Smooth Minimal

I had a wonderful day today, so I'm doing much better than I was last night. I guess the idea of being contacted by someone who I have not talked to in a long while just got to me. I don't understand how someone could totally take another's side and not talk to you for a year or more and then contact you as if nothing had happened. I like the way it's been because it's been so great. Minimal contact is really the best thing for everyone involved. I am very happy and more content than I've been in nine years. I have finally acquired peace and I am not about to give it up. Things are going smoothly and I am afraid of something messing up the balance.

Today I went to see my grandmother. She was so happy to see Katie and Katie was happy to be in a relatively strange place, full of things to touch and explore. She's quite the little snoop. My grandmother said that it's the "girl" in her, which I think sounds strange, but I can't argue with a woman who has had nine children and numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Dirt

This little disclaimer is for anyone who is searching for this blog in order to read some "dirt" about yourself. You found me. Congratulations. You may read this all you want. You may not like what you read, but I don't give a damn. In fact, you may think some of what I've written is terrible, but it's honesty. (A new idea to you, I know.) And in all honesty, I am happy. I have a wonderful husband who I adore and who adores me, and a baby girl who is everything to me. I love them more than I could possibly say. I'll spell it out for you: I hate what you've done to me. I hate what you like to create in your head. I hate what you've done to the man I love. So now you don't have to read those things into anything I've written. You ruined [put any one of your own life circumstances here], not me. My man loves me. So sorry for you.

I just needed to get that off my chest, just in case.


As a side note, a friend DID ask me how my knee was doing post-pole mishap. Although I just went in to tuck Katie into bed and as I walking out, my knee cracked and the noise woke her up again. Now do you want to tell me that I'm not getting old? :)

Is She Having a Laugh?

I've been ratted out, boys! Cute and cuddly!

Did I ever mention that I hate MySpace? Yeah, well, like a moth to a flame (a really hot, beautifully-bright fucking flame), I fell into the MySpace trap. I created a profile. I amused myself with various tidbits of info about myself. (Isn't that what it's all about? Trying to make ourselves believe that we're more important or worldly than we are really?) All was going well until I got a friend request from someone I didn't want to find me because he could create all kinds of hassle for me.

Now, please, I know that it's not that difficult to "find" people on the Internet. But I guess I like being physically and cyberly (I made up that word) left alone, except for the occasional friend or two from my past. Friend is the key word. I had been enjoying catching up with old friends. All of my "friends" on MySpace are my real friends. I know everyone personally. The last thing I need is an in-law checking up on me.

Perhaps I should also mention that my home turf was invaded today by the same person. I got home from a really pleasant lunch date with my little girl to find a rubber tote on my front porch. I peeked inside and a pile of old clothes cradled an 8x10 framed picture of Michael Jackson...with a functioning, real nose. With a red leather, zippered jacket. Weighing in at a whopping 72 pounds. In his Thriller glory days. I laughed and laughed and laughed. Dan's family strikes again. Did they think he needed that and ratty T-shirts from when he was a teenager? Was it their way of getting in touch? So despite feeling a bit invaded by their proximity to my front door, I had a great laugh...and we got some bitchin' new wall art.

Coming to Terms with my Laziness

The Academy Award nominations were announced today and I found myself jealous of Diablo Cody, the writer of Juno. My jealousy actually started several weeks ago when she became a columnist for Entertainment Weekly. It's not that she accomplished two of my biggest dreams. It's the fact that she's 29 and has accomplished two of my biggest dreams.

Now I must admit that I have not necessarily been trying to accomplish any of my writing dreams by writing. I prefer the simmer method of writing. I should be ready to do something about my dreams several years from now. But all of that doesn't diminish the fact that she's my age and she has accomplished so much. It makes me think that maybe, just maybe, if I had applied myself earlier, I could have become an honored writer or columnist too. So maybe I'm not jealous. Maybe I'm just coming to terms with my laziness.

My dad used to always say that if I had to make an effort to breathe, I'd be dead a long time ago. It's funny. It's true. So I'll just read EW and watch the Oscars and live vicariously through a woman my age until I decide to do something about it.

Until then, I'll enjoy my wonderful, if not glamorous, life and write here. I know a great story is in my head and will come to fruition someday...

Pole Dancing 101

During my hiatus, I learned two things about myself while visiting a local playground:

I could never make it as a stripper.
I am not as agile as when I was eight.

Now I'll admit that I have seen strippers "dancing" on poles. They twist their bodies around the pole, sometimes head over heels (literally, HEELS!), all the while making it look easy and surprisingly graceful. And I'll also admit I have secretly thought, "Hey, I could do that!"

But now I have a big black-and-blue mark on my knee that proves that I can't even slide down a pole like a fire fighter. Forget anything graceful or sexy. I can't slide, let alone contort my body around it. Somehow I forgot to keep my legs wrapped around it or something because I basically fell the couple of feet to the ground banging my knee at the bottom for added hurrah. So since my knee is killing me and I am now positive I'd make the world's lousiest pole dancer, I'm not going to try any contorting around a pole anytime soon. I give strippers and eight-year-olds a lot of credit. At least they both decided to stay home from the playground that day.

2008-1978=OLD

I am now thirty.

Sigh.

The strange thing is that the only people telling me I'm crazy to feel old are people over fifty.

Pardon the Interruption

It's been a while since I wrote. The picture sums up my holiday, though. The highlight of the season was my brother and his family coming to visit from Georgia. My six-year-old nephew left the message written in pretzels for me.

When I got my camera to take a picture of it, he said, "Why are you taking a picture of that?"
"Because I want to remember it," I answered.
"Then why don't you just remember it?" he asked.
"Um..." I said, then realized I didn't have an answer.

* * *

We saw I Am Legend. That's right, a semi-scary movie (as "scary" as I get). Okay, I'll admit that I didn't really know it was going to be suspenseful. I subscribe to Entertainment Weekly so I could know those kinds of things, but I guess I didn't read that part. I DID read that Will Smith was in it and that was enough for me. I liked it, but I can't imagine someone not knowing who Bob Marley was, but knowing a family member instead!

* * *

Shortly following the holiday, my little girl was introduced to the magical world of milkshakes. It's a world that I never really entered. I have a tendency to resist things that I think will be utterly delicious because, well, what I don't know exists, I won't want to eat. But I was lured to the creamy concoction and I must say, they are tasty! So we stopped at an Arby's last week to get three (one for Kate, one for me, and one for my mom) strawberry ones. We pulled up to the window to see three people surrounding the milkshake machine. After about ten minutes, a girl brought over three cups and started to hand them to Dan.

She said, "You wanted vanilla, right?"
"No. Strawberry."
"Do you like vanilla?" she asked, smiling ackwardly.
"We ordered strawberry," Dan stumbled.
"Well, these are strawberry!" She blurted out.

A real Houdini of the drive-thru! So we went to McDonald's instead.