sometimes it’s just a resting bitchy face

So there I was sitting at my kitchen table, checking my email while waiting for a scheduled phone interview from a reporter. The appointed time passed and, thinking that perhaps she is running late and will be calling any minute now, I started to do other things like check my Twitter feed, pin some more stuff on Pinterest and check out what my laptop camera can do. Of course it’s the perfect time to take a selfie!

Hmmm…good hair day…I’m going to use this for my Facebook profile picture because…why not?

Yes, I was still waiting for that reporter to call me.

And then…

Are you okay?

I’ve seen that look before. Hope Bill isn’t in too much trouble.

You look so sad.

Praying you’re okay.

Am I okay?

Is Bill safe?

Should I be alone looking like this?

Am I in any danger?

What about everyone else out there?

OH.

MY.

GAWD!!!

People…darlings…friends…family…

It’s called a Resting Bitchy Face!!!

I’m fine.

Although I nearly died from boredom and general annoyance while waiting for that reporter to call. She never did and I am afraid that I might never get that hour back.

Perhaps I am not okay after all.

Thanks for caring.

the lives that matter

It seems that lately we need to be reminded what lives matter because, it seems that some lives matter more than others. At least that’s the way that it seems in the news and all over social media.

  • Some conservatives are outraged and demanding the shut down of Planned Parenthood because #unbornlivesmatter and #ppsellsbabyparts – factually wrong.
  • Some liberals are incensed because #blacklivesmatter  yes, get it…preaching to the choir.
  • The privileged are aggrieved because #alllivesmatter – um, clueless? Yes, clueless.
  • Others are fired up because #crueltyfree#righttobeararms#banalltheguns…and on and on and on
  • and then #CeciltheLion

Here’s the thing, the way that I see it – one can be outraged by all the atrocities we perceive happening right now in and around our globe – and yet be moved by the senseless killing of a beautiful animal.

It is one thing to kill an animal in order to eat and sustain one’s life. It’s another to kill an animal simply because they are MAJESTIC. To think to one’s self that this thing, this animal, this work of art is so majestic that I need to kill/destroy it so that it can no longer thrive in its own life, have offspring, nurture its existing dependents – and to PREVENT ANYONE ELSE from experiencing/appreciating its beauty.

Oh my god! This is not just the epitome of hubris – it’s intentionally, actively, and at great expense, taking away something from the rest of us. It’s deciding that your momentary pleasure in destroying something beautiful is more important than everyone else’s joy/pleasure at seeing that individual, majestic animal alive.

I personally believe that people who kill random wildlife for shits and giggles and grins are asshats. Sorry, not sorry. I grew up with y’all and I believed then as I do now that yes, y’all are asshats – but that’s in a different league than a “sportsman” paying top dollar to kill a rare, endangered animal.

In the grand scheme of things, Cecil does not matter to human lives lost to the worst of human atrocities, war and violence – insert appropriate hashtag here. However the thought  of someone killing an animal they have no intention of eating – PAYING to kill an animal they have no intention of using to provide for their own sustainability galls me.

So yes – other societal issues take priority for me – and yet, I can still be maddened by what happened to this beautiful creature, to Cecil the Lion.

~ photo credit – Diane Davis Maas

dreaming dreams

I dream a dream

I dream a dream where my desk will forever always be as uncluttered as I wish my mind would be.

Because this literally took me all day to do. Of course given the fact that my mind is such a cluttered mess, it is likely that it took all day to clean and organize this entire workspace because my mind is such a distracted cluttered mess.

Ugh!

I dream a dream where I would not find myself so excited over my latest purchase.

Best $4 I have ever spent ever because menopause is stupid and the fact that hot flashes can literally go on and on for years…YEARS post menopause is just stupid and dumb and quite possibly causes me to question my belief that it is great to be a girl.

I dream a dream where one can sit in a waiting room, a coffee shop, at a bus stop, in an airport, in a restaurant and not be forced to enjoy the music, video, game, podcast, whatever loud noises coming from an individual’s smart phone, tablet or laptop because, believe it or not, we really aren’t as into that new music video on YouTube or movie or book on tape game or whatever else you or your precious snowflake might be enjoying while sitting next to us in a waiting room, coffee shop, bus stop, airport, restaurant or any public place where we are sharing the same oxygen.

Really.

Truly.

I dream a dream where ear buds and headphones are available for all god’s children…especially you and your precious snowflake.

And then I dream some more…

raw deals and their beautiful disasters

The Fourth arrived and exited as loudly as it often does every year and it was good.

I said it was good.

It was.

It was good.

Of course I still allowed myself a little bit of melancholy because I do sometimes.

My little brother he will always be and like every other person out there who has lost a sibling, I am more than entitled to miss him. He would have been 52 on July 4th but he will forever be 41 just as he will forever be my broken little brother who looked for approval that was never going to come…at least from those he sought after. In retrospect I try not to focus on the raw deal that was most of his life because it was mine too and raw deals seem to run in the family. Sadly, even to the next generation.

My sister’s children  have lived through more than their fair share of raw too. Given that which Val tried to survive through and the choices she made, it’s hard not to be surprised. But her daughter, my niece, proved to be a survivor surviving really the only way one does survive and thrive and that is to break away and cut the ties. My nephew, on the other hand, struggles not to repeat his mother’s life…and ends up repeating it anyway because family ties that chafe and rub your heart as raw as ours have done are pretty hard to cut away, at least not without some pain and damage. Some of us just can’t handle that pain I guess. I know Randy could not. Neither could Val. And, it seems, neither is her son able to right now. His sister, so much like me, tries to help, tries to fix and, like me so many times before, is hurt in the process. Right now, she is hurting a lot because it’s hard to watch her own brother, the one who was the person she practiced on, the person who taught her about fairness and cooperation and kindness and caring, quite often the hard way is hurting and lost to her in a way that she can not fix. I know this hurt. I know it too well times three…perhaps times four. But all I can do is remind her that all that she can really do is just love him…even if it means loving him at arms length, or even miles and miles length because she deserves to heal and her son deserves so much more…much, much more than than the raw deals we have survived.

So, together, although separated by 3,000 miles, we cry a little for the little boys lost that are our brothers…and pray that her brother will, like us both, survive. It’s all that we can do.

I also felt some sadness for my own daughter and her friends. When you’re 21 or 22, it’s hard to imagine that you’ll be going to a funeral for a friend, a classmate but it sometimes happens. I met her friend, Josh, just two days before he died. Standing in line with Abby, Jodie and Daniel to see Inside Out (go see this movie), I hear, “Hello Abigael!” Naturally, I turn as Abby does because I am the only one who calls her Abigael and I must see who is this other person who calls her Abigael. Abby introduces me to a young man with laughing eyes and a warm smile telling me that this is her friend, Josh.

We shake hands and laugh a little together, Josh and I, because we are the only people who call Abby Abigael. Abby and Josh talk a little bit more but soon wave their goodbyes because, popcorn and snacks in hand, we are ready to go see Inside Out while Josh is seeing another movie that night. It’s hard to imagine someone as engaging as this young man seemed that night would be hiding so much pain behind those laughing eyes and warm smile as his but apparently there was much pain; enough pain that he would take his own life. So now his young friends gather at “the Hook” to remember and celebrate their friend, Josh and tomorrow will bury him. And I find myself sad again. Sad for the end of this young man’s life. Sad for his friends. Sad for his family.

Three men. Three beautiful, young men.

All it takes is a beautiful fake smile to hide an injured soul and they’ll never know how broken you really are.

because sometimes you just have to pull over and let it out

Scratching your head a little over that title, eh?

Yeah me too.

Have you ever had that moment where you knew that you were going to be sick but it was absolutely the last thing that you wanted to do because…who wants to get sick…where you are at…who you are with…who really wants to just hurl right here, right now.

Of course my darling husband and a couple of my kids swear by the nonsense of letting it go (so to speak) because you’ll feel better after.

They are totally, completely weird that way…truly….I judge them all the time when they choose to share their weird theory…and then I feel nauseous because I just can’t deal with vomit…not at all.

Oops!

I should have told you what this was about.

No not really actual vomit.

Except there is this one time…it’s kind of gross…still…

Okay.

Way back in 1993, Bill and I bought our very first brand new car, all bright and shiny and red with that fresh new car smell and only 8 miles on the odometer…a Mercury Villager! Thus began my long journey, that seems to have no end, of me driving a minivan. It wasn’t that bad…except now when I really don’t need a minivan. But that Villager! I loved it. We were literally the first family at my daughter’s school to have one and we always caused quite the stir at the drop off and pick up. While I was collecting my kindergartener, Hollie, I would spy other moms pressing their noses against the limousine tinted glass to gaze upon it’s gorgeous interior. I loved that car! It was perfect for a young mom with two small children and one on the way. And it was the first brand new car that I had ever owned.

Oh yeah, I was pregnant when we bought it. Yeah, I was struggling with hyperemesis too. Big surprise. But after nearly 8 months of it with Zoë, I was a pro…at least I thought I was. I knew the vomiting was inevitable but at least this time I could control it…?…I know, I’m an idiot sometimes. So there I was coming home from a routine OB visit, driving my gorgeous, red minivan, when…oh no…NO!….OH NO!!!….It’s coming….where is a bag, a towel, something, anything….there’s nothing??!!…oh dear god…it’s coming…

Frantic and not knowing what to do but determined not to throw up in my shiny, new car, I pull over a block from home and…

Yeah.

I never, ever drove that way home as long as we lived on Amelia Drive ever again.

Oh, and family, I did not feel better afterward! I actually felt worse and it had nothing to do with the homeowner of the house I stopped at to puke on their curb saw me. I just did; even if my body was forcing that vomit out.

I’m being gross, aren’t I?

I’m sorry.

It happened again the other day. I tried and tried so hard to keep it down, to somehow will it to not come out but…

And then after that came the words…ALL the words. All the words forcing their way out of my mouth…and they just kept coming and coming and coming…

I just can’t seem to get away from the Mean Girls references, can I?

What can I say?

It needed to come out…all of it…and it did. Of course I was miserable after…as is the one whom received all those words…so many words…hundreds…more than a thousand…all tumbling out on top of each other , forcing their way out.

It all had to come out.

All of it.

And, because it’s me, I felt even worse.

Ugh!

But sometimes you just have to pull over and let it all out right there.

So I did..

Excuse me now, I have a big mess to clean up.