A New Day....

Today I can smile and not feel like a liar.  Today I can laugh and not feel like I'm cheating on the rest of my soul.  There's no explanation really.  One day you're overwhelmed by life and grief and the next day you're feeling like you can take it on and be in control of it, instead of it controlling you.  I admire people who are strong enough to take control from the beginning.  Who don't have to remind themselves to breathe and never have to apologize for having a break down.  How do they do it?  Or do they just have enough control to show emotions only when they are in private?  Do they have emotions at all? 

Today is a "ME" day.  My husband has been encouraging me to do this since her passing but I haven't been up to it.  He will take care of all the responsibilities tonight - Kennedy's sports and homework and household chores.  I on the other hand will be visiting the salon for hair, nails and pedicure - sprinkled with a tanning visit.  A nice surprise.  RELAXATION.  De-stressing.  Or just distractions.  Either way, I woke up stronger today and am looking forward to it. 

Dear Reader - don't mistake this for a sudden healing and release of grief.  If you've ever dealt with a tragedy you'll understand that there are good days and there are bad ones.  This just happens to be a good one for me.  I'm hoping it stays a good one because you will also find that your days can intermingle and suddenly a good turns bad or the bad turns good.  You won't have any warning as to whether this emotional rollercoaster you're riding is going uphill or down.  You learn to just lift your hands, close your eyes, and let the waves hit you.  You deal with them as best you can and then face the next wave when it chooses to come.   Right now my wave is low and I'm able to stay above water. 

Interesting - I've been reminded twice this week already that I am not the only one who grieves.  It's everywhere.  Turn to your left or turn to your right - you will find someone grieving.  There's no need for the power of 6 - power of 2 will suffice I'm sure.  Whether it's an illness, a poor choice, or something totally out of their control, people are grieving everywhere.  Perspective.  Comes in small doses and is to be pondered and absorbed.   I have a friend who's son was married 2 years ago.  This young man is 26 years old and his wife gave birth to their first born a few months ago.  Her name is Ava.  Pretty.  His wife's name is Libby.  They're the kind of couple that belongs in the pages of Good Housekeeping or Woman's Day.  So young, so loving, and already living a life of dedication to helping others.  After college he chose a job of sacrifice rather than pay.  He is employed by Young Life and spends his days helping youth in every way possible.  After giving birth, sweet Libby had some aches and pains that she thought were part of the deal.  However, when they did not go away she decided a doctor's visit was necessary.  3 weeks later, after many tests and sleepless nights, Libby received the news that she has Stage 4 Hodgekin's Lymphoma.  She is choosing to keep faith in the fact that there is still hope for survival.  She is choosing to not waste this moment in her life and keeps a blog at http://libbyryder.blogspot.com if you want to read her amazing thoughts.  I read them every day.  Perspective.  It's what keeps me and many more from drowning in self-pity.  I want to be strong and amazing like Libby. 

This is me and Bonnie - one of our many trips.  We were smashed - someone was playing loud dance music - we made the most of the opportunity :)

These are my thoughts today on this good day.  And I will continue to think these thoughts as today turns into tomorrow.  Eventually, the grief will become smaller than the strength I am building.  Eventually I will learn to laugh at my memories with Bonnie.  Yes.  This is a good day. 

The Bag...

Today I cannot concentrate on ANYTHING.  THIS WEEKEND SUCKED!!!  My husband was sick.  REALLY sick.  So I had to attend the first Bitch Club outing alone.  When I say "first" I don't mean first as in the very first time I got together with this awesome group of friends.  I mean first as in "first outing since our dear friend Bonnie aka Vette Bitch was killed".  It was wonderful and it was awful.  Two of the girls that work with her were there and they had helped clean out her desk with another member of our little club.  I was so thankful to hear that they had brought me some things they thought I might want to have.  So thankful to receive something that I could keep with me that belonged to my dear sweet Bonnie.  Here comes the awful - Aside from a couple of random items that had special meaning and were very sweet, the bag was filled with things that I had given Bonnie.  It was like a punch in the gut.  I started to cry and then started to feel nauseated.  I hugged them all tightly and said thank you.  Then set the bag by my purse until I left at which time I put it safely in my trunk.  And left it there.  On the way home I was trying not to sob as I was driving alone.  This actually helped me stay in control and I was able to breathe and think beyond the bag.  When I got home I did not retrieve it.  I don't want to look at the bag.  I don't want to think about the bag.  Turns out that wasn't too hard because Saturday I woke up sick.  Thanks hubby.  I stayed in bed most of the day and couldn't think beyond trying to drink water and find something I felt would stay down if I ate it.  On Saturday there was no bag.  There was only sickness.  Sunday came and I felt extremely exhausted but really wanted to see the sunlight.  Brian helped me to the car and we went a few places, did a tiny bit of grocery shopping, and I knew it needed to get home.  Brian always puts me in the car and then loads up the trunk.  When we get home, he always tells me to go inside and he'll unload everything.  Even when I'm well.  But especially when I'm sic.  For me - on Sunday there still is no bag.    Yet.   

I'm feeling very weak so I lay on the couch for 20 minutes and then get up to make a small dinner for me and Brian.  Though I screw part of it up, it eventually turns out pretty good and we eat mustard crusted fish with parmesan broccoli and roasted dill potatoes.  Sounds fancy - very easy.  I eat while on the couch because I am so tired.  Brian takes my plate and I snuggle up.  Maybe I'll nap.  No bag.  No conscious thoughts.  I have been successful in forgetting it. 

Brian puts in a movie and tells me to fall asleep - it'll be good for me to get the rest.  However, the movie is good.  I'm awake.  It's called "The Joneses"  and actually is pretty interesting though I had never heard of it.  I'll try to be discreet now but there's no avoiding the next course of events:  Due to my weekend illness, I suddenly needed to use the bathroom in an urgent manner.  Great.  I get up - run to the guest bath on the 1st floor.  I'm good.  Relief.  Of course I'm anal about hand washing so after I wash up I walk slowly from the bath through the kitchen back to the family room as I'm still feeling blah.  I glance in the dining room and stop so suddenly it's like I ran into a clear glass wall that no one could see.  There is the bag.  Brian had lovingly brought it in and sat it in our formal dining room.  I have to breathe even as I type this reader because I cannot express appropriately how it feels to try so very hard to forget something and then have it thrown in your face again at some random moment without any opportunity to prepare.  I turn away.  I start to panic and tell myself to breath.  I go to the living room.  I climb back under the cover on the couch and say nothing to Brian. 

Fast Forward.  It's time for bed.  After the movie I have numbed my mind adequately with mindless television.  The bag won't leave.  It stays with me.  Along with the knowledge that Bonnie's work voicemail is turned off.  I cannot call at random moments during the day to hear her anymore.  Sick as it may sound - when you lose someone so suddenly it truly is helpful to be able to hear them for a while longer.  So now I cannot call to hear her anymore and there is the DAMN BAG on my dining table that I want nothing to do with.  How can I feel this way?  These are things that she touched, used, loved.  I feel myself getting pissed.  The kind of angry you feel when you want to scream and tell your family and those you love most to go to hell and leave you alone because you need a moment.  I go upstairs.  I lay in bed.  I don't share with Brian because I don't want to cry again.  I'm angry.  I want to scream, not cry.  As we snuggle in for the night Brian asks what I want him to set out in the morning for dinner.  I absent-mindedly ask him if there was leftover fish?  He says no.  I say, what?  NONE?  He says, well I packed the leftovers for lunch.  I go ballistic.  Why didn't you just say that in the beginning???  What??  Are you lying to me because you're afraid I'm going to want your precious lunch for myself????  This part, reader, I am completely embarrassed about.  I don't know how to explain my actions to myself much less to Brian or even to you.  I lost it.  I told him he was a deusch bag.  I told him I didn't understand why he would "Lie to me over stupid leftovers".  It got worse from there.  An hour goes by and I'm literally still fighting with my husband over nothing at all.  He even explains to me that he just thought I knew he would pack for his lunch like he does every day and that's all he meant.  Not good enough for me.  I go sit on my deck.  Suddenly a light goes off.  What the hell am I doing fighting with Brian when I'm angry at God. 

The literal damn that has been building since Friday night breaks.  I'm sobbing.  I go inside and find Brian in the family room.  I beg his forgiveness as I'm sobbing the truth of what's going on.  I can't hardly spit out the words because I'm wailing.  He grabs me and holds me and lets me sob and then sobs with me.  For some reason this is comforting.  I feel like because he is also crying he is understanding my pain.  I tell him how angry I am.  I tell him how I HATE that bag of things I gave to my friend.  He says he will put it away.  He says he will keep it put away until some time when I'm ready.  He says he will give it back to the girls to keep if I don't ever want to see it again.  He continues to hold me and we cry for a while. 

Then I realize that it's now going on midnight and poor Brian has a 5:30 am wake up.  I tell him to go to bed.  I go sit back on the deck and sob some more.  I say bad things to God then I take them all back.  I know it's a pity party.  I know that at some point this will ease.  I keep crying.  It's after midnight when suddenly Brian's by my side again holding me.  "Go To Bed!!" I say.  He says, "Don't want to without you.  I need to make sure you're okay."  After a few minutes I convince him I'm okay and tell him to please go to bed and I will be up shortly.  He says okay.  I think of Bonnie and all the crazy things we have done together.  This is a picture of her posing in the hot tub on one of our cabin trips after a large bottle of wine drank through a straw..... that night we were soooooo sexy......

I sit on the deck alone and suddenly Ben comes home.  Ben is my 20 year old son.  He sees me and comes to the deck and instantly knows I'm crying and why.  He hugs me tight - sits next to me and holds my hand.  Listens for a while and just keeps telling me how sorry he is.  I realize I'm surrounded by good men who love me.  I'm so sorry I took it out on Brian.  I'm fortunate in friends and in family.  I'm blessed beyond measure in life and this begins to calm me.  I remember to breathe.  I will make it through this terrible sadness.  Maybe today will be a better day.  Maybe tomorrow will be worse.  I will make it through.  And maybe some day - and it doesn't have to be this week or next, this month or 6 from now, this year or 2012 - but some day, I'll be thankful for the bag.  But today, for right now, I want to forget there is a bag.  I want to forget that Bonnie isn't enjoying my silly presents from over the years.  I want to forget that I am now the only Bitch in the club who likes V8 in the morning because she is gone.  I want to forget the f'ing bag exists.  I hate the bag.

ENDINGS....

First:  So my fear of blood work has ended for another year.....even though when I went last night to get it drawn they were open (thank God) but the phlebotomist had left already...WTH????  So I slept fitfully all night and got up this morning heading directly there.  The lady smiled and chatted like I was 10 (for which I was very appreciative) and then stuck the needle clear through my vein.  I yelled.  Words that were not nice.  She deserved it.  She actually said to me...and I quote....for real....this is a direct quote....."When they said VEINS you thought they said TRAINS and passed up the offer".  Seriously?  Wasn't there a similar saying in the 2nd grade about BRAINS????   How about you take your 50 year old @ss back to school and re-learn how to stick somebody because apparently your 30 years of experience hasn't taught you how to WATCH WHAT YOUR DOING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Second:  So tonight I am getting together with the group of girls called the Bitch Club.  The group that Bonnie was so very much an integral part of.  We are going to go through all of our photos collectively and share extra copies and begin organizing them for albums.  Personally, I am going to make a book.  I cannot wait to have it finished.  However, I am beginning to realize that the ending of her life is going to be a much longer grieving periods than a few weeks.  It's exhausting. 


Third:  IT'S FRIDAY!!!!  I need this week to end.  What do I have going on tomorrow and Sunday.  NOT ONE THING!!!!!  Maybe I'll clean.  Maybe I won't.  Maybe I'll cook or maybe I'll get takeout.  Maybe I'll go shopping or maybe I'll sit my fat ass in bed all day watching movies!  The possibilities are endless!!!!!  One thing that you can be sure of - I will have adult beverages a plenty :)

Another day of fear.....

So yesterday I waited through the entire day full of fear with regards to my blood work.  I know that everyone is waiting anxiously to hear what happened.  I'll tell you.  I drive all the way to Mt. Zion Rd (because the lab is conveniently located 2 miles from my house) and as I'm getting closer my heart starts pounding.  Kinda like I just ran four miles...HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!  Dear  Reader - certainly you don't believe I know what it's like to run four miles do you???  I don't.  Anyway, my heart is pounding like I'm the only one home and I heard a door creak somewhere in the dark - yeah - that's better - I know how that feels.  I make it to the parking lot and pull in but something looks funny - there's only 2 cars here.  Hmmm....must be a slow day.  My doctor told me she was "sure" they were open until 6:30 in the evening.  I walk up to the front door on legs that are wobbling just like a weeble - you know - weebles wobble but they don't fall down? - I make it.  What do I see?  Etched carefully in the glass door are the business hours.  Alas - they ARE opened until 6:30 pm every day.  Every day except TO-F'N-DAY!!!!  So I pretended to be totally pissed off all the way down the 2 miles to my house because I had driven soooooooooooo far out of my way on the ONE day they close early.  Secretly, my heart rejoiced.  I felt like a young girl again dancing and skipping across an open field of daisies.....because I know what that feels like too......yeah....  Anyway, I wake up this morning at 5:45am.  What is the first thing I think of???  CRAP!  Today I have to get blood work done.  The trembling has already begun. 

5 Nurses and My Mommy.....

On my way to have blood work done. UGH! I know I shouldn’t be such a baby about it. Seriously – I’ve told enough kids that they better straighten up because it’s just a little prick and if they suck it up and be strong I will by them an ice cream. That’s how it’s done, right? When they diagnosed my son Ben with diabetes, it took 5 nurses and me to hold him down because they had so much blood work to do. 10 years old he was. Strong F’n 10 year old is all I’m saying. Screaming at the top of his lungs for mommy to please make it stop. I remember that moment like it was yesterday and it still takes my breath away. So I wonder what they would do if I walked into the St. Elizabeth lab in Union and told them that I was there to get my blood work done, could they please round up 6 nurses to hold me down because I did not bring my mother. If I scream for mommy to make it stop would they think less of me? I absolutely HATE having to have blood drawn. I will never be a good candidate for a Hoxworth’s Blood Drive. Five nurses and my mother will not come with me. I’m sure of it.

Distraction....

I went to my best friend's house after work today.  She wasn't there.  For the first time I realized that she was never coming back and the hurt in my heart is almost too much to bear.  I was so extremely tense going there that I actually lost my way.  WTH???  Who hasn't been to their BFF's house enough times to know how to get there without getting lost????  Then I yelled at my husband on the phone - so not cool.  I'm the distracted one who drove past the exit.  It took me almost an hour to drive what should have been a 15 minute drive.  Distraction.  It's becoming common place these days.  Her daughter is leaving for college tomorrow.  I went because I felt the need to hug Mance (Samantha) goodbye because her mom isn't there to do that anymore.  I gave her a lame sterling silver necklace and earring set - as if a $50 piece of jewelry will make any difference.  She probably has a million but I didn't know what else to give her and that's when I realized - you always tell your friends that if something happens to them you will help take care of their family.  WTF????  I have no clue what size Mance wears - I just know she's beautiful.  I don't know what her favorite colors are or if she likes chicken tettrazini as much as her mom does.....I don't know shit about her other than her mom was so extremely proud of her and that she is an extremely smart and talented young woman who actually has her head on perfectly straight.  I look at Mance, Todd (her husband) and Clay (her son) and they look like they're holding it together.  Maybe better than I am.  Are they pretending as much as me???  Everything looks the same.  She'd be proud of how they're "making it".  We chat about nothing - while saying everything.  In my head I'm thinking things I'm trying not to say out loud.  In my head I'm screaming - she's gone and I'm so sorry!  But they know.  My husband - sweet Brian who is trying so hard to be "there" - says to me for the third time in the past week - just breathe.  Take another breath.  Right now that's all you can do.  This will pass and you'll be okay.  I don't know if this one will pass.  I'm thankful for new friends and for family that have been around to distract me.  Distractions.  Sometimes a blessing and sometimes a pain in the ass.  I appreciate the moments where I'm laughing.  I dread the moments where I'm crying again.  I thank God every time I think of her that I had her in my life.  I yell at no one in particular every time I'm pissed that I will never hug her, see her, talk to her, laugh at her, sing with her, eat with her, drink with her, swim with her - no one to play volleyball with anymore.  Brian's calling from the other room.  Distractions.....

Total Eclipse of the Popsicle……

Turnaround, every now and then I get a

little bit afraid when I see her coming ‘round

Turnaround, Every now and then I get a

little bit tired of listening to the sound of her voice

Turnaround, Every now and then I get a

little bit nervous that she’s standing in my space

Turnaround, Every now and then I get a

little bit terrified when I see the look in her eyes

Turnaround scary eyes, Every now and

then you fall apart

Turnaround scary eyes, Every now and

then you let a fart (sorry – it’s what rhymed)



Turnaround, Every now and then I get a

little bit restless cause I’m scared we’ll have to talk

Turnaround, Every now and then I get a

little bit helpless and I'm lying to your face that I care

Turnaround, Every now and then I get a

little bit angry ‘cause you just won’t shut your mouth

Turnaround, Every now and then I get a

little bit terrified ‘cause I see you walking my way

Turnaround bright eyes, Every now and

then you fall apart

Turnaround bright eyes, Every now and

then you let a fart



And I wish you’d leave tonight

And I wish it more than ever

And if you'll only leave my sight

I can forget you then forever

And you’ll only be making it right

Cause we'll never be right together

But you will take it to the end of the line

Your presence is like a cancer on us all of the time

I don't know what to do and you’re always in the dark

Even when you finally leave this place will have a mark



I wish you’d leave tonight

Forever's gonna start tonight

Forever's gonna start tonight

Changes...

So we don't all stay young forever right?  My husband's famous excuse to everyone who questions the fact  that he's 16 years older than me is to say:  You're only as old as you feel and I'm feeling great!  Well I'm so very glad that he is so very healthy and will probably outlive all of our children because he is so freakingly freakishly fantastically healthy and energetic.  WTF.  However, the fact that I feel as if I'm getting ready to celebrate my 75th birthday is causing an issue.  For me at least.  Brian would never say anything.  Remember - he's concerned for his health.  Nevertheless, I have no clue what it is that suddenly turns the light bulb on over your head when for three years you've ignored your health completely - but suddenly I see light.  And I see clearly.  And I absolutely HATE what I see.  So instead of  having a fantastic pity party - the kind where you sit and eat all sorts of junk food and say I'll start my diet tomorrow - I set a doctor's appointment for a checkup and started Body For Life with a friend at work.  Much easier to get yourself into the mode of changing your life when you have someone who is also working towards the same thing.  However - when her goal is to lose 10 pounds and your goal is to lose 100 pounds it can be a bit discouraging.  But I will trudge onward and by my next birthday be a shadow of my former self. 

Secrets.....

What a weekend.  If I dared to share every detail you would be utterly bored and this posting would go on forever.  I'll try to avoid that.  The highlights - a sore throat that I woke with on Saturday and still plagues me.  Yuck.  Sunday - Hunter.  For almost 8 hours.  This weekend grandpa was his favorite and he shouted it for everyone to hear as we shopped around Sam's club.  However, when he's sleepy "Gigi" is who he loves best and so I settle for that.  Hugging my neck as he sleeps on my shoulder.  I never want to give him back.  And then he wakes up 2 hours later and runs through the house causing terror.  What is it?  Time to take him home?  Ahhhhhhhhh - the joys of being a grandparent.  Sunday night - Kennedy asking me if she can talk to me privately.  Uh-oh are the first thoughts.  I go up to her room and she shuts the door.  This is serious.  So we talk about something that has hurt her feelings.  We cry together and hug.  I tell her that I'm always here for her - she says she knows.  I thank her for sharing with me what's going on.  She tells me there's more.  Another secret.  I must promise first to tell no one.  I cross my heart.  She has a boyfriend.  Her first real one she explains as everything else was just a 1 or 2 week junior high episode she says.  I smile and hope that she can't hear the screaming inside my head.  She tells me his name.  How they met.  How he asked her.  Tells me he's very funny - everyone thinks so.  Tells me that if I tell dad or the brothers she will just die.  In my head I think "no - if I tell dad and the brothers then the new boyfriend will die and you will be safe."  She is 14.  A freshman.  She is not allowed to go out on a date with a boy.  However, he is a boyfriend and she knows that she is only allowed to "talk" to him and "go" with him - though they go nowhere.  She admits - he has held her hand.   I'm squeamish though smiling all the time.  I "act" excited for her and, again, I thank her for sharing with me what's going on in her life.  I promise once more that I will not tell dad or the 4 brothers, but tell her that soon she must tell Dad.  I tell her that I cannot keep a secret from him very long.  She promises to tell him some time this week.  We agree that I won't say anything - that it must come from her.  I kiss her goodnight and tell her how much I love her which is our ritual.  The phone is ringing.  I grab it - it's my beloved friend Penny.  My good behaviour this weekend went south as I grabbed a bottle of wine and we talked about precious Bonnie - our BFF who was taken from us too soon.  We talk, we cry.  Make promises to talk tomorrow.  Bedtime.  Brian's shoulder.  More tears and then blessed sleep.  Today is a new day.  A good day.  I realize that not all posts are going to be humorous. 

The Second....

So I'm sure you've already made a mental note asking yourself if I'm seriously going to name my posts by their corresponding number each and every day.  Shut up already.  I'm new to this so I have not figured out crazy, engaging or tear jerking titles that will surely grab the reader's attention.  My name is not Hazel.  And while some of you will not know who Hazel is, be certain she is quite the crafty speaker/writer and always has an interesting twist to everything.  Irritating to say the least. 

Anyway.  In my previous blog I dared to tempt mother nature by predicting my evening beginning with that particular moment in time and following my activities through bedtime.  What an idiot I am.  Last night I did, indeed, go home to a perfectly cooked piece of salmon (if I don't say so myself) but the hubby preferred a garden salad and baked potato to my ceasar option.  My universe unraveled at that very moment.  I catered to his request as he opened the bottle of wine.  Chardonnay - because I can't drink red wine with fish.  Seriously?  If you fell for that ask the person beside you to smack you.  I drink any kind of wine at any point in time as long as it's set in front of me.   Do I digress?  No.  This will all tie together shortly.  Settle down. 

So as hubby opened the wine and poured a rather large amount into the stemless wine glasses we use (yes we use them because there have been too many drunken moments and spills on the white carpet) I began chopping veggies and eventually sipping the wine.  Funny thing though - I was not finished chopping veggies for our salad just yet when my wine glass appeared to be empty.  I innocently looked at Brian and asked him if he had mixed our glasses and drank my wine.  He smiled graciously, patted my back, and said no honey but it's no problem - we have plenty.  Thus he refilled my glass which stayed full just long enough for me to finish putting our dinner together. 

Now at this point in time I've had two large glasses of wine.  What is wrong with that you say?  Nothing.  I was feeling pretty sensational and realized that - jeesh - after just two bites of my yummy salmon I'm suddenly full.  But hey!  I need more wine and look at that - Brian does too!  I selflessly offered to open a new bottle and refill our glasses.  Brian was very pleased that I was showing so much kindness and accepted my offer immediately.  He continued eating - I opened more wine and poured.  I sat back at the table and chatted like a teenager for the next 15 minutes as Brian ate and I did not.  He has the BEST idea.  Screw the dishes for now - let's go sit on the deck and enjoy our evening.  What????  Don't do the dishes?????  Gosh honey - you get a big fat kiss for that one.  Now reader - please don't think I'm under playing when I say big and fat.  Brian was extremely grateful that when I bent over I totally missed his mouth and ended up planting a big wet one on half of his face.  Thank our Lord above he was still in a sitting position because clearly we would have ended up on the floor.  Wow!  All I could say was - you guessed it - Wow!  I can't believe I almost fell can you?  Again, my loving husband smiled and patted me gently while saying, Honey - let me carry your wine for you as you go to the deck.  Gosh what a great guy. 

Soon we are on the deck enjoying our wine immensely but what's this???  Suddenly - at the same moment my son arrives home with his girlfriend.  I notice, much to my dismay, that yet another glass of wine is gone - but God has sent me Ben who immediately offers to run and get me another glass.  I love Ben.  Ben is my favorite.  I said this to him again and again and again so he would be sure to remember. 

Now at this point reader - my night begins to become fuzzy.  I can simply tell you there was yet a third bottle of wine opened and apparently I decided to switch to red - because I thought I had had too much white and I knew that it would be bad to have too much white.  So I switched from Chardonnay to Shiraz and was grateful that my good thinking would save me in the morning.  I do know that at one point my sweet Kennedy came home and hugged me.  I told her that I loved her and that she was my favorite - just 4 times - but that she cannot at any cost tell Ben because surely his feelings would be hurt.........with a big wink at Brian.  See reader?  I am sooooooo smart!  Ben will never know!!!!

Finally my hubby told me it was almost midnight.  Gosh - I feel a little unstable.  He asked if I was finished with my wine.  Of course not I immediately yelled!  I'll take it to bed with me.  But wait?  Where's yours?  What?  You did not drink that last bottle with me???????????????  Needless to say he helped me up the stairs and off to dreamland I went!!

This morning you ask?  I stumbled into the bathroom to get a look at my awesome purple teeth, grab a bottle of water out of the mini fridge along with the bottle of tylenol and stumbled back to bed for another half hour.  WTH?  I didn't even get a good trip to Narnia for the price of this headache.  I will NEVER open another bottle of wine again.  NEVER!!!  Of course until my husband calls and asks if we're meeting for happy hour.  THE PRESSURE OF IT ALL!

The First....

So this is my first - meaning that clearly I am a blog virgin.  I'm not sure why I've imagined that my words are worthy - but alas you are reading my blog thus validating the psychotic moment in which I thought this was a good idea.  Have I lost you yet? 

Let's jump in -

Already today there has been a particular someone that I barely know raking that rather large nerve I have to the point where I had to focus on the voice inside my head telling me to calm down.  I had to focus rather hard because there was that other voice inside my head telling me that I should effectively tell this person to shut the hell up as I do not care what he/she has to say and for that matter neither does anyone else.  Do I sound angry? I'm not.  Simply put, there are people in the world that I like and people that I do not like.  If you think I'm a bitch it's just because you haven't admitted out loud that you feel the exact same way.  Be careful before you throw stones while living in your glass house. 

I'll save self description and my view on life for other blogs on down the road when I'm not so new to proper blogging etiquette.  By the way, is there such a thing?  I'm sure there is.  It would seem as if you have to tippy toe around just about everything in life in order to avoid hurt feelings and to make sure you are politcally correct.  Screw being politically correct. 

Today I'll only speak of today.  Unfortunately for you, reader, there isn't much to share about today.  I'll work and go home.  When I get home I will inevitably drink a glass of wine (or 20) with the salmon ceasar salad I plan on having for dinner.  Wine.  Ahhhh.  There's something to talk about.  For me it doesn't have to be expensive or french.  I prefer australian and dry.  Shiraz.  Yellow Tail or Alice White are the most common on my table.  If it's too hot for red wine I'll most definitely partake of Chardonnay but it is still Australian and still Yellow Tail or Alice White.   If you think that an $8 bottle of wine is too cheap for you and will give you a headache then please recuse yourself from this blog.  You're full of shit and I don't like you. 

So after I finish dinner I'll straighten this or that and probably settle at the kitchen table with the latest piece of mail from Publisher's Clearing House.  I am the next winner.  Take that smile off of your face before I slap you.  I am the next winner.  Already the probability numbers have been cut in half.  Instead of 1 in 700million I am now 1 in 350million.  I am the next winner.  When they are at my door handing me that check I will think of you and your doubtful thoughts.  Did you hear me?  I am the next winner. 

After I finish carefully filling out my entry form and getting it ready to mail I will snuggle on the couch with my hubby and watch whatever is on television for this is a rare night when I do not have to run to the store, pick up someone from a school function, or handle some un-planned crisis for a family member.  Tonight I am not needed.  Undoubtedly, 9 o'clock will come around and Kennedy, my daughter, will roll into the house yelling goodbye to her friends who drop her off, and create enough noise to arouse Bella (our lazy lab) to chase for a few minutes before she acknowledges "the rents" as she call us.  "Hey Rents" she will say and then sit on the couch shoving her way between us to tell us about her day and eat whatever snack Brian has on his lap.  Then surely her phone will ring and as she answers it she'll jump up and run up the stairs yelling that she'll be getting her shower.  She exhausts me.  A few more minutes of television, then I'll trample up the stairs to do the bedtime maintenance - which STRICTLY consists of brushing the teeth, washing the face and finding a rerun of SVU that I can fall asleep to.  I am old.   

Cheers - maybe tomorrow we'll chat again.