checking out in Target

Quote

How’s your holiday shopping/decorating/wrapping going?

Yes, we have just six (OMG!) more days to go but don’t stress…too much. Unless you haven’t started at all and plan to hit the malls on the last Saturday before Christmas.

Don’t.

Ask anyone in retail.

Just don’t.

Me, I have no plans to be shopping this weekend. Perhaps then I will get the stockings hung by the chimney with care…after the Christmas recital.

Of course this means I need to finish up getting a few gifts more and stocking stuffers now.

Hello Target!

And as I work my up and down practically every aisle, mentally ticking off my list, I pass more than a few people slumped and slouched over their carts. It’s not a good look. It makes my back hurt just looking at them.

Oh.

Wait.

I’m slouched and slumped over my cart too.

No wonder my back hurts.

Standing up straight as I push my shiny red cart, I continue to work my way up and down practically every aisle.

The struggle.

The struggle is real.

If you’re still scratching your head over what to gift me, the girl who doesn’t have everything, a massage would be perfect…absolutely perfect.

and now let us pause for a moment of self-indulgent meditation

(almost) Everyone has at least one…one pair of perfect blue jeans. The pair that fits your shape perfectly in every way that you want it to. They are perfectly broken in. Perhaps they have been that way since Day 1 because you paid the extra coin for them in their perfect wearable destruction; or maybe they have been worn to perfection through the days, weeks, months and years that you have worn them. You slip them on and they hug every curve and edge exactly how you want them to. They are your old friend that you can dress up, dress down, grunge around in or just chill in.

Your jeans.

Your favorite pair of jeans.

Your perfect pair of jeans.

Your most favorite, perfect pair of jeans.

Then today you slip them on and lo, they have become distressed and destroyed in such a way that is most certainly not fashionable, or repairable and…

:::SOB!::::

Oh stop judging! I know you get it because I know you too have that pair of jeans and even if you don’t, it’s my blog and I’ll self-indulgently mourn for the jeans that I have worn perfectly for longer than my first grandbaby has been alive if I want to.

By the way, that grandbaby is 6½ years old and she STILL hasn’t lost any baby teeth.

Let us all now pause for a moment of silent meditation for the perfect pair of blue jeans lost.

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Thank you.

#RIPLaurasFavoriteJeans

 

 

therapy

Sometimes, some days the weight of all that presses down on my heart, my head, my soul is just too much.

Like today. For so many reasons, today was one of those days. The sadness overwhelmed, pressed down and enveloped my very core.

And so I forced myself to run. I didn’t want to; but run I knew that I must do today…especially today. Today I ran because I knew that for at least the 30 minutes and 3.2 miles that I was running all that is right now always weighing down my heart, mind and soul was behind me. It wasn’t gone. Today I feel like none of it will ever be gone in my lifetime. But at least it was behind me for a blessed half hour.

And then reality.

What a bitch reality is.

It wasn’t all bad. No. One problem that in the last month went from bad to worse to clusterfuckedupness when Bill’s car met it’s demise in the Santa Cruz Mountains last month and then when he broke his motorcycle this weekend was solved…with monthly car payments to now worry about. Then again a family with a Bay Area commute to one job and a commute to Stockton with another job and a commute to Modesto for another job and school starting next week there was no way that we could survive with just one reliable vehicle that remains.

I should be thankful. I am. But today was a horrible, rotten, no-good, very bad mental health day and so I let the can-we-really-afford-this-car-payment-when-I-get-cut-from-work-pretty-much-every-scheduled-shift overwhelm me because, I got called off from work. Of course!

Bill handed me the keys telling me to take it for a drive. So I did.

I drove and drove and drove all over the place, past orchards and vineyards and parched fields and into the sunset with the windows rolled down and Iggy Azalea loudly promising that in spite of her 99 problems you won’t be one on the radio.

Therapy, much needed therapy for a pretty emotionally fucked up day.

Tomorrow’s another day. It might be a better day. It might not be. But it will be tomorrow.

One day, one hour, one minute at a time.

It’s therapy.

 

when I find myself in times of trouble

Sometimes life is just not much fun which I explain to my young adult children is why it sucks to be a grownup. I told them when they were younger too but they never listened then as children anxious to be grown up never do.

Today was one of those days where life pressed down a little too hard…a migraine…the eye twitchy thing…worrying about work (or lack of) and finances and a broke-ass car that we can’t afford to replace but replace we must and my kids (as their mom I always do worry every damn day because I’m their mom, dammit!)…dealing with my brother’s texts full of lectures and fears about Mommy Dearest’s colonoscopy because routine is never a reality for them which only served to amp up the eye twitchy thing into hyper-drive…and a scary-assed, WTF-is-happening-around-us, near miss driving from Stockton with my son in the car this afternoon. Quite frankly I just wanted to curl up into a ball and weep and wait for sleep or relief from any of what was pressing down upon me too hard to come.

And then the neighbors came over.

This kind of helps.

Actually it helps a lot.