all the things i wanted

What the hell does it say about me that a few kind words from a complete stranger can have me sobbing like a three year old? Is my life really that pathetic? Or am I just feeling sorry for myself?

I really don’t think I feel sorry for myself on a regular basis, certainly no more than anyone else.

In all I am a lucky person and for all intents and purposed my dreams have all been realized.

Granted, I may have dreamed “little” by other peoples’ standards, but they were my dreams and when laid side by side next to what might have come of my life, the kind of person I could’ve turned out to be – and in my own eyes – I have been blessed.

I remember one night about twenty-seven years ago. BigD and I had been living together about four months and there was a possibility that I might be pregnant. At that point in my life I had thought – I had WISHED AND PRAYED – a thousand times that I was pregnant. Not with BigD’s baby, but with my previous husband’s baby.

Until that night, sitting alone in a little bitty rented house, with this man that I had fallen so completely in love sleeping in the other room, this man that made me realize that all the “men” that had come before were just so many practice runs, I was doing more than praying, I was begging and making deals with God.

I can’t remember all of the trades that I offered, but I do remember telling God that if he let me be pregnant THIS time, I would give one of my legs. There were other equally ridiculous offers and three weeks later, when I found out that I really WAS pregnant, those promises and deals faded from my memory as those types of covenants often do.

The years rolled on and I was blessed with not only a son, but marriage to the most wonderful man in the world and a daughter. I was granted so many wishes and given so many gifts – good friends, healthy happy children, jobs that I loved and most of all the continuing love of a good, good man.

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knuckle down

After twenty-one years, you’d think I’d be getting over it.

I’m not. What’s more, I doubt that I ever will.

The holiday season (Christmas time, for all of you thoughtless, Christian-centric folks) season is upon us with all that entails and I LOVE that part of it. I love the decorating (well kinda). I love the cards in the mail. I love Bob Rivers – “Oh geez look at this“. And you KNOW I love the food.

Underneath it all though is that sadness. I have it over the course of the year at different times, but Christmas is the worst. Because Mama loved Christmas and because she died just five days before.

So the holidays are bittersweet for me.

This year, of course, my boy is over there in Minnesota and I don’t know if he’s coming home. Shit, I don’t even know if he’s alive – I NEVER hear from him unless I text him. Which reminds me …

Okay, he’s alive. Apparently he purchased “Boogie Nights” and thought fondly of his mother. 🙄

I am persona non gratis with my baby sister. We had quite the blow-up in June and we haven’t spoken since. The middle sister and I have always had that type of relationship, but LittleSis and I never have. It makes me sad.

I could be the bigger person and hold out the olive branch, but I’m afraid if I HAD an olive branch I’d commence to beating that “man” she’s married to about the face and shoulders with it and that would be the wrong thing to do.


Time Waits for No One

Also, “The Holidays” directly precedes The New Year (we are still calling it that, right?) which means I gotta start thinking of all the things that are wrong with me and ways to fix it.

I’ll be busy til oh, right around May 1. Just in time for my 51st (!) birthday when I can start whining about being old.


And So It Goes …

Seems like the only time I’ve written here lately is to describe funerals.

Ugh …

Truth is, I have a blog entry in my damn head nearly every day for the past year, but I am just too busy to get my ass over here and write one. Facebook is a poor substitute for blogging, though I HAVE become somewhat addicted.

To my long time readers, remember the big ass dust-up I had with my boss back in 2005? She was the friend who died two weeks ago. You can maybe understand why this wrecked me so much – we hadn’t spoken but one time since then and all of my good intentions of mending our friendship will never come to pass now.

I like to hope that she knows that I still loved her and missed her. I like to hope that she realized that it was the same bullheadedness that she possessed that kept me from calling her.

guitar On Thursday I get this added to my back:

I have such good dear friends, both in real life and cyberspace. I can’t even begin to tell you all how much you mean to me, but I’m gonna try and remember to do it often.

In the meantime, I gotta put on my big girl panties and get on with it.

I am feeling better lately, only a cold and of course my good old friend Fibromyalgia. She’s been acting the bitch the last couple of weeks, as she always does when I am “stressy”.

Have an appointment with my gastroenterologist’s assistant, I want to work up some kind of alternative treatment for this “non-existent” shit that’s going on before I subject myself to any more $$$$ tests that reveal NOTHING.

TheBoy has been out of the house for a couple of weeks and dare I say it – I miss him. I keep thinking I hear his television in the basement.

Of course that could also just be early onset Alzheimer’s, you never know.

I am off!