Isolation: Update

I have a migrane the size of my brother's ego...I just took another Excedrin. I have tried a hot bath, peppermint oil, a round of Excedrin, ibuprofin, an orgasm; and finally, one more Excedrin. I couln't find any rain the forecast, no dramatic weather change. Upon closer examination, I was able to find my arch-enemy, the old cold front is sitting on top of my house, and not budging. Why can't this cold front go somewhere else? It's not making any fabulous storms and producing a Kiss-concert-style light show, it's not even dropping temperatures. That SOB is merely sitting above me making my head hurt. I am out of weaponry, and my day was a complete wash. A total waste, imperfectly absolute in its nothing-ness. I won't even have another chance until....well, I don't know when. It will still get counted as "my day", though since my hub watched the kids. All I managed to do was clean the two upstairs bathrooms, and ruin my knitting project.

The Circle of Isolation

Damn. So, my husband is headed out tomorrow for the first day of turkey season. Gobble, gobble, he's all excited. Oh! And I got some major sleep. Woohoo! After a slight bump in the road with some crazy medicine, I recommited myself to Ambien (CR, this time) and I have had more sleep in the past 24 than I have had in years.
Anyway, I wake up, and the husband has scrubbed the downstairs to a beautiful shade of cleanliness. I woke up at 10:30, slept uber late, and it's "my day". My day always brings an argument, and today was no exception. Why would a SAHM feel so shitty about having a day to herself? What would she possibly have to argue about? I'll tell you. I hate "my day", because it's merely his compensation of guilt for "his day". So, I get this "day to myself", but having been an isolated SAHM for so long, I have no way to use it. I really don't have friends anymore. Cindy is in China peering over the Great Wall, and Ang is always somewhere doing something.....this leaves me, at best, wandering around a public place by myself. Not my idea of a good time. Eventually, someone will call security.
I have tried to meet new people, but with almost no success. I even placed an ad on Craigslist. I got a couple of viable prospects, but one lives in IL, and the other is about as busy as I, and 20 miles away. Fuck me, I've barely had the free time to email them back. So, I colored my hair, painted my toenails, and I am about to knit. I finally heard back from two friends- one is knee-deep in computer issues, and I didn't even get to ask, and it looks like Ang and I might have dinner at Lemongrass tonight. I guess we'll see, she's supposed to be here at 5:30.

Denial

...as Martha would say, "It's a good thing." I may have mentioned earlier- much earlier- in my blog that I have been diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. This usually strikes white, thirty-something workaholics. Or, so I read somewhere....no idea where...

Anyway, I generally live my life in utter denial of this diagnosis. It's a BS diagnosis. I am sure I am lacking some essential minute mineral, or trace element, but CFS sounds better from a doc's point of view, than "We have no idea." I will not give into this role, because it's not something like cancer or cystic fibrosis. I'm just literally "fatigued". Not really something to whine about. Except today. My personal complicating factor is insomnia. Haven't gotten many good nights of sleep in the last four years. Generally, I just get up and move on. But, I have been without sleep meds for almost eight months, and I just cannot go anymore. Maybe I am just being lazy and hoping I'm at the end of the race. I have an appt with my doc this afternoon.He has no reservations in prescribing meds, and I need something. I am a few hours away from a script, or so I believe and I am utterly beat.
The truth is, I hate excuses. I hate excuses from other people, and I do not accept them in myself. We all have circumstances and obstacles, but excuses are merely weak justifications to ourselves and others. I haven't had a bad day-- I vacuumed the floors, did the dishes, ran a load of laundry, took care of the dog, fed my boys and dressed them. I just am not the type of person to sit on my arse. It's not in my nature. I love to knit, for example...you know how much I have knitted in the last three days? I can tell you precisely- 82 stitches. There is always so much to do. There is always someone that needs something. People use that very fact as a reason to procrastinate, "It'll be there, it's not going anywhere." I just refuse to justify the never ending tasks of life as a reason to sit back and allow my family to roll around in our own filth.
But, I need some space to be good to myself, and I may just take an hour to finish all that I absolutely MUST do today, and I will sit back. Make a wish for me please- I need good sleep. No dreams, no nightmares, no middle of the night roaming, just deep, hard sex...I mean, sleep!

My Before Photo

I realized that I never have posted a pic of myself, and I just thought I should put a face with this captivating wit of mine...so here goes....I hate pictures of me....

Pretty Ugly

I cut off my hair yesterday morning. My family was eating breakfast, and in the midst of my mascara application, I boldly reached for my shears, and SHA-ZAM! I whacked off between four to six inches. I had a long, golden mane; now I have a softer version of the eighties bob. I walked back downstairs and began to work without saying a word.

I thought my husband would hate it. Men love hair. Let’s face it. I have never known a man that doesn’t prefer long hair to short. I have received comments in the past (from men) about my hair choices, going long to medium…you’d think I had shaved myself bald, and obviously I was up for the awards of “suddenly gay” or “mentally incompetent”. My husband loves it. He just smiled…and I said….

“I’m sorry if you think I look like a bull dyke…(no offense to my bull dyke sisters…just not my best look). I am just soooo tired of men.” Madeline Kahn said it best in Blazing Saddles, “I’m tieh-yad”. Men seem to think if you are pretty, or they perceive you as such, they can speak to you in whatever sexual manner they wish. I have experienced this several times in the last few weeks, via email, on the phone, in person…”maybe I’ll just have you for lunch.”. It’s just crap. I was complaining about this to my email pen pal, and he says, “Well, you ARE so beautiful and sexy, I doubt he was able to control himself.” So the deal is, if I am found attractive, men cannot control themselves, and they will tell me so. It’s my fault, not theirs, and telling me is a way of forgoing responsibility, passing the blame onto me, and trying to wrap all that bullshit into something that, given I had the IQ of my living room curtains, I would accept as a compliment?

Maybe if I was 18, I would giggle and blush and take it personally. But, it’s not personal. It has nothing to do with the woman that I am. It’s merely some guy testing the waters for a random hummer, and it’s despicable. I am now thirty, and can see the game for exactly what it is. And if it takes shorter hair for me to be handed the basic respect of of a man or a homely girl, to recognize that I speak above my shoulders, then I am keeping my hair the way it is …..at least for a while.

And to those men that may find me frigid, or a prude….

The cable company called today to verify my service was working after another outage. When I explained that my cable television services were still not working, the gentleman said, “let me try to find your box…”. I burst into laughter, and eventually so did he. I love to flirt and joke, but I am not to be held responsible for anyone but myself.

Trouble with a Capital "T", that Rhymes with "G", and that Stands for "Grounded"

Yesterday, Maddie had her first soccer practice. It may have been her last. Don't get me wrong, she is a natural. She played goalie for a while and was the best at that....other parents in the bleachers remarked on it, without knowing she was my child. Hurray! However, her progress report came this Friday, and she is getting an F in Math, and a C in English. The girl has never brought home an F, and she knows a C is totally unacceptable as well. So, she is uber-grounded. Trumpet drops down to every other week, and we allowed her to play soccer on Saturday mornings, because it's not during the school week. I already had a phone conference with her teacher, and she and I have a united plan in action. Now, of course, the plan just began Thursday afternoon, so obviously there are no results. I also made a chart for her that outlines her entire existence on Monday thru Friday, from the moment she walks in the door until the moment she goes to bed. Who says SAHMs don't have a use for Excel?????
Well, then we went to Tom and Angie's so she and her friend could hang out, because her buddy is having surgery on Tuesday, and will be in a wheelchair for a month or so. We were originally going to build ramps into their home, but Tom and his dad had it almost finished before we even got there. So, we had drinks, and BBQ'ed dove breasts- yeah, that's right- and had a huge dinner. We even took our dog, Peyton, to play with their dog, Guage. (Named for Peyton Manning and a shotgun guage....can't you just fell the testosterone dripping????) A good time was had by all. Everyone fell asleep almost immediately, they were so tuckered out from all of the fun. That is, except my husband and I--oh, yeah!
Now, my hub has to go put in a couple of hours at the apartment building. We aren't going to sell it this year, due to the change in the housing market...oh, well. That leaves me with laundry and various other cleaning duties like stripping all of the sheets, dusting, the floors, etc. Someday I'll have one of those weekends when I sit on my ass. When will that be again????

Misfit

I think I feel like the world's biggest misfit today. I know that there have to be at least a million other suburban moms out there with the same conundrum. I wanted to do something today. So, who do I call? My friends...I blow through some phone numbers. Well, my best friend is in Israel. My other friend is headed to China and Russia next week. Another friend is napping. Another friend is at work. Another friend is MIA. Another friend is laying on her ass. Ok, well, then. My friends are doing everything or nothing, and both are keeping them to busy to be friends. WTF? It's just one of those days. But, aren't there other women stuck in-between? The ones that clean the house, do the laundry, and can't run off to Russia in the middle of the school year? Where are those chicks? Every time I call one of these women, their lives or so busy or so whatever, that there is no actual friendship at the basis of the friendship anymore, and that is depressing. OH! Wow! Just remembered my dream. I dreamt I had lost my job, some job, and I remember telling myself that everything would be ok, that it's wasn't an actual loss, but just change. And that change can be painful or scary, but it's only change. The rest is mostly in your mind. Damn! I know I have been feeling this way for a while (months), but maybe last night, I started to deal with it all....hmmmm.....