Adventures in Self-Love

I really wish Blogger would quit changing shit...or that maybe I was around often enough to notice and understand the changes.  Mostly, though, it's the option that requires on effort of my part.  That's just how I roll.

Ahem.

Anyway, I am here for once, and it's not just to post a video to a song that's roughly the same age I am.  Though, I admit that'll likely happen next.  And not just because listening to songs that are as old as I am makes me feel younger.  It's because sometimes the words in my head get garbled somewhere between my brain and my fingers, and so it's easier to post someone else's words and go..."Yeah, what she said."

I am recovering from a fantastic, but exhausting weekend.  My younger sister came to visit and we decided that , dammit, we deserved some fun.  So, we thought we'd head out to the Italian Picnic, which is a lot like a county fair without the livestock, but with the added bonus of bocce ball.  And, since it's one of the Amador County events, usually you run into everyone you've ever slept with, and their brother...and if you're anything like me, you've probably slept with them, too.  Strangely, I only saw a handful of people I knew, which probably means I'm getting old.  So, after a brief lap of the picnic, during which I was reminded that heels and grass are a bad combo, we headed off to a local bar, to have some fun.

And we did have fun.  I got the older sister to join us, and the midget's dad and his lovely girlfriend were there as well.  We listened to a band that plainly prescribed to the theory that if you can't play it well, you should at least play it loud.  There were a surprising number of people in a very small space, and the bartender made a mean White Russian.  Once our eardrums had been thoroughly assaulted and I had clearly had enough alcohol, we headed off to Denny's (also an Amador County tradition) and ate greasy food to soak up the alcohol.

The evening, combined with a weekend of family time has made me quite exhausted and achy, but my soul feels better than it has in a long, long while.  We're doing it again next month.  It's part of my new "take care of Laura" plan.  And frankly, I need it.  As much fun as I have hanging out with my family...and I do have fun, it's not the same.  Sometimes, I need to not be someone's mom or aunt.  Plus...I need a break from my cousin...I love her dearly, but her continuous unhappiness over everything is wearing.

Look, I get depression.  I understand how it sucks all the color out of the world, and covers even the best things in your life with shit.  It makes you feel like nothing has ever felt okay, and like it will never end.  I get that, but you can't wallow all day, every day.  You can't turn everything into a tragedy and you can't stop finding the humor in shit.  You have to laugh despite the shit, despite the depression.  Because if you don't, then what's the fucking point?

I've got a few more plans in the near future, things that are designed to make me furiously happy.  I've got lunch with a very old friend next week, and another night out with my sisters next month.  I'm talking dancing on tables and waking up in the morning with my fake eyelashes stuck to my nose, going, "Damn that was fun."  I can't wait!

And, because I have to share my musical obsession...here's what's on repeat on my iPod this week...