ParTay
Last night, I actually went out. With other Adults! Can you believe it?

About 4:50 one of the guys at work (I'll call him J) asked if I wanted to meet him and some of the others at a Mexican Chain Restaurant for dinner and drinks. I thought it sounded like fun to I messaged N.

Have I mentioned that we have trouble making decisions? The problem is, neither of us wants to FORCE the other to do something they don't want to, and we both want to see the other happy. So, the conversation went like this:

Me: Hey, J just invited us out to Large Mexican Chain Restaurant do you want to go?
N: Do YOU want to go?
Me: I would like to, but I know you said earlier that you had a headache.
N: Yeah, I do have a headache.
Me: Well do you want to stay home then?
N: What do you want to do?
Me: I don't know, I don't know how you're feeling.
N: I'm kind of tired but if you want to go, I'll meet you there.
Me: Actually I was thinking of coming to get you so that we could come in one car.
N: Oh, well if that's what you want to do.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat..

Can you hear me screaming about now?

Finally I said.

Me: I would like to go, I think it could be fun, but it's up to you. I know you have a headache and if you don't feel like it, I have no problem staying at home.
N: I think we should go, it may actually help my headache who knows.
Me: Ok, do you want me to come get you?
N: Uh, I would like to take one car, so yes, I think that would be better.
Me: *sighing with relief* Good, I'm leaving now.

We went out, we had a good time. His headache didn't get better, but I 'rewarded' him for coming out to make up for it. Best of all I got to feel like an adult for an hour or two, and I got to prove to my coworkers that I'm not the snob that they thought I was. Heh.

I would like to add that this Large Mexican Restraint Chain has EXCELLENT super LARGE Margaritas... I had two!

Because you asked
If you checked the comments below the weekend update post you would have seen that I purchased the most amazing hairclip over the weeknd. I have baby fine hair and finding something that will hold in it is next to impossible. This clip, not only sayed for the entire day, but held through a nap and a workout. Best of all it did it without pinching, tugging or digging into my head.

So, without further adue, the clip

I know, it looks like it would never work. I said the same thing myself. I scoffed at the girl selling the things. "I've tried those before, my hair is too fine" She immediatly rose the the challenge. How does it work? you ask. Let me show you. When you 'scoop' your hair into it, you do so with the 'pin' like this:

The beauty of this is that you don't leave it like that, with a simple twist the clip looks like this:

And does it hold! Best of all it looks pretty at the same time.

In case you wondered
By the way. Remember the reason I was childless this weekend?

I was told that they ex had planned to have a garage sale and need the kid's help. Well I talked to my Son on Saturday (while I was folding clothes and sweating off 15 lbs at the laundromat) and he informed me that they decided NOT to have the sale this weekend! BAH

Of course I just KNEW that the ex was going to pull some crap about needing them Labor Day weekend now. But my oldest called to let me know that she has a Water Polo game on Monday (Labor Day) and that I would need to drive her to her game, and I haven't heard anything from the ex, yet, so I'm assumming that they are still coming over.

So the good news: I DO get to have the kids over the three day weekend.

The Bad News: I'm going to be putting a LOT of miles on my car with having to drive Ms Know (AKA C AKA the oldest) to her game.

Now I'm going to try to tunk up something to write about that doesn't involve the ex or My sweetheart... WHO by the way Needs a name... I'm tired of calling him "N" - so impersonal and "My Fiance" just gets tiring after a while.

Suggestions are welcome!

How was YOUR weekend?
So, it's Monday. Normally on Monday I would tell you about my weekend. I would tell you about how the sweetest man in the world ? bought me a JumpDrive, that saved my life because 10 minutes after downloading files to it I so seriously crashed my computer that it required a complete do-over. And then I would tell you about how I went to the Laundromat (AKA Hell) and did three weeks of laundry on the HOTTEST FREAKING DAY OF THE YEAR (how does 104 Effen Degrees strike you? F for Fahrenheit of course) And I would polish it all up and tell you about the Golden Gate Ren Faire that we went to on Sunday and how I giggled inappropriately every time the people in the Fried Noodle Booth shouted "Hassah!" because it was just SO funny to hear "Hassah" shouted with an oriental accent.

But I'm not going to do that, because that stuff would be kind of boring. I mean doesn't everyone do these sorts of things?

Instead I'm going to bore you with thoughts and meanderings that I had Sunday night (or would that be Monday Morning) while we were grocery shopping at 12:00am.

It was strange, maybe because it was 12:00am and we were on a spontaneous grocery run. I kept looking at the man in the car next to me and thinking "Holy Fuck, this gorgeous, loving, funny, intelligent man is mine, and he loves me!"

I got to thinking that we met three years ago. Ok, actually three years, four months, and twenty-seven days ago. About how I met this man, and fell in love with him that very night. Every day since then has been like a dream. He is, quiet honestly the perfect man for me.

Three years, four months and twenty-seven days and he still at least once a day pulls me close, breaths into my hair and murmurs "I love you SO MUCH", or simply says "Mine."

And yet all of this doesn't stop the nightmares. Yes, I have nightmares. The kind of dreams that leave you wide awake and laying in your own sweat. Nightmares where I go back to the ex, or worse that I never left. And Sometimes, when I'm half asleep, he'll say something and the voice I'll hear will be the WRONG VOICE and it's all I can do to not roll over and begin to wretch.

Is this some sort of weird healing process? Will it go away eventually?

But I've digressed. I was talking about last night, and how lucky I felt to be riding in the van with the man of my dreams, going on a grocery run at 12:00am in the morning.

Although in retrospect, that's probably just as boring as the story about the ren faire

So many I won't...

Calling all Voyeurs
If anyone wants to see the pictures I took while on Vacation in the South Bay, let me know. (leave a comment or email) I'll be adding pictures from San Diego and Filoli soon as well.

I would like to think I take a few nice 'artistic' photos so these aren't (I HOPE) your typical family vacation photos.

Why School is the 7th level of Hell
I've stated before that school was hard for me, socially. It started in the second grade. I'm not sure what set the others off. The fact that I was from California, or that my parents were hippies and this was the mid-west by God! Or maybe it was just that I was painfully shy and not all that much to look at. Two boys decided that I was DIRT. I can see them clearly today and remember their names, "Troy." Yes, they were BOTH named Troy. We're talking about more then just name calling too. I was jabbed with stick pins, caught walking home off school grounds and the `attempt' made to beat me up. The strange thing was, I was better at handling the physical things, then the verbal. At least with the physical I could fight back, and BOY did I fight back. But being called "Mule, Ear" (Yes, I had big ears and buck teeth) and the incessant "Hee Haw" just made me want to crawl into a dark cave and stay there. If I tripped they were there to witness and mock it, if I struggled reading they were the loudest to guffaw. I had class with these boys for FOUR LONG YEARS.

Things were better for a few years. I moved, my mom held me back. I was still shy, but no one was trying to beat me up anymore. A few of the boys decided that I had `germs' and would spray "Cootie Spray" on anything I touched, but that I could live with. I had one or two friends who I could hang out with on the playground and I pretty much ignored that gaggle of gossiping `popular girls'. That was until my parents happen to make friends with the parents of one of the popular girls. We would go over to her house and we would sit together talking and laughing. I couldn't believe it, she was like me, insecure yet fun to be around. Then life taught me another lesson. Back at school she went from `one of the girls who ignored me' to `a girl who gossiped about me to her friends". I was stunned, broken hearted and a little mad. So, one day I trapped her by her self and asked point blank. "Why are you acting like this? I thought we were friends, I thought you liked me!"

To this day I can remember her reply, "I DO like you, but...you don't fit... and if I talked to you at school, well then my friends might not want to be my friends anymore!"

For some reason, this made sense to me. And so, I continued to be her `closet friend'.

We moved again (of course) mid way through sixth grade only at this school sixth grade was Jr. High. Oh, GOD Jr. High. We moved in next door to this girl who was on the `outs' with the popular girls. I spent some time before starting school with her and got filled in on all the `important stuff' like who to talk to, who not to talk to, which boys were cute and who had dibs on which boys. I felt like I had a `leg up'. Imagine my surprise when the girl who had been assigned as my `orientation buddy' was the very girl that my neighbor had warned me about. "She's SUCH a bitch! Don't trust her" I had been told repeatedly.

My attitude already tainted, and ready for this girl to turn around, attack me at any point, my shyness kicked in at a whole NEW level. I probably muttered two words to her the entire morning and at lunch, managed to ditch her to hang out with the neighbor girl. Unbeknownst to me, I had just SNUBBED the most popular girl in school! At the lunch table it started, I heard something shouted at me from across the room and when I turned to look at the boys who had said it was rewarded with, "Not you shipwreck!" The natural follow up to the line "Hey Dreamboat"

In music class that afternoon the music teacher was throwing the students a dance. After the lunch time fiasco I was feeling pretty low, so you can imagine my surprise when one of the cutest boys I've ever seen walked up to me and asked "Do you want to dance?"

I followed him to the center of the room my heart pounding with excitement and joy. I barely noticed another couple walking toward us until both boys looked at each other, then us two girls and said "Ok, DANCE!" and then turned around and walked away.

I don't remember much after that, other then the teacher turning on the lights, saying that sort of behavior was totally unacceptable and announcing that the dance was OVER. I may have cried, or I may have saved it until I got home.

The worse part came a few days later when popular girl and neighbor girl made up. I was now once again COMPLETELY on the outs. Now it was girls who were trying to beat me up after school and muttering "Hee Haw" as they passed me in the halls. For Three YEARS.

Things got better after that. We moved to a school where I finally made friends. And maybe, just maybe people were starting to mature. I stopped basing my self worth on what others thought of me, and had help from counselors and teachers with straightening out some of my other issues.

But one thing remained with me. That feeling. That feeling of being rejected and hate for no reason. That feeling of being misunderstood and misrepresented. That colored my every action, for instead of becoming harsh and bitter, I found that I couldn't do ANYTHING without considering other people's feelings first. I'm still that way, and I've tried to train that same concept into my children.

As for all those bullies? I've moved a lot and I now live 1200 miles from every one of them (as far as I know). Ironically enough after signing up for one of those `yearbook' websites I got an email from Mr "Would you like to Dance" . I had helped him with his algebra and made out with him behind the bleachers (and almost got beet up by his girlfriend) in High School. But when he started to reminisce the one thing I kept thinking about was that stupid dance. And so being the spiteful and vindictive person that I am I reminded him about it.

"I did that!?"

"Yes, you did."

"I don't remember"

Lier, how can you forget being that cruel to someone

"I guess we all did stupid things when we were younger," I said

"Yeah, so... my wife is leaving me... "

"Hm, too bad. I happened to be in love with the most amazing man in the world"

"Oh... well the phones ringing I think I better go now"

"Alright have a nice life"

Heh, now if I can just find the Troy's!

It's sixth grade all over again
No - this isn't MY story yet, but I just had to say...

I think N LIKES me *giggle* he just offered to write my name on his VANS! while coloring in the checcker squares...

I may just hold him to that!

Then I'll do your hair and paint your nails
I try not to get stuck on one topic here. After all, I'm sure there are people who would rather not hear about my kids or how much I love my fianc?. But, I usually write what I'm thinking about, and I've found that lately the thing I think about the most is my kids. Maybe because it's been almost a month since I've seen them. When they were never here it was easier. I'm rather good at compartmentalizing, so I would gather up all those thoughts and emotions, stuff them in some deep dark closet in my psyche, close and lock the door, and then go on my merry way. But when their here, the door gets opened. Lately they've been here a lot so it's been open, close, open, close, and you know how kids are, a few flies get in, and then you're sitting on the couch yelling "Who left that door open?!" and to you're surprise it was you!

Anyway, to distract me from the flies, I was hoping I could get you, yes, you reading this, to help me out. I was hoping you could tell me a story. You can leave it the comments or put it on your own blog (after all isn't this all about how narcissistic and selfish we are?) And, since we were just talking about this on Wednesday, here's what I would like to know.

Were you the picker or the pickee in the social hierarchy of school? Do you feel this had an impact on your life? Tell me about a time that you were picked on or that you picked on someone else that was particularly heinous. Was it over time or a one time thing? What did it feel like at the time? How do you feel about it now? Have you seen this person (or people) again since becoming an adult? How did it go? If you haven't would you like to?

I suppose the masochistic side of me would love to hear stories from the bullies point of view.

Thank you all, and you're welcome to pass this on.

I'll post my story in a bit.

To the other man in my life
He would often lay in my arms in the evening. Struggling to sleep because I had told him he needed to. His body would fight the efforts just as mine did when I was his age. Just as mine still does. I would rock him and hum or sing snippets of lullabies hoping that if he focused on that, his body would let go and allow the sandman to collect him.

One night as he lay in my arms, I didn't rock him, or sing. I was distracted, by the day, or the latest fight. He was fidgeting and fighting, needing sleep but too restless to settle in.

"Please go to sleep Buddy, Please! Mommy's tired."

And I was; Tired of being a wife, tired of being mommy, tired of working every day and then coming home to work some more.

"Sing hush baby, Mommy."

"What's that buddy?"

"Sing hush baby, please"

Then he grabbed my hand and snuggled it against his cheek, asking without words for me to stroke his face and forehead with my fingertips.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word. Mommy's gunna buy you a Mocking Bird...."

And so I sang, through the tears in my eyes and the tremor in my voice. Blessed that THIS I could fix. THIS I could do, even when the rest of my world was falling apart. I could sing to my baby and stroke his face, and feel his body relax in my arms and listen to his breathing deepen.

I wish our problems were as easily solved now. I still hesitate every time I reach for him, worried that he'll stiffen and pull away as he has in the past. But he's thirteen now. Even if we hadn't divorced he probably wouldn't say those words. And yet, I long for him to reach for my hand and whisper, "Sing Hush Baby, Mommy."

How can one person, mean so much?
His hands; they captivate me, not in the physical sense but in the visual. They are perfect. Strong square palms, with long aristocratic fingers. Just the right size, any larger and they would look ham handed, thinner and they would be effeminate, smaller and they would look like other hands, that I don't care to think about.

His hands; they bring passion with a caress, compassion with a touch, strength when I stumble and they keep me from falling. I can catch site of them performing the simplest tasks and instantly become entranced. The sureness of his movements enthrall. He'll catch sight of me watching and pause, smiling and cocking his head to one side before asking, "What?"

"You're hands are so sexy."

He'll laugh and go back to his task, untroubled by my attention, but pleased that so simple a thing delights me. Some may say it's wrong for me to be so fixated. After all, his hands will transform with the years. They will twist and knot. They'll collect spots and wrinkles, and eventually will shake and fail him. Yet, I'll love them all the same. Because it's not just the hands. There's a power, a heart behind them, and that will remain long after the strength is gone. And so, I shall always be chained, lovingly, willfully, by His Hands.