2011... Here I Come

2010 I guess looking back was about freeing myself.  I sold my safety net which was my house in the spring.  I never knew how much the back of my little head was holding on to the safety of it until it was gone.  I purged and let go of a ton of my possessions when we officially consolidated houses.  Up until then I was more of a visitor so far as my "stuff" was concerned.  My house just looked like I was maybe on extended vacation...all that was missing was my clothes.  Now that I'm squatting at the parental units beach place I have even less on the stuff scale.  I have very little and I want for even less.  I was getting a hard time at work the other week that I don't like things.  I said that I like plenty and it was requested that I name a few.  So for those of you that wonder what I like and what trips my little trigger here ya go.

Black and white pictures... I like the distance it creates from the distracting reality of color.

Wind chimes.

The beach...mid summer lying in a tidal pool or bundled up with not another soul in sight.

Daffodils...they make me giddy... I know the bull shit of winter is over.

The Wizard of Oz...play or the movie.  I can pin this one on my daddy.

Dogs and cats... Dogs more so than cats...being that my everyday life partner is one Mr Roger Dog.

Coffee

Anticipation.  It can be the greatest fear or the greatest turn on. 

Laughing out loud...when your by yourself or when someone says something surprisingly funny. I love surprisingly funny people.  I'm more the say what everyone is thinking girl on my own time.

A squishy mattress...my mattress from Nanner is by far the best hand me down of my life!!

Music and singing in the car to Roger.  I love shopping Itunes with a buzz...I come up with the greatest random shit.

Body boarding and playing like kid in the ocean.

Kisses...

Independent films and odd documentaries.

Living room dancing...by myself to my great random shit from buzzed music shopping.

Writing.  Getting things out of my head and onto paper is better therapy than money could ever buy.

Scuppernong wine.  I know...redneck.

Not being a grown up.  Regardless of the age of my human suit I take great pride in not taking the world seriously.

I've been trying to come up with some outlook for 2011...it hit me on the dog walk this morning.  I'm going to Live in the Moment...No Regrets...No Worries.  I'm sure that I will appear reckless to the outside viewer on occasion...consider this a warning.  Unlike some people I know that never have a thought that doesn't cross their lips...I'm much more internal.  There's an amazing amount of shit that bangs around in my head and never breaks the verbal seal.  I'm going to base decisions on Intuition and not analyze shit to death.  To borrow a song line from my most recent drunken Itunes venture.  I'm learning that life is just a leap of faith...You've got to spread your arms...hold your breath...and always trust your cape.

New Years morning I was standing at the kitchen counter eating lobster for breakfast.  I had white chocolate for dessert.  I said out loud to the dog "Fuck tradition...this is awesome".

Ranting, Gay Neighbors and Kitchen Creations

Why is all shit so hard?  I just got off the phone with a new dentist office. First off, I should explain why I'm on the prowl for a new dentist.  For sake of not getting myself into a slander law suit we'll let this cat remain nameless.  My first trip to see him I schedule because he's the only one that doesn't require xrays for a damn cleaning (but there is no free lunch). At the end of said cleaning he comes in, introduces himself, starts poking around in there, says something about nice teeth.  Then he asks if they are real...Um...you're the dentist...shouldn't you know??  He then proceeds to EYEBALL about 5 places that need filling...but "they are small so we won't even need Novocaine".  WTF.  I did a filling replacement one time without Novocaine.  I'm one tough chicky but trust me I used that as a learning experience and ain't gonna do it again.  I make a mental post it to find new dentist.  Luckily when I check out the computers are down and the tech guy is there trying to remove the porn, so I just say I'll call back for my appointment to fill the zillion cavities sans Novocaine.  Fast forward about 9 months cause who are we kidding I don't have dental insurance and every 6 months is just crazy talk.  I call around to get an appointment somewhere else only to be beat down by a self overrated receptionist.  Apparently the other option dentist won't even make you an appointment unless you agree to the xrays beforehand. 

F my life people!  I just want my teeth cleaned!!  So I'm back to the "are your teeth real guy"...again.  Fast forward to today.  Trying to set up the appointment somewhere new...yet again.  March is the soonest they can work me in.  So I book it, explain that I do not have insurance and ask how much money to bring. 275 fucking dollars.  Yo, I didn't ask when your car payment was due.  All you dentists stop poking me in the ass with your big dental dildo....I SAID I DON'T HAVE INSURANCE!! I don't want anything for free...just some nice lady to scrape the little shit off my teeth.  Not to mention if your next available appointment is in F-ing March I think you're already making bank off the insurees and you could cut me a break and skip the goddamn xrays!! I feel better now.  Giving up...gonna stick with the"are those real" guy.

Story from the trailerhood.  The stoner neighbors (pot smoking ones, not to be confused with the crackhead)have the most annoying dog ever. And you know me...I love, love, love animals but Sparky is wearing me out.  We have Sparky, Spot and Shorty...all within a block radius and all apparently with unimaginative parents.  Sparky though is gay.  Not gay like hey its my preference and I decorate and dress nicely, but like GAY all up in your face.  Poor Roger can't even step out the front door, walk or potty in peace.  This guy is all over him..trying to hump him and give head.  The head portion of the show has my dog WAY confused.  He's on the leash, I'm yelling "Just keep walking or bite the fucker!"  and he's looking at me like "I know its wrong but it feels good mom" all the while still  trying to walk.  Which I'm sure is difficult at best...I mean I can only imagine...I've never exactly tried to walk while getting head but I would guess its tough.  We finally loose him when Roger finally breaks away to pee, narrowly missing his head...we leave him licking the puddle.  Years of therapy ain't gonna help this dog...he's jacked up.

Finally...onto my rockin' culinary skills.  Last week, out of sheer necessity, I discovered a new lunch time treat.  My creativity flowed mainly because I was down to a pack of ramen noodles, one can of beef-a-roni, tuna and gatorade.  This is no exaggeration, trust  me.  It's not that I'm poor, it's just that  I possess the meal planning skills of the average everyday buzzard with ADD or possibly a drug addiction.  So I open the tuna, dump it in a bowl with some ranch dressing, shredded cheese and hot sauce. Even with no real groceries I still have a corner market on condiments.  Throw it in the microwave and eat it with some tostidos.  OMG I AM GENIUS!!  It's a Tuna Miracle Charlie Brown!!  Needless to say I went to the store for more tuna and have had it 3 more times since then. 
Watch out Martha Stewart...I'm hot on your tail chickadee.

Finally

This is attempt #3 of getting my angry Grinch thoughts on paper.  My first two sounded like whiny my pussy's broke melodramatics...and you know how I feel about that.  My realization came yesterday on the drive to work.  It's not the first time this week that I've said this, but its the first time I realized it also applies to me and my fa-la-la-la-la funk.  If you don't like something there are only 2 things you can do.  Either change your situation or change your mind.  I think it goes without saying that I can not change the situation of virginal birth nor the widespread two thousand some years of acceptance and the resulting over spending and hall decking and reindeers.  I have no other choice than to change my mind.  That does not mean that I'll be rushing out to hunt down the perfect million foot tall tree or load a shopping cart full of dust collectors for my great aunt so and so, my mail lady or my gynecologist.  Just that I am letting go of expectations.  Expectations of feelings...the same feelings that have always plagued this time of year for me.  I'm not going to rehash memories of past...I'm not going to try to avoid or ignore.  Just taking my hands off the wheel.

Oooh Oooh Blame Me...Blame Me

I for one and, almost exclusively, only do not have a single thing that causes me to point an accusing finger and shout "THIS IS FUCKED UP AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!!"  I am fully aware that although I seldom feel like it, I am an adult and I all by my wee little self create my life...the good and the questionable of it.  I am responsible...for Me.  That's unfortunately the extent of my magical super powers. 

It's been brought to my attention via email from Mr X that Mr Man's Ms X is on yet another tear.  This one as with all the others has one center of all gravitational pull.  Me.  What I'm sick of is sheep minded people crying over spilled milk, skunt knees and questionable relationships.   Shut up, stand up and everybody take responsibility for your own lives and your own choices.  The Heather has nothing to do with any of it.  I suppose it helps people feel better to be able to devoid themselves of any cause of the effect.  And maybe not looking in the mirror is therapeutic but you run the risk of walking out with you skirt tucked into your undies...and you wind up showing your ass.  I only wish I were as powerful and influencingly hypnotic as people claim that I am.  I feel sandwiched somewhere between being grateful that I'm not an idiot and are more enlightened than most and just wanting to swift kick the world in the f-ing nuts.

Once Upon A Time I Showed My Ass...Most Literally

Fuck my life...today ranked among the top 3 most embarrassing moments of my life.  And at the present I can't tell you the other two...or anything close as a matter of fact.  I went furniture shopping with Mr Man at the Ashley Furniture store.  I sat on almost every couch in the showroom.  After about an hour or so he landed on one that he liked, picked the coffee tables, rug and whatever and went off to do paperwork.  I found a fluffy chaise lounge and did a diving flop...that's the best guess I have of when it happened.  Of course true to form, I can only sit still for a second and got up and wandered about the store some more before coming back and waiting for him to finish up.  When I was headed to the front door...he's behind me and says "Oh my god, the ass of your pants is completely blown out"...now by completely, he actually meant COM-FUCKING-PLETELY...and proceeds to start the dog in cartoon laugh.  Out the front door and he is now fell over at the waist horse laughing my ass...literally.  Not a chance in hell that I'm wearing a shirt long enough to begin to cover it.  Wow.

A- How the fuck did this happen??

B- How in God's name can I be so blissfully unaware??

C- Yes those are my blue undies.

D- Guess in a way this is a good thing 'cause these fuckers were definitely not ass flattering...in hind sight..ha.

I'm sure that that somewhere in the back room they are drinking beer, rewinding and replaying the security tapes and peeing themselves.  I relive the whole scene to Nanner...telling her I can never go back in there and probably in all likelihood need to burn the shirt and hat I was wearing for fear of being recognized in public.  Nanner being the true friend that she is says "Hey if its one of your pink hats I'll take it." 

I think this is something like the Seinfeld episode where George is at the book store and takes the book into the bathroom and they make him buy it and its flagged as a bathroom reader so he can't return it.  Yea, so as soon as they figure out how to find me I'm going to be the proud owner of like 15 or so sofas.  Ya know...I can't make shit like this up.



Bath Mats & Stepping Stones

Sometimes I guess all you need to feel at home is a bath mat.  Warm fuzziness between you and some else's cold floors. Linoleum cock blocker of sort.  I met a neighbor today.  Spot's biped.  Spot is the Boston Terrier equivalent of Earnhardt reincarnated.  Last night we were pretty sure we were being attacked by the fastest raccoon on record, then the "SPOT" screaming commenced and I realized that I was safe and no longer needed lay down my life and heroically tackle a rabid 300 mph raccoon to save my dog. 

Spot's mom was missing at least 4 of the major 8 on the dental front.  She welcomed me to the neighborhood, excused her appearance since she had just removed her teeth and proceeded to warn me about the crackhead around the corner.  Pot...Kettle...Black.  I endured one cop / n epitaph story with a straight face and peaced out.  I asked Roger on the walk home to remind me we needed to get out of the trailer park and to floss before bed.

 At the same time I try to remember to never assume you know some one's story.  You have no idea why or how people manage to end up where they are...and it makes you a raging asshole to assume.  Maybe her story is as interesting or as boring as mine...Maybe so is the crack head's.  Don't get me wrong, I'm by no means ubber empathetic.  I just know that not every book can be judged by it's trailer park squatting cover. 

It's good to know that a fuzzy green bath mat makes you feel grounded.  And it's good to know that every step and every person in your life is there for a reason...some kind of stepping stone to get you to the next place where the fuzzy mat makes it feel like home...at least for a while.

Transition

Life blows.  I can't hear the voices that I rely on for guidance.  I have no idea what I'm doing or where I'm going.  I am for all intents and purposes homeless and I don't know whether this is my big chance to uproot, run and change my whole life or if it's just all a big fuck up.  Haven't felt this lost in a really really long time and I'm trying hard just to lean on myself, but self is scared. 

This was written a few weeks back when I was obviously obliviously in a panic.  I had just schlepped most of wearable belongings out of Mr Man's house and into my shu.  As is par for my life, I didn't have a pile of friends in it for beer or a well laid plan.  Just me dragging my shit around like Linus' tired old blanky.  I was feeling like the little girl that I am lost in a grown ups body.  I normally filter out this part of my existence.  I seldom get this way and even when I do I don't wear it around on my cuff for others to see.

I've since made some decisions and taken some steps that are making me feel a little more in control.  I've decided where I'm going to live, at least for the next few months, gotten a storage unit for some things that need to be swapped out and have gotten my mom to pack up about eleven hundred pounds of chatkas so I can breathe and move some of my own stuff into her beach house.  Can't claim homeless anymore and I'm no longer driving around with three quarters of my worldly tethers in the back of my car.  I guess we'll call that progress.  I am however completely incapable of giving any form of answer for my "plans".  There honestly aren't any...lots of thoughts still banging around in this rock hard gourd attachment, but nothing I'd label as a plan.  To bogart a line from CAP- "My life has no set trajectory and if I think about it too much it makes me panic"...some days.  And some days after a few rum drinks it almost makes me slightly giddy at the endless possibilities.

So here's to rolling with life...finding reasons to laugh out loud everyday...smiling over the simple things and the wide openness of my world to come.