LOST
I tried to start packing today. I got my file box filed and some things taken off the wall but that's about it. The boys actually packed more than I did today. In all honesty I really don't want to do this. I can't say I have really enjoyed Orange County. It's been a true test in my single-motherhood - which has been good. I seriously fear I'm going to be an old maid before long if I keep this up. A friend of mine was telling me I should look into Texas and I wanted cry. The tears were welling up in my throat as I tried to calmly state that I didn't want to start all over again. I don't know what the difference is between Santa Monica and Texas. I don't have to look for a job if I go to Santa Monica. Texas would be more affordable. And safer. And less fashion conscious. Santa Monica is closer to mountains and canyons. Probably more people my age.
Can I just say this whole thing just sucks???? I want to go home. Can someone in Phoenix please call me up with the perfect job? I'm too old and lonely for this. I haven't met any girlfriends here and the men just aren't my type. I'm never going to have boobs or care how much is in their bank account as long as the bills are paid. I want to hang out with my sisters and drink with my friends. I'm tired of feeling lost and living for the day when I can live for me too.
I want to go home.
THE LAST OF THE AUSTRALIAN OBSESSION We all know how obsessive I am. And while the deed is done (or undone as the case may be) I have finally come up with a way to avoid any future frustrations if I ever find myself on a mountain top with an incredibly sexy man I HAVE to have. I've accused comic book movies of having stupid endings. I hate that X MEN II ends with Dr. Jean Gray (is that her name?) dying. How stupid is that? Why didn't the ice kid freeze the water and then the teleporter dude whisk her away into safety? (Yes, I'm sure Jim will quickly correct me and tell me she comes back to life later. If I read the comic books I would know this.)
This time I was the stupid one. Next time I will not let Mr. Irresistable drink the entire bottle of hard liquor. In order to prevent this I will have to drink more of it myself. This would make him less likely to hit on me by dragging me caveman-like closer to his bed while simultaneously wiping away my inhibitions of being openly naked when it's 20 degrees. (There's no way of getting around the fact that we're not both fitting in a mummy bag. Then again - we could have set the tent up.) We could have gotten around the fact that I was ragging by simply going down to the river and washing. Heaven forbid - that would have given us a little privacy as well. And the whole condom thing - well I did think I had some, I just didn't look. And I'm sure he had some too, he kind of mentioned it. There's really no way to get around the fact that I hadn't shaved for a week but somehow I don't think this is a big issue for a man whose entire wardrobe consists of two shirts and one pair of shorts.
There are things that I leave in my pack. A bottle of water. A bottle of aspirin. Chapstick. Condoms. Today I moved the condoms to a see-through pocket in my pack so that I will never again forget that I have them. I have added tampons to that very pocket. I am ready. According to the rules fo fate this means I will never again meet a fantastically charming and sexy man out on the open. I seriously doub that though since I'm wired so strangely that a man outside has a 90% chance of being irresistably sexy.
And that, my friends, is the last time I'll mention it.
THE BEST SANDWICH IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD As I was on the phone my children decided they were hungry and happily set about making themselves sandwiches. The older one made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The younger one (and usually the more needy one) decided to make tuna fish. He brought me the can and can opener which I quickly helped him with. When I got off the phone I walked into the kitchen in time to see him dumping the entire bowl onto a slice of bread. I was able to help put some of it back in the bowl, but I couldn't help but notice that while he indeed had added mayo he hadn't stirred it up. There were blobbs of mayo mixed in with his tuna. I smoothed it out a bit and gave it to him. Then being the selfish mom I am, used the remainder to make myself a sandwich. It had to be the best sandwich I've ever eaten.
My condolences to Jim. While we don't always jive hand in hand I can't help but truly appreciate the depth of his heart. Send him a hug if you get the chance.
IT'S FRIDAY!
I've had two beers, a mini bag of Cheetoas, and e-mailed an extremely hot Aussie I will probably never hear from again. But I don't have to drive to Santa Monica again until Monday so it's all good. Very good thanks to the two beers.
OPINIONS In my new life I've met a plethora of people. All of them are genuinely nice. However, the two that have an affect on what I do or how I do it have yet to let me be right when a clash of opinions has happened. This may be the number one reason I'm still single. I am so used to having things my way. In my last job I was the only one in the state that did what I did. People didn't care how I did it just as long as I got them the answer. At home I can usually persuade the boys that my way is the right way. If not - they can go to their room until they've stopped crying. But this requires real people skills. People skills I lack. But still - I would think they could at least throw me a bone every once in a while.
TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE I was born in a jail.
I got married at 17.
I have never smoked a cigarette.
Which one is the lie?
I find asian men extremely hot.
I had never drank alcohol before the age of 21.
I never balance my checkbook.
Which one is the lie?
I love my former company - the one that suddenly fired me.
I was married for time and all eternity in a mormon temple.
I miss being able to do homework with my children.
Which one is the lie?
Have you ever read something that was written very vaguely and thought the writer was specifically talking to you? I have. I've also made an ass out of myself taking such vagueness personally and then confronting the vague writer with my very unvague response. So if you're reading this and assume it's about you. Stop and think. I realize no one reads my blogs. It would be a really goofy way to try to have an important conversation.
You know the kids are having fun on a trip to Yosemite when:
You're 9 year old insists on hiking with the full grown men who do it every day
You're 9 year old thinks that "Yosemite" is read "Yo So Mighty"
The first night they have a chance to sleep in a bed you find your 7 year old asleep on the floor of the living room.
CAUGHT OFF-GUARD I find myself a mile above ground level directly above Yosemite Falls and the most spectacular valley in the country. I'm in the arms of a charming giant Australian who is fabulously and fleetingly available -for what other other kind of Australian can be found at the top of a mountain peak?- when who should come galloping up on a noble streed complete with background singers to save me in my awkward moment of unpreparedness? Aunt Flo! The nerve of that bitch! And does she even bother to bring party favors like the cool dude she stole the horse from? Of course not. I'm having a tampon grafted on as my sixth toe tomorrow.
