Back in the Faraway Married Land

The other night I had a married land flash back, it occurred when I proactively set up my coffee for the next morning. I was draggin' ass like a poodle with worms and was fully aware of my next morning need for caffeine to make it to Bob. And it happened, I Hot Tub Time Machine transported back to another lifetime. Every night in my semi buzzed stupor I would load the coffee pot, set out 2 upside down cups balancing the little required sweeteners and spoon on the bottoms. Frying pan on the stove with spatula, spray olive oil, plate with folded paper towel beside. Plates and knives and forks at the bar stools. A cereal bowl with either instant oatmeal or grits based on the previous day's consumption. This was everyday. I didn't do it because I was required, I did it just to keep myself sane. Although seeing it in print doesn't seem so much so now. Pancake Saturdays and omelet Sundays.


I would come home from work and the gym and throw the ball for Roger. Drag my little hose across the yard to the flowers and pick weeds and dead blooms and water and throw and drink. And drink. Then I would light the grill and domesticate further. A phone call would eventually come requesting bath water for the off spring and I would put food on plates and plates on the bar. I trimmed twisty trees to be twisty. I made mosaic flower pots. I picked up sticks in the wheel barrow from the gazillion shedding fucking trees, then I'd mow. And drink.

I was very content. Content because I'm always content when I spend time alone. Honestly it was better than when they were around. But I was always waiting for Someday. Someday when I could move to the beach and not have to deal with baby moma drama and a mouthy 11 year old. When I didn't have to fold paper towels just so or turn cans in the pantry a certain way to feel in control of my life.

One day it just became too much, I quit running the bath water and I quit plating the food. I quit eating the omelets. I realized I had gotten completely and totally lost...nothing of my life was Me. I tried to remember who I was before I fell into this pseudo stepford existence. It was handled badly to say the least, it's hard when you jerk the proverbial domesticated rug out from under someone, I may as well have spun the world off its axis.

I cried when I picked Roger's toys up from the yard when we moved out. Instead of admitting it was a stepping stone we rode it so far into the ground that it's taken me 3 years to remember any of the good. Not a very adult way of going about things I'm sure.

All of this because I put coffee in the maker the night before.

p.s. I still will not touch omelets.

Bad Beagles...Bad Sniff

Roger wanted to do a guest blog, but between the oppossing thumb issue and all of his words starting with R's we thought it best that I just do a recap for him.  My very attractive boy bird dog with the feather boa plume of a tail got rolled by two vacationing hater beagles.  Yes, beagles...of all dogs to get your ass kicked by...beagles.  Of course my maternal instincts kicked in and I immediately wanted to break out all trailer park in the trailer park and go kick some Ohio beagle ass but fortunately I lost my steam before day light.  Which is much the way with me...note to self there folks if you ever make me batshit crazy livid (an almost impossilbe feat minus rolling my dog) just get away from me and in almost no time it will loose it's legs (no need in worrying if I will chainsaw the pilons of your waterfront house Mr X).  So outside of feeling bad because I raised a gay dog and that he took on my passive (aggressive) personality there are no scars to show.  They didn't really hurt him...just pushed him around on the playground a little.  I've been there, trust me, and I lived through it too.  Doubt he'll be a big tail wagger around the little O mouth barkers anytime soon though.

In other news from the hood, my keen dog senses dog completly missed 2 deer that were in the field on his dog walk yesterday.  They were still barely bambi spotted but tall and leggy and about 40 feet away from us.  In his defense he's never been much of a hunter/gather type and he was tied up with handling his dog business so to speak.  Poo...spin...sniff.  They just stood and watched the spinning pooing dog...probably saving their deer jokes for after he walked away.  Then one of the deer made dookey of his own.  How many of you have seen a deer poo before...exactly...I rest my case of how cool I am.  I can not speak for the oblivious dog.

I have a little list of blogs that I read, some a lot more than others, but none the less they are all saved in my favorites folder.  That is, until today.  I even purge my favorites.  One went because she got all goddy on me...meh.  And two more others went because they went from witty clever writers to doing nothing but posting baby pics.  I get the idea of a journal that one day your kids will be able to look back at and understand where they came from...I honestly wish I had one...but damnit ya'll you don't have to get lost.  Delete...Peace out...gotta go.

And finally...bad sniff.  Last night after a particularly grueling almost 11 hour day in the trenches, I was standing in the kitchen at 11:30 having my delightful chef prepared meal of Ramen noodles, when I make an out loud statement that even I didn't see coming "Fuck...I stink".  And then thought to myself...I don't even care.  Yep, that's what it's come to.

Another One From the Archives

This one was written in apparently 1994, judging from the age it says I am. Back before I dated my thoughts or let anyone else see them.  From somewhere late year '93 through somewhere in '97 I had quite the run...I would consider it among the best times of my life.  I escaped and traveled and lived.  Best of all I turned into myself with no apologies.

1994
Tomorrow...What's it going to be?  Everybody I know is so far away from who they were and where they were when they were 21.  It makes me think that some how my life's going to be so much shorter than any of theirs.  Where will I be in 15 years?  Will I even BE at all?  The hell with 15 years, where will I be in 2.  Two years ago I would have never believed my life now.  Isn't that weird, it's nothing like I even dreamed.  So, does that mean that what I imagine maybe in 2 years isn't even close?

The adventure of life.  I guess that's it.  I don't guess you're supposed to know.  I don't think it's even planned yet.  It could be, everybody could have their life's story, kind of like our very own novel, and its already written.  That would be kinda cool, you know if you could show it off or something, instead of living it and being 90 years old trying to tell your story.  Either  you don't remember it or nobody believes you because they think you're too damn old to know what you're talking about.  No body's really interested in your "story".  Only a very few people will ever really care about your life.  Minus your parents, you're lucky if one or two your whole life, or that's what I think anyways.  I guess it shows how we're really alone through life.  Having someone who cares is neat, but it's not nearly as guaranteed as having yourself.

I'm sure I didn't think that more than a decade and a half later I would still be that raging little case of myself, that I would be thinking almost the same thoughts every day or that my life would so closely mirror what it was back then right down to the amount of water that I find myself playing in and the amount of Ramen noodles consumed every week. Funny how little I've chosen to grow up.

From the Dystunctional Mind of Heather Woo - 1993

This is kinda like a guest blog.  The guest being me circa 1993. Not a lot has changed, either I was pretty damn advanced for a 20 year old back in the day or I'm pretty unadvanced at 37...you be the judge.  This was uncovered yesterday, tucked in the back of a 1990 Rand McNally Florida Road Atlas...one of the few things that have managed unpurged over the years.  It was from before GPS and mapquest...back when you actually had to pay attention to your surroundings and not just some monotone directional nazi.  Nothing has been edited including the title. 

Well this has been the year of years for me.  I guess that old saying about whatever you're doing at midnight on New Year's Eve is what you'll be doing all year has about as much truth to it as good smelling cow shit.  Last New Year's Eve as I sat miserably in my miserable little house, watching the stupid apple fall with my beyond stupid husband, I honestly believed that I had arrived, that this is it.  My God, this is how my life is going to be.  The really sad part of it all is that a lot of people would have accepted it, figured they made a mistake and just lived with it.  There is no way that life is supposed to be so unhappy.  It can't be.  There's so much more to it all.  I can't help but believe that our sole purpose in life is to sustain happiness, not existence.  Way too often everybody gets so caught up in the details of life, and loose touch with the meaning, kind of like not seeing the forest for the trees.  Simplicity has got to be the key.  Everything is so complex, but complex is made up a whole lot of simple things.  Everything has to be taken for what it is, not always what it seems.  Don't worry about it if you can't do anything about it.
Happiness is the whole point of our existence, not only survival.  I can not understand how people can get so caught up in the bitch and moan rut that they let their entire lives pass them by without ever even knowing themselves enough to like themselves.  Life is so incredibly short, how could anybody not see that?  I never want to go through even one miserable day.  What it that was my last?  We can't be so intent on planning for tomorrow that we forget that we have today.  Today is the day that I want to live, tomorrow is a gift.

I guess now I realize that I have yet to arrive, I've not even come close to my dreams.  But my dreams, whatever they may be, will never hold me back from living today.  My short term goal I guess is to have fun with life and to always, no matter how bad I have the Chinese Dude, be happy.  I really think it's possible.