Blessings louder than dreams

It's no mystery that this year has been hell for me. That I've had my heart torn out, my confidence challenged, my love dissolved. I've tried not to come right out and say things directly here, but several of you know the not-so-fine details.

I had dreams. Dreams of having 3 children, of having a house on a local lake, with a huge living room full of windows with beautiful views. Dreams of my dogs being lazy in the backyard. Dreams of spending quality time with my husband, of fostering that connection we used to have, dreams of making him happy, which in turn would make me happy.
My dreams-the doors have been shut on those dreams.
I don't even think about that lake house in my heart.
I try not to think about the pain and the hurt and the lies and the fancy footwork of someone who is an expert at convincing you of something you don't want, need, or know.
I do think about the other children I won't be having with him.
I do want more children. And I've said it several times, and I mean it-I will have more babies someday.

I know my dreams will change, are changing.
And that's okay.
There's some indescribable feeling related to those dreams...they are forming slowly, painstakingly, and the new growth is fresh moss green.

I'm struggling so much. I can't make ends meet and I don't really have anyone to ask for help. I've had several sweet people offer to help me, but we all know I have NEVER been good at asking for help, or accepting help when it is offered.

Tuesday night I was blessed by Chris (the long-lost @3giraffes). She didn't have to do it, and I really didn't want to let her, but she helped me anyway. And I'm so appreciative. I love her. She's been there when even my family can't.

Last week a doctor at my job wrote me a prescription for my gum infection. He didn't have to do it, but he did it anyway.

Several times last week, I texted two dear friends in a panic, begging for prayers. They both got back to me immediately. They both checked in on my several times throughout the week. They both gave me simple, kind words that worked to calm me, even if only for a couple of hours.

This past weekend my mom bought Christmas presents for my daughter, since I don't get paid until Christmas Eve. She didn't have to do it, and I certainly did not want her to do it, given her own financial struggles, but she did it anyway.

Tuesday morning I woke up feeling down, with a constant, dull ache in the center of my chest. I laid in bed listening to my blood pumping through my veins, and thought about how futile it was to cry, how miserable it was to wake up feeling lost and alone and thrown away. Dreams of yelling and crying and begging were taking up residence in the deep corners of my brain, and I couldn't push them away.

But Tuesday night, I felt better.

Blessings.

I know I am blessed. I know I should be more thankful all the time. I know things could be worse.

I am so thankful that I am loved, that people give me a chance, that others care about my heart and my life.

Thank you-you know who you are. I couldn't do this hell without you.

Sweetness in a box

Back in January, I was supposed to go to Austin to hang out with some wonderful women. It happened that MzEll was going to be in Austin the same damn weekend, AND! AND! AND! she was going to have her sweet baby Arlo with her, and I was over the moon! I was going to get to meet her and snuggle up to sweet Arlo!...
And then the trip had to be cancelled. I'm really hoping to get it rescheduled sometime in the spring, because I'm not sure I can wait much longer. Unfortunately, MzEll doesn't live in Austin, so I won't get to see her. WAH! No snorgling that sweet baby smell.
So I go to the post office last week, and there's a package for me!

I was patient, and waited till I got home to tear into it, but it was HARD.

When I got home, I nearly sliced my hand with the sissors, I was so excited.

Do you see the cuteness that is that purse!? Omg, if I didn't have to carry a purse that closes for both of my jobs, I would be shoving all my stuff into it right now! So, I am resigned to the fact that I will be using it as a cute lunch bag for my internship. SO.CUTE.

I honestly don't know how she did it, but MzEll gave me two books that have been on my REALLY-WANT-TO-READ list. I want to tear into Loving Frank right now, but omg, I have so much reading to do for my classes. Sigh. All three books are now sitting on my bookshelf, patiently waiting to be opened.

These cards are so adorable! Actually, it was a little kit to decorate the cards, and I opened them right away and got to creating. Now I just have to figure out who I want to send them to. :)

New to-do-list pads!! Super cute!

I have always wanted to try this stuff. And seriously, the packaging is so funny. Look!:

"Size matters"!

I *may* be a 12 year old boy. Sorry.

Back to the lip plumper. It works! And it smells like chocolate. What more could you want?? I put some on my sister's lips, and she flipped out when it started tingling. My upper lip needs all the help it can get, by the way.

Not only were these things in the box, but MzEll also included stickers, magnets, a way cute flower purse, and Hello Kitty jewelry for my girl! I have no photographic proof because the stickers are all over the house, the magnets are a clusterfuck on the bottom of the fridge, and I would be lying if I said I even knew where the jewelry was. That girl has so many hiding places in this house.

How sweet is MzEll?
Thank you sweets! You are lovely and sweet and kind and omg, why must we live on opposite ends of this large-ass state???
<3

For the taking (Part 1)

When I wrote this post, I didn't know what I know now. I was in an oblivious stupor, something I wish I could take back.
As I said in that post, I haven't written about him other than the brief entry here. But I am going to do it now. I have to.

Here is what I previously wrote about him:

"I met him when I was almost 17. It was a hard, dark, lonely time in my stupid teenaged life. He was younger than me, by 2 years. I remember standing at my locker, and feeling someone's eyes on me. When I turned around, he was across the hall, staring. When I caught him staring, he blushed, but did not turn away. He maintained eye contact, and amazingly, smiled. There was weeks of this before I finally broke a mutual friend, begging for him to introduce us. I shouldn't have been nervous or worried.



We met in the hall. We were both late to class; the bell had already rang. I was so down that day; I was staring into my locker, when he said my name. I turned around and there he was, same smile, same shine in the eyes.


I fell hard for him. My friends made fun of me, since he was 2 years younger than me. It was I who picked him up when we would get together; he didn't have his license. He was quiet but not with me. He was silly, goofy, kooky with me. He was so brilliantly talented with music. He was one of the first in well over a year that I allowed to read my poetry. I opened my journals and my heart to him. He wasn't like any of the others. He didn't dress like them, he didn't act like them (other than the quiet part). He acted as though I was fragile when we were together, but helped me break myself when I needed it. He taught me to skateboard (I sucked). We talked on the phone for hours. We laid on my driveway & stared at stars while telling one another our deepest thoughts, our strongest fears.


I took his virginity. He broke my heart. Twice. He deserted me when I needed him so badly, the first time. The second time he deserted me, he fell deep into drugs. I couldn't forgive him, for years. I spent YEARS hurting because of him, because of us. I still get angry & disgusted when I think about how we ended. I still ache when I think of his eyes, his voice, his devotion, his dreams."

His name was Kevin.


He was the middle child. His older brother was the same age as me, in the same grade, but never around. He had a younger brother that he was really protective of. His father wasn't around, and his mother worked hard to provide for her boys. I vaguely remember a boyfriend of his mom's, and Kevin telling me that he didn't really like the guy, that the guy scared the shit out of him and his younger brother.
When we met, he smoked weed with other friends in my group. But when he heard from a mutual friend that shit bothered me, he stopped. At least for awhile.
When we were all hanging out, there were times we would drink. And he was a lush. It still makes me smile, thinking of him stumbling all over the place in our friend's house one night. He had two left feet when he was drunk, and he was a gigglebox.
I remember our first kiss, full of beer & Skittles, lust & fear. He was leaned against the living room wall of the now-abandoned home of one of our friends. Why do I remember the look in his eye, but not the taste of his lips?
He was full of music and life. He encouraged me to write. I argued with him about his diabetes. He played the bass guitar while I wrote lyrics to songs still unsung. We fell asleep on the phone many times- I would wake in the morning to the dial tone at the other end of the phone. Or, sometimes, the soft purr of his snore.
He said sweet things that he meant, that crushed my heart.
He was non-judgemental, and careless with his blood sugar.
I took his virginity. I cried.
He wanted more; I wanted more.
Somehow, we wanted different things.
I remember arguing in the kitchen of my father's house. I remember seeing an anger I had never seen before, directed towards me. I let him walk out the door.
*****
Months went by; the rest of the summer burned off, and school started again. I would hear his laugh in the halls sometimes, and my stomach would drop.
I really missed him.
I had heard from others that he was doing drugs, skipping school, working to help his mother pay the bills. I heard he was still ignoring his blood sugar.
I am not made of magic, but I drove by his house anyway, skipping class.
I stood outside the door, nervous and close to tears. He didn't answer. I walked around back, hoping no one saw me. I knew how to sneak in the back door.
I slid up the stairs to the room he shared with his younger brother, melodies luring me behind his closed door. I knocked, whispered his name.
I opened the door and found him sprawled on his bed. He looked peaceful.
He wouldn't wake up.
I'll spare you the details, but I can say that I have never pushed a needle in someone's skin before, or since. I heard my blood rush in my ears. I couldn't breathe. I called 911. I shook him awake, barely. Blood sugar. I ran down the stairs, let the paramedics in, and bailed.
That was the last time I ever saw him.

Where I whine & complain (& maybe lose some friends?)

So I have a minor dilemma (besides "Chocolate cake-to eat, or not to eat?"), and who better to ask than the internet, right? I mean, I have like 4 readers left after my long-ass mystery disappearance, so, it can't hurt to ask, right? Hell, the people I'm referring to (below) probably don't read anymore anyway.

I find myself to be pretty laidback. Low expectations, easy going, kind, funny, fun to be around. I mean, I don't think I'm exaggerating here: I'm a decent friend. Loyal, caring, blah blah blah.

So, when I ask something of others, it's usually important, right? Like "Hey, every holiday my kid is the only kid at my house, and it's sorta lonesome for her. How about this year you stop by with your kids, even if only for 30 minutes, so my girl isn't alone". I know it's someone else's fault that my brother and I are 10 years apart; my sister and I are 19 years apart-so I get that it's not my friends' fault that I have no nieces or nephews, no cousins for my girl. I get that.
And I know it's someone else's fault that I have 3 nephews and one niece on my hubby's side that we never see. As in, the last time I saw one of them, he was a toddler, and now he's in middle school. And it's certainly not my girl's fault that these cousins and uncles have absolutely no relationship with her.
And I get that the holidays are a crazy time. Everyone is running between 4 different houses, and just one more stop is the pain in the ass. I get that.
So, yeah, I'm asking a lot. I get it, for pete's sake.
So I send an email out, letting all my friends know it's no biggie, but it would be greatly appreciated. I had several people right off the bat say that they couldn't make it because they would be out of town. No biggie. I had about 20 people (including their spouses and kids) say 'Sure! We will stop by for a bit somewhere around blah o'clock.'
So.
My girl and I pick out presents for the kids of said friends.
And my hubby and I buy a shit-ton of food.
And then it snows.
So there were a couple of people who couldn't make it because of the weather. And I totally get that. No biggie.
But only one of them even bothered to call/email me.
The rest? I had to text them.
And a couple, had absolutely no excuse.
And a couple STILL haven't returned my text. It's fucking January 14th, people.

And all day I had to play it off, fielding my girl's questions: "When will so and so be here?" "Is so and so coming to play with me?"

Fuck me.

And I'm not even gonna bother to lie about this: It really hurt my feelings. I mean, seriously. I feel like I do a great job of being there for others. I go out of my way to watch other people's kids, set up playdates, support birthdays & parties, and just be there emotionally. And it's not like I didn't tell any of my close friends about this MONTHS ago. They KNOW how much it bugs me that my girl is the only kid in the middle of adults who drink too much and ignore her (not all of them; just some of them).

So, I tried not to cry, put away all the food, and carried on. Because I didn't want my girl to see me cry. And I didn't want my own feelings to affect my girl's holiday. So I told her the snow had slowed people down, and she played a ferocious game of Hungry Hippo with my dad, brother, and sister.

I said I was over it, but the reality is this: I took down my Christmas tree, and there are still a dozen presents from my girl to other kids under the tree. And every day, my girl asks me "When can I give so and so her present?" And I tell her "Soon, baby, soon". But really?
Today I put the gifts in the hallway closet. And I haven't emailed those friends since New Year's Eve, when I was dumb enough to invite them all over for New Year's.
I am not over it. My feelings are hurt. I am angry. I am feeling let down.

I am not talking about the one that emailed me because of the weather, or even the two that responded to my texts by saying the weather was keeping them in. I'm talking about the ones that didn't bother to respond to my texts, after they were all gung-ho about coming over in the first place. I'm talking about the ones that had shit-hole excuses.

And then begins the huge descent into the valley of disgust:

Am I fooling myself into thinking these people are really my friends?
Am I annoying?
Am I as annoying as my father?
Am I a bad friend?
Did I do or say something wrong?
Am I reading too much into this?
Do I value their friendship more than they value mine?

And I'm disgusted that I let it affect me like this. I'm disgusted that I am all wishy-washy about what to do with these gifts, that are still wrapped, for these kids of these friends who could give two shits about me and my daughter. I'm so disappointed in a couple of them. I mean, seriously? I've been to almost every birthday party of every one of these kids. I give birthday presents to these friends. I invite them to do stuff. I'm just flat out disgusted.

So advice please:

-Do I return the gifts? Or do I keep them and give them when these people finally hang out with me again?
-Do I say anything to said friends? Or do I just let it go and continue being my usual self, emailing regularly, texting, etc.?
-Do I continue the friendship? Or do I let it take a backseat to the friendships with those that did show up?

I just don't know what to do at this point. I don't want to appear whiny or desperate (well, FAIL there). I don't want these people to dote on me, beg for forgiveness, or kiss my ass. I guess maybe I would just like some acknowledgement that they hurt my feelings.
Aw, fuck. I don't know.

Happy fucking new year.

 

Is today Thursday? Is it October? WTF?

I'm pretty sure this week is the longest week in.existence. I am worn the fuck out, my allergies are kicking my ass, I haven't posted, my reading for school has suffered, my house looks like a tornado dropped the medicine aisle of a drug store on it, and I haven't exercised. Or worn anything remotely sexy or even decent.
My girl's cough is still alive and phlegmy. We are on day 5 of a sneaky-ass fever. I'm waiting on the doctor's office to open, so I can pretend I didn't just scour the CDC's website about the H1N1 virus. I'm trying not to flip flop out.
All that being said, the point of my post is not to think about the damn flu or complain about how I feel. It is for this:


Happy Birthday to my sweet friend, Peggy. Yes, she lives in New York, and no, we haven't officially met, hugged, and Squeeeeee!'ed, but I love her just the same. She makes me smile and laugh, and she's WONDERFUL. Also, go check out her website Lil Foot Designs, where you can buy the softest blankets for your babies EVAH.
(And Peggy, I'm sorry you won't be getting a birthday card from me, since it's still sitting on my kitchen counter, waiting on a stamp. xoxo)

Two open letters to two separate people about two different things

[Begin rant]

Dear I-know -what- you -did -that- drunken -night- several- years -ago:

We aren't really that close. In fact, I haven't talked to you on the phone in a good two years, nor have we hung out or even seen one another. You have a child now, that just turned one, that I've never met. You've seen my girl twice, and she's 4. So, are we really friends? Probably not.

That being said, we had some good times together. Remember the time I drove home tipsy from the bar and backed into that parked car? How about the time we went drinking downtown, and some girl passed out, fell, and cracked her head on the steps of a club, and I bent over to help her, and you called me a 'heroooooo'? What about all the times I had to basically carry you to your car, over served, and we giggled the whole way home? How about the time we made out?

Oh. Wait.

Did I just say that out loud?

Oh, yes, YES I DID.

See, here's my issue: I saw your Facebook page. I saw the funny ha-ha jokes about girls who make out with other girls, about lesbians, your comments about how disgusting that is....
Yet...
Yeah, you want to forget that night happened, don't you? As I recall, the next day, hungover and pale, you came over to 'talk' with me, saying you didn't know what came over you, that it would never happen again, that you were hammered. But it did. More than once.
That's totally fine. I don't see what the big deal is anyway.
But to totally act like it's disgusting and 'gross in a gross way'? Seriously?

Out of all of it, I think I can't be your friend because you aren't honest with yourself OR others.

Sincerely,
The girl you kissed

*********

Dear Sweet woman who has gone through an awful loss-

I met you online, via blogging, just like I have so many other wonderful women. Your story moved me. Your past saddened me, but out of the wreckage, it seemed, had come this wonderfully strong woman who was doing her best at being a good mother. We commented on one another's posts, emailed back and forth, and at some point, exchanged phone numbers. You had no problem giving me your cell phone number.
We never talked on the phone, although I'm not sure why.
I sent you a birthday card. You had no problem giving me your home address.

You found out you were pregnant, and I 'squeeeeeee'-ed about it constantly. I started thinking about the sweet little things I would buy on Etsy for your sweet baby, although I knew I probably wouldn't meet you or your children for awhile, since you live a couple of states away.

You found out your child would not live long once out of your womb, and I was heart stricken. I emailed you, commented on your painful posts, prayed, prayed, prayed. You shared a lot on your blog about this pregnancy, about your pain, your worry, your anger. You shared a lot. You had tons of new followers, people who had heard about you, and were now following your story.

I prayed nightly for a woman I didn't know. I prayed for peace for your family, for a miracle for your unborn child. When I couldn't sleep, I thought about your and your family.
You included me in your personal emails to your friends and family; you emailed me. I thought this meant you considered me a friend? I am not sure how else I could have shown you that I could be a friend, an IRL friend, not just someone online, faceless and hidden.

The night before you were to give birth, you sent another email out to all of your friends and family, and again included me.

The day you were to give birth, I woke up early to pray. I called a very close friend of mine, and asked him to pray for you and your family. I went to class, but was distracted, wondering about you, if you were okay, if your baby had been born. You said you may update your blog the day of the birth, so I checked a couple of times throughout the day. I prayed.

That night, feeling worried for you, I hit "reply all" to your family & friends email, two short sentences asking if anyone had heard from you, if you were okay; I was worried. I did not ask about the baby. I didn't not ask for details. I was simply worried about you; how were you holding up?

Two people replied rather quickly, telling me more than I asked for. I thanked them both for letting me know that you were as okay as you could possibly be in this situation.

A few days later, you texted me, telling me you were upset with me for contacting your friends and family. I apologized, although, I must admit, I was confused. You were angry, obviously, angry that I had 'intruded'. You felt that I was forcing you to talk about something you weren't ready to talk about-the birth. I explained that I was sincerely just worried about my friend, YOU, and had not even asked about the baby. I wasn't your friend for the sake of the drama. I was your friend because that's what I do.

Later that day, you posted, and I commented. Immediately, you emailed me, asking me to stay away from your blog, to not comment any longer, that you are a private person and didn't feel comfortable with my intrusion, although you "knew" I was just trying to be nice.

Can I say that it really hurt my feelings? Can I say that I sat there in front of my laptop for awhile, typing reply after reply that I deleted? Can I say that I emailed your email to a couple of very close friends, asking them for feedback? Was I overbearing, inappropriate, intruding?

I chalked it up to your grief. I felt that it wasn't really fair to me for you to do this, but I totally understood that you were going through something no one should have to go through. I prayed about it, I found patience in spite of my hurt feelings.

I gave you your space. I never replied to your email.

I continued to pray for you.

My feelings stopped being hurt after awhile.

I went to your blog a couple of weeks ago, because I had dreamt of you. You were on my mind. So I went to your blog. I won't bother to tell you what I read; it doesn't even matter anymore.
But what upset me was this: you made mention of deciding that there were people you didn't want in your life. And I had a feeling you might mean me, since it's been several months since we've had any contact. And?

It pissed me right off.

I'm still pissed. I take offense to you honestly feeling that I was intruding by trying to see if you were okay. I take offense that you say you are a private person, that you felt uncomfortable with my concern. How can you honestly say that to me? Do I look dumb? Do I look like someone who will fall for that bullshit line? You have a blog; you can't possibly be that private. You shared intimate feelings and experiences on your blog; not to a few readers, but to several dozen. You included me in your private emails to your family and friends, yet told me more than once that you didn't even know me; that I didn't even know you. And even after you told me you wanted space, you obviously continued to share your very private story online.

Honestly, I am happy that you have such good readership; it means that there are many who are praying for you, hoping good things for you.But I just don't get it. I just don't get the real reasoning behind being rude and hurtful towards me, and basically shutting me out.

At this point, I see that my time as a friend to you is over. That maybe I was only needed to pray for you during that time; there will be nothing else. And I'm fine with that; I really am.
But I simply want you to know, that if you truly believe that we didn't know one another, than you can be pretty confident in thinking that I treat my friends better than I treat my acquaintances. Because, by your line of thinking, we weren't friends, merely online acquaintances. And look how much time and effort and tears I put into you, this acquaintance.

I mean no harm to anyone that I meet and I am fiercely loyal to my friends, whether they are IRL or only online. I am sorry you thought I wasn't a friend; I guess I was mistaken. However, I am not sorry that I tried to be your friend, although I learned a valuable lesson in this, and am now only putting my heart, my time, my loyalty in friendships where the feeling is obviously mutual.

Good luck to you. May you find peace in your life.

Sincerely,
Someone who could have been a friend

[End rant]

Wordless Wednesday on Thursday (shut it!)

Only children can be this ridiculously giddy and content at splashing several hundred gallons of water at the dog, the house, and each other.

Enough energy to run a marathon (down the hallway)

Recently, my dear friend Stephanie (who is pregnant and due in August with a boy! Squeeeeee!) and her husband came to visit. We intended to play Wii all night, but we were lazy and appareantly we are old, because we did nothing but watch TV and the girls.

My girl & Micah ran up and down the hallway, in and out of the living room, yelling, squealing, and laughing. They played, they argued, they giggled, and honestly, it was a joy to hear their cute little voices all night.

Here's what the last 10 minutes of the visit looked like, while us adults were yawning and begging for a pillow to rest our heads on:

The wrestling match ended when we pulled them both off the couch and made them say their sweet goodbyes.

Ahhh, to have that kind of energy at 11:00 at night.

Truth

I've spent a large amount of my life in between. I am stuck in the past, re-reading it, dreaming it, mourning things, missing people, trying to figure it all out. My mind stretches out to the future as well: my girl being in elementary school, when she stops wanting me to hold her and breathe in her smell, her going to high school, my parents getting older, imagining where I will be 5 years from now in my professional life. I rarely stay in the "now"; it's next to impossible for me.
During one of my most memorable times in my life, I hung out with a group of people (mostly males) that I really enjoyed spending time with. We were lazy together, watching old movies and making runs to Jack in the Box at 2am. We were silly together, toilet papering each other's houses and drinking until we were giddy with laughter. We shared private things with one another on a regular basis-We would sit in the dark of John's room, all in our own spots-me in a comfy chair, John on his bed, someone spread out on the floor, someone else curled up in another chair. We would play a "truth or dare" of sorts, but without the dares.
(It's funny for me to just now realize that another group of friends I had my senior year of high school did the same thing, except we did it in a friend's truck. We all sat in his truck in the dark, in the middle of a large pasture, and shared fears, dreams, worries, secrets with one another. This just came to me now.)
In the dark, our secrets were safe. Our truths came out so easily. There was very little stuttering hesitation. Sadness over losing a friend was easier to bear in the dark. As was the loss of a long-time relationship or a relative. Complaining about family problems bonded us together as well.
One night, we were all a bit tipsy when we decided to go to a set of railroad tracks. I still cringe when I drive by them, as I was the one who introduced them all to this place. The tracks cut through pasture land, and eventually ran over the local highway. Just before dropping off over the highway, there was a church. We drove behind the church, did a little off-roading in the dirt to get to the tracks, which happened to have a 40 foot drop to a creek below, right behind the church.
We were all in melancholy moods that night; I do remember that. We sat on the tracks for awhile, legs dangling over the bridge, throwing empty beer bottles and rocks into the creek below. It was warm, and I remember wishing for something colder than the beer.
Someone decided that we should do our nightly "Truth or Dare" out here; it was dark, save for the thousands of stars spying down on us.
As we each brought up a truth, the fog over our moods lifted. Except for John.
When it was his turn, instead of speaking up, he stood up. He was extremely drunk by that time, and we didn't know it until we saw him staggering and swaying on the tracks. He didn't drink often, and I had never seen him drunk before.
I don't even remember what he was upset about. I only remember that his truth was that he wanted to die. And he started walking down the tracks, towards the highway.
We had to tread lightly, because if he pulled away from us, it was a good 40-foot drop to the creek below. He made it to the highway, with all of us following behind, begging, comforting, pleading.
Only one of us walked out over the highway with him. Only one of us sat down on the tracks, legs dangling over the busy highway, to talk with him. Only one of us grabbed his arm and talked him into walking back to the safety of solid land.
We drove back to his place in silence. We walked into his dark bedroom, and we all laid down on the floor, while he got in bed. None of us spoke.
*************
I no longer talk to anyone in that group, from that summer. I saw John and one other good friend from that summer, about 8 months ago. They are both well, married, with kids, happy wives, beautiful smiles.
I marvel that none of us knew each other that well, but we shared dark secrets with one another. Our secrets were safe with one another; there was no judging, questioning, or confusion. There were no boundaries, yet, all of us had an unspoken understanding that this was sacred. There was a freedom in sharing with one another, a release of sorts at letting the secret/fear/worry out into the open air.
I drive by that spot where the tracks and the highway meet sometimes, and I think about the girl I was back then. I think about my secrets, my "truths" that I shared with people who are nowhere in my life now, and I wonder what life would have become for all of us if we had never shared with one another.
**********************
This is how I feel about the blogging community as well. I think about the strength that comes in numbers, the miracles that happen from people all over the world praying, the things I would not have experienced if I had not begun blogging. I feel blessed to have met so many wonderful people. I marvel at the simple fact that I can truly say I have friends all over this country (and even a few in other countries!), who really know me, in spite of never meeting me. We have shared secrets, fears, truths, griefs with one another, in the dark of our living rooms, taking turns holding one another's hands, lifting one another's chins. I have found people who make me feel comfortable in my own skin. I have found people who help me realize that I am not alone in my experiences. People have found me that lift me up, as I do them. That same freedom exists here, that same release, and I am so thankful, so blessed.

The coming of Issac

Recently I mentioned my friend who is going to be giving birth to a baby with Anencephaly. Well, her sweet baby Isaac is coming sooner than originally thought. Instead of the beginning of May, baby Isaac will now be here April 8th. And while I have issues, concerns, stresses of my own, I have spent a lot of time this week, usually in the dead of the night, thinking about her, Issac, how fragile life is, how confusing the whole situation is. I am sad, but I know my sadness does not equal even the teeniest tiniest part of the tip of her iceberg of sadness.
Like this post, I am feeling ungrateful for my blessings. I know that I am blessed, am thankful for it, and try to keep in the forefront of my mind this fact. However, right now, I feel self-absorbed, selfish, and ungrateful for my blessings. How can I be crying over things (very important to me) when baby Isaac will not live? How can I grow angry at my daughter when she flat-out refuses to sit on her ass for 2 seconds during dinner, when baby Isaac will not go home from the hospital? Why am I complaining about the 'need' to find a tropical beach to rest, when Misty and her family are finding a way to plan and pay for a funeral?
Please, all I'm asking is that, if you pray, please pray for Misty and her family. Pray for a safe delivery, a sufficient amount of life for baby Isaac, so that all those who love him can hold him, cuddle him, lay eyes on this gift. If you don't pray, think positive thoughts or send good vibes her way.

Monday

I have joyful things to blog about-things coming up in my life, strong people I have discovered, an interesting website I have found....but today I am posting about something different.

I posted recently about my friend, how she is going through something wonderful, that will end in devastation (in my mind). I am so very sad to know that, while she is beautifully pregnant, her baby will not survive.

Somehow, over the past several months, prior to finding out about my friend's baby, I had stumbled upon several other blogs that archived the intense pain that comes with losing a baby. The pages sucked me in, and I would look up at the clock, realizing I had spent 2 hours reading these words, feeling this pain. I couldn't figure out why I was reading this stuff; what was making me go back for more updates? Then I found out about my friend's baby boy. And now, I think about her and her family every day, how someday I will be reading her baby's birth story, and well-aware that I will be hundreds of miles away when this little blessing is born.

Someone has come up with a wonderful idea, and I wanted to share it with you. Lara at Overstuffed with Laughter has set up a PayPal account to donate to Misty and her family. They need to budget for a burial for baby Isaac. If you can help, even just a few dollars, I know it would be graciously appreciated. I know it will not fix things, but it will ease the anxiety and pain during this time.

I am attaching the link to the button on the right side of my blog ------>.

(And so you know, my friend did not ask me to post about this; I am doing this on my own).

My ridiculous birthday wish

Well, since I can't have my computer back, nor can I have world peace, or a stable economy, or a horse, or a full day devoted to enjoyable reading, or a bottomless bank account, or endless cupcakes that don't adhere directly to my ass, or a 2 acre lot with a couple 100 big, old-ass trees, or a 1969 Corvette, or my old man dog back, or enough $ to make a big difference in Camden, NJ, or a front row seat to the Northern Lights, or a surprise trip to Italy, or enough $ to set my mom and sister up for life, or a personal chef, or an endless supply of gift cards to some of my favorite places, or all my favorite CDs signed by the artists or all my favorite books signed by the authors, or a cure for cancer, HIV, lupus, & Alzheimer's, or....

You get the point, right? I could keep going, if you want. No? Oh, okayyyyyy.

What I want is for all my faraway friends to come visit me. You know who you are! Chris, Peggy, Nicole, Jodi, Misty, Alan, Holly, Dynamita, ChibiJeebs, Biddy........
And all of the people I read and love, but I guess I can't really consider them friends without sounding like a stalker: The Coconut Diaries, Sundry, Notthatyouasked, La Petite Chic, Sensibly Sassy, Shamelessly Sassy, My Vocabulary, Dad Gone Mad, The Bloggess, Princess Nebraska, Better Now, Moo, Girls Gone Child, Swistle, Fiona Picklebottom.....

I know I'm leaving people out. So if you read this, and am hurt that I didn't mention you in my stalking list, please feel free to leave me a comment with your name, address, and when you are available for said stalking.

So, I want all of you to come visit me, have several shots of tequila with me, a couple of Dirty Girl Scouts, several bottles of wine, and then dance like an idiot with me. Ignore the irrationality of this entire idea. Just GO WITH IT.

How's that sound for a fun weekend? I'll be waiting at the airport. And if you can't make it? Well, a 1969 Corvette should do.

Pain not my own

All my life, I have been sensitive. I have cried when I've been physically hurt. I have crumbled inside when I have been emotionally run over. I have ached for others' bad or sad situations. I have reached my arms out to many people over the years, trying to help. That's just what I do; I help.

When I worked at CPS (Child Protective Services, for those of you not in Texas; each state calls it something different), I gave and gave and gave. AND GAVE. Of myself, my love, my attention, my hope. I was determined to build something positive out of the train wreck of these people's lives. And I did, sometimes. Not always in the ways I wanted, or as often as I would have liked, but I know I planted the seed.

I left CPS for many reasons, but the big one was this: I could no longer carry the weight of despair. Not only did it sit heavy on my shoulders, but it was like lead in my heart. I found that even the largest positive ending to a case did not ease the load. I had spent too many years making others' pain my own, others' problems my own. I had to get out from under all of it before it destroyed me.

I thought leaving CPS would be the key. And to an extent, it has been. But, I find that I still empathize to an alarming degree, to the point of caregiver fatigue. I still swallow others' disasters. They lay claim to a tiny piece of my soul. I know all the ways, the techniques, to avoid this, yet I still do it. It's automatic. It's just me.

That being said, I found two blogs last summer that have really been heart wrenching for me: Bring the Rain and matt, liz, & madeline . Both deal with death, and the loss of someone you love with every fiber of your being. I cannot make it through one of matt's posts without tearing up, and subsequently sitting in held-breath silence, staring off into space. His pain is palpable.
I started from the beginning on Angie's blog, and I can't make it through without becoming a basket case. Sometimes, when I see new posts on Matt's blog pop up on my google reader, I just avoid them. I.just.can't.

I spend a substantial amount of time mulling over these people after reading the posts. I try to imagine being in their shoes-the anguish, anger, fear, rage, the unyielding feeling of being alone. I just cannot imagine that I would be as strong as they are.

However, I strongly suggest reading these blogs. First, it helps me to know that others swallow these stories whole. But also, the strength, hope, and faith they both possess is to be admired. While they do hurt me, they also remind me just how lucky I am, how blessed I have been in my life. How you can build a new life out of wreckage.

I have a dear bloggy friend who is going through something serious, something so indescribably painful and heartbreaking that I cannot even explain it, even if it was my story to tell. But. It is not my story to tell. All I can say is that I am thinking of her, and wishing that we were IRL friends, so I could hold her, cry with her, rage for her, and somehow make it better. I lie up at night, praying for the miracle that is meant to happen for her and her family. I ask Why, Why, WHY? over and over, knowing that no one can give me an answer that will satisfy. I am swallowing her pain whole, and I am trying to avoid it.

******************************************
Check out the badge on the rightside of my blog. It's a wonderful foundation set up in memory of matt's wife, Liz. I am so glad someone came up with the idea!

Our hair, the ham, & a wonderful surprise

I promised, so here are pictures of my hair. I wish I could take a picture of the back, but I suck. Also? My camera is not as good as all those SLR thingys every blogger seems to use. So...ignore the bad photography, the lack of make-up, the mess in the background, and focus on the hair.

I decided to post a couple pictures of my crazy girl, who acts like such a ham in front of the camera. Take a look at her hair in some of these pictures. The poor kid is doomed.

She was so excited about her very own Romo jersey.
Blurry, but she's still cute. Jeez, what's up with my lack of photography skills??

And then!

A wonderful surprise. The day after Christmas, I went to my house to let my dogs out. As I was leaving, I noticed a box on my porch. An Anthropologie box. I suspected my husband at first, because he got this grin on his face when I held it up for him to see. I tore into it in the truck, and O.M.G. My new friend Chris completely caught me off guard, and bought me this gorgeous bowl! I had just been at Anthropologie a couple of days before, drooling over it. I was not expecting anything at all from her, and felt special, sorta like this lady. (Now, if someone could please offer up her writing talent & camera, I'd be sooo happy)

(I am again righteously miffed at how my pictures are coming out. WTF?)

But do you know what put the lump in my throat? The gift was heartfelt, sincere, spontaneous, unexpected, sweet, and lovely, but it was this:

My heart became a pile of mush at this little teeny tiny note. I marvel at this blogging community, at how the Internet has harvested new friendships, at how we can truly befriend someone that lives on the other side of the country (or in another country, for that matter), and they can be as close and dear to us as the friend we see every day.

Thank you, Chris. I absolutely adore it!!! And I am thankful for the newfound friendship, I truly am.

Regret the size of my heart

I originally posted this on my blog on myspace August 23, 2006. I read this post by Moo the other day, and it made me think of this one. As of today, I have still never had any response from this person. Yet, this person still shows up in my dreams, and for days afterward, he stays on my mind.
I wonder what we are supposed to do when we are not forgiven. How should we take it? When do we forgive the person for not forgiving us? How? When does my heart stop hurting at the thought of this person, who was a dear friend, and nothing more, this person who will not speak to me, has not spoken to me in over 10 years? How do I forgive myself for ruining a good friendship?How do I just 'let it go'? --

So, I had this really awesome friend in high school. He was so funny, laid back, sweet, athletic, smart,and really loyal. I adored his family. I wanted to live at his house, but I don't recall that I was ever there day after day.....
We continued being friends once we both started college. I even went to hang out with him on his campus during the summer. I enjoyed my time with him there, but was startled to discover something new about him that I had never known before, and it scared the living shit out of me. He begged me to keep it a secret, and not tell anyone. I was so torn. I can't watch someone drown and not lend a hand. Have you seen those commercials that have a kid lying in the middle of the road and his friend sees an 18 wheeler coming, but doesn't move to help his friend in the road? Or the one where the kid is drowning in the lake and the friend is standing on the dock and isn't sure if he should help? They are 'say no to drugs' commercials.
Anyway, I was the person standing on the side of the road, or standing on the dock. I wanted to be as loyal as him, and make a promise that he wanted me to keep. I wanted to keep his secret, and make him happy. But, I couldn't keep my damn mouth shut too much.
He doesn't know this, but when I went home, I spent several days not sleeping...tossing and turning this crap in my mind. I was torn, and I have spent most of my life being torn when it comes to making decisions (damn it! why'd I have to be born a Pisces????). I wanted so badly to keep his secret. As far as I know, he has kept a few of my secrets from high school, so it only seemed fair, right? But if I kept his secret, it would destroy me, and possibly him, so....
I, in a roundabout way, told who needed to know that something was going on. I didn't say exactly what I saw or knew, just enough to get the point across.
And, somehow, we never spoke again. I don't know if we just lost touch, or if he thought I told and was pissed, or if we just grew up and away. I don't really know. But I know that a few years later I found him on Classmates and saw that he was doing sooooo much better.
And now, with the lovely discovery of the black hole that is MySpace, I have found him again...only to get no response. I have no idea if he is angry with me, or is just too busy to chat it up with an old friend, but:
If you are reading this, you know who you are. I am sorry for telling, but really, I am NOT sorry, because I feel that it was the best thing to happen for your sake. I could not have lived with myself if something hideous had happened to you. I did not want to look in your pretty eyes someday and see that the life had been extinguished. I hope you are doing well (seems that you are!) and I hope you can forgive me, if you are angry. I'd love to be friends again.

Two good friends

Alright, so somehow I started this tradition of posting something nice about my dear friends on their birthdays. However, I missed two people's birthdays, and not because I forgot their birthdays, but because I.....forgot to post! Jeez, I suck!
Anyway, a day late, a dollar short, blah blah.......



First off, my dear friend Zelvis (and yes, he is as unique as his name!) He was the first person I really remember meeting in 2nd grade. He was an awesome breakdancer, and I remember a whole group of kids circling around him to watch his moves during recess.


Zelvis has a smile that lights up the room. He is so very smart, sensitive, funny, talented....I could go on and on.


We were in band together all through middle school, and in high school, until we both dropped out (me because I was sick of being a band geek, and him because he was in like EVERY sport). There was this one time I remember he punched a guy that was bugging me in band. It was awesome! He always had my back.


In 8th grade, over the summer, he was not allowed to leave the house. But I was having a pool party, and my mom went and picked him up anyway, and brought him to the party. My mom threw his clothes in the dryer, and dropped him off before his parents got home.


In 5th grade, our math teacher caught us passing a note across the classroom. Not only did she read it in front of the class, not only did she post it on the door of her room, but she also said to me, with a straight face: 'White girls should not be talking to black boys'. No really, she said that. NO.REALLY. And I immediately told my mother, who immediately called the school. I was livid when she said that to me. Like I gave a crap what color anyone's skin was?? And what the hell right does anyone have to tell me who I can and can't talk to?? Oh, and why the hell was she a teacher???


One of the absolute best things about Zelvis is his ability to enlighten me, empower me, and bring me closer to God. He has a faith that I can only hope to grow into. He has a powerful voice, and a huge heart. Every time we are together, or even just every time we talk, he teaches me something about God, faith, hope, or the Bible, that I didn't know before. He has eased pain in my heart before, whether he knows it or not. If I am feeling lost, or upset about a situation in my life, I can call him, and not only will he provide kind words, but he will pray with me, and he will ease my fears.


For the past several years, we seem to have been connected spiritually. When I am going through things in my life, I will have a dream where I am looking for him in a huge group of people. I can hear his voice, see his bald head, catch a glimpse of his laugh, and I'm pushing through all these people, calling his name. When I finally reach him, he's got this huge smile on his face, and all he does it open his arms, to embrace me. And each time, in my dream, I say 'That is what I needed'. And when I next talk to him, he will tell me that he'd been dreaming about me, or I was on his mind.


There is a connection there that speaks strongly to my heart. I don't want to think about what life would be like without him.


He is my girl's godfather. Who else would I think to ask? And my girl adores him, just as everyone else in my family does.

He has a gorgeous daughter who is about 7 months older than my daughter. They don't see each other much, but they seem to like one another. It makes me so happy that our girls are growing up together, and also sorta awes me.










***





I met Stephanie in 3rd grade. I don't even remember how we met, but I do know we were in the same class, and she laughed at my frustration when the teacher butchered my last name, over and over.


Stephanie was shy, a bit quiet, and much more reserved than I. I'm not really sure how we bonded, but we did! We had great sleepovers, we went to our first concert together (New Kids on the Block), and we were insanely silly in school together. Over the years, I think I may have had some effect on her personality-I seemed to draw her out a little bit, and I know for a fact I 'educated' her about stuff she probably didn't need to know! (jeez, makes me sound like a whore, but I swear I wasn't!) I urged her to tell a guy she liked him in high school; I made her try out for the drill team; I made her talk to people out in public.


Stephanie's family is wonderful. They always made me feel very welcome, and I actually feel like I am one of them when I am around them.


Steff moved back and forth from here to Houston several times throughout our childhoods. But, we wrote each other, called each other, and always got right back into our comfy friendship when she moved back.


One time, (and I have to tell this story because I know it will make Steff laugh), I went on a family vacation with her family. We went to Houston (of course!) and stayed in a fancy hotel. I don't remember all the details, but while we were in the hotel, she kept saying 'Like a big dog' over and over. I told her that if she didn't stop saying it, I was going to 'give her a knuckle sandwich'. She said it again, and....I gave her a knuckle sandwich. Right in the belly.


And she proceeded to cry and lock herself in the bathroom.


Now, how nice was I to do that, on HER family vacation??? Jeez, who was I?


Anyway, I'm pretty sure that's the only time I got physical (and we were in 6th grade, I think), and somehow, our friendship withstood my mean streak.


Steff & I have not been able to hang out as much as we once did. She's been in different places during her marriage, and now she lives in BFE (in Anna, Texas, which is like 70000000 miles from my house, I swear!) (Okay, it's probably 70 miles?, but come on!!!) We did happen to be pregnant at the same time, and there is a picture of us somewhere, with our bellies touching. It's adorable. (Wouldn't surprise me if my dog ate that one too-frickin' dog). Our girls are only a few months apart, and they are just crazy about each other, once they warm up to one another.


Steff is an awesome friend. She makes me feel like I might know what I'm talking about, when she calls me and asks for advice. She makes me laugh at her innocence (I really don't always mean to giggle, but I do!) and I love her friendship.








***

When I feel shitty, or down, or in a funk, or just pissed about stuff in my life, I try to remember that I have some very wonderful friends that have been with me through a large part of my life. Steff, Zelvis, Jill, Amanda, Kristy....they are all so special to me, and they have all helped keep me sane, in so many ways.

BFFs

Text messages between Jill & I earlier today, when she was leaving her office to grab some lunch:

Jill: i hate skinny bitches

Me: LOL! me 2! trip her!

Jill: eh..we were in the elevator so she was standing still. but i did shoot daggers into the back of her head.

Me: You should have cornered her and force-fed her pastries covered in lard!

Jill: Ha! instead i just got myself a pastry with a side of lard. that'll teach her!

Me: HA! Take that, beYOTCH!!

::

Jill and I spend our work days instant-messaging and texting one another. I do get a lot of work done, although my boss doesn't always think so. It is just so nice to have someone right there that I can send my thoughts to. We talk about food a lot, our girls, the past, our problems. We rant and rave, and totally support one another. And she gets me. We complete each other's thoughts sometimes.

I have known Jill since 5th grade. A couple of years ago we found out that we were both invited to the birthday party of our mutual friend Steff, back in 3rd grade. I don't remember being there, and I certainly don't remember anyone else. Which, is amazing in of itself, because I remember everything (Not like the person who actually remembers every bit of life since she was born-that would be MADDENING). So, I say I've known her since 5th grade, but it could actually be longer; who knows.

Jill & I had homeroom together, with Mrs. Brown. We also had history together (with the f-ing teacher who was like 90 and all.he.did.was.teach.us.about.the.native.american.indians), math, lunch, and English. So, we were pretty inseparable at school. Thing 1 and 2. BFF's. Whatever you want to call it. All through middle school, through 9th grade, we were lucky enough to have several classes together (and some might venture to say that the teachers were UNlucky).

We were crazy together. Sleepovers (sometimes in a tent in my backyard-my neighbors LOVED that), birthday parties, school dances, field trips. All these things included one common denominator-us falling apart in fits of giggles. In the summers, we spent hours out of each day in my pool, swimming, screaming, imagining, laughing, splashing. We'd stop long enough to eat.

We used to eat A LOT when we slept over at her house. And I remember a couple of times we snuck a couple of beers from her father, in 8th grade. I think we just wanted to see what the fuss was all about, but I don't remember getting drunk. We would play Where in the World is Carmen Santiago? on her computer. And this interesting astrological/fortune game. And we would stay.up.all.night.long.

I stuck one of these to her forehead once, in class. It left a BRUISE, not just a red mark. We started a food fight in the lunchroom in 8th grade. We flung mashed potatoes onto the ceiling. We flicked paper across any classroom.

We would bounce several bouncy balls all over my kitchen. Apparently that was hilarious. We also threw a Koosh ball back and forth in the dark, lying in the guest room of my parents' house. It would hit the wall, the ceiling, the fan, the blinds. Again, apparently it was hilarious.

In middle school, neither of us played sports very well. We never made the teams, so we were always in 'off-season'. Which meant we got put with the other un-cool people, and we spent a lot of each gym period in the 'weight room'. Which led to muscles, yes, but also let to a good relationship with several of the boys' coaches (not inappropriate, although everyone thought Coach Styron was hot). Which led to us being the coaches' assistants in 8th grade for one period each day. Which led to us being put in the boys' locker room, to 'organize' the football helmets, flinging sweaty jockstraps at each other, and throwing around footballs & basketballs. I don't recall us getting a lot of laundry or work done. But it was fun!

We were also in band together in middle school. We both played the clarinet. We got in trouble a lot, for talking, flinging stuff across the band hall, giggling, and acting up in the practice rooms.

Once we hit 10th grade, she was on the drill team for our school, and I was a band geek (go right ahead and laugh!). So we didn't have any classes together, and we were on opposite ends of the school, it seemed. I'm not sure why we didn't talk all that much in 10th grade, but near the end of 11th grade, we realized we had a mutual friend, a guy who was poetic, funny, talented, and a great listener. So, he is how we got back in touch.

And then we graduated, and somehow lost touch again, until she found me on ICQ. She was in Japan. I was in Cedar Hill, finishing college, and planning a wedding. We reconnected instantly, and she helped me plan my wedding from across the Pacific Ocean.

She came back to Texas, was in my wedding, and then we lost touch again. What the hell??
Then we got back in touch for her wedding, but I couldn't actually go to her wedding, because it was in Florida, and I just didn't have the money at the time. Also, I had started my first big job since my degree, which required my being in court A LOT, and the day before her wedding, there was this huge case I was expected to testify in (which I did, and it sucked, but there was a good outcome). I was so sad to miss her wedding, and still feel bad about it to this day (Sorry Jill). Again, we lost touch.

She went through her first pregnancy and birth, of her gorgeous daughter Lorelei. Where was I? No idea! I have no idea how or why we lost touch each time; shit happens, right? I know we aren't the only people to do that, right? (RIGHT?????) Somehow we re-connected when I was pregnant with my girl. And this time, we have stayed connected. I got to see her pregnant with her second daughter, and actually got to see her in the hospital after giving birth. We give each other our Christmas presents in April (or May or June) because we are 'very busy women', but we IM every day.

Our girls love each other. My girl asks about Lorelei alllllll the time, and loves to call Ellison 'Baby Elllllllison'.

Several months ago, they were at my house. The hubbies were playing Playstation, Jill & I were drinking some wine and going nuts trying to finish one conversation among all the chatter of our girls. My husband jokingly said, 'I wonder when their first sleep over is going to happen? And can it happen at your house?'

I giggle just to think about what that will be like, because:

Our girls are silly together. They laugh and scream outrageously at each other. They destroy my girl's room, taking out each and every toy. One time, they turned her little tent upside down, and were lying on the roof of it, curled up together, all arms and legs and grins. They run up and down the hall, chasing one another, saying silly things. They go to the potty together, and jack with the toilet paper. I have a feeling they are going to be just like Jill & I were.

Jill was my guest-blogger/post-er person while I was gone. No, she doesn't have a blog, for those of you who asked (but WHY THE HELL NOT???). She's smart, funny, kind, and loyal. She's a great listener. She's so supportive. She also happens to be a good writer too, although she tries to tell me I am the writer, not her. (I will be having her as a guest blogger/post-er person again, she just doesn't know it yet! (Well, now you do!))
And for those of you who were wondering about an intervention to get her away from her kids FOR HER SANITY (yes, Jill, for your SANITY!): I try!, I really do! But it's hard to juggle our hubbies' schedules, our kids, our guilt. But we do get together occasionally, to eat (imagine that??) & catch up. She's a great friend, and I'm happy to say that I have known her for 18 years and counting!!!

Miss(ing) Kacy

About 5 months ago, I met Kacy. She began her job a week after my start date, and we were clueless in a little cubicle together. And we liked it that way. We both figured out pretty quickly that chaos rules the roost there (neither of us work there any longer), and it annoyed the shit out of us. So, nothing made us happier than being crammed into the corner cubicle, giggling at the crap we heard through the flimsy walls. Well, the only thing that made us happier was food. And lots of it.

When things got to be too annoying for us, we would escape. We would run across the street and grab a few homemade cookies or walk to 7-11 and drool over the tasty-looking donuts (and end up buying fruit!). Sometimes we ran errands, and ended up at a petstore, where we played with the cats available for adoption.

We ate lunch out a lot. (I'm pretty confident that is where some of my extra poundage has come from.) And then when we returned to the office, we would immediately begin instant messaging each other, even though we were in the same cubicle.

Almost 2 months after being stuffed in one cubicle, our company moved 2 doors down, and we both got our very own cubicles, right next to each other. And that is when the catty remarks began from other co-workers, who happen to be older than both of us:

"Oh, do you guys miss each other?"

"What are you going to do now that you're not attached to each other's hips??"

"Can you handle being away from her?"

It was rather annoying, and only added more fuel to our instant messaging.

The catty-ness didn't end there. There was constant drama about the stupidest stuff, and a couple of those women need some serious long-term therapy. Ultimately, the catty-ness is what helped Kacy make the decision to leave the company. Once she left, it was far too quiet around there, other than the catty bitches who ran her off.

Now, Kacy has made the decision to leave Texas, and move back to New York to live with her mother and aunt. She will be attending school there, and no one needs to pass up the opportunity to attend college FOR FREE. She leaves tomorrow.

Kacy is much younger than I. MUCH. But when you talk to her, you wouldn't know she is still a teenager. She is a fairly strong girl, and she does well all on her own. I think that she will move mountains wherever she goes.

Good luck, Kacy! Stay strong, take care of yourself, and don't let anyone push you around!

Love ya!

Nat-a-leeeeeeee

So really, the weather is making.....me.....sleeeeeeeeeeeepy. Two days in a row of waking up to pounding rain and dark skies. I love when it rains, for the most part (other than the times I lived in Springtown and I thought I was going to float away!), but I can't really function as a normal member of society with such heavy eyelids.

So anyway, moving on, while I have this brief spurt of energy (thanks to peanut butter cups, I'm sure).

::

I have another friend's birthday to recognize. Seriously, I need to ask: Were all of our parents a bit on the horn-ball side back in September 1977???, because I sure do know a lot of people with May birthdays. I digress....

Natalie's birthday was actually Cinco de Mayo, but apparently I was too busy blogging about something else.

Natalie and I met in a very interesting way back in high school. I briefly dated a guy named Erick, who was a nice guy, great body, big d....oh, sorry. Too much info? Well, anyway. He was a nice guy, but I quickly realized that I wasn't ready for a nonchalant bed-buddy type of relationship. So, I broke it off, but we were still friendly. However, during our brief trysts, Erick told me about a girl he had briefly dated (in the same nonchalant bed-buddy type of way, apparently), named Natalie. He said she had just moved here from Cali, and she was gorgeous. Apparently he really liked her, but didn't know how to tell her. And, the nice girl that I am, I offered to help him out with her, if he would show her to me in the halls. Which he didn't......

So one day in English class, this new girl walks in. Long unruly hair (amazingly, like mine!), great legs (unlike mine), beautiful eyes. She sat behind me. At some point in time during the period, one of us said something about Erick, and we began comparing notes, to see if we were both talking about the same guy. That is when I realized that this was his Natalie!

We clicked immediately. We began hanging out non-stop. We hung out in her pool, we drove all over town in my convertible, we drank, we went to the playground in the dark, we spent nearly every Saturday night at different clubs, but mostly the long-gone Eden 2000......

There was this one time we decided to go ride go-carts. And we were peeling out and being a bit crazy. Some dumbass rammed into the back of my go-cart going 42.5 miles an hour, which caused me to slam my face into the steering wheel. I have pictures to prove the injury-a bloody nose and HUGE fat lips. Natalie laughed forever about that one, and took the pictures.

Another time, we hung out in an old friend's abandoned house, with sleeping bags, flashlights, and alcohol. Zimas with skittles at the bottom. Purple Passion. Lots of vodka. Always with the vodka. We had the greatest time telling stories in the dark.

OH! And there was this time we decided to go to the after-party of some crazy guys we met at a club...and we jumped up and down on the motel beds, acting like dorks!

Oh! And then-

Oh. You don't need to hear all of it, lest you decide I sounded like a filthy whore back at the ripe age of 17.

So anyway, Natalie moved back to California to live with her best friend, so she could have her senior year with all the people she had grown up with in Cali. And I desperately missed her. But, then I started saving my money and going to Cali on a regular basis, where we drank, drove around town, danced drunk on picnic tables, did lap dances for random white trash guys....oh, the filthy whore thing again, right? She has come back to Texas a couple of times to visit, and we made great memories: flashing my nosey neighbor in Saginaw one night (filthy whore! filthy whore!), toilet papering Cia's house....and we even met in Vegas for a few days to be in Cia's wedding. We were hot together, in our flapper dresses! Oh, the days of the pre-baby body.....

Two years ago the hubby and I went to Cali for her wedding. [I cannot explain how Cali makes me feel. I get so excited; the blood practically buzzes through my body. If it weren't so expensive, and I wasn't so attached to my family here in Texas, I would move in a heartbeat. I actually have in my heart the desire to buy a small little beach house there....Pacific Beach, Mission Beach, La Jolla, somewhere along the coast by San Diego. ] Natalie was a beauty, and I really need to post some pictures of her in her beautiful dress!!!

I have finally given up any hope that Natalie will move back. I know that she belongs in California; it suits her. I cannot think of one without the other. But I miss both desperately.

We have been friends for 13 years. Natalie is amazing. She is smart, kind, loyal, gorgeous, motivated.....If she wasn't my friend, I would be totally jealous! (Actually, I'm still sorta jealous!) She brings the party-girl out in me, more than anyone else.

She is non-judgemental. I could tell her all my secrets-and she knows most of them-and she would never judge me or look down on me. I can tell her my mistakes, and she will not judge me, or make me feel worse than I already do. Maybe it's the distance between us, but I don't think so. I think that most of it is this: she can accept me for all that I am because I accept her for all that she is.

Her husband threw her a 70's Boogie party for her 30th birthday. I wanted to go soooo bad. I know I would have had an awesome time, and Natalie and I would have been great together in our go-go boots.

Nat, Happy 30th Birthday! Welcome to 30! I have no doubt that you will make it look simple, sexy, and fun. I love you and miss you!

(Doesn't she look all sexy & gorgeous!? Damn pre-baby body.)

Cia

Today is my friend Cia's birthday. Cia and I met when my hubby and I moved into our first home, in Saginaw. We lived at 453 Asbury, and their house was being built at 453 Cambridge, one block over, right behind us. As soon as our mailbox went up, the mailman started delivering Cia's mail to us. That's how we met Cia and her now husband, Justin.

We hit it off pretty quickly, and all 4 of us hung out all the time. Cia and I began walking all of our dogs together (she had 1 and I had 1, but we both added labs to our 'collection' not long after meeting). Our dogs didn't much get along with each other (because my Kooter is freakin' anti-social, apparently), but we walked them anyway.

I have a ton of memories about my time with Cia:

There was the time our dogs were on their leashes and ran in circles around us, squishing Cia and I up against each other, with the leashes wrapped so tightly around our legs that we fell in the middle of my front lawn, unable to move, laughing our asses off.

Or the time my hubby and I, and a couple of other friends, toilet papered Cia's house, including her little 4 foot trees. The next morning, there was a wet toilet paper wad the size of a car stuck on our garage door. Justin had wet the toilet paper we used, and thrown it on our house.

Or the time we went to some white trash bar for 25 cent shots-Justin and my hubby dropped us at the front door before they went to park the truck. Cia and my hubby were arguing about something (playfully), and my husband grabbed her shirt, pulled it over her head, and hit the gas. There was Cia, running along the truck, blind, with her girls out for all the white trash to see.

There were a ton of drunken silly nights. We even flew to Vegas to be in their wedding when Cia and Justin decided to have a 1920's Gangster wedding, complete with the Italian hats, cigars, and the bridesmaids in flapper dresses.

I could describe many funny incidents, believe me. We hung out all the time. And then she got pregnant with their first cutie patootie, and we had a falling out. I won't go into details, but it wasn't until her son was born that we spoke again. And even then, we weren't back to our normal silly selves. It was uncomfortable and familiar, all at the same time. It was a relief to be talking again, and was also sad to realize we had killed so much time.

It took another year before we really started talking again. Each time we talked or saw one another, it got easier. She backed into my 4 foot magnolia tree out in Springtown. I watched her kiddos for her. We started getting back into the groove of things.

As is with most things, we both have busy lives. We don't see each other, nor do we talk to each other, as often as either of us would like. But I still consider her a friend. I know that if I needed her, I could call her right now, late on a Sunday night, and she would come over if I needed her. She's just that way.

Cia helped me grow as a person, without really meaning to. She's taught me a bit about sucking it up and just taking what life has handed you and making the best of it. She taught me to relax and not worry about what others thought. And she also taught me that I can forgive and forget and continue with a good friendship. We had a bump in the road, we both dusted ourselves off, apologized, and we remained friends.

Cia Pia, I love you! I'm here for you, whenever you need me.