So....insert witty blog title here...

Yeah... I got nothing...  At all.

I need to blog but I don't really have a subject.  I can tell you about what I've been eating.

French fries.  I have become even more addicted to french fries.  McDonald's french fries.  Recently, I discovered that I like them dipped in hot fudge.

NO, I'm not pregnant.

Last time I checked members of the opposite sex want to have... you know actual sex for that to happen and I can assure you not one damn member of the opposite sex wants me in that way.

Let's see what we can cover.

Love life:

As mentioned above.  No one wants me in that way.  This is not for lack of me trying.  A good friend of mine said that I shouldn't look to be with anyone until I am happy with myself.

I am happy with myself.  I actually for the first time in probably forever have no issues with myself.  I am okay with my weight, I am okay with the fact that I have complete and total bursts of utter inappropriateness.  I am okay with the fact that sometimes I can be shy and sometimes I can be the most gregarious person you will ever meet.  I am okay sitting at home with myself and doing nothing.

I am happy with myself.  The only thing that I am not happy with about myself is that I can find anyone that happy with me the way I am happy with me.  And I'm not looking for love, I'm looking for... just someone.  I'm wierd and crazy, and sometimes moody and all I want is someone that's okay with that and maybe a little of the same.

I blogged a few days ago about how I was over someone and that I didn't care anymore.  That was a lie.  I mean every day that goes by something happens that makes me want to punch him.  Hard.  But I'm not going to lie.  If he showed me the slightest bit of interest I would probably melt like a snowman in Tahiti. That actually pisses me off but there's a reason behind that.


Work life:

That area of my life is a little bit more interesting. Things are being shaken up there and I am neither happy or amused.  In fact people that I love dearly are talking about going away.  I don't like that.  At all.  I want them to stay and I want other people to go.  I can't make people stay nor can I help make people go but still....  I love them.  We're like a big family.  And just to prove we are close I can tell you with absolute honesty that we have been bouncing the same cold in varying degrees around for maybe two months.  Seriously.  LIke a huge waltons style family.  I love my work family.  I would do a lot for them and wouldn't trade any of them for anything.

Family:

My mom is still being my mom.  Which is to say that there are moments when she forgets that I'm 35 not 16 and she basically decides my life for me.  I am dealing better with these moments.  I tend to listen, take to heart her advice and then completely ignore it in favor of doing what I want to do and then look back in retrospect and realize that she may or may not have had a point and maybe I should have done something her way.  But then that's every relationship with mothers and daughters.

My daughters have, thanks to my aunt and my mother, acquired tablets and cell phones.  This means that I am no longer needed for entertainment.  At all.  It is now so freaking quiet in my house that I'm pretty sure if I screamed, no one would hear it.  On the upside though, my girls actually contact me now.  Now that they have texting and whatnot, I get random I love you texts and whatcha doin? texts.  It's great.

Health:

Not so awesome here.  Like I said above, I finally caught the cold/flu we've been passing around work and OMG!  I'm not sure but I was fairly certain for a couple of days there that I actually was going to die.  And if it would have stopped the nose blowing, the coughing, and the sore throat, I would have given myself gladly over to death himself.  I still have the breathing problems because hey!  I have asthma that really sucks and my voice still sounds like that of a great groan man but with those I can so deal.  Well not with the no breathing.  I have good nights and bad nights with that.


So have I missed any facet of my life?  I'm pretty sure I covered it all.  If I missed anything, let me know.  Until then, stay frosty!!

So this has been a fairly bad (But fairly productive) week...

Bad because last Saturday night, whatever I have been dodging by working with patient zero FINALLY caught up with me and punched me hard.  At the end of the call back shift Saturday night I had such little voice that I had to wait until I got to a stoplight to text my manager for the next day to let her know that I was feeling like shit because I didn't have enough voice for my text to talk feature to pick up.

Stop looking at me like that, yes I text while driving but not actually text.  The text while talk lets me keep my eyes on the road and I really only do it at lights anyway.

I'm withering from that look.  And you know who I am talking to.

Anyway, Sunday Morning, the awesometastic Ambs texted me and said not to come in and to get some rest.  She is awesome have I said that?  She is.  I probably didn't get out of bed until like two in the afternoon and then I firmly ensconced my tushie on the couch and crocheted until the girls came home.  But I should go back and explain Saturday.

Saturday was one of those nights at work.  Just one of those nights.  K was out sick so J1 asked the drivers (Which I was that night) to stay an hour later which meant that J (or rather for the purpose of this blog, since I try not to use names, shall be referred to as J3) had to stay until 10:30, F was free to go at 9 (which she did, happily) and I was there until 1130 (No big deal I'm okay with this because aside from listening to J2 talk (whine) and talk (complain) and talk (bitch) all night I get tips because people tend to tip females on Friday and saturday nights so I was totally fine with this PLUS, I was headed into overtime so... yaya!)  At ten ten J2 decided to let J3 go which, he had been there all damn day, so awesome!  At ten twenty J2 decided to let me go which left him with only 1 driver for the next hour and a half and if anyone has ever worked pizza, you do not want to have only one driver on Saturday night.  You just don't.  But despite anything and mostly because my throat already felt like the highway to hell, I left. I got to Walmart and bought my over the counter drugs to feel better and made it 90% of the way home before J2 texts me talking about one driver and six orders on the screen.

In no happy alignment of the universe are six orders going to line up perfectly for one driver to take.  I doesn't happen.  It's one of those miracles that not even God can make happen. Not on a Saturday night.  I ask him point blank if he needs me.  He says yes so I hotfoot it back to work.

OMG total and complete chaos.  That is the absolute only way to describe what I walked into.  He seemed to have run out of everything on the make line so there's all these lexans on top and he's kinda working around them but I don't know how.  I take a double, T takes a triple.  I get back and need to take a triple because T has one waiting for her in west bumblefuck. (In retrospect she probably should have taken the triple as I had to have a remake because I tripped on the carpet and dropped the third person's pizza on the carpet outside of their room... Seriously doubtful T would have been that clumsy.)

The whole time B was there.  At one point he was putting the bags in the trash cans for J2.  I noticed that J2 sat and texted while I did the cut table for some of the time.  While the make line looked like D day but... No judgements. (Total judgements)

I'm sorry to say that my burning throat put aside my need to have at least my makeline look decent and I walked away after the second run and left.  I was not going to stay and help clean for someone who was on his phone texting when he could have been cleaning before.  And it sounds totally mean of me, but I don't care what time he finally got out because a lot of Saturday night could have been avoided if J2 had just done what J1 wanted and kept drivers until the hours that J1 asked the drivers THEMSELVES to stay.

But whatever.

Sunday as I explain was spent in a nyquil/Dayquil haze.

Monday I was feeling better enough to go get steaks and potatoes to fix the girls an actual dinner and we sat and played life and watched Twilight breaking Dawn until bedtime.  It was nice to spend time with my kids.  They are awesome.  Tuesday I crocheted.  nothing really happened.  Wednesday I did go into work but I had developed a cough by them so J1 promptly sent me home.  Like I did some stuff off the clock but Mommy brough K to the store because she picked her up from school and was going to pick up pizza for the girls and take them home but J1 was like "Go home.  We're dead and you're still sick.  Go home."  Thursday, I still had the cough but I made it through work so yay!!

Now today was a special kind of hell in itself.  I got like maybe five hours of sleep last night because my asthma has decided that even though the cold seems to be about done with me, it is not.  So last night was spent trying hard to breathe. Like almost needed to go to the ER trying.  I would have gone but I could barely breathe long enough to sit up right did you think I was gonna try to drive?  And call an Ambulance and have no way home when they finally release me?  No.  Just no.

Managed to get to sleep about three ish for K to wake me at 730.  I had to get up and get dressed because I had my very first rehab for my shoulder today.  Got there and had to walk so far because the directions said to park in the garage which was around the bloody corner but only for me because I had an old copy of the directions instead of the new copy that said to park in front of the damn building.  Did I mention that it was freaking cold?

Got there and waited like forty minutes to be seen in which time I helped one woman open a door that she thought was automatic while the receptionist just talked on the phone pretending to ignore said woman because well... she was confused about a door. (There was a pad on the wall that says wave your hand in front of it for the door to open.  She waved her hand in front of it maybe thirty times and the door stayed shut so she thought it was broken.  I had compassion for two reason.  One she was old.  Like way old.  She had a cell phone but it was one the oldest flip phones I had ever seen.  I think it might have been a cousin to the original razor. The second reason was because the exact same pad was on the outside of the door and I had stood there for five minutes waving my hand in front of it like an ass before figuring out that I would in fact have to use the door knob.)  Then a woman that bathed in perfume came at sat next to me which started a coughing fit.  When I moved away she said "Thank you because honey, I do not want to catch what you have."  To which I replied "I have asthma and whatever perfume you bathed in is setting it off."  She got offended.  My excuse, when there is sever lack of oxygen getting to my brain, please don't expect the guard at the gate between mouth and brain to be conscious to do anything.  Then I got called in and stat there while the woman told me that since I am a medicaid patient, they can't do anything for me because medicaid doesn't cover therapy.  Like I'm sorry, was this not something you could have told me over the phone yesterday when you called me?  Like ever?  Cause an hour of my day or more was just really wasted when I could have been trying to catch those Z's that were so elusive last night.

Anyway, went to get breakfast, took my boss a espresso shake and then came home and crashed like it was the end of a hard day only to be woken by mom.

So now I am off to work.  I am hoping that today is going to be okay.  IT's going to be a long shift.  I like those but sometimes when I'm feeling like maybe forty percent they can be killer.  But I'm not the type to complain and honestly I put two complaining statuses up on FB already so I'm going to hold all complaing for a week.  I'm not a complainer...

Please go let tonight be a good night!

Stay frosty bloggers!!

French Fries and Vodka...

So first off, Happy New Year.  I know that my last blog only hours ago was basically along the lines of fuck the new year but I'm going to stick to the cliche and say, that's in the past.

That being said, knowing that the object of last years affection had a slightly shitty start to the new Year is kinda helping fuel this level of happy.

The vodka in my McDonalds orange Hi-C isn't hurting either.

And French fries!  Drool love french fries.

I also said I wasn't going to make a new years resolution.  I guess I lied because all the way home tonight I thought of just one thing.  I am done having crushes on men.  I'm done giving any piece of my heart to a guy and he treats it like shit.  This year alone, one person has made me doubt myself more time than even my ex husband did and I tried to commit suicide twice because of him. This guy...

So I spent the last three or maybe four months beating myself up because I wrote a blog that basically called him a whole bunch of names that a man should never be called and he saw it.  I beat myself up, I cried, I yelled at myself, I even stood in the mirror and degraded myself so bad I made myself cry and needed to take a headache pill.

But I never took the blog down.

I convinced myself that I didn't mean any of it and it was just the angry ramblings of a woman that doesn't have any other outlet than her blog.  I told him that it would never happen again.  I apologized more times that I think any human is allowed to say they are sorry in a given year.

But I never took it down.

Tonight, I realized, that I never took it down because deep down, I think I still believe everything I wrote.  I have taken down blogs before.  Usually when I realize that I'm doing more harm than help and it just needs to be like it never was.  But this one, I left.  At one time I did mean to take it down but I didn't.  I just couldn't hit the delete button.  I could not make that particular rant never there.

Do I still want to call him all of those names?  No.  I never want to call any man those names.  Maybe the guy who is going to inevitably throw the switch that starts my lethal injection but no, I never want to call any man those names again.

And I don't wish him any harm in the coming months.  But I also-- and I can't believe this is actually coming from my fingers-- don't wish him any comfort in the new year.  I don't wish him anything.

Several time this year I handed my heart, as broken and bruised as it already was, to him and almost every time, he tore it just a little more and handed it back.

Even my ex husband didn't do that.  He fucked with my head but he never touched my heart. That was a place that even he didn't go.  That is particularly one of the reasons that he still holds a place in my heart.  I would be a character witness for him if needed. I can't say my testimony would help him, but I would be there.... If he ended up in jail, I would make sure his mother and sister came up with bail money.  I might even contribute ten bucks. (Twenty if it's his weekend to have the kids...)  The point is, when a man fucks with your head, you can bounce back-- even if you have to bounce off a few padded walls for a bit.

But when a man fucks with your heart, you don't bounce back.  You take an extreme liking to shiny sharp things.  You become a stone figure of who you used to be.  You lock whats left of that fragile organ away and very few people ever get to see it again.  I dare say that if you've been hurt enough, you lock it away so far and hidden that even you forget it's there.

Now, don't get me wrong, if Mr. Wonderful is still out there someone needs to update his GPS so he can get here.  I'm putting away my heart but at the moment, I still have the key and the ability to let it out again.

Maybe.  I'd like to think I do.

But there will never be another moment when I hand it over to a person that is going to use it to put out his cigarettes.  As of right now.  My heart is no longer and never ever will be again an ashtray.

To that guy, I will say this one last thing.  You had a chance at a good woman.  I am worth more than you think.  I am honest, and loving, and compassionate and you treated me like I was fat and ugly and not worth ten cents.  I cried more tears over you than any woman should cry in a lifetime.  And now I have reached the end of the line.

To him I can say this.  You reached the worst possible outcome with me:

I no longer care about you.  I don't care if you are happy.  I don't care if you are sad.  I don't care if you feel well. I don't care if you didn't sleep well, didn't eat well or if a butterfly flapped it's wings in Bolivia and you have a headache.  Live with it, die with it, do whatever you want.  I. Don't. Care.

Read this or don't.  Call me on it or don't.  Tell me that I've betrayed you or don't.

There are a few people in this world that can verify that when I stop caring about you.  You have lost something very valuable.  If you watch HIMYM, then you understand the picture.  If not, I can't help you.

On that note, I am going to bed.  I have to be up for work by ten.

I hope that everyone has a good new year and that everyone was safe bringing it in.

Stay frosty!

Can I just say Fuck the New Year?

I mean really... I just wanna say Fuck it and keep on trucking.

Christmas was great, Thanksgiving was good.  But the New Year?  The New Year always sucks.  Every year.  Every single effing year.

Even when I'm with my friends on New Years because they have SO's (Significant others) so they have someone to kiss at midnight.  Not even when I was married did I have anyone to kiss.  Randy always chose to have 24 hour duty that night and if he didn't he went out with his friends because we were usually in the North.  Upon reflection I realize he was probably with the horse most of those years but still...

NEver once have I gotten the midnight kiss.  And it sucks.  I get the 12:02 kiss because someone looked over and realized that I was sitting there in the corner looking like I was going to cry.  But never the midnight kiss.

It's kind of like always being the bridesmaid and never the bride.

Did I forget the warning that this is going to be one of those blogs where I whine?  It is.  I'm going to.  This is your only warning.

I have never enjoyed the new year.  I'm  always single and watching my friends be happy.  It's kinda like every other day except that this is the day where it's socially acceptable to be pised drunk and blame the inevitable crying on  the masses of alcohol in your body.

So the majority of this year has been spent really wanting to be with one guy. It's a guy that I work with and really really like although sometimes I don't know why.  He's smart, he's funny, and he's handsome. (Well I think he;s handsome.  NO one else seems to think this.)

I went out with him once and we spent the summer talking about then I fucked up royally and let my nager get the best of me and did something really stupid.  And I lost him.

He and I have just started talking again and I invited him over for new years partly because I still like him and partly because I really don't want to be alone at midnight.  I am totally willing to sit and watch tv with him JUST so I won't have to be alone.

But three people know that I invited him and two of those three people said in the flattest voice I have ever heard "He's not going to come.  He might say he will but he won't"

Just once I would like to live in one of those worlds where your friends actually help you get the guy.  They talk you up and try to get him to see that you would be good for him.  They try to make him see that giving you a chance would be a good thing.  They urge him to ask you out.

But no, I live in the real world where people are brutally honest with me and tell me that no matter how hard I try he's never going to like me that way and I'm wasting my time.  I live in the real world where none of them notice how much their brutal honesty makes me cry and how shitty it makes me feel that once again I have feelings for a guy that not only doesn't seem to like me but that they find unacceptable

And God himself help me (or them) if one more person tells me that they think I can do better.

If I can do so much better then where the fuck is the guy that I can do so much better with?  Huh?  Where?  MAybe you guys should find him for me because obviously I can't.  His GPS seems to be broken.

Just once can I have someone that I want?  Is that so hard to ask of life.  Of Fate, of God? Of whomever is in charge of such things?  Am I really supposed to live in a constant state of wanting to lock myself in a closet instead of watching people I love be happy because them being happy only makes me that much more miserable because I have no one to be happy with???

I'm thirty fuck five and I have nothing to show for it except grey hair and three teenagers.

Don't say it!  I KNOW my kids are awesome and fantastic and all of that but I want love.

How am I so wrong to want that?  How am I so wrong to want that one guy that sees me and smiles?  That one guy that drops a kiss on my forehead just because.  That one guy that when we leave the room leans down a drops a peck on me just because?  How am I so damn wrong to want that?

Man, fuck the new year.  And fuck new years resolutions.  They never happen.

I woke up this morning crying.  I've been crying for the last four hours.  I've also been drinking water because God forbid I go into an asthma attack because dehydration or some stupid shit because of crying.  I need to stop crying because I have to go to work in a few hours where I have to pretend to be a sane human being and not cry.  Not that it's going to matter because everyone there is so damn happy with their lives that not one of them really notice that mast days I want to jump off a fucking water tower.  I guess I'm that good at making people think I'm happy.

Maybe I should be an actress.  I seem to be good at it.  No one outside of the maybe two people in the world that read this know that I tend to wake up crying and go to bed crying.

Next year I will turn 36.  I have no desire to see this day.  I would rather walk into traffic tonight than see this next year.

Sometimes I wonder if I was to just fall down dead would anyone but my mother and kids care?  And would even my kids care since now that live in the world of ipods and tablets and cell phones?

One should definitely not blog when one has had nothing but water to drink.  Especially when said water never seems to make it to her bladder because it keeps falling out of her eyes.  One should realize that she lives in the real world where he friends will always tell her that the guy she likes is never going want her.  One should really stop referring to herself as one.


Fuck the fucking new year.  Fuck it all. Fuck Fuck Fuckity fucker fucking fuck.

I need another cup of water, I think I have finished crying out the last one...

Holiday madness

First off let me start with a little bit of a gripe...  If I make Chocolate chip cookies and follow the nestle toll house recipe, my cookies come out flat and they don't taste that great.  If I follow the Ghirardelli recipe they come out all nice and fluffy.  Dude, WTF??  I guess I'll know which recipe I'll be following from now on...

So as usual the holiday bring madness and rushing and general crankiness.  I'm rushing because I have no time.  When I have time, I have no money, and when I have money and time I have zero motivation.  The holidays aren't what they used to be for me.  See I was an only child growing up.  I was my moms only so Christmas time was when the little spoiled girl got to be even more spoiled.  I remember the year my mom sat up al night trying to figure out how to connect my brand new NES to the television.  Six AM couldn't come fast enough.  When I was in high school I honestly don't remember any Christmas gifts I got.  I know at one point I got a computer but I'm not sure if that was Christmas or what.  I used the hell out of windows paint though.  Remember that program?  It was awesome.  I think I mostly got clothes during my high school years.  Why?  I don't know.  I wore two things.  Denim and my band uniform.  Pretty much that was it.  College don't remember the gifts I got Freshman year.  I mostly wanted to sleep.  My Sophomore year, they weren't so much Christmas gift than  Wedding/ Baby gifts.  After that Christmas gifts for me?  Are you kidding, hell no.  That year I had one baby, the following year I had two babies and the year after that... I had three babies.  My family was so busy outfitting the kids that I was often left with a pair of slippers of a nightgown so I came to appriciate the little things.  Hell year I would take that nightgown!  It signified that one day soon, I might actually be able to wear it for a whole hour without a baby spitting up on it or throwing baby food at it and that one day oh praise Jesus I might get to ... sleep in it.

As my kids got older, I came to look for the... and I'm sorry to call it this but there really isn't any other word... crap that they made at school and brought in the ten cent santa store that came to school.  I had beads and baubles and macaroni hand sculptures... The list was endless and I loved every single one of them.

But the Holidays as a single mom are way different.  Every year I have no money.  Every year I scrounge around for at least something to put under the tree.  Two years ago I asked for donations because I was sick of my kids never having a good Christmas from Mommy.  I was sick of every year, Daddy going out and outdoing anything I could possibly do by a million miles.

And then there's the fact that I only enjoy every other holiday because I only have my kids every other holiday.  I have them this year.  So this year I love the decorate and bake for others and to make other happy.  Next year, Oh I'll be a true to heart grinch next year.  (I will also hit the after Christmas day sale and get the best presents at half off and wrap them like a pro and make them look like they've been there all along.)

THis year, I'm working but instead of being able to save up money for gifts, I've been doing the responsible parent thing and paying the bills.  Paying them so well that nothing has been turned off but at the same time, the holiday fund is just not there.  I get paid on Friday.  On Friday, I have to go out and get gifts for my mom, my aunt, and all three of my kids.  Oh yeah, plus Olivia's birthday is Friday.  I have already ordered her necklace  Hopefully it will be here by Thursday night.

My kids are awesome though.  They know that there may be little under the tree from Mommy at Christmas but Taxmus is always just around the corner.

Never heard of Taxmus?  That's when mommy gets her income tax refund and they get the stuff they really want.  LIviy wants a new bed and bedspread.  Kayla wants a purple headboard for her bed.  I think LIvy might get her bedspread for Christmas and I will hit the yard sales and restore for Kay;as headboard and maybe I can sand it and paint it and decorate it  maybe paint some flowers or something.  I'll figure it out.  It will be nice.

So this year, I think I am going to get Kayla supplies for Gods eyes or some kit, Livy will get her bedspread for her bed that she'll be getting in February. I might get the boy a few tee shirts from Walmart.  Something that fits him.  Mommy wants a new housecoat.  I have no clue whatsoever what to get my aunt.  I think I will search the bookstores and find something along the ways of a new and interesting bible that I'm pretty sure she doesn't have.  Maybe I can find an autographed copy.  Pretty sure that's about the ONLY bible she doesn't have... I am so screwed.

I will find something.  Maybe I... no.

Oh well, I will figure out something.  let the holiday madness continue...

So usually when I don't blog...

It's generally because I have nothing to blog about.  I mean I can sit here and start a bullshit blog from time to time because it usually takes a form and away I go but sometimes, I just don't feel like bullshitting.  Also, sometimes, things just might be going so monumentally shitty in my life that I don't want any evidence of it online.  I don't want in any way to be able to look back at certain things in my life and say "Damn..."  I'm not going to learn from that, I'm just going to put myself in another funk that's going to suck more air out oy day in the future.

Today, however, I actually have a topic.  And granted it's one of those shitty things that I just said I don't generally want reminders of but this time, I think I need to put this online so that I can look back and remind myself that I've been here and treading this path again is not necessary.

Fair weather friends.  I hate them.

Everyone has one or two, some unfortunate people have three or more.

Now I'm not talking about that high school person that you have on your social media that you always see posting but you never really talk to.  Except for that one status out of a million random ones that they choose to remind you that they are there on.  Those friends are just long distance friends.  Even if they used to be best friends they are now long distance best friends.  When you travel home, you make it a point to see them, to coo over their children that you remember as small but now they're huge, Give them long hugs because they recently had a break up, admire because you just haven't seen them.  They are always your friends that want nothing but the best for you and the feeling is mutual but because of your distance you kind of exist on a plane that says "If I don't see you posting for like a week, not even a random share, I'm going to text/email you and ask you if you are okay because no matter what, we ALWAYS have updated contact info."

I'm fine with that friend.  This friend is awesome and always will be.

No, the 'friend' I am talking about is the one that you have a relationship that has slowly declined into one of you being a venting board for the other.  This friend calls you on random days to "check in" but right after they hear your voice and are assured that you are indeed still alive they launch into a guilt trip about not hearing from you in a long time or they skip right over that and launch into telling you about every single bad thing in their life that's happened.  They don't even notice that your end of the conversation consists of basically "uh huh" and "mmmm".  Nine times out of ten, when they're finished dumping on you about the shit in their lives, they have to go.  That tenth time, oh you're lucky then...  They break out the, "So what's going on in your life?" but the second you begin to tell them, they have to hang up.

This 'friend' also might do something as callous as say, call you in the middle of the night crying which, because they are your 'friend' or in my case one of my 'best friends', triggers that special part of you that wants to make their world okay.  Even if that means sitting up ALL NIGHT and talking to them (Again I refer to your end of the conversation being "Mmmm" and "uh huh").  And once you are wide awake and your sleep interrupted brain is trying to process whatever pain your 'friend' is going through (Which, if you are empathetic like me, brings your right down.) They feel better and... have to go.  You wanna commit murder on a grand scale of everyone that cause your friend the pain that made her call you at one am crying, but she's fine.  You chug a pot or two of coffee and you carry on with your day since you won't be sleeping anymore.  But warning, DON'T try to call said friend later that day to find out if they are okay because you won't get an answer.  And if you do, you will probably get told that YOU woke THEM up but it's okay because, "Lemme tell you about THIS SHIT..."

So you start to drift away from this friend.  You stop calling, you stop daily texting them, you stop reminding them that you exist.  One to see if they seek you out to find out how you are.  Two to try and remove yourself from their radar. and three, because you're just plain tired of being the one they call whenever something bad has happened.  Months go by and you get maybe one text and said text includes the lines "What happened to us?  You don't call, you don't text.  Did you forget about me?"

Raise your hand if that simple text has made you just wanna take a day trip to slap them.

So you feel slightly guilty and you go back to texting them and calling them once a week until you realize you've fallen into the same fucking pattern again and you are once again the venting board friend.  So you distance yourself... again.

Shit happens in your life but you don't call them because you don't want to be that friend.  The one that only calls when shit is happening and you need to vent.  Your momma raised you better than that.  Not to insult said friends momma but come on...

And then one day you look down at your social media and there's this message from said friend saying that they have been wanting to message you but THEY had to get over being hurt because YOU haven't called or texted to check in on THEM.

They wish you the very best in life and are sad that they have been forgotten by you.

Major guilt trip.

Only this time, you don't want to trip so you don't take the ticket.  Instead, you finally let them know why you haven't called or texted and remind them that the telephone does work both ways. You unload everything on them and hope that they finally see the truth in what your friendship has become.

But you know what?  You know deep down that that they won't see.  They'll be mad at you for a month and then they'll extend the olive branch back to you saying that they won't unload on you anymore and even though you can hear the underlying sneer in their voice because you pointed out that's what they were doing you agree to put it behind you and you start texting and calling again and you fall into the same damn trap all over again.

It's happening to me right now.  I'm waiting for her to randomly text me with the "i'm sorry, I didn't know you felt that way." text.

Sigh...  I was having such a good day.  My computer is back to working, I've been working on my room and can actually see my floor in parts now.  I even started my laundry so I'll have clean underwear.  And now I have a monster headache that is threatening to swallow me whole.  I think I am going to go retreat into Sim City solitude.

FUTURE DETTE:  When you read this, remember you've been in this cycle before.  Don't fall for it chickie, Cut them off.  They've handed you the scissors more than a couple of times now.  USE THEM!!!!

Stay frosty bloggers.  And stay away from fair weather friends.  Just stay away.

Happy December!

I just got back from P and J's for Walking dead night (Which turned into Walking Dead, Grey's Anatomy, and Once upon a Time but it's totally cool because we are bad asses who can do that and still function in the morning.... Well they can function in the morning, I have the day off tomorrow, so I'm going to climb back into my cubbyhole of a blanket fort and sleep till noon.)

I had one of those days that upon reflection can best be described as... interesting.  If you are male, you may want to stop reading.   Just saying...

I got up at seven this morning because I had to shower since today was the (insert sarcastic) yay! Pap smear... She wanted to do it last week but mother nature still had her claim on me and despite the fact that she looked me in the eye and said "So?" I refused to let her go up there with all that going on.  Just... no.

So today was the day.  It was supposed to be a quick in and out, pardon my saying.  But she pressed down on the tummy and serious pain radiated throughout my abdomen.  The kind of pain where you don't say ouch but visible tears not only spring to your eyes but fall in streams.  Yeah.  That kind of pain.  Which led to her going back up there to see what was going on.  Yay!  two speculums in the space of ten minutes.  Lucky me.  Suffice to say, this counts as an abnormal visit.  She asked me about my mother's menstrual history which is, you know something every daughter loves to talk about.  My mother started her menopause in her thirties.  This is a fact I didn't know until today when I outright asked her.  As a matter of fact, I was conceived not only because my mother wanted children but because pregnancy was supposed to stave it off for a few years.  Long enough for her to have a couple of kids and then go into it.  I didn't do my job.  It hit pretty much right after I was born.

But I didn't know all that so I told the dr it hit her at 40.  All I really remember was spending my childhood either freezing in the winter because my mom opened all the windows and turned on the AC in a blizzard because she was hot or suffocating because she got a cold flash in the middle of a heat wave and cracked up the heat...  Lewis then asked when my mom had her hysterectomy.  I said 2002 ish.  which would put my mom in her 50's.  Based on that and the fact that I had an abnormal in 2000 and today's exam and the fact that my periods have been increasingly late, she is sending me for an ultrasound.  Her prognosis... I may not even get to make it to menopause.  They may do a hysterectomy and cut whatever it is that's happening to me off at the pass.

I know I make jokes about me loving to have a hysterectomy and be done with it and all but in all honesty, I'm not ready for it to be over.  I'm not talking about sex.  If I ever get to have that again I know a hysterectomy won't stop that but even though my tubes have been tied for 13 years, I could still get pregnant via in vitro.  Not that I want to.  God no!  I'd never make it out of the great mommy loop sane if I had a baby now.  But the fact that I still could was always there.  And having a hysterectomy would completely take away that option.

My mom thinks that my weight loss may have triggered this sudden change in my cycle.  My doctor thinks I am a ticking time bomb.  Neither are being very re assuring.

Guys you may start reading again.

Somehow on the way to get the title to Auntie's car signed over, Mommy and I got onto the topic of the great fight of 2002.

My mom had just had her hysterectomy and she was in pain.  I get that and I don't know about anyone else's mom but when mine is in pain, NO ONE can be happy and very few people can do right and as her only child nothing I do is right.  I can't drive, I hit every pothole, I turn to fast, I'm too far over the line, I'm driving to slow, I'm driving too fast, I'm walking to fast, I'm patronizing her by walking too slow, the food's too hot, the food's too spicy, the food isn't hot enough, the food isn't tasty enough, that's too much salt, now that's too much pepper, I'm in an undeserved huff because I have to go back to the store to get what she really wants to eat... The list is endless and I do mean just that.  That particular visit (I was living in California at that time) I came home and we got into a major blow up which is to say that she bitched just a little too much and I blew my top and came back at her.  Big no no in my family.  Just bottle it up and never say a word.  I remember that fight because I actually took the train up to NY to stay at my mother in law's place and then the shuttle to the airport back to Cali from there instead of staying with my mom.

She pointed out that we didn't speak for almost a year after that one.  And to my utter shock, she said that she didn't believe that our fight had even affected me once because how could a daughter go almost a year without even calling to check on her mother?

First of all I wanted to distance myself because she did call.  Almost weekly.  And every single call that I answered started with, "If I am allowed, can I at least speak to my grandchildren?"  Seriously, why would I call to initiate a conversation with someone that called to give me a weekly guilt trip?  And her friends and the family we had up there kept me informed.  I did care, I just didn't feel like rehashing the argument or going on the guilt trip.  And we never actually worked that one out,. we just started talking again.  This past summer, we had another one of those fights and in the middle of it, she left to drive to NJ with my aunt.  The morning that she left on a twelve hour car drive (A 69 year old and a 56 year old, both women on the road for what turned out to be 14 hours), she sent me an email telling me she was leaving.  She didn't call, she sent an email. "We are leaving out of here around nine a.m. I will let you know when we get there."  That is what the email said.  She emailed me again when they finally arrived after I freaked out because they were on the road so damn long.  But when I pointed that out this afternoon, what I got was, "Well, I was hurt because you blew up at me."

Raise your hand if you remember that fight.  She called me an asshole and hung up on me.  But she was hurt because I blew up at her.  I would insert a gif of a confused eye roll, but why bother.  Just use the one above.

She said that it's so hard to know what makes me mad because she has to tiptoe around certain subjects for fear of making me mad. I refer you to the aforementioned gif above.   I told her that it's not tiptoeing around what makes me mad, it's that she needs to always keep in mind that I am 35 and have kept not only myself but three children alive for over 15 years now.  I'm an adult.  She tends to treat me like I am 16.  And not a good 16, more like a 16 yr old that gets in constant trouble and needs constant guidance on how to do everything but breathe and sometimes that too.  I almost said that she needed to let me run my own life but even that sounded way harsh in my own head so I didn't let that little pearl of sarcasm go forth.  She didn't like that answer but at that moment, we were at the bank to sign over the title and the conversation dropped.
I am quite certain that I haven't heard the last of this.  More certain than I am that the sun will rise and the Earth will continue to rotate.  And it will come up at one of the worst times.  I dunno when that will be but when things start going to shit, I will be expecting it to come up.

She also started in on the job and how it takes up my time.  I'm not even going to bore you with that one.  The conversation didn't go her way so again, it'll come up again.  And it will keep coming up until she gets the answer she wants which is, I will no long work weekends so that I can sit around with her and my kids while we all play on our phones and ignore each other in the name of family togetherness.  Cause you know that's always better than earning money that might one day enable me to get off section 8...

So anyway, My aunt officially signed her PT Cruiser over to me (my mom) this afternoon.  we went to get it registered and it came up as needing inspection.  We were on our way to get it inspected when I realized it had a flat tire.  Got it changed to the donut that I'm pretty sure has never been used in the 13 years she owned the car and was going to go get the inspection when my neighbor told me that they will not inspect it with a donut.  So it's sitting in my driveway on a donut.  But I can drive it to work and back because I have a 10 day pass.  I get paid on Friday so I will be getting the tire changed, inspected, and plates put on all before I go to work Friday night.

So life isn't bad, it's actually good.  I refuse to see the fact that my mom and I had one of those conversations or the imminent possibility of a looming hysterectomy   as the makings for a bad day.  I got a car today.  It's mine.  I can go back on the road a few times a week.  I.  Have.  A.  Car.

Vroom vroom baby!!

Alls good in the hood and I've taken my night meds.  (I will blog about that tomorrow) so stay frosty bloggers!

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Just for the record... I still want french fries...  Even after I stole french fries off of two of my kids' plates this afternoon, I still want french fries.  I think I might just have to solve this problem tomorrow....

So it was an AWESOME Thanksgiving today!!  It was bright and sunny and the most awesometastic thing of all??

I DIDN'T HAVE TO COOK!!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG!!!  So every year my mom and I discuss who's going to cook what for the holiday and no matter what, every year, I lose.  It's not a fight nor is it a competition, but no matter what, I lose.  Every year.  I get to procure the turkey and the ham.  I get to cook the rice and the vegetables.  I might even get to bake a cake or make cookies.  And I get to make the cornbread.  And while some of you are sitting there wondering, "Well Damn, what does Mom cook?"  Let me tell you.  Mac n Cheese (the baked kinds because Kayla LOVES IT), and a sweet potato pie.  She does however cook the ham.  And when she burns it, I'm the poor shlub who has to get in the car and go find another ham because I didn't go with my gut and get two hams in the first place because she swore she wouldn't burn the ham this year like she does every year. EVERY YEAR.  And I don't mean burn it like it's just a little well done, I mean burns it like it could probably substitute a bag of charcoal briquets in the grill burn.

Two years ago, we all went to Ocean City, Md for Thanksgiving.  My neighbor gave me this HUGE turkey.  Like over twenty pounds. We decided to forgo to ham because I put my foot down.  I was not going to be roaming a strange town trying to find an open supermarket trying to and ending up fighting someone for the last ham in the store.  Wasn't going to happen.  I defrosted the turkey, I marinated the turkey, I put my foot into seasoning that bad boy and I cooked him for twenty two hours.  The whole time share hotel was smelling good.  We could get off the elevator and smell that bird just roasting away.  People on the floor above us said that whatever we were cooking smelled awesome.

I woke up on Thanksgiving morning with a 105 degree temperature.  Mom rushed me to the hospital only for us to find out that I had double lung pneumonia.  On thanksgiving.  On bleepity bleeping Thanksgiving day after I had put so much work into that turkey, I couldn't stay awake to eat it and when I did wake up, I couldn't taste it.  I wanted to cry.  But I was also dehydrated so I couldn't do that.  So I slept.

And just to add insult to injury, I brought the turkey back home and made turkey soup out of it but what I didn't can to eat later, my kids gobbled up not leaving me any, my girls gave jars of soup to my neighbor and their teachers and the last jar that I forbade anyone to touch got invaded by ants.  So I tasted none of that glorious bird.  After that, I was finished.  No more, I wasn't cooking ever again.  Last year was the ex's Thanksgiving with the kids so Mommy and I drove up to Cherokee and ate at the casino.  We did the same for Christmas.  Let me tell you, that Indian Reservation knows they can fry up some chicken...

This year, we had the same discussion about who was going to cook what with the added bonus of where we were going to eat it and just for shits and giggles we threw in a healthy bicker about why we never have holiday dinner at my house. "No mom, you have never eaten a holiday meal at my house.  no mom, you haven't.  I don't remember that mom.  No mom, you haven't.  Fine mom, you have, I just don't remember it.  No, I;m not calling you a liar, I'm just saying I don't remember it.  Yes, mom.  Okay, mom.  No, I am not patronizing you.  Ow!!  Why'd you hit me??  I was not being condescending, I really don't ever remember you eating a meal at my house! Yes mom.  I'm sorry mom.  No, I still don't remember that mom. OW!"  That is how my end of that conversation went. And that was before deciding what to eat.  And I lost that discussion.  Just as I thought I would and I prepared to fight the late crowd at th store for my turkey because I didn't get my stamps until the 21st.  And even though I had already tuned into what I was going to make for Christmas (Don't ask me why, but my brain totally skipped over cooking for THanksgiving.) I had to rewind and think about cooking a turkey.  And lugging a turkey. Because even though she insisted she'd eaten at my house for a holiday dinner before, us coming over there with three kids and the meal was somehow easier than her sticking a chair in the back of her car so that she'd have something to sit on and coming over here.

I'm not shitting you.  This is how my mom thinks.  She would rather me put the food and the kids in the car and come over to her one bedroom (Technically two but her dining room is in the second bedroom) apartment than she put her barstool in the back of her SUV and come over to my house.

Do you see?  Do you see now why half of my blogs are about me going batshit crazy??  The people in my life make me batshit crazy.  I'm sane, I swear I try to be but it doesn't work.  Circumstances dictate that in order to live my life I must be crazy train crazy.

But then something magical happened.  My mom found coupons for buy one get one half off for Ruby Tuesdays.  She launched into this whole big long schpeal about how it would be better for us, and no one had to buy the stuff for the day and yada yada yada, (I kinda tuned out because my inner me was already singing "no more cooking!!") and then she said "So what d'ya think?" and I had to shake my head and ask "About what?" And she said "Going to Ruby Tuesdays for dinner?"  I looked the woman dead in the eye and said "You had me at, "You don't have to cook!""  To which she said, "I didn't say that."  I just blinked.  She smiled because she knew I was doing the happy dance in my head.

So yesterday afternoon, the ex dropped my son off here and OMG is that boy tall!!  At his birthday, he had me by a good two inches but now, I think he has me by maybe three or four.  HE's going to be tall.  And I expected it because on my side of the family, there isn't a male under six foot two and in Randy's side of the family, there isn't a man shorter than six foot unless you count Randy at 5'9 and Uncle Momo (I shit you not that is his name) who just clears five two.

Of course I had to document this.  It's not often my son comes to visit.

 Can you tell that my son brings out my goofy side?  He totally does.  I thought once that he was driving me crazy, but as it turns out, that train was already speeding along the track and he just made the ride a little more fun.  But just so that everyone is clear, no.  I was not ducking down for that picture.  AND NO, HE DOES NOT LOOK LIKE ME!!!  you have to see his dad to understand when I tell you that this boy is ALL Henderson.  There is no Wilson in him.  But then, I'm mom and moms apparently never see when their kids look just like them.  People swear I look like my mom and both my mother and I swear up and down that I look like my dad.   In case you are wondering, my mom was chosen hands down as who I look like the most.  I think even my dad agreed when you put their two pictures side by side.


And also, my mom thinks that everyone that answered that I looked like her is smoking crack.  I still maintain that I am my fathers child.

So tomorrow, we're going for family pictures because in my last family picture, I was the tallest in the group.  As you can see, that was a few years ago and Jovaughn was actually standing straight up for that one.  I had him by almost a foot three years ago.

Damn that good old Henderson stock.  Hell Damn the old country Wilson stock (Or whatever my dad's real father's last name actually was.  Funny story, remind me to tell it sometime.)  But anyways, as you can see, I was the tall one there.  I am not the tall one anymore.  Jovaughn towers over me, Kayla has me by an inch I think, and poor little Livy hasn't hit her home stretch yet and is still the little one.  Her achievement this year was that she cleared five foot finally.  And it only took her thirteen years.

God!  Can you believe that as of the 19th of this month, I will have three teenagers?  The boy is 15, Kay is 14, and Liv will be 13.  I don't look that old do I??  Do I?????  If your answer was yes, go away.  Just go away now.  If your answer was no, I love you.

And that's why I don't get it when guys tell me that my having kids means they have to think twice about dating me because they'd be stepping into a daddy role.  Those kids, my kids are teenagers.  What else can you teach them.  They're pretty well raised.

Shrugs.  I should go to bed.  Eight am comes really early.

But I get pictures!!!  yaya!!!

I hope you all had an awesome Thanksgiving!  I know that I have thoroughly enjoyed mine to the fullest.

*Yawn* (Dammit that word made me yawn!)

Stay frosty bloggers!!!

So I really want French fries

But it would technically be shopping on Thanksgiving day if I put on some pj pants right now and went to McDonalds...

But on the other hand we are going out to eat for thanksgiving dinner so we'll already be shopping on Thanksgiving day...

I don't need French fries.

But I really want french fries.

I should go to bed.

Aw crap!  I can't go get french fries... I already took my night meds.

Damn.

I'm going to bed.

My son is home!!  Yay!!!!

Stay frosty, Bloggers!  I'm... (yawn) going to bed...

*Note, reading the word yawn, makes me yawn....

Twas the day before Turkey day

And all through the house, the only one stirring was being quiet as a mouse.  She brewed up some coffee and went to her room, in hopes that her daughters would be awake soon.  For this was the first day of Thanksgiving break and at ten minutes to ten her kids still weren't awake.  As she sat and sipped her coffee with cream, she thought that the silence just might make her scream!  She'd taken her night meds only eight hours before but some numbskull had telephoned her only twenty minutes before.  So sleep was now ended and she was awake trying to decided what form this mornings blog might take.

OKay, enough of that, I could sit and bullshit that all morning because I'm just that screwed up.

So lately, I've rediscovered a baser side of me that shall we say I was kinda happy when it went away?  Things that I want to happen are on my mind and they are reliving the last time I was in that situation which considering my strained relationship with the person I was last in that situation with is not really one of those things that I want to dream about.

Good news!  I cut the trazodone down to 100mg instead of the 200mg I took Monday night and I got my dreams back.

Bad news.  I dreamt about things that I really shouldn't have all night long. Around nine thirty this morning, some asshat called my phone and woke me up.  I attempted to go back to sleep but the part of my brain that loves to villainize a certain someone took the pretty happy libido inspired dreams and turned them sixty way from awful.  I think this is my brain warning me not to even try to walk that path again.  This time I'll be without shoes and walking on broken glass.

No, I'm not listening to Annie Lennox... why do you ask?

If you don't get that connection, you may not be old enough to read my blog.

So I've been listening to Taylor Swift's Blank space and I have decided that that little twit came out with a song that describes me right now.  "Find out what you want, be that girl for a month, but the worst is yet to come."  Yeah, that's me.  I pretended to like a whole bunch of crap that I had no interest in for the sake of making for a happy relationship and now I can sit back and wonder if I hadn't fucked up and put him off me, would I still be trying to pretend I liked that stuff?  Would I spend our whole relationship sitting and smiling through endless showings of Firefly?  How long could I pretend that only parts of Battlestar Galactica appealed to me? (And honestly I really think that I could have been hooked on that show if the Sunday night thing had continued but they didn't and I had time to come down from it.)

And I'm generally not like that.  I don't pretend to like something for a guy.  I'm pretty much straight up front when I come across a guy who is big into something like sports.  I will make your game day snacks and I will not bother you while you are watching your overpriced game of catch played by guys who really shouldn't be wearing spandex.  I will go away and write and you won't hear from me until said sporting event is over.  If your team wins I'm happy to help you celebrate.  If your team loses, you can touch my boobs until you feel better.  That's a happy compromise, right?  I can do that because honestly helping celebrate probably means I'm getting sex.  Commiserating after the team loses means, I'm getting sex.  I could totally be that wife.

And it's not like I would be the only one giving in that scenario because you gotta think, I'm a writer.  Just like Sundays when he ignores me for sports, there are going to be random days when I disappear into my writing and I'm not even gonna know you're here.  When I come out of that fog, I'm more than likely going to have just killed someone or have written a love scene so either way, I'm going to need comforting which might lead to sex or I'm going to full on attack and you get sex.

My kids are finally awake.  Yay!!  I think I'm going to bake today.  Livy has been asking me for some peanut butter cookies and I have a mind to finally indulge her.  Don't judge me, it's the holiday season, the one time of year when it is acceptable to abuse your oven on a daily basis and no one bats an eye.

I better get a move on.  I have to work tonight.  Maybe tonight I'll take some cookie to work.  Let's just hope I don't have to sit through another lecture.  I'm not going back into that.  If you didn't read about the new feature at my job where I get lectures every day, you can read it here.  That one didn't post to my Facebook so I'm not sure who saw it and who didn't.

Oh well, time to get up and pretend to be productive.

But after this song, it's like the ONE backstreet boys song I listen to all the way through all the time...

I'm gonna stop saying stay Frosty because tis the season for snow.  No Bueno.  I don't like snow.  So stay toasty bloggers!!