waking fog

I am a dreamer.  A vivid dreamer.  I very present dreamer.

My nightmares tend to be reoccurring.  There’s the one where my teeth are falling out.  The one where I have a never ending piece of bubble gum that I can never fully get out of my mouth.  I think those are easily interpreted as things I can’t and I things I need to say.   

I have the confusion nightmare.  It is what I imagine dementia will be like.  I can’t form thoughts, I’m lost, I recognize faces but don’t know who they are, I’m don’t know where I’m at, I’m agitated and terrified.  Deep down, this is the thing I am most afraid of suffering from. 

What felt like all night and this morning, I had the kind of nightmare that is calm and seemingly harmless at first, but then it gets a hold of you and you realize things are not as they seem.  Worse yet, it’s the kind where you can wake up multiple times and it just grabs you right back when you go back to sleep.

I dreamed I was dead, but still very much with my family.  Watching them, and them fully unable to see or hear me.  Trapped and helpless while they were in pain and dealing with life after my death.  It was so real. So, plain and factual.  Which made it worse because it was so hard to tell that I was just dreaming.  When there are no purple fuzzy monsters around to tell your brain that this is obviously not actually happening to dream, such pedestrian images as my husband crying while he makes the kids lunches is heartbreakingly authentic feeling in a dream state.

I woke up so deeply sad and discombobulated.  I could barely get myself out the door this morning.  I felt like I’d gotten some sort of awful glance into an alternate universe and I hated it.  I need some sort of subconscious brain bleach.  A Silkwood shower for my id. 

relax, don't do it.

Never fear dear friends, the habits of past lives are not going to be showing up in my current life.

The list of reasons why not, is lengthy and sound.  Topping it is the fact that I am not good at moderation, I didn't used to dabble in the dark arts, I was the high queen.  Yet, I came out of a decade of incredibly bad choices, mildly dangerous situations, and damage to the body, relatively unscathed.  The party gods were kind to me and that would all go immediately in the opposite direction should I forget that gift and think I could get away with such decadence now.  Not when I have things like Duder and Sally Brown in my life as collateral. The party gods love to take away all things precious, the key to my success was having nothing of heartfelt value in my life while I lived so selfishly.  

Then there's the fact that that shit burns y'all.  I'm such a wimp now, I don't even like nasal spray at allergy season.  So truly, do not worry about me turning into a fucking, if indeed thinner, idiot.
I am a girl who likes instant gratification, and easy solutions, but when you're pushing forty, weight loss is a tricky bitch and it's a battle you have to pump yourself up for, I was just making light of the situation, knowing the choices that are ahead of me.  

So the family did well this year.  I had a peaceful empty house, all to myself on Saturday.  Hubs took the kids to help him work in his mother's yard and left me to watch movies and laze about.  It was glorious as only quite, me time can be.  

Then Sunday they let me sleep until 9, wake up to fresh coffee and homemade cards.  About a month ago I had hinted at wanting a mother's bracelet, something with each of the four kids' birthstones, but not one of those charm bracelets, something non-dangly.  They found exactly the one I was wanting.  Hubs decided to add my birthstone in the middle of the four, which I would not have done, had I ordered it for myself, but I think it's a sweet thought and gives it a nice balanced look.  I love it, basically.  

I got a tickle out of Sunday morning when I went to take a shower, as soon as the bathroom door closed, I could hear hubs and kids scrambling to clean up the messes they had created and/or not cleaned up from the night before.  Bless them, they know if they didn't I would and it meant a lot to hear them running up and down the hall, vacuuming and generally acting as if it were a drill. Little do they know, shit like that is what I appreciate the most.  

We headed up to the SILs to spend her first Mother's Day with her.  Speaking of, have I bothered to brag on her?  I know I always bitch about her, but should tell y'all, she is such a laid back, relaxed mom, I am shocked.  There's no hovering, no peeking her head around the corner if your holding the baby and she starts to cry, no tisking at how someone else holds or feeds her.  I am amazed.  She is extremely chill for a first time mother.  Sure, she's an aunt four times over, but it can all be very different when it's your baby, especially given their story.

Also, about their story.  I may do something I never thought I'd do.  I may delete those posts regarding my hissy fit at being excluded from her circle of trust.  It was just rude and shitty and while I felt it at the time, I get it more now and I'd be devastated if she ever read it.  I don't know how she ever would, but the internet is very small place, anything is possible. I feel like a real bitch, and usually that doesn't bother me, but this time it does. 

Gotta scoot, work calls.  Be well this Monday, if that sort of thing is possible. 

friday randoms

        

Hello strangers. 

I’ve got bunches of fractions of thoughts all discombobulated and scattered about.  I could attempt to corral them in some way, but I think they frown upon sparking up in the work place and slightly stoned is the only way these things are going to settle down long enough to be articulated.  I’ll do my best, under these oppressive circumstances.

Good Things:

-         I love my job and my coworkers.  Some more than others, but that’s to be expected. 

-         School is almost out.  I am ready for a summer break.  Rascal Dad and Stepmom have moved so much closer and are already asking to have the kids as much as possible.  My SIL has decided to be a stay at homer and has offered to keep the kids a bunch too.  I’m excited that we won’t be messing with a daycare this summer. 

-          Hubs and I are attempting actual conversations about important and meaningful shit.  There is much less yelling involved.  It’s awkward and it’s not easy, but we are putting in equal effort and that’s enough for right now.  It’s a little like two people who don’t speak the same language but both can speak a third language, but not very well, but it’s the only language we can communicate in.

-         The kids have made several mentions of Mother’s Day and I while I have a no stress policy on the day, it does feel nice to be appreciated in such a vocal way.  What can I say, I’m shallow.  We will be spending Sunday at the SILs and I’m excited because this is her first MD as a mother and that’s a really big deal for her. 

Meh Things:

-         Dudes, my pants are snug and I do not like it.  I am not feeling the way you wanna feel and look come Spring time.  Being heavy like this make me have the strongest cravings for coke. I remember what it was like to be never hungry, full of energy and rocking a pants size nearly half of what I’m at now.  Funny how a drug I haven’t seen in over a decade can still whisper my name.  Sometimes I feel like I’ve lived a whole other life that doesn’t at all jive with this one.  Better to have come through all of that to this other side, though, I’m certainly not complaining.

-         I feel like I need to reach out to my brother.  He’s clearly struggling out there, he always needs money, but he’s also a grown ass man who has fucked up priorities and his mess is his doing.  Unmarried, no kids, no parent under his care, if he can’t support just him, I’m at a loss as to what I can do to help that.  But he is my little brother, so I want to help. But I want to yell at him too. So since I can’t help and yelling wont help I say nothing and we don’t talk. Yes, that’s a bit of a family theme, shut up.

-         I’m still feeling a lot of disconnect from the world.  Not bad, just indifferent.  Not mad, just apathetic.  I am hoping the cloud passes because I’m not feeling much inner sunshine. 

So there ya go.  That’s me. That’s where we’re all at. 

How about y’all?  Where are you at?

deeper into the crazy abyss

Oh, you wanna see it do you, Pickleope?  You think you can handle the crazy?  Hang on tight, we aim to please.

Let's start with some of the cat themed clothing, shall we?  These are all shirts, artfully cropped in pic form. Sent to me by Mrs. B.

Just a drop in the bucket people. 

Next up, are the puppets.  Mrs. B apologizes for the photo quality, but Catty watches her like a paranoid hawk and is particularly sensitive to anything cat related being handled.  These were taken hastily.  

Lastly, lest you think we are picking on this poor woman, one little tidbit I forgot to mention the other day, is she often walks around in various stages of undress.  Typically pants-less, but sometimes it's full monty.  Well, there are usually running shoes on, because that makes sense.

Mrs. Brightside has asked her repeatedly to please be fully dressed by the time she arrives in the morning.   Can you imagine, walking into your job and having to wonder if your boss will be standing in the kitchen in nothing but a cat t-shirt and Nikes?  

Bless her.  I love the stories, but I feel for my friend.  Luckily, she is searching for a better situation.  She's made peace with her guilt in leaving this insane woman to her own devices but she can't put up with her demands, attitude and accusations.  Let's all wish her job hunt luck.

things i can't unsee nor stop watching

Damn you Mrs. Brightside!  Damn You!!

So my bestie works for the craziest of all the Cat Ladies.  I know we all think we know crazy, but this chick is off any charts I am familiar with. Mrs. B’s job is to help this insane hoarder get home cleared, cleaned and ready for sale.  So far it’s been two years.  You read that right, two years.

It’s nearly impossible to get her to get rid of anything.  Mrs. B once spent an entire day sending me phone pics of all this woman’s cat shirts that were twenty years old or older that she was refusing to toss out.  ALL of her clothes are cat clothes.  Take that in.  Every shirt has some sort of cat related theme. 

She once yelled at my bestie because she saw her open bottled water, pour some into a glass for her then pour the rest into the cat bowl.  Yeah, it was “contaminated”. 

She puts on puppet shows.  For the cats.  With voices. 

Anyway, one of the two cats (let’s all praise baby Jesus that she only has the two) had a surgery recently.  And Catty said that my friend was going to be forced to take the week off of work, unpaid, because the cat needed peace and quiet to recuperate.  Apparently, this crazy bitch sat in the bathroom floor for the better part of a week, for hours and hours a day, watching the resting cat.  For reals.

All of that is back story to explain why I got this text from Mrs. B in the middle of a workday last week.

I can’t stop watching Gigolos.

I had no idea what she was talking about, so I called her on my home and she filled me in.  How I wish I hadn’t asked, because of course she was slaying me while telling me about it and I had to see it for myself. And now I am crack addicted. 

It’s a “reality” show, on Showtime, that follows around these dudes in Vegas who work for an escort services called Cowboys for Angels.  It has the confessional style interviews, follows them on dates, and shows them hanging out together and at various social events. 

There are archetypes, holy mercy there are archetypes.  There’s a beefy, blonde misogynistic dude, a sensitive “butter face” Guido, the long haired mystic, soulful, guy, the ass hole grown up frat boy turned mid management douche.  They have a manager coughpimpcough.  It’s all there for your consumption.

Now, this is some NC17 business, so I can now say I’ve seen a guy get painted up like a clown and fuck an older lady whose job is to plan children’s parties.  Ya know, because that’s what she paid for. 

Kids, this is some twisted shit and I was thoroughly amused.  Y’all know how I love men, and I’ve never gotten inside the head of a man who gets paid to have sex.  These guys are a treasure and this show is my new guilty pleasure.

So the moral of this story?  Watch out for crazy cat ladies, because they will get strung out on dicks for hire.  

loss and time

Recently two bloggers that I care for, that have shown me great kindness and support, have had to face the loss of a parent.   There are also a couple of long time regulars here who also had been initiated into this shitty club, and they too provided me with words of comfort when I most needed them.

What I want to say to our dear friends today is that you will survive the grief.  That when people tell you that it takes time, you are absolutely right to want to punch them in the face, but we are right in telling you anyway.  What else are we supposed to say?

I’m in a pretty decent place now.  My writing here is a big contributor to that.  I’m still not very good about talking about my feelings where all of this is concerned, but I am able to talk about her, tell stories, and experience memories, all things I couldn’t do for at least a year.  I don’t hide from my thoughts anymore.  I don’t hide from the moments of sadness that still wash over me at the most unexpected times. 

The relationship you have with your parents can somewhat dictate the type of grief you experience.  What I felt, they may not feel, what they feel I may not ever have personal knowledge of.  But the aching is universal.  And my heart aches for my friends, my brother, my step father, my kids. 

Four years have passed since I lost my mom.  Four years that simultaneously feel like a flash and a lifetime.  But I can absolutely say I am healing.  Maybe not quickly, maybe not enough, but in my own way.  And my friends, you will too. 

aggressively healthy

I am sure you've seen these floating by in your facebook on occasion.  I have, but somehow they didn't really register with me.  Yesterday, a friend posted one and I really stopped and read it.  And laughed my ass off.  And then I went and found the actual tumbler site and spent the next ten minutes nearly at a cackle.  Not only is it funny as fuck, the blog includes the recipes. 

I have a FOUL mouth. I have a terrible tendency to say something highly inappropriate in public places.  I could never pick my favorite curse word because that would be like picking a favorite child.  I love them all.  I also love healthy, easily prepared foods.  These little memes are like a dream come true for a girl like me.  

If you didn't already know, you're welcome.  You can like them on the facie too.  Do it, you know you want to.

All photos credited to ThugKitchen.com  - My new most favorite thing in life.