Saturday, March 20, 2004

Sweet Somethings

XXXX is so sweet. He called me moments after I got home today. Made me smile.
Never In Your Own Bed

At 4 am this morning, while I was finishing up the dress. Super Girl came out of her room, down the stairs and told me she was sick and had thrown up. I told her to wake her daddy!

Today when speaking to K, he tells me that both girls ended up sleeping in his bed as Super Girl did in fact throw up - in her sister's bed! I started laughing so hard. I never thought of that one when I was a kid.
What A Fucking Whirl-Wind

Whew. I finished. I'm done. Well with MOST of it. A few minor details to take care of, but the majority of the costume is FINISHED. And in time. I stayed up until 4:30 am this morning finishing it. I can not believe the shit I've had to do to get this done. It's beautiful. I should have made her take a photo in it. I will later. I had to remake a major part of it and that pissed me off, that took too damn long. My ancient sewing machine is acting temperamental. I'm hoping it's just a phase - I still need to make a dress for Cabbage Patch to wear - I'll stick with any of my dresses I already have for now... Too bad though... I have some of the most beautiful fabric to make a dress with and it just pains me that I haven't used it yet.

I worked this morning I was up and out of the bed by about 7:15 am. Yes, really. I worked until 2:30 pm. I think I'll go nap now. I desperately need sleep. The good thing is that I made pretty good sales today and I stayed really busy so I didn't have any time to FEEL tired. Thank G*d for sugar and caffeine! I'd be a puddle right now if I didn't have that.

Friday, March 19, 2004

Things That Piss Me Off (today)

People who go out of their way to make other people's lives difficult.
People who think those who ask questions are idiots.
People who think they are smarter than EVERYONE else.
People who intentionally sabotage things for others.
People with a grudge.
People who still think high school popularity games are appropriate even though they have been out of high school for decades.
People who refuse to admit they are wrong.
People who do all this shit and it makes more work for me.

Thursday, March 18, 2004


I'm in a mood to write today. I wish I was in a mood to do laundry or clean or paint or sew not write. I need to be doing all of those, not this. But THIS is what I'm in a mood to do. Silly me...

I Wish

I wish I'd told him one more time
I wish I'd looked him in the eye
I wish I'd held him close to me
I wish I'd whispered softly "I love you"
I wish he'd heard it in my arms
Next time, next time
I'll say it yet again
I'll look him in they eye as
I hold him close to me
Whisper softly "I love you'
As he lingers in my arms

I wish I'd held her one more time
I wish I'd felt her soft fur
I wish I'd heard her purr again
as she snuggled next to me
I wish I had trusted my gut that day
Next time, next time
Never came
Another cat to cuddle close
Another meow to wake me
Her purr is not the same
If only I had trusted my gut that day
I could have heard her purr again
So many tears for one little cat

I wish I'd held her hand once more
And made her laugh yet again
I wish I'd listened a little better
To memorize her every word
And captured her laughter in my head
I wish she wouldn't have lingered on
I wish for just one more good day
To share with laughter and play
How sad that she had to go
She was to young to leave for good
I was to young to say good bye mother.

I wish I'd smelled her little head
And held her tiny self one more time
I wish you'd slept so peacefully next to me
so I could breath in your baby scent yet again
I wish your chubby little legs
didn't grow long and tall so quick
I wish I could hear your funny baby laugh yet again
I love the little girl you are now
I just wish I could have one more baby kiss before you grow up

I wish I cold stop time
I'd hold him close and whisper "I love you"s
I'd stroke her fur and hear her purr
I'd make her laugh until she cried
I'd kiss that baby while she giggled

I close my eyes and make that wish
Then let it all go, it's time to move on
I'll hold him when I see him and hope he hears "I love you" from me
I'll take my little girl's hand and laugh
We'll plant seeds and hope for flowers very soon.

Wishes turn to hope
My sadness turns to smiles.
Visible Panty Lines

I was recently reading through a new magazine (new to me that is) and saw an article on panties, a three page article on panties and panty line. I could only read through less than half of it before I had the overwhelming urge to stick my finger down my throat and purge myself of the entire experience. But of course it's never that easy. The basic premise of the article is how panty lines are an absolute death sentence and wearing 'granny panties' is the most offensive thing one can do. I also gleaned from the article that anything NOT a thong is pretty much considered to be a 'granny panty'. I flipped to the end of the article (on my way to the next article) and saw a colorful and well put together chart of types of panties, how bad of a panty line they would cause and when it was appropriate to wear each. What The Fuck? The only people who seem to care about Visible Panty Lines (VPL) are women and quite frankly I don't dress for women. I don't give a flip if another woman sees my panty lines, bra strap or a run in my stockings. Men don't care about panty lines, if they are looking at an ass carefully enough to see panty lines, they generally are looking for reasons that have nothing to do with fashion (and those who are looking for fashion, well I'm just not interested in). I never consider VPL when I put on my panties, ever. Usually I consider if they match the bra and outfit, what I'm going to be wearing (skirt or pants) and what I'm going to be doing (movie or booty call). The most often thought out question in my mind while searching through my undie drawer is "Hmmm... Panties or no panties? I wonder if he'd like satin bikini, a thong or just nothing at all?" Never whether I have a panty line. Ever. Maybe I'm just out of the loop. If a woman is obsessing over her VPL I think maybe she doesn't have enough to do.

Wednesday, March 17, 2004

It's A Million Laughs Here

The little people have been in bed for quite a while. I just now went into my bath. As I walk in I see a toothbrush on the floor near the tub. It's a new toothbrush that earlier today had been in the kitchen on a counter in it's pristine packaging. I think "ah... Someone's been practicing their dental hygiene, that's okay," and pick up the toothbrush. I'm in the bath for a few minutes when I notice something sitting on the tub - a tube to be exact. I think "hmmm... I don't remember buying a new tube of toothpaste," and reach to fetch it off the tub. Then I realize what it is and start laughing.

One of my darling children was brushing their teeth with some lube! HAHAHAHAHAHA! (thank goodness it was a brand new, unopened, still in the box tube of lube though).

I think this makes me a bad mommy for laughing...

*Note* this is not my usual brand of lube - I usually stick with Astroglide, this tube was accidentally left by a house guest.
You are guided by the wind. You obey your impulses.
You are the kind of person that is always comng
up with ideas that would be fun, yet somewhat
destructive. (Rate my test)

What force is your soul?
brought to you by Quizilla

funny... I figured I'd be fire.
How Does A 2 Year Old Win At Jenga?

Don't ask how or why, the answer is the same... she's 2.

(and yes there WAS milk in the carton when she did this *sigh* I think I need to explain the rules to her again, I don't remember the "Put all the blocks in a carton of milk while mommy is in the potty" rule...)


Tuesday, March 16, 2004

And Now For Something completely Different...

That last post was down right depressing! Yikes! I thought I'd share an e-mail I sent a friend about dinner I made last night.

Mine fine... I made dinner... Roast, salad and mashed potatoes and gravy. Sounds good right? Well it was HORRIBLE! HAHAHA! So I make the potatoes - instant potatoes because I absolutely hate peeling potatoes, I mean if I was ever stuck in a Turkish prison, peeling potatoes would be the perfect torture for me. I just hate it. My mother made mashed potatoes for my former stepfather every fucking night so I always had to peel potatoes. Not that it matters, I'm not a big fan of mashed potatoes anyway, I like the ones made at KFC best though with their gravy, but I prefer rice and gravy over potatoes and gravy any day... Oh where was I? Ah yeah, instant potatoes... So I'm making the potatoes and I put too much salt in - but I'm not totally sure it's too much, I think it is, but then in a moment of laziness I don't restart what I was doing and I go ahead and commit most of my potato flakes. After tasting the finished product I realize they are WAY to salty and make the remaining potatoes to kind of even out the salt (this is one BIG advantage to making mashed potatoes from instant... I'd have had to suffer with the REALLY-REALLY salty potatoes if not for the instant flakes...Which really didn't really matter anyway.... Keep reading) - this works some, still salty, but not inedible. I stir this all up as I microwave the gravy - yes yes I do make instant gravy also. I like it. My mom NEVER made instant brown gravy so it's like a delicacy to me. I hated my mom's gravy also, but I hated most of her cooking... That's why I learned to cook anyway, so I wouldn't have to eat her food. Oh yeah, back to the gravy, so I use the meat drippings to make the gravy - done it before and it's always been really good. I make everyone's plate then my own. The roast was cooked a little over done for my taste, but hey I like it pretty rare - it was still good. I sat down to eat and tasted the potatoes and gravy. The gravy was so freaking salty and with a combination of the salty potatoes it was completely inedible. Completely. I had lots of gravy on my plate as I like the gravy more than the potatoes. I also like gravy on my roast... So my roast was way to salty. I don't even know how that happened other than some sick sort of karmic balancing. The salad was good though... Hard to screw up a salad from a bag and salad dressing out of a bottle though... Yeah. AND to make things EVEN better... This is just the icing on the cake. Kent came home with a horrible sinus headache... These generally move to awful migraines. Part way through dinner he starts feeling nauseasous! He says from the headache, but hell I wouldn't have blamed him for if he had said it was the food! And the little ones... they ate all of their food. All of it. I make a tasty dinner and they pick at it, I over salt everything and they devour it. Just had to share, it was all so damn comical. Some days I feel like my life needs a laugh-track.
More About Me Than You Care To Know!

Sometimes I have to ask myself why I make things so damn difficult. In a conversation with XXXX yesterday I got very sarcastic. This he did not like, granted the sarcasm was directed at me it did indirectly make him seem to be a bad guy, which he most definitely is not. He told me it was hurtful. He was right. I felt bad for having said what I said and apologized. Then XXXX put me on the spot and asked why I got sarcastic and hurtful. The tears started immediately. I said that it was just how I grew up, everyone being sarcastic. I couldn’t give him an answer right away. I had to think (and cry). Why do I get sarcastic? Fear. Fear of rejection. Make sense? No? Well didn’t really to me either until I thought about it more – it all became really clear later last night (long after the uncomfortable conversation ended). I was able to tell XXXX that yesterday though, fear of rejection. It’s my safety mechanism when I think someone is going to reject me or leave me, I get sarcastic to try to lessen the blow. He pointed out that it really doesn’t work, which is true, but I convinced myself over the years it does.

If you’re curious about my psyche, keep reading – here’s a little family history. I was always a shy, sensitive kid – I think I got it from my father, the sensitive part – now I look at my youngest, Cabbage Patch, and I see that she’s very sensitive, thankfully not shy but a little on the sensitive side (what a pain I must have been to my mother). My parents divorced when I was 6. I took it very hard, took it very personally and was very hurt by it. I didn’t see my father for many, many years – but that’s a story for a different day. My mother made the horrible decision to move us (me and my sister) in with her mother, our grandmother. My grandmother is not a sympathetic woman, nor is she an understanding woman. Empathetic, kind, giving or sweet are also words not used to describe her. What she is mostly is tyrannical, selfish, manipulative, paranoid, pompous and a cruel dictator. Or at least she was. She’s changed over the years. At any rate, the decision to move us from the stability and love of our father to the instability (and I mean that in ALL ways possible), poverty and emotional abandonment of my grandmother was a fool hardy and idiotic one. One that we (my sister and I) would pay for. My sister and I learned quickly that we were at the very bottom of the list of priorities. Truly. The cats were considered well before we were. I remember a time when we got to watch the cats have dinner while our bellies were growling. No money to feed us, but let’s not make the precious little kitties suffer. This was (is) my grandmother’s mentality. The comfort of her furry beasts came well before the comfort of her own flesh and blood. A hard lesson and mean lesson for a child to learn. The next year was the year I was injured in a car accident due to my uncle’s blind anger and idiocy. This left me with scars. Years later I discovered that instead of my grandmother, my aunt and my mother being overly concerned about the child who had nearly died, they were more worried about concocting a story to cover for my uncle. They were more worried that my uncle would be at fault for the accident! Good L*ord! He WAS at fault! As I said I found this out later – it’s amazing what one can learn from an old police accident report and from talking to one of the police officers who responded to the call. Anyway, when I went back to school I was shunned by the other kids because I had scars on my face. My sister who was always protective of me, became even more so, thus making her also more of an outcast than we had previously been. My grandmother extended no sympathy to me and even went so far as to attempt to cover my scars in an attempt to alleviate her embarrassment of me not being perfect in yet another way. What did I learn? I learned now that love and acceptance was conditional. My conditions were that I be pretty (like my sister), thin (like my sister) and smart (like my sister). I was constantly reminded that I was NOT like my sister and was therefore inferior and not worthy of their love or attention. This was quite painful. I never hated my sister for it, I just wanted to be like her. I cried at night to look normal and to have my daddy – he always loved me. (Note* I realized later in life that my sister had it just as hard as I did and they rode her just as much as they did me). If I was upset because kids teased me at school I was told not to wear my heart on my sleeve and get over it (mean, but in retrospect it did help me make it through the tough times), if I cried for my daddy I was told that he was a son-of-a-bitch and to shut the hell up. If I cried for my mother (who was hardly ever there) I was told to shut the fuck up and stop being a baby. That was life. No one was allowed to have any kind of sad feelings except the adults. No one was allowed to cry. Our hurt feelings were never to be acknowledged as they did not matter. Even our happiness was orchestrated and measured. If we were too happy then someone was sure to change that. The only time I was ever happy was when I was with just my sister – which was a lot since we were latch key kids by then. But our happiness was cautious at best. We lived with the knowledge that whenever the adults returned our life would return to the abuse and neglect we were used to. Depending on the mood of the adults we would either be chastised for something, beaten or told to be quiet and go play. In our house children were to be seen and not heard – actually children were not really even to be seen unless it would benefit the adults somehow, otherwise we were to stay the fuck out of sight, shut the fuck up and don’t make a fucking mess. We got used to it. No one cared what we felt so best not to feel it. No one cared what we said so best to stay quiet. No one wanted to see us so best to not be there. We played outside as much as we possibly could because it meant there was little chance of accidentally enraging the adults and bringing down the wrath of our grandmother upon us. We learned to not trust the adults. Their moods were fickle and quick changing.

When I was 9 my mother hooked up with who would become out step-father. He seemed nice enough, but I didn’t trust him too much, he was an adult after all. He turned out to be not so bad. (later he did something that forever damaged the small amount of trust I did have in him – but that’s another story) His moods were not as volatile as everyone else’s and he seemed genuinely concerned with our happiness. And for all of his short comings he was. He tried harder than anyone else to make us happy and to let us be kids. He let us talk and played games with us. He actually valued us. This was new. And best of all he took us from grandmother and the other adults. Mother became a bit of a different person, oh deep down she was still the same, but since she wasn’t constantly the target of her own mother she was much eaiser to be around. We never had an easy life, poverty was always nipping at our toes, but things were better without grandmother around. About this same time that mother hooked up with her soon to be husband, my aunt hooked up with her future husband. He frightened me, almost more than grandmother. He was gruff and loud and swore a lot. He was also extremely sarcastic and caustic. A compliment was always somehow an insult. My soon to be step-father was also sarcastic though not as harshly as my future uncle. I learned from them. They still insulted me and ran me down, something which I wasn’t supposed to defend myself about – except if done with sarcasm. Sarcasm was my saving grace. I was allowed to banter with the hateful adults if I was being sarcastic. That was considered cute and witty. Sarcasm became my shield from their mean comments. Not that their barbs and insults didn’t hurt because they still stung, I could at least now deflect the damage and maybe, just maybe inflict a bit back to them. For some reason these morons respected that.

As I grew up I held on to that sarcasm. I used it when ever I felt threatened. I used it when ever anyone got to close to me – we moved a lot, it was easier to be sarcastic and funny than to let people know it hurt to say good bye. Things were never permanent in my life – that was one of the few things I could count on, nothing is permanent, no one stuck around and I had to be responsible for myself (my sister was gone by now – I was hoofing it alone). So the sarcasm is what I had to help me through. Not a great way to cope but that’s all I had ever learned.

Counseling later in life helped with learning to be happy (I am a pretty damn happy person, albeit a bit paranoid, obsessive and skeptical, but very happy and optimistic for the most part).

Fast forward to now. I have a great guy as a lover. XXXX is absolutely wonderful. And that scares me. I have a lot of feelings for him. And that scares me. I love the man. And that terrifies me. Why? Because life is just not certain, the future is unsure, nothing is stationary… Okay, really? I worry that it won’t last, that he doesn’t love me, that he’ll find someone better that he likes more than me, that I’m not pretty enough or smart enough for him, that I’m not good enough, that I don’t deserve this euphoric feeling I get when I’m with him, that he’ll find out something about me and run like hell, that it’s all a dream and I’ll wake. Has he done anything to make me doubt his feelings or interest? No, quite the contrary. So why was I so damn sarcastic yesterday? Why did I say things to hurt him? I must have no social skills. I am so much trouble for this man, I honestly wouldn’t not blame him for calling things off – I don’t want him to, but I don’t know that I’d blame him.

So anyway, he doesn’t like my sarcasm and quite frankly after realizing how biting it really is, I’m not all that fond of it either. I need to work on stopping it. That and not being so paranoid with XXXX. Gotta take things one day at a time. Sigh

And that concludes the tour of Judy’s psyche, tune in next time when we explore her relationship with her mother and how that colors her own views of motherhood.

Monday, March 15, 2004

Sew Good!

I am back! I have finished part (most) of my sister's ren costume. I'm quite pleased with the outcome. It's a fabulous dress. Take a look:

It's a work of satin and silk. I still have the sleeves to complete and a few other things to tweek on it. I'll post more pics when it's all complete.

I'm hoping I can complete at least one more costume for her before the deadline (which is in two weeks) - so I may not be on much. Also I need to make a dress for Cabbage Patch to wear to my cousin's wedding on the 24th - Super Girl has a lovely pink satin dress so I need something to match or coordinate (yes I do match/coordinate my kids on a regular basis - they can hate me for it later). Going to be a busy time for me. As I also want to make a new dress for myself to wear! (I just need some new sexy clothes thats all).

Must go now. My house is desperatly in need of a good cleaning and de-crapping.