Well to date May has been my most successful month, I only missed ONE day. I must really like talking to you guys! I feel very proud of all those red X’s. I am looking forward to tomorrow and revealing what the next month has in store for me. Thanks to everyone who took the time to read this last month. You Ma’h Peeps Yo!
That really has nothing to do with anything but if you have never felt the comfort on a warm kitty curled up sleeping on your back then you haven’t really lived.
After a month finding stuff to write about is getting pretty hard so tonight you get warm kitty on the butt. Sweet dreams!
I like to think on the whole I am a good person. I am generally nice to people, I like to give folks the benefit of the doubt. I don’t laugh at people when they fall down or walk into glass doors like some people I know *cough..Maimy..cough cough…. Gil*. And I would say that by in large I do not enjoy other peoples misfortune. That being said there are exceptions to this rule, I get a really perverse thrill about people getting their just desserts. A million years ago when I worked at Zellers it would happen from time to time that some fool would get caught stealing from the company and the would get hauled out back, the cops would be called in and by the end of shift they would be perp walked off the premises. As if by instinct around the time they were leaving the rest of would gather near by, almost like a parade route, so that they would have to walk out past us. It wasn’t an organized event but management never said anything about it, never sent us away and back to work. I think they kind of like that everyone else saw “This is what we do when you steal from us.” I always thought it was a fitting punishment, to have to walk past your peers being judged for your actions. I admit I am a bit more conservative than you might have guest regarding these kind of things. I know that if my punishment was that I had to walk past my co-workers while the whispered, pointed and silently judged me I would really make sure I didn’t get in the situation.
The reason I bring this up is because I hate it when people get away with being creeps, idiot and shits. Too often in this weird old world bad things seem to happen to good people while people who put the least into being a human skate by with seemingly no consequences. Today I heard a tale that the scales and tipped the other way and my reaction was one of gladness. I was happy that this person finally got what I felt was coming to them. It might seem petty but I legitimately don’t care. People who use and manipulate and who are just takers need to get some push back from this world or they will just keep going on TAKING.
So yeah, I admit it, today I took joy in someone else’s trouble, like I said I am generally nice but even I have a few wisps of darkness in my heart.
Have you ever had one of those brutal days where NOTHING goes right? This was just one of THOSE days, nothing was wrong but everything was wrong. I couldn’t get out of my own way, I was tired, I couldn’t focus, I felt like my skin was on wrong and nothing I did fixed it. The thing is that nothing BAD happened, no customers were awful, no co-worker or boss. The whole issue existed only between my own two ears. By mid day I was ready to throw in the towel, feeling like I was just not going to get it, by three o’clock was convinced that I had entered some kind of Groundhog Day crisis where I had been stuck in the same Tuesday for a month. When I got home I just wanted to run my errands, get my chores done and then crawl into bed where no one had to see what a mess I was making of things. But after all that I had this great moment of clarity and awe. I was standing in the kitchen with the lights down low, drinking a cold beer and washing some dishes that didn’t make it into the dishwasher while my husband stood beside me drying. It was simple, beautiful and perfect and I thought “Well if this is a bad day then I have it pretty damn good!”
Now I am going to take that thought and tuck myself into bed with it and I think that is going to give me some good, comforting dreams. Good night my friends.
I am sitting on the deck in the dark writing and drinking a beer. Normally I would be at the dining room table but the house is full acrid black smoke and I just need a breath of fresh air. I love cooking but dammit why does it always turn into such a damn mess. Why is there always so much clean up, burnt on sticky shit, insanity. Well actually that is a rhetorical question, I know the answer, my attention span, first… last … always. I am not actually ADD/ADHD but… oh look SHINY. I never give anything 100% of my focus, I am always doing a whole bunch of things at once even when, ESPECIALLY when, I am cooking. Making the sauce, peeling potatoes, reading a book, checking Facebook, making the salad, watching an episode of something, feeding the dogs, all at the same time. No one 80% of the time I cook the alarm goes off. Even as I write this I have been stopping to respond to a thread in Facebook. We are programmed now to multitask I know I am not alone in this. Where ever we are we are connected to so many things at once, we are expected to split our attention often times if we don’t we are chastised, if we don’t get enough done in the run of the day we beat our selves up endlessly. I know I am not the only one who goes to bed thinking of all the things I didn’t get done in the day and figuring out how I can fit them into the over packed tomorrow. I think I am going to make a concerted effort to do less from now on. Okay not LESS but maybe BETTER. Maybe I will turn the radio on while I am cooking and shut down the laptop. Maybe I will stay IN the kitchen and focus on the task at hand cleaning as I go so I don’t have to spend half the night scouring burnt sauce off the cooker rather than reading my book and having a beer.
Or I could give up on cooking and just order everything in. I kid, I kid.
Tell me, what do you think you should slow down and focus on? How many things are you doing while you are chopping veg or hanging out with your family? I know I am not the only one, fess up folks!
Sometimes when you have had a less than idyllic childhood you find yourself playing the “What If” game. It’s easy enough to do but it can be a bit dangerous. Let me be perfectly clear, I love my life. I love my husband, I love my family, I love my friends. I would not do ANYTHING to jeopardize the life we have built. That being said I occasionally indulge in the the What If game but it is hard to know where to start. I like to imagine that I am a Time Lord with a TARDIS all of my own that I could use to travel along my own time line. I think sometimes that I would go back to ’74 when my Mother was hooking up with my biological father and given her a big warning from the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. Of course I am a little too fond of being alive so maybe I have to let sleeping dog even knowing that it may cause some damage. So how about going ahead a year or two when she hooked up with her loser third husband. That would save all of us a LOT of heartache. Or maybe I could go back and tell her to have a breast examination sooner. There isn’t much I can do about the breast cancer, I don’t even entertain those ideas, there is no good outcome down that path. Do I go to the first social worker who turned a blind eye? To the night my dad asked me about my step mother? There are too many moments to chose from. The problem is if you changed one thing who knows what impact it will have on all the events that follow? What if having the trade off for having my mother alive and well is that I would never have this awesome husband who I adore more than the moon and stars. That is a choice I could never make.
However I have come up with a scenario that I think would improve my life greatly without having an obvious negative impact. If I could pull it off I would go back to June 1985, to the teachers lounge of Caudle Park elementary school. I would sit down with my fourth grade teacher whose name has long slipped out of my memory, she would be getting ready to report cards. I would sit down with her and beg her to please hold me back a year. You didn’t read that wrong, I absolutely wish that I had failed the fourth grade. You see in November of 1984, early into that grade my mom died and as you can imagine I missed a LOT of time. In the early days it was just too soon to go back and then my family was falling apart and no one seemed to notice if I stayed home with another headache or another upset tummy. The thing about that is that in 4th you are learning your multiplication tables and because I missed SO much time I never did, not any of them. The problem with not knowing multiplication is that you need it for division and then for EVERYTHING that comes after. My teacher must have known that I was falling way behind, I couldn’t pass a test to save my life but every one was feeling so sorry for me they just let me slip through. No one wanted to hold back the sweet little girl whose mom had just died and whose drunk father was falling apart so much that social workers kept coming around the school. I am sure there hearts were in the right place but I should have been held back. Given a year to do it over maybe I could have caught up, I can’t say 100% for sure. What I can tell you is that I spent the rest of my academic career trying to catch up but I never could, I just kept falling behind until I hated math, until I was convinced I wasn’t a math person or a science person or even a smart person. I understand now that I AM a smart person, I have lots of skills, I accept that at this point of my life I am never going to be a math person and I can’t go back to the 4th grade without my TARDIS but if I could I would tell that teacher that the truly compassionate act would be to give me a chance to settle down, for the world to start to make sense again and then start learning my damn times tables.