Not that anyone reads this blog, but I think we need a glossary! Therefore, I will compose one now, while Dude fusses about how he's only had six hours to get his homework done.
Stud - the stud to whom I am married. We have been married since 1990.
Junior - my firstborn, male, high school, chick magnet.
Sunny/Sunshine - my middle child, female, high school, Antichrist according to male siblings.
Dude - My youngest, male, middle school, constant antagonist to Junior.
FIA - Fistula in Ano, what I call an undesirable person, specifically the heifer with whom I built a nice business and she legally and immorally stole the whole thing. I swear, I need to get over this. We're now past a year and I still flip her off if I see her online.
Shit, fuzzy fuck - The all-occasion, best combination of swear words ever. In loving memory of a former patient with Pick's disease, who chanted this down all five halls of a nursing home for which I worked.
"Fluffy" blog - My primary blog, where everyone sees the good side of my life and some of the bad, but not like here. I can't be free there. I can't voice my opinions without shocking my family, or having them put me back on the prayer chain and encourage psychological care that I really don't need. They stayed away from that blog because I did something without humor; i.e., I posted about my father and it made them cry, so it's now all fluff and stuff that affected me but doesn't involve family. I deal to some extent; they don't deal at all, IMO.
Ovis Ovis - Business manager, CEO, managing partner, majority shareholder, creative guru, business consultant - however he wants me to sign his correspondence for the day. A gentleman with a lot of brains and cash flow, but not a knack for picking out proper help to support his endeavors. He also hasn't paid me well, including some bills that are two years old.
Heifer - The inmate running the asylum for Ovis Ovis' business that I'm directly connected with. Not a nice person. I hate her so much that I've purposely made my billing system so complex that it will take 15 minutes of her time to figure out if I've cheated her 10 cents on a day. I'll hear about about the 10 cents; I never hear about the fact that I always subtract 7 cents' worth from the total per day :) I have to fuck with her mind a bit LOL
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
One person's beer belly is another person's treasure...
I'm musing on something this morning, something strange but true. I am thinking oh-so fondly of Stud's beer belly, which didn't come from drinking beer, but from my lack of cooking healthy cuisine.
I love the damn thing. I tried to tell one of my sisters that, and she just couldn't fathom it. But, when I bend just a tad (Stud is 6'3"), I can rest my head right where it starts, and it supports my cheek perfectly.
I love it, probably because I had a major hand in creating it.
He also refuses to wear a shirt, so I guess I'm quite used to it. It's summer, it's hot, and he's in shorts, so he has a butt crack, too. I know it's silly, but we've been married 16 years. I think it's funny and, depending on what time or mood I catch him in, we like it when I touch the top of it and say, "Say no to crack."
Okay, stupid. Maybe not. Maybe it's just being comfortable with what we are.
Junior's now halfway around the world. Once the plane landed and he called, my stomach loosened. I swear, I didn't know my stomach had pretzel-like abilities!
INTERESTING NOTE: I don't want to read too much into this, and I hate it that it piques my interest so much, but the boss for one MY entities that FIA couldn't touch is having me type correspondence FIA should be typing. I found that interesting, to say the least. I hope he doesn't want to give me back the one she stole. I don't have time for it. Period. No time.
I love the damn thing. I tried to tell one of my sisters that, and she just couldn't fathom it. But, when I bend just a tad (Stud is 6'3"), I can rest my head right where it starts, and it supports my cheek perfectly.
I love it, probably because I had a major hand in creating it.
He also refuses to wear a shirt, so I guess I'm quite used to it. It's summer, it's hot, and he's in shorts, so he has a butt crack, too. I know it's silly, but we've been married 16 years. I think it's funny and, depending on what time or mood I catch him in, we like it when I touch the top of it and say, "Say no to crack."
Okay, stupid. Maybe not. Maybe it's just being comfortable with what we are.
Junior's now halfway around the world. Once the plane landed and he called, my stomach loosened. I swear, I didn't know my stomach had pretzel-like abilities!
INTERESTING NOTE: I don't want to read too much into this, and I hate it that it piques my interest so much, but the boss for one MY entities that FIA couldn't touch is having me type correspondence FIA should be typing. I found that interesting, to say the least. I hope he doesn't want to give me back the one she stole. I don't have time for it. Period. No time.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Early morning Lewny body dementia...
2:30 a.m.: I quit buying sweets. That means I must be inventive. That means that, in desperation, one will create her own icing recipe with melted butter, a splash of milk, a squirt of vanilla (it's in a plastic flip-top tube, my preference), and powdered sugar. Mix and serve. Shit fuzzy fuck, I'm going to be a happy diabetic with lung cancer.
3:35 a.m.: I can't write. It's not writer's block; no, it's the worst curse to the writer, the deflated and fleeting self-confidence, the little voice in the back of the head that says, OMG, even ___________ is better than you. Cripes, and her last book was awful. That demon is the worst to get off your back. Usually, to kick his arse off, I read some of the other books I've written, and convince myself I'm not so bad. I still have to write that freakin' synopsis.
My kid's on the west coast, bound for halfway across the world. I'm sitting here fretting. He sounded like he was having a good time when he called earlier. I hope he is. I wanted this so much for him.
3:50 a.m.: I'm posting while I'm trying to work again. It just works better this way. I have such random ideas flying through my head, such as:
'Kay. You asked me to shave IT for years. I finally do shave IT. I reaped no benefit from it, despite your fascination with the fact that I needed to shave IT. Now, of course, unless I shave IT, I have the squirmies about five days later. Honestly, I think your sex drive went down as soon as I shaved! I have NEEDS, babe. NEEDS.
4:05 a.m.: He used to at least rub my head in the morning if he saw me up. No "good morning," either.
4:32 a.m.: I don't like this guy. He speaks a mile a minute, and I get paid by that minute. Smoking fingers, low income on this one. Fark.
5:26 a.m.: I just got done talking to Stud. He was very happy to see me and chastised me for not coming in earlier. We talked and watched videos about planes taking/off landing from the airport where my son will leave. Nerves. I have nerves. And they're all firing! Junior's supposed to call me before he takes off. I want someone to snap his pic with his cell and him send it to me. I don't care if it costs $12.
I am much happier now...until I have to shave IT again.
6:08 a.m.: Nearly time to get the kiddos up. Dude woke up by alarm yesterday morning. Sunshine got up on her own, before her alarm. I have to help her do her makeup today. Picture day, y'know. Her eyes are shaped very beautifully, nearly Asian in configuration, so she has to sit and let the mascara dry for a few minutes before she moves. Those lashes have blonde tips, so they seem to stretch for miles when mascara-ized. I remember last year, the first time we put makeup on together in the bathroom of my aunt's apartment building. It was a real Zen moment, let me tell you, and she's enough like her momma to realize what a chore it is, and she'd rather go without. I wasn't like that in junior high. I would've begged to wear makeup (and did), so when I got to high school, I wouldn't be caught dead without it. I like Sunny's perspective on things better. She has her own sense of style (comfortable), and friends (funny and friendly), hair (out of shower and go!), and everything. She's so sensible, yet, she's so flamboyant with her personality, and it shines.
Dude's raring to go with school. We'll see how long it lasts, but I'll take his enthusiasm while I can get it. He does have the coolest teacher known to mankind. Hands down. Mr. S has been a part of all three kids' lives, and we all find him to be incredible (and a father of five GIRLS. GIRLS. My estrogen's bad enough for this household).
6:45 a.m.: Dude's enthusiasm ended. Too good to be true. I sicced Sunny on him, though. As I left the room, she log-rolled him to the other side of the bed and started jumping on the mattress. I expect Dude to be downstairs shortly.
...and he is. Good night, all.
3:35 a.m.: I can't write. It's not writer's block; no, it's the worst curse to the writer, the deflated and fleeting self-confidence, the little voice in the back of the head that says, OMG, even ___________ is better than you. Cripes, and her last book was awful. That demon is the worst to get off your back. Usually, to kick his arse off, I read some of the other books I've written, and convince myself I'm not so bad. I still have to write that freakin' synopsis.
My kid's on the west coast, bound for halfway across the world. I'm sitting here fretting. He sounded like he was having a good time when he called earlier. I hope he is. I wanted this so much for him.
3:50 a.m.: I'm posting while I'm trying to work again. It just works better this way. I have such random ideas flying through my head, such as:
'Kay. You asked me to shave IT for years. I finally do shave IT. I reaped no benefit from it, despite your fascination with the fact that I needed to shave IT. Now, of course, unless I shave IT, I have the squirmies about five days later. Honestly, I think your sex drive went down as soon as I shaved! I have NEEDS, babe. NEEDS.
4:05 a.m.: He used to at least rub my head in the morning if he saw me up. No "good morning," either.
4:32 a.m.: I don't like this guy. He speaks a mile a minute, and I get paid by that minute. Smoking fingers, low income on this one. Fark.
5:26 a.m.: I just got done talking to Stud. He was very happy to see me and chastised me for not coming in earlier. We talked and watched videos about planes taking/off landing from the airport where my son will leave. Nerves. I have nerves. And they're all firing! Junior's supposed to call me before he takes off. I want someone to snap his pic with his cell and him send it to me. I don't care if it costs $12.
I am much happier now...until I have to shave IT again.
6:08 a.m.: Nearly time to get the kiddos up. Dude woke up by alarm yesterday morning. Sunshine got up on her own, before her alarm. I have to help her do her makeup today. Picture day, y'know. Her eyes are shaped very beautifully, nearly Asian in configuration, so she has to sit and let the mascara dry for a few minutes before she moves. Those lashes have blonde tips, so they seem to stretch for miles when mascara-ized. I remember last year, the first time we put makeup on together in the bathroom of my aunt's apartment building. It was a real Zen moment, let me tell you, and she's enough like her momma to realize what a chore it is, and she'd rather go without. I wasn't like that in junior high. I would've begged to wear makeup (and did), so when I got to high school, I wouldn't be caught dead without it. I like Sunny's perspective on things better. She has her own sense of style (comfortable), and friends (funny and friendly), hair (out of shower and go!), and everything. She's so sensible, yet, she's so flamboyant with her personality, and it shines.
Dude's raring to go with school. We'll see how long it lasts, but I'll take his enthusiasm while I can get it. He does have the coolest teacher known to mankind. Hands down. Mr. S has been a part of all three kids' lives, and we all find him to be incredible (and a father of five GIRLS. GIRLS. My estrogen's bad enough for this household).
6:45 a.m.: Dude's enthusiasm ended. Too good to be true. I sicced Sunny on him, though. As I left the room, she log-rolled him to the other side of the bed and started jumping on the mattress. I expect Dude to be downstairs shortly.
...and he is. Good night, all.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
What could have been...
It would've been 40 years of marriage today. Mom still misses you, Dad. So do we. I have one of your pics from your pilot days as my computer desktop background.
I know it was May 1, 2003, when you left us, but it still hurts, and always will. I know I wasn't the greatest daughter in the world, but thank you for making it all right with me before you had to go.
I love you, Daddy. The kids have grown so much. They all remember you, and remember you as you were before the cancer took all that was you and turned it into what you were at the last of it all.
I know it was May 1, 2003, when you left us, but it still hurts, and always will. I know I wasn't the greatest daughter in the world, but thank you for making it all right with me before you had to go.
I love you, Daddy. The kids have grown so much. They all remember you, and remember you as you were before the cancer took all that was you and turned it into what you were at the last of it all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
