance?

Am I driving around, unbeknownst to me, with a sign on the top of my car that says: Please, aggressively cut me off and then proceed to drive five miles an hour in front of me for the next ten miles?

Is it possible that the plastic H20+ water bottles the boysies love to bring into the car are multiplying? Kind of like rabbits?

Oh, and I was wrong. My pittance of a raise will cover my gas expenses… if I only had to fill my tank every TWO weeks. Too bad that’s not within the realm of reality.

Round and round she goes, where she stops...

2006-04-26T19:56:00.000-04:00

Nobody knows.

Certainly not me.

(I originally wrote this in December, but it was deleted with the “old blog.” It’s now updated with the new fun below.)

Oh, the merry-go-round my career has become since relocating to Massachusetts.

In NYC, I was the golden girl. Promoted out of Federated Merchandising into an assistant buyer position at Bloomindales in ONE year. When they promoted me, I was actually given a choice as to where I would like to go. That NEVER happens, but it happened to me.

So, I start my job at Bloomies. Hard work, perseverance and being in the right place at the right time got me promoted to a full buyer in ONE year. Again, this rarely happens at a corporation like Bloomies, but my talent as a merchant was recognized and rewarded.

Well, rewarded with promotions rather than money. Bloomies is known for being cheap. Especially with it’s homegrown talent. The worst raise I ever received in my life was after six months as an assistant buyer for them. Hell, I actually took a slight pay decrease to take the assistant buyer job! A step back to take many steps forward is what I thought at the time, and for the most part, I was right.

I was a buyer there for five years. In the handbag division, (sigh) which is where my addiction for all things Fendi, Prada, Marc Jacobs, et al was born. But after five years and no further growth opportunity arising, I got antsy. See, the handbag buyers in my division were the ol’ timers. Years and years under their belts, very happy in their current positions, and they showed no intention of giving up their jobs.

I get the call one day; asking if I’d be interested in interviewing with a company outside Boston.

Sure.

Long story short… Filenes Basement wants me to buy handbags for them. They are trying to reinvent themselves and want me, along with all of my designer contacts. They wine and dine me. Bring B and I to Boston for the weekend to make me an offer. $20.0 raise. $10.0 signing bonus. Six figures?!? NICE! Wait... they’ll also pay for the move and packing. They’ll help us find a place to live.

The whole nine yards baby.

Just as an aside, at this time in our married life, B had decided that his lot in life was to throw in the towel and go to work driving a van delivering car batteries for a high school friend. So this way he could wear jeans every day, as well as spend all day doing batties (yeah, he’s Jewish – can you believe?!) He had been doing this for just about five years and was truly miserable being treated like shit on a daily basis, but refused to do anything about it because his friend “relied” on him.

Well, this was my way of getting us out. I took the job. We moved. B was none too happy about it, but considering my salary supported us for the most part, it really wasn’t his place to complain. Though, he did anyway.

Thus started the merry-go-round.

The Basement filed Chapter 11 six months after I took the job, eliminated my job three months after that (oh yeah, I was six months pregnant with Little Dude at the time of the lay off... fun times!)

Next.

I went to work for another Boston based retailer. Then... they decided to pack up and move their offices to Charlotte N.C. to save money. I was offered a relocation package, but I figured if I felt like a fish out of water in New England, I could only imagine how much worse it would be in Charlotte.

Next.

I go to work selling for an old friend who manufactures belts in NYC. I fly to the city five times a year for market week, work out of my home, and handle all of his top accounts, including my old stomping grounds (and job) Bloomies. Well, belt business turns south, as it has a tendency to do, and my boss/friend decides that he really needs someone in the city to handle the day to day nuances of handling such major accounts.

Say it with me people…

NEXT!

It takes me NINE weeks to get a new job (yes, I was a single mom at this point...MORE fun times!) The job I currently have. The one I’ve had for just over three years now. Which for the most part, is pretty damn awesome.

I get the flexibility I need regarding the boys, their school, and life in general as a single mom. I don’t have to travel. I get to play with pretty product, analyze and run the business. The team I work with is great; we all play well together.

I get to work yesterday to find out that the rumors have come to fruition. We’ve been sold. Purchased by another specialty retailer who plans to leave us intact, but help us find the profitability and growth we’ve been missing these last two years.

I’m trying to stay positive. Really I am. But if my past job experiences in this state are any indication…

I left NYC… why?

So, it’s now the end of April. Our almost new-mommy company has been in our offices on a daily basis for about two months. Analyzing our business; sorting out the loose ends. Figuring out who stays and who goes. The company is throwing a "retirement" party for the EVP of Stores next Monday (think he's going? < /sarcasm> )

I’m pretty confident that I'll have a job after the deal goes through next week. Our division is held in high regard, we are the ones who actually UNDERSTAND the business. And our almost new-mommy company has never been able to keep anyone in my current position.

So, life goes on as usual. Day to day business; meetings galore. I had my review today. The Company average is a 3% increase.

BALLS.

Will that even cover my gas for the next year? I’m thinking… NOT.

But, I'll count the blessings. Awesome review with raise (albeit average, but at least not under the average.) I have a job, as well as a severance package that has been approved by our soon to be new-mommy. Hopefully it won’t be implemented.

I guess I’ll find out next week.

Think I should hold my breath?

The best laid plans...

2006-04-25T12:44:00.000-04:00

Sometimes go awry.

I wasn’t planning on speaking to The Player again. I figured after I blew him off Saturday, he’d figure out that I’m just not that into him.

As is usual in my life, not so much the case.

I had the boysies last night, and while we were reading stories before bedtime The Player called and left a message. I didn’t even hear the phone ring. Imagine my surprise walking back into my room and seeing the blinking yellow light. I really didn’t think it would be from him either. Then I played it.

I had to call him back. He sounded like such a lost puppy on my machine I felt bad. And then, there I am, yet again, listening to him complain about his job.

Stop complaining already dude… do something about it! You’re forty-four years old. Grow a pair!

Then, in one breath he tells me he doesn’t want to crowd me, and with the next, asks me what I’m doing tonight. Did I want to grab a drink or something? Aaauuugggghhhh!

At least I was nice about not making plans. I told him that I have my appointment tonight and I didn’t remember if it was at 6:30 or 7:30 (LIAR!)

That bought me a little time at least.

Why do I feel bad about this? Just tell him that this isn’t working for me, and leave it at that, right?

I think it’s because I’m too nice.

That’s actually number 5 on my list of validating statements about myself. That I’m nice.

Maybe it isn’t such a positive after all.

Heh.

Baby steps

2006-04-24T13:26:00.000-04:00

“Remember how I said I'd rather be with someone for the wrong reasons, than alone for the right ones? I'd rather be right. It's gonna feel good to stand on my own.” Amanda Jones – Some Kind of Wonderful (1987)

I woke up this morning with that quote stuck in my head. It’s taken up residence; made itself quite comfortable in fact. I can tell, it’s not planning on moving out anytime soon.

Yet, the idea of being alone is something that I’ve always been frightened of. Have tried to avoid at all costs in my life… possibly including trying to get back with B?…

Hmmm.

“A woman is supposed to be married.”

I wonder how old I was when I first heard that statement from my mom. Probably the year after I graduated college. That’s when I also heard this gem…

“You’re twenty-four years old. Can’t you find a boy to marry you? What’s wrong with you?” (Ahhh, Jewish mothers… ‘nuff said)

I know WHY I’ve made the choices I’ve made. That’s very clear to me. But therapy is supposed to be teaching me to go down a different path. One in which I have the confidence to stand on my own and feel secure. Not to seek out companionship for fear of being alone.

That concept is so contrary to what’s been entrenched in my brain for as long as I can remember. Yet, maybe, I am starting to feel more comfortable with it. Maybe my confidence is building in the right direction.

Which gives me the perfect segue to my homework assignment.

I’m ashamed to admit I cheated.

Not on purpose! Really. It just happened.

The night L and I went to dinner we discussed the relevance of this particular project. I still did not understand how saying “I’m a good person” was going to help me. She disagreed, and explained her reasoning. So I told her I’d give it a shot.

Understand L wants me to do this on my own, for my own good. So, she gave me no help whatsoever. I managed to come up with three (one of which I promptly forgot due to a small indulgence we partook of earlier in the evening, and spent the better part of dinner going “Number 2… What was number 2?! I know there was a number 2!!”... but I digress.)

I’m a good friend.

I’m a strong person.

I’m smart.

That’s where I got stuck. I panicked; started to have these weird thoughts. Like, I was totally conceited and I need to stop this now. I looked at L.

“Okay, I’m done for now. Baby steps. K?”

L assured me I had nothing to worry about. I came up with three not two days after being told to do this. I had plenty of time to come up with two more. I could do it.

Flash forward to Saturday night. I’m finally catching up with my friend Quincy Girl, and I’m filling her in about my therapy, the homework I have and that I’ve come up with three thus far.

“Oh, that’s so easy. I can name ten great things about you right now.”

And before I could stop her, she proceeded to do just that.

So now I feel like I cheated.

Because I did agree with a couple of things she said, and I’m going to use them.

Baby steps people, baby steps.

Game over

2006-04-23T20:57:00.000-04:00

So I’m pretty much done with The Player. He’s not holding my interest at all outside of the bedroom, and there’s only so much sex one can have (did I just say that?!)

He came over Friday night with Mexican food and a twelve pack. We hung out, had a little food and watched a movie. He entertains me when I’m drinking, it’s just when I’m sober that we have a problem. And that’s what Saturday morning showed me. We just had nothing to say to each other that hadn’t already been said. It was awkward. Weird.

Add to that, the fact that he had his first beer of the day at 9:30 in the morning… dude. I’ve already hung out with the functional alcoholic, and that ended up with him breaking into my house one night after I locked him out because it was more important to him to drink and play pool than hang out with me. I’m so not going down that road again. Sorry, been there, done that.

Next.

Or maybe not.

I’ve been thinking that while I’m doing the therapy thing maybe I shouldn’t be dating. Especially considering what I’m also considering.

Anyhoo, back to Saturday morning. The Player tells me that he has some things to take care of (the first hint I was done with this was that my first thought was thank G-d you’re leaving… yay!), asked if I wanted him to cook dinner later (we decided on shrimp), and left saying I should call him after I was done with my haircut and errands.

After he left I watched the end of the episode of Lost I was watching when he showed up last night and was just totally relishing my space. L ends up calling me about a half an hour later wondering if I was interested in going out for breakfast (hell yeah!)

Breakfast was awesome. We went halfsies on the salmon benedict and eggs w/corned beef hash and were quite pleased. (Just as an aside, L & I have been searching for over a year for a new breakfast place since our favorite stopped doing breakfast. And we FINALLY have a winner!) After breakfast she dropped me off at my car and I went on to my hair appointment and other errands.

Driving to my hair appointment I was just overwhelmed by the feeling that I so did not want to hang out with The Player again that night; I really just wanted some alone time.

So, I actually did something that I usually don’t do. I called him. And told him that I thought I just wanted to hang by myself. And I’d give him a call later and check in.

Ah, feeling so much better now.

Hair – fabulous. Then went and picked up my new Bluetooth Wireless headset to go with my new Razr (which is also fabulous!) and headed over to BJ’s to purchase the digital camera I promised myself when I got my tax refund. On the way back I stopped at Marshalls and picked up a few things I needed (can you say retail therapy?!)

I didn’t get home until after 6, I called the boysies and then decided that I should at least keep my word and give The Player a call back.

Turns out since he hadn’t heard from me he was on his way into town to hang out with some friends in Southie.

Totally cool Dude.

I changed into my jammies right then and there. So friggin happy to not have to deal with anyone. Watched the last episode of Lost, talked to my other brother Happy (I'll stay with the seven dwarf theme) for a while (we’re both obsessed with Lost and I had to call him about Michael returning!) and got to sleep early. It felt great. And I so did not miss The Player.

So, I didn’t call him today. He didn’t call me. It’s all good.

And meanwhile, even better? My new digital camera rocks, and as it turns out I got a pretty damn good deal on it too.

So, for your viewing pleasure, here’s some pics of big guy and little dude from their first baseball game tonight. (okay blogger problems – I’ll try again later) Big guy had two solid hits and made two outs. Little dude also whacked out two solid hits.

Now, if it’ll only warm up, we’ll really be all good.

Birthday dinners and forgotten memories

2006-04-21T12:11:00.000-04:00

This past Wednesday night I took L out for her birthday.

First stop: manicures at the new place I found and adore.

Next stop: The Montessori School, to listen to Chip Woods speak; father, teacher, writer extraordinaire. He is an amazing speaker in regards to child development; his book: Yardsticks: Children in the Classroom Ages 4-14: A Resource for Parents and Teachers, is enlightening.

(Just as an aside, after only two sessions of therapy, I think my self-confidence is improving. At one point I asked Chip a question regarding Big Guy. Not only did I freely offer up the information that Big Guy has mild Asperger’s syndrome; in response to his follow up query to my question, I admitted to a room full of people that Big Guy’s creative outlet is Game Boy. In speaking to L about it later, she was amazed, as well as impressed, that I admitted this particular thing; inasmuch she knows how much it pains me to allow my son to play and loose himself in that particular venue for hours upon end. She also knows how much I felt judged for admitting it. But I did it anyway… yay for me I guess.)

Anyhoo… after the Chip Woods lecture we headed back to my small town to the local bistro for dinner. I had received an email earlier in the day touting their prix-fixe menu, (which read amazing) as well as an offer for a very well priced bottle of house red to go with our dinner.

Yeah, we’re in.

Dinner was great. First though, we did our typical… nah, not so much liking this table… where else can we sit?

(Another aside… L and I have a habit of this. We’ve been known to switch tables three times or more until we find the one we want. Yeah, a little high maintenance maybe… but we want to sit where we want to sit dammit! Hee.)

The bill comes and L tries to talk me out of paying for both of us.

“We’re going to split this, right? We’re both the same amount of broke. You already paid for my manicure…”

“Ummm… Hello. Not only did you buy me the cute little shopping fund piggy bank for my birthday, you also paid for dinner… I’m paying for this. Besides, it might not have ended up dinner, but you let me pay last year, why should this be different?”

(Okay, why are best friends arguing about money regarding birthdays? Money is no object when it comes to birthdays.) (</aside>)

“Oh yeah, last year… the night you…”

“Passed out… and almost died…?”

“Passed out?! Um… There was a little more going on than that!”

“I SAID… I almost died, k?”

Yah.

Meanwhile, I had totally filed that night away. Conveniently forgotten about “the incident.” I guess I didn’t want to deal with it.

I mean, you would think that if you pass out on a street, wake up, proceed to pass out again, get driven away in an ambulance, pass out AGAIN in there, have the EMT’s tell you that you flat lined, and then proceed to get kept overnight in the hospital… you’d remember it… right?

Not in my brain.

I joked to L that maybe I should be speaking to my therapist about it. Or, maybe I should write about it.

Yeah, okay. Now there’s a story a lot of people would want to read, right?

Prolly… not so much.

Though there are some funny things that happened along the way.

Something to think about anyway.

Things you can't explain

2006-04-20T15:57:00.000-04:00

About two weeks ago, I’m driving home from work in the rain. The windshield wipers are going, and I’m listening to the radio.

Suddenly, I hear this weird “bloop, bloop, bloop” noise. Not knowing what the hell it was, I turned down the volume on the radio to see if I could get a better listen, figure it out. G-d knows I don't want to have to put any more money into my car right now.

But then, the noise is gone.

So, I go to turn the volume back up on my radio, but… wait. Nothing. There's no volume. The radio is still on, but nothing’s coming out of the speakers. I switch over to the CD player. Still... nothing.

Now I’m cursing and sort of smashing at the buttons and stuff a bit.

I’m completely addicted to music, and I especially need music when I drive. I’ve just left the office, so I’ve still got at least a good 30 minutes in the rain before I get home.

But still… there's nothing. Dead silence. Crap. Maybe I can drive listening to my Nano. Yeah, it's a little dangerous, but hell... I. NEED. MUSIC.

After I get home, I call to speak to the boysies, and I ask B if he has any idea what could’ve happened.

“Maybe a fuse? Why don’t I take a look at it tomorrow when we’re at soccer.”

“A'ight.”

Well, he can’t figure it out any more than I can. Monday I give my mechanic a call (yes, I drove around most of the weekend with the Nano in my ears.) This happened last week, so I’m leaving for NYC on Friday. I needed an oil change before I drove the 450 mile round trip anyway, maybe they can figure it out while I'm there. I make a plan to bring it in on Tuesday after work, before my first therapy appointment.

(Just as an aside, I absolutely adore my mechanic and his staff. They have really gone out of their way to take care of me; help me out. I bought the car I drive now from one of his other customers, and my mechanic helped me get an amazing deal. I don’t know if I know of a more honest man.)

Anyhoo, I get down there Tuesday night and it’s just Johnny who’s left waiting for me. He knows my car like the back of his hand, so he gets started on the oil and we start talking about the radio issues. He pulls the whole thing out, takes apart the speaker in the door… still nothing! I’m starting to freak out because there’s no way I can drive to NYC and back with no music AND the boysies in the car. I’ll go nuts. Johnny promises to do some research and I make a plan to come back Friday morning before we head to NYC.

Later that night I’m driving home from my therapy appointment. All of a sudden I think I’m hearing voices (yeah, I know how that sounds!) I do know I’m hearing something… I just can’t figure out what it is.

Then, out of nowhere, the radio pops on.

I start smiling. Grinning ear to ear. Singing along (it was a good song too.)

Then 30 seconds later, it’s gone… it just stops working again. What the fuck? No fucking way!! This is not fair!!!

My radio is mocking me.

This proceeds to happen another three times in the next two days, each time the radio staying on for just a little bit longer so that I get excited, and then it goes away again.

Thursday: I run out of the office at lunchtime to grab cash and fill the car up with gas for our trip. I pull out of the gas station and all of a sudden, there it is again… radio on.

Okay, how long are you gonna play with me this time? C’mon… I’m not buying it. You’re gonna go off again, it’s just a question of when.

But I get back to the office and the radio is still working. I leave work that evening; the radio turns on with the car. Now I’m driving… still working. I’m not sure what to think. Meanwhile, I’m supposed to bring it into the shop again in the morning, but do I really have to? I call Johnny.

“Okay, the radio… it’s totally possessed. Can you hear that? It’s now been on for over half an hour. And you know if I don’t come see you in the morning, it’ll probably stop working halfway to NYC. But, I really don’t want to have to come down there in the morning if I don’t have to…”

“Well, if it stops working again, slam the door. Sometimes that works to get it going again. And good luck to you. Godspeed.”

Well, it’s a week today and it’s still working. Maybe the devil decided to possess something else for a while…

Can’t wait to find out what that will be.

Validating oneself...

2006-04-19T13:20:00.000-04:00

So I’m supposed to come up with five validating statements about myself that don’t involve work or my children before my next therapy session.

Why can’t I get over the feeling… what a load of crap!

I know it’s for my own good, it will help me develop my self worth, yada, yada, yada… but it’s just so damn stupid. And if I don’t believe in it, how is it going to help me?

Regardless, I’ll do it, because I do believe that this therapist can help me identify what I’m really feeling in regards to B and our past and future. Talking through things with her yesterday brought out some past pain and fear. And that’s what I need to work on the most. Not being afraid to say what I need to say to B. Being able to ask the tough questions, the questions that I didn’t ask before we got married. And those thoughts still frighten me, so I guess I do have work to do.

On a completely other note, for someone that just wanted something casual, The Player sure isn’t acting all that casual. He called me every day I was away, I heard last night how much he missed me.

I’m all like… (pregnant pause) “Me too.”

His response to that… “Yeah, right!”

Hee.

I think he likes that I’m very nonchalant about him. I don’t chase him; don’t call him. Don’t get me wrong, I like him, I just also know that we are too different; come from such different worlds, for this to ever be for the long haul. But he’s fun to be with, we laugh a lot, and the nekkidness is very, very good… so, I’ll keep him around for a while (till I decide that I’m done, then I’ll disappear, as I always do.)

He’s off to the Berkshires for a couple of days; we have plans for a nekkid weekend when he gets back on Friday.

Yum.

Can that count towards developing my feelings of self-worth and validation?

The joys of home

2006-04-18T14:25:00.000-04:00

#1. An internet connection!

#2. My own bed... ie: Not having to share a sofabed with my boysies... little dude decided it would be okay to tap me awake at 4:30am because he couldn't sleep, big guy proceeded to wake me up each morning at 6am, just for the goof.

And there's more, but there's no time. I've got an appointment with my therapist in an hour, I'm currently sopping wet, and it takes me 20 minutes to get there (ah, the joys of the suburbs.) I've got dinner (and nekkid) plans with The Player later, so I won't be getting back to this for real until tomorrow... after I catch up on work and all (damn work, interfering with my blogging!)

Long story short... A great time was had by all in NYC. And I miss the momma already.

I'm outtie.

A juggling act

2006-04-13T10:01:00.000-04:00

So, I've hung out with The Player again for the past two nights. (just as an aside, I guess my guilt alleviated pretty quickly, huh?)

Tuesday night he came over after I got home from my therapist appointment, and since it was on the later side, we just hung in and watched a movie. At about 2AM my cell starts ringing and he just looks at me... "booty call?" Now I had no intention of even getting up to look at it... until he said that. Now I'm just curious as to who the hell would be calling me at 2AM because, hello!, I don't have any booty calls left.

Turns out... it's Grumpy. In case you missed his post yesterday about Drinking with Gavin, he hung out Tuesday night with Gavin DeGraw, who happens to be one of my favorite new artists. We had a conversation about Gavin's music on Sunday, because regardless of the fact that he has "I Don't Want to Be" playing on his My Space page, he had no idea who he was. I had gone on and on about how talented he was, what a great voice he had, how I had seen him play a couple of times live and that he puts on an amazing show. Anyhoo... Grumpy was calling to tell me that he was hanging out drinking with him... but I didn't answer the phone. And The Player is all like... "Yeah, that was your brother... okay."

So yesterday was the first day of Passover, and B and I had discussed trying to do a little seder together with the boys to celebrate. I also had a nail appointment scheduled, and while driving to work The Player called me (what?... you just left!) to ask if I wanted to go out for sushi that night (umm... yeah!).

Okay. They'll be a little juggling involved, but I can pull this off. Nails aren't until 6:15, which means I can stop by B's house, have a little schnibble with the boys, hang out for about a half an hour and get out of there using my nail appointment as my excuse. I'll be done with my nails by 7pm and then I'll pick up The Player to drive to the sushi place (his deal - he treats, I drive... cool.)

It actually all worked out. The Player and I had a conversation at dinner about what we're both looking for... we are so on the same page... we both want nothing serious right now, we enjoy each other's company, let's hang out, but there should be no expectations from the other person. I told him he's my distraction right now. We definitely have fun together, so why not, right?

One of the funniest parts of the evening? Walking out of the restaurant, we get back into my car and my cell starts ringing... yep. Grumpy. So I pick up, we're chatting, the next thing I know... The Player is on the phone chatting him up. I'm sitting there, literally yelling in the background... "don't even"... "be good"... "dude, I'm serious." But it was okay. He behaved himself. The only questionable thing he said to him was "Do you know about my sister's condition?" Okay Grumpy. Thanks.

So that's the current deal. The boysies and I leave for NYC tomorrow morning, we'll be there through Tuesday. B, the boys and I are having a non-traditional Passover seder this evening, but still inherently Jewish... Chinese Food! Considering I'm a pretty non-traditional girl, I think it fits. I have a therapist appointment Tuesday when we return, and then The Player and I are supposed to hang out. This is working for me... I do wonder what my therapist would say about The Player. Probably that I'm just gravitating towards something that alleviates my fears. But that's good for me right now, so I'm just gonna go with it.

Happy Holidays everyone.

Back to the beginning

2006-04-12T10:13:00.000-04:00

I met my new therapist last night. I like her. And it definitely doesn’t hurt that she has a very soothing British accent, though last night I was the one that did most of the talking.

So what did I learn? Honestly, nothing I didn’t know already. But I like her approach.

She first wanted me to understand that this would not be a good match if I thought this could be a quick fix... this is going to take some time.

She senses a lot of fear in me… fear of being controlled, fear of commitment, fear of moving forward. And guess what? It all stems from my childhood relationship with my mother and how the effects of my low self-esteem have affected my choices my whole life.

Yah.

She wants us to explore the past in order for me to redevelop my self-worth. And I need to stop thinking that doing things to make myself happy are selfish. Instead I should think of them as self-ful.

I think what she said to me at the end impacted me the most. She is willing to explore the option of reconciliation with me, but she also wants me to explore what my other options are as well. And most importantly I need to make sure this is what I want and need, not something that I feel like I should do.

“What is should? Should is not what will make you happy. Want and need. That comes from the heart. That will make you happy.”

Happy would be nice.

A whole world of I don't know

2006-04-10T22:44:00.000-04:00

Conflicted. Confused. Questioning.

That pretty much sums up my current state of mind (yeah, yeah, I know… this is different… how?)

Let me explain. (“No, there is no time, let me sum up”… (The Princess Bride… know it, live it, love it… hee.))

When I decided to explore the idea of putting my family back together I was well aware of the intrinsic stumbling blocks. So aware I called B when this started to specifically tell him that he shouldn’t break up with his girlfriend. Because if this didn’t end up working out I would feel terribly that he gave up something that already exists. I told him he should just consider it me being incredibly cool. To that end, I’m pretty sure he took her out Saturday night for his birthday.

(Just as an aside, shouldn’t I care that he’s sleeping with someone else? ‘Cause I don’t.)

As I’ve already mentioned (probably too many times), I don’t currently have sexual feelings for B (duh… reason #1 why I don’t care that he’s sleeping with somebody else.) On the other hand, I KNOW that in order for our reconciliation to work, that particular stumbling block HAS to change. I can’t exist in a relationship that doesn’t involve attraction; it wouldn’t be right for him to have to exist in that way either. Its been less than a month since we’ve started talking and doing things together as a family, and in my mind, if it’s gonna happen, it’s definitely gonna take some time. So, I figured I’d just hang out and see how it all panned out.

I didn’t expect a curve ball in the interim. (Though in retrospect, the way my life usually works… said curve ball surprises me… why?)

Anyhoo… flashback… Friday night.

Er and I in the ALH. We were drinking, singing and dancing along to the juke, shooting some stick, (running the table, actually), just having a grand ‘ol time. I wasn’t paying attention to anyone other than Er and our opponents, mostly because the clientele at the ALH is composed of scary old men, and secondly, I’m not supposed to be looking for anything / anybody right now.

But then, The Player walked in. I had met him back when I was dating The Intruder (some might remember The Intruder from the deleted blog.) I had found him extremely attractive then (the… you feel it everywhere feeling), but I was involved with someone at the time, so it was ignored, put away.

But now, he’s here, I’m wasted, and he’s totally flirting.

(Another aside… whoever said that after 2AM you lose your good sense knew their stuff, ‘cause after 2AM my good sense was drunk, horny and not listening to anyone.)

2AM. Last call has come and gone, we’ve finished up the last game and walked outside. The Player asks if we’re interested in getting high. Er says no, but I say yes before the word no is even out of her mouth. Er gives me the look. The “you should go home” look. The “no good can come of this” look. I ignore her. “I’m in.” Er tells me again to go home and call her when I get there. Yeah, yeah, I’m right on that. She leaves; I ask The Player where we’re going. He tells me to follow him. I do. Turns out he lives around the block from me, which is around the block from the ALH.

We hung out until 8am the next morning (making for a very hung over and tired mommy at soccer.) When I left he said he’d call me later (first thought, yeah… ok) and he did. He ended up coming over that night with pizza; we watched a movie…

Yah.

He called me last night, then again today. He wants to hang out, and I kinda want to hang out too. He’s fun, attractive, sexy… but, on the other hand, not someone I could see myself with for the long term. But, for right now… yeah.

Hence, my conflict. Part of me thinks that it’s wrong to hang out with him based on what I’ve started with B, but the other part of me needs this right now (okay, yet another aside… I was completely honest and upfront with The Player about what’s going on… he doesn’t seem to care… probably because he’s not looking for long term from me either.)

If B can continue to see his g/f why can’t I have my needs satisfied as well?

Is it wrong?

And if it’s not, why do I feel guilty?

Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck.

End of story.

Comments… Advice… Bueller… ?

Oy.

Sometimes it rains...

2006-04-10T08:58:00.001-04:00

The dance party was, as expected, the cutest thing ever. The kids were so excited to perform for us, they just about danced their pants off. And I have to say, the parent participation was totally fun too.

Friday night I went out with my good friend Er for mexican and margaritas. Well, that's how it started at least. (As an aside, I haven't seen her since I made this decision, and there was a lot to catch her up on.) We talked a lot about what I was trying to do, and she brought up some very good points, albeit, pretty much the same ones that others have already made.

Anyway, three margi's and a corona later we're done with dinner, but it's only 9:30 and we have no intention of going home yet. We ended up at the American Legion Hall, which, truly, is less scary than it sounds. The first time I went there I was pretty freaked out. But what was explained to me that time is very true... it's like your grandfather's basement. Pool table, jukebox, bar, tables, and you can smoke in there (cool!) because it's a private club. Oh, and did I mention that the beers are $2.00? Yeah. $2.00. Mixed drinks and shots are a whopping $3.00 each. Needless to say, we got our happy drunk on.

The next morning it was pouring, but nope, soccer was not called on account of rain. Three hours in the rain and hail does not make for a happy, hungover mommy. Though, big guy was totally happy... he had the game of his short career... 4 amazing saves and 1 goal. Little dude was not so lucky, his team got creamed 12 to 2, and the last half of his game was played in the hail.

We went to lunch after for B's birthday. I drove little dude, B drove big guy over to the restaurant. Little dude got a hold of the camera, cause I left it in the back seat, and decided to use the rest of the film taking pictures of the inside of my car, the back of big guy's head, the waiter, the busboy, the plants... (I was going to post them too, but decided against it.) He was just having the time of his life with it. I think maybe the hail affected his brain.

Lunch was nice. The kids are just so happy to have both of us around at the same time. I still feel no attraction for B, but he's so damn good with the boys. At least I didn't jump when B unexpectedly put his arm around my waist to say thanks.

Can you say conflicted?

Okay, there's even more to the conflicted now, but I can't quite go there yet. I've got to wrap my own head around this first before I start writing about it.

But y'all know, eventually I will.

But I digress

2006-04-09T13:20:00.000-04:00

So, for those of you that might not've caught the comment left, Grumpy has decided to create a point/counterpoint blog. And yes, my name is Bitter.

He can be a little snarky and mean, but he is also inherently funny and incredibly talented. I've added the link to the list on the right, but if you want to take a peek right now...

Donttellmehowitends

I'll be back later to update on the weekend.

Needless to say, trouble always knows where to find me.

Installing Love

2006-04-07T11:16:00.000-04:00

(Not sure where I got this, but it’s quite apropos.)

Tech Support: Yes, ... how can I help you?

Customer: Well, after much consideration, I've decided to install Love. Can you guide me though the process?

Tech Support: Yes. I can help you. Are you ready to proceed?

Customer: Well, I'm not very technical, but I think I'm ready. What do I do first?

Tech Support: The first step is to open your Heart. Have you located your Heart?

Customer: Yes, but there are several other programs running now. Is it okay to install Love while they are running?

Tech Support: What programs are running?

Customer: Let's see, I have Past Hurt, Low Self-Esteem, Grudge and Resentment running right now.

Tech Support: No problem, Love will gradually erase Past Hurt from your current operating system. It may remain in your permanent memory but it will no longer disrupt other programs. Love will eventually override Low Self-Esteem with a module of its own called High Self-Esteem. However, you have to completely turn off Grudge and Resentment. Those programs prevent Love from being properly installed. Can you turn those off?

Customer: I don't know how to turn them off. Can you tell me how?

Tech Support: With pleasure. Go to your start menu and invoke Forgiveness. Do this as many times as necessary until Grudge and Resentment have been completely erased.

Customer: Okay, done! Love has started installing itself. Is that normal?

Tech Support: Yes, but remember that you have only the base program. You need to begin connecting to other Hearts in order to get the upgrades.

Customer: Oops! I have an error message already. It says, "Error - Program not run on external components ." What should I do?

Tech Support: Don't worry. It means that the Love program is set up to run on Internal Hearts, but has not yet been run on your Heart. In non-technical terms, it simply means you have to Love yourself before you than Love others.

Customer: So, what should I do?

Tech Support: Pull down Self-Acceptance; then click on the following files: Forgive-Self; Realize Your Worth; and Acknowledge your Limitations.

Customer: Okay, done.

Tech Support: Now, copy them to the "My Heart" directory. The system will overwrite any conflicting files and begin patching faulty programming. Also, you need to delete Verbose Self-Criticism from all directories and empty your Recycle Bin to make sure it is completely gone and never comes back.

Customer: Got it. Hey! My heart is filling up with new files. Smile is playing on my monitor and Peace and Contentment are copying themselves all over My Heart. Is this normal?

Tech Support: Sometimes. For others it takes awhile, but eventually everything gets it at the proper time. So Love is installed and running. One more thing before we hang up. Love is Freeware. Be sure to give it and its various modules to everyone you meet. They will in turn share it with others and return some cool modules back to you.

When the best and the brightest end up... not so much the best or the brightest

2006-04-06T22:38:00.000-04:00

Doc Gooden was sentenced to jail on Wednesday for cocaine use. He chose it actually. Following in the footsteps of Darryl in a way. And, it makes me sad. The NY'er in me. The mom in me. Doc and Darryl had so much potential. But they were the ones that didn't live up...

Just as an aside, am I really blogging this much about baseball? Yeah, I heart baseball. Truly, not as much as football, but... seasons rally.

Doc's savior sadly could be time spent behind bars

I was never a "true" Met fan (Yankees!), but I loved Doc... and Darryl (who didn't love Darryl back in the day?)

What's so sad is what's become of their lives... they both had so much potential; they hit the high too early and they never recovered... they were both too young when they became famous and they couldn't handle it... what a waste.

Dance Dance Dance

2006-04-06T12:55:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow little dude has his dance party at school. Parents have been invited to watch as well as… wait for it… PARTICIPATE! Big guy’s was last week and because of meetings, I was unable to go. B was there for him though, which made me happy.

After he got done, B gave me a call to laugh about the parent participation. He had to do the Macarena (heheheh.) Then he warned me that payback’s a bitch.

So we’re both going tomorrow. I figured that he would’ve bailed as soon as I confirmed that I could get out of work to make it there, but since this is little dude’s first he doesn’t want to miss it.

Our conversation last night regarding this matter…

Me: I am so not doing the Macarena!
B: Yeah you are!
Me: I’d much rather do the Hand Jive. With how many times I’ve seen Grease, I’m a hand jive expert. C’mon…
B: That’s fine, you’re just not leaving until you get up there and participate like the rest of us.
Me: I’m really not getting out of getting up there am I?
B: Not so much. Heheheh.

Meanwhile, I have to say watching little dude do the Hand Jive with his “hot potato, hot potato” is one of the cutest and funniest things I’ve ever seen. He does this little jump along with it, plus his high voice. Now, picture 20 six year olds doing this together.

I don’t own a video camera… why?

On another note, Grumpy and I finally got to catch up via phone today. He told me he’s going to start a blog and if his name is Grumpy, mine is going to be Bitter. HAH! We totally left the bigger issue on the table and just chatted about what’s going on in his life. He had a date last night, saw a great movie, is meeting with the guys from National Lampoon today about creating a show for their cable station, and oh yes, did he forget to mention after he gets back from Florida he has to go to Barbados to take a meeting.

Can I have my brothers’ life… please? Or at least my brothers’ life with my kids. That might just not suck.

Not that my life is so much with the suckage lately. And that’s a good thing.

Hopefully there are no hidden cameras in the wall of the gym tomorrow to record my participation for prosperity. Hee.

Say it isn't so...

2006-04-05T22:10:00.000-04:00

The city council is voting on the possibility of a new Yankee Stadium? This is a sacrilege. How could Steinbrenner even consider moving Monument Park?! (B & I took big guy to a game at the stadium as an infant... don't make me tell you the story about me having to nurse him in the infirmatry because he refused his bottle of b.m. and I was so not nursing him in the stadium bathrooms!)

A history lesson:

A History of Yankee Stadium:

February 6, 1921 - The Yankees announced plans to purchase 10 acres of property from the estate of William Waldorf Astor in the west Bronx. They spent $675,000 for these grounds. As tenants of the Polo Grounds for years, the Yankees had to share the stadium with the New York Giants baseball team, but this relationship was strained after the 1920 season. Babe Ruth and the Yankees doubled the stadium to 1,289,422 – over 100,000 more than the Giants’ attendance. With this purchase, Yankee co-owners Jacob Ruppert and Tillinghast l'Hommedieu Huston sought out a stadium of their own – in fact, the first baseball stadium to be called a “stadium.”

May 5, 1922 - The construction contract for Yankee Stadium was awarded to New York's White Construction Co. The Bombers had two requirements, however: the stadium had to cost only $2.5 million and had to be completed by Opening Day in 1923.

April 18, 1923 - Yankee Stadium hosted its inaugural game against the Boston Red Sox. Construction was completed in only 284 working days. In addition to the thousands outside, 74,200 fans packed the stadium, and witnessed the Babe hit a three-run homerun as the Yankees beat the Red Sox, 4-1.

1928 -The stadium saw renovations this year, with its the triple-deck grandstand extended beyond the foul pole.

1937 - The right-field grandstand was extended, and concrete replaced the remaining wooden bleachers. This reduced the distance to center field from 490 feet to 461 feet.

1946 - Additional lights were added to the stadium.

1966-67 - Under new ownership Yankee Stadium, by now 44-years-old, received $1.5 million worth of modernization -- most of which was a new paint job. The brown concrete exterior and the greenish copper fascade were both painted white. The grandstand seats, all of them, were painted blue.

August 8, 1972 - The Yankees signed a 30-year lease with the City of New York, which set a 1976 deadline for modernization of the stadium.

1973 - The Yankees completed their 50th-Anniversary season, and moved to Shea Stadium for two seasons while their own stadium was almost completely demolished and rebuilt.

April 15, 1976 - The remodeled Yankee Stadium opened, and the Yankees blew out Minnesota, 11-4. Once again, the stadium hosted the World Series in its inaugural season.

2005 - Plans were unveiled in 2005 for a new Yankee Stadium just north of the current stadium, to be built in Macombs Dam and Mullaly parks. With the Yankees paying $800 million, and the city paying $300 million, the construction is expected to cost more than $1.1 billion.

April 5, 2006 - The City Council votes on whether or not to build a new Yankee Stadium.

Nooooooooooo! (there's my vote!)

Help Wanted

2006-04-05T10:36:00.000-04:00

Okay, I need some help here.

I’m trying to teach myself some basic HTML, which as you can see has led to the little scores section above, ~~but now i've screwed up the margins on my dates & title headers.~~ (thanks hil!)

~~And I still can't get more space in between the teams without slash lines...~~ (thanks deb!)

Can anyone help me... please? Pretty please with sugar on top?

If so, would you email me or just leave it in the comments. (The email is on my profile.)

We're all set thanks to my fabulous readers! Yay!!

Batter Up

2006-04-04T09:46:00.000-04:00

B and I took the boys to see Ice Age 2 on Saturday evening. I have to say, we had a nice time. The boys were more than thrilled, and watching them interact with their dad was pretty amazing. B’s birthday is the 8th and we are going to go out to lunch or dinner with the boys to celebrate as a family. Spring soccer starts that day (yay!), so it will probably be lunch because the games end for the boys at 1:15. Either way, I think it’s a good thing.

I definitely still have a few reservations, but as the days go by, this feels more and more natural. We’ve been talking a couple of times a day most days, mostly about the boys, but not always. I start therapy on the 11th, and I think it’s really going to help me come to terms with where I’ve been and allow me to move forward in a way that isn’t harboring bad feelings from the past.

I’m taking the boys to visit their grandparents for part of spring vacation. There’s an Easter egg hunt in Central Park that mom found out about; we are so there! I emailed Grumpy to let him know his nephews would be in town and would love to see him, but he’s leaving for Florida the day we arrive. Which is really too bad; the boys adore him, and I’m sorry they won’t have a chance to see each other. We haven’t actually chatted since we had our little blowout, but we did have an email exchange last night regarding his feelings on what I’m trying to do.

Best line? “Denile ain’t just a river in Egypt”

That made me giggle.

There was no resolution though. I don’t know if he’s ever going to be on board with this. Hopefully, if things do end up coming to fruition, he’ll come around. And if he doesn’t… well I’ll have to cross that bridge if and when I come to it. (As an aside, I gave him the address to the blog so that maybe he could better understand what I’m trying to do… his first response was to his nickname. Oops.)

And finally…

“And the Yankees win, the Yankees win!” (15 – 2!!) Yeah, I know it’s only the first game…

Alex Rodriguez hit a grand slam and drove in five runs, Johnny Damon drove in a run in his Yankees' debut, and Randy Johnson exhibited the dominant form he lacked for much of last year in a season-opening 15-2 rout of the Oakland Athletics on Monday night. Johnson allowed one run and five hits in seven strong innings, an impressive 106-pitch performance for the 42-year-old lefty to kick off his second season with the Yankees. Hideki Matsui homered on opening day for the second straight year, hitting a three-run shot in the fourth. He finished with four hits and four RBIs. Damon doubled twice and hit an RBI single in the second to end an 0-for-16 streak on opening day as New York knocked A's ace Barry Zito out after 1 1-3 innings, the shortest outing of his career. Zito, tagged for seven runs and four hits, was done after 59 pitches -- the first time he hasn't lasted two innings. Derek Jeter and Bernie Williams each added two RBIs for the Yankees,

And now for something completely different

2006-04-02T11:31:00.000-04:00

Hey you... yeah you... c'mere... it's us... big guy and little dude.

Since mom decided to get all boring on you guys and stop talking smut and stuff, we decided to hijack her blog and write something a little more informative.

So, for all you kids out there, we proudly present:

Ways to Drive your Mother up a Tree

- Throw open her door at 6:15am Sunday morning crying and screaming at your brother for crumpling up your page of gameboy passwords. (one zillion extra bonus points if it's "spring forward" Sunday.)

- After leaving her room, go back into yours and start rooting around in your closet for the toys located underneath everything else, making sure that loud crashes ensue (another zillion bonus points if the walls of your closet and her room are connected.)

- Start singing YMCA and John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt at the top of your lungs claiming that you're "practicing" for the upcoming dance party at school. Don't stop even when your mom asks you for the twentieth time.

- Only speak to your sibling and your mom in a whiny Caillou type voice.

- Create a trail through the house of discarded toys, games and books that bored you two minutes after you started playing with them. Add to that any piece of clothing that you have worn for five minutes and decided that you want to change out of. Make sure that you are asked at least five times before picking any of it up. Finally acquiesce, but proceed with a pouty look on your face.

- Come up with really silly ideas such as putting on your bathing suit and asking to go to the beach and swimming when it's windy and 60 degrees out. Throw a tantrum when your mom refuses.

- Have at least one fight with your sibling daily about how he never listens to you. Make sure that pushing, slapping and wrestling are involved, even if your mom forbids you to put your hands on each other. Ignore your mom's demands for you to cut it out already.

- Take out every loud and/or musical toy and turn them on at the same time (especially effective if the batteries are dying and they sound warpy.)

Well, that should get you guys going. We're going to play some soccer with mom now. Good luck and have fun!

**Disclaimer:

We almost forgot, in order to not be shipped off to boarding school, and have your mom forgive you each and every time, make sure that you are as cute as we are.

April Fools? Not so much!

2006-04-01T18:56:00.000-05:00

Finally. What a beautiful day today. The kind of day that just calls to you… come outside.

The boys woke up at the crack of dawn… of course. There is no sleeping in when they’re around. I shooed us out of the house by 9:30am to run our errands because I wanted us to be able to go play after lunch. But first, we’ve got to go to the post office, BJ’s, the supermarket, the library.

Okay that’s done… let’s go play.

We drove around to 3 different playgrounds before finally finding one that was actually inhabited by other kids. Little dude insisted on wearing shorts today, a decision I wasn’t exactly comfortable with at first, but considering it was closing in on 70 degrees by 2pm, I had to admit he was the only one dressed correctly for running around.

They hit the ground running as soon as I parked the car; first stop, the swings. Big guy jumped right on and got himself going. Little dude wanted a push to get off the ground. And then another, and another.

Hey, little dude, this isn’t so much fun for mom... you’ve gotta learn to pump your legs.

Then the challenge was thrown down. Who could go the highest?

Understand, I’m a champion swinger, and never one to back down from a challenge… I jumped on the next swing over and we were off. I have to say, big guy gave me quite a run for my money. I think he might’ve even been going higher than me considering my legs are still 6 or so inches longer than his, and we looked pretty evenly matched up there in the air.

Oh yeah, there it is, what I knew would be coming... Little dude whining that I need to help him get back into the game. Damn, I guess I’ve gotta come down now.

Just one more minute...

I had forgotten how good it feels. To fly through the air, the wind in your face, seeing how high you can go. The slight apprehension in your belly as you’re soaring that you might just fall.

There's little dude again... "Mommy! I need help. I need to get back in the game!"

So I came down, but I didn’t jump. I left that feat to big guy.

He stuck the landing.

Friends Forever

2006-03-31T15:17:00.000-05:00

My best friend and her husband totally rock. They’re that perfect mix of smart, sarcastic, funny and witty. They’re the perfect couple; the perfect house, kids, dog, cars… their names even start with the same letter. They throw a Halloween party every year, and of course, do the joint costume thing. But they are always original and never contrived. This year’s costume: Thing 1 and Thing 2. You want to hate them, but it’s impossible. They’re just amazing people.

L and I went out for dinner Wednesday night and were trying to decide between martini’s and red wine. We’re perusing the martini menu, when one of them (I forget the name, cause I don’t do designer martini’s… me: Grey Goose, straight up, extra dirty please (< /aside >) caught her eye because of the Godiva Liquor.

In the midst of her gushing about how good that particular liquor is, she mentioned that she had a bottle in the house if I was ever interested in trying it. But the giggling leads me to believe there might be a little more to this story, so I questioned… “and you got this bottle… how?”

She blushed and told me how her (FL), her husband (ML), and B (did I mention that my ex works for her husband? … oh yeah… whole other can o worms…) were at a catered party over Christmas that featured a few chefs from several prominent area restaurants.

B was there to sell cigars, L & L were there as invited guests, as they are friendly with the hosts; their children go to the same Montessori.

Over the course of the evening, FL got a chance to have a glass of the aforementioned Godiva Liquor, and fell madly in love with this liquid. The first glass was gone in a flash, but she didn’t want to look like a Godiva hog, so she sent ML to get her more. B was sent to get her the next glass.

Well, as any good husband would, ML saw how much FL loved this liquor and decided he was going to do something about it.

As it turned out, not so much him doing something about it as B…

As they were getting ready to leave, ML had B pack up the bottle of Godiva with the cigar supplies, and then carry the bag outside to the car.

L's final comment on the matter,“Don’t you want us for friends?”

On the way out, we stole the really excellent pens they gave us to sign our credit slips.

Spy Kids

2006-03-30T16:16:00.000-05:00

I’m in love…

With my Nano!

This thing is awesome. They finally got a decent model Ipod for $150 (I’ve just heard way too many shitty things about the shuffle to spend $100 on it... yeah, i'm cheap... sue me) so, my internal Veruca decided “Now, I want it now!” (I can’t say Daddy, cause he ain’t buying it for me.)

Yesterday at lunch I hauled my butt over to the mall and picked up my “slim and sexy” Nano in black. Yeah, that's right... Apple totally knows how to market to their audience.

But, on another note, I need to add that Apple is the scariest company known to man. We think our president may have some weird spy toys… but, get this.

I used Itunes before I purchased the Nano (it has to do with my addiction for Lost, but that’s a whole other post…)

They’ve got my credit card on file. The same card that I used to purchase my Nano yesterday. Before I left work for the day, not 6 hours after purchasing my new toy, there was an email from Apple in my inbox congratulating me on my purchase and welcoming me to the Ipod family.

This completely freaked me out. The fact that they were able to match up my card numbers, then my email within that short of a period of time… hello!

Take that George W… you got nothing on Apple.

Plusses and minuses...

2006-03-28T00:18:00.000-05:00

One of the things that came out of this weekend’s analysis-fest was the idea of making a list of the positives and negatives in taking these steps towards getting back together with B and attempting to move forward as a family.

So, walla... no holds barred. (If anything, this should give me a clearer picture of my thoughts when I speak to a therapist.)

Negative: I am not in love with B. Question: Is it possible to love someone again, after the hurt and anger is gone? Answer: I don’t know.

Negative: I am not currently attracted to B. Truthfully, we were never a great sexual match. Question: Can these feelings develop over time? Answer: I don’t know.

(Just as an aside... maybe I should ask Mr. Coles, he seems to have a good handle on this kind of stuff...)

Positive: We’ve created new lines of open communication, which, regardless of the final outcome, is of the good.

Positive: We could be a family again. The boys would have both of their parents living under one roof. There's no bad there, as long as we're setting a positive example for them.

(Another aside… For 3 years I tried to fill the void of not having my boys around by dating, searching for a new relationship to fill the empty times. And what I learned was there’s no lack of boys wanting to bed me; there’s a lack of boys willing to consider the concept of taking on “someone else’s family.” And the ironic thing about that is, I never wanted a new dad for my boys, they already have one. Which is why no one I dated ever met my kids.)

Positive: B is an amazing father. He goes out of his way in order to spend time with his boys, nurture them and just be there for them.

Negative: He wasn’t a good husband and partner. I wanted a partner, but instead, I got a child. An irresponsible, explosive, controlling, negative child. Question: Has that changed? Answer: In some ways.

Positive: He’s been in therapy for two years and has learned anger management skills. It is very obvious in our recent dealings with each other how far he’s come. He’s a different person in regards to his past explosiveness.

Negative: He doesn’t have the same level of education I do. In the past if he wasn't schooled regarding a concept in which I believed in, I was made to feel like it wasn't important, that it was stupid.

Positive: I believe he has seen the error of his ways in regards to this, and in recent dealings he has been more open to my ideas.

Negative: We don't share the same level of drive and ambition, he is more so satisfied with the status quo than I will ever be.

Why?...

Negative: He's still a regular pot smoker at 38. There’s nothing wrong with an occasional indulgence, but every day? C’mon now. You have children.

Negative: He’s a worse money manager than I am. And two bad money managers do not a good match make.

Oy. Okay, I need to end this on a positive…

Positive: He’s willing to do just about anything to make this happen.

And that, in and of itself is reason enough to at least try.

Right?

I never would've dreamed it possible 10 years ago...

2006-03-27T14:31:00.000-05:00

But, I can go home again...

And my mom and dad will be there, waiting, with open arms, to support me in whatever decision I make. They’ll offer help and guidance, but no absolutes. They’ll assure me that I’m a smart girl; I’ll make the right choice from both my heart and my head.

Who are you people and what have you done with my parents?!

Throughout my high school, college, and married years, I never dreamed that I could ever have this kind of relationship with my parents, my mother specifically. One could argue that she is the reason I chose to marry who I did.

In essence, I married what my mom used to be: a controlling, argumentative and explosive, negative person.

Where did that leave me? Never believing that I was good enough; as a child, young adult and then as a wife.

Just as an aside, I went to college to prove my parents wrong. I majored in child psychology (much to my parent’s chagrin – “What on earth will you ever do with that?”) so that I could learn how to bring up my children differently.

And I believe that I’ve definitely accomplished that. My boys hear every day what amazing, smart, sweet people they are; that they will have the ability to accomplish whatever they want to in this life. And they will. It’s all about being positive rather than negative in your focus. </Digression>

Anyhoo… the highlights:

Mom and I spent the entire day together Saturday; walking, shopping, talking. While we were in Bloomies, I decided I wanted to go see the puppies, so we stopped into the American Kennels on Lexington Ave. O.M.G.! Please, I implore whoever is reading this – never, ever buy a dog from them. The chocolate lab we asked the woman behind the counter to take out was so sad and unresponsive. The woman that took him out of his cage, essentially grabbed him around his neck to pull him out… there is no way that these people care about animals at all. </rant>

Sunday morning mom & I headed over to the Bide-a-Wee facility at 38th and the FDR. I came thisclose to adopting a dog. Chucky. A 2 yr old black Border-Collie mix, so sweet, cute, but peeing so uncontrollably outside, I was worried about the 4 hour drive back to Boston. But, considering I haven’t stopped thinking about him, (I even looked him up online this morning), I may have to go back to get him with the boys.

Dinner was fabulous. This was my first visit to John’s at 12th, and I highly recommend it. Loud, kitschy, a bit cramped even, but who cares. The food was amazing. Portion size for the price was unbelievable, especially for NYC (mom and I shared, it would’ve been way too much food if we didn’t), and so incredibly reasonable overall, I was blown away.

The only bad part about dinner… Grumpy decided to go all evil on my ass. His opinion of what I’m trying to do is not a positive one, and there was no hesitation on his part, in going for the jugular in trying to prove his points (he is a lawyer after all.) I ended up in tears; we’ve not really spoken since. He doesn’t have kids. I don’t think he’s really in a position to judge.

That’s about the jist of the weekend…

Oh, except for Friday night…

One word. Yum.

Update

2006-03-22T20:00:00.000-05:00

I've now committed to bringing back four dozen bialys from Kossars. Yes, that's right, FOUR dozen... 48 bialys. They are that good. Fuck it, I need 2 dozen for here... they freeze! Amended... I'm gonna need 5 dozen.

Mom has agreed to ditch daddy on Sunday and have momma / daughter day. Though she did get me to agree to brunch at home rather than downtown so that daddy won't feel badly that we're goin for dim-sum without him.

So, I've agreed to bagels and lox at the apartment... but there's no way she's getting me to believe that the pre-packaged lox from Fairview is gonna cut it. We're goin to Zabars on Saturday to get the real thing. I'll pay. Yes, it is that big a deal / difference. No matter what she says :).

Have I mentioned, I can't wait to go home!!!

Grumpy is not going to Cali - he'll be at dinner. And our dinner plans.... well, they've changed as well. Now that the rents are taking 6 people to dinner, the Jew has played his card.

No, they will not be spending $600+ on dinner Sat night. Instead, we're going to John's on 12th. Which, I've been assured, has amazing food, as well as a much younger crowd. And, it's a lot more casual... "You can wear whatever you want!"

Whatever. Hanging with the P's, their very cool friends, and my bro.... it's all of the good. Especially if the food lives up... (it's all about the food!)

Grumpy and I just need to discuss where we're hanging when dinner is done. Though, I think we've already realized that I'm singing at one point this weekend, so plans are probably pretty much set..

My boss has agreed to let me leave work by 3:30pm Friday. My p's... well... they don't expect me before Saturday morningish...

Yeah, there's a little left unsaid here...

I'll get there.

Maybe.

New York, New York

2006-03-22T12:17:00.000-05:00

Hee.

Parve Wednesday One-liners.

I can’t wait to get to NYC this weekend.

I haven’t started to make out and out lists… yet. But there is the one I’ve got running in my head.

All the things I need to do in one weekend (damn weekend isn’t long enough!)

The rents have taken care of the “good restaurant.” Saturday nite, Nino's on 2nd Ave. My mother even warned me… no jeans, this isn’t New England! (Hee.) I do know how to dress for NYC, mom. I'll tell you what, I'll even wear a cute skirt.

Hopefully Grumpy (brother) can postpone his trip to Cali and hang with me after dinner. Though, he’s probably going to want to go downtown and sing karaoke AGAIN. I’m gonna have to put my foot down. We need to go somewhere other than the little asian karaoke bar!! Well, maybe after we’ve been drinking for a while.

Oh, please. Who do I think I'm kidding?

If we hang out, I’m so gonna end up with a microphone in front of my face before the night is over. What’s even scarier than the singing though… the shots that we’ll end up consuming while waiting for our numbers to come up again. Ah, Good Times.

Sunday needs to be a momma / daughter day consisting of brunching (hmm, maybe Chinatown for dim-sum), shopping (ooh, dim sum brunch in Chinatown would allow stoppage at Century 21 before heading back uptown) and momma time (and if I can get her to buy me stuff too… total score! :)

I don’t get the kids back until Monday after school, so I can drive back at whatever time I want to Sunday. I may just have to hang for the traditional Sunday night Chinese feast, and make Chinese food the running theme for the day.

I need to get some pizza in there too. Ok, that can be late night Saturday. NY Pizza is even better when drunk. Ooh, bagels and lox. I can bring home bagels... Oooh, if we go downtown, I can hit the lower east side for bialys.

I better go get my lunch. I think I’m hungry.

Fear of Flying

2006-03-21T21:08:00.000-05:00

Is it possible that Erica Jong is my long lost MUCH older sister? Or maybe... she was my mom in a past life...

Okay, okay, I know those are ridiculous thoughts, but, tonight, while reading an article she penned in this month's Elle magazine, "SCENES FROM AN OPEN MARRIAGE", (I was mani / pedi-ing in preparation for my trip to NYC), I was absolutely blown away by the similarities in the way we think.

I loved, loved, loved this paragraph:

"Beware of books. They are more than innocent assemblages of paper and ink and string and glue. If they are any good, they have the spirit of the author within. Authors are rogues and ruffians and easy lays. They devour life and always want more. They have sap, spirit, sex. Books are panderers. The Jews are not wrong to worship books. A real book has pheromones and sprouts grass through its cover. Whitman knew that."

The article is actually about how she, within the confines of her defined "open marriage," slept with Martha Stewart's now ex-husband, and whether or not she regrets it. The realization at the end is twofold:

"The most uncomfortable things I did, I did knowing in my gut that I would write about them."

and

"Whenever I see Martha on TV, in tabloids, in magazines, I think, Does she trust anyone? It's hard to trust and I didn't make it any easier for her. When you can't trust anyone, there's no choice but to wind up alone. A blasted marriage can also blast your heart."

While I never slept with a married man and/or broke up a marriage, these words touched my soul in a way that is difficult to explain. To the point that I CAN'T stop thinking about them. They are so apropo to my life, to what I've been feeling.

I lost all trust in terms of relationships, and my feelings, when my marriage broke up. He broke every rule of "partnership" that I grew up believing marriage would bring me (without cheating on me, no less.) He broke my heart, even though I was the one to call it quits.

I've contemplated, more than once, whether or not I'm now destined to spend the rest of my life alone because of my lack of trust in myself and relationships. (well, alone with my boys, but the gist is there.)

As for doing things knowing that I'd write about them, that part is a bit backward, but truthful nonetheless. I first decided to write about my life and what I was doing as a sort of therapy.

But I question now... as this blog progressed, was my behavior a precursur? Did I create drama in order to write about it? (and now that the original blog is gone, that point is mute, but still... food for thought.)

Bottom line?

I know I don't want to be alone for the rest of my life. I want to share my life with someone. And to ks's point in her comment to me - I DO want to share it within the confines of a loving, fulfilling and passionate relationship.

But... do I have the facilities to be able to do that? And make the right decisions having been where I've been?

I dunno.

And G-d knows, the answers are not coming as easily as I would like.

(just as an aside... I did mention the blog was going to be a little different now... the funny will come back, I'm just not sure... when.)

Home is where the heart is

2006-03-20T21:00:00.000-05:00

Is it possible to have a mid life crisis at 39?

That would put my life expectancy at 78, which doesn’t seem very old, considering my family tends to live well into their 80’s and 90’s.

I just don’t know what else to call what I’m feeling. In one weekend I managed to question almost every decision I’ve made in the past four years (yes, that was the weekend I deleted the blog.)

So, what caused this extreme distress? Missing my boys.

I was wandering around my house two weekends ago, just overwhelmed by the emptiness of it all.

It spiraled out of control from there. The bottom line... I began to question whether or not it’s fair to subject my boys to a non-traditional family. Especially because their father and I no longer fight the way we used to.

Don’t get me wrong. The boys are extremely happy, well adjusted; everything a parent could want. My oldest hasn’t asked in at least two years “can daddy come home now?”

But I live in a town filled with prime examples of “the perfect family.” And while I know in reality these people have their own problems, the appearance of what they have and I don’t is what causes that pang in my heart.

And guilt is a funny thing. Especially Jewish guilt.

As an aside, for those who aren’t familiar with the concept, Jewish guilt is the belief that you’re not doing the right thing for those around you, the ones you love. It doesn’t matter what’s best for you. What matters is what’s best for everyone else.

And this guilt has led me to believe that maybe I should be trying to put my family back together, since I was the one to break it apart in the first place. And I know, it’s not like he wouldn’t jump at the chance to try…

But even as I attempt to do this, I get this underlying feeling that, in the long run, whilst it might be the right decision for the boys… for me… maybe not so much (besides the fact that I am so NOT attracted to him, at all! If this proceeds, can I request separate bedrooms upfront, or would that be wrong?)

And then, I have the reaction of some people to this news, because, yes, I've shared…

My best friend… “Are you sure?” (I think I shocked her more than my ex.)

My best friend’s brother, yelling in the background during a voice mail she was leaving me, and then the follow up phone conversation… “Don’t do it! Don’t do it!”

A friend of my best friend after hearing… “Did you talk her down?”

Well, the feedback hasn’t been the most encouraging, to say the least.

So, I’m going home this weekend. Back to NYC, mom and dad, grumpy brother, all the things I’ve been missing. And, maybe, just maybe, they can give me the perspective that I need.

Though, at the very least, I’m gonna get some really good food.

Yeah, I'm back

2006-03-17T21:44:00.000-05:00

I know, I know.

I did. I deleted it all.

I had to.

And for those of you that emailed me, and I explained... well, you already know (and just as an aside... those loyal readers that i had/have... you guys rock! I hope you're back.)

The rest of you... well, you're in the dark now, aren't you? Until I decide to explain further, which, of course, I will... at one point.

But for now...

I'm just gonna say...

I had to.

And leave it at that.

But, i'm back. in a slightly different way, but back.

So deal with it.

Or not.

It's up to you.

A President's day story

2006-02-20T22:08:00.000-05:00

President’s Day Weekend 1991

I’m working my first job after graduating from the concrete jungle they call SUNY Albany, and living in my first closet, I mean apartment, in NYC.

Risa and I decide that we want to go skiing for the weekend, I borrow my parent’s car, and we head to Vermont Friday after work.

Of course, it decides to start snowing almost as soon as we reach the other side of the bridge, so the drive is slow, dark and scary. Risa offers to drive, but I know better. This is my parents’ car, if anything happens to it I will never live it down, so, I respectfully decline.

We arrive in Killington way past check-in time, but are lucky enough to still have our room waiting for us. We collapse in our beds and sleep immediately overtakes us.

After breakfast the next morning we head over to the mountain. We’ve both decided that signing up for lessons would be a good idea because we are definitely not the strongest skiers in existence.

All goes well in ski school. Neither of us die, or embarrass ourselves, and after the morning class is over, the instructors point us in the direction of the beginner mountain and… the rope tow.

“No way! I am not towing myself up the mountain on that thing. I’m gonna look like an asshole!”

We make our way over to the lift.

“It doesn’t look that high. I bet we can ski down from there.”

We jump on. I hold on for dear life and look over the side as we begin our ascent.

“This might be a bit higher than I thought.”

We’re getting to the top of the mountain now. The lift slows in preparation for our dismount.

Ski’s down? Ski’s up? What am I doing?! How do I get off of this thing?!? Aggggghhhhhh!!

Okay, there’s the first fall. Glad I got it out of the way.

I push myself up to my knees, get myself standing again, turn and look down the mountain.

“Risa? Umm, I’m not sure I can do this. This looks really steep.”

“Stay in your snowplow, you’ll make it. Just go slow.”

Yeah, famous last words.

We start our decent. A slight scream escapes my lips every few seconds as I try and stay in control.

Risa, who is more of a natural at this than I, starts to ski out in front of me.

“Ris, I can’t keep up. I’ll meet you down at the bottom.”

Now I’m alone. What asshole told me this was fun? Oh yeah, that would be mom.

I start to pick up speed and I can feel my body tense with nervousness. East coast skiing is all about groomed snow, and I’m finding it more and more difficult to get my skis to dig in. I’m losing control.

Then, when I’m at my pinnacle of speed, I hit a mogul. I shoot straight up into the air and come down… on my head. Oof. I just lay there. I’m so done. I wonder how many people saw me.

“Are you okay?”

I hear the voice from somewhere above me. It goes on to say:

“See, this is a really good lesson. When you see someone take a bad fall, you stop and make sure they are okay.”

I pick my head up out of the snow and look up. A young female ski instructor and 10 six year olds surround me. I’ve become their lesson for the day.

She sends one of them back up the mountain for my ski, which has detached from my boot during my trajectory. She helps me stand up and reattach my ski. All the while, I’m trying to talk her out of it.

“That’s okay, I’m going to walk down. It’s probably safer for everyone.”

She won’t hear of it, and, look, even better, they’re going to help me.

So instead of being able to sink back into obscurity after making a complete fool of myself, the six year olds are going to escort me down the mountain to make sure I don’t take anyone out on my way.

Thanks!

Is it any wonder it took me ten years to go skiing again?

Happy President’s Day!

I Heart NYC

2006-01-26T22:05:00.000-05:00

So, I’ve been feeling a bit nostalgic for my old stomping grounds lately. Not that I’m unhappy here, BUT… there are just so many things that I miss about NYC that can’t be duplicated on the south shore of Boston. So, for your reading pleasure, a short list (in no particular order) of what was awesome about living in, what I consider to be, the heart of the world:

1. Walking to work – The Bloomingdales buying office is located at 55th/3rd Ave, my old apartment was 62nd/1st. That translated into a 15 minute walk each way, and it was the perfect way to start and end the day. Ya know, vs. driving anywhere from 25 minutes to 90(!) in order to get the 13 miles from my house to the buying office here.

2. Taxi’s – Not having to deal with car ownership in any way, manner or form. Having someone else chauffeur YOU around. Yeah, you pay for it, but a hell of a lot cheaper than having to deal with weekly gas fill-ups ($40), oil-changes, new tires, new brakes… the list can just go on and on.

3. Shopping – There is just no comparison to NYC when it comes to shopping. And everything in my backyard, or a short taxi ride away. The 4 B’s: Bergdorf’s, Bloomies, Bendel’s, and Barney’s. Not to forget about 5th Avenue in general. And the cute little boutiques downtown. Shoe stores on every corner. I could feed my obsession with handbags whenever I so desired. Oh, and for that off-price treasure hunt… Century 21 – there is no other like it.

4. My job – There really is no better buying job than working for Bloomindales, i.m.o. We were the shit. Vendors wanted our business and would bend over backwards to make you happy. Not that I was accepting $ under the table (though there are those that do), but it was a great feeling to walk into a showroom and know that you could negotiate for just about anything because you were Bloomingdales. “You want a guaranteed 52% gross margin and ending inventories?” SURE!

5. Having my family living closer than 200 miles away! Mom and Dad at 48th/2nd, younger brother in Battery Park City, older brother in Brooklyn (as of last month, b4 that he was living with my younger brother). There really is something to be said for having your family in close proximity. And you really don’t realize it until they’re not.

6. Food – I’m talking about having everything walking distance from me… Diner to white glove Chinese food and everything in between. Oh, and real Jewish food. I certainly can’t find that here. Ya know, bagels, lox, whitefish, herring … mmmmm… Also, there is no decent pizza or Chinese food within 25 miles of me. 25 MILES. That’s just not right.

7. Bars/Clubs that don’t close at 1AM. That’s right, last call is at 12:45 AM. On a Saturday night! WTF? What’s up with that?!?!?! Frikkin’ puritanical state! ‘Nuff said.

8.Live music – The ability to go out any night of the week and be able to catch excellent live music somewhere.

Well, that’s it for now. Because the more I type this, the sadder I get.

Lessons recently learned

2006-01-06T12:10:00.000-05:00

Never sit on your bed with a glass of red wine playing on your laptop when there is the opportunity for your 8 year old son to scare the ever loving shit out of you by popping in unexpectedly when he is supposed to be sleeping.

Zout takes red wine out of beige duvet covers and white down comforters.

Said red wine will make your work laptop go pfzzzt and die suddenly, even after you think you’ve saved it by mopping up the spillage on your keyboard.

The head of IT here is a really cool guy and his sense of humor is particularly evil.

That jdate boy really is an asshat.

i ended up here... how?

Have you done this yet?

Update your bookmarks!

Go Here Now

What did I do??!!

Replies

Flashes of the past

My bitch

The Muppet Personality Test

You know you're vain when

It's definitely not turning out to be a good Monday.

A public service announcement

The verdict is in.

Turning over the reins.

The Joker

Big news!

Favorite movie quotes Friday V

Caution. Expletives ahead.

The Devil has a new Playground

The buck stops here

Memorial Day is not just for our Soldiers

You were expecting... what?

The bitchfest begins

How long before they're teenagers?

Sold

Favorite movie quotes Friday IV

I'm it

Must Love Jaws

Shoutout

A lesson in what NOT to do

Priceless

It's all about YOU today

You think so, huh? Well, I'll show you!

Just sayin

Oopsie

Low man on the totem pole

Friday Random Five

Favorite movie quotes Friday III

Anyone got a gun?

Throw em all under the bus....

Understanding

My new home

I'm "rarely stupid!" Yay!!

Circling the wagons

Give up my Seven's? Never!

The Letter T

Oh my fucking G-d!

Favorite movie quotes Friday II

Be free

Bad Robot

Archives

What a girl wants

Expectations

My love affair...

Wonderful views

Favorite movie quotes Friday

Parenting 101. Or, what my mom forgot.

Into the great wide open

If it's not one thing...

Blogging for books

One track mind

I have no brain...

A new look

Oops, I did it again!

Guilty disclaimer

The Smoking Donkey

I'm warning you, there's no funny here.

Random thoughts

Round and round she goes, where she stops...

The best laid plans...

Baby steps

Game over

Birthday dinners and forgotten memories

Things you can't explain

Validating oneself...

The joys of home

A juggling act

Back to the beginning

A whole world of I don't know

Sometimes it rains...