Back in the saddle?
Eh, close enough.
I may have some saddle sores, but I'm here.
****SKIP TO THE GOOD STUF******
Little one finished recovering yesterday,
and we had a great time together.
That was the upside of it all: lots of quality one-on-one time.
Mr. husband gets home today.
I can't even express how relieved and happy I am about this.
We are going to see "Chicago" tonight, which should be simply marvelous.
It'll just be great to be together, really.
I feel like I'm running a marathon that keeps extending its finish line.
I see the end, but then suddenly as I approach it, it recedes.
Like a mirage, I suppose.
I need to organize myself better.
I found this picture of my tattoo, from a few months after I got it.
I love how skinny I was.
I had straightened my hair the day of the picture.
And it's so blonde!
I'll have to scan in the picture so y'all can see.
The point is, I propped it up next to my computer and I keep seeing it.
I guess it's nice to compare yourself to yourself, rather than to some freak-of-nature super model that you could never be.
I have this great song in my head.
It's the hidden track from a matchbox 20 album.
I love it.
And it's making me think of stories to spin.
I can picture a boy, a boy who thinks he doesn't need anybody
and doesn't want anybody to need him.
A boy who claims he doesn't believe in love.
He is handsome, and so smart.
This boy, if he were real, would have a smile to light up a night sky--
a sky without city lights to drown the brilliance of the stars.
And deep, dark eyes.
It seems like this kind of boy wouldn't know what he wanted from life--
he would know better what he didn't want.
I do wonder, though, if a boy like this would ever be able to let go.
Would he be able to stop running long enough to see some of the universal truths of life--the happy kind?
Ok, so now I'm getting a crush on my imaginary friend!
I'm picturing a very sexy boy, with just the right amount of chest hair,
and a long lean body.
I'm picturing soft hands and rough movements.
I'm wondering how it would feel to nuzzle his neck, and have him nuzzle my breasts.
I'm imagining all the ways in which I would tease him toward a grand finale...
and the taste of that particular product.
Ok, well, so much for keeping sex out of this blog.
I mean...I never officially planned on toning back, it just hasn't been on my mind much lately.
Maybe it's the autumn, maybe it's the moon--
but everything feels foreign lately.
The wind whispers with a thick accent,
the sky is upside down,
and my entire center of gravity is off.
I want way more than my share out of life,
and it's a heavy load to carry.
It settles over me like a lead blanket...
as I wait for an x-ray of my head to be taken;
but don't look at the results...you'll be haunted and feel hunted.
yes, I'm a hunter.
I feel like a great jungle cat, or a sharp-eyed wolf--
but I don't know what I'm hunting.
My prey is elusive and amorphous.
I want to fling my fingers from their tight grasp on this life
let the tornado sweep me away to my own Oz.
Instead of munchkins I would have pool boys.
Instead of the tin man, the man of steel.
Instead of the scarecrow, a stoner.
Instead of the lion, a rockstar.
The witch would be some skanky blonde.
I would vanquish her with a bucket of water--
girls like that can't live without their props: makeup, hair gunk, etc.
And the great and powerful Oz?
That would just be me, wearing those glasses with the fake nose and moustache.
And I would laugh at how hard the other me had tried to get there, to only find I had the power to
I am tired.
Lack of sleep, lack of...
I hope you all have fantastic weekends, and do at least one thing that makes you very happy, and one thing that makes someone else very happy.
Just got home
from the ER.
Which is better than having the sweet child o' mine admitted.
But was still pretty fucking lame.
Dear sweet Jasmine saved my life by staying with Max.
And Oliver just had his second asthma attack.
The first was last November, and hospitalized him.
...because the stupid asses were treating him for the pneumonia he didn't have.
It was the exact same thing this time, but we learned from our mistakes.
So we're home.
Mommy's tired but he's wired.
So, tomorrow will be a sick day for both of us.
School can eat our respective shorts.
Movies and bed.
What happens when MySpace becomes my space?
Trust me, I hate myself for loving it.
But somehow, just like Joan Jett and her black, black heart(s)--
I can't break free from the things that it does...er...is
Whatever, you get the idea.
How much do I love Joan Jett, by the way?
(no, she's no relation to John Bytheway, a hilarious mormon youth speaker)
I love her a LOT.
And I blame Becky (the former blogger) for my fucked up and strange-but-almost-pleasant dreams last night.
I can't even get into the details, because, well.
It would be highly self-incriminatory.
Or just plain inflammatory, and who needs that kind of trouble with the free clinic not opening 'til 10?
(just a guess people, just a guess)
Ok, so the whole point of this is to say that I don't have time to blog today,
but that I did find some time *cough* procrastination *cough* last night to write something on STUPID MOTHERFUCKING MySpace.
It felt like blogging used to feel...I should probably blog here more often
...because I'm not scattered enough as it is??
I have this amazing project I'm supposed to be working on right now, and I keep having too many other (far less amazing) things come up.
I need some major stress relief.
I need to reduce, reuse and recycle.
I need to spew my stress out, in a stream of gutteral curses, wailed into a northern wind.
go to the top of a mountain.
And make a wish.
I should stop falling so much.
I should stop searching and maybe I would find...
I should stop.
And then start again.
I should focus on the important things...
wait, I already do.
I had the Beastie Boys slamming around in my head this morning,
when I took my Astronomy test.
They make quite a racket, if you didn't know.
They left a mess in there, incidentally.
But the test went well.
I love the crisp morning air as I walk to class from the stadium where I park my
I love the quiet of campus at the time of day,
and the man with his giant-foot puppy--
a hound, perhaps.
Giant feet, spindly legs and flop-o-potamus ears.
Ok, it's not the man I love--
hell, I don't even know what he looks like.
It's the pupppppy.
I want to snatch it up and nuzzle it and wrestle with it and throw a rawhide bone for it.
I want a life that includes a fucking goddamned puppy, for christ's sake.
I want a life that excludes doing things I hate.
campus in the morning=yum.
And then, I get to sit and listen to a wearing-away southern drawl explain where we came from
(star dust, just so ya know)
and how likely it is that there are other planets with intelligent life
(quite likely, it seems)
and how unlikely it is that we'll ever actually cross paths with them.
Fucking Astronomy 1080 kicks ass.
And it's easy enough that I'm not studying enough to ace it...
And then, a brisk walk to the other side of our enormous campus for
English class ever.
I like him, I do.
He's cute in a "loves what he does and is knowledgeable" sort of way.
But he doesn't invite discussion.
(super-deluxe incriminating section removed)
That's what my days are like.
It's a good life.
I say that a lot...
pretty soon I may just believe it.
I remember when I blogged on blogger and I felt anonymous--no, more like unknown.
Like I could explain things about "me" and people didn't already know!
I guess maybe that's why it's losing its flavor...
I feel like all my mysteries and histories and herstories...are laid out already.
It's like we're all old friends there, and it's lovely--
gorgeous, really, amazing, incredible, satisfying.
I have this need to be new and fresh.
Maybe I really should start over!
Maybe I really should start a new totally anonymous blog somewhere....
Yeah, I'm too fucking lazy, I know.
But we can pretend.
Blog me your heart and I'll tell you a tale....
(p.s. I think it's important that I shared that last little part with you all. It's like a break-through in therapy or something!)
So Im having a bad day. Sue me.
Good news/Bad news Combo Platter
Ok, so the good news?
I checked my Astronomy syllabus before choosing to skip class tomorrow.
The bad news?
I HAVE AN ASTRONOMY EXAM TOMORROW--
and I somehow managed to not be aware of it!!!
What the fuck??
Who forgets they have a test?
I am just damn glad I checked the syllabus.
So now, instead of a leisurely evening of starting a paper and reading some chapters of The Great Gatsby, and reading the chapter for Astronomy that I actually don't have to read because instead of learning about it in class tomorrow, we'll be TAKING A TEST that precedes it.
I hate it when I'm stupid.
I really do.
I seem to be oozing stupidity all over the place lately.
It's a problem.
I should get it looked at.
I'm pretty sure my brain power eroded during those 5 years of stay-home-mommy time.
Either that or the twins sucked it out of me with their fangs while I slept.
One of my dearest friends is getting married on Saturday.
She just decided yesterday, and it's happening in Maine.
I don't get to go.
Which is ok, but not optimal.
She doesn't really have anyone...and I would be there in a second if I could.
But my husband doesn't really agree with making emotional decisions,
and his list of "friends to die for" is non-existent, so he doesn't understand my need.
I pretty much knew it wasn't an option, and so did she, but I hoped.
I'm not going to wallow.
I'm just going to be excited for her, and send her an extra cool wedding present.
The last time she got married...
it was my 18th birthday.
And later that night, my boyfriend (yes the first love guy) showed up at my door.
Home on leave from one of the training thingies that first year of Marine Corps, and a complete surprise to me.
...he will be home from Iraq within 24 hours of when she weds this time.
Not here, not in Utah.
He lives somewhere else, far away from me.
I'm sure I won't see him again for a long ole time, if ever.
When I realized that connection, I got a butterfly feeling in my center.
Wish me luck on my stoooooooopid test.
tell me that having a degree means something.
Tell me that I should stick it out.
I'm so impatient, and unwilling to see the big picture.
Happy Tuesday to you.
(I wrote this last night, but Blogger is all fucked up, and wouldn't publish it. Gah.)
Mondays are for....
Yeah, you know what.
The touching and the slipping and the sliding and the laughing and the moaning and the
rest of it.
I guess you can figure it out.
We were washing the car.
Ok, maybe I'm just trying to watch Desperate Housewives...
(after the other stuff)
God, I love this show.
I was such a badass by boycotting it for the first few months it was on.
I gave in eventually, because everyone gives in eventually.
I should go cook some breakfast.
And finish my article.
Bree just had her first orgasm!!!
That was awesome.
Almost as funny as how she lost her resolve to wait for marriage to have sex with her fiance when he talked about cleaning techniques...
How could you not love this show???
(that was rhetorical; I don't want to hear it)
Dammit, they seem to be recycling storylines a bit.
I mean, hell, what would YOU do if your engagement party was interupted by a woman claiming your fiance had killed his last wife?
...not necessarily rhetorical, answer if you will.
Ok, I'm a dork.
I probably have something else I should be saying or thinking or doing.
So I will.
Wow, this is a waste of space.
How about I tell you a little story?
I could tell you about the time that I was so distracted by my sudden remembrance of the avocado and tomato in my fruit bowl that I can't write something cool.
...guac and chips for breakfast is ok, right?
I'll be back.
Friday the not-13th
Ok, so I am in the mood to do a little house cleaning.
No, not the french-maid-uniform-and-high-heels kind.
And not the on my knees working up a sweat kind.
(I really hate putting hyphens betwen every word; do you know how much that slows me down?? And besides, my fingers are small and I can't reach...)
What kind of house cleaning am I talking about, then?
BLOG house cleaning!
I love the freedom of having moved,
and I love that my stats counter now reflects a more realistic number of visitors,
and I love that I don't care that it's about 33% of my former traffic.
There's one more thing I need to do in order to feel carefree again.
I need to take down my sidebar.
and not at all sure of how to best go about it.
I need to keep all those links somewhere safe so I can still visit them when I have time.
I end up feeling so guilty every time I see that loooong old list of blogs I never ever visit.
I've been told I care too much about other people,
but I don't think that's possible.
Friends have always been of the most extreme importance to me.
My cute Mom used to tell me it was one of my greatest talents.
Aw...see, I told you she was cute.
Anyway...I just don't know how to write (my blog) without reading (others' blogs).
Maybe that's not the answer.
Maybe I should make a rotation for myself...
Like Monday I visit the first ten, Tuesday the second set of ten, etc.
Maybe that would work.
I just can't stand the thought of missing out on any of your lives....shh...what's that?
it sounds like Vanilla Ice....
but that's David Bowie--what the???
Yes, I'm feel rather Under Pressure at the moment.
I'm such a frigging spaz.
I used to be so laid back, but somewhere along the way, I've grown to be wound very tightly.
I should eat some Yoga-rt or do some Mediation.
Sorry...I'm feeling silly...using the wrong words is so jr. high.
I guess being a spaz keeps my life interesting, so I'll just continue to go with it.
I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do about my lack of reciprocity in the blogging department, but I'll keep working on it.
And to all of you who know I adore you, but I rarely stop by...
I wish I knew what to say.
I hate that I'm not eagerly reading every post as soon as it comes out and--
Maybe I can do one of those feeds!
then I don't have to feel tied to my blog list.
There's a thought.
I'm sorry this was so "Lisa's thinking out loud, and it's not even DIRTY!" today.
I have a sorta fun day ahead.
A nice list of errands, plus a FIRM COMMITMENT to going to the goddamned
I have had some pretty good, pretty valid reasons for letting that slide lately,
but the pounding waves of stress have ebbed and I'm slightly softer around the edges.
This is not acceptable.
Thank that chubby little pink baby Jesus for muscle memory!
Speaking of chubby little pink babies...
My dearest friend from childhood (the church version...for newcomers: I had a BEST school friend and a BEST church friend, and never the twain shall meet. Ok, they've met a couple of times, but they were my two separate worlds...ANYWAY)
She had her second baby yesterday!
Gorgeous, plump little girls both of them.
Her first is approximately 15 months old--YIPE!
She was a little overwhelmed by the quickness of her second conception, as you can well imagine.
I think they were not preventing it, but didn't think it would happen so quickly.
Gah. Isn't that always the way??
Oh, before I forget, Chris started writing the next book in his Amorlia
Now, if you haven't read the first one, read it anyway.
He is incredible and amazing and brilliant and creative.
He's pretty hot, too, but I suppose that doesn't have much bearing in this case...
Please go read.
You will not be disappointed.
and if you have time, go read the first volume, too!
I should do one of those showcasey-introduce you all to each other thingies.
Cuz some of you who aren't reading each other should be.
Maybe I'll do that next week...
Ok, so after I do my errands and go to the gym,
I have my weekly staff meeting/class and we are going on a field trip to the top newspaper in the city today!
It should be interesting and informative.
Then, I get to claw my way through rush hour traffic to meet Becky-the-unblogger for dinner before Seussical the Meuss-ical (sorry, it's just that you have to rhyme those words...) and then to meet up with some other friends.
A new girlfriend to meet.
I'm very excited.
Mr. husband may even join us if the babysitter can stay that late.
(she's coming at 1:00, so it would be a pretty long day for her if she did)
Ok, I guess I should quit stalling.
My list and my lipids are waiting!!!
Love and kisses and a really hot and intense groping to you all!
Oh...I almost forgot the best part...Pants
showcased this shirt on her site, and since I'm a consumer whore, I had to go buy it.
That, and well..just read it. I HAD to go buy it.
Speaking of my whorishness, dear sweet BigDon
may have suggested that I was being a blog whore by having ads in my haloscan: the answer to that is, for BHW I had the "premium" haloscan account and I haven't upgraded this one yet. So there. :P
I present to you:UnBridled Friday!
What the hell day is it?
I'm pretty sure it's
My head feels like...cheese.
Not head cheese, fortunately *shudder*.
It's possible that I drank too much wine with movie-watching-girlfriends last night.
No, it's more like probably.
OK, fine! It's definite.
Pin a girl down, why don't ya?
(oooh, yes...why don't
Well, so much for keeping this blog PG-13.
I do love the idea of starting fresh(ish).
I really want a spectacular template for this one, and I may even (gasp!) pay for it.
Well, I'll probably just pay with sex, but that's only because all the best web designers are hawt.
Take that as you will.
I am back to feeling like I have way too much to do and not enough time to do it...
remind me again whose bright-friggin-idea it was for me to actually TAKE CLASSES??
I mean, going back to college is all well and good--
sounds fun, right?
Sounds invigorating and mind-stretching.
It's just one more thing to add to the list of what to do today
I have lists of things I should have
done, don't you?
Today I feel alive and dead at the same time.
Today I feel gorgeous and glowy and...
Poetry to trickle or drip or rage out of me, eh?
I think it might be just
do you see it?
I know, it's such a long straight road, but that's a bend.
So far up ahead that it doesn't even look like the road and the sky are separate.
Maybe they're not.
Hey, does anyone know why my heart is designed the way that it is?
I wish you could see blueprints for a person's heart.
I think mine would have a lot of rooms in it with ornate name plates on each door and heavy locks;
not many of them empty.
It's crowded in there, and loud.
But I seem to have lost my master key...
Happy hump day to you!
(ha! tricked ya. You thought I didn't know what day it was...)
No titles are coming to mind today
Okay, so here's the thing.
I can't seem to decide what to do with this whole blog switcheroo business.
...as it turns out, I'm rather attached to the bored housewife identity.
I do NOT let go of things easily.
I'm sifting through my scattered thoughts to figure out the best course of action.
I will probably keep that blog open, for the access to archives
and old time's sake.
But I'm feeling like a lucky little sparkly star lately.
I think I'll chill here for a bit.
Feel free to update your links...and I'll let you know if I change again.
I love my template, but I feel like I should have a new one to go with this.
Possibly something starry.
We shall see.
Today was a good catchy-uppy day.
Hubby popped in for a quick sleep before heading back to the airport in the morning.
Running all over the country this week.
I will blog again soon.
I miss writing that way...
the way I used to.
I miss letting the poetry drip out of my soul like a leaky faucet.
I am that, for sure.
(sorry, just remembering one time when I got stoned and tripped over that word for a whole night...)
I built it...and I'm pretty sure you all came.
That sounded dirty.
I probably have more to say than I usually do.
And yet, somehow I have neither the focus nor the motivation to say anything.
This is my week to get caught up on everything.
Gearing up for a long couple of weeks without the husband figure.
Welcome one, welcome all....er, or something
I feel sort of giddy around the edges...
can you see it?
There is light filtering through the lacey border of me.
Er...did I just say I have a head like Swiss cheese???
Well I do.
I loved Orange's sugestion to add one of those little music player thingies with Madonna's "Lucky Star"!
I don't think I'm nearly motivated enough to figure out something like that.
Wait, hold on.
I think I'm going to try something...
I am going to try pasting my entire template here.
What do you think?
Will it work?
Don't go anywhere...I'll be riiiight back.
It worked! At least, for the most part.
It looks like even haloscan is working...???
I think the sitemeter will need to be changed, I haven't checked, but haloscan works without tweaking!
I will have to do some more picking and pecking, but it's like I just got a moving company to haul everything over here for me.
Now I just have to put a few things away and decide if I like my old furniture in my new house, eh?
We shall see.
The reception last night was lovely.
I wore my most evil-but-gorgeous shoes, and cursed myself for it the whole time.
I got to meet a few of my brothers' relatives that I've always heard of but not met.
(we share a mother, not a father)
I also got to watch the look on my mother's ex-husband's face as he watched her talking to someone else.
He was smiling.
I have seen them together on only one other occasion in my memory,
and it has always captivated me--
I feel a thickness in my chest;
not exactly a tightness, and not exactly a warmth.
It stirs me, you might say.
I can't stop the images from washing through my mind,
the images of their life together.
Ten years they lived together and raised their two sons.
My mother is still beautiful, but looked like Marilyn Monroe when she was young.
And he let her go.
I love his "new" wife, the woman he married 30 years ago (or slightly more),
but she is not so beautiful as my mother.
I think she has more backbone; I don't know if he prefers this or the ever-yielding perfection of my mother.
I do know that his doubts about mormonism--
and his realization that he was a young man with only one woman to screw for the rest of his life--
are what ended their marriage.
He sold a chunk of his farmland to buy a 4 karat diamond for some girl,
who then dumped him.
He begged my mother to take him back.
God love that woman and her seeming-spinelessness, she knows when to stand up to a man.
Fuck you, she said, or however that translates in Mormon-speak.
She lost her father the same year they divorced,
and one of her brothers was in a horrible accident, killing his wife and their child.
Bam.Those were her 3.
What are mine?
That was their story.
And so, it is strange for me to see them together.
My Dad used to be a very jealous man...
still is in some ways, but has chilled about her ex.
It helped that one time when he brought me a car from Maine
(yes, there were 2 times...possibly within 3 weeks of each other...hey! it's not my fault he brought me a car that caught on fire!!)
it was just him, and he got to spend an evening chatting with this unknown man who used to love his wife.
The wedding was this morning.
In the mormon temple, so only those "worthy" can go.
I am now off to the gym, and then I will be going to the wedding lunch!
The new and improved home of---
Have not had a chance to "improve" it yet,
but I will.
New template, move archives, add sidebar.
I feel like a lucky star some days,
other days I feel like I need one.
Once I even found one....
So, welcome old friends, new friends,
green friends, blue friends.
More to come.