Paying bills and growing fingernails


Well, it’s not that I have NOTHING to write about, it’s that NOTHING I feel like writing about is WORTHY of putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard).

Like who wants to know that my nearly 19 year old son is asking me to buy him a $35,000 sports car to “motivate” him to go to school and get a job?


If someone fucking bought me a $35,000 car, WHY ON EARTH would I work or go to school?!

Nevermind that I have YET to own a car worth that much.

AND. . .

I knocked the fingernail off my little pinky finger on my left hand and am ECSTATIC to discover that it’s growing back!


I did it while sleeping on Tejas’ couch when I caught it on a seam and ripped it off.

Who knew sleeping could be dangerous?

And then DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED on how freaked out I am about my mom’s heart condition.

She gets winded all the time and has to sit down but continues to chase after her two little grandsons like it’s the best thing in the world for her.


And of course, there’s the fact that now I am suddenly responsible for all the cooking, cleaning, laundry, food shopping, etc. for a household of 5 people!

I BARELY have time to relax before it’s bedtime.

I start falling asleep at 8 pm.

So that’s my life in a nutshell

No outrageous sex.

No fun parties (although there is a 40th birthday party and the Pagan Bunny Burn coming up).

No cool costume building.

Just paying bills and growing fingernails.

That’s all that’s going on here.

Grief and living

There is a clarity in grief.  As if somehow being unable to hide from the reality of death anymore makes us so much more skilled at living.

I’ve always found it ironic that the times in my life that I’ve felt critically alive are the time when I’ve been grieving:

  • when my son Douglas died
  • when my friend Andrew and his son Zachary were murdered
  • when I received a difficult medical diagnosis
  • When my dog fell out of my car on Highway 80 and was hit and killed

Shocking.  Sudden.  Instantaneous loss.  It shook me out of my complacent stupor and reminded me that life is fleeting.

That in the end, none of us gets out of this alive and someday it will all be over 😦

And there’s something about not just knowing that but actually feeling it in your body that make us all live a little brighter.  Enjoy our lives a little bit more.  Sometimes, a great deal more.

All we are left with are memories.  Which is why I feel an overwhelming desire to create more memories – with my family, with my friends, and especially with my children.

I have renewed enthusiasm in getting out there and doing something fun.  Starting with this weekend.

I’m taking Duncan and going to my aunt and uncle’s cabin in Pollock Pines.

There will be shenanigans

Oh yes.

Is it bad to be too bored to date?

Is it bad to be too bored to date?  Honestly, if I have to go to Los Gatos for one more dinner date I may just fling myself into Vasona Lake and go for a long cold swim.  After my $1,000 date with Edward, no other date will come close.  Edward ruined me by setting the bar too high.  No more fancy dinners.

Honestly, I’d love for someone to just take me to the beach for a bonfire, or a sports game, or skating/falling at the ice skating rink.  That could be fun.  Hell, I’d even enjoying going to a park and flying a kite.

Anything but dinner in Los Gatos.  The waiters all know me there and think I’m slutty with all the dinner dates I have.

Little do they know.

Last night I was expecting to get three phone calls from three men I met online – Tony the Italian physical therapist, David the 6’6” pinot lover, and Anthony the camper.

So when Tony called, I naturally said, “Hello David.”

“Wrong horse,” he laughed.

Big oops!

Not the best way to start a conversation with someone new.  We had the standard getting-to-know-you conversation which was unremarkable and slightly boring.  I tried to get off the phone but he kept me on until I agreed to a date.

IN LOS GATOS.  At a restaurant OF MY CHOICE.

Any of this sounding familiar?

Welcome to the wonderful world of internet dating.  Pin a medal on me and call me “Genius.”

image tny
Anthony Tony

Week long meat grinder

mp-smallI’m afraid to blog this week. Lord only knows what I will say. I can tell you this much, recent events have scared me and made me question myself.

I am sure in the scheme of things, this is just the Universe’s way of teaching me to stand on my own two feet. But seriously, I’ve been standing on my own two feet for ten years now. Isn’t that enough? When do I get to sit, or at least lean on somebody when my feet get tired?

For Pete’s sake, can I at least get a friggin’ foot stool? Or is that asking too much?

Here is the image of me you need to hold in your heads for the rest of this week. It’s me, poised in front of a week long meat grinder, getting ready to claw my way through to the other side. It’s not going to be prettty. Or graceful. But I’ll come out the other side and put myself back together again.

And I’ll be stronger because of it blah blah blah blah.

Been there, done that, wrote the book on it, then used the pages for toilet paper.

Grind away at me life. If you haven’t triumphed over me by now, you’re never gonna….