... this love of gardening. Here's the little guy with his paternal great-grandfather (age 88) and great-grandmother (age 85)....
Friday, July 31, 2009
Road trip! Road trip!
In a mere few days, i will be driving a good 700 miles for a 3 day vacation, including driving time. Am I crazy? Yes. Is it worth it to me? Yes.
Why?
Because all I've been writing about lately is the terrible twos and Bozo-related drama;
Because I miss sights like this:
And this:
And this:
And I also miss some good people who have been in my life for decades, who still check in on me, who will always be there with a good thought and a good laugh.
Totally worth it.
In preparation, I've made a list, and am checking it twice. The goal for take-off day is to have everything in my car at night and then pack baby in at 4 am, so he can sleep for about 3 or 4 more hours, then breakfast/break, and we'll get to our destination in 2 hours after that.
Coming back I'm going to leave after lunch, hoping he naps for 2-3 hours, breaking and then resting for a bit and then getting home in 3 hours.
We have just a day of being touristy, but that's enough for now, and I'm not too sure how Baby will be when he's away from his normal settings. When we've visited other people, he gets upset and says "gome" (aka "go home"). That's gonna be a toughie.
So, with a 2 year old in tow, off we go, with many adventures ahead to recount in the coming week. Northern California, here we come, right back where I started from.
Why?
Because all I've been writing about lately is the terrible twos and Bozo-related drama;
Because I miss sights like this:
And this:
And this:
And I also miss some good people who have been in my life for decades, who still check in on me, who will always be there with a good thought and a good laugh.
Totally worth it.
In preparation, I've made a list, and am checking it twice. The goal for take-off day is to have everything in my car at night and then pack baby in at 4 am, so he can sleep for about 3 or 4 more hours, then breakfast/break, and we'll get to our destination in 2 hours after that.
Coming back I'm going to leave after lunch, hoping he naps for 2-3 hours, breaking and then resting for a bit and then getting home in 3 hours.
We have just a day of being touristy, but that's enough for now, and I'm not too sure how Baby will be when he's away from his normal settings. When we've visited other people, he gets upset and says "gome" (aka "go home"). That's gonna be a toughie.
So, with a 2 year old in tow, off we go, with many adventures ahead to recount in the coming week. Northern California, here we come, right back where I started from.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Buh Bye to Me Time
It was 11:30 pm on a Monday night - my son, in the midst of a terrible 2's related tantrum was crying his eyes out because he wanted to watch his favorite Thomas DVD instead of going to sleep. I was sitting there on the couch, comforting him, telling him Thomas went nighty-night, thinking about all the things aroudn the house that I could forget about doing, and the uncut heads of lettuce I should just throw out by now ... and crying my eyes out, as well.
Consumed by his own tears and desire to watch his Thomas & Friends DVD one more time, he didn't notice I was crying into a handtowel from the bag of fresh laundry that I wouldn't put away for two more nights, but I still felt ashamed. Even before I was pregnant, I knew that I never wanted to be the type of parent who puts their emotions and fears on their kids. Crying happens, though.
This is a tough road I'm on. So very tough.
Although I have primary custody of Baby, I've considered myself lucky to have that alternate Sunday afternoon off. It's my precious few hours of alone time, where I'm not driving, not surrounded by annoying coworkers or relatives, and don't have any obligations to anyone.
Bozo's departure means that Me time is ancient history. I would be lying if were to say I wasn't a little angry about it, because I am ... I mean ... HELLO! Even though I've always known that Bozo is selfish, this just really sucks.
---
A couple days ago, we took Baby out for one last haircut and dinner before Bozo departs for New Mexico this Saturday. He hates having his hair cut, so they are few and far between and he was definitely overdue for one. Bozo needs to come along because there is no way I can handle our screaming, fighting son by myself.
Bozo was in another world, consumed with last minute things to do before he leaves. As we packed Baby in the car, he kissed baby and zoomed off in the black '91 BMW gifted to him by a friend. And then the tears started flowing.
This is it. It's happening. He's leaving. I'm officially assuming my duties as mother and father to this precious two-year old boy. Change is something that happens, you can't stop it as much as you might not want it to happen.
It was inevitable that he would leave at some point, and its a good thing that it's happening before Baby is old enough to realize what is happening.
The good news is, it is what it is. I'm dealing with it. I'm going to learn to adjust to it. I'm going to move forward. That's the only thing I can really do right now.
It's going to be okay.
Consumed by his own tears and desire to watch his Thomas & Friends DVD one more time, he didn't notice I was crying into a handtowel from the bag of fresh laundry that I wouldn't put away for two more nights, but I still felt ashamed. Even before I was pregnant, I knew that I never wanted to be the type of parent who puts their emotions and fears on their kids. Crying happens, though.
This is a tough road I'm on. So very tough.
Although I have primary custody of Baby, I've considered myself lucky to have that alternate Sunday afternoon off. It's my precious few hours of alone time, where I'm not driving, not surrounded by annoying coworkers or relatives, and don't have any obligations to anyone.
Bozo's departure means that Me time is ancient history. I would be lying if were to say I wasn't a little angry about it, because I am ... I mean ... HELLO! Even though I've always known that Bozo is selfish, this just really sucks.
---
A couple days ago, we took Baby out for one last haircut and dinner before Bozo departs for New Mexico this Saturday. He hates having his hair cut, so they are few and far between and he was definitely overdue for one. Bozo needs to come along because there is no way I can handle our screaming, fighting son by myself.
Bozo was in another world, consumed with last minute things to do before he leaves. As we packed Baby in the car, he kissed baby and zoomed off in the black '91 BMW gifted to him by a friend. And then the tears started flowing.
This is it. It's happening. He's leaving. I'm officially assuming my duties as mother and father to this precious two-year old boy. Change is something that happens, you can't stop it as much as you might not want it to happen.
It was inevitable that he would leave at some point, and its a good thing that it's happening before Baby is old enough to realize what is happening.
The good news is, it is what it is. I'm dealing with it. I'm going to learn to adjust to it. I'm going to move forward. That's the only thing I can really do right now.
It's going to be okay.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
How do they know?
While on a recent trip down memory lane, I looked at some video clips I'd taken of Baby when he was a newborn.
He was 3 weeks old and crying, and I think I took the video because of that - so I could remember what he was like when he'd grown up a little more, that was it. Looking at the clip, I realized he was crying because he didn't want the blanket on his feet.
Sounds ridiculous, but it's true ... he's squirming as hard as he can to get the blanket off, but he can't because ... well, he was 3 weeks old.
It's just amazing ... it really is. He still hates having blankets covering his feet.
Driving somewhere last week, I saw this sullen teenage boy in the front seat with his mom, probably on the way to the mall or something. He was just so ... sullen ... and I can't even think about my little guy ever being that way. But he probably will. 
He was 3 weeks old and crying, and I think I took the video because of that - so I could remember what he was like when he'd grown up a little more, that was it. Looking at the clip, I realized he was crying because he didn't want the blanket on his feet.
Sounds ridiculous, but it's true ... he's squirming as hard as he can to get the blanket off, but he can't because ... well, he was 3 weeks old.
It's just amazing ... it really is. He still hates having blankets covering his feet.
Driving somewhere last week, I saw this sullen teenage boy in the front seat with his mom, probably on the way to the mall or something. He was just so ... sullen ... and I can't even think about my little guy ever being that way. But he probably will.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
#singleparentingishardiwanttocry
When a gal of a certain age is plain old tired and in need of a good vent, there is only one place to turn. Twitter.
There, in an seanonymous world, I can pound out my woes with the hope that someone will respond with a caring response, and sometimes that's all it takes to turn a terrible-twos-related frown upside down.
My most recent breakdown involves worries over my non-eating and non-sleeping son, Bozo being a true bozo, and the realization that I am surrounded by people who are completely unaccountable for their ignorant actions. What I really want to do is pull out my hair. I need a secret booze stash.
It truly SUCKS to be in the middle of it all, especially as a single parent. ESPECIALLY when your clueless ex-husband is being cheered on by family and friends as he skips town, and no one is calling him out on the baloney you and few others clearly see.
Though I can't help but wish everyone would get a damn clue, now I feel silly for boo hooing over it.
The terrible twos, man ... totally gnarly.
There, in an seanonymous world, I can pound out my woes with the hope that someone will respond with a caring response, and sometimes that's all it takes to turn a terrible-twos-related frown upside down.
My most recent breakdown involves worries over my non-eating and non-sleeping son, Bozo being a true bozo, and the realization that I am surrounded by people who are completely unaccountable for their ignorant actions. What I really want to do is pull out my hair. I need a secret booze stash.
It truly SUCKS to be in the middle of it all, especially as a single parent. ESPECIALLY when your clueless ex-husband is being cheered on by family and friends as he skips town, and no one is calling him out on the baloney you and few others clearly see.
Though I can't help but wish everyone would get a damn clue, now I feel silly for boo hooing over it.
The terrible twos, man ... totally gnarly.
Monday, July 27, 2009
The right choice
Having used up my camera's memory card and needing to transfer stuff to my external hard drive before deleting other stuff, I took a look at some photos from about 2 years ago; Baby was in utero, just born, and some other fun stuff.
What an eye opener. I've purposely avoided looking at the old photos because it was a sad time, a trying time, and the evidence is right there before my eyes.
The first photo I saw was when I was newly pregnant, and still very skinny, having lost a lot of weight (a LOT) and not gaining weight during my first trimester. My only reaction to that stranger's face was pure shock. After daily intense workouts and being very strict with my food intake, I looked like a freaking Holocaust victim right before liberation. My eyes were happy, but ... geesh, I was one step away from skeleton-ville.
As eager as I am to lose weight, I don't want to be like that again ... sheesh. Scary.
Looking a little futher, when Baby was about 9 months old, I also realized I've come a long way and finally lost the stomach pooch, which is a good feeling. It all went to my ass, I think, but my weight workouts have really helped, I think.
Then, a little earlier, back to when Bozo and I were still living together, fighting like cats and dogs, and right before separating. There aren't a lot of photos of me with my child in general since I have to pay people money in order to make that happnen (no joke), but the ones that are still around make me so very sad. I was exhausted, sad, tired ... and Bozo should really be ashamed of himself for dragging me through the wringer like that.
Sad, but we all must move on ....
What an eye opener. I've purposely avoided looking at the old photos because it was a sad time, a trying time, and the evidence is right there before my eyes.
The first photo I saw was when I was newly pregnant, and still very skinny, having lost a lot of weight (a LOT) and not gaining weight during my first trimester. My only reaction to that stranger's face was pure shock. After daily intense workouts and being very strict with my food intake, I looked like a freaking Holocaust victim right before liberation. My eyes were happy, but ... geesh, I was one step away from skeleton-ville.
As eager as I am to lose weight, I don't want to be like that again ... sheesh. Scary.
Looking a little futher, when Baby was about 9 months old, I also realized I've come a long way and finally lost the stomach pooch, which is a good feeling. It all went to my ass, I think, but my weight workouts have really helped, I think.
Then, a little earlier, back to when Bozo and I were still living together, fighting like cats and dogs, and right before separating. There aren't a lot of photos of me with my child in general since I have to pay people money in order to make that happnen (no joke), but the ones that are still around make me so very sad. I was exhausted, sad, tired ... and Bozo should really be ashamed of himself for dragging me through the wringer like that.
Sad, but we all must move on ....
Sunday, July 26, 2009
It was ...
... in a word, spectacular. My day of being makeover and being given much love was just beyond anything I've ever experienced.
Yes, a full recap will come soon when I get the pics from my friends and Stila. I promise!
:)
Yes, a full recap will come soon when I get the pics from my friends and Stila. I promise!
:)
Dating: angels/devils ... food for thought
In order to be loved, you have to be loveable.
...
Thinking about my internet dating story from yesterday, I realized that when i was in the midst of trying to meet a man, I was like a needle in a hay stack ... completely lost to myself and to others. I didn't know what I wanted, I didn't even know what I liked and remember having the hardest time writing a profile and listing my interests.
In retrospect, I don't think I was seeking a love interest as much as I was seeking attention, to have someone praising me on a regular basis, which I think is the reason I was so frustrated with who I was meeting and why it was relatively easy for Bozo to trap me under his faux charms.
It's the law of attraction, and I now realize I couldn't expect to meet the right person if I wasn't the right person for myself.
My friend girl with a curl wrote this blog post about dating that is good food for thought:
An "I hate men" thread pops up frequently on the beauty board I belong to. Single women complain about how they can't find a good man and how they are giving up on dating.
Is it really harder for a woman to find a good man than vice versa? I guess it really depends on what side of the gender pool you are in. Yea, I've met a lot of jerky guys but I've also met alot of beyotches. But since I don't date women, I don't really think about the fact that these women are what men have to deal with.
Am I a good woman? I think so. I'm far from perfect though. I've made mistakes in my dating past that have contributed to the downfall of my relatiosnships - we all have. I think part of the process is accepting that you will never find a perfect person. The man (or woman) you wind up with will drive you nuts.
There are no angels and devils in dating. We shouldn't cast the opposite sex as some cast of driftless losers who have no manners, couth or brains. By doing that, we are setting ourselves up for disappointment and failure
So, how have my views changed now that I'm older and wiser and battle-scarred. Do I really know what AM I looking for? For certain I do know and embrace my passions. I also know that I need some one who is compatible with my sensibility, some one who is focused on living a positive life, some one who, even if they don't share my life's passions, can embrace them.
As for attention, yes, it would be great to get some of that, but it's not worth losing myself.
Years ago, I spoke to a professional matchmaker, and I jokingly commented: "There must be some crazy men out there!" Her response was classic: "The women aren't angels either."
...
Thinking about my internet dating story from yesterday, I realized that when i was in the midst of trying to meet a man, I was like a needle in a hay stack ... completely lost to myself and to others. I didn't know what I wanted, I didn't even know what I liked and remember having the hardest time writing a profile and listing my interests.
In retrospect, I don't think I was seeking a love interest as much as I was seeking attention, to have someone praising me on a regular basis, which I think is the reason I was so frustrated with who I was meeting and why it was relatively easy for Bozo to trap me under his faux charms.
It's the law of attraction, and I now realize I couldn't expect to meet the right person if I wasn't the right person for myself.
My friend girl with a curl wrote this blog post about dating that is good food for thought:
An "I hate men" thread pops up frequently on the beauty board I belong to. Single women complain about how they can't find a good man and how they are giving up on dating.
Is it really harder for a woman to find a good man than vice versa? I guess it really depends on what side of the gender pool you are in. Yea, I've met a lot of jerky guys but I've also met alot of beyotches. But since I don't date women, I don't really think about the fact that these women are what men have to deal with.
Am I a good woman? I think so. I'm far from perfect though. I've made mistakes in my dating past that have contributed to the downfall of my relatiosnships - we all have. I think part of the process is accepting that you will never find a perfect person. The man (or woman) you wind up with will drive you nuts.
There are no angels and devils in dating. We shouldn't cast the opposite sex as some cast of driftless losers who have no manners, couth or brains. By doing that, we are setting ourselves up for disappointment and failure
So, how have my views changed now that I'm older and wiser and battle-scarred. Do I really know what AM I looking for? For certain I do know and embrace my passions. I also know that I need some one who is compatible with my sensibility, some one who is focused on living a positive life, some one who, even if they don't share my life's passions, can embrace them.
As for attention, yes, it would be great to get some of that, but it's not worth losing myself.
Years ago, I spoke to a professional matchmaker, and I jokingly commented: "There must be some crazy men out there!" Her response was classic: "The women aren't angels either."
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Adventures of the internet dating variety
It's not that I'm ready for dating, but I've been taking trips down memory lane recently and remembering my crazy pre-Bozo dating history.
If there's one thing on this Earth that stymies me, it's how to go about meeting available and normal men. I can solve complex math problems, cook/clean/soothe a crying baby at the same time,recall extremely random trivia at a moments noice, but I really just don't know the answer to that one burning question.
Maybe I just choose to surround myself with unavailable men in my everyday life, I don't know. A while back, I read this article in a women's-interest magazine about places to meet men in Los Angeles. "Been there, nothing; been there, been there, uh, that's a gay club," I thought as I scanned the list. Maybe I just go places on the wrong nights???
It was in the early 2000's, all my friends were meeting people online, and I felt left out and needing to participate in the frenzy. There was another online matchmaking attempt earlier in my history, orchestrated by my mother, but that is not open for discussion! Ever!
Every date is practice for the real thing, a wise friend advised, and I threw myself into practing, meeting up for coffee with everyone who was local and expressed interest. Back then, my bullshit detector was undeveloped, due to a severe lack of attention, and found myself frequently mistaking crazy for caring, so you can imagine how those dates went.
There was the lawyer who had posted a picture of a himself as a handsome young man on his profile ... in every single email, he would go on for ever ranting about his one client. That in itself really should have told me something, but feeling like this was promising, I agreed to meet him at a restaurant, where I met someone who was decidedly older and portlier than his photo had let on, and even crazier than in his emails. That is FRAUD, people, just plain FRAUD! [Side note to people hoping to attract a partner: don't be mean or rude to the waitstaff at restaurants!]
In a similar vein, there was the pastry chef who contacted me on myspace with a profile picture of a very handsome dark haired man holding a glass of wine. In retrospect, I should have known better. So, after a few flirtatious emails, he said, "do you want to see what I really look like?" Yes, that is never a good sign.
It's not about his weight at all, but it's that a) he deliberately misrepresented himself, and b) it really didn't help that one of the photos he sent was of him standing next to a famous european male model.
Then, there was the Jesus-freak who went on and on and on about how his roomate dated 12 year old girls (yeah, I really wouldn't mention stuff like that on dates), a couple of failed set-ups by friends, and then as I was about to give up ... there was Bozo. Dun, dun, DUN.
If there's one thing on this Earth that stymies me, it's how to go about meeting available and normal men. I can solve complex math problems, cook/clean/soothe a crying baby at the same time,recall extremely random trivia at a moments noice, but I really just don't know the answer to that one burning question.
Maybe I just choose to surround myself with unavailable men in my everyday life, I don't know. A while back, I read this article in a women's-interest magazine about places to meet men in Los Angeles. "Been there, nothing; been there, been there, uh, that's a gay club," I thought as I scanned the list. Maybe I just go places on the wrong nights???
It was in the early 2000's, all my friends were meeting people online, and I felt left out and needing to participate in the frenzy. There was another online matchmaking attempt earlier in my history, orchestrated by my mother, but that is not open for discussion! Ever!
Every date is practice for the real thing, a wise friend advised, and I threw myself into practing, meeting up for coffee with everyone who was local and expressed interest. Back then, my bullshit detector was undeveloped, due to a severe lack of attention, and found myself frequently mistaking crazy for caring, so you can imagine how those dates went.
There was the lawyer who had posted a picture of a himself as a handsome young man on his profile ... in every single email, he would go on for ever ranting about his one client. That in itself really should have told me something, but feeling like this was promising, I agreed to meet him at a restaurant, where I met someone who was decidedly older and portlier than his photo had let on, and even crazier than in his emails. That is FRAUD, people, just plain FRAUD! [Side note to people hoping to attract a partner: don't be mean or rude to the waitstaff at restaurants!]
In a similar vein, there was the pastry chef who contacted me on myspace with a profile picture of a very handsome dark haired man holding a glass of wine. In retrospect, I should have known better. So, after a few flirtatious emails, he said, "do you want to see what I really look like?" Yes, that is never a good sign.
It's not about his weight at all, but it's that a) he deliberately misrepresented himself, and b) it really didn't help that one of the photos he sent was of him standing next to a famous european male model.
Then, there was the Jesus-freak who went on and on and on about how his roomate dated 12 year old girls (yeah, I really wouldn't mention stuff like that on dates), a couple of failed set-ups by friends, and then as I was about to give up ... there was Bozo. Dun, dun, DUN.
However, amongst all those frogs, there was one I'll never forget. He had a sweet face, kind eyes ... and was confined to a wheelchair. He had a handicap and although he seemed nice and normal enough, I didn't give him a second thought.... On a slightly different subject, my status as a single mom is my handicap. And that's ok with me.
As I've grown older, wiser and traveled more paths, I've come to a decision. Maybe I'm incredibly naive for thinking this and I'm willing to accept that ... but I trust that if I stay true to what I love and what interests me, at some point someone will come along who I click with. No more online dating for me. This schema works for me right now.
Ya know, the online dating stuff DOES make for incredibly good comedy material, so if I were to do it again, it would be solely for the purpose of getting good blog material. Don't think I'm not serious!
In the meanwhile, I have photos to take, stories to blog about, weights to lift, a son to cuddle and love. I wouldn't have it any other way.Thursday, July 23, 2009
Someone like him
He was our waiter in a little hole-in-the-wall Greek restaurant in the Westwood section of Los Angeles. Ethopian, Greek, and Iris, he was a true American .... Besides being tall and handsome, he had the most spectacular personality I've ever encountered in a man. Really and truly.
As we sat in that hole-in-the-wall place that serves delicious chicken lemon soup, I knew that I was already weary of mine and Bozo's newly wedded unbliss. I think we were both taken by the waiter's inner joy. He just sparkled: jubliant, self-assured, nice, kind, strong, with a firm handshake to boot ... everything Bozo wasn't.
The thing is ... I can totally see myself being with someone like him ... someone I'm excited to be with, someone who I would gladly accompany on adventures, someone who I can proudly call a good role model for my son.
In the following months and years I've gone back to the restaurant with high hopes, but have never seen him again. Maybe he was just too good to be true.
So, if anyone asks me what my type is ... I can only tell them it's someone just like him.
As we sat in that hole-in-the-wall place that serves delicious chicken lemon soup, I knew that I was already weary of mine and Bozo's newly wedded unbliss. I think we were both taken by the waiter's inner joy. He just sparkled: jubliant, self-assured, nice, kind, strong, with a firm handshake to boot ... everything Bozo wasn't.
The thing is ... I can totally see myself being with someone like him ... someone I'm excited to be with, someone who I would gladly accompany on adventures, someone who I can proudly call a good role model for my son.
In the following months and years I've gone back to the restaurant with high hopes, but have never seen him again. Maybe he was just too good to be true.
So, if anyone asks me what my type is ... I can only tell them it's someone just like him.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
No, I don't work in the adult industry ...
... but sure felt like it yesterday, when my duties involved me writing about 3 separate products with the following word sequences in their descriptions:
Product 1: ... oh so wet ....
Product 2: ... styling the hair, down there ....
Product 3: ... orgasm .....
Dear, Lord. The things you have to do to earn a buck!
Product 1: ... oh so wet ....
Product 2: ... styling the hair, down there ....
Product 3: ... orgasm .....
Dear, Lord. The things you have to do to earn a buck!
That's what friends are for ...
If there's one thing besides Baby that I am extremely thankful for, it is that I've met and become friends with so many wonderful people through the years.
Many I've known for decades, some only recently, and some I haven't even met in person. In times of need, I can always count on a helping hand, a waiting shoulder (virtual or real), a kind or funny word when necessary.
During an IM chat with my most-faithful-blog-reader, we were discussing life and work and home and he totally pinpointed something I've been puzzled by for a very long time.
Why, I asked him, are certain people in my life just NOT NICE.
They're untouchable, he said. No one can ever tell them they're doing right or wrong.
Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!
That's exactly it ... what I'm starting to see is that it's a control thing, at the heart of it, and their actions don't necessarily mirror reality. It's the unfortunate truth, but one that I have to live with for the time being.
Six months away ... that's the feeling I'm getting. Just soldier on for six more months, and it's all going to turn out for the better. In the meanwhile, I really do need to work on my views of them, to look at them in a different light, and really, just not take anything personally.
In moments of self-doubt, I have to remember that 2 coworkers recently sought out my opinion for articles coming out in the next couple of months. They didn't go to Google, they came to me, and that is a helluva good feeling.
Many I've known for decades, some only recently, and some I haven't even met in person. In times of need, I can always count on a helping hand, a waiting shoulder (virtual or real), a kind or funny word when necessary.
During an IM chat with my most-faithful-blog-reader, we were discussing life and work and home and he totally pinpointed something I've been puzzled by for a very long time.
Why, I asked him, are certain people in my life just NOT NICE.
They're untouchable, he said. No one can ever tell them they're doing right or wrong.
Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!
That's exactly it ... what I'm starting to see is that it's a control thing, at the heart of it, and their actions don't necessarily mirror reality. It's the unfortunate truth, but one that I have to live with for the time being.
Six months away ... that's the feeling I'm getting. Just soldier on for six more months, and it's all going to turn out for the better. In the meanwhile, I really do need to work on my views of them, to look at them in a different light, and really, just not take anything personally.
In moments of self-doubt, I have to remember that 2 coworkers recently sought out my opinion for articles coming out in the next couple of months. They didn't go to Google, they came to me, and that is a helluva good feeling.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Chicago
Back when I was in high school, going through my shunning of modern music/embracing Broadway musicals phase, there was one Judy Garland song I favorited while recording my singing into my dad's old dictaphone. In fact, I still sing it today when I'm subjecting my son to my glorious voice.
"On state street
that great street,
I just wanna stay,
I just wanna stay;
"They do things
They don't do on Broadway
Say
Don't tell me sin is rampant and rife
I saw a man dancing with his own wife
"In Chicago
Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiicaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagooooooo [Ed. note: you really have to throw your whole body into this part]
Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaago
Chi-caaaaa-go
Free and easy town
Classy breezy town
Chi-ca-go
Chi-caAa-go
Let me cool my heels right down in Marshall Fields...."
Funny thing about this song is that I was singing it pre-internet days and only much later realized I was singing half the lyrics wrong. Isn't it funny how that works? That's one good thing about the internet - it reduces so much song lyric confusion!
....
I was obsessed with a song about Chicago, and then happened to apply for a retail training position in Chicago (of all places) for Sears after my college graduation, when everything was talking about applying for one of the "Big Six" consulting firms and having things lined up. I had nothing lined up and all the jobs I was interviewing for at the university career center were basically sales jobs in insurance and mutual funds. Not my cup of tea.
A few weeks after graduation I was working at a temp job near my hometown, and still on the prowl for something more to my liking when I got the call that I'd made the Sears cut and they were sending me tickets for an interview.
"It's cold," they told me, but it seemed like a good opportunity and so I said yes, feeling a bit of reluctance in my heart but willing to make a risk.
It must not have meant to be because a week before I was to travel, I went to a seminar with my boss from the temp job and got into the car accident that broke my right hip and ankle and rendered me confined to a wheel-chair for months.
It was a lost opportunity, and I do wonder how my life would have been different if I'd been accepted into the program, if I'd moved to the Midwest. Would there have been another Bozo, another Baby?
Some things ... are inexplicable.
[Ed. note: looking at Judy in this video is a little painful! Poor thing!]
"On state street
that great street,
I just wanna stay,
I just wanna stay;
"They do things
They don't do on Broadway
Say
Don't tell me sin is rampant and rife
I saw a man dancing with his own wife
"In Chicago
Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiicaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagooooooo [Ed. note: you really have to throw your whole body into this part]
Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaago
Chi-caaaaa-go
Free and easy town
Classy breezy town
Chi-ca-go
Chi-caAa-go
Let me cool my heels right down in Marshall Fields...."
Funny thing about this song is that I was singing it pre-internet days and only much later realized I was singing half the lyrics wrong. Isn't it funny how that works? That's one good thing about the internet - it reduces so much song lyric confusion!
....
I was obsessed with a song about Chicago, and then happened to apply for a retail training position in Chicago (of all places) for Sears after my college graduation, when everything was talking about applying for one of the "Big Six" consulting firms and having things lined up. I had nothing lined up and all the jobs I was interviewing for at the university career center were basically sales jobs in insurance and mutual funds. Not my cup of tea.
A few weeks after graduation I was working at a temp job near my hometown, and still on the prowl for something more to my liking when I got the call that I'd made the Sears cut and they were sending me tickets for an interview.
"It's cold," they told me, but it seemed like a good opportunity and so I said yes, feeling a bit of reluctance in my heart but willing to make a risk.
It must not have meant to be because a week before I was to travel, I went to a seminar with my boss from the temp job and got into the car accident that broke my right hip and ankle and rendered me confined to a wheel-chair for months.
It was a lost opportunity, and I do wonder how my life would have been different if I'd been accepted into the program, if I'd moved to the Midwest. Would there have been another Bozo, another Baby?
Some things ... are inexplicable.
[Ed. note: looking at Judy in this video is a little painful! Poor thing!]
Monday, July 20, 2009
Welcome to the terrible twos
I am having a hard time understanding how this was merely two years ago (well, almost), and this sweet little angel became ...
This cute but toilet paper destroying, dangerous furniture climbing, demanding, bossy little boy.
Yes, even though he turns two next month, we're fully in the terrible twos, complete with tantrums, tears, screams, and all those things you hear parents complain about but SWEAR won't happen to you own child.
My mom has been calling him "donkey fart" in her language a lot lately. Yes, the term she uses is kind of an endearment, but one that you call a child if they're annoying you.
As a single parent, it's even more of a challenge, but what I know and what helps maintain the sanity I have left is knowing that this is all part of the growing process. He's asserting the independence he just figured out he has ... so when he hands me a broom and demands I sweep, I just go along with it. We call it "Clean Clean" and a lot of cleaning gets done under his supervision. He also watches over me when I'm using the bathroom, giving me dirty looks if I take too long, and making sure I wash and dry my hands.
What a donkey fart.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Join me
... in a positivity exercise.
As a person who often struggles to move past non-positive situations, I've found that visualization often works wonders ... when we believe in ourselves and our dreams, magic happens.
So, please take some time in the near future and indulge in some positive thoughts ... because I really think that our collective good energy will make miracles happen.
I deserve ...
I'm worthy of ...
I see .... in my life in the near future.
In the next week, I will ... (for myself).
In the next week, I will ... (for someone else).
---
For the record, here are my answers:
I deserve a job I am well compensated for and coworkers that I am excited to work with, learn from, and who truly appreciate my work.
I'm worthy of goodness in my life.
I see a new apartment and a good preschool for Baby in my life in the near future.
In the next week, I will finish a chunk of school work and send out 5 resumes.
In the next week, I will write a random note to a friend who has always supported me.
As a person who often struggles to move past non-positive situations, I've found that visualization often works wonders ... when we believe in ourselves and our dreams, magic happens.
So, please take some time in the near future and indulge in some positive thoughts ... because I really think that our collective good energy will make miracles happen.
I deserve ...
I'm worthy of ...
I see .... in my life in the near future.
In the next week, I will ... (for myself).
In the next week, I will ... (for someone else).
---
For the record, here are my answers:
I deserve a job I am well compensated for and coworkers that I am excited to work with, learn from, and who truly appreciate my work.
I'm worthy of goodness in my life.
I see a new apartment and a good preschool for Baby in my life in the near future.
In the next week, I will finish a chunk of school work and send out 5 resumes.
In the next week, I will write a random note to a friend who has always supported me.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Lately ...
... I've been thinking about people stuck in unhappiness.
Those people working at the post office who you know are dying in the inside?
The people in foreign countries stuck in poverty and misery?
...
What do I have that they don't have?
The people who will never rise up because they don't know any better, and yet may or may not know that things are unfair?
Will they ever get a chance?
Those people working at the post office who you know are dying in the inside?
The people in foreign countries stuck in poverty and misery?
...
What do I have that they don't have?
The people who will never rise up because they don't know any better, and yet may or may not know that things are unfair?
Will they ever get a chance?
Friday, July 17, 2009
Time to be not so Anon?
Lately I've been giving some consideration to coming out of my "anonymous" shell.
One thing about me and this blog is that it's not very difficult to find out who I am if someone was curious - I post on various forums with my real name and link back to this site. One of the benefits of being relatively anon is that I can vent away about coworkers/family members who irritate and annoy me. I mean, it's a great benefit, and that's what has held me back for so long.
There are other bloggers, like Dooce, who have long-warned about posting anything work-related, and for good reason. Sure, I think certain people in my life are silly poo poo heads, but I don't think it would behoove them to see themselves called out in public, as I sometimes do.
So, if I lose my Anon status, I lose venting abilities, and even though I have dramatically slowed that down, on purpose mind you, a big part of the reason I started blogging was to be able to vent somewhere. In real life, that is just not possible, ya know?
BUT, as a result of the contest I won and will be taped for, I'm going to be publicized everywhere online, on blogs, on forums, on websites.
As far as Bozo is concerned, I'm not worried about him finding out and if he did, I don't think he would care much. If anyone were to find out it would be one of our mutual friends and it would lead to a series of "why" questions -- why do you feel that way? Why do you say that? Why do you think that" -- and that's a can of worms I'm not eager to open.
Staying under the Anon shell for just a little while longer sounds appealing to me.
One thing about me and this blog is that it's not very difficult to find out who I am if someone was curious - I post on various forums with my real name and link back to this site. One of the benefits of being relatively anon is that I can vent away about coworkers/family members who irritate and annoy me. I mean, it's a great benefit, and that's what has held me back for so long.
There are other bloggers, like Dooce, who have long-warned about posting anything work-related, and for good reason. Sure, I think certain people in my life are silly poo poo heads, but I don't think it would behoove them to see themselves called out in public, as I sometimes do.
So, if I lose my Anon status, I lose venting abilities, and even though I have dramatically slowed that down, on purpose mind you, a big part of the reason I started blogging was to be able to vent somewhere. In real life, that is just not possible, ya know?
BUT, as a result of the contest I won and will be taped for, I'm going to be publicized everywhere online, on blogs, on forums, on websites.
As far as Bozo is concerned, I'm not worried about him finding out and if he did, I don't think he would care much. If anyone were to find out it would be one of our mutual friends and it would lead to a series of "why" questions -- why do you feel that way? Why do you say that? Why do you think that" -- and that's a can of worms I'm not eager to open.
Staying under the Anon shell for just a little while longer sounds appealing to me.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Karma, Karma, Karma
Wow, something is in the air, some planet is in retrograde, or there is an eclipse happening, because in the last few days, I've seen more karmic revenge than ever before. And it's all happening at once.
CRAZY.
Just nuts and a general observation to behave well, to not say bad things about people, and to follow the golden rule - treat people the way you want to be treated!!!!!!!!!!
CRAZY.
Just nuts and a general observation to behave well, to not say bad things about people, and to follow the golden rule - treat people the way you want to be treated!!!!!!!!!!
Talking it out
It was a month before Baby was born and I was on the hunt for a mental health professional.
"I'm 8 months pregnant and my husband isn't being very supportive - mentally or financially - and I need to learn some coping strategies," I would state to every name I'd meticulously researched.
Finding a mental health professional with openings is harder than you'd think. Everyone I contacted either didn't take my insurance (even though it said they did online), or was totally booked.
It was entirely frustrating - there I was, getting ready to pop, trying so hard to make whatever I had going on with Bozo work, making myself accept that fact that it was me and not him, and trying to do things in a positive direction.
Only one psychologist was available, and even in the initial phone calls I hated her bedside manner -- she was a pushover, and whatver I would say to her she would only say "ok". I ended up having Baby before I could see her, and from then on the subject of seeing a psychologist was dropped.
It's now exactly two years later, and Bozo's impending out-of-state permanent departure has made me realize that I really do need to find a mental health professional to talk to. In a lot of ways, like his mother, I am in denial about the reality of it -- "hah, he'll be back," I say to myself. The reality is -- that might not be the case.
In a lot of ways, I am extremely pissed off about it, and that goes back to when we were married and I was BEGGING him to find work. BEGGING. He had so many opportunities he threw away, all with the excuse that they were too far away and he didn't want to be parted from me and Baby. The ease with which he's now going to pursue yet another degree (to add to the collection of ones he's never finished) STINGS.
Although I consider Bozo's mom one of my dearest friends, the fact that she supports him in his foolery also stings quite a bit. This is a 36 year old man we're talking about.
The blood that's boiling in me right now as I even type this has me even more convinced I need to find someone to talk to. I'm not ok with all of this and can't imagine how everyone else IS.
In the last few weekends, I've been encouraging Bozo to spend more time with his son - I mean, he's not even going to be around for Baby's birthday, so lets make the few hours he spends with Baby every week count.
We went to a festival on Sunday and it was an exercise in complete frustration. I would have been better off banging my head against a wall for 2 hours.
Someone at work asked how everything was going with me, and I was quoting some lines from Sunday:
"Mama, I spilled Pop Tarts all over my shorts."
"Mama, I can't wear these shorts. Can you wash them for me?"
"Mama, I need to change into jeans."
"Mama, I don't have the right shoes to wear with my jeans."
Was that Baby saying all that, my coworkers asked?
No, that was my Baby's Daddy.
Aargh. In the space between birthing and divorcing and right now, I've found the name of some people who focus on broken families and raising children as a single parent. I have about a zillion questions going through my head -- how do I explain this, how will I do that?
I have some phone calls to make.
"I'm 8 months pregnant and my husband isn't being very supportive - mentally or financially - and I need to learn some coping strategies," I would state to every name I'd meticulously researched.
Finding a mental health professional with openings is harder than you'd think. Everyone I contacted either didn't take my insurance (even though it said they did online), or was totally booked.
It was entirely frustrating - there I was, getting ready to pop, trying so hard to make whatever I had going on with Bozo work, making myself accept that fact that it was me and not him, and trying to do things in a positive direction.
Only one psychologist was available, and even in the initial phone calls I hated her bedside manner -- she was a pushover, and whatver I would say to her she would only say "ok". I ended up having Baby before I could see her, and from then on the subject of seeing a psychologist was dropped.
It's now exactly two years later, and Bozo's impending out-of-state permanent departure has made me realize that I really do need to find a mental health professional to talk to. In a lot of ways, like his mother, I am in denial about the reality of it -- "hah, he'll be back," I say to myself. The reality is -- that might not be the case.
In a lot of ways, I am extremely pissed off about it, and that goes back to when we were married and I was BEGGING him to find work. BEGGING. He had so many opportunities he threw away, all with the excuse that they were too far away and he didn't want to be parted from me and Baby. The ease with which he's now going to pursue yet another degree (to add to the collection of ones he's never finished) STINGS.
Although I consider Bozo's mom one of my dearest friends, the fact that she supports him in his foolery also stings quite a bit. This is a 36 year old man we're talking about.
The blood that's boiling in me right now as I even type this has me even more convinced I need to find someone to talk to. I'm not ok with all of this and can't imagine how everyone else IS.
In the last few weekends, I've been encouraging Bozo to spend more time with his son - I mean, he's not even going to be around for Baby's birthday, so lets make the few hours he spends with Baby every week count.
We went to a festival on Sunday and it was an exercise in complete frustration. I would have been better off banging my head against a wall for 2 hours.
Someone at work asked how everything was going with me, and I was quoting some lines from Sunday:
"Mama, I spilled Pop Tarts all over my shorts."
"Mama, I can't wear these shorts. Can you wash them for me?"
"Mama, I need to change into jeans."
"Mama, I don't have the right shoes to wear with my jeans."
Was that Baby saying all that, my coworkers asked?
No, that was my Baby's Daddy.
Aargh. In the space between birthing and divorcing and right now, I've found the name of some people who focus on broken families and raising children as a single parent. I have about a zillion questions going through my head -- how do I explain this, how will I do that?
I have some phone calls to make.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
To the people who are raining on my parade
Like any good online junkie, I immediately posted news of my upcoming makeover and appearance on Facebook, Twitter, and a couple of message boards. It was truly like winning the Golden Ticket, like Charlie from "Willy Wonka" and I'm still feeling the thrill of it all a couple days later.
This is one of my dreams come true.
Growing up feeling lonely, gawky and awkward and watching too many episodes of Oprah and Sally Jesse Raphael, I always dreamed of being on one of those makeover shows. Heck, I always dreamed about being on some kind of show anywhere.
So, what responses do I get? How about what seems like a zillion people saying: "Why do you need a makeover?"
True, I know my way around a cosmetics counter and am pretty well-preserved for a thirty-something (besides the junk in the trunk, obviously), but more than the makeup, it's about finally being acknowledged, finally getting my chance to shine in the spotlight.
I've been behind the scenes for far too long: in my marriage, Bozo was the star of the show. At work, I'm routinely ignored. On a couple of message boards I frequent, I've stopped posting so much because my voice gets drowned out. As a single mom, I've put my selfish needs aside. In many ways, I just don't know who I am anymore.
Yes, the makeup will be so much fun and pretty and cool, but it's not about the makeover, it's not about the makeup, it's about the affirmation and the self-esteem boost I so, so, so desperately need right now.
It's my good, and I do believe that I deserve my good, and possibly even more so when all is said and done.
This is one of my dreams come true.
Growing up feeling lonely, gawky and awkward and watching too many episodes of Oprah and Sally Jesse Raphael, I always dreamed of being on one of those makeover shows. Heck, I always dreamed about being on some kind of show anywhere.
So, what responses do I get? How about what seems like a zillion people saying: "Why do you need a makeover?"
True, I know my way around a cosmetics counter and am pretty well-preserved for a thirty-something (besides the junk in the trunk, obviously), but more than the makeup, it's about finally being acknowledged, finally getting my chance to shine in the spotlight.
I've been behind the scenes for far too long: in my marriage, Bozo was the star of the show. At work, I'm routinely ignored. On a couple of message boards I frequent, I've stopped posting so much because my voice gets drowned out. As a single mom, I've put my selfish needs aside. In many ways, I just don't know who I am anymore.
Yes, the makeup will be so much fun and pretty and cool, but it's not about the makeover, it's not about the makeup, it's about the affirmation and the self-esteem boost I so, so, so desperately need right now.
It's my good, and I do believe that I deserve my good, and possibly even more so when all is said and done.
Monday, July 13, 2009
The Kathie Lee Gifford of the Facebook World
It's no secret that one of my favorite pastimes is taking photos of my almost-2 year old son. I mean, look at him and the adventures he gets into ... totally adorable!
It's also no secret that I don't have much of a social life beyond work, family, and my online communities. Between my single parents, beauty blingers, and celebrity gossip friends, I have all my needs met pretty much, and they keep me entertained.
So, it's only natural that I will announce Baby's antics to my friends on Facebook and Twitter, right? Well, I guess there's only so much info you should give out online, because otherwise you'll run into people in real life and they'll ask how your son's bowel movements are these days, or how his sleeping habits are going.
Geesh.
Guily of oversharing. Yep, that's me.
Sorry for making fun of you all those years, Kathie Lee Gifford.
It's also no secret that I don't have much of a social life beyond work, family, and my online communities. Between my single parents, beauty blingers, and celebrity gossip friends, I have all my needs met pretty much, and they keep me entertained.
So, it's only natural that I will announce Baby's antics to my friends on Facebook and Twitter, right? Well, I guess there's only so much info you should give out online, because otherwise you'll run into people in real life and they'll ask how your son's bowel movements are these days, or how his sleeping habits are going.
Geesh.
Guily of oversharing. Yep, that's me.
Sorry for making fun of you all those years, Kathie Lee Gifford.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Another good love story
I love nothing better than love stories.
It was my last job as a freelance makeup artist -- I was newly pregnant, starting to feeling the woes of the first timester, and certain that after this job, I was ready to retire my makeup brushes.
Complicated how we met, but the bride was a friend of a friend who is actually the wife of one of Bozo's friend. I'd heard of her and her story before, and we first met at the birthday party of Bozo's friend's child.
The bride was bright-eyed, newly engaged, and full of love for her handsome Brazilian fiancee, who was equally bright-eyed and love-full.
Her story is one of those improbable ones ... something you'd read in a book or see at the movies, but it really happened. Born in Southern California, she was filled with wanderlust from an early age, one that led her to the Middle East where she felt the call to Islam. Although it was quite supsicious for a white woman to convert to this religion post-9/11, she knew with her entire being that it was meant to happen, and ended up becoming a media darling, sought after for her unique perspective and experience.
Shortly after her conversion, she married a fellow she met at her mosque and settled in to what she believed would be a typical and dutiful marriage that turned out to be anything but. After enduring various kinds of abuse, she took the brave step of divorcing her first abusive husband while remaining devoted to her faith.
As a single Muslim woman, she threw herself into her passions - religion, teaching, traveling - always a new adventure on the horizon. On one solo trip to Argentina, she decided to take a short ski tripwhere she started chatting with a guy from Brazil, where they hit it off very well until it was his time to leave. They didn't exchange information, but only briefly gave each other an overview of their traveling plans, telling him that she would be going on a boat ride in a few days. They parted ways, and she went on her boat trip, where she spent time with some giggling girls talking about Brazilian men ....
Her Brazilian friend couldn't get the spunky American gal out of his mind. He didn't have her phone number, but he knew she was going to get on a boat to get to another destination at a specific day and time. Although he didn't know what boat she would be getting on, he took a taxi ride, a bus ride, and walked to the ports where he took a chance and got on board an unknown boat. And his bright-eyed American friend was there.
They exchanged information, visited each other, and love grew. He converted to Islam, and they married in the mosque connected to the school she directed. Their love for each other was so powerful, their drive to be with each other was so intense that they made the impossible happen.
Now, they live in Brazil, she's expecting their first child, and she's pursuing a career in interior design. The photos she's posted of their home on Facebook show that it's definitely a great career move for her and her happiness is undoubtable.
So there you have it - the story of a woman who pursued her passions with every fiber of her being, and that of a man who literally took chance in his hands because he knew in his heart that he'd found his life's treasure.
Love happens ... sometimes when you least expect it. It really does happen that way.
It was my last job as a freelance makeup artist -- I was newly pregnant, starting to feeling the woes of the first timester, and certain that after this job, I was ready to retire my makeup brushes.
Complicated how we met, but the bride was a friend of a friend who is actually the wife of one of Bozo's friend. I'd heard of her and her story before, and we first met at the birthday party of Bozo's friend's child.
The bride was bright-eyed, newly engaged, and full of love for her handsome Brazilian fiancee, who was equally bright-eyed and love-full.
Her story is one of those improbable ones ... something you'd read in a book or see at the movies, but it really happened. Born in Southern California, she was filled with wanderlust from an early age, one that led her to the Middle East where she felt the call to Islam. Although it was quite supsicious for a white woman to convert to this religion post-9/11, she knew with her entire being that it was meant to happen, and ended up becoming a media darling, sought after for her unique perspective and experience.
Shortly after her conversion, she married a fellow she met at her mosque and settled in to what she believed would be a typical and dutiful marriage that turned out to be anything but. After enduring various kinds of abuse, she took the brave step of divorcing her first abusive husband while remaining devoted to her faith.
As a single Muslim woman, she threw herself into her passions - religion, teaching, traveling - always a new adventure on the horizon. On one solo trip to Argentina, she decided to take a short ski tripwhere she started chatting with a guy from Brazil, where they hit it off very well until it was his time to leave. They didn't exchange information, but only briefly gave each other an overview of their traveling plans, telling him that she would be going on a boat ride in a few days. They parted ways, and she went on her boat trip, where she spent time with some giggling girls talking about Brazilian men ....
Her Brazilian friend couldn't get the spunky American gal out of his mind. He didn't have her phone number, but he knew she was going to get on a boat to get to another destination at a specific day and time. Although he didn't know what boat she would be getting on, he took a taxi ride, a bus ride, and walked to the ports where he took a chance and got on board an unknown boat. And his bright-eyed American friend was there.
They exchanged information, visited each other, and love grew. He converted to Islam, and they married in the mosque connected to the school she directed. Their love for each other was so powerful, their drive to be with each other was so intense that they made the impossible happen.
Now, they live in Brazil, she's expecting their first child, and she's pursuing a career in interior design. The photos she's posted of their home on Facebook show that it's definitely a great career move for her and her happiness is undoubtable.
So there you have it - the story of a woman who pursued her passions with every fiber of her being, and that of a man who literally took chance in his hands because he knew in his heart that he'd found his life's treasure.
Love happens ... sometimes when you least expect it. It really does happen that way.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
How I went from :\ to !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Earlier this week, I had written and scheduled this blog:
Honesty
To be completely honest, lately I've been attacked by a case of the self-doubts.
While I do intrinsically believe that everything eventually works out for the best, it's the lapse in time inbetween now and then that's causing some concern.
How much longer? Can I keep going like this? Is there hope?
There has to be hope.
But, how long can one survive on faith alone?
Maybe all you can expect to survive on is faith.
I need a sign. Seems like a lot to ask for, but I do ... please, Universe, send me a sign that hope exists.
A few hours after writing this, I received two signs which might sound weird to you, but just hear me out. I went to look through an office supply catalog for a self-inking stamp. I found a sample that had my first name and radio man's last name. Not saying I'm still hung up on radio man, but still ... that kind of blew me over. A few pages later, a stamp with my exact birth date.
Signs, I'm telling you, signs.
This past work week was rough,rough, rough. By the time the work week was done, I was at a particularly low point and so ready for the weekend. Driving towards the freeway, I received a mystery call and a following voice mail informing me that something amazing had just happened.
A few weeks ago, while perusing my blogs, I came upon this contest ... nominate someone you know, or yourself, for a makeover tv show. In need of a new beginning and new exterior to go with my new life, and figuring I had nothing to lose, I sent in my nomination, was honest about my size, and included a couple of casual pictures.
The call was from the company's headquarters ... in the voicemail, a large group was cheering for me. They loved my story, and was I still interested?
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I pulled over, and then I did the dance of joy.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am so excited.
Honesty
To be completely honest, lately I've been attacked by a case of the self-doubts.
While I do intrinsically believe that everything eventually works out for the best, it's the lapse in time inbetween now and then that's causing some concern.
How much longer? Can I keep going like this? Is there hope?
There has to be hope.
But, how long can one survive on faith alone?
Maybe all you can expect to survive on is faith.
I need a sign. Seems like a lot to ask for, but I do ... please, Universe, send me a sign that hope exists.
A few hours after writing this, I received two signs which might sound weird to you, but just hear me out. I went to look through an office supply catalog for a self-inking stamp. I found a sample that had my first name and radio man's last name. Not saying I'm still hung up on radio man, but still ... that kind of blew me over. A few pages later, a stamp with my exact birth date.
Signs, I'm telling you, signs.
This past work week was rough,rough, rough. By the time the work week was done, I was at a particularly low point and so ready for the weekend. Driving towards the freeway, I received a mystery call and a following voice mail informing me that something amazing had just happened.
A few weeks ago, while perusing my blogs, I came upon this contest ... nominate someone you know, or yourself, for a makeover tv show. In need of a new beginning and new exterior to go with my new life, and figuring I had nothing to lose, I sent in my nomination, was honest about my size, and included a couple of casual pictures.
The call was from the company's headquarters ... in the voicemail, a large group was cheering for me. They loved my story, and was I still interested?
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I pulled over, and then I did the dance of joy.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am so excited.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Every once in a while ...
... Bozo is struck in a romantic mood and sends me flowery text messages, emails filled with cutesiness that I might have fallen for about 4 years ago.
Do you know what I think about that? I think you do.
Shove it up your big wazoo, Bozo!
Do you know what I think about that? I think you do.
Shove it up your big wazoo, Bozo!
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Trying to make changes around here
It's time, people, it's time, and while I'm working on some other doo dads to fancy up the place, "accessorize it up", here's a respite from the blahs.
Sure, my header is off center, but so am I. I kind of like it that way. :)
Sure, my header is off center, but so am I. I kind of like it that way. :)
A good story
Last Saturday, while Baby and I were strolling along the dioramas of stuffed animals at the Natural History Museum, I looked down to see two little girls chasing after each other, familiar little girls to me.
I quickly ID'd them as the daughters of one of my Facebook friends, a coworker from when I first moved to Southern California and was working for Smack Cosmetics in North Orange County. What a surprise - I haven't seen her in years, although we've kept in touch over MySpace and Facebook and I knew she had another daughter shortly after Baby was born.
Back when I first met her I was 24, she was 21 and a single mom to her then 18-month old daughter,struggling to get along in life, as we so often are. The concept of her lifestyle was foreign to me at the time. Funny, huh? She had married her father's child after her birth, who promptly abandoned them and refused to have any part in his daughter's life, impregnating someone else shortly afterwards, and also refusing to divorce his wife. A real winner.
My co-worker lived with her parents, pursued her passion of makeup artistry, had an unrequited love, and did things her way. At first glance, her tattoos, piercings, and stretched earlobes are a little offputting, but behind those adornments lies a heart of gold belonging to a person who overcame a hard youth to live a straightedge, vegan, church-going life.
We said hello, chatted for a bit, then parted ways until I saw them on another level. She didn't see me watching them from a few feet away as she talked to her youngest daughter. Time hasn't changed the fact that she is an amazing, caring, nurturing mother, and the smiles on her kid's faces is proof positive of that fact.
Her man is a good person - he'll never leave her, some things you can just tell.
This happy part of her life? It's making me feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy inside.
One thing I know for sure is this: there is grace beyond the stormiest nights, and I see reminders of this constantly. Believe it -- I sure do.
I quickly ID'd them as the daughters of one of my Facebook friends, a coworker from when I first moved to Southern California and was working for Smack Cosmetics in North Orange County. What a surprise - I haven't seen her in years, although we've kept in touch over MySpace and Facebook and I knew she had another daughter shortly after Baby was born.
Back when I first met her I was 24, she was 21 and a single mom to her then 18-month old daughter,struggling to get along in life, as we so often are. The concept of her lifestyle was foreign to me at the time. Funny, huh? She had married her father's child after her birth, who promptly abandoned them and refused to have any part in his daughter's life, impregnating someone else shortly afterwards, and also refusing to divorce his wife. A real winner.
My co-worker lived with her parents, pursued her passion of makeup artistry, had an unrequited love, and did things her way. At first glance, her tattoos, piercings, and stretched earlobes are a little offputting, but behind those adornments lies a heart of gold belonging to a person who overcame a hard youth to live a straightedge, vegan, church-going life.
We said hello, chatted for a bit, then parted ways until I saw them on another level. She didn't see me watching them from a few feet away as she talked to her youngest daughter. Time hasn't changed the fact that she is an amazing, caring, nurturing mother, and the smiles on her kid's faces is proof positive of that fact.
Her man is a good person - he'll never leave her, some things you can just tell.
This happy part of her life? It's making me feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy inside.
One thing I know for sure is this: there is grace beyond the stormiest nights, and I see reminders of this constantly. Believe it -- I sure do.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Meep
Well, I realized I have to simma down about certain things here when a co-worker came up to me and asked for the identity of my secret work crush.
((Blush))
Hee hee ....
((Blush))
Hee hee ....
Another FYI
It's hard to work for someone who tells you to communicate more when they barely communicate with you. Just saying.
In the end ...
The last few nights I've been moonlighting as a nightclub singer.
Oh, really, you ask? Yes, a nightclub singer Chez Anonmom, where my almost-two year old demands song after song after song for a good hour before naptime. Near the end of the hour, I start to doze off in bed, but he wakes me up demanding more, more, more!
I guess I do have a good singing voice after all. Thanks for the validation, son.
The song is one I adapted from Bozo, who has a tendency to makeup songs and sing them, along with a repotoire of songs from the Adult Swim channel. They always used to annoy me, but after trial and error, I found that they work wonders when I need to change Baby's diaper, or put him into his car seat, both of which require a Herculean amount of effort. Such a small being, such a bundle of energy.
What I've realized is that we all leave relationships with memories, souveniers both good and bad. Althought I've listed the bad things from mine and Bozo's marriage numerous times, there are also many good things I learned from him and have to give him credit for - not only the silly songs that calm my kid down, but he also taught me how to parellel park, and living in an urban setting, I will always be greatful for that.
He also did one very good thing -- without him, memories like this wouldn't be possible.
Thanks, Bozo.
Oh, really, you ask? Yes, a nightclub singer Chez Anonmom, where my almost-two year old demands song after song after song for a good hour before naptime. Near the end of the hour, I start to doze off in bed, but he wakes me up demanding more, more, more!
I guess I do have a good singing voice after all. Thanks for the validation, son.
The song is one I adapted from Bozo, who has a tendency to makeup songs and sing them, along with a repotoire of songs from the Adult Swim channel. They always used to annoy me, but after trial and error, I found that they work wonders when I need to change Baby's diaper, or put him into his car seat, both of which require a Herculean amount of effort. Such a small being, such a bundle of energy.
What I've realized is that we all leave relationships with memories, souveniers both good and bad. Althought I've listed the bad things from mine and Bozo's marriage numerous times, there are also many good things I learned from him and have to give him credit for - not only the silly songs that calm my kid down, but he also taught me how to parellel park, and living in an urban setting, I will always be greatful for that.
He also did one very good thing -- without him, memories like this wouldn't be possible.
Thanks, Bozo.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Fascinating things I've found online recently
For your viewing pleasure, a few things I've seen recently that have me saying, "Wow, that's fascinating!"
- A Brit restaurant with an Alice in Wonderland-inspired menu.
- The world's oldest Bible is now online, includes parts of New Testament that are not included in modern editions.
- Michael Jackson's ghost appears in a CNN interview - creeeeeepy!
- The history of the CrackBerry ... I mean Blackberry.
- A Brit restaurant with an Alice in Wonderland-inspired menu.
- The world's oldest Bible is now online, includes parts of New Testament that are not included in modern editions.
- Michael Jackson's ghost appears in a CNN interview - creeeeeepy!
- The history of the CrackBerry ... I mean Blackberry.
Hello? Is this me I'm talking about?!
I love to shop.
Although I am a single mom on a limited income with ever-increasing expenses and haven't gone shopping in eons, if I had the cash, you betcha I'd be out spending it.
Thinking about my non-spending habits now, I can hardly believe I'm the same person from a few years ago who would spend hundreds of dollars in a couple of days on things that are long gone. After the spree, I would look at my bank balance, and say, well, that's how you go through $700 in a couple of days. It was positively OBSCENE.
AWFUL!
Now, conversely, I am the queen of cheap, reusing, recycling, and breaking into a sweat if I think something has rung up for more than it was listed. I can't imagine getting any cheaper ... my next step is to start scrounging around in trash cans for bottles and cans. At this point, I feel the temptation when I see them right on top of the garbage at the gym or wherever. My common sense of decency tells me: "We don't do that," but my frugal pennypinching self says ... "That is 5 cents towards a dream."
Thinking back on that free-wheeling time in my life, I justify my expenditures by realizing that I HAD to have those behaviors and then not be able to behave in previous ways in order to appreciate what I do have and have earned.
Which leads me to say: wtf?
Lately, I've been visiting my favorite online store etsy.com, drooling over earrings, artwork, ribbons. There's this pair of ruby earrings ... oh my goodness. They're fabulous and I would wear them frequently, but ... that money would purchase a tank of gas, a trip to the grocery store, a few meals out, go towards the mascara I use.
What I've learned in the past few months of being disposable income-less is that I'd rather spend my money on experiences ... the trip to the museum, gas for a trip to visit friends ... I just unloaded a bunch of "things" at a garage sale ... "things" I once valued enough to spend money on that don't mean anything anymore.
In my maturity, I envision myself with a vegetable garden, dreaming of the day I can afford to have one of those. The latest makeup collection? My younger self would have bought everything and then backups of the pretty colors. My older self? Whatever ... I have enough makeup to last me for many years to come and then some.
For this ... I'm giving myself a pat on the back. Go, Anonmom, with your bad, money-saving self.
Although I am a single mom on a limited income with ever-increasing expenses and haven't gone shopping in eons, if I had the cash, you betcha I'd be out spending it.
Thinking about my non-spending habits now, I can hardly believe I'm the same person from a few years ago who would spend hundreds of dollars in a couple of days on things that are long gone. After the spree, I would look at my bank balance, and say, well, that's how you go through $700 in a couple of days. It was positively OBSCENE.
AWFUL!
Now, conversely, I am the queen of cheap, reusing, recycling, and breaking into a sweat if I think something has rung up for more than it was listed. I can't imagine getting any cheaper ... my next step is to start scrounging around in trash cans for bottles and cans. At this point, I feel the temptation when I see them right on top of the garbage at the gym or wherever. My common sense of decency tells me: "We don't do that," but my frugal pennypinching self says ... "That is 5 cents towards a dream."
Thinking back on that free-wheeling time in my life, I justify my expenditures by realizing that I HAD to have those behaviors and then not be able to behave in previous ways in order to appreciate what I do have and have earned.
Which leads me to say: wtf?
Lately, I've been visiting my favorite online store etsy.com, drooling over earrings, artwork, ribbons. There's this pair of ruby earrings ... oh my goodness. They're fabulous and I would wear them frequently, but ... that money would purchase a tank of gas, a trip to the grocery store, a few meals out, go towards the mascara I use.
What I've learned in the past few months of being disposable income-less is that I'd rather spend my money on experiences ... the trip to the museum, gas for a trip to visit friends ... I just unloaded a bunch of "things" at a garage sale ... "things" I once valued enough to spend money on that don't mean anything anymore.
In my maturity, I envision myself with a vegetable garden, dreaming of the day I can afford to have one of those. The latest makeup collection? My younger self would have bought everything and then backups of the pretty colors. My older self? Whatever ... I have enough makeup to last me for many years to come and then some.
For this ... I'm giving myself a pat on the back. Go, Anonmom, with your bad, money-saving self.
Monday, July 6, 2009
June 25th ...
... came and went and I didn't even realize it.
That's a VERY good thing --I've progressed and I didn't even know it.
The significance of that day? It would have been my 4th wedding anniversary. Seems like a zillion years ago, though, really and truly. That was a whole different person making soon-to-be-broken vows on a fishing boat on Big Bear Lake.
To be brutally honest, there's not a whole lot I WANT to remember about that day ... looking back, I shortchanged myself on what I really wanted, and I guess that's ok, in a way, because I don't feel so bad about not having the wedding of my dreams.
Well, one good thing came out of it ... besides Baby, of course ... this happy memory. Photo slightly altered to protect my best man's privacy and YES, there's my BLACK (UGH!) wedding outfit and Sex and the City shoes:
Onward and upward, eh?
Sunday, July 5, 2009
A day late, but the sentiment's the same
(because I didn't have access to a scanner yesterday)
(click on the letter to enlarge it)
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Friday, July 3, 2009
This is what life is all about ...
No, not being followed around by goats all the time, sillies!
After a truly glorious Friday off of work, I can say that I loved life today. Just me, my son, and a boatload of adventures. We're at my mom's house, and in the space of a few hours the two of us went to a petting zoo, ran around a mall, played at a park, went to a pool ... and one of use collapsed in a heap at 9 pm.
We might not have a ton of money, we might not have the largest home or the fanciest car ... but we're living life, we're doing things and not just talking about doing them. Yes, this IS the life I have and I love it.
I wish every day could be like this. A certain saying goes: some have to work so that others can play ... but isn't it just grand to have a few days to play?
Hella scrilla
Bozo's departure to New Mexico is rapidly approaching and I'm in quite the bind.
One of the few perks of having Bozo as my baby daddy is the fact that he has never really worked full-time and therefore has a rather flexible schedule. Tuesday afternoons are the only time my exMIL can't watch Baby, and so Bozo picks up the slack for 4 hours, which is actually 2 hours of sleep, 2 hours of play, but it works out well.
Him leaving leaves me in a bit of a pickle, because it means I have to scramble around and look for suitable daycare. Yikes. While it was super duper swell of him to buy me the Blackberry, there is a larger problem at hand ... the fact that he's not going to up his child support payments anytime soon, and Baby's upcoming day care needs are going to be very pricey for me on the regular.
Way back when, I remember when my maternity leave ended I was in SUCH a state over leaving Baby even with his grandparents. Now he's older, a lot sturdier, extremely independent, and it's just a matter of finding a place that fits the bill. Literally.
Shit. With a capital S.
...
The pavement pounding is going, and I'm finding a lot of jobs out there that would be great fits. IN fact, there are tons of job openings, but a couple of problems.
1. too many applicants per job opening, and
2. employers want too much for too little pay. like ridiculously little. Like, uh, helloooooo, this is California? Southern California?
The good news?
1. 2 coworkers just got fabulous new jobs on their own accords.
2. If I were to get the ax, aapparently layoffs come with 2 months severance pay.
I got a surprise FB message from someone who had been unceremoniously fired just because over a year ago ... i'd been looking for her ... guess what? she found an amazing job less than a month after, pays much more, get's respect, AND a raise.
One of the few perks of having Bozo as my baby daddy is the fact that he has never really worked full-time and therefore has a rather flexible schedule. Tuesday afternoons are the only time my exMIL can't watch Baby, and so Bozo picks up the slack for 4 hours, which is actually 2 hours of sleep, 2 hours of play, but it works out well.
Him leaving leaves me in a bit of a pickle, because it means I have to scramble around and look for suitable daycare. Yikes. While it was super duper swell of him to buy me the Blackberry, there is a larger problem at hand ... the fact that he's not going to up his child support payments anytime soon, and Baby's upcoming day care needs are going to be very pricey for me on the regular.
Way back when, I remember when my maternity leave ended I was in SUCH a state over leaving Baby even with his grandparents. Now he's older, a lot sturdier, extremely independent, and it's just a matter of finding a place that fits the bill. Literally.
Shit. With a capital S.
...
The pavement pounding is going, and I'm finding a lot of jobs out there that would be great fits. IN fact, there are tons of job openings, but a couple of problems.
1. too many applicants per job opening, and
2. employers want too much for too little pay. like ridiculously little. Like, uh, helloooooo, this is California? Southern California?
The good news?
1. 2 coworkers just got fabulous new jobs on their own accords.
2. If I were to get the ax, aapparently layoffs come with 2 months severance pay.
I got a surprise FB message from someone who had been unceremoniously fired just because over a year ago ... i'd been looking for her ... guess what? she found an amazing job less than a month after, pays much more, get's respect, AND a raise.
It's time, it's time, it's time.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Well, bust my buttons
Every once in a while - maybe once a year - Bozo does something extremely thoughtful, which is also very out of character. You all know how that Bozo is by now.
They say you get what you put into the universe, and I'm now the owner a Blackberry Curve in Burgundy. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! And all I had to do was give Bozo a halfhearted side hug in exchange. Worth it to be so technologically advanced, and I wanted one before my trip next month.
After laughing at me when I asked him to buy me one on Tuesday, he texted me on Saturday asking if I wanted to go pick up a new phone ... for an advanced birthday present. My birthday's in November. I've already dinged it a bit on a corner, but it's such a great thing to have in my busy life.
They say you get what you put into the universe, and I'm now the owner a Blackberry Curve in Burgundy. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! And all I had to do was give Bozo a halfhearted side hug in exchange. Worth it to be so technologically advanced, and I wanted one before my trip next month.
After laughing at me when I asked him to buy me one on Tuesday, he texted me on Saturday asking if I wanted to go pick up a new phone ... for an advanced birthday present. My birthday's in November. I've already dinged it a bit on a corner, but it's such a great thing to have in my busy life.
Two years ago, Bozo bought my last phone, as well, since he was the one who smashed my other one into smithereens during a fight. The same fight when he shoved me and pushed me around. I was 8 months pregnant. Sad times. So happy we're divorced. SO happy.
It was interesting -- we took baby for dinner after his visitation time and although he was pretty distant, he noticed that baby was so excited to see kids and wanted to interact with them. It's not just a matter of not having people to watch him, I know it's really time for Baby to be around kids in a daycare setting.
Maybe if I ask he'll help pay for daycare as an advanced Chrismas present? Too much to ask, you think?
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
That's why his name is Bozo
Picking up Baby from Bozo's after work on Tuesday, I went into detail about Baby's series of early awakenings in a ploy to earn sympathy.
Me: "He didn't rest for a second! He was just go, go, go!"
Bozo: "Yeah, I don't know how you deal with that."
Me: "He didn't rest for a second! He was just go, go, go!"
Bozo: "Yeah, I don't know how you deal with that."
I have to laugh...
... because in the latest company newsletter, there was a note warning us to be careful about how much toilet paper we use, because buying toilet paper/toilet seat covers/paper towels is apparently breaking the bank.
Bwahahahahaahahaha.
Bwahahahahaahahaha.
Ghosts
I've been spending some time lately indulging in creative visualization - the theory that if you focus on what you want and meditate on positive thoughts, it's more likely to come to you. I see a spacious home, dark wood floors, windows all around, light streaming in during the daytime. I see big rooms for me and baby, a big walk in closet, room for a washer and dryer, a friendly and safe neighborhood. Privacy. It's lovely and perfect for me and Baby.
Hard to believe that it's been exactly two years since we've been in this current space, which is small, crowded, unsafe, and surrounded by neighbors who put the trash into trailer trash. Not only that, I know that as long as I stay in this apartment, I'm going to continue to be haunted by ghosts of memories from the past. Of mine and Bozo's past.
On Saturday night, I was roaming around the living room, picking up before bedtime, and I was transported back in time to almost two years ago - when baby was newly born, when Bozo was still around, and when he was yelling at me, jumping and screaming and breaking things, tearing books apart.
He looked like a gorilla.
I wasn't in love with him anymore. Hadn't been for quite some time, but was trying so hard to make it work. The lies we tell ourselves to get through stuff. His antics weren't helping any. It took a good few minutes for me to remember that something like that will never happen ever again. Ever.
--
Well, it's official. Not only is Bozo leaving in a matter of weeks, but I saw a photo of a smiling woman wearing a headscarf on his computer when I dropped baby off on Sunday.
It's all good. And that's all I have to say about that.
Hard to believe that it's been exactly two years since we've been in this current space, which is small, crowded, unsafe, and surrounded by neighbors who put the trash into trailer trash. Not only that, I know that as long as I stay in this apartment, I'm going to continue to be haunted by ghosts of memories from the past. Of mine and Bozo's past.
On Saturday night, I was roaming around the living room, picking up before bedtime, and I was transported back in time to almost two years ago - when baby was newly born, when Bozo was still around, and when he was yelling at me, jumping and screaming and breaking things, tearing books apart.
He looked like a gorilla.
I wasn't in love with him anymore. Hadn't been for quite some time, but was trying so hard to make it work. The lies we tell ourselves to get through stuff. His antics weren't helping any. It took a good few minutes for me to remember that something like that will never happen ever again. Ever.
--
Well, it's official. Not only is Bozo leaving in a matter of weeks, but I saw a photo of a smiling woman wearing a headscarf on his computer when I dropped baby off on Sunday.
It's all good. And that's all I have to say about that.
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