On Black Friday, Mark picked up a present for his girlfriend. They've been going out for two months now! As everyone ooh-ed and aah-ed over his selection, Kira piped up with:
"Not to be mean or anything, but what if she DUMPS you before Christmas? Can I have it?"
Gotta love that girl. mk
Monday, November 30, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Run, Baby, Run
Last night I had to go to the high school to pick Mark up after basketball tryouts. Kira, of course, came with. As we were sitting out in the car waiting, Kira asked if she could go in the school to use the bathroom. I checked to make sure she knew where it was (it's a big building), and then said sure.
She got out of the car, and ran to the doors. Her hair (which comes about halfway down her back) was bouncing and flying and glorious, her arms were flailing in that little-girl-run way, and my heart just squeezed with love for her, and a tinge of sadness.
She's almost ten, you see, and growing up so quickly. How much longer will she run from place to place? How much longer before running isn't "cool"? Will she adopt the self-conscious walk that says she thinks everyone is watching her, and judging? How much longer until her running is totally efficient, arms held closer to her side, hands held in a clench? When will she stop grinning when she runs, for the joy of it?
She was running away, from me, to a place where the big kids, the young adults, go. Going out of the reach of my arms, where I could be there and hold her and keep her safe. Going towards independence and self-sufficiency.
When she reached the doors, she slowed to a walk and just looked so grown-up, my heart hurt again. She disappeared inside. I worried, a little. Would she find her way all right? Would she get lost, be scared? I waited.
Soon enough, but not soon enough, she reappeared at the door. Pushed it open, passed through. And ran back to me, hair flying, arms wild, and smiling. Oh, smiling. All was right in her world, she was filled with joy, and secure in being loved.
Run, baby, run. mk
She got out of the car, and ran to the doors. Her hair (which comes about halfway down her back) was bouncing and flying and glorious, her arms were flailing in that little-girl-run way, and my heart just squeezed with love for her, and a tinge of sadness.
She's almost ten, you see, and growing up so quickly. How much longer will she run from place to place? How much longer before running isn't "cool"? Will she adopt the self-conscious walk that says she thinks everyone is watching her, and judging? How much longer until her running is totally efficient, arms held closer to her side, hands held in a clench? When will she stop grinning when she runs, for the joy of it?
She was running away, from me, to a place where the big kids, the young adults, go. Going out of the reach of my arms, where I could be there and hold her and keep her safe. Going towards independence and self-sufficiency.
When she reached the doors, she slowed to a walk and just looked so grown-up, my heart hurt again. She disappeared inside. I worried, a little. Would she find her way all right? Would she get lost, be scared? I waited.
Soon enough, but not soon enough, she reappeared at the door. Pushed it open, passed through. And ran back to me, hair flying, arms wild, and smiling. Oh, smiling. All was right in her world, she was filled with joy, and secure in being loved.
Run, baby, run. mk
Friday, November 13, 2009
To Write Love On Her Arms
Today is International To Write Love On Her Arms Day. TWLOHA is a non-profit movement to raise awareness and provide hope and support for people struggling with depression, anxiety, addiction, and self-injury.
Being one who fights depression and anxiety on a daily basis, and also one who has self-injured, this is an important issue for me.
Some of the salient points:
* 121 million people in the world struggle with depression; 18 million in the U.S.
* 2/3 of people who suffer with depression will not seek treatment
* an estimated 4% of the population self-injures as a way to cope with emotional pain
People who struggle with these issues are not seeking attention (most will try to hide their symptoms and scars), are not "emo" or crazy or manipulative. They are real people, feeling real pain, and coping the best way they know how.
If someone you know deals with any of these struggles (and at least one does, since you're reading my blog and therefore know me), then show that you care. Show that you support the movement, give hope to millions.
Write "Love" on your arms today. mk
Mark wrote Love on his arms. He's bringing a Sharpie to school so that he can get his friends to do it, too.
If even one person at the high school who has these issues sees this demonstration of support, maybe they will find a scrap of hope.
Hope is there.
Rescue is possible.
To Write Love On Her Arms
Being one who fights depression and anxiety on a daily basis, and also one who has self-injured, this is an important issue for me.
Some of the salient points:
* 121 million people in the world struggle with depression; 18 million in the U.S.
* 2/3 of people who suffer with depression will not seek treatment
* an estimated 4% of the population self-injures as a way to cope with emotional pain
People who struggle with these issues are not seeking attention (most will try to hide their symptoms and scars), are not "emo" or crazy or manipulative. They are real people, feeling real pain, and coping the best way they know how.
If someone you know deals with any of these struggles (and at least one does, since you're reading my blog and therefore know me), then show that you care. Show that you support the movement, give hope to millions.
Write "Love" on your arms today. mk
Mark wrote Love on his arms. He's bringing a Sharpie to school so that he can get his friends to do it, too.
If even one person at the high school who has these issues sees this demonstration of support, maybe they will find a scrap of hope.
Hope is there.
Rescue is possible.
To Write Love On Her Arms
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
And I'm Not Even Drunk
* Mark just came in from playing basketball, and I swung around in my computer chair and said, "Hey....go out and grab the freezer from the big pizza."
* This was shortly after I noticed that I was scrolling down through names on an email I was forwarding, in time with the music that was playing ("Grey Street" by Dave Matthews)
* My daughter is playing "butler" to my son. Purely because she feels like it. She stands waiting attentively with her hands neatly crossed in front of her until he asks her to do something, then she says, "Yes, sir" very professionally and heads off to do it (right now she's getting him a drink). A bit ago she was getting his rebounds for him, and clapping when he made a basket. Why the hell don't I have a butler?
* Spoke too soon. She just cheerily asked me: "Do you want me to be your butler too? It's free!" But she doesn't do chores. I just received a glass of cider. Awesome!
* I absolutely love the song "Hunger For the Great Light" by Dave Matthews. I'm really getting into his music. How did I miss out on this for so long?
* My kids are very tolerant of my weirdness. They just go on their merry way.
* I've got a new therapist who is working with me on DBT (Dialectic Behavioural Therapy) for borderline personality disorder. I have a book, he gives me assignments to read certain parts (as well as other general assignments). I'm referring to it as my "Independent Study in Psychology." Makes me feel like I'm doing something cool. Almost like a normal person.
* Kira's fingers click rather quickly on her keyboard. I'm pretty darn impressed that she can type that well in fourth grade. I didn't learn to type until high school. And that was on a TYPEWRITER. I don't think my kids have ever even SEEN one of those. Wow. That just made me feel really, really, REALLY old.
* Mark is unimpressed. He is grounded. He has passed in several assignments late in science, and as a result he currently has an F average. We are 8 days into the new quarter. Per our homework contract, he is grounded from pretty much everything in the world until he pulls the average up to a C or better. Basketball tryouts are on Monday. In addition, he can't watch TV, and because I enjoy having my kids around me as part of a family, the TV is off for all of us. I really like seeing the different ways they choose to spend their time. Mark is reading, Kira is emailing a friend, and I'm, well, here. Not exactly a close family activity, but it beats staring glazedly at the TV.
* I cannot find my glue gun. I brought it over to Brenda's for Halloween, and I'm not sure if it got mixed in with some other of my stuff, or someone else's, but I can't find it. You never realize how much stuff you need to hot-glue until you can't find your glue gun. Even if prior to that it had been sitting on the stairs for months, doing nothing. Can't find it? You will find 500 things that desperately need it, NOW.
* I reeeeeeally need to go to bed early tonight. I finally broke the four-week-long headache I had, but broke it with Excedrin Migraine (and yes, I realize it is EXACTLY the same formula as Excedrin, in different packaging with different dosage instructions, and besides I got the generic, which just calls itself "Headache Relief."), which contains caffeine, and being very sensitive to caffeine, I then was unable to get more than 2.5 hours of sleep last night. So I am very tired, but at the same time kinda wired because I took the Excedrin again this morning just to wipe out the last vestiges of the headache.
* The combination of lack of sleep and caffeine hype is probably why I collapsed in hysterical laughter when I told Mark to get the freezer out of the big pizza. And he just patted me on the head and moved on.
K, think I'm gonna stop with the freeform blogging and go do something else. No idea what, though. Ah well, something will come up. mk
* This was shortly after I noticed that I was scrolling down through names on an email I was forwarding, in time with the music that was playing ("Grey Street" by Dave Matthews)
* My daughter is playing "butler" to my son. Purely because she feels like it. She stands waiting attentively with her hands neatly crossed in front of her until he asks her to do something, then she says, "Yes, sir" very professionally and heads off to do it (right now she's getting him a drink). A bit ago she was getting his rebounds for him, and clapping when he made a basket. Why the hell don't I have a butler?
* Spoke too soon. She just cheerily asked me: "Do you want me to be your butler too? It's free!" But she doesn't do chores. I just received a glass of cider. Awesome!
* I absolutely love the song "Hunger For the Great Light" by Dave Matthews. I'm really getting into his music. How did I miss out on this for so long?
* My kids are very tolerant of my weirdness. They just go on their merry way.
* I've got a new therapist who is working with me on DBT (Dialectic Behavioural Therapy) for borderline personality disorder. I have a book, he gives me assignments to read certain parts (as well as other general assignments). I'm referring to it as my "Independent Study in Psychology." Makes me feel like I'm doing something cool. Almost like a normal person.
* Kira's fingers click rather quickly on her keyboard. I'm pretty darn impressed that she can type that well in fourth grade. I didn't learn to type until high school. And that was on a TYPEWRITER. I don't think my kids have ever even SEEN one of those. Wow. That just made me feel really, really, REALLY old.
* Mark is unimpressed. He is grounded. He has passed in several assignments late in science, and as a result he currently has an F average. We are 8 days into the new quarter. Per our homework contract, he is grounded from pretty much everything in the world until he pulls the average up to a C or better. Basketball tryouts are on Monday. In addition, he can't watch TV, and because I enjoy having my kids around me as part of a family, the TV is off for all of us. I really like seeing the different ways they choose to spend their time. Mark is reading, Kira is emailing a friend, and I'm, well, here. Not exactly a close family activity, but it beats staring glazedly at the TV.
* I cannot find my glue gun. I brought it over to Brenda's for Halloween, and I'm not sure if it got mixed in with some other of my stuff, or someone else's, but I can't find it. You never realize how much stuff you need to hot-glue until you can't find your glue gun. Even if prior to that it had been sitting on the stairs for months, doing nothing. Can't find it? You will find 500 things that desperately need it, NOW.
* I reeeeeeally need to go to bed early tonight. I finally broke the four-week-long headache I had, but broke it with Excedrin Migraine (and yes, I realize it is EXACTLY the same formula as Excedrin, in different packaging with different dosage instructions, and besides I got the generic, which just calls itself "Headache Relief."), which contains caffeine, and being very sensitive to caffeine, I then was unable to get more than 2.5 hours of sleep last night. So I am very tired, but at the same time kinda wired because I took the Excedrin again this morning just to wipe out the last vestiges of the headache.
* The combination of lack of sleep and caffeine hype is probably why I collapsed in hysterical laughter when I told Mark to get the freezer out of the big pizza. And he just patted me on the head and moved on.
K, think I'm gonna stop with the freeform blogging and go do something else. No idea what, though. Ah well, something will come up. mk
Monday, November 09, 2009
Are We All Insane?
Have you ever really put a lot of thought into what you would do if you found yourself in an insane situation? Something that is completely impossible according to everything you've known your entire life? By this I mean, what do you really, truly, think you would do if in the course of your everyday existence, you saw something that just couldn't be real. Let's say, you woke up and your house was full of little people, about five inches tall. These people talked to you, in rational sentences. Would you immediately tell someone? Or would you try to figure out if this was real, or a hallucination. Would you worry about what people would say or do if it *was* a hallucination? What would you think? What would you *feel*?
If you haven't seen the movie A Beautiful Mind, stop reading here. I hate giving things away, so here's your chance not to have it spoiled for you.
Can you imagine being John Nash? Can you imagine having someone who had been an important part of your life, for YEARS, your *best friend*, be nothing but a hallucination? It's one thing to be faced with something you *know* can't be real, something that could easily be classified as a delusion, such as hearing inanimate objects talk to you, or seeing pterodactyls flying around the park. It's another when you can't trust any of your senses, when each and every one of them could be betraying you at any moment, and you wouldn't know.
Really take some time to think about this. Set several minutes aside to do it.
Have you ever experienced anything that you wonder about, whether it's real? What did you do? Did you ignore it, and hope it went away? Did you tell someone? Or did you just keep it quiet, pretend it didn't happen. lalalalala, I'm not listening, if I cover my eyes you can't see me.
Can you always tell whether something really happened? Have you ever had a dream that was so realistic that you somehow absorbed it into your memories and mixed it in with your true history?
There's no real point to this post, no clear ending. Just something I've been pondering, as I've been reading dozens of Stephen King short stories. Just finished one about a guy who hallucinated a whole other person, who was actually himself. Bizarre stuff. That can happen. Maybe even to me. Or you. mk
If you haven't seen the movie A Beautiful Mind, stop reading here. I hate giving things away, so here's your chance not to have it spoiled for you.
Can you imagine being John Nash? Can you imagine having someone who had been an important part of your life, for YEARS, your *best friend*, be nothing but a hallucination? It's one thing to be faced with something you *know* can't be real, something that could easily be classified as a delusion, such as hearing inanimate objects talk to you, or seeing pterodactyls flying around the park. It's another when you can't trust any of your senses, when each and every one of them could be betraying you at any moment, and you wouldn't know.
Really take some time to think about this. Set several minutes aside to do it.
Have you ever experienced anything that you wonder about, whether it's real? What did you do? Did you ignore it, and hope it went away? Did you tell someone? Or did you just keep it quiet, pretend it didn't happen. lalalalala, I'm not listening, if I cover my eyes you can't see me.
Can you always tell whether something really happened? Have you ever had a dream that was so realistic that you somehow absorbed it into your memories and mixed it in with your true history?
There's no real point to this post, no clear ending. Just something I've been pondering, as I've been reading dozens of Stephen King short stories. Just finished one about a guy who hallucinated a whole other person, who was actually himself. Bizarre stuff. That can happen. Maybe even to me. Or you. mk
Sunday, November 01, 2009
I Love You People
Yep. I do. I love you all. I love my family, I love my blog, I love EVERYTHING.....
and I have been into the Smirnoff.
Tomorrow is a full moon, Halloween was yesterday, and all is right with the world. Well, except my kids having a horrible allergic reaction to the makeup that they wore last night (and Kira wore the night before, too, so her face is all swollen up like the Stay-Puf marshmallow man). Neither one of them wants to go to school looking the way they do. I don't blame them. Especially Kira. She is *bad.* I hope it goes away. :(
My Seasonal Affective Disorder is going to get a really great boost now that we've set the clocks back and sunset is somewhere in the neighborhood of 4:30 in the afternoon (and earlier every day). Awesomeness. Like I need that crap. But my Wellbutrin is on its last renewal, so when I call the office to have them renew it, I'm going to ask if they can double-dose it. Or at least, in my vodkaconfidence, I am going to. Likely, I'll just meekly accept the current dose and continue to feel like crap until December when they might realize that I SHOULD have increased the damn dosage in October.
Tomorrow there is NOT a new episode of House. I freakin' love that show. I do not want to watch baseball. I do not want to watch Dancing With The Stars (get your own freakin' time slot, losers). I want HOUSE. grrrrrr.
When I went out to my car to find my camera to upload the pictures from last night (which I'm not posting yet because I need to edit them and honestly, am not in the best frame of mind to write a well-written post about how awesome the evening was), I had the most amazing idea. Can't remember it now, but it was amazing. Trust me.
Facebook is sucking me in with all of these applications. Now I am a farmer (on TWO different farms), and I am stranded on a desert island. That has a store on it. And where I can island-hop. Honestly, if I can hop from island to island, am I really still stranded? And why would I go back to my island when Michelle and Wendy have MUCH better islands than I do?
I want chocolate, I don't have any in the house, and it is irritating me. I am making do with a "Low Fat" Quaker Chewy oatmeal raisin bar. 90 calories. That's because it's two freakin' bites, people.
I have a new therapist. His name is John and he specializes in DBT, which is a treatment for people with borderline personality disorder. Which apparently my most recent therapist JUST realized I really struggle with. After TWO FUCKING YEARS. She was all, "I think you might be dealing with BPD." I'm like: "Yeahhhhhhh????" (like, this is not news, lady) Yes, I have great faith in the mental health community. Anyway, John seems really good so far, especially since he makes me really nervous and he won't let me side-step questions. He thinks within the next year I will have mastered several skills that will greatly help. Within a year! That's amazing considering how long I have been in therapy, to think that I will have measurable results in such a short time.
My buzz seems to be leveling out. Where's my vodka?
There are 54 days left until Christmas. One of my Facebook friends has a countdown on her profile page. eek! I can't think of what to get for Mark. He's no help. He wants an iPod touch (stand in line, buddy) or a "real" cellphone (right now he has a TracFone and he doesn't want to spend the money on additional minutes....and he thinks I do?). And he can't think of anything else. Great. Christmas Day, he'll open new socks and gift cards for TracFone minutes.
I just put something in my mouth without being entirely certain what it was. I *thought* it was a crumb from my oatmeal raisin bar that somehow dropped on my desk, but I didn't know for sure. Fortunately, that's what it turned out to me. wow. just, wow.
I want to throw a party. At the same time, this idea scares the living hell out of me. What if no one comes? What if they all come and they're bored out of their minds and they never want to have anything to do with me ever again? How do you throw a party, anyway? I know all these people I want to invite, but most of them have spouses or significant others, and, um, I don't? In fact, do I even HAVE any single friends anymore? Wow. Well, Peter, and Kimmie, but they both live in the Boston area. That's not helpful.
My vacuum cleaner has been in my living room for weeks. I have not vacuumed. It's just hanging out there.
Did I mention I love you all?
What do *I* want for Christmas? Kira was asking me awhile ago, and I was having a hard time coming up with things to tell her. Partly because a lot of what I want isn't exactly exciting ("hey, darling, can you give me some new ceiling panels for the dining room? That would be lovely"). Okay, mostly because what I want isn't exciting. Or affordable for a nine-year-old.
Oh fuck. She's got a birthday coming up. What day is it???? It's on a Wednesday. Dang, I need to think of a party. And a present.
Her closet is a friggin hell-hole. She never actually puts her clothes away when I ask her. She just throws them in there, or hides them. Great. And I hear a lot of "all you have to do is" put them away for her and get her all fixed up to start fresh. Yeah. If it was that easy. I'm good if I friggin' SHOWER every day.
I've been trying a new thing of dressing up nicely. I try not to wear jeans. Except on days when I'm going to be doing heavy work that would beat hell out of nice clothes. It's kind of nice. I missed looking good most days. Except I keep getting comments like "Why are you all dressed up?" which just tells me how far I have fallen. Cripe.
I did not wear a costume to the Halloween Carnival. I wore nice black pants and a purple top with silver rings at the neckline and flats. People asked why I didn't dress up and I would either indicate my outfit and say "I did dress up" or "I'm a psychopath. They look like everyone else."
How long is this entry, anyway? Oh well. I'm not done yet.
Just got a text from my very dear friend Shelly. She said "I hate sundays." I said "I'm buzzed. I love sundays. I love you. I love everything." Am waiting for reply.
I need to get laid. I'm sorry, Mom-and-Dad-who-occasionally-read-my-blog, but it's true. It has been entirely too long. Or not long enough. Or, oh shit, someone stop me from blathering penis jokes. Really. Oh my fucking god. Oh wait, that's blasphemy. (and I had to type that 9 times before I spelled it right). hahahhahahahhahahah Oh fuck. good vodka.
Two drinks. I am such a cheap drunk. Or very liberal with the vodka. Your choice.
I wonder how comfortable it would be if I continued to sit here cross-legged in my office chair, with the slide-out keyboard tray out, with my head down on the desk. I bet I could fall asleep. I bet I would NOT be happy when I woke up.
I miss my friend Peter. He was up a couple of weeks ago, made me dinner, the next day we went to Fort Knox....I want him to come back up soon. C' mon Peter.....
Just realized I do, in fact, have chocolate. Had s'mores makings in a bag that has been floating around the kitchen, to camp, back to the kitchen, for quite a while. Snagged a partially eaten Hershey bar from earlier this week. Yummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
chocolate
Read this fabulous article in Cosmopolitan (boy those women are sluts...why do I want a subscription so badly then?) about how women are dying from drinking, because they are drinking too much too fast and then going to sleep and never waking up. Awesome. Apparently women who drink very rarely are more susceptible to this than regular drinkers, and it's most particularly dangerous to those who drink to the point of throwing up. So I am apparently not at risk here. I'm just rather buzzed, and will sleep well. But the article definitely made an impression.
(and wow, when I googled cosmopolitan to link to that article, the 3rd result was a recipe FOR a Cosmopolitan. Don't drink it!)
oh well. couldn't find a link. Trust me, drink slowly and if you're too wasted, do NOT be alone.
I have "How Much Is That Doggie In The Window" in my head. Wow.
K people. I think I have inflicted enough on you for awhile. Gonna sign off, continue texting with Shelly (dang those little buttons are getting slippery) and check in with you later. xoxox mk
and I have been into the Smirnoff.
Tomorrow is a full moon, Halloween was yesterday, and all is right with the world. Well, except my kids having a horrible allergic reaction to the makeup that they wore last night (and Kira wore the night before, too, so her face is all swollen up like the Stay-Puf marshmallow man). Neither one of them wants to go to school looking the way they do. I don't blame them. Especially Kira. She is *bad.* I hope it goes away. :(
My Seasonal Affective Disorder is going to get a really great boost now that we've set the clocks back and sunset is somewhere in the neighborhood of 4:30 in the afternoon (and earlier every day). Awesomeness. Like I need that crap. But my Wellbutrin is on its last renewal, so when I call the office to have them renew it, I'm going to ask if they can double-dose it. Or at least, in my vodkaconfidence, I am going to. Likely, I'll just meekly accept the current dose and continue to feel like crap until December when they might realize that I SHOULD have increased the damn dosage in October.
Tomorrow there is NOT a new episode of House. I freakin' love that show. I do not want to watch baseball. I do not want to watch Dancing With The Stars (get your own freakin' time slot, losers). I want HOUSE. grrrrrr.
When I went out to my car to find my camera to upload the pictures from last night (which I'm not posting yet because I need to edit them and honestly, am not in the best frame of mind to write a well-written post about how awesome the evening was), I had the most amazing idea. Can't remember it now, but it was amazing. Trust me.
Facebook is sucking me in with all of these applications. Now I am a farmer (on TWO different farms), and I am stranded on a desert island. That has a store on it. And where I can island-hop. Honestly, if I can hop from island to island, am I really still stranded? And why would I go back to my island when Michelle and Wendy have MUCH better islands than I do?
I want chocolate, I don't have any in the house, and it is irritating me. I am making do with a "Low Fat" Quaker Chewy oatmeal raisin bar. 90 calories. That's because it's two freakin' bites, people.
I have a new therapist. His name is John and he specializes in DBT, which is a treatment for people with borderline personality disorder. Which apparently my most recent therapist JUST realized I really struggle with. After TWO FUCKING YEARS. She was all, "I think you might be dealing with BPD." I'm like: "Yeahhhhhhh????" (like, this is not news, lady) Yes, I have great faith in the mental health community. Anyway, John seems really good so far, especially since he makes me really nervous and he won't let me side-step questions. He thinks within the next year I will have mastered several skills that will greatly help. Within a year! That's amazing considering how long I have been in therapy, to think that I will have measurable results in such a short time.
My buzz seems to be leveling out. Where's my vodka?
There are 54 days left until Christmas. One of my Facebook friends has a countdown on her profile page. eek! I can't think of what to get for Mark. He's no help. He wants an iPod touch (stand in line, buddy) or a "real" cellphone (right now he has a TracFone and he doesn't want to spend the money on additional minutes....and he thinks I do?). And he can't think of anything else. Great. Christmas Day, he'll open new socks and gift cards for TracFone minutes.
I just put something in my mouth without being entirely certain what it was. I *thought* it was a crumb from my oatmeal raisin bar that somehow dropped on my desk, but I didn't know for sure. Fortunately, that's what it turned out to me. wow. just, wow.
I want to throw a party. At the same time, this idea scares the living hell out of me. What if no one comes? What if they all come and they're bored out of their minds and they never want to have anything to do with me ever again? How do you throw a party, anyway? I know all these people I want to invite, but most of them have spouses or significant others, and, um, I don't? In fact, do I even HAVE any single friends anymore? Wow. Well, Peter, and Kimmie, but they both live in the Boston area. That's not helpful.
My vacuum cleaner has been in my living room for weeks. I have not vacuumed. It's just hanging out there.
Did I mention I love you all?
What do *I* want for Christmas? Kira was asking me awhile ago, and I was having a hard time coming up with things to tell her. Partly because a lot of what I want isn't exactly exciting ("hey, darling, can you give me some new ceiling panels for the dining room? That would be lovely"). Okay, mostly because what I want isn't exciting. Or affordable for a nine-year-old.
Oh fuck. She's got a birthday coming up. What day is it???? It's on a Wednesday. Dang, I need to think of a party. And a present.
Her closet is a friggin hell-hole. She never actually puts her clothes away when I ask her. She just throws them in there, or hides them. Great. And I hear a lot of "all you have to do is" put them away for her and get her all fixed up to start fresh. Yeah. If it was that easy. I'm good if I friggin' SHOWER every day.
I've been trying a new thing of dressing up nicely. I try not to wear jeans. Except on days when I'm going to be doing heavy work that would beat hell out of nice clothes. It's kind of nice. I missed looking good most days. Except I keep getting comments like "Why are you all dressed up?" which just tells me how far I have fallen. Cripe.
I did not wear a costume to the Halloween Carnival. I wore nice black pants and a purple top with silver rings at the neckline and flats. People asked why I didn't dress up and I would either indicate my outfit and say "I did dress up" or "I'm a psychopath. They look like everyone else."
How long is this entry, anyway? Oh well. I'm not done yet.
Just got a text from my very dear friend Shelly. She said "I hate sundays." I said "I'm buzzed. I love sundays. I love you. I love everything." Am waiting for reply.
I need to get laid. I'm sorry, Mom-and-Dad-who-occasionally-read-my-blog, but it's true. It has been entirely too long. Or not long enough. Or, oh shit, someone stop me from blathering penis jokes. Really. Oh my fucking god. Oh wait, that's blasphemy. (and I had to type that 9 times before I spelled it right). hahahhahahahhahahah Oh fuck. good vodka.
Two drinks. I am such a cheap drunk. Or very liberal with the vodka. Your choice.
I wonder how comfortable it would be if I continued to sit here cross-legged in my office chair, with the slide-out keyboard tray out, with my head down on the desk. I bet I could fall asleep. I bet I would NOT be happy when I woke up.
I miss my friend Peter. He was up a couple of weeks ago, made me dinner, the next day we went to Fort Knox....I want him to come back up soon. C' mon Peter.....
Just realized I do, in fact, have chocolate. Had s'mores makings in a bag that has been floating around the kitchen, to camp, back to the kitchen, for quite a while. Snagged a partially eaten Hershey bar from earlier this week. Yummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
chocolate
Read this fabulous article in Cosmopolitan (boy those women are sluts...why do I want a subscription so badly then?) about how women are dying from drinking, because they are drinking too much too fast and then going to sleep and never waking up. Awesome. Apparently women who drink very rarely are more susceptible to this than regular drinkers, and it's most particularly dangerous to those who drink to the point of throwing up. So I am apparently not at risk here. I'm just rather buzzed, and will sleep well. But the article definitely made an impression.
(and wow, when I googled cosmopolitan to link to that article, the 3rd result was a recipe FOR a Cosmopolitan. Don't drink it!)
oh well. couldn't find a link. Trust me, drink slowly and if you're too wasted, do NOT be alone.
I have "How Much Is That Doggie In The Window" in my head. Wow.
K people. I think I have inflicted enough on you for awhile. Gonna sign off, continue texting with Shelly (dang those little buttons are getting slippery) and check in with you later. xoxox mk
Halloween Carnival 2009
I have pictures! From the Halloween Carnival, which Kira did NOT win a prize at (she was robbed, I tell you! ROBBED!) Several people agreed that she was definitely "scarier" than the girl in her age category who won scariest, but since I really don't care, I had such an incredible rush just looking at the results of nearly two hours of makeup time.....here we go!
In case you can't figure it out (and if you can't, what kind of Halloween person are you? Seriously....) Kira went as a dead prom queen. What's the saying? The best prom queen is a dead prom queen....
Doesn't she look pretty?
Yeah, I would NOT want to be telling her she didn't win....
She even had "scar" tattoos going up her wrists and on her upper arm...she loved them. I didn't tell her what the wrist tattoos meant.
Aren't my children gorgeous? Kira's even got the model poses down.... :)
Mark took about 30 seconds to plan out his costume for the evening....and then when he got there, he took off the mask and someone painted his face like a basketball. :)
We had a really good time at the Carnival, of course. The kids went through the haunted house (Mark gloated that it wasn't as scary as his class did last year...which he would have claimed even if they had Hannibal Lecter in there giving cooking lessons), several of Mark's friends also came (and he went to a dance afterwards in the next town over), Kira ran around with her friends happily shrieking. It was great. Very good lead-in to THE BIG DAY. mk
In case you can't figure it out (and if you can't, what kind of Halloween person are you? Seriously....) Kira went as a dead prom queen. What's the saying? The best prom queen is a dead prom queen....
Doesn't she look pretty?
Yeah, I would NOT want to be telling her she didn't win....
She even had "scar" tattoos going up her wrists and on her upper arm...she loved them. I didn't tell her what the wrist tattoos meant.
Aren't my children gorgeous? Kira's even got the model poses down.... :)
Mark took about 30 seconds to plan out his costume for the evening....and then when he got there, he took off the mask and someone painted his face like a basketball. :)We had a really good time at the Carnival, of course. The kids went through the haunted house (Mark gloated that it wasn't as scary as his class did last year...which he would have claimed even if they had Hannibal Lecter in there giving cooking lessons), several of Mark's friends also came (and he went to a dance afterwards in the next town over), Kira ran around with her friends happily shrieking. It was great. Very good lead-in to THE BIG DAY. mk
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