Haha - Let's blog fuckers

Haven't used this in forever, however...

I have an ad sense account that has $32 in it.  Payout minimum is $100.  So... let's see if and how long I can get this blog up to pay out.

So click my ads.  View them.  Pay me.

Because I'll do anything for a dolla.  Just kidding.  I have a few morals.  I know about ethics.  I am human.

But bitches, please.

Twofold

Twofold.  Reading one thing about your zodiacs sign, and later, upon meeting the mother of your daughter's friend, realizing it is probably much more true then initially precieved.  The examination of my zodiac sign (which I love because I feel that it fits entirely), cane about after a discussion with DD, DD's teacher and myself.  Tried to figure out daughter's zodiac sign based on those we knew and couldn't come up with libra.  Looked up libra at home and, in consequence, looked up mine as well.  One element that spoke to me was a line about scorpions are "old souls" from birth.  I always felt comfortable socializing up in the generational sense, but upon meeting this woman tonight, never more so.  The woman, the mother of my daughters classmate and friend, is older than my own mother, but tonight a quick 15 minute stop turned into 3 hours and a bottle of wine.  In reflecting, it is my perception that as a young mother I can happily enjoy the company of the older aged cooperates in this mothering journey.  We laughed, we made faces at the "youth" of today and their horrid sexual conduct, talked ill of problematic teachers and got along great.  We will enjoy this time together and parted company hoping to continue to do so.  And this just reinforced the feeling that despite my youth, I often reflect the soul of a much older soul.

Beer

It's that time of day.

Beer time.

The time that I am exhausted from running around getting stuff done (why does it seem like I spend so much time doing stuff, but when I sit down, it looks like there was more TIME spent then WORK done?).

So yeah, I'll be that mom in my almost mumu (it was brought back from some other country by my neighbor.  and it's damn comfortable.) drinking my beer a hair shy of proper cocktail hour.

I almost have this delousion that I'd rather be that sterotyped image of the 50's housewife who does her look daily as a routine as well as have a clean house, cooked dinner and the husband who walks in the door to the joy of this home life the wife created.

And then, I say fuck that.  I like being able to hold myself accountable and not feel that serving the (super awesome) husband is not my top priority.

So again, BEER TIME!

Crack Cocaine

Having one of those lulls where I wonder what cocaine actually feels like and if it is worth it.  Most drugs scare the shit out of me for several reasons.  1. I've seen their effect on my mother and her much worse off friends.  2.  I don't trust anyone who sells drugs and in turn, wouldn't trust the drugs they sell.  3.  I don't trust myself on drugs, and worry about finding myself dependent on drugs.  4.  I kinda like who I am and don't want to mess that up.

So yeah, I get why there are moms on Ritalin.  Just wish I had the access, balls, and fortune telling abilities to do it myself.

What I should be doing is cooking.  I love cooking because it is one of those things you can totally bullshit.  You can play it safe and add salt, overcook the meat, open a can.  Or you can get inventive and hell, people still have to eat so if it doesn't taste good, it will probably still be palatable enough to be consumed.  But once you've learned a few tricks, it's like science.  What is and isn't water soluble translates to what does and doesn't work with sage for example.  No sage in my mexi or chinese food, but plenty with my potatoes and eggs.  Deglazing the pan with some wine and making a yummy balsamic reduction- easy enough but not something  done with mac & cheese.  For tonight I'm dreaming of focaccia bread, caprese salad, orzo, green salads... all kinds of goodness!

So yes, I'm excited and salivating over all the food I can make for my friend and her daughter tonight, but I'm sluggish and feeling guilty about not cleaning first.  Too gosh darn many things to do and not enough drugs to assist.

Bon appetit!

work. oh the drudgery

Work, work, work.
You know, that torture that we all suffer through in order to have some playtime.

Right now I'm in that awkward adjustment time in which I'm not sure if I've made the right choice to change jobs/industries, I'm still learning and therefore highly dependent on the help and assistance of others, making new friends and figuring it all out.

Growing up, my parents weren't exactly exemplary role models for....  well pretty much everything.  OK, maybe excellent role models for alcoholism, emotional absence, co-dependence and barely just surviving.  However in the work realm, there are very few examples of what "normal" employees were.

My dad worked at the state lottery for a great many years, which was cool, however most of those years were post divorce when I never even saw the guy, let alone know if he was even collecting a paycheck (and btw, the last child support payment from garnished wages arrived in my 20's, so... ).

My mom was a stay at home mom for a great many years and was always teaching us something when we were young.  After the divorce (thank god for that good sense) when I was in 3rd grade, Mom did something super cool.  She went and got a J-O-B.  Not only did my mom get a job, but she got a job in a field typically exclusive to the male, white or Hispanic folks- landscaping.  She worked for a major medical center on the landscaping team.  Landscaping was nothing glorious- just keeping the grass green & mowed pretty much.  But my mom did take pride in her job and that was encouraging.  Then....

Then my mom, who had come out of the closet and announced her card carrying membership to the not-exactly-straight-ahem-lesbian crowd, found a relationship (not her first, but her first serious).  This girlfriend, which would have been step-mom (or other mom) if this state could have figured out then what it still can't now,  was awesome.  She had a head on her shoulders, introduced us to new stuff, and was pretty chill.  She also worked, as a paramedic.  What I glean now (hindsight being 20-20) is that in order to work many of those 24 hour shifts, a little extra help was needed.  Never good to have that around my co-dependent alcoholic mother who is influenced so easily.  So yeah, my mom was eventually discharged from her job because she had a debilitation (bone spur) that was caused by her job (being on her feet), however I do remember quite a few days where she was home "sick" and unable to sleep....   I can't even say that she has held a job past that. :(

So, my role models suck.

Being a stay at home mom myself allowed me the fantastic opportunity to learn a bit about myself.  I helped in the kids' classrooms, volunteered for committees, worked part time, finished school, and made connections.  It was fun at the same time as being mind numbing difficult and boring all at once.  But I want to make sure that I could work a job. Work a job and have pride in what I do.  Work a job and have other people appreciate me for being there to do what was asked.  Have a career to be proud of and identify myself by.  I'm a "....."   A trade, a profession, a skill in which to produce something of value.  This is what I was missing from my parents and what I want to provide to my children.

But alas, I am sitting inside my head at work wondering if I'm saying or typing "do I really give a flying fuck" as I so desperately want to do just so I at least can run away from this scary frontier with a big smash-boom-bah that I can so readily imagine.  Instead, I type words that sound so placating (my apologies) and vague (if there is anything else) just to continue this unexplored and yet not always fulfilling journey I call "work".

Then there is the time I almost grabbed a co-worker's boobs (like a little honk-honk) because she startled me, my hands flew up and her chest is about that high.... we laughed real good.  Those part's I like (the time in space, not just the boobs (and not her boobs specifically)).

May 2009... That's a while!

Yep, last time blog flog dog published was may 2009. Not that I intended to stop, but you know it kimda fell by the wayside - ya know. I must confess, I've been having a ton of "moments" where I think that I would totally love to tell a story in a certain epic blogging way.... But then I'm distracted immediately (what's new) and it doesnt ever go past the thought to blog. But what the hell...had an epic night and wanted to immortalize it somehow, so here i am... And perhaps you too :) So I have an extra job on the weekends as needed helping out with some promotional campaigns for a media company. I get to talk to people all weekend and paid to do it too... Don't get me wrong, I have to work, but it is fun to do as infrequently as I do do it. So this weekend I find myself in Fremont. As in kinda bay area. I say kinda because I'm always so excited to go to the bay cause I love the ocean, I love seeing friends if I get the chance, and being in or near big cities or metropolis always gets me jazzed (please tell me what the fuck is wrong with that sentence grammatically cause I can't figure out what... But it sure sounds wrong). But Fremont is not by the ocean or friends. It is kinda like an armpit (no offense Fremontians). No chance to hang with friends (fremont, no cell phone, tired). But there is a hot tub at our lovely best western and by George, after 12 hours of work/ travel and a big mexican dinner including two delish margaritas, I'm going in. Borrow a swimsuit from my friend (who has a larger bust then mine so it sadly appears as if I have deflated something....) and go on down. Upon entering the pool, the scene that awaits: an olderish couple sitting on the side of the pool with their feet dangling in the water. A guy in the water just hanging on the side (not like a toddler, white knuckle death grip on the edge, feet splayed out, but arms up over the sides, just chilling like in an armchair), two teenage girls on lounge chairs listening to music, and another two young girls in the wArm pool of relaxation... Anticipating awkward silence when I interrupt their convo by hopping in the hot tub, I settle in and observe. The girls continue to chat however and I attempt my best efforts at melting away. But alas, I overhear the girls mention cochella and am complled I interject- "holla! Totally wanted to be there and sad I'm not." And thus I have two new friends. We discuss tupac (which the iPad strongly believes should be Tulsa, or oddly, tupamaros, tapachula - wtf?), tupac, and the hologram sensation and how overplayed it can quickly become when anyone can magically go on tour post mortom, which begs the question- are you watching a performance? Or just a recording? (recording presented in a very bad ass way, but whateves) So yeah, we got to discussing/chatting, which really means that they were listening to me postulate. I tell them about the history of NASCAR, future of ota radio broadcasting, etc... Getting to know the girls I find out that they actually live down the street and one of the music listening girls hopped the fence to break in so they could all go swimming. Bad ass high school seniors... Kinda. Then, the random pool guy joins us... I notice he sets down his little flask of alcohol and indicate how lovely it is to be having such an awesome evening with his own party in a bottle. Awesome right? Not till he said "yeah, but I'm bummed cause I lost my weed in the bushes". Friends I ask you, how do you respond ti or follow that? "aww shucks man, guess you'll have to spend your night only half as fucked as you were hoping....", or "gee, I'm plumb out myself otherwise I'd help ya out"... Or how about "maybe you shouldn't have brought your mo fo weed to the pool dumbass, lay of the alky and perhaps you'd be able to keep track of your possessions?". Naw, the teens just commented that yesterday was the day for partaking to which I followed up with how 420 day was started... So I told some fun stories, the girls were impressed and amused (or I'm just being egotistical and generous here) and I make up a fake stories about the teens (in from Albuquerque for an internship in banking, fake names for them- Jennifer & christine). Tell the dude that I live down the street and I hopped the fence to go for a swim (and he kindly educated me on how to enter the pool without hopping the fence). The girls play along and we continue on... Talk about the crazy mofo in Davis/sac who hijacked cars etc (weed dude shares that he's been to sac area before- north highlands!). We discuss tv shows, "Christine" sharing that she liked dexter, which like a boss, Chris (weed dude) kindly shares that he read one of the dexter books while in prison. Right? I am thinking that not a goddamn thing would be funnier or more entertaining at this point. And it just keeps going... Chris also shares that he's 27 (or maybe 28- this wasnt funny so I didn't really retain), has three kids, in three years (like a boss 'cause coming home from the hospital every new parent is all about how early that next kid can arrive!), he works construction, lives in Fremont but is at the hotel cause the company is paying for it... Yeay for new friends! Chris the dbag leaves and I've managed to spend an hour entertaining 2-4 teenage girls and making up stories for this lame creeper, hopefully inspire the teen girls to lead lives in which they in turn will have stories to entertain other young folks with, and find out that the girls are contemplating dining and ditching at Denny's. Cause if you're going to eat and not pay- splurge girls, go big! (I think one girl has sense to notify others that it's just mean to dine & dash - I agree and hope they listened to her sense of reason). Oh, and I'm sufficiently melted and turned into a raisin from all this time in the hot tub :) I swear folks, one of the most entertaining evenings in a long time. And btw, it must be me because as I went in search for the ice machine, I make a friend and we exchange info. I share that the third floor ice machine doesn't work, he shares that the ice bucket is under the bathroom sink. We then quest together to the second floor to obtain the desired ice. Epic night folks. Wanted to get it out there cause I have to share this kind of fun. Btw, my fake name was crystal. And the teens inform me that this glorious hotel is called the hooker hotel... Awesome. Night y'all!

profoundness

Ok, just got off the phone with my neighbor who opened up my eyes to a perspective that perhaps even I am too blind to ever see.
It starts with another phone call last night with my mother in law. The woman is amazing- she is more normal, patient, understanding, caring, intelligent then my mother and most other people I come across, and then she's just a kind person. Silently strong. Well, this mother in law, aka MIL, aka mom, called the other night and wanted to speak with me. I've been busy these days and haven't seen her much other then Easter (missed seeing her at a wedding shower when I skipped town to Canada), nor talked to her on the phone recently. As a matter of fact, I've been so mentally busy that when she (and many others) has called, I've told Dan to call back/follow up because he can and I'm so out there on a million other ideas. Well, with this mental, physical and emotional absence, mom thought that perhaps I was upset with her, maybe mad, or somehow our relationship had changed. This is the point which I remind you that this woman has the unusual canny to find the MOST perfect cards for me that always manage to convey the thought that despite the fact that I've married into the family, I'm considered family to the core. So she calls and gently asks if everything is ok and if she's said or done something recently that maybe I've been upset about/with... I've got this wild look on my face while my mind reels trying to think of all the instances in which I could have possibly offended her or done something that I wasn't quite aware of, or if yes, she had done something, or even worse, I've made her feel this way. How in the world do I express or convey to her that I might have been selfish and self absorbed enough to have somehow hurt her without intention and that this is news to me without making her feel that her perspective is wrong. I'm telling ya, I love when people are direct with me because yes, often I've got so much going on up in the cranial region that I often lose a bit of perspective or awareness. And in turn, I try to be as direct as possible with others without trying to be mean or hurt feelings. However I'm also sometimes so direct that I lack the ability to sympathize with others or be that gentle being that has just the right words to always make people understand without hurting their feelings. Instead I'm the one who will ignore ya till I remember ya and not aware that this might have hurt your feelings... And I appreciate it being out front. However, all assurances aside, I have no idea how to convey those feelings to make MIL feel better. I can't believe that I've done something wrong, yet I don't want to discredit her feelings. I tried as best as I could to let her know that no matter what I will always see her in my eyes as a mother to me (seriously, I love having this woman mother me), and wouldn't do anything to hurt her intentionally, and if I were somehow upset with her, that she'd know it (not in a bad way- just usually I like to work through issues or at least let everyone know how I'm feeling). I just had no idea how to console her as I had wanted too. I was left nearly speechless as this realm of interaction is just not my forte. And it only made me, the talker, feel utterly incompetent and even worse that I had hurt her and I couldn't make it up even though it was unintentional.
And back to the phone call with my neighbor. This woman has great insight. She tells me that perhaps my MIL and this phone call, this experience, is not something that I need to worry about, but better yet a sign that mom is a wonderful mom and can perhaps teach me how not to repeat this performance. That mom just might be the woman who will teach me to grow into a better me, help me reach out and explore this side of me that perhaps just didn't work so well before. And in turn I might learn something as a mother myself that in turn I can use to foster and nurture my relationship with my own daughter. It's a fantabolous mother’s day gift- one that is humbling yet encouraging. So thank you Mel and Mom, it's something that I hope to continue to chew on and one day spit out a shiny new side of me that only those closest to me can recognize as the result of having amazing and wonderful women, friends and family in my life.

Happy mother’s day weekend to all women worldwide, who are mothers, were mothers and have mothers.