Tag: lesbian

What I learned today about people

myidioticblissLeave a comment

I work in a people oriented business. It’s a small office and sometimes hard not to become an expert listener with so many stories.

I live in a small town type place. I’m raising my family in a house just big enough, nestled on the top of a mountain surrounded by other houses I can’t see but know exist. I rarely see people come in or out of these dwellings. I prefer my privacy but am kind to those who have shown interest in our presence.

I know people from the community from all walks of life. We have other lesbian friends we identify with. We know couples and singles from varied sexual orientation, religion, race and economic status. I have always been proud to be able to communicate freely, sometimes befriending, people of all walks.

I try to make every encounter as pleasant as possible. People I care for and people I don’t cross my path every single day. Not always in person, sometimes on the road while driving or in my social media feeds as I scroll. Sometimes for my work and sometimes in my personal life. Each an experience yet most not life changing.

There is at no point in my day that I allow my interactions to take on a malicious intent. I do not set out to harm others, or to chip away at whatever happiness they carry with them.

I do  not concern myself with the relationship status or the circle of friends people subscribe.

I do not base my entire interaction on what others may offer me personally.

I strive everyday to better, to be a better person. To love more, to understand more, to teach more. To understand and to grow more.

Each day I learn that other people don’t share the same desire. The same ideas about love and honesty. The same approach to kindness and human decency.

Today I was reminded that some people care only about what you may have to offer them. They care to make themselves look bigger, better, smarter, more loveable. All this without the effort to earn it, without the effort to learn it and live it.

All this to achieve attention with no intention above self interest.

Today I learned that the world has a great deal of deception, of worry, of concern for not the greater good but for self worth.

Today I learned what a fragile thing human emotions are. How deeply words penetrate.

What I learned about people today is that they are capable of love and of hate.

We can all make a choice to be villainous, kindness however is basic human nature.

The day they ate all my cocoa almonds and the world almost ended

myidioticbliss2 Comments

It may seem a little dramatic for a blog title … “The day they ate all my cocoa almonds and the world almost ended”  but it’s the truth.

I was having a bad day at work. I had skipped lunch because I knew we would be celebrating one of our favorite friends birthdays that evening.

My wife on the other hand had the day to herself and decide to get her snack on.

She found a hidden bag of cocoa almonds tucked away in the pantry. A delicious dark chocolate snack I was saving for a day of all days. The kind where you want to eat something deliriously chocolaty for dinner and wash it down with a chilled bottle of wine.

I wasn’t even so upset about it when she text me. She was giddy. Like she found a pot of chocolate wrapped gold coins at the end of a Skittles rainbow.

I didn’t pout when she told me she opened the bag and sampled the goodness inside.

It was alright. Really.

I was focused on making it the rest of my work day and getting to the restaurant on time. I knew what I was having when we got there too; a buffalo fried chicken salad with ranch, a couple beers and a big ole piece of that red velvet cake we bought the birthday girl.

To say I was hangry by the time we got to our favorite lakeside patio and were seated would be pretty accurate. I was both agitated by work events and starving from a lack of lunch break.

I needed sustenance … pronto.

We were seated and approached by non other than the server from our last visit. The one we didn’t like. The one who was slow to fill our drinks or even check on us last time. I was hopeful that this visit wouldn’t be a repeat.

I was so naive.

We did get our appetizer, and our first beer. He did take the cake to the cooler for us and promised to bring it out when we finished our meals. That was about the extent of my hopefulness.

Our friends orders came out wrong and missing side items. Our food never came at all. He never came back to check if everything was alright. I was getting more and more anxious and well … pissed off. I watched other tables get their orders. I watched the sun slowly setting on the horizon. I watched a small child nearly fall into the lake and  most importantly I watched my glass empty.

I was getting more and more irate. Have you ever witnessed a professional in the business of customer service be under served? It isn’t pretty. I said bad words. I shot a glare across the breezeway that made the server want to jump right past that unattended kid and into the lake.

Our friend flagged him down and forced him to confront our table. He nodded that he understood our complaints and ran off. A manager quickly came back to smooth things over. She made it all well, apologized for ruining our evening and summoned the remainder of our order.

We finished our meal and a second round before I requested the special item we brought in with us be delivered. The manager looked at me quizzically, she had no idea what I was talking about. Or she did and realized that this meant not only was dinner a disaster but it was a special occasion.

In the end everyone was fed, we shared cake with other tables and the helpful manager. Our bill was comped and we were given coupons to come back, all totally unnecessary as we are regulars and would have come back anyway. It was a nice touch though and I appreciated the efforts.

The end of the night came and I strolled into the house, put down my bag and went to turn out every light in the house so that we could go to bed.

I walked into the kitchen and there it was … my bag of almonds. Or should I say the bag that held my almonds when I left that morning.

It was like the final smack in the face.

One tiny chuck left in the bottom of the bag. The kids had polished off the sweet open bag of goodness like it wouldn’t be noticed.

I took a deep breath. Then another. I turned off the lights and took a shower. I climbed into bed unable to turn to the wife. I just couldn’t make her understand why I was so damn mad. My work, my birthday dinner surprise, now my almonds. My cocoa almonds!

When I was a child I was told once the world wouldn’t end if I had a bad day.

Yesterday it almost did.

 

Her Birthday.

myidioticblissLeave a comment

Every year it is the same thing. She doesn’t want a big fuss but if she doesn’t get the traditional “happy birthday” and a gift there will be hell to pay.

The last couple of years we made a point to schedule our vacation time for her birthday week. Most of if not the entire week is spent on beach chairs, sipping from alcoholic beverages and soaking up every bit of sunshine humanly possible.

This year was no exception to the few before.

Except that I planned to buy her a birthday cake. I wanted to surprise her somehow in the room before her special adults only dinner. Her favorites, crab legs and more beer than one stomach should possibly hold.

Only this year it didn’t quite go as planned.

It so happened my only chance to get her cake was while she was with me. She had a minor tantrum right there in the bakery section of the grocery. I asked her to pick out a cake, she argues she doesn’t want one. I insist that the children want to celebrate her day and cake is how it’s done. She shrugs in  defeat and walks to the cake section again like a toddler forced to participate in group play.

She chooses a cheesecake.

I roll my eyes.
Not in such a way she shouldn’t have what she wants; I absolutely think one should be treated to any sweet desired on her birthday. However, I had planned on cheesecake for the private after dinner treat at her favorite restaurant.

She was ruining things and I was losing my temper.

Finally she picks a cake, after some threats and whispered expressions of aggravation. All the while we are circling a public shopping center. Shooting dirty looks at each other and anyone who dares notice the tension.

We make it back to the room and she gets her cake. The kids are happy. Everyone is happy.

Then comes time for the date night birthday dinner.

She loves crab legs, she eats them only once a year. The first year we were together we were engaged over crab by the ocean. Each birthday since the first she has enjoyed the same for her birthday week. It’s her thing. I don’t partake in such but I respect that it’s her favorite.

This year like all the others I watch her eyes dance when the plate is delivered. She reaches for the utensils to pull the meat from the long, freakish looking shells. She then drudges each piece into the cup of melted butter … dripping everywhere as she does. She scolds me to look away but I can’t. I just can’t avoid the butter on her fingers and the shine on her chin. You would think this to be intensely disgusting but in her own charm she makes it look sincerely endearing.

She continues on and about halfway into her mound she comes across a particularly tough leg to crack. She gives it her all and in slow motion we watch as a piece flings from our table to the next … narrowly missing the occupants. The piece bounces off an unknowing strangers handbag and onto the floor.

We look on horrified.

My hand to my mouth and her with buttery fingers still holding the remainder of the leg with a hint of butter slick on her chin.

Nobody seems to notice what just happened. I wait to take a breath for fear we will be escorted out before she can have her damn cheesecake.

We are asked if we might need a box, I advise we do. She exclaims to the waiter that she needs no box, only a shower. Probably an even mix of beer and truth talking.

Before long the plates are cleared and to-go boxes readied. We continue drinking her ginormous 100 ounce personal tap and casually discuss her day. Sunshine, sand, birthday dinner … it’s been a great day.

She heads to the bathroom and the waiter sneaks a fancy fried cheesecake thing with ice cream and a chocolate strawberry swirled concoction laced over the top. This bowl is surely delivered straight from the birthday heavens.

She is overjoyed.

The waiter comes back to ask her how she likes it, tells her happy birthday once again and retreats. She smiles.

Success.

image
Birthday girl

Happy birthday my love. May we spend many more with even better stories to tell. I adore you.

Real marriage advice – life, love and not speaking to each other

myidioticbliss1 Comment

It has taken me awhile but I think I have learned a little about relationships, marriages in particular. It can be such a beautiful thing, hand in hand with the intention of growing old together, raising your children and retiring to rocking chairs on the front porch. Then there are days where you can barely stand the sound your phone makes when they send you yet another text message, to which you will also be ignoring.

I have put together 7 age old ridiculous tips and some alternative real life advice from an actual married person.  Actual advice for us long term ball and chain type couples; the gay, the straight, the somewhere in between  … because we all at some point need to step back and just laugh at ourselves.

Never go to bed angry.  Seriously? Who is this helping if you stay up way past your working adult bedtime?

SHUT THE HELL UP AND GO TO BED. Your co-workers will thank me for this tip in the morning. You can hash out whose turn it is to clean the bathroom another time.

Always compliment your lover. I only agree with half of this. Do not throw around over used, thoughtless words you think she wants to hear.  She doesn’t. She will stop buying into your lip service pretty quick. That is no good for her self esteem. All you are doing is encouraging your partner to not believe anything you say. Ever.

Always be sincere. If she is looking hella hot in that dress, by all means tell her so.

**I use the pronoun “she” here but this applies to everyone. Keeping in mind this is  written by a woman who is married to a woman … I use the feminine for everything. This advice could easily be just as good for that gorgeous hunk of a man in your life.

Be reasonable in your expectations. I don’t even know what this means. What exactly is a reasonable expectation? This varies wildly. If you were raised outside of the jungle you know how to behave in society and with other people. Don’t stress about what you are expected to do as long as you aren’t being an asshole.

Real advice: No really. Just don’t be an asshole. The only expectation should be that you are kind to one another and expect that no day is ever the exact same as the one before. Roll with it together.

Trust each other. This is a hard one for me personally. Do I trust she won’t leave one day with our dogs in the passenger seat and a trail of dust behind her? Sure. Do I trust she won’t drink the last of the wine or eat all the fancy ice cream? No.

Real advice: Don’t cheat on her or eat all her ice cream. Done.

Figure out your finances before you tie the knot. Uhh, we have been married awhile and we still havn’t figured this out.

Real advice: You are on your own here. I have no advice. We make the money, we spend the money.

Be affectionate as much as possible. For the sake of everyone around you, please, we beg of you do not do this. It is rude and we will tell you to get a damn room.

Real advice: In the confines of your home or around a private corner in public places by all means grab a quick feel or smooch like teenagers. All is well and good until you are holding up the line at Target looking deeply into each others eyes.

Handle your disagreements in a healthy way. We all know that couple that breaks up and makes up all the freakin’ time. Stop it. Don’t break dishes, don’t drive off squealing tires, don’t call names and never, ever tell them you don’t love them. There is no glue to mend that kind of thing and spray paint and ribbons are not a fancy fix all. No matter what you read on Pinterest.

Real advice: Be honest, take time if you need it before you respond, use your best inside voice. We learned about not throwing tantrums and using inside voices in preschool yet sometimes we forget as grown adults.

The very best advice I have ever been given was to learn from successful couples who have amazing, healthy, happy marriages. Learn from those who know they are not perfect but they keep working on it anyway, those people are the successful ones.

Most of all be willing to laugh at yourself. It’s a lot better than being laughed at.

Leave me your best marriage advice in the comments below, I would love to hear your best “real” advice!

 wpid-wp-1432838209051.jpeg

Parenthood: tales of the lesbian step-mom

myidioticblissLeave a comment

My kids are amazing. My wife is amazing. Together they are sorta a train wreck and today I feel a little like a helpless damsel in distress tied to the train tracks with nobody to save me.

This is how it all happened …

My youngest son (preteen) and my youngest daughter (barely a teen) live with my wife (acts like a teen sometimes) and I (always the mean mom) in our lovely rural home while their father lives across the country (we like it like that). This means for the bulk of the year we co-parent in my household with 2 moms. One of those moms never had an actual human child before this relationship, let alone a pair of prepubescent know it alls.

My kids love her, she is an amazing step-mom. She does everything I do as a parent plus more, mostly without complaining.

Like I said she is ahhh-mazing.

The kids absolutely agree, her meals taste better, she is more fun … she yells less. Whatever.

Then there are the days, like today. I get a text as a I exit the shower that the boy child is home. He didn’t catch the ride to school with his sister.

I wonder to myself what happened … is he sick? Should I check on him?

Then the real questions begin …. did I bring a robe to the bathroom?

Is this towel big enough to cover me if he is lurking in the hall?

Will he see me sprint naked and afraid the 3 steps from our bathroom to the bedroom door?

After the wife arrives home from the obligatory school drop off she begins to tell me the tale of 2 children. Of how the female child was dressed, back pack and shoes ready while her younger brother was most definitely not.

She describes for me in detail what happened with the boy.

He was standing in wrinkled shorts and holding his arms wide, in a gesture we can only guess was to make himself look bigger and scarier, like a grizzly bear in an old western movie. He stood there defiantly in support of his inaction this morning, making some desperate argument about why it is he wasn’t out of bed and ready to go. He stood there insanely ranting, thin arms spread wide, arguing about whether he did or did not wake in time to leave by 7:15.

As this was unfolding the wife was processing the entire scene in her head.

This kid was wasting precious teeth brushing time. In her infinite mom wisdom she decides the boy shall stay home. The punishment stood and she left him, in his sleep clothes, red eyed and cranky.

When she returned she checked in on him and found him playing video games. Like any kid home from school (as punishment?) would be doing. I didn’t have the time to argue as I slipped a cardigan over my shoulders and grabbed my bag for work.

A few hours into my work day I receive a Skype from the wife, not abnormal as we communicate periodically like this during my work day. This time it wasn’t about after work plans or when we were scheduled to take the car in for an oil change. No. This time it read like this:

[11:42:14 AM] Wife: Your son is up here looking for borax and glue
[11:58:44 AM] Me: uhhh, no?
[11:58:48 AM] Me: for why?
[12:00:01 PM] Wife: Making messes. Aka slime.
[12:00:14 PM] Me: No.
[12:00:29 PM] Me: Welcome to parenting boys 101
[12:00:35 PM] Wife: He was about to get into the Tide. I said no.
[12:01:09 PM] Me: this is the shit I need to blog about
[12:01:24 PM] Wife: Ha.
[12:02:02 PM] Wife: Yeah. I told him we aren’t making messes today.

I am 99% sure I am going to go home this evening to find no detergent for my laundry this weekend, a slime coating on my kitchen table, an empty potato chip bag and some soda cans mixed in with a beer bottle or few, and my kid still sitting in the same wrinkled shorts playing video games.

The truth is I really don’t think I want it any other way. Except maybe if they didn’t use all the Tide for slime and maybe tossed the dirty socks into the washing matching instead of kicking them under the couch. That would be good.

That seems like the perfect equivalent to untying the distressed damsel from the train tracks …

12592553_1286030661411019_3813021427216214749_n
These people are my heart. They make me laugh, make me cry. Mostly though they make me shrug my shoulders and smile.

 

 

 

Corporate ink stains – a tattood journey

myidioticbliss2 Comments

Professionally speaking I must consider every action, my words are carefully calculated and my decisions are timed in general accordance with boosting the bottom line.

Personally however I live life on the edge. I make most of my decisions on the fly. I tornado into situations I probably shouldn’t, trapeze over pending doom without a blink and stumble into society with enough sarcasm sprinkled swear words to start a whole new language. That may be a slight exaggeration but you get the point.

While I look like a successfully employed woman, under my corporate skin is a delicately flawed masterpiece.

I love tattoos, I love the statement and sentiment and the art. I love how personal each is, how much goes into each and the emotion behind each story.

I love everything about them. Except the stigma in today’s professional environment.

This is an art form, in most cases well considered and powerfully meaningful.

Capture452

Historically people from all walks of life have been adorned with permanent ink. Royalty, warriors, sportsmen and poets. Ancestors of all nationalities, ages, and trades.

I am working on some new large pieces right now which speak to my soul. I also have several smaller works on my body, all of which I can easily cover. I am ready to cover for any situation which it is socially expected for me to do so. However, the temptation is great to get “just a little one” where it is easily visible in daily life. More visible than the ones already outside of the confines of my basic wardrobe. Just a little larger than the tiny open heart behind my ear, a little more obvious than the roman numerals of my wedding date across my foot.

Something a little more daring, a little more bold.

A bit more of a middle finger to the corporate world. A little declaration of my independence, a tiny flag flying in the face of conformity.

The love of my life for instance made a choice, much earlier than the choice to love me, to get a tattoo in a highly visible area. An ink stain handicap if you will – which is all society cares to see. It sits there defiantly on her hand just waiting to tell her truth, her unique story.

She is kind and smart and strong. She is a hard worker and a team player. She is articulate and personable.

Regardless of all of these things – in a corporate world she is simply a highly visible tattoo.

A closed door.

A rejection notice.

A “no” for any career with appearance requirements.

My desire to be unique, to express myself as an individual is stifled. Should I chose to follow my urge to expand my tattoo canvas I am a rebel. Not in such a way to be recognized as an individual but lumped together with real hardened societal taboos. The kind of harmful, dark and immoral sort of rejects you are kepttumblr_mg5rxmDtZW1rbraxfo1_500 safe from in your daily life.

Regardless of my offerings, talents and contributions, to be permanently inked in visible space is to reduce my chances of professional growth. Reduced chances by immeasurable calculations over the lifetime of my career. Considering I am forever  from retirement and have a half life yet to live I must tread a little more carefully.

I have to be very mindful not to make one of my impromptu life decisions which can not be easily reversed. My brain barely wraps around this rationalization and I must continually remind myself I would like to someday afford to retire to a beach. Painted toes in the sand and faded tattoos telling tales of my youth, the arrogance that comes with it and the love that compelled me to get them in the first place.

Until then I will wrap my art, continue on with my 9-5 and dream of the day when I can be free. I will display my inked skin without fear or rejection.

I will still be a rebel when I’m finished here, just on slightly different adventure with a few more tattoos and a way better tan.

 

 

Happy International Women’s Day or whatever day it is …

myidioticbliss2 Comments

It seems there is a holiday for everything. Yesterday was Cereal Day. Tomorrow is Unique Names Day. My favorite of all though has to be March 12th, Get Over It Day. Research says it was invented in 2005 but I’m not convinced it’s not a long running joke placed coincidentally between Valentines and April Fools.

As for today … it’s officially International Women’s Day. I may have just rolled my eyes. Before I am tackled to the cold hard ground by a feminist and my inbox fills with hate mail hear me out.

02268784ec03219bb7e75482a3e6707b

I am all about strong, kick ass women. Honestly.

I admire women in every corner of the world for your contributions to life and love. All the amazing work you do without formal recognition.  From those in high heels teetering around office buildings to those wearing military boots stomping alongside your male counterparts. Especially to those of you running around with one slipper, and a day short of a shower, chasing toddlers.

All of us are miracle makers, mountain movers and marvels of beauty and grace in our own right.

I happen to think I am pretty worthy of a little celebration now and again but is all this really necessary? Do we need an actual day of remembrance for our contributions, our talents and our sacrifices?

Do we not hear quiet admiration from our friends, our co-workers, our lovers and our children? Are we not honored by our successes? Do we not build each other to be better than the day before without a day to be reminded to do so?

Instead of a day to honor women internationally each and every one of us should really already be aware of our own unique contributions and appreciated for such daily. We should see ourselves worthy of a place in the world, with or without a ridiculous holiday because without us what kind of world would it really be?

You don’t need a day in your honor, find honor in every one of your days.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Making changes. Hopping trains and hoping for the best.

myidioticbliss1 Comment

There are days like any other, predictable and comfortable. Like waking on your own on a Saturday morning, with no hangover despite copious amounts of consumed wine the night before. Eyelids slowly opening to see a breakfast tray beside you, adorned with a single rose and a neatly folded napkin,  your lover waiting patiently to spoon feed you bits of syrup soaked pancake.

Then there are days so miserable and pathetic that you want to cut off all your hair, throw your phone in a nearby body of water (a toilet works), flip your wife the bird and hope all those days at the treadmill afford you the strength to chase down a moving train and hop aboard … bound for wherever hobos go in old movies.

I’m not saying I’m having a really, really bad day but there might be scissors and some pink  Nike shoes in my backpack.

Unfortunately for me I don’t own a breakfast tray, I don’t remember buying napkins at the grocery last time I went and I haven’t had pancakes since the last time Denny’s served them to me while I was wearing sunglasses.

Inside. At 10 am.

Because if you drink that much wine you will have a hang over … just like the last time. Dummy.

So here I sit, on  a Monday, procrastinating. Contemplating returning that text that will undoubtedly start a fight.

Considering dumping my phone in the ladies room but will undoubtedly regret it later.

Scanning Pinterest for ideas about how to make a hobo hanky on a stick that will match my escape outfit.

*FYI that stick is called a “bindle” … thanks eHow for clearing that up for me. http://www.ehow.com/how_8193614_make-hobo-bag-stick.html

A girl has to be stylish even when fleeing from reality. I think I will pass on the hair cutting but I do need a change. Sleep and pancakes would probably be a good start. If that doesn’t work my next blog may just be from the train.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good morning sunshine, a canine calamity

myidioticblissLeave a comment

1003073_727448280602596_401554036_nMy 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.

Misadventures in blogging.

myidioticblissLeave a comment

I realize it’s been awhile since I’ve written.

I almost feel guilty about it really.

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.