The Ring Don't Mean a Thing

Ryan was telling me this story the other day about a young woman at one of his stops. She was telling him how much she loved being married and how awesome it was and all the stuff people who have been married for a month and a half will tell you. When he said something to her about it only being a month and a half she said "what do you know? you're not married". Of course he told her that he was indeed married, 13 years in fact, and her next response was amazement that he doesn't wear a wedding ring. The next big shocker was when he told her that I don't wear one either.

She was floored. Apparently in her mind, if one doesn't wear a wedding ring that automatically means they're going to cheat. I've got news for you honey, it's not the ring that prevents people from cheating. There are plenty of people out there who couldn't care less if there's a ring on their finger or not. Lots of things make a marriage and a ring isn't one of them. 

It blew her simple little mind that not only had the thought of cheating never occurred to either of us, but we're actually really damn happy with each other. Ryan told her that he has never looked at another woman and thought about hooking up with her and she couldn't believe that either. Why is that so hard to believe?? I'm sure he has noticed when an attractive woman walks by, but that doesn't mean he wants to sleep with her. I feel bad for the girl if she is constantly worrying that her husband is going to cheat on her. She's going to drive herself(and him) insane if that's how she is. A marriage will only last if both people have love, respect and trust for one another. 

And that's not something you get from a ring. 

The Magic's Gone

Last week the family and I went to Florida for a much needed vacation. Despite the fact that Ryan crushed my foot with my dad's wheelchair, I got round 3 of strep throat for the year and the A/C went out in our van, the vacation itself was absolutely awesome. I fell in love with St. Augustine and the ocean and could really see myself living there. The one day I could have done without was the day we went to Disney World. Turns out the Magic Kingdom isn't so magical anymore. 

We had taken the kids a few years ago but they were so little at the time they didn't remember. Being the good mom I am who wants to make amazing memories for her kiddos I thought it would be a good idea to take them again. Every kid needs to experience Disney World, right?! Mickey! Minnie! It's a Small World! The castle! What's not to love? Um, apparently a lot. 

Maybe I'm just old and cynical but I just wasn't feeling it and it didn't seem like the kids did either. Between the heat, the overpriced bottles of water and food,the 3 hour wait in line for Space Mountain (which we didn't do) and the pushy assholes who tried to cut line and in return felt my husband's wrath, the magic was gone. We saw maybe 3 characters walking around and posing for photos which was really disappointing. When I was a kid the characters were everywhere and all you had to do to get a pic with the main mouse was walk up to him. Now it seems like added costs and appointments were needed for everything. I miss the days of walking down Main Street and getting excited because you unexpectedly ran into Pluto. 

Also, the two trips my kids got to take to Disney World got cut short. The first time we were booted out of the park at 7 because they were having some "pirate party" that cost an additional $50 per person to attend, which is absurd. This time Mother Nature rained us out. Either way we didn't get to stay nearly as long as we had planned. 

I know a lot of people go ape shit for Disney and act like they worship at the House of the Mouse and I think they're just as nuts as they think I am for not being thrilled with it. The sad reality of discovering that it is overrated is kind of like finding out that Santa isn't real but something you have to learn eventually.

Keep on the Sunny Side

I am really going to try to give good old optimism a whirl and look on the brighter side of things. Given my dark and twisty nature this is not easily accomplished but I am willing to give it a go. Let's start by looking at things that could have been worse, but weren't.

There was the time I went out to eat two days in a row, to two different restaurants on opposite sides of town and found a hair in my food each time. Nothing makes me lose my appetite faster than finding a hair in my food It was disgusting and made me want to vomit, but the bright side was that it wasn't a "short and curly". *SHUDDER*

There was the time a few weeks ago when I got a parking ticket for not making it back to my car before the meter expired. While I was completely annoyed that the meter guy must have been hovering over my car like a damn vulture(how else could he have ticketed me so fast? It was literally 4 fucking minutes over. Not 40. 4.) I guess he could have had my car towed or put a boot on it. However, $2 for 2 hours of parking turned into $17 after I paid the fine, but that's beside the point. 

That brings me to today. In an epic display of douchebaggery, a jackass backed into my car while I was sitting behind them at a stop sign and then ran off. The front of my car is completely destroyed. The grill is now sitting in my backseat because it fell off, the bumper is barely hanging on, much like me after I've had two drinks (total lightweight here) and one headlight is smushed in and drooping and resembles a lazy eye. And that is only the damage that my untrained eye can see. God and a mechanic can only know what damage lies under the hood. 

What really chapped my ass was after the nasty cunt backed into me, they had the nerve to look at me in their side mirror before driving off! I was momentarily stunned and was torn between figuring out what the hell just happened and making sure Joshua was ok. He was in the front passenger seat and totally fine. All he did was lean over, pat my arm and say, "I'm sorry for your bad luck, Mom."

With that, let's show how it could have been much worse. Joshua has been in another hit and run accident with me before, but neither of us knew it at the time. When I was so newly pregnant I hadn't yet peed on a stick to know, I was in accident that totaled my car and left me with a wicked case of whiplash. Same scenario, I was sitting at a stop sign but that time I was hit from behind and that driver also got away. Considering I didn't know I was pregnant and went through numerous x-rays and took pain medication, it could have been a lot worse. But my boy would arrive big and healthy 8 months later and for that I'm grateful. 

So here is the sunny side to today. My car took a beating, but my son is fine. I am too, just completely, totally, and royally pissed. I'm a firm believer in what goes around comes around and the asswipe driving the dark green SUV or truck with the Virginia license plate will get what they deserve some day. I  found a four leaf clover in my yard after the accident and Ryan got Chinese food for dinner because he knows that General Tso can always make me smile. 

My bright side wasn't so hard to find after all. 

 

Tales of a Pasty White Girl

The month of April has not been kind to me so I don't feel the least bit guilty for wishing the bitch a fond farewell. This has been a long and unpleasant 30 days.

This month alone I had a dream crushed, it's still fixable just temporarily out of commission, fought 2 really nasty bouts of strep throat and had 2 sunburns. Sunburns. In April. I know, I know. Pale girl problems, right?

I look absolutely ridiculous right now. My shoulders are lily white and the rest of my arms are the color of a ripe tomato. My calves are as bright as the new fallen snow and my thighs are same shade of red as a baboon's ass. Now visualize all that and you have a visual of me looking all kinds of hot.

For two days I couldn't walk without serious pain. Pants were out of the questions and I'm not the least bit ashamed to admit I wore the same baggy sundress for those two days because I couldn't bear the thought of pulling a pair of shorts or jeans over my swollen, blistered stubby legs. Pulling up underwear took great skill and precision as to not accidentally scrape my tender skin.

Now the itching has started to set in and it is driving me ape shit. In a day or so the oh so attractive peeling will begin and I'll have to slap my daughter's hands away from trying to peel me like a banana. (she's a twisted one, I tell ya). The thing is, I KNOW I'm pasty. I should have known from the first sunburn of the year that I got while standing under a tree was foreshadowing things to come, but nooooo. I'm a dumbass who can't take a hint. I should have immediately ran to Sam's Club and stocked up on sunscreen that very day.

Alas, I didn't and my poor skin has paid the price.

I'm going to the beach in June and at this rate I will burst into flames as soon as I step foot over the Florida state line. If you happen to be in the St. Augustine area around the first week of June and you see a shapeless blob lying on the beach under an umbrella, covered from head to toe in a Snuggie, over sized sunglasses and a floppy hat, stop by and say hi to me. Better yet, take pity on me and bring me a cold Diet Coke and some aloe vera. I'll probably need it.

Oh Ye of Little Faith

I really, truly wish I was one of those people who could rely on faith. I've tried and tried but it isn't something that comes easily to me. As much as I would love to sit back and relax and rest assured that everything will be ok, I can't. There isn't enough Prozac in the world to calm my anxiety ridden self to the point where I can just chill. Faith seems to come naturally to some people. George Michael said we gotta have it, the Bible says we should have it. Why can't I let go and feel it?

That of course brings up more anxiety. Shouldn't someone who identifies as a Christian be able to rely on their faith to ease their fears? Does my inability to do that mean my faith in God isn't strong enough? I drive myself batshit crazy trying to figure it out sometimes.

I want to be able to close my eyes, take a deep breath and feel the sense of calm that so many people are able to experience. The calm that lets them know that everything in life will work out just how and when it is supposed to. Maybe I'm too much of a control freak for that. That requires letting go of the tight grip I have on the need to have answers immediately. I want to know what the plan for me is and I want to know now!  

Is that too much to ask?

Change is Good for the Soul...And the Hair...And the Clothes...

A post I made on Facebook has kind of been bothering me for a few days. Well, maybe not bothering me, but it made me think about things on a deeper level. (Yes, I have many levels. I'm not only cute and hilarious, I am also a deep thinker.)

I had posted a picture of myself on my wedding day and commented how I'd love to fit back into my dress. Not a big deal. One of those "I wish I was as fat now as I thought I was then" moments, you know the ones you have when you're in your mid thirties and have stretched out your body by carrying two large and healthy babies and then pushing their big heads out your hoo-ha, you know? My little sister kind of blasted me for my desire to constantly change. She said I'm fine the way I am and she doesn't understand why I always want to change myself. Well. Let's look at the possible reasons.

We could look at this on a psychological level and say perhaps I'm looking for the kind of approval I desperately wanted but never got from a certain person in my life who shall remain nameless.  But that's not the reason. We could say I'm a victim of the mind fucking laid out by the media and I'm trying in vain to achieve a level of beauty that can only be attained by cosmetic surgery, photoshop and thousands of dollars. But that's not it. Or we could say that I'm just completely spastic, suffer from an undiagnosed form of ADHD that manifests itself in my many hair and body changes. That could be part of it.

Honestly, I don't know why I always want to change the way I look. I love changing my hair and that's all there is to it. I like changing from brunette to red to purple or blonde. I think it's fun to go from long to short to curly to straight. I've been doing it for over 20 years and I don't see that ending anytime soon.

As for the body stuff, well that's another story. I'm no longer trying to change my natural, God given shape. I'm content and secure with being below average height and having an ass that can knock you across the room with one well placed bump to the hip. I don't own a scale so I can't get caught up on a number and I try not to get bent out of shape when I have to go up a pant size because I know it's usually due to the fact that not all brands run in the same sizes. That doesn't mean that I'm going to run out and buy a bikini and let my muffin top flop around. Some things I like to keep under wraps.  I'm a work in progress when it comes to this.

But no matter how often the outside of me changes, the inside never does. I'm still the same goofy, dorky, self-deprecating, lovable gal I've always been. If anything I'm the most comfortable I've ever been and those of you who have known me since the days of being so shy I wouldn't speak up and always walked with my head down so I wouldn't have to make eye contact with the world know that.

So no need to worry dear sister. Let me reassure you that I am completely happy with everything about myself. Except my hair. Growing out a pixie is proving to be a massive bitch. :)

Starting Over

Don't ya just love the twists and turns that life throws at you when you get a little too comfy and cozy? Just when you get your tush smooshed into the sweet spot where you think you everything is right in the world reality starts creeping up on you like the Jaws theme music and ends with a big old bite out of your ass. 

Here's the thing. My first official writing job is no more. Just as swiftly as it entered my life, it exited even faster. Probably wouldn't have been such a big deal had I not quit my boring, responsible, soul-sucking, steady paycheck job to devote my time to following my dream. But I did, and it was and now I'm jobless. 

I can't lie, I've had more than my usual freak outs in the last few weeks. I've had every emotion from sadness, to fear to embarrassment. It's ridiculous how much having a job can define someone. I've worked since I was 16 years old, what do I do now?? The embarrassment  has been the worst because who really wants to admit they made a bad decision? I've never been a person to jump without a net and I'm not sure I will again.  All I can picture is my family living in our mini van down by the river. (And just to clarify, the van is NOT mine. It's my husbands. I cannot bring myself to be a mini van mom. It clashes with my purple hair ;) )

Things like this force you to reevaluate a lot of things. I know things could be worse. I don't have a job but I have my family, our home and our health. Those are the most important things. Looking for a job absolutely sucks. I haven't had to do that in almost 9 years and I'm quickly realizing that I'm not as qualified for things as I'd like to think I am. 

BUT! I'm a persistent and plucky little shit, so I will rise to this occasion. I know exactly what I don't want in a job and now is a great time to find something new.I had a few back up plans in mind and here's what I've come up with. 

I could live my ultimate nerd dream and work at a bookstore during the day and write my own stories at night. 

I could combine my roller skating skills with my teen age fast food experience and be a skating car hop at Sonic. 

I can apply for any and everything I see (within reason. this old girl keeps her clothes on and does not "shake it" in a sexy way) and see what new adventure comes out of this. 

I think that's what I'll do. It might make for a hell of a novel one day.