Sunday, December 9, 2012

Herry Kwanzannakahmas

If you were so inclined, you could go back to last year's blog right around this time and read all about my dark humor and Christmas cheerlessness. I was bah-humbugging all over the place. I only resorted to buying a tree and ornaments the week before Christmas because I was acutely aware that since my kids cohabit with me, it was pretty selfish to spread my moroseness all over their Christmas joy. Besides, I had no desire to go into the garage and haul out the enormous boxes holding our "big" tree and all the decorations. Some of the reasons were physical (I had just had back surgery a couple months before) but most were emotional: I didn't want to drag out reminders of archaic happier times as a whole family. So last year  I had to force-feed myself Christmas music, movies and decorations in a desperate attempt to regain the warm fuzzy feelings I used to have for this time of year.

All that Christmisery was because I was naive enough to get married in the month of my favorite holiday of all time.

Silly me, thinking that the joyous pairing of Christmas and Marriage would last. My advice to anyone right now is DO NOT GET MARRIED IN THE MONTH OF YOUR FAVORITE ANYTHING! If you are a football fan (in the United States), don't get married in September or January. If you are Irish (in the good ol' USofA), avoid nuptials in March. Love trees??? Then leave Arbor Day and April alone for God's sake (I don't think Americans even know this day exists). 

Were I to do this marriage thingy all over again, I would definitely pick a month that I hate to get married. Like August. August is my least liked month out of the whole calendar year. It's hot!  Unbearably so. And it's the end of summer. Face it, if you're a parent, by the time August rolls around, you're chomping at the bit for school to start. You cannot wait for August to be finished. Obviously for kids, well, the end of summer stinks for completely different reasons.  Either way August = blech and I just want it to be over with from, literally, day 1. August is like the month's equivalent to the week's Thursday. It's like this: July is all fireworks and watermelon, September is Football kickoff and back to school. Wednesday gets to be Hump Day and Friday is so awesome it even has God associated with it (TGIF). See? Thursday and August are just there, shlubbing along twiddling their thumbs in the chair in the corner while good times happen either before or after them.

Now I am actually feeling a little sorry for August and Thursday.


Ok, so my point is that my divorce kind of ruined Christmas for me for a couple years...more like three to be exact. But this year is different. This year I had all my decorations up by December 1st. Heck, my ex even helped haul out the decorations from the garage for me. I've been singing Christmas carols in the shower. Ok, maybe too much information there. Thing is, this is the first time since our divorce that I have felt happy in December. Yesterday would have been my anniversary and I wasn't depressed or angry. It was on my mind, but in the background. I went about my business, getting laundry done, going to the gym, watching movies and spending quiet time alone (the girls were at their dad's). This is the first time my anniversary hasn't spoiled my love of Christmas. This time...there is no force-feeding myself Christmas Cheer and I have resolved to spend each day enjoying the spirit of the season. I refuse to be time-warped into New Years by all the t.v. commercials and retail marketing (honestly, I am expecting to see Peeps and Cadbury Eggs in the aisles any day now). 

My kids and I made ornaments, we have cuddled on the couch enjoying fires in the fireplace and colored lights throughout our little home, and have enjoyed watching our favorite Christmas movie classics and discovering new ones. 

To me this is the greatest Christmas gift of all. It's not how much I spend or what I get, it's how I feel. To be happy and content with my girls, with my family. I couldn't ask for much more than that. 

Well, I mean, a winning Mega Millions ticket would be TOTALLY awesome. But all those millions still wouldn't be equal to what I feel in my heart and soul right now. 

So thanks God and little baby Jesus (and the Pagans...cmon, without them we wouldn't have yule logs or Christmas trees or December 25 as a day to celebrate) for all the wonderful joys of Christmastime. So. Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy Channukah, Blessed Winter Solstice and Merry December. That should cover it all, right?? 

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

You Really ARE What You Eat

About a month ago I was feeling pretty physically torn to bits. I am not quite sure how to explain it. It was a general feeling of just being filled head-to-toe with...crap. Like I was a walking burlap sack of ick. I felt mentally foggy, physically sluggish, jittery, anxious, body hurt (more than normal for a 44-year old woman) and I was just a blob of dull.

Kind of like I used to feel when I smoked; at least this time around I could breathe.

I had back surgery this time last year. The aftermath resulted in spending the better part of a year eating all wrong, giving in to my sugar addictions on a daily basis, drinking ONLY coffee and diet soda all day and eating out at least three times a week.  I lived the “I work, I have two kids, there’s no one at home to help share the cook/homework/referee tasks” lifestyle.  I had also lapsed into the ugly mindset that every time I worked out at the gym, I reinjured my back,  therefore I could no longer do the intense training that I was used to and that meant I wouldn't lose weight. And never mind hiking local canyons that I had been really enjoying. Up until very recently, walking a city block in a leisurely stroll would send me to the couch for the rest of the day.

On top of all that, I’m getting old(er), so my doctor put me on some regulatory medication (not that kind of regulatory, thank you very much) which has side effects of “water weight gain and acne.” Nice. NICE! It was like living my teen years all over again. Except with bad eyesight, joint aches and peeing a lot.

End result: my Fat Jeans I had folded up in a drawer “for camping purposes” were pulled out of the drawer in desperation one day. And they didn’t fit. I mean, they did. I could walk in them. And even sit. The zipper stayed up. Nothing busted, split or ripped. That's good, you know. Buuuuut.....yeah, I didn't expect it to be such a chore to get them on.

That sucked. SO. HARD.

I knew…I KNEW after surgery it was going to be a battle for me. I KNEW if I didn’t eat right, things were going to go wrong. Not right away, but slowly, surely, the bad eating habits built up and the depressive mindset creeped in, anchoring its roots right there on the smallest, darkest nodule of my brain where it grew and flourished in that dank spot under my skull. It said: “You cannot lose weight. You are doomed. You can’t work out anymore, what’s the point of eating healthy, nothing will get you back to where you were! Give up. Give in. You. Are. MINE. Getttttt faaaaaaaaatttttttt.”

So I did.

Oh that just depressed the hell out of me. It affected my new relationship with my boyfriend. It affected my moods. It affected everything about me so that my outside and my inside were well-matched. When I am physically active and fit (not skinny, mind you...I’ve never been skinny and that’s ok), I feel good about myself. When I am lethargic and overweight, lumpy, dumpy and couchy, I mope. And I feel about 30 pounds heavier than I really am, which is worse. I honestly was surprised to learn my weight had only sprouted about 10 pounds from the year before at a doctor's visit.

I hate to make this a thing about “my looks affect how I feel about myself”. But this is me. I don’t pretend to speak up for the world…I only speak for me. When I eat bad, sit around and balloon out, I don’t like myself. Period.

Health experts, both physical and mental, would, I am sure, extol the virtues of exercise and endorphins and how certain foods affect both our mind and body, etc., etc., etc. You know, without a PhD I cannot claim to make any educated statements about that stuff. All I can tell you is what I know about me from my own experience:

When I eat crap I feel like crap. When I eat well I feel well. When I am lazy I get depressed. When I am active I feel good and energized.

Really, I don’t think you need to be a neurophysicist (is that even SPELLED right?) to understand the ABCs of what I just said. This is stuff they teach in elementary school. So why is it such a big epiphany for me? For anyone? America is FILLED with obese people. Why and how do we let ourselves eat so badly? Why have our brains been conditioned to believe we need more, more, more and that processed foods and foods built on an assembly line are acceptable for living? I have FOR SO LONG been treating my body like a rusty bucket of bolts fueled with cheap gas and sludgy oil. It’s time, before I flippin’ die, to treat it like a Porsche. Ok. Ok. At least a Lexus.

So. Long story (sorry) short, I started Weight Watchers a month ago. It was exactly what I needed after months of saying I had to do something. It kickstarted my motivation and broke that depressive sit and eat mentality that had been doing pushups in my head. I have already lost 9 pounds. I finally can wrap my head around the eating right thing. I used to track EVERYSINGLECALORIEIPUTINMYMOUTH. Think that was hard to read?  Tracking every calorie is a lot of work!! I created a form that I filled out every single day with my caloric intake and expenditure. I lost weight, but I lost it slowly. And I had to work out REALLY hard to get that weight loss.

I now realize that the way I ate was ridiculous even then. I counted every calorie, but I didn’t focus on the TYPE of calories I ate. As long as it fit into my 1500 calorie a day quota, I didn’t care if I ate a donut or a candy bar or a hamburger. What I have learned in WW is that a 100 calorie pack of pretzels is metabolized differently by my body than a 100 calorie apple. Tracking WW points is exponentially simpler than adding/subtracting calories every day. I still have a 300 calorie minimum burn goal in my workouts, but I don’t obsess over what I burn throughout the day like I used to.

Today I eat more whole foods, lots of veggies and fruits. I drink a TON of water, I gave up diet soda a month ago, discontinued the “I Want to be a Fat Teenager” medication (those two factors alone might be a big part of my fast weight loss) and drastically reduced the refined sugar I eat.  I know how my sugar addiction goes and I feel like if I even put one M&M in my mouth it’s gonna be war. The good thing is I have substituted our nightly “dessert” with homemade all natural fruit-only smoothies. They are waaaaay better than ice-cream and my kids are feeling the benefits of healthier choices in their diets as well.

I have gotten back into the gym and I listen to my body. If I feel like what I am doing puts too much strain on my back, I ease off. The best thing is that because I am eating healthier and losing weight just by eating right, I don’t feel that obsessive urge to push myself past the edge of sanity at the gym. I worked SO flippin’ hard for such slow – albeit GREAT – results in the past, I made my body fall apart in the process.

So. Today is weigh-in day. I have steadily lost about 3 pounds a week. Last week was difficult, I found myself going slightly over my daily points on more than a few occasions, but I figured out that I wasn’t eating enough fruits and veggies during the day to keep me satisfied, so I was nibbling on WW boxed snacks and that is a red flag for me. Too close to that “get it quick at the vending machine” behavior. So I have stocked up at work on more of the good stuff. Which has the added benefit of having to get my butt out of my chair, walk to the kitchen and get my snack. Because I am eating healthier  I feel and see a difference in my skin and my hair. I feel lighter…not bloated.  These are the motivating factors that keep me going. I feel like I can actually lose weight and it can be achieved healthily and easily. (A mindset that losing weight is hard is a very difficult obstacle to overcome).  I have hope. I have my main goal and lots of little sub-goals to keep me working forward. I like the weekly meeting and weighing in and really like how my clothes are fitting again (some new pants I bought are actually falling off and those Fat Jeans are going back in the drawer thank you very much.

I have finally paired eating right and exercising and it is a very rewarding thing. 




I don’t feel like a soggy waffle anymore. I feel like….a Strawberry Smoothie. :)

Saturday, September 15, 2012

Instacrack Invasion!

Well. It's been a huge summer technologically speaking. First I go out and get myself a shiny new computer (from which I have already had a flippin' keyboard key pop off...Seriously Apple?????) and then my blackberry got stolen.

Let's have a moment of silence to say Thanks to the Good Lord Above. Halle-LUUUU-jah! *Gospel singing, dancing and clapping included!*

And I swear. I SWEAR, it really got stolen. Or lost. And not on purpose lost. Truly lost. It was just a happy coincidence. Really. 

Nice guy at my service store got me – FINALLY – into a shiny new droid phone. BOOYAH!!

So you know what that means. INSTAGRAM!!!

See, I'm a pretty artsy chick. I'm a graphic designer, a closet-costume designer, blogger and now thanks to Instagram, I have a way to share my other arty passion: photography.  I have taken various photo classes in the past: long, long ago in high school and junior college far, far away...back in the days when they had things called Dark Rooms and Film Strips. And you had to manually create your photos in said dark room and one usually took about 30 minutes to go through the whole strip/chemical/burn/chemical process.

Now we have stuff like Photoshop, which still actually requires some level of expertise if you want to really create a good artistic piece from an image, and Instagram, which requires very little of any kind of knowhow except an ability to press a few buttons.

*Side note. Let me just express, IMHO, that all the photoshopping in the world won't make up for true artistic talent with a camera. It's my job to process photos and I know for a fact there are photographers who think miracles can be achieved post-production. You know what? A crappy photo is a crappy photo no matter how much you fix levels, apply filters and healing-brush stuff out. Photoshop can be used to take an already great photo to create a great artsy photo, but I honestly miss the days where photography was a true art (thank you Ansel Adams). Today's technology has created a world of photogwanabees, perhaps me included. I'm not saying my photos herein are anything spectacular, they are fun with filters through a no-brainer app.  I am just trying to point out real photography is an art and a craft and not everyone with photoshop or Instagram is an artist or craftsman. Ok. Rant done. *

So, with that out of my head,  here are some examples of the photo-styling I've been up to lately. Yay or nay on my photographic ability, this is just for fun. I like my pictures. I guess that's good enough. 

(BTW, I wish I had made a note of the filters I used, but I didn't...oops)

Old barracks at Camp Roberts, CA
Taken during a trip to the PX on base. The place was deserted everywhere, but the old barracks area looked especially desolate. I love the weathered, tired, abandoned look. This place reeks of historic energy. I could just imagine generations of soldiers traipsing around.

Pioneer Heritage Museum, Paso Robles, CA
I love colored glass and I especially love bottles displayed like this. 

Girls and Their Castles
A December visit to Disneyland and Sleeping Beauty's Castle. No filter used on this. I love the colors. 

Souplantation Cookies
What can I say? It's dessert on a colorful plate with a harsh Instagram filter. 

Old Mazda
My car dealership regularly rotates classics. This was one I saw just this morning.

Summer Metaphor
My mom and dad's table out on their deck. Considering it has regularly been in the 100s temperature-wise, no one has used the outdoor dining in quite awhile. 

Gazing Ball
Again, I like the metaphor of this dusty old gazing ball and the sparse herb stalks behind it. I'm in that gazing ball if you look closely. 

Bougainvillea Getty Center
If you get a chance to visit the gardens at The Getty Center in Los Angeles, take advantage of the opportunity. Beautiful architecture, beautiful art, beautiful flora. 

Girls at Getty Villa
This is in the renovated "backyard" of the original Getty museum in Malibu, CA, which is now referred to as The Getty Villa.  They have created a greek amphitheater area in the back. The Villa is truly astounding, both in its architecture and it's art collection.

Old Bench
Back to Mom and Dad's yard. This is an old kiddie bench that has cracked and dried after years of sitting in the California weather. Considering the heat wave we've had lately, this is right in line with the other "dry and hot" photos I took in mom and dad's backyard. 

Halloween Party 2011
At my friend's fast-becoming legendary Halloween party in Lake Arrowhead, CA.  

New Firefox
I uploaded this because this perfectly captures the spirit of my parent's frickin' Chihuahua named Mocha. The only time I might get a good photo of her is if she's asleep. Otherwise it is a whirlwind opportunity.

Took this early morning shot of the Newport Beach, CA pier while getting some quiet time in before a scuba-diving trip over to Catalina, CA. 

I love irony. Thus, this photo of a hotel entrance in Old Quebec City, Quebec, Canada. What can I say, I have a naughty mind.

First Instagram Photo
My first attempt at using Instagram. I like it even though my kids hate it. Whatever. I like the retro feel. 

Daughter One
My sweet Samantha. 

Daughter Two
And my sweet Hayley.

My lovely addiction. 

Sun on Sun
A suncatcher globe in mom and dad's backyard. 

Perfect Instant
Aboard the USS Lane Victory in Long Beach, CA. I snapped this shot right at the moment a gust of wind picked up my daughter's hair. I had no idea what I had til I saw it later.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

The Art of Enigma

It has been an interesting summer.

Lots of sameness, and yet lots of changes. Or, maybe I should say that the other way around. There is a difference, you know.

I think the biggest change has been inside me. Perhaps "inside my brain" is a better way to put it, or perhaps "inside my soul" since on third thought "changes inside my brain" lends itself to ideas of cancerous growth, which isn't pleasant at all.

"Inside my soul" it shall be then.

I don't feel the urge to live my life openly here in my little blog world, or on Facebook. Not like I used to. Not in extreme details at least. (some people may argue, but (((I))) know the difference). My continued lack of need to purge in written form is proof of that. Here, at home in private journals…the ink is dry, the keyboard tappity-tap curiously silent. For someone who updated status every hour or so, put every photo online and didn't mind who knew what emotional drama was being succumbed to, I have certainly scaled back – or shied back – quite a bit. I find people who are extremely private an anomaly, their reticence and desire to stay out of the spotlight and not have anyone understand what is going on in their lives, brains and souls being on the verge of Martian to me.  Yet I have shifted my thinking and living to be less open-mouthed about my life and thoughts and feelings. I guess at some point I realized who really cares? Maybe I just got good and tired of saying the same thing over and over with different words. Emotions and the stories that go with them have been like accessories to me in the past few years. I remember the day I was on my last shoe-buying expedition and realized "I don't really need these, nor do I feel the need to buy them anyway." I did buy them anyway, yet the burning need to buy more shoes died off. It was a final, deep enough-is-enough. The splurging on such unnecessary frivolities (are frivolities EVER necessary, you may ask. Yes, I may answer) came to a halt. And, somewhere along the way, just like I have come to realize the junior looks in the department stores are just a (((bit))) too short and youthful for my age and body-type (oh. my. god.), I have come to understand mysteriouslessness (my word, I can use it if I like) in the voicing-ones-every-thought department is also oddly not age-appropriate. Yikes.

I do speak out, even lash out, when I need to open my mouth to get help or support for or vent about whatever it is I'm going through, but more often than not I keep my mouth shut and listen to others. Where I used to feel like it was my duty to speak up (or write out) and be the brave voice for those less able to express themselves ("if I can walk through it and survive so can you") I now wonder if what I have to say has any merit at all. No. That's not the right term. I think maybe it's more like, is what I have to say truly as Earth-shaking as I once believed it to be. The answer is resoundingly – and humbly (oh my) – nope.

It's a confusing time for me, this shift from sassy know-it-all wannastillbe girl to somewhat-quiet questioning woman. I don't think that I miss that brazen naiveté and I am trying to embrace this transition that seems to be happening without my prior consent as a part of finally growing up.

I'm still going through relationship issues, there's always that. I'm still going through financial issues. There's always that too, it seems. And my physical issues have not improved, but gotten worse actually. It's an odd juxtaposition of growth and depression that I'm not sure how to feel about. That's the other thing, I used to be pretty damned certain of what my feelings were when I felt them and now, well, I'm not certain of what I feel anymore, as if an Emotions Thesaurus has been dropped in my lap and there are a thousand words now to describe how I feel, instead of just a handful. I don't know what THAT's a sign of…is it that I am moving toward a less wildly-swinging state of emotional maturity (though this last week is very much a roller coaster but I won't bother you with details) or is it just 44-year-old hormones trying to trick me?  I feel like a boat on a quiet ocean with a storm off in the distance. Fairly peaceful – in a general are-you-seriously-trying-to-convince-yourself-of-that kind of way – but always aware of the reality of big waves hitting at any moment. But PEACEFUL. Sort of. In a slightly tremulous calm. My whole emotional being seems to be in a constant state of calm but at-the-ready. Like a still essence of stability.

Inside me is is a big huge blob of paradox.

There are things I still see about myself, like the fact that it seems I will always write with hyphens and run-ons in groups of threes and…oh, and ellipses. But that's superficial. What's underneath is less pithy. A quiet and steady turmoil that isn't like an explosion in any way, yet seems as though it could be. That whole boat/ocean/storm thing I mentioned above. It's a need for thinking positively while swatting away negative thoughts like little annoying wasps which I'm actually really afraid of but keep swish-swish-swishing regardless. And it's about seeing action clearly needed, being paralyzed by fear in taking the action, yet taking some sort of action anyway, even if it's in super small chunks, rather than a whole ocean-full of…action. Even if it's with my eyes squeezed shut and I'm scared and want to hide. It's about doing things that seem so easy for other people but aren't easy for me and trying not to peg myself as an oddball for having these feelings and thoughts. It's lying on the couch one day and getting busy the next because I HAVE to because if I don't Depression wins. It's about feeling awkward when I'm 44 years old and thinking "this shouldn't be happening at my age, but it is."

Terry Pratchett talks about second, third and fourth thoughts. I guess maybe I'm growing into the ability to think about the things I'm thinking about and then think about them again with a new perspective. I don't know. And if you don't know who Terry Pratchett is or what he writes about, well, then, you're more confused about what I said than I am.

Friday, July 13, 2012

Mommy's in the 21st Century

You would think as a graphic designer and blogger (even an occasional video blogger) and ultra-Facebooker that I would have some sweet home office tucked away, industrially cool, white/grey/black stuff, meshy chairs, clean, neat desk and lots of doodles magnetically tacked to my brushed metal wall decor.


I have an old (4 or 5's like 100 in dog years) computer that is so crammed full of crap and old op systems I gave up trying to work on it AGES ago. It sits on one of those plastic folding tables and doubles as a clean (sometimes dirty) clothes rack. And by "rack" I mean buried under crap I don't feel like hanging up/put in drawers. Besides, I should have held a memorial service the day I couldn't even drag work from a CD-ROM onto the desktop. Honestly, all it would take is for me to hack up a couple hundred to get it up to, dare I say "speed", but I work with CS5.5 which would cause my once glorious and shiny computer to scream like a little girl and explode. I am going to have it cleared out and add memory, etc., to it and then let my elementary school-age kids use it for school reports and Solitaire.

Besides, I don't even have internet at home.



(Is that your mocha chocca latte sprayed everywhere??)

I can hear you now: "What's this "not have internet" you speak of? Even homeless people have internet!!"

What can I say?? After the ex left, we had joint custody of our laptop for about 5 stinkin' minutes and then it was his. Blah blah. Whatever.

Without a working computer in the house and another income, I gave up on extras like internet. Besides, who needs it with smartphones these days? People with REALLY BAD EYESIGHT, that's who!

I think I have gone blind in the last three years trying to read my Facebook on my teeeeeensy Blackberry screen.

As for blogging, well, I attempted – as noted in previous entries – to try my hand with my iPad to type out some blogs. Not so great without the 100 dollar keyboard. Ugh. Stoopid touchscreen keys. Clearly my blogging I have only posted what, 1 flippin' blog in three months? Interestingly enough I have not had all of humanity clamoring at and picketing my doorstep demanding I come back to blogspot. Srsly? What the hell is wrong with you people anyway? *tsk #crossingarmsandlookingaway.


And, again, as I have ESP (or a very clear understanding of how very self-serving all this is), I know you are now thinking, "What's the point of this diatribe?" It's to say: "YAY!! I put my big girl panties on and bought a laptop all for myself!!"

*Smacks table with hand, by-gum.

I'm not giving details on make and model, though I have to say when I utter specific letters in succession, like "I" and "B" and "M" I gack a little involuntarily. Sometimes, even on purpose.

So, here I am, busting my new fruity laptop keyboard with this completely innocuous blog entry. The good news is I am really hoping this will get me to start writing regularly again.

Is it a curse, a blessing? Ah. You say tomato, I say tomato. Wait, what?

Awwwww, it's soooo nice to be back. I don't care what all you people running away are screaming about.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Nothing New Here

How sad is it to blog that nothing is going on?? Actually, I am so busy these days that maybe I should say too much is going on. I'm just one busy mom, juggling work, kids, single-life, commitments, health, name it.

I am grateful for the life I have been given. I seem to be on the upswing of the funk I was falling into last Christmas. It seemed all my coping skills were slipping away. Thankfully, I have learned to recognize the place I don't want to be back at, so took appropriate measures to get myself into shape. I have to say that all the pain and heartache, all the sorrow, all the difficult times that I have gone through in the last four years seem to finally showing how they've shaped me as a woman. I feel like I am standing up for myself more, have more confidence, more understanding of what is important and what is just fodder for someone else's sad journal. Or sad journey. Either way, I am too damned busy to get walked all over by the bad times. I take action today and don't worry about the future. And, when a moment of that familiar panic hits where I DO let "The Future" and all its What Ifs descend upon me, I remind myself of where I am right now, this moment, and that the fear is just that: Fear. It isn't real. The Fearful thing hasn't happened (and in my experience, most of the things I fear either never happen, or don't happen a fraction as bad as I imagined).

So, that's where I am at today. I hope to blog more interesting stuff than this in the future. I guess this little piece of fluff is my way of saying to the world I'm not dead! I still like to write! I just don't have time right now!

Friday, January 20, 2012

Sleeping With The Fishes

What would YOU do in a room like this?

My first thought, what an incredible place to have a romantic weekend getaway in!!

My second thought, wow, I could NOT get comfortable…you know…with…doing…you know, romantic weekend getaway stuff WITH THOUSANDS OF FISH STARING AT ME!

My third thought went something like this:

Imagine a conversation between two fish out of a thousand, staring at an…amorous…couple in an underwater glass bedroom:

Bobfish:    Hey, Joefish, we got another couple of weirdos down here! 

Joefish:    HOW in the ocean do they do that?? And why? It looks messy.

Bobfish:    And painful. Hey…* heh heh * …tap the glass… * heh heh* 

Joefish:    You MORON!! I told you last time: NO FINGERS!! You WERE the egg at the bottom of the bunch, weren't you...

Bobfish:    Ok, ok…c'mon…FWAP the glass with your tail. Cmon! It's FUNNY. Make 'em move...

Joefish:    They ARE moving...

Bobfish:    PLEEEEEEEEZE????

Joefish:    ohmigoldfish…Fine! *fwap fwap fwap*

(Humans fall off bed)

Bobfish:    Dude. That CRACKS me up…*swims in circles really really fast* C'mon…let's go find some rocks to spit...

end scene.

I must share my fourth thought, which was "to hell with the fish, what about scuba divers with cameras?"

My fifth thought, was:  How'd you like to wake up with a shark hovering over your head. "Oh, good morning Mr. Shark! Why, yes, I do smell like peanut butter and see, we had a food fight last night... What? You LIKE humans who taste of PB and J? Hey...why don't you go eat Bobfish...he's annoying as hell. By the way, how can you smell through plexiglass?"

I have weird thoughts. I know.

By the way, this is a room in the Maldives at the Conrad Maldives, Rangalli Island and costs a mere $11,700 a night. For that price you'd better believe I would throw every inhibition to the wind! I'd be all "cmON fish get an eyeful!!!" I'm a brazen hussy.

With weird thoughts.

So, in conclusion, I'd just like to say that as a scuba diver and a hopeless romantic, I'd find the underwater bedroom quite interesting both inside AND out :).

And, in final conclusion conclusion, as my friend pointed out, in some places, sleeping with the fishes has a whole different meaning.

Friday, January 6, 2012

Physically and Emotionally Bent

Well...the stresses of life have taken their toll on me. I have made no attempt to hide the fact that I have dealt with depression off and on in my life. I have seen various counselors at various times to cope with life's heavier burdens and it seems now is one of those times.

I seem to be losing my regular ability to cope with everything going on. My home is still in short sale, i still don't know when the bank will lower the boom on me but when they do I have to spring into action to find a place to live. Til then I just go on with living where I live in a kind of surreal limbo...not packed because I don't know how long I would have to live out of boxes... Not worried outwardly because what's the point? But its taking a toll on me, undoubtedly. That is becoming clearer and clearer to me.

Things at work are beyond stressful. I am on the radar and can only do my best by keeping my head down and working and trying not to make mistakes.

Plus I have had a spate of bad luck with physical issues so my normal routine (and stress reliever) of being active both outdoors and in the gym is hampered. I can't tell you exactly how or when but after my back surgery I became...more aware of my mortality. And more cautious in my existence each day. That's not a good frame of mind for loving life and spontaneity. I feel older than I really am for the first time in my life.

And, my ex, who historically blames me for all his problems, is harassing me to lower his child support payments. He pays very little as it is and I had it done through the court because he has always been a whiner about paying me money. Thing is he views it as "my money" and not his kids money. I pay for their health insurance, all their medical care, their school uniforms, their food, and eventually their after school care. If he wants to pursue it let him. I will let him stand in line at the courthouse, like I did for our divorce, let him fill out the paperwork and pay for the filing, like I did for our divorce, and sit in negotiations with all my paperwork and will abide by the court's decision. What he doesn't realize is that he may end up owing more money than he pays.

But I can only pray to God for strength and faith and courage and hope that counseling will give me an additional coping mechanism to deal with everything. Because I am constantly sick to my stomach and often on the verge of tears and I just feel so overwhelmed right now.

The good news is that I may be bent but I am not broken. Thanks to my friends, family and faith.