Holding it all together

My mother has been in the hospital.

Her heart, which shudders instead of beating, set off her defibrillator four times.

You know your heart function isn’t up to par when you get a defibrillator built into your chest.

Imagine getting your heart shocked while you’re conscious.

Four times!

As typical, my mom is being a real trooper about the whole thing.

We took her home and she’s doing much better now that she can rest and relax in familiar settings without hospital staff and noises disturbing her.

Apparently, it’s THE LAW in California that when you set off a defibrillator, you can’t drive for 3 months.

So that means in my household of 5 people, I am the only adult (besides a flaky, self-absorbed teenager) who can drive.

And do laundry.

And cook.

And clean a 3,000 square foot house.

And drive my blind father.

And take out the trash.

Do I sound like I’m a little overwhelmed?

Well, that’s because I am.

But since there’s not much to be done except to do all the shit that needs to get done, I believe I will just carry on.

Tejas says I need to get my boys more involved in the maintenance of the house.

And I have to agree.

Do you feel that breeze?

It’s the winds of change!

Learning to be subtle

I have 5 tattoos.

I got them all within a year of turning 40.

I’d go to Reno to visit my sister and I’d come back with a new tattoo.

The last tattoo I got was a watercolor butterfly on my foot.

It got infected. . .

. . .on account of me going in my sister’s hot tub RIGHT AFTER I got the tattoo.

No worries.

My sister ripped me a new one.

And the process of clearing up the cellulitis was awful.

I thought my foot was going to fall off.

At work, I usually keep my tattoos covered up.

I don’t put them on display like I do at Burning Man or Burning Man events.

Remember that one time I shoved my crotch in a man’s face in order to show him my hip tattoos?

Yeah, I’m more subtle about it now.

Today I accidentally left for work in a sundress and to my surprise I had no sweater in my truck.

So I’m sitting in my cube, minding my own business when a coworker walks by.

“Nice tattoo. What is it? A heart?”

It’s actually a heart with an infinity symbol, meaning eternal love.

And it’s my only tattoo I dislike on account of it reminding me of the man I was with when I got it and was all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about being in love.

Ah, eternal love.

Not!

As it turns out, eternal love only lasts until another woman comes along.

Needless to say, I won’t be wearing sleeveless tops to work anymore.

See. . . I’m learning to be subtle.

 

My other tattoos are:

Save

Cupid

So I’m putting together a Cupid Costume for the Cupid (Bar) Crawl.

It goes a little something like this:

Gorgeous red corset:

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Matching red tutu:

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Red fairy wings, as if there’s not enough red already:

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Red LED heart earring.  Because who doesn’t love things that light up?

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A bow and arrow, because love comes with weapons, no doubt:

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My favorite piece of the WHOLE outfit… the heart shaped fascinator:

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Red glowbys for hair and tutu:

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A little heart-covered baggie to hold all my goodies I plan to give away:

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And the gift I’ll be giving away…

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You didn’t think I was going to tell you what it is, did you?  Not!

 

Speak Your Heart

To speak your heart is your right. It is also your blessing.

I consider myself lucky because I like to connect with people and share my heart.

The secret is you can’t be afraid of being vulnerable. Vulnerability is the key to connection.

Your vulnerability is the most precious gift you can give people. When I go on dates and my date says to me, “I’ve never met another woman like you,” he isn’t saying we’re compatible. He’s reacting to the fact that I’m real.

One of my favorite quotes is by Dr. Seuss, “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.”

Don’t we want to surround ourselves with people who matter? They’re the ones who treat us like equals, the ones who can empathize because they’ve been there too.

They know things deeply. They are the ones who, dare I say it, thrive in the space of being vulnerable.

Knickers

Now it may come as no surprise to all you you, but I have a bit of an obsession with lingerie.

I have 7 drawers full of the stuff.

And that’s not counting pjs, tanks and camis, robes, and other boring night wear.

No, I’m taking lace teddies, corsets, cheetah print chemises, black lace garter belts, and genuinely tiny knickers.

Now when I use the word “tiny,” I use it loosely.  Because as all my boyfriends know, I like sexy underthings but I do not wear thongs or g-strings.

They are simply NOT COMFORTABLE for me.

My cousin Jennifer loves thongs and g-strings and I am obsessed with her teeny tiny knickers.  I’m also obsessed with her little skirts, impressive rack (it runs in the family), bikinis, and genuine love of nudity (especially her own).

I heart my cousin.

So it may seem natural to her, given my obsession, that today I shared MY NEW FAVORITE PAIR OF KNICKERS with a guy friend.

Black with a red lace heart and garter belt.  Beauty!

There’s very little I can actually say to capture my enthusiasm for a) buying these knickers and b) sharing them with a man.

Woo hoo!

Yes, you can color me tickled!