Charlie Bit Me

So...the other night, I spent ages and ages combing burrs out of Charlie's fur. He didn't like it...he really didn't like it. Now, usually when I comb him out, there's some growling on his part. Basically it's grumbling that lets me know he doesn't like what I'm doing. This time, however...he was super matted and despite my best efforts to not inflict any pain, there was a fair amount of tugging and hair pulling. And...the little fucker bit me.

He felt bad about it right away, and hung his head and everything...But...Charlie bit me. It was shocking. And slightly funny. Because I'm weird, and I maybe think a bit too much about our relationship, I couldn't get over the whole "Charlie bit me" thing...and it made me think of this video on Youtube that I saw a while back.

Bad Blogger: Revisited...

Gah...this whole living a real life thing is really eating into my computer time. Between family and school stuff and cooking and cleaning and unpacking, I'm down to just a few hours a day on my computer, and since most of my favorite people live in the internet, that really bums me out.

School starts for me on Monday...I'm excited and nervous and hoping that nothing derails the semester. I won't bore you with the details, but I'm sure to be bringing you humorous anecdotes about the morons who inhabit online courses and their complete disregard for the rules of grammar...or, you know...you'll hear about it on your nightly news when I lose my shit and start shooting from the tallest building in town...which is, like, three whole stories tall...

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

So, remember that post where I was all zen and happy and shit...yeah...I ran out of time and gas money and didn't get to the pharmacy to pick up my meds and today has been such a fucking roller coaster it's ridiculous. Woke up happy, got sad, got happy, felt serene for about five minutes, then got irritated. My mind has been hopping from subject to subject without actually finishing a single thought. I've been grumpy and teary since the midget went to bed.

I watched an episode of Whale Wars and then half an episode of Pit Boss, and when I started sobbing and cuddling my dogs and trying to figure out how to justify adopting a pit bull, I said...Um...Fuck this...and turned off the television and turned on my iPod and did dishes and some more unpacking and cleaning. I've since taken a sleeping pill and am now trying to shut my brain down with mindless facebook games.

However, while listening to my iPod and singing (screaming) really badly, I decided I really, really wanted to share this song with you, gentle reader. I think if I could just play this on an internal loop 24/7 I'd be so much easier to withstand...

Don't Make Me Get All Dictionary On Your Ass

For those of you who don't know me in real life...all two of you out there who got here by googling "snake poo" or "Craigslist hookers and goats" (so not kidding...) I'm a bit of an English freak. Particularly as it pertains to grammar and spelling, but punctuation is a subject that gets me all testy as well. So, needless to say, the angrier I get, the colder and more precise my English gets...well, until I reach the point of hysteria and then I'm just shouting gibberish and at that point, it's probably best to back out of the room slowly and return an hour or two later with a Coke to appease my murderous rage.

About a week ago, one of my favorite bloggers, Dee of Curvaceous Dee Twittered that a troll was lurking on her site. The comment the idiot left was ridiculously lame. So lame in fact, that I won't even bother to repeat it here. However, as I have more than a slight internet crush on Dee and I think she's fucking kickass, I was totally offended. And what happens when I get pissed? Other people shout, swear, ignore or laugh at idiots. I, however, pull out a dictionary and cut them to pieces with my favorite weapon...words.

Another thing you won't know about me unless you know me in real life is that I'm fiercely protective of people I love or admire. I once jumped into a lake to save the Archaeogoddess' sandal (true story)...even though of all the people on the boat I was the worst swimmer (still am) but the Archaeogoddess had stuck her finger in a cheese shredder and couldn't get her hand wet. Oh, and the sandal was totally floating so it wasn't even an emergency...but it was the Archaeogoddess' sandal for fuck sake! So, yes, even though I know that it's better to ignore the trolls, that feeding the trolls only encourages them, I let him (well, probably not him, since I doubt he returned to view the venom spewed in his direction) know in no uncertain terms what I thought of his comment, and idiots like him in general.

But that wasn't the best part...the best part is that Dee did a round up of the incident (because I wasn't her only reader to tell the troll to fuck off) and the ensuing reader comments in which she thanked each one of us for defending her loveliness. When mentioning my comment she said "Laura got all dictionary on his ass" which may be the most kickass description of my English fascism to date. I love it. It is totally going to be my new threat when someone pisses me off.

I highly recommend checking out Dee's site, though you should be warned that it's totally NSFW.

Also, I should totally get out more...

Further Evidence That The Midget is My Kid

Had a big family barbecue today. The midget and I were tired and slept in, and were just kind of lazing around the house until about noon, when the cousins started calling to harass me into getting my lazy ass into gear. About the third time they called, the midget answers and I hear her going "Uh huh, uh huh" and then "Okay." She hangs up the phone, turns to me and says..."Basically, Mom, all I heard was 'whine, whine, whine...get up here.'"

It brought a tear to my eye...

I'm so Zen I'm Like Buddha...well...kinda...

You ever have one of those days where everyone you see and everything you do totally has a theme? That's been the last 24 hours for me. I just feel like I've had an epiphany or a break through...or maybe I'm just manic and haven't realized it yet...ah, the joy of being bipolar.

Anyway...the epiphany is this...No one can make me unhappy, unless I choose to let them. And that's the only power I have. That's it. I can either take your shit and let you treat me like crap and feel bad about myself, or I can love myself enough to say, you know what...Fuck you if you don't like me, if you think I'm too fat or too messy or too flighty. Whatever. That's your issue. It isn't mine, and I'm not going to take your issue on...Got it?

See, last night at about midnight I get an instant message from my cousin, who, from the magic that is Facebook, found her ex-fiance...the one that walked out and left her flat with no explanation, no goodbye....nothing. Just boom...gone. Well, turns out he's married, and she's cute and they look happy. My cousin, who I love dearly, is not a "glass half empty" person so much as she's a..."why is MY glass always empty" kind of person. As though everything in her life sucks and she's the only who has bad things happen.

Now, I love this girl, don't get me wrong. She's funny, and kind and generous and good...but she wallows a lot. I mean a lot...if something happens that's not what she wanted, she ignores all the good things in her life and says "Why does my life always suck? Why can't I have anything good?" Now, in fairness...she's a single mom, has some health issues and very little money (gosh, where have I heard that story before?), but on the other hand...she has an amazing family, a place to live, all of the necessities and quite a few luxuries...But she doesn't want to see that, she wants to focus on what's wrong. And I've been there...I've so been there. It's hard to drag yourself out of that place. It just sucks to be miserable all the time, and yes...it is a choice. Find a way to laugh, to inhabit your life so that when you look at what other people have, you don't ignore all that you have to wish for what you think they have.

Because that's the key isn't it? It's our perception. I told my cousin, yes, I'm sure they look happy in the pictures. Most people don't share the not so good times with the rest of the world. They want you to see the happy, everything's great moments, not the "my kid was up all night, and the dog peed on my only clean blanket and I got a flat tire" moments. Because we all have them, we just aren't interested in taking pictures. It's not a moment we want to keep.

Then tonight I was talking to another friend (that accommodating, picture taking friend, who we've decided to call Sam) and he was sort of having a wallowing kind of a moment, and I was totally on my soapbox with the same blunt realizations I'm giving myself and my cousin. And while I was chatting with him online, I was also watching a silly romantic comedy of the same theme...the "it's all in how you choose to see it" theme. It felt like the universe was just saying..."Yes, you idiot woman, you've finally got it."

Now, in fairness...there's a good chance I'm headed into a manic phase,and that in a week, I'll be all "boohoo, my life sucks" but I'm going to try and keep this centered in my mind, that it's all in the way you choose to live your life. If you've decided to be happy, and that nothing, not that flat tire or pissing dog or empty wallet, is going to ruin that happiness. And then maybe, just maybe...that'll be enough...

HNT

Ugh...moving is such a pain, isn't it? I completely forgot it was Thursday, and I had this lovely pic, taken by the same accomodating friend as the last. I'm going to have to come up with a handly pseudonym for him, aren't I?

Happy HNT, everyone!




Click the pretty blue button to see what HNT is all about....

All Tied Up....

I'm a busy girl these days...barely a moment to think about posting, but a good friend lent me a hand for this week's HNT post...So unselfish of him, don't you think?

Bad Blogger...

That's me. I have attempted several starts at posts, but life (and my crazy fibro-fogged bipolar brain) has stopped me dead each time.

There are big changes coming to my universe...the midget and I are striking out on our own..well, kinda. For a number of reasons I'd rather not explain, it just isn't working out living with my sister. So, we're headed back "up the hill" to the family's property (well, you know, assuming it's okay with my parents). I've been batting the idea around for awhile, and the midget's been begging for the move, so better to do it now, before school starts...you know, when it's eight million degrees outside.

So, given that the next few weeks will be all about moving and getting shit done, I doubt I'll be a good blogger, but I'm going to try like hell to at least continue with the HNT posts and a tidbit here and there...Onward...right?

HNT

i don't need anyone to hold me
i can hold my own
i got highways for stretchmarks
see where i've grown

-Ani Difranco, My IQ

That Old Song

I'm going to write a post about the awesomeness of taking your giddy ten year old daughter to see a much anticipated movie on opening night at midnight tomorrow after I've slept and recovered a bit, but tonight, on the way home from the sparkly vampire movie, the younger sister had the radio tuned to the station that plays song from our youth...you know eons ago, back in the '90s. And I heard two songs that I haven't heard in ages, and seemed a tiny bit symbolic given my earlier post...

First..this gem from Ace of Base...


And this fantastic anthem from Meredith Brooks...a long time favorite and theme song of mine...

No Words...

I'm sad today...learned something last night that made realize the exgirlfriend as I knew her truly does not exist any longer. After all that's happened in the last year and a half, this final straw seems insignificant on the surface, but speaks volumes about how far she's come from the woman I once loved. It's not even worth explaining, as it doesn't really affect me or the midget, other than to make me realize that the exgirlfriend's choice to be less active in the midget's life than the midget's father is a blessing in disguise.

I've tried to write this post three times in the last 17 hours, and I'm still having a hard time finding the words to convey how I'm feeling. I can't even find a song that says what I can't...

So, instead, I'm going to post this youtube video of the current audiobook that is amusing me and the midget, because it's made of awesome. It's also in keeping with the vampire theme I've got going on today, since the younger sister is taking the midget and me to see the new Twilight movie...Yay for sparkly vampires...

The Return of HNT

So, my promise to myself to post a weekly HNT (half-naked Thursday) was totally derailed by the intrusion of Diabetes into my little universe. It's hard to think about body scapes and tasteful pictures of this body that has housed me for 33 years when I'm up at 2am checking blood sugars and trolling through websites for ways to make our lives easier.

I struggled with this picture. It shows more of me than any of my previous pictures. I'm hesitant to post it, because it's very honest, the pinky pallor of my skin, the curves of flesh that resemble a landscape far more than an ideal bodyscape, the freckles...

But, this is the body that housed my midget for 40 long weeks, the body that comforts her when life gets too tough, the body that hugs my nieces and nephews, the body that has laughed for an uncountable number of hours with my beloved Archaeogoddess, the body that I have promised myself I would learn to love, if not for my sake, then for the sake of my midget, who needs to see that self worth should not be measured by numbers, or whether or not you look like the models on the covers of the magazines.

Thank you to everyone who comes here, and keeps coming back, regardless of the number of half nekked pictures I post, or the number of times I use "fuck" in a sentence. Thanks for letting me be me, and being brave enough to come back.

It's Not Just Me

I've been laboring under the mistaken impression that I am the lone woman on the planet who doesn't want a relationship and has no desire to find a "mate." I have gotten such strange looks for saying things like..."I love you today, I loved you yesterday and I'm pretty sure I'm going to love you tomorrow...please don't ask for more."

I also used to get the weirdest looks when I told people that the exgirlfriend was not my best friend, that I have an amazing best friend who gets me and to whom I can tell anything and know that she will not judge me. She's like another piece of my soul. Not that I didn't love the exgirlfriend. I did. People would always say that I was being unfair to my girlfriend by having a best friend. Or people would assume that because I'm bisexual, the love I have for my best friend must be somehow romantic in nature. Which is just ridiculous.

Anyway..I never knew other women that had the same feeling. Until tonight when I read a fantastic post on Fuck Yeah, Motherhood and went "Holy Fuck! I'm not the only one."

This is the best part...Each word is something that resonates, that I could have written. I fucking love it!!

But it’s not enough. People want things that baffle me. Like girlfriends. And wives. And forever. I am now. I am “I love you”, not “I will always love you”. I am “I like being with you”, not “I’ll never leave you”. I am “Let’s go to the park today”, not “Let’s go to the Caribbean in March”. I am not a picket fence. I’m not even a key to your apartment. I am just me. I have seen always, forever, and never go south and I believe in only making promises I can keep. I don’t know if anyone will ever be able to accept my tiny bit of today without asking for a whole lot of tomorrow. That’s okay, though. I’m still sensational.

Dogs, Dogs, Dogs

I may have mentioned my obsessive and totally requited love for this thing

at least once or twice on this here blog thingie. We love each other. I'm not embarrassed to tell you that. Sure, other people have fulfilling relationships with human beings, but that rarely works out for me, so I'm sticking with this guy. He's cute, cuddly and jealously posessive. Not in a creepy "If I can't have you, no one can" kind of way, but in a really cute "I'm going chase away all the other dogs...and WTF, you got another dog?!?" kind of way. And only rarely does he change the channel when I'm watching the Discovery channel.

Now, just because I love him, that doesn't mean there isn't room for other dogs in my life. It's not like my obsession with Coke (no, not coke as in the white powder, but the brown carbonated stuff that comes in the red can, and No, I will not allow you to substitute Pepsi, what kind of girl do you think I am?), I love lots of dogs...I mean there's this guy:

And now, the newest member of my family...


This is Chewy. Chewy is a seven month old Chihuahua mix. He's actually not my dog, he's the midget's dog. Of course, that hasn't stopped me from stealing him and cuddling him and holding him and giving him kisses, much to the dismay of Charlie and Ellwood. They don't dislike him, not at all...they play with him and Ellwood lets him cuddle and everything. But, Ellwood and especially Charlie, are not thrilled about my affection for this little guy. They are of the opinion that two dogs ought to be quite enough for me, and they appear to feel that I should pretty much ignore the new puppy.

We're going to have a group therapy session next week...you know, so I can reassure them of the love I have for them, and we can talk about any other issues that may be lurking just beneath the surface of our happy home...like Ellwood's need to vomit on my bed at one in the morning...

What a Difference a Year Makes...

Ah, the first weekend in June. Warm weather, the end of school and for us here in my tiny corner of the universe...the Italian Picnic. It's as small town as you can get. A small carnival with a handful of rides, playing bingo for salami, listening to a bad cover band, visiting with a good friend at the Bocce Ball court. It is such an integral part of life in this area that it's never really a question of if you're going to go, but rather, when, and with whom.

I spent the evening at the picnic with the family. Barely organized chaos it was, what with the youngest girl wanting to do everything the midget (who is 7 years older) did, while our middle girls tried to be brave enough to ride the carousel by themselves. The midget was amazingly patient with her youngest girl cousin, as she always is. She went on the "baby rides" with her and took her down the big slide about a dozen times and only whined a little about not being able to go on the big, scary rides because she didn't want to go by herself.

It really made me think about last year, and how far I've come since then. I was tying myself in knots over someone who wasn't worth the time and the effort and trying to be strong enough to parent by myself, giving the exgirlfriend far more credit than she deserved in terms of what she brought to the table. A year ago, I thought the worst had happened, but I've since learned better. What had happened was the best thing that could happen, it was just tied up with so much ugliness that I couldn't see how much better off the midget and I were without a woman who not only wasn't happy, but didn't want to be happy, and didn't want the life we lived. I keep thinking how hard it would have been to make it through the last two months with all that's happened with the midget and having the added burden of trying to tiptoe around the exgirlfriend.

I hate to use a cliche, but things happen for a reason. Every horrible, shitty thing that has happened in my life has made room for something better, made me strong enough to be the midget's mom and to parent on my own. I'm not perfect, far from it, but I'm holding our lives together and the midget's world is full of lots of love and laughter and family, and that's the only indicator of success I need...

Full Disclosure?

Warning: This post definitely falls under the TMI category...

I keep coming back to the same question with this here blog thingy. Now, in my opinion, having a blog is a bit like having a memoir you publish whilst you are living it. You know, so you don't forget the good bits. (Unless, of course, you are like me and have and forget what you're doing in the time it takes to walk from one end of the house to the other, then you forget the good bits as you go, anyway.) There are problems with that theory, of course. Now, if you're like me and you have your very own anti-fan club, then anything you say will definitely be mangled and twisted into a weapon to use against you and those you love. Or there's the fact that while you may not have a problem with airing all your dirty laundry for the world to see, the people who are part of your daily life maybe don't want their lives exposed for all and sundry to see. And, of course, there are the readers who know you in the real world who maybe don't want to hear about your sexual exploits (hi, Mom) or see your naked pictures. But, dammit...You all (all two of my readers)have been warned many, many times...if you're still coming here, I refuse to be held responsible.

Why is this coming up again? Because for the first time in eight very long months, I've had sex. Glorious, uncomplicated, no strings sex. And it was awesome. It was exactly what I needed, without all the gory relationship crap that I really, really don't need. It reaffirms my belief that monogamous, committed relationships aren't for me. It was not awkward or weird and there are no expectations on either end. And you know what? I feel no guilt, no shame, no embarrassment. We both got exactly what we wanted out of the experience and said good night and went our separate ways.

I hesitated to say anything about it for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that I don't want to answer a lot of questions about this person, because while I genuinely care for this person, it's not the kind of caring that's going to lead to any kind of a relationship type thing. Even if I was in a place emotionally or logistically to have a relationship, this just wouldn't be going there. And hell, I really don't even know if it's going to happen again, well with this person, I mean...because sex will be happening again. Eight months was too long, I can't see hanging up my...erm...bits and pieces...at the very, very young age of 33.

It was healing, and refreshing and goddammit, life-affirming. I am still here, still someone besides a mom, besides a sister or a cousin or a friend. I'm a woman in my own right, and proud of it. And walking around with a bit of a cat who ate the canary smirk this week....

Back On the Couch...

Back in therapy. Trying to deal with my shit, look my crazy demons in the eyes, then lay them to rest once and for all. A lot of things precipitated the move, but the biggest thing has been the midget. Dealing with her diagnosis, trying to take care of her alone...frankly, I can't be up all night wrestling with a brain that torments me endlessly, I just don't have the time.

I hate this shit, I should mention. I hate looking my craziness full in the face and trying to make sense of it. I hate taking apart my mistakes to see the motivations behind them, and (big surprise) I hate admitting my mistakes. If I knew how to say...Hmmm..fucked up, okay, learn from it and move on, admitting my mistakes wouldn't be a problem. Because I don't mind admitting I'm a fuck up and a flake and a high strung nut case. I am all of those things, and I can say that easily and honestly without batting an eye. But the individual things that I have done, words I have said that hurt people, that sucks. Because I basically have two settings...Ignore and Obsess. So, either I put it out of my mind and act like it never happened, or I play it over and over in my mind, analyzing each and every second, thinking of all the things I could have, should have said or done instead. I torture myself and berate myself, and my worst enemy could not tear me down the way I do when I Obsess.

And, I hate having to be honest. Because in real life I'm rarely very honest about how I feel. I'm flippant and dismissive and sarcastic. Admitting that I'm sad or scared or lonely...I don't like to do that, but therapy doesn't work if you aren't honest.

In that vein...the honesty vein..I'm posting this video. It's one of my all time favorite songs, something that's been in constant rotation for years, off and on, and back on right now in a big way. The song is beautiful and amazing, but the video, with Robert Downey Jr. doing his hot, soulful broody thing, really just makes it. I wish I had written this song, it says everything...

Yeah, I'm That Liberal Freak...

The one that makes her own cleaners because store bought chemicals are bad for the earth. The one that watches "Ru Paul's Drag Race" with her 10 year old, and answers the same 10 year old's questions about sex and life with as much honesty as the midget can stand before she runs screaming "Eeew!!" The one that doesn't believe in any gods or follow any religions.

Latest adventure in liberalism? Homeschooling. No, not denim prairie dress wearing, putting GOD back in the curriculum homeschooling, but instead, I'm going to fill my midget's brain with all my nutcase liberal ideas and then turn her loose on the conservatives..Mwuhahaha...

Not really.

Kind of....

Actually, I'm just really tired of sending this kid to school all day and having her come home having learned very little. I'm tired of the fact that they spent an entire month on "Black History," but she can't name a single important leader in the Civil Rights movement. I'm frustrated with public education, that they don't read fantastic books like "Where the Red Fern Grows" or "Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry" anymore. I'm literally nauseated at the idea of my 10 year old, type 1 diabetic midget with ADD in a classroom with 40 other kids and 1 (nope, not a typo...that's 1) teacher.

Now, since I'm a broke-ass bitch, I had to go with an online charter school for my curriculum. I've heard a lot of good and a lot of bad about online charter schools, but I've looked over the curriculum, and it's so much MORE than what she's been getting in her "normal" school, that even though it's exactly what I'd have chosen myself, it's close enough, and I'll have enough freedom that I can add some things that I need her to know. I won't have to "unteach" her the sanitized version of history they are teaching kids these days. Because that shit pisses me off.

It's a lot of work, I know. If I was that mom, the one that could just let it go, the burden of time and energy and the fact that the midget and I will be together all day long every damn day would send me running for the hills. But, I'm not that mom. I'm not interested in being that mom, 'cause I'm that liberal freak...

Damn You, Diabetes!!!

That's the new tag line in our house. Often said with fist waving and mock anguish that is trying to chip away at the very real grief and fear this wretched disease invokes. Truthfully, we are holding up well here, and doing what we do best, which is to smile through our tears.

You know, I've spent years now listening to people tell me their stories about so-and-so, a friend of their mother-brother-father-aunt-cousin-firstgradeteacher who drank some magical fruit juice and cured whatever condition their mother-brother-father-aunt-cousin-firstgradeteacher had that I also have...And I thought I was frustrated with it before, but I've reached new depths of frustrations with the ignorance with which some people go through life, the way they repeat every insipid little snippet they ever hear. I've heard all the misinformation about my health issues and learned to smile and nod, but the mama bear in me has a hard time letting it go when someone insists they know what caused the midget's diabetes or that they heard of a "cure." And the one that gets me angriest is that she simply needs to cut out sugar and become more active and the diabetes will go away.

Now, admittedly, a month ago I didn't know a third or even a hundredth of what I know now, but I also knew that I didn't know it and would never presume to tell a parent of a child with a life threatening illness how to care for the disease, but some people think that a thirty second segment they half-assedly remember from a news program a month ago gives them the right to tell me that my daughter will be "fine." And that shit makes me want to stab them.

Let's get something clear here. Yes, I am aware that compared to even just 10 years ago, the treatment options for type 1 diabetes have improved exponentially. I know that the midget's prognosis is good, especially because we do understand the severity of the disease and all that it takes to treat it. But just because there are effective treatments, just because diabetes treatments have improved so much doesn't mean that it isn't scary as fuck to know that your child has a disease that can kill them. When you hold that tiny vial of insulin in your hand and realize that the smallest of mistakes can be fatal...that's scary, and no amount of patting me on my head changes that.

Still...I am grateful that she is doing as well as she is, that we caught things before it got so bad that her kidneys were damaged. I am grateful for my family who listens to me rant and rave about how unfair this all is. I am grateful for the doctors and nurses that have taught me so much in such a short time. And I'm grateful that my midget is strong and resilient and brave.

Gratitude aside...the fact is diabetes sucks...