My day started with a rude awakening – all 3 dogs barking at the sound of tires in the gravel driveway.
They sound like a puppy version of thousands of tween girls at a boy band concert. That screaching, scream sort of crying bark that doesn’t stop until my wife makes her way from her parked vehicle, into our home and down the hall to open the bedroom door and greet them.
It’s really an incredibly awful way to be jolted from weekend slumber.
Torturous really and it plays out every other weekend at our place right about 7:30 AM. I have about 5 minutes of quiet after they are released, from what should be my sanctuary, before they all come rushing back to the bedroom. Each canine taking flying leaps into the bed on top of me.
Sometimes the wife joins them, just for fun.
It sounds like a romantic comedy until I am finally able to raise my head. Then the romantic comedy turns into a horror flick. My face gets all contorted, smeared with last night’s makeup. Yesterday’s curls now a massive fluff of angry red frizz. A sound escapes me like a guttural growl and when I find my voice obscenities spew out like I’m being exercised of demons. I throw back the blankets and climb clumsily over the furry sprawled out bodies in our bed.
I gather whatever is laying on the floor to wear and mutter a few more obscenities as I walk out to make coffee. All the while the bedroom quiets, the blankets get pulled up and everyone settles in to sleep the day away.
Everyone but me that is.
As soon as I finish my coffee I will realize once again, just like yesterday and the weekend before, that I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It’s one of those things where you tell yourself you are going to do it more often but in actuality you get back to it about 3 years later.
For me it’s like the thing that gets lost and then found under the couch cushions along with a couple pens, something that looks like your kids sock and a few pennies stuck to an unwrapped sucker. The thing you forgot was lost and then you get excited to find. That’s this blog for me.
I wanted to write about Valentines and what stupid cupid did this time and I forgot. Then I wanted to write about that funny thing my kid said … but again, I got busy and totally forgot.
The truth of the matter is I don’t care that much about being read, or liked, or commented on. Just kidding. People like me don’t publish blogs because we have nothing to say. I have more to say than anyone I know. The wife tells me I even talk in my sleep so that says something.
I’m a list maker, a check mark doodler, a post-it note sticker placer but I can’t seem to organize my thoughts often enough here.
So this my friends is my black and white promise.
For all the like 3 people who read my blogs (when I take the time to write them) I pledge to write more. To bring you more of the funny things that happen, the awesomeness that is learning to adapt and the sarcasm that comes with my life, my idiotic bliss.
** I’ve clearly been watching too many political commercials … that seemed very “vote for me and I will bring you more to laugh at” but I mean it. From the bottom of my sarcastic heart.
Thanksgiving has come and gone and thankfully so have those ridiculous social media posts being thankful for this and that each day.
I am not saying we shouldn’t be gracious and share the wonderful things in our life.
Don’t get me wrong.
I just don’t think I’m buying into how sincere all this is if you must be prompted to express it.
Yes, you love your kids and your momma and your dog and your sweetheart and pumpkin pie and your favorite sports team. I do too.
Well … most of those things anyway.
I might be sarcastically moving along in life but I do take time to genuinely appreciate and thank those who make it just a little more awesome to be alive everyday.
For the sake of laughable tradition I will throw it out there for you. The top 5 list of things I am grateful for this year (and all year).
1. A roof over my head.
It’s no mansion in a gated community but I have a warm comfortable place to plant my pajama clothed ass on a couch every weekend. It might be dusty and cluttered but it’s mine.
2. A great job.
Seriously, I pay for my own house and have weekends to sit around in my pj’s. I’m grateful. It also affords me the luxury of browsing for my next Groupon.
It’s a good job but it isn’t like being a CEO at Apple. I’m not Bill Gates and my neighborhood watch list doesn’t include Oprah. I’m doing alright just the same.
3. Smart kids.
They do really, really dumb stuff on occasion but I am not raising idiots here. Not a single kid got pregnant, dropped out of school, got arrested, or ran away. I consider this a fair amount of luck and decent parenting. Whatever the percent of luck – I am thankful to not be a young grandma.
4. An amazing spouse.
This is a tricky one. Not to say I’m not thankful for the perfect life partner but I am more thankful she came around at just the time she did. It took me a long time to grow up and mature and know myself well enough to know what I need in life. I made bad decisions and learned from past mistakes. I broke hearts and had my heart broken, more times than I’ll admit.
I’m most grateful she isn’t one of those learning experiences for the history books. I’m also grateful she’s only going to wear those fuzzy Batman Pajamas for the duration of the winter season. They look ridiculous. Sorry, babe.
5. People who read my blog.
I know what you are thinking cause I’m thinking it too. I’m geeking out here. How could I be so lame?
People who want to read what I have written are right up there with stretchy waist pants.
I heart each and every person who likes, comments or emails me about my blogs as much as I love getting away with leggings on a work day. This fashion trend needs to hang on till I’m retired.
I’m sincerely thankful each and every day for the time to write, the things to write about, and the sarcasm and wit to make you all want to continue reading.
In the spirit of things please feel free to leave a comment about what you are most thankful for.
Last weekend I visited a local metaphysical shop, which I love, for a million and one reasons.
There happened to be a fair of some sort happening for the Halloween celebration. Super talented folks were waiting to tell fortunes, communicate with the dead, braid your hair, offer chair massages, and among other things, read your tarot cards.
All kinds of healers and spiritually blessed, talented folks. Just a list of people willing to assist you with whatever you need for a meager cash fee.
I opted for the tarot card reading, hoping for fun but not expecting too much.
I was not disappointed.
Well I was maybe a little. I was hoping for winning lottery numbers or the reader to go into a trance so my deceased loved ones could send me a message. Didn’t happen. Maybe next time.
I asked about my career for the theme of my reading. Seemed harmless enough.
He shuffled the cards and before putting them down asked me who “David” was. I don’t know any Dave or David or Davie or anything of the sort.
I started to get nervous. Maybe this guy is crazy.
Probably was crazy.
He spread the cards in a traditional pattern and pretty much told me exactly what I already knew. This was great, life is good. career good.
So that was quick.
He then asked if I had other questions.
We talked about my wife.
We talked about money.
We talked about how my wife spends all our money.
We laughed. (she didn’t laugh when I told her about it)
We talked about how I have a creative thing I should be doing in life that I don’t devote enough time to.
To be fair we all have a thing … but I really do have something I am aware that I put aside when I get busy and I wish I had more time to devote to.
You guessed it. This blog.
I do enjoy writing for fun but have zero time for it.
He said that eventually I would do this “thing I create” for a living. That it would make me more money and give me more success than my real job.
We shall see.
It was nearing the end of my time and he asked if I had any other questions.
I asked who this David was. He said I didn’t yet know him but in time this gentleman would be the bridge to making what I create my actual job. That I should be making this “creative thing” with my hands now and building the blocks to bridge later.
Maybe he meant something else entirely. Considering I am not an artist, musician or afghan knitter, this is all I have.
So … David.
Or whatever you prefer I call you, if you are reading and think you can make my worthless talent an actual thing … give me a call.
Or Facebook me.
Or whatever successful creative bridge builder types do.
In the meantime I will be over here writing for fun.
When I can. Cause I still need a real job.
Hoping for my big break.
A big paycheck.
Or something like that.
It was this time last year that our home state made our marriage legal. We were so excited, it was like a second wedding day. Sorta like that … but without rain, stress, arguments or blisters. Good times.
So in the spirit of a (sort of) one year wedding anniversary I compiled the top 10 best of best things that happened this last year, our first full year of being legally married in our home state.
We survived new car envy. She bought I convertible, I got jealous. We now share our vehicles. Whats mine is mine. What is yours is now mine too. I’m pretty sure it was in the vows.
The kids went away for the summer and we managed to focus a little time on us. Every relationship needs a little space alone to develop. Ours developed into missing the kids after a couple month extended honeymoon. Whatever works.
We went to the beach, several times. There is nothing like feeling the sand between your toes. Or the sand hitting you in the face as it swirls around the car, coming off your beach gear. That’s what happens when you shove the sandy gear into the back of that super cute, top down convertible you HAD to take for the trip.
We watched fireworks for the 4th, from our mountain spot, all by ourselves. It was kinda romantic and super beautiful. The other fireworks throughout the year on the mountain, likely scaring the neighbors into calling for backup, maybe not so much romantic as horrifying. We are trying to keep our arguments to ourselves now. Sorry y’all.
We learned to budget. Just kidding, no we didn’t. We bought a new car and went to the beach a few times. We can’t seem to save any money. I have no idea why.
She learned to cook. Well, not really cook, but she can grill like nobody’s business. Thinking about our 1 year anniversary steak dinner she magically produced is making me hungry, 3 months later.
I changed my last time to hers. Finally. She ran out and changed the name on the mailbox … I am still learning to sign it. Or to recolonize it when called.
We made new friends. Together. Couple friends. That isn’t easy considering we are so different. It is almost like getting a raise, the one you don’t think it will ever happen. All of a sudden you are eating more than soup from a can, in your one room apartment, while talking to your cat before bedtime at 8pm. It’s a big wide world out there when you have couple friends to go explore it with.
We found new things to explore together. Places to go, things to do, food to eat and fancy new beer to try. Again, a big deal because when we first met we didn’t have much more in common than mutual lust. No shame. None.
Last but certainly most important: Nobody was seriously injured or died. I’m not kidding, it was a close call a few times. Marriage is hard, apparently so is smothering your beloved with a pillow.
Everything you have read from me has been hilarious.
Fine, it was at least funny in parts.
I try to be light hearted as much as possible. No matter what. Anything to make the next day better. Sarcasm helps.
Some days though … there is no strength left for better.
Some days it just feels like I’m dragging around a body. Just posing my limbs throughout the day like a stylish department store clothing display. Moving my mouth to form words in such a way that to call it interacting with society would be a generous stretch.
I’m in autopilot and I’m surrounded by strangers. Overwhelmed, emotionally exhausted, dramatically desperate.
I left the doctor today with strange news. There is a major malfunction in my body but it is fixable. Correctable once the source of the problem has been diagnosed. Probably. Hopefully.
Great news, right? No.
I like to be in control. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. I am great at being in control. I mean it’s not like I land airplanes for a living but I direct and reflect trouble like a boss.
Except now. Right now I am all alone. I am broken. I don’t want to share the pits of my despair with anyone in particular. I don’t want to pour my story onto a white page to be discovered by strangers.
Actually. Yes. Yes, I do. I want to share my story. It’s not always witty and entertaining. Sometimes it’s sad and raw and real.
The entirety of the situation is rather embarrassing really.
That makes me sad.
Not gangster style mad though … more like blogger mad. Instead of roughing up the rivals I will take to my blog and punch the keys with intent. That’s right, the sound of my typing can probably be heard from outside the house.
I’m an angry typer.
It’s been a tough couple weeks. I have not blogged purposely because I didn’t want to share sad. Sad isn’t witty or funny or entertaining. It’s just … sad.
Not very long ago I watched my children walk with contained excitement onto an airplane destined for the other side of the country. To be delivered to the other half of their parental unit. They couldn’t wait to find their seats and I panicked when I lost sight down the airplane corridor.
I cried on the way home.
I lost control.
I will miss them. They are gone for a few more weeks. If they need me I won’t be there. I don’t know what to do with that. How do parents do this? Why is this a thing?
Yes, they are safe.
Yes, they are healthy and happy and having a blast.
Yes, I’m still crying.
Also entirely out of my control?
My marriage. My beautiful, amazing, brag worthy and public love letter inspiring union.
What could be so bad about that? My fairy tale is made of regular everyday normal people, that’s what. People who sometimes reach a crossroads. I have no control over the depths of my love and just the same seemingly no control over the limits of human patience. My carriage may have turned into a pumpkin. No fairy godmother, just humble pie. Good thing I still believe in happy endings.
Sometimes you just want to go where nobody knows your name. Where you are surrounded by strangers. Where you only need to be in control of you.
I need to be reminded that the world still turns, the sun still rises and the moon will still beckon to the lost souls. Even if I get lost in the crowd. Even if I get lost and have to relinquish my control.
Sometimes I just need to be in a world full of strangers.
with my humble pie.
a glass of wine would be great too.
Remember the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland freaking out about the time? Yeah. Put that bunny in a red curly wig and a sundress and that’s me.
It’s almost our first anniversary.
One whole year since we became wife and wife.
A whole freaking year of ups and downs and all arounds. We danced around the “for richer or poorer” and all those traditional vows whether we said them or not. It hasn’t been easy but it has gone fast and if I could do it all over again I would. Except slower, and I would have started blogging about way sooner. All the good and the bad and unbelievable love.
All the things marriage is. It all came around in our very first year.
Now it’s time we celebrate that we lasted this long. It’s just an anniversary but it’s a big one. People will be cashing in on the bets they placed 12 months ago kinda big. Giggle if you will, the odds for a big payout were probably great if we made it. We love hard and we fight like someone will have to stop breathing before it can be over. Ok, not really, but it has been close.
She will be expecting something super romantic and I will be expecting something sweet and heart-felt. What neither of us is expecting is to run out of time and it’s ticking on.
We never do anything small. If you have followed my blog to date you may have glimpsed what married life is like on the inside. Gift giving is a major task. We go big around here.
I’ve requested the advice of co-workers and I’ve googled “first anniversary” and nothing jumped out. Just paper stuff. Sometimes really expensive paper stuff. I am all about some sentimental names on canvas but that isn’t her and therefor isn’t us. Tricky territory. This anniversary thing is almost worse than the ridiculous wedding markup. If it says wedding or anniversary you’re going to pay triple. True story.
I tried to search “first gay anniversary” thinking that might bring me to something unique but personable but still nothing. Well nothing G rated and appropriate for sharing. I did get some ideas though. We will see what she thinks after I present her the anniversary gift of all gifts. If she hates it I will keep those search results for a plan B. Always good to have a plan B. tick tock tick tock … running out of time.
running out of what little sanity I was holding onto.
I can’t get a re-do on the very first celebratory year of marriage. It almost feels like getting married again. I’m so nervous. Not “what if I don’t fit in my wedding dress” nervous. I can still eat pizza. The kind of nervous that compels me to wonder what happens if this doesn’t turn out as beautiful and magical as I planned. That kind of nervous.
I’ve looked at Pinterest and still nothing. Unless I want to spend a day making paper dolls of each of us with materials I will need to hunt down in a craft store.
The problem is I am neither crafty nor patient enough for anything on Pinterest.
and it makes me hungry.
Has anyone ever actually browsed pins and not been bombarded by super fanciful flower adorned cupcakes and exotically named smoothie drinks? each served in cute mason jars sorted by size and color? sitting neatly on a handmade shelf of reclaimed wood?
I’ve got no time for funny pictures of kittens and recipes I will never make.
I need an idea. I need to get creative.
Maybe a giant glued together construction paper card with glitter and pop up hearts like a toddler’s first book about dinosaurs. That sounds like a lot of work though.
Back to the drawing board. By which I mean the internet.
I have a full life. There are not enough hours in my days or days in my week.
What I want to do, what I would like to do and what I need to do are entirely separate.
Similar to a zoo, without the zebras, elephants, lions and monkeys it’s just a few caged animals. All together it’s a zoo. Like my life right now.
A freaking zoo. A strange new attraction around every corner.
If I start charging admission maybe I can afford a snow cone machine with a beer option.
That might actually solve all my problems now that I think about it.
I don’t sleep enough, I dream too much, and I can relax rarely. It’s catching up to me.
My career choice keeps me on my toes, it’s unforgiving some days. Lucky for me I have the next week off. Sort of. Mostly.
I’m fairly certain at least once a day my thoughts will be consumed by a “problem child” … anyone who has ever worked an advocate position knows exactly to who or what I refer.
I find it similar to what having a fire-breathing, baby animal eating, dragon as a pet might be like. As much as your job is to please the masses there are some you simply can not. Sadly, like a pet dragon, you can’t exactly just find them a new caretaker. You can’t dump them at a nice farm-house in the country. Nobody wants to deal with an asshole of a pet dragon. Even when you go on vacation. Still your my problem.
My children (as offspring often are) happen to be entirely dependent on me to entertain them, feed them and house them in a comfortable home. The same home which they are constantly being told to clean their messes from.
The laundry is ever piling, the fridge constantly emptied and the noise ever-present.
The bathrooms are always smelly and the toilet paper rolls are always empty.
There are dirty, mismatched socks and single shoes in random places and I’m pretty sure I nearly stepped on another Lego.
The Wi-Fi is slow and the cookies are gone. A sure sign they are hiding somewhere watching Netflix while I mop the sticky substance from the kitchen floor.
They are too big to put in a basket on the church steps. At least I think so. If I have to play “guess the smell” again I might hit up the container store for the biggest basket I can find.
My spouse who I give my conditional love makes me absolutely crazy sometimes. Like now. She’s making me lose my mind. right now.
You know those plaques and signs in the zoo which tell you about the animal you’re standing in front of? Well marriage doesn’t come with those. There are no guides or maps. There are no little foot print marks to tell you what to do or where to go next.
You are on your own. If you get lost and can’t find your way, the next step could lead you into the boa exhibit where you will be squeezed lifeless and consumed.
Ok, that was dramatic but that’s what marriage feels like. sometimes.
We are about to head to a beach front hotel for a week. Just us. Sounds like a romantic dream doesn’t it? Now throw in a tiny budget and little sleep. As much love as we have we are only human and sometimes it’s not always coming up roses. I keep looking for her hand, maybe together we can reach the exit door of the aquarium building and stop feeling like we are under water.
All we need to do is get to the warm sunshine outside the exit door but it’s elusive.
and I’m too tired to form the words for directions.
and I’m too pissed off to ask her which way to go.
remember how I said sometimes she’s an asshole? Yeah that.
I miss the days of throwing caution to the wind and leaving with nothing but a bikini and a toothbrush for my next adventure.
Unfortunately I am trying to keep up my zoo. If anyone finds the door labeled “beach – this way!” let me know.
Until then I’ll just be over here with my beer slushy, teaching monkeys not to fling poo.
Sleep. I’ve come to realize when I need it, its elusive, like Big Foot or Loch Ness.
When I would really like to stay awake I’m pretty much out with zero chance of not drooling on myself.
It is evenings in particular that I find myself alone, with a workday ahead in the morning, that I can’t seem to fall asleep. Nights I need my rest to function when the sun rises. The nights I can take up the entire bed, pile all the pillows under my head and wrap myself burrito style in our blankets without anyone complaining.
These are the nights I can not convince my body to go to f*cking sleep.
I tried turning the air conditioner on, apparently a cooler room helps you sleep. It’s not helping. Someone probably made that crap up so their lovers body would be as near theirs as possible for warmth. I’m just smothered by bed covers, my cheeks are cold and I’m being assaulted by blanket burrowing dogs.
I tried to watch TV, no go. It’s not safe to venture there. There is nothing on the DVR I won’t end up binge watching a marathon season of.
I tried to lay still and breath deeply, clearing my mind. Next thing I knew I was thinking about whether my love had text me back and then I had to check my phone. Deep breathing mission aborted for the opportunity to digitally flirt.
I would try warm milk but then I’d want cookies too. I need to look amazing on the beach for vacation in just over a week. No milk, no cookies.
I might even consider taking some sort of sleep aid but then I likely would not wake refreshed. Or my luck, ever. Everyone knows that’s a terrible plan, even for those of us who don’t operate heavy machinery.
I have reached an age where I require more than 5-6 hours of snooze time or everyone I come into contact with the next day will suffer the consequences. It’s just not pretty any way you look at it and I don’t just mean the bags under my eyes.
Worst of all is my magical ability to pass out cold snuggled into my love at any given time. This little trick happens regardless of any plans we may have had that didn’t involve sleeping.
It’s a curse really. When I’m alone there is zero chance of sleep and when I’d rather enjoy her company I’m out in minutes.
To make it all worse it just so happens we work opposite schedules. This means we spend 1/2 of our nights separated. It’s awful and should somehow be illegal.
Maybe the next time I can’t sleep I’ll Google it.
Alas. Here I am thinking about what I should wear to work tomorrow…
and what we might do this weekend…
and whether my kid had me sign his homework …
and whether anyone fed the dogs tonight …
It’s a glamorous life I’m living. Especially when I should be snoozing.
It was a typical Tuesday and I was feeling a little stuffy and stuck in a weekday slump. I must have temporarily lost my mind because I decided to have a bonfire party at our house … this Friday. Seemed easy enough, I will buy some beer and chips and invite some people out.
Nothing is ever that simple. Not in my world. I have no idea what kind of fog I was walking around in and now that I’m awake and it’s Friday a.k.a. “we are partying at your house tonight, right?” I am just a bit concerned.
I pre-party shopped last night, the night before my event. That was a first. I am always on top of these things. I am always a great hostess. I always think these things through with lists and check marks and real thought. Not this time.
Although I hated it I handled that Wal-Mart cart, at 9 pm on a work night, like a boss. Narrowly avoiding free running children, detouring isle blockage, and dodging wild eyed class moms with cart loads of birthday cupcakes. I should get an award for making it out alive.
This is not my thing.
If I must shop the Wally I do it at 2 am on a Saturday with like 5 other people who are not interested in chit chat. Get your crap and get out kinda people. My people. I am not the week night last minute I’ve put it off so long I have to do it now with everyone else who is a procrastinator.
Except this week.
I think I covered all the essentials; I got the beer in 3 brands, an assortment of 2 liters, wine, chips, veggies, hummus, dips, a cheese and cracker assortment and stuff for the kids to make s’mores.
What I didn’t consider was a sheet to cover every pile of embarrassing clutter in my entire house. I am still wondering how much time it would take to buy enough covering to make my house look like one of those old abandoned houses in movies.
Or If I have enough time to hire someone to come clean up the house before anyone arrives tonight.
Or if I should cancel altogether. I could just drink the wine and eat my cheese plate alone.
I might even have enough beer to last us a few weeks. It might be totally fine.
We will probably spend all our time laughing and enjoying company around the bonfire.
My guests will probably not be attacked by dust bunnies.
What I didn’t consider was a sheet to cover every pile of embarrassing clutter in my entire house. I am still wondering how much time it would take to buy enough covering to make my house look like one of those old houses in movies. Or If I have enough time to hire someone to come clean up the house before anyone arrives tonight. Or if I should cancel altogether and drink and eat my cheese plate alone.
I will probably not be harshly judged on my lack of Martha Stewart level living. Probably. At any rate we have plenty of beer, if anyone starts looking scared I will just offer them another and a cracker from the cheese plate. I’ve got this. If I pull this off it will be a miracle.