Living large and dangerous-like without my daughter around

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Is it wrong to be SUPER pumped that my daughter, who has been home from college since December 16, is going away today for the weekend?

Reasons/excuses:

My apartment is a very small, 4-room, 3rd floor, haven.  And that’s counting the bathroom.

She’s a slob.  Not as slobby as she used to be, but just sayin…my sponge was missing from the edge of the sink yesterday when I got home.  It’s not a good sign when your sponge is off presumably cleaning up some mess you have yet to come upon.

  • She does MANY things VERY well — gets excellent grades, jobs she goes after, has many friends, is very musically talented.  But, if left to feed herself, I think she would starve.  That leaves me with lots of money shelled out for food, or lots of cooking that I was enjoying not doing after 20 years of kids at home.

Chastisements from inside my head and from “them”:

  • I should be grateful she decided to stay with me during her break instead of her dad
  • I should be thankful that we have mostly had a fun, funny, enjoyable time together
  • I should remember that there won’t be too many more extended periods of time together before she’s an actual adult with an actual place of her own she prefers

Conclusion:

I’m glad to see her get out, and I’ll be glad to see her return.

In the meantime, I’ll be tucked in bed wearing pjs as much as my little schedule will allow, with the cat, remote, iPad, stack of books, cake (one whole — diet starts Monday), and gin.

That’s right…living large and dangerous-like.

 

 

 

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The Dark and the Light of It

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The Dark Side
Looks like my son lied to me about when he knew he wasn’t going to make it home for Christmas AND his sister told me he is staying with his dad when he does get here

The Light Side
I think he did it to spare my feelings

The Dark Side
My friend, just diagnosed with breast cancer, found out it’s worse than originally thought

The Light Side
She is very tough and positive

The Dark Side
I am eating everything in sight (and there’s a lot of it, and it’s making me feel sick) out of boredom, anxiety, gluttony, and sometimes, hunger

The Light Side
No one is supposed to lose weight during the holidays.  I have plenty to eat and everything is tasty.

The Dark Side
Seems like everyone is ready for me to be done wrestling with being divorced

The Light Side
And then the next day, they listen with compassion

The Dark Side
My daughter tells me what I want to hear, like that she’ll try to get a job during break, but she has no intention of keeping her word, even when I give her leads I know about, and she later gives me bullshit excuses that she think’s I’m dumb enough to believe as legitimate reasons

The Light Side
My daughter still talks to me, and I can remember being JUST LIKE THAT with my mother.

The Dark Side
“-” said that he’s sick of hoping that the integrity he has shown during our separation and divorce would ingratiate himself to me, some of our old friends, and both kids at various times.  That’s because the one promise he didn’t keep — to honor me, his wife who he made vows to, his children’s mother, his friends and family who enjoyed my company — through marriage and divorce he treated me with exceeding disrespect — outweighs all the things he is hoping will add back up to make me, our kids, some of our friends, and his family, trust, or at least, tolerate him again

The Light Side
I’ll have to get back to you on that last one

 

 

 

Know what I hate about bloggers?

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You find one you like.  Really like.

Reading their posts is a big part of your day.  You know about what time they post.  You wait.  You imagine what could be holding them up from giving you your fix.

Or, they disappear for a while.  A long, excruciating, while.

And, I’m fairly confident that I’m no one’s favorite blogger, but I have been gone for over a week, and if you were waiting, I’m sorry.  I know I hate waiting.

At the Thanksgiving reunion, my mom was so fragile looking from her leukemia (in remission) and Parkinson’s.  My bf’s dad passed away during that time.  And my bllf — best life long friend — was diagnosed by telephone with breast cancer as we sat in my mom’s living room.  Life reaches you no matter where you are, and no matter how long it takes you to travel there.

Despite that, it could not have gone better.  The relatives who had never met each other, seemed to like each other, or at least recognize themselves in each other.  My mom is still my sweet, funny mom.  My bf will grieve and move on.  My bllf is one of those people who says things like, “I don’t have time for cancer,”  and “Bring it.”

She’ll be fine.

We’ll all be fine.

In fact, we’re all better than we were a week ago.

 

 

Badass…maybe. Be afraid…a little bit.

61v83d7uykl-_uy500_1I bought this badass little number online and it came today.

It’s described as a “men’s bangle cuff.”

Yeah…no, I had to have it and I’m a woman.

So I’ve got it on and LOVE it!

I can’t figure out what I’m trying to say by wearing it:

I’m rock ‘n roll on my time off and forgot to take off my leather bracelet from performing as a bass player in my weekend band?  That’s quite a lot for one little bracelet to say.  Even a cuff.

Maybe this woman has a hidden “tasteful” tattoo, as well?

I wear all things black.  Oh, yes, look at that.  It is leather.  I hadn’t noticed.

I’m an “old” lady trying to wear “young” things and don’t know it?  Pathetic.

I’m a Pisces.  We don’t know who we are and like to try on any and all personalities?

Who knows.

Feels good. Looks good.  At least to me.

YAY!

 

I’ve figured out my style, and after only five decades!

It’s confirmed:  I look good in jewel tones.

I pretty sure I’m a “winter.”  However, sometimes I look like a dark ginger.

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I only ever wear two colors together, and one is usually black.

The lines are crisp.  The colors are matte and pure.

No frosted lipstick or pastel sweaters.

I love how you think if you look good, you act like you look good, and then you look good.

Personal power is a feeling I’m not used to, but like.  It’s a birthright.

To the untrained eye, I’m still a dumpy, middle aged mom, but in my mind’s eye, I’m a take-charge, jewel-tone wearing, plant a kiss on you with my matte lipstick woman.

 

She seems so happy…

…it almost breaks my heart.

Is that a shame?

She’s at school.  She’s auditioning for all her favorite things — choir, the play Legally Blonde that she got a callback for, her judicial board job has started, her roommate had a birthday.  Her room is starting to smell because no one has time to wash clothes, are you kidding?

I have seen her down the dark hole of depression and she called me today with a litany of possibilities for this year — including her follow up on a new job for next summer — she said she was circling a tree on campus as she talked to me because she had so much energy to expend.

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It chokes me up.  Really.

She’s a good girl who stepped in some smelly shit the past few years.  I’m so happy she’s happy.  I hope shell be happy tomorrow.  I hope if things don’t work out she can take it in stride.

Around that tree.

 

New (additional) obsession: Shameless U.S.

I’m late to some of these parties, but it doesn’t seem to matter.

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Since my last child left the nest and she is tucked into her sophomore year at college — pretty far away — far enough to pause over an impromptu weekend trip home —

I have a lot of time to chat with the cat and surf Netflix.  The cat is very haughty about Netflix, but cats are haughty about everything, (except laser pointers), so I’m not going to feel demeaned by that.

I’ve always had a weird feeling about William H. Macy, husband to Felicity Huffman, and man with a name too similar to W.B. Mason, our office supplier.  Actors, am I right?  Bill?  Bill Macy?  I first paid attention to him in Fargo.

As is very often — too often — the case, my first impressions are usually wrong, or will change.  Macy is so good in Shameless, but despite being the drunk patriarch of the Gallagher family, he’s almost the straight man to all the other characters and their stories.

The thing I like about it is that it highlights the complicated relationships in families.  Sure, you can say you’re going to cut out this or that family member, but they are still going to be there, waving to you occasionally in your mind, quietly being cut out.  For decades, if need be.  They can wait.

I also love the way the kids seek circumstances or individuals to teach them lessons their family “should have” taught them — unconditional love, integrity, forgiveness, you know.

I’m scared and sad for them when they get “hustled” by someone.  It must seem so easy to hustlers.  Everyone wants so badly to feel like the person they just met is different, trustworthy, or changed for all time by one stint in rehab.  Where has this person been?  Well, statistically speaking, probably hustling someone who else who finally caught on.  That’s where.  We, the collective naivete, need to heed this saying more than all others, “If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.”

I told my therapist that at this point in the journey, I’m scared.  I’ve said many things to her, but never that.  She said, “I would imagine.  You’re walking through the scariest part of your movie right now.  The circumstance you tried so desperately to avoid is happening right now.”

Well, that’s great.  I’m a scaredy cat.  She did add that I’m doing fine.