Grief and moving on

During my divorce my mother in law explained how small losses in life are actually beneficial.  These are just stepping stones for the constant crushing blows that we face in our adult lives. With the exception of my divorce, my beloved Cecil and my step dog I have actually never really experienced any real significant losses.  In fact with the exception of my unfortunate derby injury this past little while I have been met only with wins and gains and I'm practically farting rainbows all over the place.

                                                              Until this morning

 Stage One-Shock and Denial

No.  Nononononono.  This is not happening.  I can't...I just...NO!  It's ok.  I can fix it!  Totally fixable!

Stage Two-Pain and Guilt

Why didn't I appreciate it more when I had it.  The glorious weight.  The way it held the perfect amount of coffee.   Oh the colours. Did I leave it carelessly in the sink, underneath all of the dishes??  Oh god....it hurts...my tetris mug.   All of my other mugs sucks.  It's not the same.  I hate itttttttt. Ack!!!!

Stage Three-Anger and Bargaining

Who the FUCK used my mug and left it in the sink!?!?!   Seriously.  WHO DID THIS.  LOOK AT THIS AND WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!!!  You have destroyed meeeeeee.   Meeeeeee....  You know what, think geek?  Go fuck yourself for no longer having this mug.  FUCK YOU.  You have destroyed my happiness.  Ok. It's going to be ok.  If I can find this mug elsewhere I will totally bail on buying skiis and I will bail on the European skiing adventure the winter will bring.  Besides, who am I kidding, I might hate skiing but I LOVE this mug.  Come back.  I'll love you better.  I promise.

Stage Four-Depression

 I can't do anything.  I can't figure out how to remove a wipe board.  I can't keep a mug intact.  I don't even know that a wipe board is actually called a white board.  I just keep buying shit to remove the wipe (white) board because I don't even know what this fucking wipe (white) board is made of because I can't even google properly.  I can't google, remove a wipe (white) board, keep a mug from breaking, t-stop, or knit a pattern on a hat.  Sniff...this mug was the last thing my ex ever gave me.  Now that this mug is broken I'll never be able to go to Europe.   I'm just going to sit here in bed, all unshowered, miserably drinking scotch from a sub par mug thinking about how much better it would taste if it were in my beloved tetris mug.  Someone who carelessly breaks a beloved mug doesn't deserve to use a snifter.  Poo....I don't even own snifters.

Stage Five-The Upward Turn

I guess this Halloween mug is ok.  Festive, really.  

Stage Six-Reconstruction and Working Through

I refuse to work through.  Pity and rage is better.  I want to crawl in a hole and diiiiiiiiiiie

Stage Seven-Acceptance and Hope

It's gone.  Look on the bright side, I could be in a refugee camp.  That might actually be worse.   And  I don't have cancer!  The only thing I don't have, besides herpes and a million dollars is a tetris mug.  That's pretty good.  I actually have it all any super amazing 36 year old wants.  In fact, if the ONLY criteria for true success and happiness is NOT having a tetris mug but having everything else I'm rocking in a free world!  I'm practically superman!    I'm not certain but I'm willing to bet the farm that lots of people live without tetris mugs.  Maybe they have a kitten mug, or a shark mug?  Maybe even a paisley mug.  Maybe it's ok to learn to love a new mug.

I love you, Muggy.  You were the best.  I will forever hold you in my heart and while it might hurt and it might be hard I will no doubt learn to love again.

Giddy up, Soldiers.

Talk about upgrading from awesome to spectacular!

This upgrade brings so many advantages.  Jobs are better, men are better,  Christ, even CHEESE is better.  I am practically Kim Kardashian, minus the looks, figure, personality, money and class.  But totally just like her.

The area I haven't managed to bring this most coveted upgrade to is derby.

Fucking derby.   

While I totally appreciate that I didn't join a knitters guild I honestly had no idea how goddamned hard it would be to give a hit.  My sisters schooled me well in the area of senseless brutality so I'm actually ok taking the hits as they come.   A few bruises here and there but no real problem.  Giving a hit?  HAHAHA!!   First there is this whole idea of  MAKING contact with my target and not just skating by them, missing by a good two feet.  Second, there is this silly notion that after executing your amazing hit that you actually stay on your feet.

Falling is part of the game.  I am not sure that even the most seasoned of vets can play a game without a single fall.  Falling isn't the problem.  It's doing it properly.  You have about half a second to decide what fall you're going to execute and about 2 seconds to get yourself back up and skating before you are fuuuucked.    I think a drunk monkey would be more confident on skates than I am so you can only imagine that the delicate knee tap falls are out of the question.  This leaves suicide and baseball falls.   Suicide falls I am surprisingly good at....during drills....where there is no risk of 10 other skaters rolling over my hands.  Baseball slides?  Well, let's just say that I have left the rink with countless wheel babies on my ass.   I have almost developed an affection to them.  I expect it.  I prepare for it.

But nothing could have prepared me for...the dreaded anal skate rape.

This is where my upgrade from awesome to spectacular is questioned.  A spectacular person ( I can only speculate at this point) hits clean and well and proceeds through the pace line, systematically knocking down their fellow freshmeats.    A lowly awesome person hits, starts to lose their footing and foolishly opts for a baseball slide, only forgets the slide part, land on their skate......a wheel, penetrating their beloved cornhole.   

The good news is that 15 hours later the bleeding has stopped.  The bad news is that I was just brazillianized and I don't want my super conservative and old doctor thinking I'm a hussy so I can't seek medical attention. So it's just me, epsom salts and my frozen bag of peas.  Given my penchant for  the old "wait and see" and making bad situations worse I have a slight fear that this will ultimately result in a colostomy bag.  

Derby is hurty.  But sooo soooo good.

Ah those heartbreaking pets.

I've been thinking a lot about Cecil these days.   Everything was kind of unravelling at the time of his death so I never really sat down and allowed myself to really process it.   So, it's been two months, my mind reset to normal and everything is exactly how it was and should be.

Except there is no Cecil...and that is making me pretty flipping sad.

For the most part I find animals, specifically pets, to be far better people than most humans.  I will never fully understand how folks can go through life without ever having any connection to an animal, however, I also realize that I am a giant suck when it comes to our four legged friends.

So, Cecil.   I'm not delusional.  I realize that he was a giant prick.  But I respected him.  We had a really great cohabitation going.  He was the one constant in my ever changing adult life and I am not certain I'll ever know a better feline.  This guy OWNED the world.

I often have a hard time letting go of things.  There is not one single shitty thing I have said and done that I don't revisit in my head and regret.   Where I can't forget I just try and forgive myself and be better next time.  While I KNOW that the choice to euthanize Cecil was the most humane and loving choice I am still, two months later, crippled with guilt.  I hate that I am still in a place where I can't allow myself to think about him.  It's still too hard and two months later I look at his picture at my desk and start crying.

My coworker asked me why I still had these pictures of Abbie and Cecil at my desk but no picture of Gary

 I didn't really have an answer.  I suppose it's because I go home to Gary every day.  I can't forget him.  Every morning I see him, every day we walk together.   Every night we cuddle and every day I tell him I love him.  Abbie and Cecil?  I just have the memories that frankly, I am not yet willing to let go of.  I find myself coming home and bracing myself to find garbage about the house, only to find a clean floor and no Abbie.  I literally still hear Cecil's meow in the distance and find myself looking to make sure there is water in his bowl, only to find no bowl.  Abbie and Cecil, while terrible in their own ways, were two little spirits who somehow managed to weasel their way into my heart, for better or for worse.  And even though my black cold shrivelled up heart still hurts for them, I'm not ready to forget how nice it was when Abbie groaned when you rubbed her ears or the look on her face when she was in trouble.  Or how Cecil always seemed to know the wrong time to come lay on my head.  

Two furry bastards who are gone forever.  That shit still hurts.

C'est l'Halloween..almost

Oh Halloween parties...how I love these.

While there is nothing this girl loves more than having breakfast in bed made for her it just wasn't enough to get myself out of a Jamison's aftermath and on to the rink.

Here I am, all Comic Girl'd up

And holy hell...a magician.   Like an attractive, herpes-less Chris Angel.  Mind repeatedly blown.

The best.

Innnnteresting

I have noticed some changes since this whole derby thing.  The first one being that for the first time in, well, ever, I'm totally comfortable with my body.  I think I'm heavier now than I have been in a very long time but for some reason that might be ok.  It might be my age and the whole "maturing" thing and realizing that it really just doesn't matter.   It might be because my legs are hard as rocks. It might be that I am grateful for the added padding for when I go down and make sweet sweet wheel babies on my ass.   It might also be that BECAUSE of the weight my tits are absolutely spectacular.  In any event...it's neat not to be so preoccupied.  It lends more space in my brain for real concerns such as world peace and what colour to paint the laundry room.

The second, more concerning thing is my driving.  And my walking about.  I seem to find myself viewing cars and unsuspecting pedestrians as jammers.  Targets that, if I can't hit, I need to at least put them off track.  Everything has a big ole star on their heads.

I was at the pharmacy today buying even more makeup for my costume for this evenings "CB's Fifth Annual Halloween Party" and I found myself dodging racks and people. Getting ever so close only to transition around to narrowly escape contact.  One shitty little kid was giving me stink eye so I ever so cleverly scooched around her, throwing her off track. It was exhilarating!  It is also far less hurty than locking your skates and going down hard.

The driving thing?  Along with the loss of toenails this is something I really hope passes.

Ruh roh

I just got BBM for my iphone.

Not too long ago I had exactly zero in the way of technology.  I'm not gonna lie...it's kinda awesome. It's like MSN meets google chat meets texting.


See ya never!

Roooooooooooad Trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiipppppppp!

One obvious benefit of quitting smoking is the sweet extra cash you seem to have in your pocket.

What's a girl to do?  Save wisely?  Fuuuuuck that.  I'm a-hauling my arse to Louisiana.

I would LOVE it if this could be the year I go to New Zealand, however, I do have to be semi responsible and breaking the bank just isn't within my means this year.  That said, I still have that itch to get away for a week.

For me, a super boring old lady, packing into my car and driving 20 hours seems so fun and juvenile and something I missed out on.  That said, once you factor gas and hotels and blah blah blah....well, it might be cheaper just to hitch a ride on one of them big ole flying machines.

Either way, I have 4 months to scrimp and save and plan and get a boob lift should I end up in the middle of Mardi Gras with my shirt off.

God.  Goodtimes!

Dear Everyone

As I suffered through karmic vengence under the guise of pnuemonia I allowed my life to pass before me.  I pondered what I never accomplished in life.

I have NEVER knitted a hat for Gary.

TO THE CRAFT STORE!!

It's no surprise that I am pretty much the most amazing person ever.   Add the worlds greatest and most photogenic canine...well, let's just say that it's not hard to be inspired.

When you are as awesome as I am it's really hard to outdo yourself.   But here I am,  basking in my awesomeness.

Suck it, Karma.  I have somehow managed to earn myself the greatest dog ever.  True story.

In other equally exciting news...

Last night was the TCRGs season closer. Gahhh.....neck and neck all night.  Amazing.  Inspiring.  Wicked pot luck.  I can not WAIT to skate with these bad boys in the Spring.

Le Crap

I might be the worst hypochondriac ever.


I once sat in the ER for 8 hours because I was convinced I had a blood clot in my leg.  It was a Charlie horse.

I once went to the ER shortly after surgery CONVINCED they left a pair of scissors in my body.  It was just a bruised diaphragm.

On the other hand, when my water broke two months early with my daughter I thought I had just peed my pants.   Three hours later and strapped to a stretcher in an ambulance en route to a neo natal unit I was finally convinced I was having a baby.

Clearly I am showing pretty terrible judgement when it comes to my health so it shouldn't have come as any surprise that my polio/tb/cancer is actually pneumonia.

This would actually  be ok except I'm currently coughing up blood and I sound like a 12 year old boy.  The good news is that I am not contagious.  The bad new, depending on ones perspective is that I have a ton of derby stuff this weekend.  Tomorrow is derby derby derby and an afterparty.  Sunday is league practice.  Don't even get me started on Halloween preparations.  

Now, I would bet the farm that all of this is Karma.  A person can only be so shitty.  Universe, I'm so sorry I was terrible.  I take it all back.  I will be pure and good and I'll stop being a twat.  I'll be good to Conservatives and I'll no longer judge Capitalists.

Just please make me well by tomorrow.

Da Bomb

I think I could win an award for most productive procrastinator.

During one of my recent drawer purges I stumbled upon a few bathbombs that I made a few years back.   They were cute!  A nice orange colour, pleasant smell.  But...but...what if they were glittery AND PURPLE!!!  

The fall inspires me to be an artiste!!  And I do love my crafts.

After my recent failure with Gary's hat and matching leg warmers I was feeling a little discouraged.  I figured that some super cute glittery purple bath bombs would renew my  creativity and not only would I have a luxurious (and cheap) treat to soak out my perpetually sore muscles but might also help grease my brain and help me figure out what to do about a Halloween costume.

The bad news is that the only thing purple is my hands.  The good news is that my total inability to carefully calculate the amount of ingredients required has left me with enough crap to make about 15 more batches of these bad boys.

But at least they sparkle!

Gahhhhh  Fall.....how I love thee

Ugh. Minimums

For every awesome week there is one where I am so bloody discouraged.

I have viewed this whole derby thang as an entirely enjoyable, painful and rewarding experience.  I am in awe over how far I have come and the question of whether I would ever actually play is no longer hypothetical.  It's just a matter of when.

I might even be eyeballing these shorts....and trying out derby names for size....

BUT....I'm just not there yet.  And I am ok with that.  I am having a ridiculous amount of fun and I see major improvements every week.  That is all I need at this point,  I am not at all prepared to SCRIMMAGE for chrissakes.   It's not a pride thing.  I swear I am not against looking foolish.  I am sooooooo past that insecurity.  I'm just not ready to be graded.    So easy, I'm just going to skip the testing this time around.  By June I'll be at least on the splash pool.  No testing this time around.  Whew!  What a weight off my back.  I love being an assertive and confident woman!

Just kidding!

A 19-20 year old trainer with super cute long braids who I want to be besties with MY DAUGHTER said NO.  And I backed away slowly, feeling ashamed.

Look folks, I'm old.   I'm a mature(ish) rational (haha) adult and A TEENAGER just shot me down.

And I listened.

Sometimes it's hard to tell if I am gaining or losing control of my life.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Oh man.  Does this girl love her turkey dinner.

With the exception of derby and Thanksgiving dinner I am making this a complete ME weekend.  The past little while has been pretty hectic and with an Aunt not expected to make it into next week, the first set of derby minimums coming up in a week and the current renovations going on, well, you can imagine that the next little while is going to be filled with a lot of skating, family times/funeral as well coordinating the plumber and the framer.  So, the kids are gone and I am going to take full advantage of it.  Oktoberfesting can wait.

Me weekends are the best.  I can garden when I want, shower when I want.  I can eat chocolate in bed and unapologetically fish out the leftover nachos from my cleavage for breakfast.  I'm not certain but I do think that it might be just a little bit pathetic that I really really like smoking a bit of a doob, scraping glue from the stairs and singing at the top of my lungs.

Anyway, in the spirit of Thanksgiving and obsessive list making.......

What this broad is thankful for, in no particular order.(I'm not going to say my good looks, sparkling personality or children, that much is obvious)

I am thankful that I still have my parents.  As frustrating and dysfunctional as we all are...well, they are pretty swell.

I am thankful for my home and family unit.  I am finally realizing now that I have done a very good job and I can confidently say that it wasn't good luck...it was hard work.

I am thankful for my friends and sisters.  The amount of tolerance and patience and support they have provided me during an outrageously difficult time is more than I can ever imagine and this literally brings tears to my battered eyes.

I am thankful for my outrageous antics.  They may have bit me in the ass more than a few times but they sure have made things interesting.

I am thankful for someone who planted the roller derby seed in my head awhile back.  I am also very thankful for protective gear and the fact that I have managed to survive contact training.

I am thankful I have discovered Bliss cheese and even more thankful that it doesn't, in fact, cost $40.00.

I am thankful that I am capable of showing good sense from time to time.

I am thankful that I have masqueraded myself well enough that coworkers come to me for personal advice.  Thankful and terrified.

I am thankful that I have quit smoking and everyone survived.

But most of all, above all else, I am thankful I have discovered this

It's all just such cool cool stuff.

Fall Fall is here again!

It appears as thought I have survived all of my imaginary cancers, however, I'm fairly certain I have contracted tuberculosis.  It sucks cause I have the TB BUT it has made this quitting smoking garbage a lot easier.  I'm doing remarkably well.  I will be honest and say that there have been a few moments where I really wished my 11 year old smoked so I could bum one off of her but I think the worst is over.

And now I'm a non smoker, riddled with TB and there is so much to do before I die.  The good news is it's Fall which means HALLOWEEEEN and sweaters.

I have decided to make a list of things to do this month, assuming the Tuberks doesn't off me.

1).  Wear sweeeeeaters!!!

2).  Paint ball the shhizznit out of some zombies.  I feel as though a full on zombie smoking costume is in order.

3).  Make apple butter!

4).  Start knitting hats.

5).  Be fabulous.

6).  Design and execute a sweet Halloween costume.

7).  Finish ripping out the carpet.

8).  Pray my toenails start growing back.


It's a pretty lame list but I need to be super frugal.   The basement toilet is finally in and the adorable fellow who had the audacity to show up with a BEARD is about to wall it all off, making it private.  Thing is that it is going to take every.bit.of.restraint NOT to lose my shit and finish it RIGHT NOW.  But god...it is going to be awesome and if I am reeeeeaaaaaalllllyyyyy careful I can have it all done by March.  Now, apparently the stuff I'm using to remove the cat pee stained carpet (thanks Cecil, that was one hell of a legacy) contains some pretty amazing chemicals known to cause changes to DNA.  So, if I can huff enough of this I might totally get superpowers and I can use those powers for evil and steal a bunch of cash to finance this!  Thanks to DaveR for this piece of info.  On the other hand, there are carcinogenic ingredients so the cancer thing might be a bit of a buzz kill.

Now I just need to find a street kid to show me how to abuse solvents.

Poor people don't have cleaning ladies.

Now that Plan A-moving to a different city has been wiped off the table (what can I say, I have too much to live for) it's time to move to Plan B.

The Year of Living Frugally!

Here's the thing, my goal is to save 35% of my income as well as as much as possible for the girls uni.   Currently I'm at 22% and I can swing about 2 years for ONE degree.  

Le sigh.

The panic sets in and I juuuuuuuuust dooooooon't haaaaaaaaaaaave ennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnough.

Then I briefly look around and I'm reminded that's I'm a remarkable tool bag.

Seeing as I fancy myself a cautionary tale AND I love lists I have prepared  a jaw dropping list based ONLY on things I will actually admit to and took me exactly zero effort to come up with.  Shit that has been removed from my life as of now, requiring zero growing pains or real inconvenience.

Monthly garbage expenses.  Here it is.  Prepare to be ashamed on my behalf.

Cleaning lady $80.00

Starbucks.-I spend a fair amount of time at Starbucks, it does nothing for my wallet OR waistline 5 a week at 6 bucks a shot-$120.00

My phone-I don't need to spend $5 a month to block numbers I have already forgotten , or road side assistance  or CALL FORWARDING. bwhahhaha.  $36

Smoking.  This is not an easy venture.  But I'm ready this time.  Day two isn't easy but I'm here and I haven't punched anyone...ready for this figure....?  $236.48

Cheese -last month I spent $70.00.  I do love good cheese and as God as my witness I WILL NOT give it up cold.  But I'll cut it in half.  $35.00

Dawhinnie.  Oh man, this might hurt.  $150.00

Cosmetics.  Oh jesus.........

This is what I bought in the past 6 weeks.

This, dear friends, is over $400.00 in shit for my face.  Let me be clear, someone as gorgeous and radiant as me does NOT require all of this crap.   Oh T. Gary, your judgement hurts.

This is what  I ACTUALLY use.

It's hard to measure exactly how much I spend on my face.  I'll wager an average of $100.00 a month.




Anyway....I almost died when I added it all together.

Ready?

$9089.76 a year

And this is only a single snap shot

Let's just say that with some very moderate adjustments things are gonna start looking preeeeetty different and comfortable.

And I might just go ahead with ceramic tile for the basement.

Walk about here and there

After the untimely demise of my most recent love interest I did what any smart woman would do.  Fled to Toronto for Nuit Blanche.  

I'm actually surprised I have never gone before.  Such a great people show.  So much to look at and a tremendous energy.

But deadly serious.

But all good things must come to an end and here I am, riddled with spleen, testicular and brain cancer as well as polio.  Or, at the very least a really bad cold.  I'm praying for the Tom Yum fairy to come but she's no doubt ignoring me.  Woe is me.

Every cloud has a silver lining and this illness has really made quitting smoking tolerable.  Now that I have "graduated" to practising with the actual derby girls the constant stream of glorious nicotine infused glory smoke is not conducive to the 5 hours a week of training I have now committed to.  Plus, I really REALLY want to buy a set of hybrid wheels AND a sweet ZUCA bag for all of my gear so I have decided to reward myself, once smoke free for three whole months with this.  89 more days and it's mine!

That is if I survive this illness.

T. Gary B, Keeping it Real.

The fellow finishing up my basement sent me this pic last night.

I'm not totally deliusional, T. Gary is a GIGANTIC pain in the ass.  The poor guy was no doubt just trying to do his job while a 70 pound disaster kept bringing him more and more wood.  The caption on the photo was "Gary helping me bring wood"  Not "lock your fucking dog in your room next time I'm over"

I love my dog.  LOVE.   He is without question the best person I know.  He doesn't judge, he is who he is, loves who he is, wants to protect his family and is happy as long as he's fed and gets belly rubs.   This dog is literally EXACTLY the type of human being I want to be.

So, what happens when you invite someone into your life who isn't a "dog person"?  I don't mean someone who doesn't especially care for dogs but will make an exception for your dog.  I am talking someone who thinks it's outrageous for a dog to be on a bed.  Who is all "EEEWWWWWW" when my sweet little guy obsessively licks his feet.  Just has no real affection for him.   Not too long ago I had only two real deal breakers.  DUIs and Herpes.   I have sadly just discovered a third.

I think we all have our ideals when looking for a partner,  The key of course is not to wait around and hope that certain things will change, rather, we need to look at someone exactly as they are right now and assume that this is who they will always be.  Then ask ourselves if we are ok with that.   Dealbreaker.  He's gotta love dogs.

In a really strange way my heart broke a wee bit when my house doode sent me this picture.  Gary was being annoying but being a dog person he took the 2 seconds to snap a pic, give him a pet and later send me the picture.  Because he no doubt saw the value of that moment.  Because he recognized the value a dog can bring to your life.  I don't want to humanize Gary (that's total bullshit-I dress him up regularly) but inviting someone new into my life comes with personal sacrifice.  I think your "well rounded package deal boy" is pretty sweet.  I am always willing to compromise. We all have our baggage and bullshit.

But there is no fucking way I'm taking a chance on someone who thinks T. Gary should be locked in the basement at night time.

 

Desperately Seeking Moral Compass

First things first, WHY wont the interwebz/universe let me save my privacy settings on this bad boy.  I don't need the wooooorld to know all about my neurosis!
FUCK YOU, INTERNETS!


Anyway...today was just another gig at the FA's.   It is important to mention here that I miiiiiight have a bit of a crush him.   Super handsome, voice like butter wrapped in Reece's Pieces.  Just divine.  But I'm getting off topic.

I was at the FA's super pissed that I couldn't buy a new outfit so I could look totally hot....GAHH!!!!  That's not important!

Take Three.

I was at my FA's looking as good as I could in last months outfit, all together with my little black accordion folder ready to crunch out some numbers to get a clearer picture of the potential move or non move....ugh...forgot to colour my hair. sigh.

Anyway, we had a looksie.  Tres boring, blah blah blah and he said "is there ANYTHING else"  I flipped through it all and found it.   The owners manual to my washer and dryer.

Not really my washer and dryer.  You see, awhile back my actual washer died.  Boom.  Long story short, a brand new washer and dryer was purchased for me, well, for "us" I suppose.  But when he left the washer and dryer stayed.  Now, I need you to understand, I LOVED the woman who bought it for me (even though she has her cottage on an Indian Res) She was kind and pretty and warm and someone that for the most part,  I really respected.  An incredible fortitude and dignity about her that I can only dream of one day possessing and I'll be honest.....I feel like I have STOLEN from her.  She didn't buy it for me.  She bought it for her kid and really, it should have gone with him.

I honestly don't know what to do.

I cautiously explained the situation to Mr Handsome B Wonderful Please B Mine and he was all "wait, is this the same guy I strongly advised you TO NOT MOVE IN WITH"?   Chick boner gone as he quickly moved into Dad mode and I came clean and gave him the whole sordid story.

He thinks I'm silly to even consider repaying it but ya know what,  I'm ok with losing my self esteem and my dignity.  I'm not all that ok with compromising what little integrity might be left in my damaged little soul.

So, without any contact information HOW does someone repay this debt?   I feel as though it's impossible to actually give it TO her.  First of all, she may have forgotten already.  Secondly, I can't reach out cause she might spank me for being (rightfully so) mean to her kid.  Third, I'm actually trying to move AWAY from the crazy remorse I feel about shit.   Money to a food bank in her name?  The Humane Society?!

Jimminy Cricket!  Where the hell are you when I need you the most!?!  And while you're at it Jimminy, fix my goddamned privacy settings.

 

When God closes a door he sinks a glass ship.

Or something like that.

Closure is great, yes?  We don't always have the luxury of wrapping everything up in a shiny new ribbon and sending it off.  Often times it take awhile but once it's there...just a sigh of relief.

Years ago my sister told me that the opposite of love is indifference.  I didn't believe her until one day I looked at my ex husband and thought "Hey, remember when I loved him?  Crazy!"

Anyway, the other day an ex swung by to grab some stuff of his I found while clearing out the closets.  It struck me that my only thought was....How could I have been in love with someone with blond tips, a terrible tattoo* and who kinda resembles a washed up and bloated Justin Timberlake a la Dick in a Box?   Not that I am in any position to judge the appearance of others.  I haven't shaved in like, 2 weeks and it wouldn't kill me to cut out the chocolate.  I wont even get into my adult onset acne.  FUCK YOU PIMPLE FAIRY!!!!!

Nonetheless it is what it is and then it's not and I do feel fortunate that I was able to say some kind things to him that I meant.  Genuine words.  Afterall,  I AM glad that I met him and I AM glad that we spent some time together because I genuinely had some fun times.  He used to be a really good friend and,  in my own way, if I were to be totally honestly I might always love him in some way.

But that doesn't change the fact that I think he might be a terrible.  If not terrible just the complete opposite of who I would want to associate myself with.  Someone else's problem, so to speak.  Don't get me wrong.  I too am terrible.  Just in different ways.  I care about people and he unapologetically vacations on an Indian Reservation peppered with alcoholism and tragedy and a single school...where the children all enjoy the luxury of an eight grade education.   But what do know?  I can't even afford a tent!   That being said, this fucking guy is McGyver.  He has a vision for things that I actually think is a gift and I'm all "Hey, maybe putting this metal rod in the electrical outlet will help things"   He has an enormous amount of common sense where most days I don't know what side is up or down.  He can be tremendously rational and I could burn down my car during really bad moments of PMS.   He has never known a day of hard work where I feel as though I have crawled and climbed just to stay afloat.  My point is that in his way he's great and in my way I'm great and sometimes oil and vinegar mix well and make a sweet dressing.  However, sometimes it doesn't matter how much of this and that you find in the cupboards to add to it it'll only end up tasting like garbage.  It's best to just dump and start over.  He finds avocado oil and I find fig balsamic.   Case closed.  There's just no need to keep the shitty salad dressing in the back in the fridge.

Which brings me to the ACTUAL point of this post.  You know, because I actually have a lot of shit I have to accomplish before heading to Toronto this weekend.

Part of closure included blocking the boy from my phone and life, leaving it all on a positive note using the magical amazing-ness of a block feature.  Now that I have transformed myself into the financial wizard you see before you I decided that there was no WAY I was gonna drop $5.00 on only ONE person.

TO MY CONTACTS!!

I decided to go ahead and not only delete the past year and a half worth of dating history but to go ahead and BLOCK them for good measure.  I need to be clear.  Most of these fellows I long forgot about and there is no doubt the feeling is mutual.   But I had a lifetimes worth of closet garbage dumped out onto my floor that HAD TO BE ORGANIZED RIGHT NOW!!!  So naturally blocking totally irrelevant people from my phone was the pressing concern.

If you don't laugh you cry.

Here is a brief description of a few just to give you a clear idea of my escapades

1) 25, only ate chicken nuggets "You will cry when you see what I eat" was his fair warning.  I did.  I wept for humanity.

2) Gorgeous.  Gorgeous.  Gorgeous....thought the Geneva Convention was a place.

3) Penis looked like a cartoon character. I put glasses on it.  Didn't go over well.  I still laugh.

4) Had a non ironic moustache, 42 and taught spin classes.  Was looking for a "classy ladie"    I didn't notice the miss spell until 10 minutes before I had to leave to meet him.  When I told him I just didn't "feel it" he assured me he was really smart and wealthy.

5) Had a Japanese tattoo* which meant Strength.  A quick Google search brings up a tattoo that looks nothing like his tattoo.


Uhm yeah.  My bad.   I think I should become a professional cautionary tale.

Ah well.  On to much bigger and much better things.


*I have a terrible tattoo.  I am clearly projecting.