Deadlines and the Demon Child

My son has a radar…

There is apparently a silent alarm that goes off somewhere in his little head when the following happens:

• Mommy sits at the computer
• Mommy has a deadline looming in the very near future
• Mommy thinks he is asleep and runs a bath
• Mommy kisses daddy

This alarm sounds and immediately spurs him into action…it is suddenly time to either have a walleyed hissy fit or climb something. If the alarm sounds after bedtime, it is his cue to come running out of his room like a banshee on cocaine, careening across the hardwood driving a popcorn popper machine with an Easter bucket on his head.

This is what I deal with every minute of every day…even “at work.”

…an amazing occurrence, considering that both are hidden at least 5 feet from the floor every night as a part of the bedtime ritual. The bedtime ritual that includes 4 hugs, 3 “I lub you’s”, and 2 kisses on each cheek (ours and his).

The Deadline Radar is the worst, especially considering that my “office” is in the living room. Working from home is great in theory, and to those who argue that I “am so lucky” are right in that I don’t have to pay $45 a day for childcare. However, have you ever tried to complete a college-level essay on dental procedures with a two-year-old IN the chair behind you, drawing on your neck with a Sharpie and playing Angry Birds on your ringing cell phone?

It’s no wonder I’m crazy…

Any of you work from home? What are your coping mechanisms?

AAA Batteries Shock Pen Albuquerque…How I Found my Mojo

It’s been a while, and I am sorry about that. For some reason my writing mojo went out the window for a while.

I couldn’t add winning search terms, because for some reason people who “found me” decided to have a month of being damn normal.

What did happen that I could’ve/might’ve/should’ve but didn’t blog about?

I couldn’t find much creative stimulation about my search terms results: “taking a toddler to basketball game” and “dslr camera blog.” What happened to all my crazies??? Surely you didn’t ALL get locked in a padded room sans internet access at the same time!

A Facebook dad kicked ass in Creative Parenting 306, and I shared a few thoughts and a thumbs-up, but by then the subject was (I’m sure) old news.

It snowed in Texas…that was somewhat newsworthy, but once I jotted out a Facebooks status update about it I realized I’d pretty much exhausted the subject.

I revamped my photography website with some fresh info, and opened an online portfolio that shows up well on my Kindle Fire (LOVE my new toy)…much easier to show people samples in person without lugging around $200 worth of prints.

I went crazy in Vistaprint. I have postcards with a senior special and pretty new business cards and flyers…but didn’t see anyone being especially interested in reading about it.

My son has taken to calling me “Baby,” if I don’t answer to Momma on the first attempt. The Guru calls me that when I’m in his good graces, and The Climber knows I’ll answer to it. It’s funny…but this is pretty much the whole story.

See, my life got too boring to blog about. Sad.

Then, tonight, in a shining moment of internet happy…

“aaa batteries shock pen albuquerque”

YESSS! My crazies have finally spoken! Yesterday, someone stumbled upon little old me in the vast world of “the net” just by using…

I have to type it again…

“aaa batteries shock pen albuquerque”

And there, in this simple nonsensical phrase, I found my mojo.

See ya soon.

~T

 

The Bucket List that Fate would have Written for You

Since I have started blogging, there is one person that never never fails to read my posts, share them on Facebook, and encourage me to keep going (or kick me in the ass with a reminder that I have “neglected my duties”) more than anyone. The topic of this post was her idea and suggestion, and I decided to run with it…Thanks Susy!

The “Bucket List.” It’s a popular thing now…and mine is one of the few blogs without one. Seems everyone is making a list of what they fully intend to do and want to experience before it’s too late.

That’s not what this is.

Yeah, yeah, someday I will make a Bucket List of my own…and I will post it here for your amusement.

But this one is a little different. My list for today is going to be all the things you NEVER once thought you would do, intended NOT to do, or otherwise ended up involved in that you would never have planned on.

This isn’t exactly an Anti-Bucket List, but similar.

This is the Bucket List that Fate would have written for you with her cruel twists and gleeful cosmic jokes…

• You will travel several states away in search of an ancient cemetery for the purpose of…well, you won’t have a good reason. You will take this 36 hour road trip on a bus with dozens of strangers. (some of my cooler relatives actually did this one)
• You will grow up without the intention of EVER having children because you like the order and freedom of your own existence too much to share. Then you will be blessed not only with two children, but two children JUST LIKE YOU.
• You will spend adolescence fighting with your mother about your messy room…then you will develop adult-onset OCD…and have a messy child.
• You will overcome your shyness in one fateful night, and realize this when you wake up the morning after your twenty-first birthday party with the terrible realization that you accepted a new job the night before…as a bartender in the bar you celebrated in.
• You will find out that the bartending job will become the most loved and long-lasting job you ever had. You will discover yourself behind that sticky bar, make some of your dearest friends, and learn more than college ever thought to teach. You will get comfortable in your own skin and come out of your shell to never go back in.
• You will spend more on an education you will never use than you will make in any one decade of your life.
• You will get mad at a boyfriend and pack your bags, call a cousin to come get you, and move out of the state.
• You will find out that the cousins you fight with as children become damn good friends as adults.
• You will not forget the people who were cruel to you in high school. You will also not forget the people who were kind.
• You will discover that you work much better for yourself.
• You will be a night-owl in a world of people who leap out of bed at sunup like a freaking cheerleader on crack…you will resent these people and spend your life making coffee and trying to convince them NOT to call you before noon.
• You will discover that the only thing you need for an impromptu trip to Albuquerque (simply because you like the name and you’ve never been) is two friends, a Ford pickup with an intact radio, a giant bag of Funyuns, and someone’s boyfriend’s gas card.
• You will discover that the return trip (from anywhere) is never as great as the trip there. Unless you took a bus, then got smart and rented a car to come home in.
• You will have an incurable soft spot for cats. You will marry a man who is allergic to them.
• You will bungee jump for the first time in the parking lot of a Ford Dealership from a rusty crane. Your mother won’t speak to you for a month.
• You will learn to drive a stick shift. You will abandon the whole concept in the middle of college traffic at 5pm on a Friday in the middle of the busiest intersection in town and hitch a ride home. The owner of the extended cab, long-bed Ford dually will have to come fish his boat out of traffic himself. He will forgive you…eventually.
• You will take out a mailbox with an 18-wheeler.
• You will yell at inept tech-support people at AT&T, at least two bosses, and a bank manager.
• You will throw flaming cookies out a seventh floor window after forgetting they were baking…for a couple of hours.
• You will stand barefoot (as a child) on a fish your dad caught and talk about the “whale.” You will also tell him it’s “darker than hell” outside while sitting on the armrest of his truck.
• You will learn to speak a foreign language well enough to start a fight.
• You will laugh in spite of yourself the first time your child says “dammit.”
• You will get out of speeding tickets by crying, flirting, and using the “but I really gotta pee!” excuse. Then you will marry a cop.
• You will stash photos of a cowboy water-skiing in swim trunks and a stetson for later blackmail material. You will later exchange these photos for equally incriminating ones of yourself.
• You will organize at least one bikini square dance.
• You will creep through old houses at night with friends and be convinced there are ghosts.
• You will believe in ghosts, vampires, and superstition…and not care who knows it.
• You will get tattoos and piercings.
• You will learn that following all the rules and doing everything “by the book” would have made you a completely different person…and you won’t regret a damn thing.

Scorpion Karma Led You To Me…

I found something cool today…a little late, considering I have had a blog here for a while…while I was exploring the finer points of the “new” WordPress features.

I was proud of myself; I normally can’t be bothered with the technical aspects of online shyte, like stats, search terms, search engine optimization and all that. It’s enough for me to know what that means.

Anyway, I found a great little list of the search terms that people have used to find me! Considering the list is pretty useless for a technological hater like me, the great treasure in finding it for me was purely in for entertainment…

Until I began to notice some of the terms people have typed into Google that ultimately led them here to me. That’s when I began to worry.

I am aware there are some strange and unusual people out there with their freak flags waving high and proud, but I preferred to think that they were out there somewhere reading sci-fi blogs and adding weird photos to the Cheezburger network. They are…but they are also finding me!!!

The people in white coats with giant butterfly nets are going to come after me if I keep showing up in some of these crazy disturbing searches!!!

Here are some of the more, um…colorful phrases that have led them here to m:

• Hippie voicemail – Did hippies have voicemail?  Yeah, yeah, I know…the title of my blog ties in here…but what the heck were they actually looking for? I might just want to read that one!
• Make trash – Do I talk about trash too much? When? I do not have a single trash tag that I recall. Granted, I have the occasional incidence of blogging while drinking, but I do not remember discussing trash in any great detail.
• Naked hippie children photos – Ok, this one is a little alarming. Are we talking about a naked hippie looking for photos of children? Or some pervert looking for photos of children with long hair and birthday suits flashing a peace sign? Either way, NOT someone I want hanging around!
• Cowboy gun spinning – I feel sorry for the poor redneck who was looking for instructions on how to spin their revolver around a finger a la Doc Holiday and instead found my story about the snake and the flip-flop. Poor guy might still be sitting shell-shocked in front of his computer wondering why in the hell some people attempt the redneck life when they are clearly out of their league and wearing the wrong shoes.
• Minion bed sheet – Bed sheets for minions? Bed sheets with minions printed on them? Someone found a minion in their bed?
• History of catnip – “Hey, look…some leafy plants! Let’s go feed it to an animal and see what happens!”
• fears tough men have – This was probably searched for by an angry housewife looking to scare her husband into submission…
• karma lessons for the scorpions – Say what!?!? I am picturing a gothic-dressed teeny-bopper who likes to pretend she’s Wiccan, sitting in a beanbag chair with a purple and black spray-painted laptop searching for revenge spells to cast on her evil classmates. Or a mis-guided classic rock fan.
• Can i sell a kidney in Texas – This one bothers me a bit…I somehow didn’t think the black market for organs would have been too widespread in Texas. The kidney-selling scene is one I always pictured being more popular on some yuppie college campus up North. It does make me wonder, though…how much does a kidney sell for?
• Happily psychotic – Hehee, now THIS person might have actually been looking for ME!
• Hippie minion – Exactly what makes a minion become a hippie minion? Is it a penchant for running around naked? Check. Unruly hair and a love of classic rock? Check. Wears love beads? Check.   I guess I have a couple of hippie minions. Was this person in the market for one? If so, I might consider renting mine out.
• Anaconda face close up snaps – Ok, where in the hell did this one come from, and HOW did it direct a person to this blog???
• Chauffer waiting – I don’t have a chauffeur. Especially one that waits on me. This person must have been sadly disappointed. Another thing…how did anything mis-spelled direct anyone here??? That offends me deeply.
• Happy hippie house cleaning – Is this a service they offer? And do they make good money? I could clean houses in my best ripped jeans, singing “Tuesday’s Gone” loudly and off-key, and using the foaming glass cleaner to draw smiley faces and peace signs on people’s windows. Where do I sign up???

Well, that about does it for the really outrageous search terms. I will continue to strive to be random enough that I get “found” by lots and lots of freak-flag-waving psychos so that I will have another good batch of outrageous search terms for you soon.

Have a great night, my hippie minions and gun-spinning scorpion fans…

I’m Ba-a-a-ack!

Oh my dear blog…how I have missed you!

And to the people who keep sending me the lovely passive aggressive “get off your ass” emails (like “ohhhh, when is there going to be another blog post, I am going through humor withdrawals” and “get off your ass and write something for us”), I haven’t forgotten to write!!!

I have a confession…

I have been writing for someone else.

Shhhh…

I really didn’t have a choice!! See, due to a financial crunch, I had to take on something I never really wanted to tie myself up with…a ghost-writing assignment that had me re-writing (ugh) existing essays into articles. There were only a few hundred of them.

My creative personality has been rocking in the corner for weeks.

Seriously…I’ve taken to listening to Country while I work…it’s awful!

So, my point is (if there ever was a point), I am going to try not to neglect you again, my dear blog. I will give you a pretty new theme later, to make up for it.

I am listening to a wondermous mix of Nirvana, Bon Jovi, and NIN (hey, don’t judge!), my minions are playing with their fairies and Zhu-zhu critters, and the Guru is sleeping off a toothache.

The convenience store downtown was stocked up on energy drinks and Red Diamond fake-sweet tea.

The endless line of rewrites has been submitted, to be lost in cyberspace somewhere where nothing matters but keyword density and SEO.

…and I really have nothing else terribly interesting to talk about.

But I am off my ass and (hopefully) blogging again without such long absences.

The SpongeBob Band-Aid on My Left Buttcheek

Today was one long series of unfortunate events of the sort that Jim Carrey would never survive. It began with last night’s craft project and concludes with the character Band-Aid on my ass…

Last night I took some old photo frames that were the same size and color, sanded down the sides until they all matched perfectly, and fitted them together into a frame collage. It was gorgeous, if I may say so myself, each frame was black with gold trim so together it looked pretty fancy.

In this new set of frames I placed some black and white prints of kittens in costumes that I had been saving for years that came from a calendar…many many years ago. I have not seen a calendar similar to this, ever. I was saving the prints for something special.

I proudly hung the completed piece of art in my bathroom on a blank wall that has been bugging me. As a freelance writer with two kids out on the Back 40 of Hell’s Half Acre, I don’t exactly have much money. Extra things like home decorating items and wall art are luxuries that we just can’t buy. So anytime something can be made cheap and still looks classy, we are quite delighted with it.

This morning, things went pretty much as usual, my son woke me up at the crack of dawn to dance to CMT (his favorite early-am activity). I drank coffee that took an hour to brew (Hard water = a coffee pot that drips water at the rate of a slowly leaking faucet). I fixed us all bowls of our favorite cereal (none of the three of us like the same kind on the same morning…it is apparently against some cosmic rule).

I subsequently dumped out a bowl each of Cookie Crisp, Cinnabon-Something-or-Other, and Fruity Pebbles when I discovered the milk was a little…sharp. Eggs were rejected for the fact that I had exactly two eggs, and three hungry people. The kids got Pop-Tarts, I got another cup of coffee.

After that it was back to CMT and Legos for the munchkins, and I went into the bathroom to put on makeup and do something with my hair. My son gave me two minutes to get good and into the application of my eyeliner (very black, btw), then came marching up behind me with a TV remote in hand, headed for the toilet.

I leapt across the room, screeching “Nooooo!” and saved the remote in the nick of time, while apparently drawing an impressive black stripe across my face. Unfortunately either the high-pitched noise, the sudden shudder of the room from me jumping, or karma from the last bug I squished, something managed to dislodge the nail holding up my pretty creation from last night.

The entire thing came crashing down into the bathtub, shattering into dozens of splinters of glass and wood (insult to injury: the places I glued were mostly intact). Even the photos tore just enough to render them mostly useless in the future.

My saving grace in that moment was that the entire mess was limited to the interior of the bathtub, so it was fairly easy to scoop it all out, then shake out the bath mat and rinse the tiny shards down the drain. Plus, I could do all this with the munchkins and their curious little fingers locked safely out of the room until the glass was cleared.

It also gave me a few minutes to bawl like a baby and mourn the loss of the cool wall art that I would have dragged all house-guests into the bathroom to look at for the next month.

Once all of that was done, and the rest of the morning passed without any bloodshed or major malfukulations (yea…….sound it out…..there ya go), we all trooped out to Plainview to pay a bill that was due today.

I took with me all the money I had, which was enough to pay the bill and buy the gas to get back home. I did not consider that we would be passing roughly 137 snow-cone stands and a dozen ice cream trucks on this journey in 103 degree heat (but it’s a DRY heat…ha). I couldn’t buy the treats; couldn’t even stop for my gimongous iced tea from Sonic as I had hoped. We got the bill paid and the truck back up to a quarter tank with about 17 cents to spare.

By this time, the kids were sweaty and mutinous…

The bribe I got them out of Plainview on was that it’s Tuesday…and Meemaw (my grandmother) ALWAYS goes to the pizza buffet night in Lockney, and we have a standing invitation to go eat with her each and every Tuesday. We have been doing this for over a year at least a couple times a month, and not once has she allowed us to pay for our meal. Therefore I felt fairly safe in the drive to Lockney.

Nope. This turned out to be the one Tuesday that she wasn’t home, wasn’t in town, wasn’t anywhere to be found. If looks could kill, the tiny lightning bolts flying at the back of my head from the backseat would have taken me out right there on Main Street, crashing the truck into the newly remodeled pizza place.

I pacified the kids with a trip to visit my parents (they LOVE Grandma and Papaw), and got lucky. Mom had some money she was saving for me from some of my storage stuff she’d sold for me.

Therefore, I got to feed the angry, hungry minions!

It wasn’t pizza, but Dairy Queen fries and chicken saved me from a sure overthrow of the throne tonight.

Getting back home was uneventful, as was most of the rest of the evening. The kids watched iCarly and George Lopez while I got a few things written for “work.”

My son drowned my favorite makeup brush in the bathtub and my daughter had a hissy fit because I wouldn’t let her wear a pageant dress and boots to bed. The cat scratched the smallest one for dragging him around by the tail, and the screeches that ensued scared the loopy cowdog outside. The dog howled for half an hour, and the kids went to bed mad at me…for some reason, it was all Momma’s fault, as always.

Finally…

Finally, the kids were in bed and I was alone (well, reasonably so, the kitten in the house doesn’t count). I poured a glass of bourbon and diet coke because I am NOT a glass of wine kind of girl, and I ran the bathtub full of bubbles and bath salts.

I sank into the tub and slid down…and immediately jumped back out, splashing water and bubbles all over the bathroom.

Yeah, there was a piece of glass in the bath mat that had evidently survived the cleanup efforts of the morning.

Yeah, I cut my ass cheek.

And yeah, considering that I am really not a Band-Aid kind of person, it is quite an admission for me to tell you that since the location of the cut was just so that shorts were uncomfortable, I decided to put a bandage on it.

There are dozens of bandages in my house, in every shape and size, in Tinkerbell, Hannah Montana, Cars, Toy Story, and more…lots to choose from.

I put SpongeBob on my buttcheek just for spite.

Coming Soon: Mommy Point System

There is a project I’ve been working on. As a Mommy, I sometimes go to bed at night wondering if I succeeded that day in being a good parent.

If they are alive and healthy in their beds, was the day a success? Or is that the baseline of expectation, and I have only succeeded if they are in bed with full tummies, clean hair and sheets, full of the educational bedtime stories I have read, and without the TV on?

Therefore, I have been working on a points system much like that in Weight Watchers or something where there is a specific goal for those list-making, obsessively worrisome, perfectionist mommies out there like me. We can either attain a goal and go to bed at night happy and satisfied that we are raising future doctors and lawyers…..or I am giving us all something else to stress about.

We shall see….

Writers are a Pain in the Ass

• They tend to think on seven or eight channels at once. If you cannot keep up, you will be lost.
• Every little thing is over-explained. As in, even the simplest concepts will usually be reiterated several times, usually with examples of similar situations/concepts. Those examples will be carefully crafted to fully explain the concept, and you will have to sit through another explanation of why the example is not exactly like the concept that was the original point. This might require examples as well, depending on the complexity of the original concept, and peripherally, the sample given.
• They tend to utilize gargantuan idioms in an attempt to completely take advantage of an extensive vocabulary.
• There are times that a writer will trail off of a sentence or conversation into their own oblivious… If you can get them to revisit a subject where they actually left off, you’re doing great!
• If you piss off a writer, you will find yourself the subject of an exaggerated (but ultimately true) blog post that makes you look like the jackass you are. Links to the blog will be sent to everyone you ever knew.
• You will suddenly realize in random conversations that the writer has zoned out and you’ve been talking to yourself for half an hour.
• The “do not disturb” sign on the computer/home office/desk area is NOT a mere suggestion. Violating the terms of “do not disturb” is punishable by death.
• Creative differences. Enough said.
• There are sticky notes with random, unintelligible snippets all over the place. It is not a funny joke to rearrange them. Actually throwing them away holds the same sentence as a third violation of the “do not disturb” sign.
• You can be chatting with a writer seemingly just fine and he/she will suddenly wander off in the middle of the conversation, usually chewing on a pen.
• The little notebook that goes everywhere with a writer? DON’T touch it. EVER.
• They will give you “Word of the Day” toilet paper.
• If you live with a writer, you might as well feed the fish…you will be the only one who remembers on a consistent basis.

 

How my mind works…

It is sometimes almost scary to be in here, and at the very least it is often quite confusing. I tend to run on several channels at once, with interference from each one creating an undertone of distracting noise on the others.

I figured I might be able to record a sample of my typical thought train and see how it looked in writing.

Ok…yes, I am bored and couldn’t think of anything brilliant to write about for the moment, so I am writing a post about nothing in particular.

I was sitting on the front steps earlier watching my son play in his sandbox with his favorite cat and found myself contemplating the energy drink in my hands. It bragged: non-carbonated, all-natural, guaranteed to quench even the “most intense thirst.”

I found myself thinking about thirst-quenching drinks and wondering why some work better than others. Tea and water, for example, work everytime…if the tea is unsweetened. Add sugar and it seems to detract from the tea’s thirst-quenching abilities. Sugary lemonade, though, can work great. So it really doesn’t make sense, since apparently the presence of sugar doesn’t really have an effect on thirst-quenching success.

That got me on a tangent of why non-carbonated beverages work so much better than carbonated ones…since you would think bubbles wouldn’t really make that much of a difference. I second-guessed myself on that one when I remembered the “crisp, clean taste of Sprite” which is carbonated, sugary as hell, and kills thirst as well as any tea or lemonade…if it’s cold. The cold vs. warm debate was not one I wanted to get into with myself, so I ignored that thought.

Speaking of thirst, I wondered…is that what it is like to be a vampire? The most thirsty you can get, where only tea or water will work, seems to burn in the back of your throat. If that is how a vampire feels, then I truly feel sorry for them. It would be horrible to not be able to turn to a huge glass of iced tea…

Furthermore, how can blood quench a thirst? It’s hot and sticky and I can’t imagine that would be a good feeling on the back of a parched throat. Would chilled blood work better? And would it somehow not be as good if they drank it from a cup with a straw? Somehow that just seems more civilized and less messy. Preferably a cup that is not clear… A lid would also be good, bloodstains suck to get out of carpet.

In Twilight, Bella drank her blood from a cup when she was pregnant with the half-vampire child. Wouldn’t that be impossible? A vampire is essentially dead…wouldn’t the sperm be well past swimming and fertilizing??

Anyway…those books (Twilight series) were so much better than the movies, even though the movies were entertaining. I liked the cast they chose for everyone except Rosalie…for some reason I didn’t think the actress was pretty enough to live up to the books’ descriptions of “the most beautiful creature anyone had ever seen.” I mean, the movie Rosalie had black eyebrows and white-blonde hair. That isn’t all that attractive on any creature. That’s just me though…I’m not really into tall blonde chicks, hehee.

Speaking of books, movies, and vampires…

Why can’t they make movies of the Anita Blake (Laurell K. Hamilton) series? Those were a hell of a lot more entertaining and imaginative than Twilight…and wouldn’t have sparked an entire nations disbelief in a sparkly vampire. Hamilton’s vampires were just as sexy as Edward Cullen any day…but they didn’t sparkle. They were too cool for that.

I liked that the were-animals in the Blake series were far more diverse than a few small-town werewolves. There are gun-toting wererats and stripper wereleopards…so much cooler!

No, I actually don’t read only about vampires…I read all kinds of things. I like crime thriller type books, and am a fan of Iris Johansen and Sandra Brown. Some of Stephen King’s stories are okay, but a little over-rated. Except Christine. Christine was probably one of my favorite books of all time. I loved that mean, jealous, bitchy car!

The movie was ok…not great. I am not usually thrilled with remakes, but that one would be a good one for the “movie people” to make a newer version of. They would have to keep the make and model of the car though…she just wouldn’t look right as a shiny new Chevy or something.

Too bad they’ve really run out of ideas for good movies. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen more than a handful of really good movies. They are all tedious and boring now. A few have been ok. The Ugly Truth was a little cheesy, but fun. How Do You Know turned out to be really good. Of course, I love Jack Nicholson…you cannot beat his sarcastic charm.

Did Robert Duvall die? I always liked him, too…he was (is?) an awesome actor. I loved his character in Lonesome Dove. I still cry everytime Gus dies. He was also pretty good in Days of Thunder.

Tom Cruise was so much better back then…when he wasn’t afraid to “act outside the proverbial box.” Interview with the Vampire…he made a great Lestat. I wonder if he is still into the whole Scientology thing, and how they felt this weekend when the world didn’t end? Were they one of the groups that were expecting us all to get snatched up out of our shoes Saturday?

Someone made a joke that the Rapture didn’t happen because God and Jesus decided it wasn’t worth the price of gas to come down at this time… I thought that was freaking hilarious, some people didn’t see the humor. I was one of the ones in favor of buying a bunch of blow-up dolls, filling them with helium, and releasing them at 6 o’clock Saturday evening to watch people freak out. I’m not exactly politically correct though.

I wish the wind would stop blowing…my daughter has been wanting to get out her slip n slide. Lately though, it would turn into a mudbath that I really don’t want to clean up. Not to mention, poor Dylan would blow away if he were on a slippery surface.

Cheyenne’s program at school is tomorrow morning, then they are going to spend a couple of days with Grandma. YAY!!! Peace and quiet!!

Maybe I will get some more done those two days…I really need to write some stuff for something other than this. Even though this is my favorite project. I also need to clean up the house. I have dishes in the dishwasher that need put away, and I have laundry that needs folded.

Those are my two biggest pet peeves…putting up clean clothes and dishes. I have no idea why, but I don’t mind washing either, but putting them away is annoying. My clothes stay in a pile most of the time until they get worn. This bugs the crap out of me sometimes, and other times I think, “who really gives a rat’s ass if they are in the closet or a basket anyway?”

I guess I answered my own question…sometimes I give a rat’s ass. Life would be so much less stressful if I could just let go of the notion that they needed to be put away neatly and let them sit in their basket. Then I wouldn’t have to put them away, but I also wouldn’t have to feel guilty because I haven’t yet.

Okay, that was over 1200 words on absolutely nothing at all, and I have better things to do. Hope you enjoyed the ride on that thought train!

Happily Psychotic

My very soul is in my very failure.

I have OCD, and I have BPD. Both are me in so many ways that they cannot be taken without losing me. I am creative and passionate…and much of it is due to these flaws. I could medicate and therap-ize myself until I am “level.” But I wouldn’t want to know that boring, sunken-in-sameness person that would emerge.

I could easily rid myself of depression and lose the tendency to procrastinate. I could stop the habit of taking on 137 projects at once and finishing 3. I could stop making sure that things are grouped in odd numbers and save trees if I didn’t need to re-write my grocery list 7 times. I could hug friends and shake hands with strangers. I could fix myself into a person who doesn’t lose her temper and occasionally throw something glass into a wall.

I could… But I won’t.

Why? Because I would lose passion and the outrageous creativity that makes things I write and photograph less ordinary. I would be bored, and boring…and worse yet, I might not know or care.

Thanks but no thanks…I’ll stay crazy!! Ordinary scares me more than psychosis.