Been there, done that. Got the T-shirt.

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My time machine

I came back to see if you were all still here. And you ARE! And for some crazy reason ol’ Tweetface still has 581 followers. lol 

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Two years went by

And grief has subsided. Happy moments are the majority. You’re feeling good. You’re rocking your job. You have a sweetie. The kids are off doing adult things that don’t harm them or others. And then you get the call that your step Dad, who is more Dad than any dad, has terminal cancer of the pancreas and you need to sit down and bang your head against the wall. Bang. Bang. Bang.

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{insert whining about cold here}

fuck fuck fuck fuck I'm tired of this shitty winter

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What a place

I remember how all of you had my back when Jon was sick and passed. I keep up with most of you in that other place and it seems to me that it's a shame that Brad can't see your posts. It makes a soul feel warm inside to have so many great friends behind you. Maybe where ever he is he can read them.

Rest in peace, Brad. You are missed by so many.

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There isn't anyone to ask

Happily sifting through old photos on the big storage drive and click on a folder called photosfix and stumble upon a photo of your dead boyfriend standing in your kitchen with his pants down and his dick hanging out. I don't even know what to do with that.

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HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY!!!

THANKS A FUCKING TON!

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Tales

When I was 16 I had a man in power insist that I needed to sit in his lap. I refused but told no one.

When I was 18 I had a man follow me on public transit and whisper sick things in my ear to the point where I called 911. The police questioned how I was dressed.

When I was 19 a man tried to break into my basement apartment on my birthday. He tried to kick in my door and removed the screen from my window. The police said my curtains were too sheer.

When I was 25 a man that was supposed to be showing me a potential place to rent, attacked me. I managed to calmly convince him to release me. I went back to work and never called the police.

We learn to protect ourselves, not because we are fearful, but because we KNOW.

There's a hole in the bucket.

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Being me

I was out at a 50th birthday party for one of a bunch of women that I hang out with. She's 50 but her kids are 8 and 10.

I realized that I'm thankful for having had my kids in my 20s because being in my 50's is kind of relaxing. I don't look it, I don't act it, but I get the perks.

Lots of time to myself. The wisdom to avoid most of the office politics and the saavy to negotiate my way around having to work too hard.

I've made enough money to not have to worry and so I can go out if I like and stay home if I don't.

Now if my uterus would disappear in a puff of smoke I'd say life is not perfect (because Jon's not here) but it will do.

The 50's are ok with me.

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Therapy

Sometimes I exhaust myself by arguing with mouth breathers on Facebook. Facebook should make me pay for this... THAT'S how satisfying and cleansing it is.

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This getting old shit is getting old

So I had this really fun thing happen where I woke up at 5 am in a full panic attack. I think I can count on one finger how many panic attacks I've ever had... and I've been through some shit.

But apparently menopause does this. Drops your hormone levels and then freaks you the fuck out.

I did not like it. I did not like it one little bit.

So, alcohol is no longer my friend. Isn't that nice?

FML

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4? What in the crazy fuck?

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To His Mistress

My light thou art, without thy glorious sight

My eyes are darkened with eternal night;

My love, thou art my way, my life, my light.

Thou art my way, I wander if thou fly;

Thou art my light, if hid, how blind am I?

Thou art my life if thou withdraw'st, I die.

Thou art my life; if thou but turn away,

My life's a thousand deaths. Thou art my way;

Without thee, love, I travel not, but stray.

~Lord John Wilmot

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You know that thing...

where you're sitting in a meeting and you can HEAR the bitchiness in your voice when you respond to someone who is clearly not a strategic thinker and you think to yourself "Good god, cut the girl a break she can't help it. And stop sounding like a shrew!"

That.

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Ebola

Because being middle aged isn't fucking scary enough.

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Today is an anniversary of sorts. 11 years since I met this man. We dated before Jon. I actually left him for Jon. Life is weird. So is celebrating as if there was no break in time. Life is also confusing.

What do I do when things are confusing?

I cook. Wild blueberry waffles and home fries.

Happy Anniversary!

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Will you post a photo of Mojo with something else for size context? I need to see how teeny he is.

I did :)

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For Julie!