Lucky, Lucky Star

As Tom Petty once said...

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Thu, 06 Sep 2007 18:33:00 +0000

It's time to move on, it's time to get goin'
what lies ahead I have no way of knowin'
but under my feet baby, grass is growin'
It's time to move on, it's time to get goin'.

Also, in the immortal words of the great Robert Plant--

Leaves are falling all around,
Its time I was on my way.
Thanks to you, Im much obliged
For such a pleasant stay.

But now its time for me to go,
The autumn moon lights my way.
For now I smell the rain,
And with it pain,
And its headed my way.
Ah, sometimes I grow so tired,
But I know Ive got one thing I got to do,

Ramble on,
And nows the time, the time is now
To sing my song.

So, yeah.
I'm closing the door on the Housewife and the Star.
Lucky and Bored, though they may be, they are mantles I must shed.

If you want to find me, please send me an email.

luckystar AT cdadirect DOT com

Thanks for playin'--

7th row, baby!

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Tue, 07 Aug 2007 01:43:00 +0000

The moment they took the stage I felt the thrill of witnessing one of rock's Legends shudder through my body.
I am not specifically a Rush Fan, but I enjoyed every second of their finely tuned and energetic performance.
You don't have to know their songs to feel the heat coming off the strings of that bass.
I recently read a book Neil Peart wrote about his bicycle trip through West Africa, so his was the most familiar face to me.
I couldn't shake the Ozzy Osbourne meets John Lennon look of Geddy himself, but it made him feel more familiar, which was cool.

I took a little self-portrait of Mr. and I, but the sun kepting jumping up and down behind us holding up rabbit ears, trying to ruin the shot.
Fucking SUN!

I darkened it up a bit because I think it's a cool shot of us anyway.

Two weeks from yesterday my classes will start.
One week later the kids start school.
Here.
We.
Gooooooooooo!

I knew I picked the name of this blog for a reason

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Thu, 19 Jul 2007 18:02:00 +0000

I am one lucky little star.

I knew it was a mistake to start talking about my marital issues on here, and I waited a very long time to do it.
I waited until I thought we were at a final decision.
3 rounds of back-and-forth later, I have realized that nothing is final in life, and I'll stop trying to make each step the last.
We have turned a corner, had new insight, gained fresh resolve.
I have hope.
I don't want to jinx anything by saying too much, but we are on the mend.
I am going to stop blogging for a while, stop focusing inward for a while, and just see how this goes.
I have life to live, and a partner who is finally ready and willing to live a joyful life with me.
And I think it's time to make some changes in my routine.

I'm sure I'll be back soon, but in the meantime, thank you all so much for letting me see into your lives and for peering into mine.

hugs all around.

Pictures!

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 17:38:00 +0000

Book group was lovely.
The forest fires are making the skies all grey; I hope they burn out soon--poor dear trees!!

Ok, I have just a minute before my friend arrives, but here are a few cool pictures from my trip--

Little boys who climbed every unstable rocky surface they could find:

A new bridge:

A fine example of the hilarious signage on the tortuous Maine roads:

...wait a second...we're going north and south at THE SAME TIME???
Whoa.

My light house, Owl's Head Light:

I lived in Owl's Head until I was 8, then moved a whole, entire TWO MILES away to South Thomaston for the duration of my youth.
My parents still live there and all of Owl's Head is swarmed with the extended family on my father's side (my Mom is a California Girl).
I asked my mom to see our geneology, but we never got around to it.
The gist is that my ancestors settled that cove in 1700 something.

Gotta run!
love you guys!

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Sun, 08 Jul 2007 14:29:00 +0000

The weather has taken a turn for the worse, but we're still having a great time.
There was a hail storm the other day, and for a minute I thought I was in Utah.
We've been on boats and to lighthouses and had seafood and fireworks and family fun OUT THE ASS--the ass, I tell ya!

I have been content to be away from everything, blog included.
There have been a couple of all-night conversations, culminating in a final decision.
We spent 5 hours in the car, drifting aimlessly.
We snaked our way through the night from the southern tip of Penobscot Bay to the northern edge and every road in between.
The fog held us in and the roads slipped away behind us as we hammered out the details of our new lives.
But it was like flipping a switch and suddenly--with nothing more to lose--we were able to speak freely, both of us.
It was unreal.
And then we came back to my parents' house and collapsed into the squishy double bed that feels like it's half the size of our king...
and he had reached the point in his mind and heart where he was willing to put it all behind us and start loving me again.

So here we are.
And the airline called on Friday to say that they had no pilot for our Sunday flight and we would be rescheduled to the Monday flight.
Yay for an extra day of vacation!!!

We caught up with some of my high school friends last night, one of whom I hadn't seen since we were IN high school!
We had a lovely time catching up on each other's lives and I am glad to see that the one girl isn't spending nearly as much time partying as she was the first couple of years she moved back here.
Bah.
We went to the bar and it was weird to not run into anyone I knew.
There were a handful of men who graduated 2 or 3 years ahead of us, and one girl who is the younger sister of one of our friends, but that was it for recognizing people.
That mostly just makes me glad for the other people...

We are, as always, considering what it would take for us to be able to move here,
and, as always, I'm sure the plans will fade from our minds as soon as we return to the desert-in-the-mountains.

BBQ with my cousins today, then packing up for our late morning departure from the house (afternoon flight).
I think the kids are all ready to get back to their routine a little bit, but they've had so much fun here and have really behaved quite well.
It's their birthday next Saturday and then they have a week of day camp--mommy's REAL vacation!
I think I'll spend the entire day on the treadmill for the whole week...ugh...
stress makes me eat, and this has been a pretty damn stressful year.
So back off.

I have lost several cool poems in the cluttered folds of my grey matter, but maybe I'll retrieve them some day.

Time is standing still, from where I stand

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Tue, 03 Jul 2007 18:03:00 +0000

Can you see me?
As the world spins by?
I am getting dizzy in this foggy, swirling bubble of stasis...

I am having a wonderful time here in Maine.
The first few days were kind of hazy because of the anesthesia still in my system, the jet laggy affect of getting up at 4am for our flight and the way it all fit together feels like I stepped out of my Utah Life.
I feel like that Life is back there, waiting for me, on pause like a forgotten movie in the DVD player...
I want to stay here for a few more weeks, at least.
I want to spend 35 more days at the beach with my little princes.
I want to eat 12 more lobsters and 8 more donuts.
I want to form relationships with these people again--
my cousins, who were my big sisters from when I was born until I was 8, running around in the woods, building a treehouse, teaching me to ride my bike, playing game after game--board games, improv games, dance routines--and ice skating, sledding, and building snow forts.
I want to be close to these many McMahans, who are part of my heritage.
I want to have more than one evening with my best friends--those I've known since I was tiny.
I belong here.
Utah fucking blows.
I hate that stupid, plastic, shallow, easy place.
I want to see it from a distance, not be drowning in it...everything looks better from a distance.

Anyway.
The trip has been fun so far and there are lots of fun things on deck to fill the rest of the week.

We spent the morning on my brother's lobster boat today.
Learning about the process, watching, and trying to stay out of the way.
It's still early in the season so they were just setting out a small load of traps,
but I helped fill bait bags and they answered all our weird questions with grace.

I have lots of pictures, which I'll be posting as soon as I can get them uploaded.
This afternoon we are taking the kids on a helicopter ride above the bay.
The little guys are OBSESSED with airplanes and jets and helicopters.
OB.
SESSED.
It should be a memorable experience for them.
Tomorrow we're doing small town parade and a family bbq at the ocean (at MY beach!) and then watching the Transformers movie and going to the awesome small town fireworks.
I love this place.

I am going to go shower (I smell like dead fish!) and take a little nap.

I would say I miss you guys, but in my mind you're all just out there, frozen in place until I get back anyway....

Vacationland, here I come!!

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Thu, 28 Jun 2007 01:54:00 +0000

That's what Maine's license plate declares it to be, and for me it is, so why not?

Ok, this is just a "clear the air of icky posts" post, so let's see what I have in the vault...

here's a writing exercise I did a little while ago...not sure where I was going with it, but maybe you'll have some ideas--

“You’re trying too hard.”
She always said things like that in a tone of voice that got under her sister’s skin so smoothly it was like a sliver.
She didn’t want other people to notice her, she just wanted to fit in.

There weren’t many days when she really liked how she looked and then if there were boys around it was even worse.

The School was only for girls, but there was an all-boys school nearby and there were boys always in and out of their buildings, a new approach to the segregation thing—allowing open access in order to keep them from being too mysterious to each other and consequently causing urgent meetings in the dark of night. It worked. Sort of. There were still forbidden liaisons, but the overall student body seemed much more focused on their studies than they could have been.

It was on one of those dark nights—are there often very bright nights?—and during one of those forbidden liaisons that Sydney realized something very important about herself. It startled her, as the thought formed itself into clear words in the front of her mind. She was in the middle of pushing Brent’s hands away from her zipper for the third time that night and wondering if he was as good of a kisser as his roommate looked like he would be when she sat back from him and blinked hard. She couldn’t speak for a moment because the thought was shouting at her from within and she had to pay very close attention to make sure she understood. She had never even given consideration to this before, having been raised on the notion that she would live the same life as her mother, and all the other women in their posh, Belmont neighborhood. She smiled as the realization sunk in, and then a quick giggle burst out of her as the giddiness of this new truth became her sole focus. Brent looked at her strangely and probably said something, but she didn’t hear him. She was already miles away in her mind, and was walking away with her body. She wouldn’t be living the life of her mother and all her Country Club friends. She would rock their worlds. She broke into a run, laughing into the night, her legs, long and lean, propelled her forward.

The next morning Sydney sat in the mahogany and marble dining room playing with her food as her roommate rambled on. Her elation from last night’s great epiphany had receded to a dull glow, but she was still as determined as ever to make the changes necessary to follow this new path. She stood up while Heddie was still talking and dumped her nibbled-at food down the chute.

******************

And here's another:

Night swimming. That summer was full of water, but most of our swimming was done at night. Days were for kayaking, and working. Nights were soft with humidity, holding the day’s heat like a sponge. I can almost feel the heaviness of the air, dense and warm, but with a ribbon of coolness. We didn’t know anyone with a sailboat that summer, but it didn’t matter. The ocean was more for looking at, anyway. It was like we knew we were going to be leaving again soon and the ocean was too big to become entirely known to us in just one summer, so we left it to play the role of the background, the setting. The lakes and streams were more tangible, more finite. We started with the one running down Mt. Battie and worked our way through the rest in an unplanned pattern—Mirror Lake, then Megunticook, the Keag River, then Chickawaukee. No rhyme, no reason. But somehow we covered them all. Our almost-matching Subarus ending the summer with almost-matching scratches from so much loading and unloading of our not-even-remotely-matching kayaks. We embarked on that summer as friends, and wended our way toward a deeper connection.

I'll be posting soon, from Maine.
Kisses--

She lives!!

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Tue, 26 Jun 2007 21:44:00 +0000

Ha.
Was there ever any doubt?
The procedure thingy went well, but last night was kind of a bitch.
I spent the ENTIRE night sitting on the toilet, peeing every 3-4 minutes.
Every time I stood up I was in pain, and lying in my bed made it hurt--and made me need to pee worse!
I tried eating something around 2 am, but that didn't exactly work out.
I puked it right back up, which was probaby a good thing, since it was ice cream.
Hey!
My throat was (and still is) killing me.
It felt so good going down, and not that bad coming up.
Heh.
So...how's your dinner...?
Sorry!!!
I have no filter, what can I say?

So finally around 4:30 I was able to lie in bed comfortably for long enough to doze off for 30 minutes or so at a time, waking to pee.
I am truly the Pee Queen...
which is way less sexy than the Princess and the Pea, but somehow I manage!

I am now feeling much more like myself and I think I owe Perc0cet dinner.
(even if it didn't put out until the 4th dose. What the fuck??)

Ok, I'm kind of a rambling, incoherant(er than usual) mess, so I think I'm going to go make lists of what to take on the grand Maine Adventure!!
Oh, and to answer Orange's question: no, I will not be going cold turkey on the blogging while I'm gone.
I never do, so why start now?
:)
I can't believe I just wrote a smiley face in a post...
oh well.
The point is, I'm sure I'll be popping in for updates now and then, and it's only ten days so you'll hardly even miss me!

Also, I love my husband dearly and I hope this trip brings us back together.
I want us both to be happy, preferably together.

I am glad I've aired my dirty laundry, but I wish I had waited until things were better resolved to do so.

Catch ya later, alligators!

I'm off to see the wizard--

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Mon, 25 Jun 2007 17:47:00 +0000

Or is that Wizzer...?
Like...a doctor of wizz, wizz being pee...
Ha.
I'm sooooo funny.

Today is the day for the procedures, is what I'm saying.
They'll be poking and prodding my insides for a couple of hours so who could really ask for more??
I'm sure it'll all go just swimmingly (another urology metaphor??) and I'll tell you all the gory details tomorrow.
Or at least recount the groovy hallucinations I have from the anesthesia.
Woo hooooo!
So far all I have is: I ate a raspberry by mistake while I was out in the garden...
oops.

All is well on the home front at the moment.

Leaving for Maine in 3 days.

Hugs and kisses to you all--

Here's a little song I wrote, you might want to sing it note for note--

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Sat, 23 Jun 2007 05:13:00 +0000

Only, less song, more story.
It's the one I submitted for the Iron Pen 24-hour writing competition.
If I win, I get to read it in front of an audience.
Suh-weet!
I doubt I'll win.
I wrote it in about 30 minutes and didn't even edit it before printing it and rushing to turn it in...
Hey, I'm a minimalist, what can I say?
hee...

Bee Charmer

I don’t know why I told them I was a bee charmer. I have always hated putting on airs and tend to wear them like a child in her father’s Sunday shoes. But the truth was, whenever a stinging creature got in the house, I could let it walk onto my outstretched hand and carry it outside. I never got stung by them. I liked to think it was because they could sense how much I wanted to fly, but it was probably because I used soft movements and didn’t bear pollen. But I did—I told them I was a bee charmer, and so that is how we ended up in the clearing on that thickly hot day.

We ran at first—through the woods behind my house, over moss carpeted rocks and under low-hanging pine branches. The ferns tickled our bare ankles and calves, and we were exhilarated for a few moments. But then the heat found us, slipping down through the shadows of the trees and winding around our chests, creeping up our necks. We slowed to a jog, then a walk, all of us panting. The clearing was still far off, much closer to Rt. 73, which paced the river on its race to the ocean than to Westbrook Street where my house was. We pressed forward, through trees and brush that kept stacking up in front of us, blocking the way.

We didn’t talk much as we walked, and the mantle of a Dare settled over us. It hadn’t been issued as a dare, but I knew that if I was able to reach into that beehive and retrieve a golden, dripping honeycomb, I would be respected and admired like no other. I would be the queen of this little hive of bees in my neighborhood.
When we burst out of the darkness of the forest, the sun was blinding and we tripped over each other as we found our pace again. We walked to the giant tree at the far end of that wide, smooth field. It was remarkably unhilly, for such a rolling, rambling place as this, and the flatness made the tree seem larger. The buzzing grew as we approached, reaching out for us. The hive hung heavily from a branch I could almost reach, and the air hung heavily from the bottoms of the summer-scorched sky.

When we stood in the shadow of the tree I turned to face them.

“I am a bee charmer.”

They just looked at me, unimpressed, anxious about the possibility of getting stung. The tree’s trunk was wider than my stretched-out arms, and the lowest branch was too high to help me climb. I felt a thrill of getting-out-of-it, but then one of the older boys offered me a leg up. His ragged red hair and his scrawny arms gave him the look of a lost scare crow, as he stumbled toward manhood. I shrugged and stepped up, onto his offered thigh.

They all held their breath as I pressed my fingers into the opening on the large grayish mass. The buzzing was muffled with my hand there and the silence was as heavy as the heat.

I was chanting to myself, “The bees love me, the bees love me,” and when I felt my fingers curl around a section of honeycomb, I pulled it loose, withdrew my arm and leapt off the boy’s leg in one fluid moment. I was running for the forest again before the other kids even blinked.

Most of them got at least one sting, but I got none. The honey was sweeter and stickier than any other honey I’d ever seen. I licked every drop of it from the crooked section of comb and placed the empty piece in my window to dry.
I was right. I am a bee charmer.

Good night, sweet ones!

Happy Father's Day, you fathers!

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Sun, 17 Jun 2007 02:47:00 +0000

I for one, plan to make breakfast in bed for the most important father in my life.
And then who knows.
Maybe he'll go golfing.
We got him a telescope and hopefully he won't read this...

Today we painted the hallway and stairs which lead from the basement to the main floor.
This was officially the first house painting I have ever done,
and I have to say it was pretty damn fun.
I am glad it was fun because we have a lot more painting to do before selling the house...

There are many changes on the horizon.
My roller coaster has been on speed lately and I think it's about time for things to level out.
I am ready to face the new world before me.

Because yesterday's post was enough to make MY nuts shrivel--

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Thu, 14 Jun 2007 22:34:00 +0000

(no, I don't have nuts...)
Here is a reposting of the pictures that make ME smile--

This angle makes my forehead look a bit long, but hey, that gives me an idea for the next time I take nude photos of a man...

The semi-retired, but as perky as ever GIRLS:

My only complaint is that I wish they were longer, but I do so love their shape--

Also.
There were hot teenage boys at the pool today.
Older teens--tattoos and earrings...
I found myself distracted by the youth dripping off them like chlorinated water from smooth pecs...
ahem.
...huh...?

So I started a story yesterday, but I'm realizing that I truly have capped myself at 350 words.
I noticed it when I started writing for the newspaper--
editor wanted 500 word articles, but they always seemed to be 350, the last 150 was forced.
I keep writing flash fiction of 350 words and my theory is that my posts are all around the 350 word mark, so my mind has just acclimated to that length.
So......
I need to force myself beyond that barrier repeatedly until it becomes more comfortable.

If I remember to follow through, I may just continue expanding this little starter piece. I have added to it twice now, and it's almost a thousand words...I think it has potential, if I could just slow down and show instead of tell...

“Am I just crazy here, cuz I feel like I’m losing my goddamned mind!” She spoke the words into the receiver of the phone, a shaking hand tapping ash into a non-existent ash tray.

“You’re not crazy, Luce.” He sighed on the other end of the line. “We’ll figure this out.”

Lucy took another drag from the eighth cigarette she had ever smoked, from the pack she had purchased two hours previous and stared at the wall of her home, at once familiar and alien.

He tried to break the tension by remarking again on how odd it was to hear her smoking, but his attempt at a joke fell flat, coming out more like an accusation. Either way, it got no response. Long moments passed, the international toll piling up on his end of the phone call as unheeded as the Surgeon General’s warning.

“Eric.”

Silence.

“Ok, so here’s what I think,” she had a spark of life in her voice for the first time in weeks, so on the other side of the line, on the other side of the world, Eric sat up and held the phone a little tighter, almost holding his breath.

“We need more information, right? I mean, we know this guy has been following me for a long time, but who is he? I know, I know. We’ve asked that question a thousand times, but what I mean is, let’s figure out a way to get him to tell us. We’re smart, right??” She laughed a little, her sleeplessness almost pushing her into hysterical laughter. “We can trick him.”

“I don’t know, Lucy. Let’s sleep on it. Well, you sleep on it. I’m going to go to work now, it is next Wednesday here, after all.” She could picture his smile as he made their same old joke about living on different continents.

“Yeah. Sleep. You think; I’ll sleep.”

When she finally laid the cordless phone back in its charging station she looked at the half-empty pack of cigarettes and the mess she had made there before double-checking all the locks on all the doors, and making sure the blinds were tightly closed.

This crazy stalker had made her a prisoner in her own home, and it was starting to wear on her.

“Hey, ‘John Doe’! Fuck YOU!” She shouted to her empty house. She felt his presence like a shadow, always there. As the echo faded, the skin on the back of her neck stood up. Realization struck her, and she said the name again, the name he used to sign his love notes, his hate notes, his suicide notes. One a day for 6 months.

“John.” She smiled at herself for being so slow to realize the connection. “You do know me, don’t you, freak?”

There were four of them. Four men named John that she knew that year. One she slept with, one she went on a couple of dates with, one she watched blossom from gawky Mormon teen into earnest, contact lens-wearing manager, and one that she welcomed a little too enthusiastically on his visit with her roommate, his sister. It could be any of them, really. And a fifth if you counted the guy who went by the name of “Lu”, but whose driver’s license said “Jon”. He had disappeared years ago, and she felt she knew his roommate better, the one who collected snakes.

So. John G. That cat was the likeliest candidate, making him by default the least likely. Too obvious. His clear, pale skin, his horrible teeth, and that giant case of chef’s knives he always brought to work. He was a chef, but it still felt out of place. He took her to a ballet, even though he knew she was dating the teenage cook from the night shift. He knew she deserved better even if she didn’t.

And then there was John A. That sweet, sweet, kid. It could be him, too. When he traded his coke-bottle glasses for contacts and got a real haircut, she did start to see him as a possible possibility, but no. Still too sweet. He had definitely been in love with her. She knew it, but he was too good, too sweet and fresh and innocent—and she needed to drink down her share of bad boys first. She almost wanted to tell him that, apologetically, “I just need to get these wild boys out of my system first, and then we can get married and be sweet together!” But…how does one really say such a thing? And so she didn’t. His uncles were polygamists, and his sister looked like Laura Ingalls Wilder. He was so earnest but still just a little off. He could have been further off than she noticed back then, and it could be him.

And then…oh, Jon L! That one. He would have charmed her if she hadn’t seen it coming. But whenever she sees it coming she sidesteps charm, because it’s only used as a weapon. His dark eyes, his "vintage" Camaro (read: falling apart, but sexy anyway) and his love of words. She could still see him crouched on the greasy floor by the grill, sobbing. She knew he was still drunk from the night before, she believed him when he said his tears were for the death of a relationship. She even believed him when he said he wasn't yet 21 and that he would let her drive his car for a case of beer. All she wanted was to touch his sculpted cheeks and feel his long hair on her skin. And that was all she got.

********

Feedback welcome.
Especially from You...

More Stuff You Wish You Didn't Know About Me:

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Wed, 13 Jun 2007 21:00:00 +0000

I am sitting in the doctor's office waiting for them to cram something up my PEEHOLE to look inside my bladder. You are jealous, I know.

Update (which you should skip if you hate it when your grandmother talks about her icky bodily functions):
I am now home.
And that was way less fun than it sounds.
They told me it's about the same as a speculum on the discomfort scale,
only they forgot to mention that if your urethra is inflamed then it hurts like hell.
Or like "fuck"--which is the word I said loud enough for the people in the waiting room to hear.
But, wait, I'm getting ahead of myself, cuz I didn't find out about the inflamation until later.
BAH.
And then they filled my bladder with water to see how big it is.
It's as small as I thought, as it turns out.
Nothin' like having someone shoving stuff up your urethra with a bladder so full you'd use the men's room at a truck stop just to find relief.
Feh.
So then they tell me that the CT scan the other day revealed that I have a couple of kidney stones, but those aren't what's causing all this unpleasurable activity cuz they're still just hangin' with their homies in my (left) kidney.
Sweet.
My bladder looks "fine".
My urethra, however, is inflamed and so they are going to stretch it.
What the fuck?
Also, they're going to stretch my bladder while they're all up in my bidness because that'll help them determine whether or not there's more of a problem there than there appears to be, but the best part is I might actually be able to hold more than an hour's worth of PEE at a time!
Wooot!
I am the queen of the potty, and not just my mouth, baby!
So in a week or so I'll go in to the hospital for a lil outpatient lovin' and get my urethra and bladder stretched out as well as have some soundwave thingy to break up the Stone.
I'm gonna get De-Stoned, baby!
Unstoned?
Whatev.
It'll be super fun.
And if you think I'm weird for being all excited that there's something wrong with me,
then apparently you've never been in the position of knowing something's wrong but not being able to figure it out for a while.
Knowing is so much better than wondering!

(for cleavage and legs, scroll down a bit--it'll help clear your mind...)

Today I am feeling reckless

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Wed, 13 Jun 2007 02:28:00 +0000

Perhaps it is because today is a day with a black mark on it,
a day I've been fearing since January 12th.
Or maybe it's the result of an afternoon too full of sun and too empty of beer.
I got so bored at the pool that I took pictures...

Hello, friend!

Hell-oooooo, friend(s)! *wink*

(I took about 10 of these...and then wanted to text them to random people and see if they could guess what the picture was of--the original picture is a sideways view, so it is harder to tell what you're looking at...)

Leggo my eggo, bitch!

And now I'm home and I'm sunkissed and content.
But I also just feel like pissing into the wind, or running with scissors--
riding bareback.
Eh.

It is so easy to make resolutions when there is no one to hear them spoken.
I make decisions all the time and don't follow through, but this is it.
I'm doing it.
I'm feeling so reckless I'm thiiiiiiis close to spouting off the exact details of the shitstorm I'm navigating right now.
but I won't.
It's probably fairly obvious from my wacko posts that I've been having some marital issues, but I'll leave it at that for now.

Let's hope that the twelfth of every 5th month ISN'T the end of my world, m'kay?

***********

And on a happier note--
The most darling man (topping my list of sexiest older men for a while now) has taken my challenge to see which of us can get back in shape first!
If any of you want to join us, just speak up.
That man is goin' DOWN!!!
(not like that, Jerry. PERVERT!)
Heh.
Ok, like that...but just ONCE--we have weight to lose here, mister!
You know, that gives me an idea.
Why don't they have Sex For Weight Loss clinics?
They could be fully stocked with porn stars and condoms and you just have to weigh in every day;
as long as you're losing weight you stay.
The deal would be that the porn stars would be required to make you do all the work.
Bingo--weight loss!
Hmm...I think I'll apply for a small business loan...
heh.
Well, my new house is significantly closer to the Nevada border, ya know.
I bet they allow shit like that.
In any case--
the great Get-Back-In-Shape-A-Thon is on!!!!

It's Monday, where I come from

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Mon, 11 Jun 2007 21:54:00 +0000

I heard this song today as I was driving in my car.
I liked it.
So when I got home I googled its ass and tracked it down.
It helped me to see what a crazy ole drama queen I've been lately, though.
I only know of one way to remedy that, but I don't know if I will.
It's like...when there's something that you want and you're told you can't have it--
absolutely not
nuh-uh
no way
no how
NEVER--
then your feet start shifting your weight back and forth,
like they don't know whether to stay or to go.
(They know that if they stay there will be trouble...
but if they go it will be double.)
It also makes your eyes twitch.
And increases attacks of indigestion,
insomnia,
and
general
all-around
irritability.
You want to roar at the man who hands you the clipboard
or shove the woman who takes your order.
For no reason.
Or at least...
No reason that connects the act to the stranger.
Siiiiiiiiiiiiigh.
So, the solution is simple:
have that thing you're forbidden, and you'll stop thinking it is the air you must breathe,
the water which, when drunk, becomes part of every cell in your body,
and...when drunk, that thing is your apricot hefewiezen...
That thing, which becomes perfect in your mind because your mind is its only residence now.
That thing which was perfect before, but we'll pretend there were faults because usually there are.
That thing...
in its beauty and dearness.........
that thing does reach unusual and unnatural proportions--
gaining volume and power until it consumes you.
So.
It's best to just have it.
...who me?
rationalize?
Nah.
*wink*
But you know, life is for being happy, right?
And life is for LIVING--
Life is for loving and I don't just mean sex--
I mean offering help to those who need it and
offering an ear to those who need it,
and offering sex to--
oops.
Sorta came full-circle there, didn't I?
heh.
Well.
Thanks for being the table on which I can dump out the giant purse which is my mind and attempt to organize it.

I bought fresh raspberries today and I am nearly quivering over the decision of
just
what
to do with them!!
Becky says pie, but then she CAN say pie cuz she's a stick figure.
That chick on the Discovery Health show, Healthy Decadance says a chocolate raspberry smoothie...half the fat, all the flavor.
Eh.
I've never been a smoothie kinda gal.
I prefer chewing.
So.
I'll keep you posted.

Buh.
Bye.

Good times, bad times, you know I've had my share...

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Sun, 10 Jun 2007 15:13:00 +0000

Led Zepellin was not one of the performers last night, but that line just seems fitting.

I went to the True Colors concert, at our beautiful amphitheatre.
For the first time in my life
(read that again, with feeling)
I was glad to have an actual seat at a concert.
I wasn't really in the mood to jam out
(either with or without my clam out...heh...)
and it was nice to just sit back and soak up the sunshine,
my cold, $8.50 draft beer in a convenient cupholder on the seat,
and enjoy the not-too-hot-thank-god sunshine and groovy music.
The best performance of the night goes to the Dresden Dolls,

a new-to-me band, although it should probably go to Cyndi Lauper herself, because she was truly adorable in every way and put on a great show.
Margaret Cho was simply lickable as the MC--
making good use of the plentiful Mormon-themed material available to her, with immitations and stories as well as lots of great political crap.

Here's the comment I left here from my phone last night:
Deborah Harry just left the stage
and right now the stereo is playing Amy Winehouse's cover of The Zutons' "Valerie"!!
It's almost as if You were here...
like my wish.
But you weren't there, it was just me.
My husband and I sat in silence for most of the show,
but finally the beer kicked in and he started talking.
We shared some good laughs then, in the cool night air.
But there was darkness around us long before the sun slipped behind the mountains.
I hope we can heal.

I've been having a great time with my kids this weekend,
and am truly looking forward to the coming weeks where we have nowhere to be in the mornings and we can go to the pool and for walks and stuff.

All of this angsty crap I write lately is my therapy, so please don't think this is all there is to my current life.
I still make people laugh, just not here.
I am still a good listener, just not here.
I am still having fun with my kids and having world-famous sex with my husband.
I still work out and cook and read and clean my house and sing along to music.
I just have a heavy load to lug around in an awkwardly shaped bag at the moment.
I want nothing more than to make everyone else (and myself) happy, but I don't know how.
I am as immobilized as every story in James Joyce's The Dubliners.
I'm the girl who wouldn't get on the boat, even though it was her only way out of a nowhere life.
I'm the boy who wouldn't buy anything at the bazaar after finally making it there, even though it would have brought him closer to the girl he wanted so desperately.
The rock and the hard place are my left hand and my right.

I keep thinking that once I make this decision I will be able to return to myself,
but how do I know?
How do I know which decision to make?
Rock.
Hard place.
Both decisions are completely right.
And completely wrong.
They both have devastating consequences while offering peace and joy.

I think I'll go shower, then feed the kids (again) and wander over to the pool.
We may even venture out the movies this afternoon if we think the little guys can sit still for the entire 7 and a half hours of Pirates 3...

I have the best intentions, I really do...

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Sat, 09 Jun 2007 03:05:00 +0000

but I guess it's just not in the stars for me to lay off the deeee
pressing
melod
ramatic
crap.
Why?
Because sometimes loving people hurts so intricately that tracing the paths of that pain as it zings through one's body would take an ant a lifetime.
Why is it hard to see someone you love loving other people?
Usually it's good, usually it's nice.....
but sometimes, the ache is overwhelming and I feel myself falling into an abyss of thick, black greed.
For just a moment my chest tightens and I want all
that
love for myself.
But then I remember...
I send love out into this world in a vast array of styles, flavors, textures--
and it gives me joy to find other people who do the same.
I just sometimes wish that I was the only sun in the sky...
and then I remember that I am, but the stars are welcome and adored, too.
yeah.
I'm such a psycho, you guys.
Christ.
All
mighty.

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Thu, 07 Jun 2007 17:54:00 +0000

Why must I live my life tormented by my desires?
I crave everything
anything
something.
I yearn for the dusty streets of the Depression Era Midwest.
I ache for the sight of a tornado hurtling itself across the expansive flatness of landscape that I can only imagine.
I grow breathless at the urgency with which I want to be in a kayak on the ocean right now, or to know what it feels like to use a paint brush and a pallette to create an image of beauty.
I want to be everything, everyone.
I want to know which way, which way the wind blows...
I want there to be flashing lights illuminating my Path.
I want to stop wanting so damn much!!!
I want to figure out why I can't be satisfied with this beautiful life I have.
Is it me?
Will I never be satisfied?
Or is it that there truly is something missing?
And is it what I think it is?
Or something else entirely?
And, wouldn'tcha know it, my psychic is on vacation.
:D
Nah, she doesn't know either.

What I do know is that I had a great workout
and I will now eat a healthy, yummy lunch
followed by a shower
and then I will pop into Old Navy for the shirt I've been wanting since the last time I was there.

Mother Nature is having mood swings...

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Wed, 06 Jun 2007 17:05:00 +0000

It was in the 90s Sunday and Monday, but Tuesday looked bleak.
I woke last night to the sound of thunder (how far off, I sat and wondered)...
uh.
No, let's try that again.
I was not humming a song from 1962, and while I'll agree that it is funny how the night moves, I will not allow this post to be hijacked by a song that was not covered by Metallica.
Ahem.
So...
where was I?
Yeah...last night I went to bed late, but restless.
(which is different than being young and restless or having restless leg syndrome or ramsey-hunt syndrome or having a niece named Ramsey or...ahem.)
Well, fuck.
This is going nowhere at a rather fast clip, innit?
Ok, last night I went to bed late, but I was wide awake.
I thought about people I've loved and lost along the way (yes, that's probably another song lyric, but if we hold hands and run like mad, maybe we'll make it through this without any further interuptions...not counting this one...)
fuck.
As I tossed and turned, the lightening flashed through the top, decorative/unshuttered window and forced my eyes open.
There was deep, rumbly-wonderful thunder and I hoped for more lightening, but dozed off again before it arrived.
Today it's chilly and dark and wet.
Crazy weather patterns.
They're a little bit psychedelic...
I dreamed last night from A to Z...nah, more like A and Z.
But that doesn't really mean anything to anyone but me.
I dreamed of the apocolypse, slowly approaching, by way of the sea.

I am oddly calm but feeling unmoored.
Untethered, upside down.
I am drowning in indecision.
But my house is sparkling clean and I have been banished from my mother in law's (by my husband, who wants to see if she is willing to do what it takes to make her own crazy dreams come true instead of forcing other people to do illogical things to help her out...).
I need to hike to the Diamond Fork hot springs, that's what.
I talked about it a little while ago and we didn't do it.
I need it.

I'm sorry for the crappy posts lately.

Happy June, fellas!!

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Sun, 03 Jun 2007 04:05:00 +0000

My Lucky Star wind chime!

I gained a guitar from the great lawn sale adventure.
My very own acoustic...
But...
for your guitar, I gently weep.

There's a line from my new favorite artist, Amy Winehouse, that keeps running over my tongue like cold milk--
You walk away, the sun goes down.
It just feels so final.
But I don't believe in finality so it shivers me timbers a bit.

I heard a song today that I thought was Bob Dylan, so that counts, right?
Turns out it was Dire Straits, but whatev.
It's a song I knew well as covered by the Indigo Girls, so beautiful in its raw passion from a woman to a woman.
Romeo & Juliet.
I can't listen to it without feeling it, you know?
That song...it is the embodiment of just a breath of a moan lingering on the edge of a husky voice, tense with the agony of unrequited love.
That whole, "I love you like the stars above, I'm gonna love you til I die" line!!
GOD damn, baby!
That shit, oh, fuck, that shit sends me off into the milk-smeared sky.

I still believe in the kind of world where the things we never believed possible can become so.
This world is getting uglier every minute that belief wavers--
the belief that the one thing I've always needed but never knew existed can still be mine.
I die a little every second I have to entertain the possibility that it was all just a figment of my imagination.

I am in a labyrinth and I will find my way out.
Me, David Bowie and that hot brunette.
--'ello.
--Did you just say, "hello"?
--No, I said, "'ello", but close enough.
I have always wanted to be dropped into a giant, hedge maze (hold the Jack Nicholson, than you very much!) and now here I am.
It's darker than I thought it would be, but the hedges are comfortingly evergreen-scented.

Yes, I'm pretty sure I've crossed into Crazy Artist Type territory, but I'm totally ok with that.
Hell, living in my head sounds kind of fun.
I always identified with that Ally McBeal storyline to an uncomfortable degree.

Tomorrow, boating with friends.
A beautiful lake, good company, what else do we need???
Monday, the kids start a week of day camp.
I know, I know, I'm evil for signing them up for the first week of summer vacation, but I thought I would be spending lots of time with wacko mother-in-law.
Turns out I probably won't, but oh well.
After this week's marathon of moving useless shit, I could use the break.
My own house could stand a bit of a scrub down, frankly!

Mouse Poo, Footprints, and You

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Wed, 30 May 2007 22:18:00 +0000

I saw your footprints today
and breathed again.
I heard a song that reminded me of you
and then
another, and another.
The radio was taunting me--
or was it laughing while reaching for my hand to draw me into the quiet of its embrace?
Either way.
That one verse...
it was a zinger, alright.
The song made me smile and I spaced out, lost in thoughts or lack thereof.
Just driving.
And then that verse leapt into my chest and pushed out a sob.
Damn.
That was cool.
Your finger prints are all over the glass of my life today.
And I like it.

I still smell like my MIL's dusty garage full of decades of unsorted memories, incomplete projects, and ungiven gifts.
I am pretty sure there is mouse poop in my hair or in my nose.

Hello, hanta virus, pleased to meet you.
I counted spiders for a while, but then I got distracted by the sunshine.
It was a good day, a productive day.
The best find of the day was an entire box FULL of reams of unused plastic newspaper bags.
...because she knows a guy with a list of 100 uses for plastic bags.
Oh, goody.
I loaded the bed of a truck with 30 or 40 apple and orange boxes.
California oranges, Washington Apples.
But one of the boxes of apples stuck up, above the others, its country of origin smiling back at me like a tall, bald man.
Hello, Enza apples, pleased to meet you.
(Can't think "enza" without thinking "enzyte"...hee...)

Yes, a good day.

We need to go visit The House again.
We're both feeling a little hesitant about the distance it is from everyone else in our lives.
Maybe we could get them all to move out there.
Heh.
Ok, maybe I could get my helicopter license (and pick up a chopper with my spare change) and ferry everybody out there...?
DAMMIT.
I'm just not growing MORE realistic with my suggestions, am I?
Well.
Maybe they could all just suck it.
Anyway we need to go remind ourselves why we want to live there.
No, make that NEED to live there.
I could drop out of school and focus on being a
world
famous
author!!!
Yes!!!
It'll happen if I keep wishing for it, right?
I don't like, have to Work for it or anything, do I?
Rock on.
(the new house is only 15 minutes further from school so I don't reeeeallly have to drop out, but it's fun to pretend!)

In other news, we are now at T-minus 4 weeks from our trip to Maine!!!
Got down sat on a bench, I'm excited about that!!!!
Home.
Ocean breezes, seafood of all sizes, shapes and flavors, and family........
yaaaaaaaaaay!!

Also, this is the fortune I got on Sunday after my hike through the gorgeous Uinta mountains with Jasmine (did I even write about that? Glorious, it was!)

It says, "Trust your intuition. The universe is guiding your life."
I'll drink to that!

When the wind blows

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Wed, 30 May 2007 03:50:00 +0000

I still tend to rock.
...because I am a rocker at heart.
With a soul that can roll.

So...
hot on the heels of losing a best friend
(who was somehow able to make me feel like it's ok)
I am now losing another.
I celebrate her success, I squeal with delight over the job offer.
I feel true joy for her future.
But.
Then in the quiet of my empty house I realize...
she'll be on the other side of the country now.
And we've never been phone-chatters, but I know we'll figure it out.
I just have to sigh at this turn of events.
Because now what?
I have other friends.
But.
Some of them cause tension in my house, so I can't fully dive into the warm embrace of their love, and some of them are not yet a deeper part of my life--
the casual friends, the good acquaintences.
I know I can count on them to pick up the slack, and I know that there are other dear souls out there for me to love.
But for now, I just want to cry.
I don't do well without a solid Best Friend around.
It's not that I'm weak...
I just don't know how not to have one.
Kindergarten was a blur,
but when I met Julie in my first grade class, as we sat by the coat racks playing with those awesome plastic/rubber horses!
Oh, it was like finding a sister.
Oddly enough, I already had a sister named Julie.
She was prim and proper (still is) and did not share my daydream-believing, queen of homecoming to-be ways!
My surrogate sister did, though.
I've talked about her a lot, and she's not the one leaving, but you know me and TANGENTS!!
The point is, from that day on, as a not-yet-6-and-a-half-year-old, shy as hell girl, I have had at least one super close friend and it's just not getting any easier when our life paths move us apart.
Each of them is still dear to me, and I wouldn't consider them "lost".
Jasmine is about to move to the east coast, to take her dream job and I am so completely thrilled for her.
I'll be ok.
I just have pms today and I'm feeling rather friendless at the moment.
POOR, POOR, ME!!
Wah.
Sniff.
Guess what I should really be saying right now?
Thank you, dear universe, for sending me such amazing friends and allowing me to love and be loved by them for whatever length of time we have.
Yes.
I believe that.
I will just miss our hikes and our walks and our bottles of Reisling.
I hate Utah.
(just haven't said that for a while; it doesn't really apply)

I should really try not to post when the hormones are raging.
Heh.

Well.
The next two days are devoted to moving poo at my MIL's house, so pray for me.
Or drink for me...
That woman has more stuff in the smallest room of her house than I have in my ENTIRE house.
I swear to thumb-suckin' baby Jesus!
At least our friends are coming over to watch the next Jazz game tomorrow night instead of just a bunch of guys I don't really know and am not allowed to flirt with.
heh.

Peace out.
Or in...?
eh, whichever.

Another lovely day at the pool--

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Sat, 26 May 2007 21:29:00 +0000

With my book.
And my patchily applied sunblock.
I am a sun goddess
(in patches, at least)
and I am happy.
Will I let my hair return to its natural color of blondish reddish brownish?
The sun does such marvelous things to it.
The black is grooooo
veee.
But.
I crave Me.
I feel like I am holding my breath lately,
waiting for something.
Don't know what.
I am forgetting, with suboncious motivation, to put on the mascara which is my only makeup.
I am letting my hair grow past its attractive length; needs a trim.
I am letting my Hair grow...there...because it is a sexy thing to be bald,
and I feel un-
non-
anti-
sexy.
I wish to revel in my commonness,
to bathe in the ordinary.
Because secretly I know that I feel most beautiful when I pay the least attention.
Don't misunderstand--
I currently spend 2.3 minutes a day on my appearance.
I just want less.
I want to melt into the background and give up my hope of being anything other than what I am.
I want to stop expecting the impossible from those around me in this busy world.

I refuse to keep lying here,
draped in the shroud of ecstasy.
I would rather be nestled in the moist, dark earth with you.
I will slip down between the knife-like blades of emerald green
and float like a wish through the dense, dark earth to you.
Not giving up my Life,
but not needing It at the moment either.
Safety is here, in the dark earth,
with what is left of you
in this velvet-lined box.
I am not afraid of you in the dark, quiet earth.
You cannot hurt me, nor would you if you could.
You are my Savior,
my silent champion,
my guardian angel.
If I could be water,
I would be sprinkled over the earth
on that verdant and shady ledge.
I would seep into you
and re-animate your limbs
to convey your sharp mind back into this realm.

........I am getting creepy.
I think I'll go make food for tonight's Jazz playoff game.
Reading a book called Jazz, watching a team called Jazz, going for a hike with best friend Jazz.
Life is...jazzy, you might say.
And I am infatuated with Amy Winehouse.
Google her.
Download her.
Oogle her.
But most of all, let her possess your hips and your feet and your neck as they sway and shuffle and arch.....
She is Sex.
Perhaps I'll let her be my surrogate for a bit, since I am apathetic toward my own sexiness at the moment.
Heh.
Happy Saturday, dears.

Unwilling to Wallow

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Fri, 25 May 2007 22:16:00 +0000

That's me!
Yay!
Down with wallowing!
I do, however, have a mean case of PMS.
I wondered why I was loathing the very existence of my pool and my kids and/or their desire to spend this entire day there.
I wondered why I was hungry again when I just finished lunch.
I wondered why I wanted to growl at my kids in response to every word they spoke.
And then I remembered.
My body and the moon both do this stupid thing where they move through phases and this particular phase is the grouch-before-the-storm phase.
It's funny, though, because I'm in a cheerful to average mood.
My thoughts are clear and fresh.
But there has been that inexplicable little edge all day.
I'm just glad I figured it out, because it was about to piss me off.

Last night I had a dream that my husband and I were riding on a bus and the bus was hijacked.
The assailants were of middle eastern origin, and kinda hot.
We had been watching X-Men 3 last night (oh dear GOD I love the X-Mens!) and one of the women was an actress who had played a middle eastern terrorist's mother on the last season of 24 that I watched...maybe the one before last?
Anyway.
That's what planted the seed.
So in the dream, one of the bad guys shot my husband--didn't kill him, just shot him.
It was pretty scary, just wondering what they would do to us, etc.
And then I started considering seducing one of them in order to get out of there alive.
Ha!!
That is SOOO me.

So the pool has officially opened again for the season, and it feels great!
They switched from normal style keys to little keycard thingies so I had to show ID and tell them which house I live in, etc, which is fine by me (except that I had to reload the already-wet kids into the car to go back for my license. grrr).

Hope you all have fabulous, long weekends!

Thursday...and you know what Thursdays are for!!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Bored) — Thu, 24 May 2007 15:02:00 +0000

Thursdays are for thucking.
...what?
I developed a lisp.

And I'm still having severe typing issues.
I really think I might have a brain tumor.
But that's ok; it's kind of fun.

It is a beautiful, sunshine day outside,
and the clouds in my personal world have lifted, too!
(momentarily)
What? You think I am going to fall for the sunshine act?
Puh-leeez.
As if I would be stupid enough to think the rain clouds, the thunder, and the watermellon-sized balls of hail will ever be permanently banished from my little weather system.
But I have an umbrella.
I also had a really hot lesbian sex dream last night.
Sorry for the attention deficit disorder; just remembered!
Mmmmm....
it was super hot.

I finished watching "Stranger than Fiction" last night.
I am madly in love with that movie.
Everything about it spoke to the part of me that resides in the golgi apparatus of my cells.
(I loved biology, bite me)
The girl, the oddly slim Will Ferrell being not-funny but still making me laugh, and gorgeous Emma Thompson, as a tense-with-writer's-block, chain smoking, brilliant author!
Oh, and don't let's forget how Dustin Hoffman nailed his role as the professor who was just nutty enough to help Ferrell solve his bizzaro problem!
...and...BUSTER!!!
Don't know the actor's name, but if you watch Arrested Development, you know who I mean.
That guy rocks.
Watching it made my skin crawl with unwritten words,
my fingers fairly dance with unspilled thoughts.
Someday I will write a book.

I just listened to the BEST song.
I'm not kidding.
It's the most beautiful song ever written.
The words are haunting, but in a good way.
Like Casper.
You know how some songs just speak to you?
Yeah.
And no, I don't think I'll tell you what song it is because then you'll all know that the Black Eyed Peas, "My Humps" moves me like a power ballad from an 80s hair band.
Aw, shoooot, I just spilled the beans...
but, my humps ARE pretty
fuckin'
awesome, wouldn't you say?
Heeee.
(did my distraction technique work? You forgot all about wondering what the song was, didn't you? Ooooops. Now I've gone and called attention to it again! Well. It makes my knees weak like Bo Bice--when he performed on American Idol, NOT when he released his first album...shudder...)
It's the kind of song that makes you wish fan clubs weren't so geeky,
or stalking of musicians wasn't so "already been done."
Becuase then you could just walk up to whoever was responsible for the music/lyrics/whichever part moved you most and hug that person and maybe even press your lips softly to his or her neck where it meets the collar bone and say, "Thank you for reading the pattern of my soul and passing it through the filter of your guitar strings; my soul looks awful sparkly with your voice wrapped around it."
But alas, that Fergie probably has a body guard or something.
(what???? My humps are VERY spiritual to me!!)
(uh...humps are tits, right? Cuz if not, just scratch this entire segment...)

Speaking of American Idol,
I have broken the addiction.
I did not watch a single episode this past season.
Not one.
I, in fact, only watch the following shows:
Desperate Housewives (hey! fuck YOU. I know it's a soap opera, but I don't care.)
House (Hugh Laurie inspires emotions and physical responses in me that I can't even describe...)
The Office (sometimes I laugh so hard it hurts; other times I squirm or ache or sigh)
Scrubs (laugh. til. I. cry.)

And that is it.
I record My Name is Earl, too, and I like it a lot but just haven't had time to watch it for a while.
So I spend about 3 hours a week watching TV--minus all the commercials, cuz that's what TiVo's for!
Not too shabby.
So what in the bloodiest of hells am I doing with all my time???
Cuz I'm sure not being productive.
Shopping.
Reading.
I guess that covers it.
Oh, and working out.
I AM PATHETIC.
Seriously.
I need a job.
Or a hob
by.
Nah.
The pool opens tomorrow.
All I need is a bikini wax (ok, Nair, but wax sounded cooler...)
and a hat with a wide rim so I can read my books without going blind from the glare.
Fuck writing.
Fuck cleaning.
Fuck fucking!
I'm doing nothing this summer but swim and read,
and anyone who has anything to say about it can talk to my manager!
(...uh...anyone want to fill an unpaid intern position as my manager...?)

Ok.
I'm off to hit the gym, do some quick shopping, and go to school for yet another unbirthday!
You'd think that with twins they could manage to celebrate their summer birthday on the same randomly selected day, wouldn't you?
I know I would think that, but we'd be wrong.
Oh well.
It's fun to see them in their little world...so cute and all-grown-up, mixed with oh-so-small!

Have a fabulous day.