As you read this I am frantically running around my house cleaning and getting ready to start cooking. Friends and family will arrive this evening and I guarantee that about now my kids are hating me for nearly doubling their usual chore list. At least I’m not having them clean the baseboards with Q-tips (my usual holiday chore when I was growing up).
In the meantime, while I’m writing this I’m listening to “Dazed and Confused” in the other room. OMG, I love this movie!
Alright, sorry I couldn’t do better than this for ya. But, you can bet, I’ll have pictures. Mike has shaved his head and there will be beer tonight! Let the scalp burns ensue!
Happy 4th of July, guys! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…
*sigh* I love Friday. The movie and the day… but today I am totally looking forward to NEXT Friday. The 4th of July Blitz. WOOT. Where my friend, ED (a girl, no I am not kidding) and I will probably drink too much and dance too loudly and drunkenly in my garage (wide open in front of the entire neighborhood) to 80’s music while we attempt to convince ourselves we are in junior high again.
My kid will roll their eyes, Mike will undoubtedly imbibe one too many keg beers and scorch his scalp under the firework sparks (AGAIN) and we will all eat too much, drink too much and be so damn merry that it will be the best 4th of July since Bing Crosby tap danced with Danny fuckin’ Kaye.
This is the week where I become convinced that my life is in the toilet, all is hopeless, and that my husband is an even bigger asshole than I was previously convinced he was. It’s a dark, sad, angry week. It’s oh so funny to imagine a stapler poking out of my husband’s head and wishing someone would invent a contraption that would allow me to send some sort of electric volt directly into each of my children’s butt cheeks by remote control, because let’s face it, shock collars are so “1980 called and they’d like their Judas Priest get up back.”
But, the sad truth is that I will undoubtedly pour myself a glass of red wine, climb the stairs to my sanctuary (aka bedroom) flip on a lovely, unemotional documentary and then attempt to forget all about back aches, bloating, migraines, cramps, acne breakouts, telephones, business, children, messes, laundry, the husband (unless he wants to provide that long promised back rub), and the rest of life’s little stresses that are just too much, no matter how insignificant, this week.
I’ll listen to some sad songs, cry, eat too many carbs, have another glass of wine and then fall into a, hopefully, dreamless sleep.
Last year I discussed with my doctor how horrible my PMS symptoms are. She suggested doubling my anti-anxiety, anti-depression meds during this week. Until I described the symptoms I have outside of that week, then she decided to double them full-time. Strangely enough, I don’t see much, if any, difference during this week - but the rest of the time I’m pretty cool.
*sigh*
I’m convinced that no matter how sympathetic they think they are - men have NO idea what women go through just to ensure the continuance of the human race.
Fuckers and their abilities to pee standing up, inability to bear children, and complete lack of PMS/periods.
My always and forever blog hero is Zube Girl. I love this woman, she’s amazing and brilliant. But, then she went and got knocked up, had a beautiful baby and totally started being more of a mom than a blogger. Can you believe that? Pfft. (totally kidding here!) I have forgiven her because she gave birth to the most beautiful little girl on the planet. Well, aside from my girls, of course, but I’m a mom and it’s in my contract to say that. Besides I totally know Kari will agree with me on this anyway and all of her kids are totally freakin’ cute too.
Anyway, so Zube went and wrote this post about her favorite songs. Her songs are matched to very poignant and sometimes painful times in her life and she mentioned she liked to hear what music speaks to other people. As you probably know, music is one of my greatest escapes, in fact, I’m blaring Queen in my ears right now as I write this.
As part of my “100 Things” series, I decided to list my top 10 favorite songs. Although, I have a sneaking suspicion I have probably done this before… but maybe not. And, if so - pfft, whatever.
This is actually pretty tough for me because I love a lot of different types of music. My heart belongs to Old Standards and Big Band, seriously. Sinatra, Dorsey, The Andrews Sisters, Bing… I could go on and on. I love every song Harry Connick Jr. has written, performed, and recorded whether it’s instrumental or includes his absolutely magical vocals. So to narrow it down to ten songs, that’s just really tough. In fact, to actually list a song as one of my favorites it has to be a song that I can listen to over and over, tug at my heart, bring back memories, or just make me really, really FEEL and be IN the moment, know what I mean?
So in no particular order (because that would make my head explode) here are my top 10 favorite songs:
1. I Was Born To Love You - Queen, I have always loved Queen. Ethan went through a Queen phase where all he listened to was Queen and he even learned to play, Love of My Life, on the piano. I can’t hear Queen without thinking of Ethan.
2. The Way You Look Tonight - Steve Tyrell, Frank Sinatra (who could pick a version!), this is the song that Mike and I had our first dance to. The entire wedding soundtrack was mainly set to the Father of the Bride soundtrack. I can’t hear this song without getting all warm, fuzzy, and squishy inside.
3. Simple Things - Amy Grant, this song has become my personal mantra, if that makes sense. Which is why the lyrics are listed on my MySpace.
I dream of simple things
I can believe in
Like the feeling this day brings
True love and the miracle of forgiving
I believe in simple things
4. Fly Me To The Moon - Frank Sinatra, Ol’ Blue Eyes never fails to get to me.
5. My Blue Heaven - Harry Connick Jr., I love Harry, but this song, his version, is just so up and happy. I never fail to grin when he sings, “Just Jillie and me and baby makes three, we’re happy in my blue heaven.”
6. Don’t Stop Me Now - Queen, my official Friday night song. I love this song, it puts me in a good place mentally every time I hear it.
7. Come Fly With Me - Frank Sinatra, the most romantic invitation ever.
8. On The Street Where You Live - Harry Connick Jr., this song is really special because, while I have always loved My Fair Lady, I love Harry’s version the best so I put it on my birthing CD for when I was in labor with Maggie. Later I would sing it to her in the shower, she was so tiny curled up on my chest letting the hot water hit her back, she would always fall asleep as I sang it to her.
9. Agnus Dei - Amy Grant, this one and her version of “O Come All Ye Faithful” just make me know that there is something greater and bigger than me out there. My soul moves with this music especially, as if it is truly connected to something sacred and wonderful. I grew up listening to Amy Grant, every Sunday my mom would put on a record while we got ready for church. Amy Grant was played pretty often and her music (Angels, El Shaddai, Sing Your Praise) always takes me back to a very special time before anything bad ever really happened.
10. Love Has A Hold On Me - Amy Grant, that’s it. That’s the ultimate, no matter how bad it gets, no matter what happens, it’s all the same in the end. I can’t really do this song justice without putting Amy’s lyrics here:
I have found a perfect mystery
Love has a hold on me
Long before my life had come to be
Love had a hold on me
Love has a hold on me
Where do I come from
Where does life mean
Is it not to know the one who made me
As I’m looking down the road ahead
Love has a hold on me
Someday when I breathe my dying breath
Love has a hold on me
Love has a hold on me
Where will I go
When this life is through
Back into the light that made me and you
Love has a hold on me
Something opened up my eyes to see
Love has a hold on me
Love has a hold on me
I don’t have answers to all the questions
Running inside of my mind
But I cant help but believe that
Understanding comes in time
Love has a hold on me
Something opened up my eyes to see
Love has a hold on me
Love has a hold on me
If I run, if I hide, I know inside
Your love has a hold on me
Tell me yes, tell me no, my heart will follow
Your love has a hold on me
If I run, if I hide
Your love has a hold on me
Your love has a hold on me
Your love has a hold on me
Hold on me
Boy, it’s been one hell of a week. I wanted to end on a happy upbeat note, but I just don’t think I can. I’m not good at being vulnerable. I’ve spent most of my life having to look out for someone else being vulnerable was not something I’ve had time for. I’ve always been the type of person to believe that good prevails in the end and when I’ve been given the opportunity, I’ve tried to speed that process along.
When Mike and I were on our honeymoon we received some very poor customer service at a chain store. By the end of the day I had the district manager on the phone, received an apology, the employees were written up, and we received a bunch of free stuff and a follow up letter of apology.
When an unscrupulous dental corporation attempted to fight me on the unemployment I was due - I fought them viciously and won. I got not only my unemployment but the judge at the hearing issued a very stern reprimand letter to the corporation and told me I probably had a good shot at a law suit. That’s not something that normally happens around here with the unemployment office. I followed this up with a labor complaint that ended in a decent settlement as well. I didn’t pursue the lawsuit even though Gloria Allred was willing to look into at one point (that isn’t name dropping or bragging, she was only interested because there was an element of sexual harassment). I probably should have but at that point I just wanted to walk away from the whole thing.
I put my job in jeopardy originally by alerting the dental investigator for southern California that children were being abused in the dental offices. I recall at the time, that Mike wasn’t too supportive of that because of it jeopardizing my job. But, no one else was willing to speak out for those children and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try.
My point? Well, it’s not that I’m some big, bad person who wanders around kicking ass. Not at all. In fact, my point is more that I wasn’t the “give up” kind of person. I have always had a deep desire for fairness and justice, the lack thereof has always been something that enrages me deeply. I get that from my mom, undoubtedly.
So, ten years ago? I would have fought this chicken thing tooth and toenail. Although, what is there to fight? What would I be looking to have at this point? I’d like an apology and an admission of general fuck up from this Code Enforcement Officer and the rest of the moronic department, I suppose.
These days I just feel like life has kicked my ass. Like the big bully is standing there yelling at me to get up and all I can do is just drag myself off somewhere. I’m tired. Really, really tired. And, I don’t feel like I have the support that maybe I once had. I’m just not the Erin Brockovich type anymore.
So I sit here, in effect, screaming at the ocean. Wishing things were different… wondering why they aren’t, and frustrated because it seems the more I wiggle the more the noose tightens. I look over at Mike as if to say, “you’ve got my back, right?” only to find that he’s angry and annoyed with me for even being upset about any of this. And, I feel like a child who has been told to stop crying about the ice cream she dropped in the dirt.
I don’t know, I guess when the person who means the most to you and is supposed to be your life partner, sees no validity in the things that matter to you, that you feel emotional and passionate about (and let’s not just reduce this to chickens, it’s more than that) - it no longer feels so important, worse yet, you feel a little worse about yourself for “getting so worked up” over it.
I feel that for every feeling of discontent that I have I must first close all the exits, cross every t and dot every i just to prove that my feelings have worth and value. Sometimes it feels like a constant battle, which person’s cares are more important. Not that I feel that way, but after feeling like nearly every feeling you have is devalued, you just want to scream and say, BUT I FEEL THIS WAY, WHY DON’T YOU CARE?!?!?!
I can’t seem to make it clear that to me, agreeing with someone and caring about their feelings is not the same thing. I’m ok with someone not agreeing, but I’m not ok with being put down for having those feelings. And, just because you don’t agree doesn’t mean you can’t care. At least in my book.
I have been known from time to time to wake my husband up in the middle of the night whispering, “Michael!!!! Did you HEAR that?!?!?!?”
He wakes up, listens, doesn’t hear it, goes to check it out anyway, comes back to bed, teases me and goes back to sleep. Sometimes he acts grumpy and goes out to check and comes back bitching when he doesn’t find anything. Other times he says, “it’s ok, babe” rolls over and starts snoring loudly.
Except for the other night…
I woke up hearing some sort of drum beat that sounded very much like a tribe of cannibals were prepping for a feast. I shook Mike and watched as his eyes widened because, THIS TIME HE ACTUALLY HEARD IT!!! And, for once he was almost as scared as I was!
He crept downstairs (unarmed and wearing only his underwear) into the family room where nothing appeared to be disturbed with the exception of the keyboard that was on and playing a creepy (at least at 2am) drumbeat.
Liza must have been up torturing the bird and mouse partying and scared the living hell out of herself when she ran across the keyboard. Man, I wish I had a nanny cam in there or something!
The important thing here is that he finally heard the noise too.
Last night there was a cool breeze blowing and Mike and I sat out on the deck to enjoy the sunset. Maggie soon pranced her happy butt out on to the deck and began doing the “I really have to go potty but I’m so happy to be enjoying your company that I’ll put it off for a bit” dance.
I have to admit to briefly considering watching her prance to the point of no return and then calling Ethan to step out on the patio below for an impromptu evening shower. What? Shut up. You all know that I have an evil streak.
Instead I told Maggie to go in and go to the bathroom. She ran into our bathroom that has a small water closet with a window just above the toilet. The window overlooks the deck. Wow that sounds strange, but go with me anyway on this one.
Mike got a sort of evil grin on his face and since I was really enjoying the beer I didn’t feel the need to inquire and/or possibly stop him. He tip toed over to the open window.
“Oooooooo, oooooooo, I’m the bathroom ghost… woooooooo.”
I heard a scream and two little feet slam down on the tile. I guess that’s when she looked back and saw Mike at the window.
“MIKE!!! You don’t say bathroom ghost!!!!”
Mike laughed and I guess that made Maggie mad.
“I’ll kick your ghost ass!!!!!!”
Yep, you can go ahead and overnight that Parent of the Year trophy, folks.
But, I have a hard time thinking I’m as off as someone might have me believe.
This is my house (shortly before we moved in) I would have taken a new picture but a nasty dust storm has blown in and I am not going outside. Ok, so picture:
See the three windows (with the oh-so-helpful red circle?) right in the middle above my front door?
That opens on to an entry that is open to the second story ceiling. A lot of heat (during the summer) comes through those three windows. Lots of options (even inexpensive options) are available to handle this issue.
Yet, someone (who shall remain nameless to protect his/her anonymity) suggested painting a panel (perhaps cardboard?) and using a stick to put them up there in the windows.
When I objected (probably with a more horrified and offended look than I should have used) to this suggestion, I was told that no one else cares what I have in my windows, that no one else (other than myself) pays that much attention to other houses.
So, I ask you:
Do you pay attention to other houses and what things the owners may or may not have done to them or am I just strange?
How would you feel about having some sort of home made panel put in your windows that face the street?
And, yes, in case you are wondering, we DO have an extension ladder.
I’ve read “Men Are From Mars / Women Are From Venus” - I like it. I think it has awesome, practical information in it. I also have “Mars and Venus in Conflict” (check title, not sure if I have it right exactly and I’m too lazy to run upstairs and retrieve it.)
But, what I think is missing here? Even though both books contain some practical examples, is a guide to romancing your wife - written by a woman. Ok, I didn’t research this, maybe on already exists. I don’t care, I am pretty sure I have some pretty decent ideas. Maybe I’m strange, maybe this doesn’t apply to all women, but, I think everyone can find something useful here even if not all of it floats your boat.
“Everyone loves a slinky… ya gotta get a slinky… slinky SLINKY… GO SLINKY GO!!!!”
And, I think Slinky is fairly unisex too.
Mike says I come up with bad pet names. Pfft.
If one of those chickens ends up being a hen (please, God, PLEASE!!!) then I’m naming her Bitsy. I don’t see how you can have a chicken and not name it Bitsy. I lived for years with NERO (named after Nero Wolfe character). Ok, I totally encouraged that name. Hee hee. But, a girl chicken named Bitsy? OMG! That’s just CUTE!
Mike is still steamed at me for letting Ethan name the dog Alexander Hamilton. He was studying history and had just gotten back from a trip back east with my mom… SHEEESH! Besides, he goes by Zander anyway. I notice Mike doesn’t get ticked when I call Zander, “Zandy.” I think that’s cute… it’s like Andy with a “Z” which makes me think of Funny Farm with Chevy Chase. I love that movie.
