Um...

Have you ever had some bit of information that eats at you and you can't talk about it and it makes you uncomfortable and there's nothing you can do about it and it makes you think in run on sentences?

uh, me either.

I'll talk about it when I can.

AHHHHHH

After all that crap earlier, I feel much better. The rest of my day went pretty well and I headed to Home Depot after work for some gardening tools. 

I spent too much (hello. it's home depot. what did I expect?) and came home to find that Chango didn't tear apart anything today. YAY! 

Then we spent a few hours gardening. My yard isn't what I think it should be. The front isn't bad, but the back is all dirt and a poor neglected apricot tree. A few weeks ago I sectioned off an area and created a planting area for all the stuff I planted in little peat pellets. Most of them didn't grow or died. But I still have a few including peas that I will plant. I love fresh peas.

Today, I aerated the planter area, watered the lawn, aerated around the apricot tree and fertilized, planted my raspberry bush (after hanging the trellis behind it) shook my neighbors hand with dirt all over mine, replanted some bulbs from the back to the front, and aerated another area where I was going to plant cotton but I think I will put peas instead. (I'm excited about the peas). I'm also thinking that I might be a "throw the seeds in the dirt and they will grow" kind of gardener as opposed to the kind that plants in fussy little peat pods. I mean, if you can use them GREAT! I like how they grow when you add water. But, um, they've never worked for me. I might joke about having a brown thumb, but gardening runs in my family. I can't be THAT bad. 

I didn't aerate the lawn like I intended, but I can do that tomorrow. 

Right now? my hands are killing me. I have blisters. I'm dirty and sweaty. I have more chores to do. It feels good, though, to have spent some time outside in the dirt, just me and my puppybutt. 

Having one of those days

Do you ever have those days where little things go wrong or bug you to great degrees? I’m having one today.

Puppybutt did as I asked and tried to get me out of bed early this morning so I could play with him. I opened the bedroom door and let him out and snoozed a little longer. So he got into my purse. I’m as surprised as you that he did what he was told, he’s been sleeping until I get up. I’m sure it was coincidence.

I forgot my lunch (thankfully there is leftover KFC in the fridge. Not nearly as good as the Havana chicken I WAS going to eat for lunch, but, food. And, free.)

I was on time today!! YAY! (need to insert the positive)

Popped in and caught up on CNR’s blog this morning. Suddenly, I feel weird about reading it. This is a person I want to get to know better. I think I am going about it the wrong way. I can’t get to know him through his blog! Sure, I have gotten some insight into his person that way, but isn’t it better for me to learn direct?
Plus, for some reason, reading it today brought back memories of the time oh so long ago when I looked up E’s blog. And read his very graphic sexcapades. I remembered how it made me sick. And how I read about his many phone calls trying to cheer up another woman when he didn’t have time to call me on the days when he said he would. It hurt me and made me angry. It pressed my insecurity buttons. It did make it easier to end things though. I never looked at his blog again, fearing to read more graphic depictions. Fearing to see myself in his stories, even non graphic ones. Less about the fear though, and more about the health of my mind.
I’m not going to pretend that I will be able to resist the temptation to read CNR’s blog again, he knows I do, just as I know he reads mine. Instead, I am going to tell myself that I should get to know him in the usual way. By talking to him.
(PS. I know that CNR is not E. Their personalities are completely different and I cannot imagine him ever sharing the type of personal information that E dispensed with astonishing detail and sordid gusto)

My team captain sent me a message this morning asking if I would be able to attend the extra team practice at the skate park this evening. I replied that I didn’t know. That I had been out every night this week. That I needed me time and that my puppy needed me time too. She responded telling me what we would be working on and that it would be really good if I were there, even just for an hour.
I had a mini meltdown. (ok. The meltdown was entirely in my head) I’ve felt cranky about the team thing ever since I got placed on one. I am certain that I have a bad attitude about it even though I do my best to put on my smiley face and skate the best that I can.
Derby takes a lot out of me. Physically, mentally, and time. 4 hours a week of skating. Board meetings, planning meetings, research on merchandise and trips to the silk screener. Add team meetings, occasional trips to the fabric store for uniform ideas, extra practices…I’m tired. I need time off. These last couple of weeks have been hell between the bout (the week before a bout is always hectic. Even the night before, which I swore I would do nothing Derby was spent making signs for the teams with wifey.) and my family coming into town.
I sent her a message when the feeling of stress came over me letting her know that I wouldn’t be able to make it. I explained that I haven’t sat upon my couch in a week. I haven’t turned on the TV in longer than that. I mentioned being on the brink of meltdown. Her response? “Hahaha. Ok”
Which really wasn’t ok with me. I can’t figure out what could possibly be funny about someone else’s stress level being that high. Yes, I am aware that I bring a lot of activity into my life. There are definitely people out there who have more responsibilities than I do. Work, kids, school. Not all of them have another parent around to help them.
But then I think about my wonderful little puppy, acting out lately from a lack of snuggle time (last evening he wouldn’t eat until I cuddled him a bit) and my business, slowly dying from neglect. I have two friends that married each other this week and I wasn’t there. I missed two evenings with my mom to be at practice. One more hour. (not counting getting dressed and driving) One more hour was just too much. That’s why I don’t attend to the gym on Thursdays. One more night is just too much. It’s not her fault for wanting me to be there. And I’m sure the laughter was not intended to be cruel. It just added to the general frustration of the day.

I ran out of clean jeans today. I live in my jeans. I wear them constantly. Or, at least enough that I started buying dresses with the hope that I would put one on eventually. Since I was out of jeans, I pulled a pair of pants I haven’t worn since I left the last place I worked. I forgot that I am down a size since then. My shirt also decided today that it is worn out. I am feeling shabby. I hate to feel shabby. I imagine that most people would tell me I look fine and to get over it. But I don’t feel fine.

I think I need a nap.

The punishment for being nice

I am, I have to say, a little too nice. In wifey's words, I'm a doormat. I know that. She's one too. we support each other in trying to get up offa the floor and be mean.

Not really mean, but not doormats anymore.

I am becomming addicted to the word "no". seriously, the word "no" has been giving me a little bit of a high lately.

When the former roommate called me on Saturday to see if she and the dogs could come stay with me for a few days? I said no. It's no longer okay for me to have 4 dogs in the house. Plus, I just spend mad money on all new bedding and a lot of time on cleaning carpets and walls and such. No. I felt a little bad, but I have to look out for my own comfort now.

The guy who contacted me on messager while I was happily chatting with CNR the other night? (Back story. Many many moons ago, before B, this guy found me on the internet and wanted to chat on messager. I wasn't interested in him but agreed because I didn't want to be mean. then I decided he was strange. And funny how I was always too busy to talk to him. Or I would hide behind online invisible status. Finally, I deleted him for my contacts and didn't hear from him again. Until the other night when his green rainbow writing popped up asking for a messenger invite) I told him no. I told him that I decided that we have nothing in common. That my instincts were telling me that I didn't want to have contact with him. He still didn't get it. He suggested that we meet face to face so I could make up my mind for reals. No. I hope he finally got the hint. He certainly sent a pouty face.

Today, I walked into work knowing I had a lot to do. A LOT. I sat down and put my nose to the grindstone. Now, ordinarily I bend over backwards to make sure that my guys have the things they need but today, I'm busy. So when one of them asked me to head up to HR to get everybody a badge clip, I said no. I announced that it was just as easy for him to go do it as it is for me. And funny, how I didn't really feel guilty.

This is becomming a habit. My wife will be proud. I realized that the punishment for being nice is that I am inconvienenced a lot for other people's happiness. I WANT people to be happy, and I want to help them. Generally, I have no problem doing so and in many cases will look for ways to BE helpful. But my back is getting tired. I can only bend over for so long.

I'm sorry, how old am I?

Sometimes I forget, in my hurry to get the madness of the moment out of my head, just how public my blog is. How easy it is to find it, how easy it is for anyone to read my neurosis.

That has been the fun of the blog thus far. The ability to expound into the blogosphere (mostly) all madness I want.

Every so often, someone I know trips on it. Sometimes they tell me, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes, they leave cryptic comments letting me know that I know them but not enough info for me to figure it out. Yes, I look up IP addresses, that doesn’t always do the trick and FYI, I once was able to follow the trail all the way to a picture of the person’s house. I didn’t recognize it. I also didn’t research further.

Other times, the comment makes it quite obvious who it is and I want to sink into the floor and wish die because I’ve run my fingers off in such a way that I am now embarrassed.

Sometimes, that has been a good thing. When C stumbled across my blog, and read my frustrations about him, even though this was started nearly a year after he changed my life completely; reading it, and him confronting me about it healed our friendship in ways that time didn’t. And I am grateful.

As far as I know, it’s never been a bad thing. I have censored myself over the years, knowing that splashing details all over the internet isn’t the best way to maintain a healthy relationship. There were, for instance, a lot of issues I had with Biker Bob that I never mentioned because I knew he was a reader and while I really wanted to mention certain things, I knew they were too private to mention and the things that weren’t may have hurt his feelings. I never knew whether Louie read, and I doubt it, but I censored myself there too.

I don’t complain about work, knowing that it could get me fired. Hell, I won’t even mention what company I work for even though I generally give enough hints that it can be discovered (ahem. Buzz.). But even that last place, the one I hated, was safe from my complaints on the internet. I’m sure they read what I was up to. It was that kind of company.

But certain things, well, this blog would not be the same without them. Crushes on coworkers and such. General silliness and my adventures in internet dating. Tidbits about my relationships and the heartbreaks when they end. I have been accustomed to telling these stories. Used to being able to discuss with whomever might stumble upon me details that do get shared with the people in my life, but for some reason I need to share with strangers. Even if it embarrasses me later.

I’ll be hiding under my desk if anyone needs me. I have to admit though, that’s what I get for forgetting that I’m not in Jr High anymore even though socially, I haven’t quite matured that far.

Wass happinin hottt stufff?

Not much, really. 

Some derby drama. It comes and goes. Crushes, they come and go too. Current one is holding steady even though the ageist voice in the back of my head is yelling that I am plotting a cradle robbery EVEN THOUGH I would totally date someone the same amount of years older than me and we don't seem to have a problem talking to each other online through the evening. 

What we do seem to have a problem with is holding a conversation in person. Which is a bad thing and the insecure voice in my head tells me that this fella has lots of female buddies and that I may be getting primed to be another one. 

Which would be okay. Like I said, crushes come and go. And right now, event hough he's online, I'm playing the "I'm not contacting you" game because I don't wan to feel desperate. And as I write, the pop up pops.

My family was in town this weekend, and I didn't get nearly enough of them. There just isn't enough time in the day to play with my sisters and snuggle my niece and take lots and lots of naps. What there was time for was really bad pictures of me. Seriously, I need to take my new haircut and do something besides pull my hair back.

New hair cut. Layers. Still long.  not a very exciting piece of information. Sorry. Its the newest thing.  

Bad

I have been admonishing myself for days via twitter to NOT develop a crush on the CNR. It's not working. Especially because we spend a lot of time chatting. And he's cute.

Damnit. When will I learn?

Tired and Sore

The Mafia Mollies kicked our butts last night. Badly. Despite everything and I have to admit that I complained about a couple of major penalties that weren't called (one of which could have been ugly.) The simply out skated us. They work better as a team. Hopefully we can work past that.

Meanwhile, I didn't know that bruises could be turquoise, and my left hip, knee and ankle hurt.

BUT I closed the bar last night after the after party just sitting there talking with one of my girls and the cute new ref. Then I took them home since I was sober. Then I went home. And got to bed around oh? 5 am. I am tired. 

Relaxation and revelation

My roommate has moved out. Although it has only been a week, it feels like much longer.

We got along really well in the last week that she was here leaving me to think that my attitude was the bulk of the problem. I can accept that. As I resettle into my home though, I find little things that drove me crazy and I am reminded that I need to not repeat that experiment. 

There are also little things I miss. I am thankful that she was able to be at home with Chango so much. I didn't lose much in that first week. And I kind of miss how she would turn on the bathroom heater if she knew I was going to go take a shower. I love the bathroom heater.

Chango remains the best puppy ever despite his love for getting into precisely the things I want him to stay out of. I have learned to bungee cord the office door knob to the bathroom one.  I have also  learned to pick up my crap. It took a puppy to get me to be tidy(er) wow.

I've also been going through a purge period. To date, over the last month or so, I have taken two giant tubs of stuff to the thrift store, given away 1 pair of rollerblades, 1 microwave, and 1 pair of wrestling shoes (they were almost brand new. I had been lugging them about because I didn't want to get rid of a practically new pair of shoes. They are now a spare for a local high school wresting team. The school is in a fairly "poor" area. I'm super pleased with the outcome) I'm enjoying the freedom of giving things away to people who need them. There's still a TV on the table...

The bitchiness continues

We all knew it was coming. Being as I am peeking at men again, I am bound to post a conversation or two. I think I mentioned that one about the trucker. This one is not as scary, but my response is maybe a little too far on the B way. BUT since I have been referred to as a bitch twice in the last month or so, I think I am simply allowing myself to embrace my inner bitchiness. Wendy would be proud. She was trying once to to teach me the way, but I kept giggling.

Here tis

He:

Not Looking for a Happily Ever After

I am looking for a happy after. =)
You are seriously a roller derby chica?
That rocks hardcore.
If you have a brain (sorry, but your profile does not say one way or the other) I would love if you messaged me =)
I like strong chicas. But intelligence reigns supreme. =)

Me:

I'm not certain where in my discourse you questioned the existence of my brain, I had hoped that the brief mention of quantum physics and the fact that I consider it enough to make mention would suggest that I am more than a meathead on skates. I wish you all the world's luck in finding your happy ending, I don't think I am the woman you are looking for.

hee hee. I said happy ending and I don't think he will get what I meant. Maybe I don't give HIM enough credit. Come to think of it, that went beyond necessity and I probably shouldn't have sent it, but it's too late, I already did.

 

It's about damn time I dispensed some puppy butt cuteness

You see this spot? Right here? in this picture? (I'm a genius for taking this photo, by the way) This is Chango's favorite place. Right between my feet. 

Latest update

Life is about the same. Haven't chatted with any more crazies online; actually, I deleted the profile on forgotwhichonethistime.com, which my roommate convinced me I should go on. I just don't see any reason to pay $50 bucks a month to talk to the same yahoos that are on okcupid for free.

I'm enjoying my free time and my puppy. I'm looking forward to Thursday. A lot. 

That's about it.