Wait… What happened to October?

It’s already October 25th. Just a week ago we were celebrating Princess Punk’s birthday. Right? WTF happened to the last few weeks? Have things really been that busy? I’m behind at work, behind at home and getting frantic about all the things I have yet to do before the end of the month. Which is less than a week away.

I can’t share my work list, I will just say I have 8 tons of work to do and I can’t haul more than about 2 tons in the next week.

Here’s my home list (at least what I can remember at the moment)

  1. Laundry… The Zen Master decided (after more than a few bitchy comments from me about his lack of folding my work clothes) that he was no longer doing anyone’s laundry but his own. Since I’ve been so busy/distracted/batshit crazy, I didn’t really notice. Untill neither the midget or myself had a single clean article of clothing. I don’t have that many clothes, but it just so happened to coincide with the bringing out of the cold weather stuff so it took me a little longer to become aware of the fact that the dirty laundry was piling up into a massive mountain in the basement. Because my dear Zen Master was still removing the dirty clothes from our room, he was just bringing them downstairs where I couldn’t see them. Out of sight… Which brings me to…
  2. Clothes. The Peach has, within the span of exactly one month, outgrown all the clothes I just bought her to start preschool. So I haver to now (after everything is washed) go through all her clothes and pull out the 4T’s I just bought (and those she had from the summer) and put them in a box for goodwill. I also have to go through my own clothes and pull out all the warm weather clothes and put them up for the winter so I have room in my drawers for all the clean clothes I will soon have. I’m hoping to get rid of some of my stuff too, I’ve gone a little thrift shop crazy over the past few years and I’ve accumulated more second-hand clothes than I really need. So I’ll pick out the nicest stuff and get rid of the rest.
  3. Cleaning. Yuck. Here’s the thing. My family, all of us, including myself, are slobs. Here’s the other thing. I don’t mind mess so much. But when things get dirty? I lose my shit. If you don’t know the difference between messy and dirty, you clearly do not have children. When there are toys in weird places because The Peach decided to play in close proximity to her sister or clothes on the floor because I was too lazy to go downstairs and get the only empty laundry basket, I get slightly annoyed, but I generally just let it go. When there is unidentifiable sticky stuff on my night table or the layer of dog hair on my bedroom rug is so thick I can’t figure out what color it’s supposed to be? Then I get upset. And when I clean, I CLEAN. Thoroughly. Ceiling to floor. Literally. I organize and dust and vacuum the cobwebs out of the corners and move furniture and wash everything down with antibacterial cleaner. My Mom cleans that way too. But I’ve been too busy and tired and My Mom? Well, She’s 68 with bad knees and she shouldn’t have to clean up after everyone else anyway. So we’ve been making do with Princess Punk and The Zen Master’s version of clean. Which is not clean. They pick up the mess (most of it) but there’s no dusting. They vacuum, but only the open spaces. They do the dishes, but don’t wash down the counters. So the house needs a thorough “Mom Clean.” Which I started this weekend, but now I’m wiped out and I my back hurts and I only managed to wash about half the clothes and clean most of my room. But hey, My rug is a really pretty shade of chocolate brown.
  4. Miscellaneous stuff… I have to write to Terry. I haven’t written to him in over 6 months and I feel horrible about it. I have to clean out the fridge. It’s gross. I have to change a few light bulbs and call the repair guy to get a quote on fixing the fridge and find a contractor to get a quote on replacing the doors (so at least we know how much we have to save up) and get the patio table out of the pond where it apparently blew last night. I’m pretty sure it’s beyond repair now. I have to call the plumber and see why they haven’t withdrawn their customary $100 out this month I’ve been paying on our $800 plumbing bill from ages ago. I have to call my TMJ doctor and make an appointment because I had to cancel the last 2. I have to call my PCP and schedule an annual exam for myself and one for The Peach. Oh and I think Princess Punk too. And The Zen Master is having a vasectomy next month and I have to make sure I have that time off so I can drive him home and hold frozen peas to his nether regions. I have to go grocery shopping. Oh… And even though it’s not exactly a necessity, I have to get my nails done. It’s the only thing I do for myself and I’m going on 4 weeks without a fill (UV gel cover over my own nails) and they’re starting to threaten to break.

So that’s only 4 things right? Ugh. I’m going back to bed.

Nope. The Peach is “hungwy” because it’s noon already. I slept late this morning (all the way until 6:30) so I guess that’s why my day’s gone by so fast. Right?

I need more caffeine. And Ritalin. And maybe some vodka?


Long time gone…

I’m still Alive!

Just… Busy. And experiencing a ridiculous bout of writer’s block.


Happy Halloween

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Channukah

Blessed Yule

Merry Christmas

Happy Kwanzaa

Happy New Year


Happy Birthday Peach!

My one and only New Year’s resolution is to get back to my blog. And that might mean me posting some brief and perhaps nonsensical posts because I’ll be trying to post just to get back in the habit of posting. Post. Post. Post… Now the word looks funny. I’m thinking that maybe just posting a little bit here and there might help me get back into a decent flow and break through this dammed writer’s block, one stone at a time. Like how I did that? Dammed? Stone?

Ugh. I need to practice writing again. Even my word play is sadly lacking.


Just Pros, no cons

Mount Mansfield

Mount Mansfield

It just doesn’t get better than this.

Stowe, VT

Stowe, VT

I am never leaving Vermont. Ever.

Random Cow

Random Cow

Driving me crazy… Oh. Wait.

Ok. So I’m already crazy.

I’m just incredibly irritated.

Because I finally have a working computer and a place to sit that has been deemed dont-you-ever-sit-there-or-put-your-sister-there-that-is-MY-space. And I’m having some weird sort of writer’s block. It’s not like i can’t write anything at all, I think I’ve posted more in the last 2 weeks than I did for the entire summer, but it’s that I’ve had all these fantastic posts bubbling around in my head and now I can’t seem to access them.

It’s like our pool. We have this lovely pool (that I personally never go in, but everybody else does) and it sits under two lovely trees. So there is constantly all manner of leaves and bugs and sticks and stuff in there that has to be skimmed out. Fine. But then The Peach decided that the skimmer was a really cool shovel and proceeded to (in the span of about 30 seconds while we weren’t looking) dig in the stones by the house and put several large holes in it. So you skim the pool, and everything just slips through the skimmer. Some stuff gets caught, but if you don’t grab it right away, the flow of the water pushes it right through one of those big Peach pits.

Which is where my brain is at right now. I have all these fantastic posts that are practically already written, but I keep dipping into the thought pool to skim them and they just quietly slip through the holes. And yeah, a couple get caught, but if I don’t get them written right away (like this past weekend), they stick briefly, then swish through. If I’m lucky I’ll get another shot if it swirls around again, but I think most of them just break down and get absorbed back into the larger thought flow.

Is there such thing as a thought pool vacuum?

Not Ready to Make Nice…

You’ve heard that song right? Dixie Chicks? Responding to the backlash they got from Natalie Maines saying she was ashamed George W. Bush was from Texas? I was listening to it the other day and it made me think about my (current lack of) relationship with my father.

Forgive, sounds good

I can do that. I want to do that.  I know that in his mind, it is my fault, and I sent him to jail and I know that he doesn’t forgive me for that, no matter how justified it was.

 Forget, I’m not sure I could.

Not a chance. A year later and I still wonder if I’ll ever be able to be alone with him without being absolutely terrified. I still have nightmares.

They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting

It will happen. And I am healing. Slowly.

I’m through with doubt
There’s nothing left for me to figure out

I know what happened. I have a vague idea why, at least on a long-term basis. He completely lost his shit. And I was screaming too, don’t get me wrong. But there is no doubt in my mind, or in anyone’s who was involved that he was wrong and no matter what I have apparently done to him throughout my life to make him so angry, so full of rage and hate that I knew that I was going to die that day, he still went so far over the line that he obliterated it completely.

 I’ve paid a price
And I’ll keep paying

Physically, mentally and emotionally. Even financially. And the fact remains that no matter what happens from this point on, even though he will always be my father, I lost my Daddy that day.

I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round

I’m not going to rethink this over and over again in my head.

 It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could

It will never be right. We may reconcile at some point, but what happened will always be there, hanging over our heads. The big, ugly, deformed, elephant in the room that neither of us will be able to talk about. And it should be there. I will not be safe, at least not emotionally if that elephant pokes its twisted, hairy trunk into anything we might be able to salvage.

‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should

I won’t apologize. I will not. Don’t get me wrong, I said some really nasty shit. But my apologies were cried into my pillow and screamed out in the middle of the night and aching in my hip and jaw and catching my eye with the floater that will always be there, hanging out in the lower left corner of my visual field.

I know you said
Can’t you just get over it

Honestly, I don’t know. He may not even give a shit. He may be relieved he doesn’t have to deal with me anymore. He may be vindicated that I still cry when I think about it (like now)

 It turned my whole world around
And I kind of like it

Things are better for us. I never realized how worried I was about My Mom until she came to live with us. How there was this constant, nagging worry that one day I would get a phone call that he had lost it, not with me, but with her. And he would have killed her. No question. I fought back. She couldn’t have, or wouldn’t have. We’re safe, a new kind of family, and even with the stress and logistics still being worked out, I do kind of like it.

I made my bed and I sleep like a baby
With no regrets and I don’t mind sayin’

Ok, I never slept like a baby. But now, despite the occasional persistent nightmare, getting fewer and farther in-between, I am sleeping better than I did. We’re safe now.

It’s a sad sad story when a mother will teach her
Daughter that she ought to hate a perfect stranger

He’s not a stranger, but he probably will be to The Peach. And Princess Punk still doesn’t know how she is supposed to feel about it. But I won’t teach them to hate him. They shouldn’t. He offered to take The Princess shopping for her birthday. When I told her that it was a possibility and asked her how she felt about it, she said, “Um… I don’t really know.” It wasn’t teenage apathy. She just doesn’t know.

And how in the world can the words that I said
Send somebody so over the edge
That they’d write me a letter
Sayin’ that I better shut up and sing
Or my life will be over

There was no letter. Just a rushing force that (quite literally) knocked me down.

I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should

I can bring myself to be his daughter. I love him. But I can’t bring myself to be the person I was. The person who always listened to him, and believed him when he told me I was fat. Or an idiot. Or worthless. Or a manipulative little bitch. Because I’m not. And I won’t see myself through his eyes anymore.

Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I’m not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting

A work in progress…

I am currently sitting in my room, at my desk, on my now working laptop.

It is SO nice to have an actual keyboard to type on.

But we’re still shifting. Trying to make this home fit us, to make this living situation work.

So here’s a (very) rough floor plan-

A General Idea

A General Idea

This is not working too well.

The Family Room has been completely taken over by Princess Punk. It’s gross, the couch (that came with the house) is busted and itchy and the carpet (the only one in the house) is disgusting. Here’s the thing… She’s completely taken over My Mom’s space too. They were supposed to share, but… Have you ever shared anything with a 14-year-old? And both of the girls have wormed their way into my bedroom and latched their sharp little claws into my own space.

The room where the hot tub is was supposed to be my private space. It isn’t. It’s full of spiders and is smells funny from the spa chemicals. It’s fine for the 20-30 minutes I need to soak the worst of my aches out, but as a place for me to just hang out? Nope.

So here’s the current plan… TV and PS3 will move into what is now the living room and will become the family room. The Playwoom (yes I spelled that right) will move into what is now the family room and Princess Punk will move her art space in there as well. It’s much more appropriate (and sanity-inducing) for siblings to share space rather than a teenager share a space with her grandmother.

I’m still working out where I want to be, but honestly, if I can keep the girls out of my bedroom and get a more comfortable desk and chair, I’m fine here. All I want is a comfortable place to write, play CandyCrush and watch Netflix.


Just a little furniture moving...

Just a little furniture moving…

So, a small change should make a big difference-
And The Zen Master? He has the majority of the basement. Not too worried about him. Although he might need a door. Don’t want another generation walking into his office while he’s viewing “questionable material” on his computer…

Good Things Come to…

Waited long enough for me hunh?

I can’t guarantee this post will make up for it, but I will (I hope) be posting a bit more frequently so I don’t go another 6 weeks with nada…


I’m awesome.

Since we last parted ways my dear blog, quite a few things have happened.

  • I turned 35… honestly, not a huge deal, but still, one of those birthday milestones.
  • I got a new(ish) car
  • The Zen Master got a new(ish) car… before you go thinking we won the lottery or something, after some serious number crunching, we discovered that, with our improved, all-grown-up-now credit scores, a car payment with a service plan on a newer car with better gas mileage (Civic for The Zen Master, Prius for me) will cost us the same as gas and repairs for his beater trick and my Subaru. Turns out, the gas mileage on the Prius is so good (50+mpg), I’m actually ahead a little bit. The Zen Master just replaced Bertha last weekend, so we’ve yet to see the benefit there. Since we have been paying an average of $100+ monthly on repairs and on a good day(when it was running at all) the beastly vehicle got about 8mpg, it’s a safe bet that he’ll at least be breaking even as well. Not to mention the “will it start today?” anxiety is done with. Oh, and we kept the Subaru (wouldn’t have been worth much on trade and my father “lost” the title) so now My Mom has a way to get around too.
  • The Peach is using the potty. When she feels like it. Mostly. Sporadically. Kinda… At least she doesn’t think it’s “gwose” anymore.
  • Princess Punk is a STAR. She graduated 8th grade. And got “The Presidential Award For Outstanding Academic Achievement.” This award is presented to (quoting from the US Department of Education) “students that show outstanding educational growth, improvement or commitment… It is meant to encourage and reward students who work hard and give their best effort in school, often in the face of special obstacles to their learning.” Because she is amazing. Even though she won’t get her ass out of bed right now. Oh yeah… She’s also probably going to make varsity soccer when school starts. She’s participating in an informal summer league with the high school team and a handful of middle school players. It’s being coached by the high school coach and he is impressed by her defensive skills. Although he has mentioned that she better start running more and get up her stamina. Princess Pink is stocky and muscular and she can run faster than most of the girls out there. For a very short distance. Which is great when she’s right by the goal and needs to beat the offense to the corner, but if she has to bring the ball up the field, she slows down fast. The girls move the ball up and down the field a lot more in high school, she’s gone have to put in some work to keep up. She can do it, but she is being particularly grumpy and lazy about it at the moment. The team is going to start running in a week or 2, 2 miles, twice a week. That ought to get her going. Note if she would just get going this morning… Oh look! Zombie Teen just walked into my room… Oh. And flopped onto MY bed. That’s not helpful.
  • I am awesome at my job. New trainees LUUUURVE me. And I’m totally loving being a competent trainer.
  • I have a new friend! I’m going to have to come up with a suitable blog name for her. One of the noobs at work, we hit it off right away and are hanging out (like actually outside of work hanging out) on a regular basis. She’s weird. And awesome. And perverted. Just like me. SWEET!

So anyway… laptop is still not fixed. I’m writing this on my kindle, still better than from my phone, but still a pain in the arse.

I’m hoping to be able to post more often… I miss you Blog.

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