Tap dancing in the grass...

... is the title I always thought I would give a book about my life.

The story:

I had the idea to show my daughter Shirley Temple movies...  Like Curly Top and such.  Of course after the first one she *had* to have tap shoes.  And Clara being who she's always been, threw herself into the deep end of tap dancing practice.  In our living room, in the kitchen, in the bathroom... and when I went outside, of course, she followed.

She had been dancing in the walkway, all the way to our driveway.  But at some point something must have seemed better, softer... so off she went to the grass for quite a while.  As I minded whatever it was I was into that afternoon, Clara continued with her furious practice, kicking her little legs around and quite possibly envisioning herself as Shirley in Curly Top.

It was at the highest point of her new found talent that she called for me:  "Mom!  Look!!  I'm tapdancing in the grass!!"

She was so happy, so elated, and living in her own world of tap dancing superstardom.  Never mind that the whole idea of tapdancing was lost in the cushiony grass, drowning out the beautiful metal taps hitting a solid ground.  She was, by God, dancing her heart out, who was I to burst her bubble?

Bless her sweet, tapdancing little heart.  I love her so much.  It was at that moment I realized how most of my life I've lived tap dancing in the grass.  So many instances, so many situations, so many relationships...  So much hard work and wasted emotion.

Yet somewhere, someone is looking down and seeing that my efforts are pure...  I may not be good, but I have good intentions.

G

New blog name. New much more...

I love Blogger.  I have been wanting to change the whole "No Sex" title, since I have long outgrown who I was when I started and I must admit I never really liked the show itself, only the *idea* of it.  Anyway, I changed it and it was so EASY to do!  Yay Blogger!!

I am watching "The Bible" as I read this... pretty enjoyable, although there's a lot of fighting and killing...  Moses received the tablets with the 10 commandments (Though shall not kill?) and promptly engages in killing a bunch of Egyptians.  At the moment, I'm loving the whole "I offer you my daughter" line...  the way it was filmed/delivered/acted was very borderline comedy.  As if he had looked around and didn't want to part with anything else.  Ok, maybe just to me, and I have had a very giddy sort of day, but still...

And before that, one of the most tragically agonizing stories for any parent, had me glued to the screen to see how Abraham's sacrifice of his son would play out.  After it was all done, father and son headed back down the mount and all I can think of was Isaac saying "I'm never going anywhere with you again, dad!  That was so not funny!!"  Yeah... maybe I need to quit getting inspiration from Mystery Science Theater 3000.  Or maybe I should watch this all over again when I'm in a more somber mood.
Or maybe, I will leave it to my own imagination and not rely on the Hollywood version...

Anyway, Clara is in Indy.  When she gets back she's going to Vegas.  Bala is away for the weekend at a birthday party on some mountain getaway... I hope he is having fun.  I know Clara is.

That's all.  Life is still good, with its ups and downs.

Will write again soon.

PS:  David's crown from Saul is a bit disappointing...

My son. (from 1/11/09)

I'm watching my 9-year old son naked with a large towel around his head, trying to twirl it around and as high as possible. It's so ridiculously funny, I can't stop laughing. He is so skinny, and his bony limbs are totally un-synchronized, I think he might just hit his head on the sink and knock himself out. Yet he keeps calling out to me to watch and see just how high the stupid towel will go. He barely gets it to swing from right to left and then makes this grunting sound and circles his head in a big sweep. Nothing. The towel barely moves. He's now trying it again... same result.

I wish I could take a photo of him to upload, but I'm not sure it would be entirely appropriate. Is there some kind of limit for that?

He's now gone to his room right outside the bathroom door, in search for underwear via the kitchen at the opposite end of the house. Meanwhile, our t-cup Yorkie snuck into the bathroom and left with a dirty sock in her mouth. She proudly pranced somewhere, and I'm sure on the way she'll run into the naked boy in search for underwear. Wait, I just heard him say "YES!"...

As usual, I found him, but before I saw his nakedness, he figured out how to get his underwear on by going around the other side of the house. Unfortunately for my seriousness, he had them pulled up to his chest, always a funny visual. "Mommy, I'm on the second level!" Not sure of what, but I'm excited for him. I then asked him to get dressed (I'm thinking jammies, it's now 9pm) and off he goes. He comes back wearing his suit pants, no shirt. While smiling at me, he pulls the zipper up and I say "Baby, jammy pants, it's bedtime!". Smile turned to surprise, "Oh!" and he ran to the bedroom.

Now, I know when I get there, he'll still be in his suit pants. And I'll have to get stern and go through the usual "why don't you do what I ask?" routine, when all I want is to kiss his cheeks and eat him alive for being so fucking cute. Sigh... they kill me.

Crossroads

Ever since that day I've had a difficult time feeling "happy" but the only thing that really moves me is anything to do with my love for Him or my reverence for his Holy Mother...  It's the only stuff that reaches my heart!  Everything else has lost its luster...  It feels like I should just live in church as I have an almost disdain for the things of this world, knowing that no matter how much I have or how much I get it's never enough... So I'd rather go the other way.  And I don't know what to do with this...  How do I help my children be part of a society I don't have respect for and I don't believe in as a functional way to reach our highest potential as human beings??  I guess I'm just having a hard time and I need some guidance...

About my father...

My memory might fail me, but I think it had been a year or more since my dad had died. I was on the bus, riding from Callao y Santa Fe towards where we used to live, Congreso. Behind me sat two older gentlemen engrossed in the kind of conversation that older people have: about things past, how they were and how much everything has changed.

At some point, one of them asked his friend if he remembered Dr. Neumayer, the physician who had established a swimming record back in I don't remember what year. My heart filled with pride, as I tried my hardest to hear what these men had to say... and it seemed to be nothing but praise.

What sticks most in my mind is that it was a moment in time when it was confirmed in my head that my dad had indeed been a "great one". And, for some reason, it is the voice of strangers that provides you with the most conviction when your memory is clouded by what life had been like at home. Personal failings aside, he had earned the respect of many, and although they never saw him crying and screaming for my mother on the floor of our living room, in their eyes he was a greater man than many others.

I don't have any particular feelings about this at the moment, as a matter of fact I feel a bit numb. I have had my moments when I held him up in a pedestal, and my moments when I wanted to change my name, so as not to carry his with me. I now don't know what I feel. Loving with all abandon can leave you open for disappointment, loving above all failings can make you feel foolish, and loving with restraint can make it feel less real. God knows I want to love him, but I just don't know how.

G

Love, its shapes and sizes

I heard a voice today on the other end of the phone that I never thought I would hear again. It was Alejandrina, one of my childhood friends.

Ale and I were close when we were little. I had other "BFFs" but I remember spending the night at her house on many occasions, and yes, I loved hanging out with her and playing but another very important reason for me to want to stay the night at her home was her mother.

If there was ever a woman who taught me how to show love to a child it was Ale's mom. She would shower me with hugs, kisses goodnight, and always told me how much she loved me as if I were her own. She would even tell me that she could easily adopt me as her own without any hesitance. She made me feel so incredibly special and would even call my mom to sing my praises, telling her how amazing I was and how much she loved me. She was really like a second mother to me.

I think around the 3rd grade (although Ale said it was much later, like in the 6th grade), Ale's mom was going on a road trip with her boyfriend, whom Ale hated. Ale begged her not to go because she was afraid she was going to die. Her mom told her to stop being silly, that nothing would happen and asked why she felt that way, since she had been on many trips and it was never a problem. I remember all this so clearly, as I was there when they had that talk and I remember my friend being angry at her mom for leaving. The next day (or maybe a couple of days later) I went to school as usual, and many (if not all) of the girls in my class were crying. I asked Oshi why she was crying, which surprised me as Oshi was Japanese and hardly ever showed emotion, she was always very composed and in control. She then told me that Ale's mom had been in a car accident and had died.

I started giggling, and then outright laughing, saying "no she didn't!". My brain kept telling me "STOP LAUGHING YOU IDIOT, she died and everyone's crying! You should be upset!", but for some reason the laughing wouldn't stop. It was the strangest reaction but one I could not help. I suppose that's what happens when you go into some sort of shock, but I was ashamed and embarrassed and couldn't talk about the whys of my reaction. I don't remember clearly what happened next, but I do remember that Alejandrina's dad pulled her out of our school and took her away to a different town. We never heard from her again.

Through the years, I thought about Ale, her mom, and her brother and felt really sad for her. She didn't like her father at all and was very miserable with him. I looked for her every so often on the Internet, on MySpace, on any kind of people search, anywhere I could think of.

Then, a few days ago she friend requested me on Facebook. To hear her voice again sent me to immediate tears. I cannot explain the feeling, as I know no name for it. Almost like a mixture of nostalgia, peace, love, bittersweetness, longing and happiness, but even all that doesn't cover it. We spoke for a really long time and she told me of what she had to endure at the hands of her abusive father. How she wasn't allowed to answer the phone an he had gotten rid of all the phonebooks she had. She wasn't even allowed to see her mother's family. Although she eventually left her dad's, was married and had four kids, she also lost a baby girl of 2 years old, her mother's namesake, who also died in a car accident on the same day as her mother... some day in November, I think about ten years ago...

Ale is now a very strong woman, and talking to her gave me tremendous amounts of peace. I so wanted to hug her, to get on a plane right away so I could see her, as so much of how she looks now reminds me of her mom, sans the reading glasses that were always on her face.

In the best way I knew how, I told her that her mother made a huge impact on my life. That every time I show any child that I love them, I go about it the same way her mother did. And I hope that, just like her mom, I make them feel incredibly special and that love is and should be unconditional. Her mother was the brightest star.

Celina, for the short time I knew you, you gave me a gift that I could never repay you while you were alive. But know that in my memory and in my heart you will live forever, with those glasses on your nose and a smile that's never ending. I love you still, so very much. And the love I have for you is now for Ale. I hope I won't lose touch with her again, as I'm not sure such a loss repeated is something my heart could bear.

Keep an eye on us, and shower us with your love from Heaven.

All my love,

Gabriela

Changes...

I've thought to change the name of this blog so many times, but... I'm still in a city and, well...

The name stays.

I now live with my 2 children, 4 dogs, 6 chickens, 1 rabbit, 1 rat, 1 mouse and 1 frog. No, never mind, the frog moved out yesterday or the day before, I don't remember, but his name is now Steve. Oh, and of course John lives here too.

But John has been gone a long time. He went to London for a tune-up. He keeps saying he'll be back in a week and the weeks keep passing by and no John. I'm actually very happy here with just the kids, but we do miss John. Benny misses him most of all, I think. I hope he's doing well (as he says) and he'll be able to get back to the US with no problems.

Life has been so rich lately, all thanks to Facebook. I have re-connected with people I never thought I'd see again. Alejandrina Solá Y Paz... Wow... I've been dying to hear about her for so long I don't even remember. Her and Ursula Welsz, but I've only found Ale, and just today she accepted my friend request. I hope I can talk to her tomorrow. After all, it was her mother who gave me so much love when I was little, and then she died in a car accident. I remember when Viviana Oshi(?) told me about the accident and I started laughing. I was in such shock, I kept saying "No she didn't die!" and laughing nervously. My brain kept telling me to stop laughing, that it wasn't funny, but my reaction was the opposite. Ale's mom was an amazing woman, and when I saw photos of Ale on Facebook today, I saw her mom in her face. All that was missing was the reading glasses...

I really can't wait to talk to her. I wonder if she has any photos of her mom to share. I need to tell her how the love her mom showed me is the exact same I try to show other children today. That when I want to make a child feel welcome, accepted and loved I think of and channel Ale's mother. I wonder why she loved me so much, as she would tell my mom...

Oh, my gosh!! I also saw Sister Rose on Facebook, who was the very scary nun at St. Dominic's ("Chica!") with the big blue eyes and big boobs... I was soooo scared of her! Anyway, not sure she's still a nun as there is a photo of her in a bathing suit and no signs of a habit... She sent me a message in reply to mine that she remembers me and my mother well. Of course, my mom lived at St. Dominic's when she left my dad and the nuns and priests were her roommates... She always said she had a great time while she lived there. I called my mom and asked her about it after I got the reply from Sr. Rose (Dymphna Tipper now) and she didn't even remember ever having lived there...

Her brain is definitely going. I wonder if she'll get to where she doesn't remember me either.

Time to click "Publish Post". Goodnight.

My own little corner

I should probably change the name of my blog, it seems old and slightly stale now...

Anyhoo, this week I found a TON of people I had been looking for for years. I kept a "lost" list of people on my phonebook, just so maybe someday I could find them. Maybe I subconsciously knew that God would inspire someone to invent a venue such as Facebook, but whatever it was it felt as if I had gone on a trip on a time machine and reconnected. Except now everyone looks older.

It has been over 2 years since Stefan and I separated. It still seems strange to type his name and the rest of that sentence, as I never thought that would happen... but things happen and the world keeps turning, the sun comes up and goes down and the moon makes its appearances... everything continues on.

The more distance grows between what it was and what it is, makes me think of what my marriage had become, and it just didn't seem to be what was the ideal marriage, and I mean for me in particular, not just anybody else.

I'm sure many women could have seen it through. Unfortunately, I'm not made that way. I describe it as "starving and having a beautiful cake in front of you, but not being able to eat it". I used to have romantic dreams about George Clooney (as some people know well) when I was married, probably because I was in desperate need of some sort of attention. The funny thing is that now that I'm completely alone I no longer have those dreams, and I'm sure one would think they would be more prevalent now... not so. It is so very difficult to long for the person you love, the one you are with, that for some reason or another you just don't get enough of. His time and attention became so desirable, that even now when he talks to me and we have an actual conversation, I almost become nervous, sort of anxious... and I think I trained myself that way. In my head I keep wondering what I should say so as not to lose the connection, or if I'm saying something he would consider boring, unimportant...

This is not a dynamic I want to exist between us, but it's also not one I know how to undo. It's definitely not something I want my children to get used to, but they are also in that situation as their time spent with their dad is a bit of a commodity.

Ugh. I hate my writings anymore. I wish I had better stuff (funnier, lighter) to write about, but I'm saving all the light, funny stuff for when I'm with my kids, and what goes on here is just me venting.

My own little corner of the world.

My girls, the chicks

Chelsea and Peeps. What amazing girls... I can't believe more people don't have chickens for pets.

We got them as babies, and although we didn't get to imprint them right out of the egg, in time they learned to "love" me. Nowadays, they walk up to me when they see me coming, and when I lean over to pet them, they do this weird thing with their wings, where they sort of spread out their backs and get down lower to the ground... hard to explain, but they stay there until I'm done petting them. I can also pick them up without a problem or any hesitation. So much so, that I pick one up, then get the other one with just one hand...

So of course, being me and not even being able to fight my impulses, I took both girls in my arms and walked across the street to visit my neighbors. I think I mostly did it to see their faces once they opened their door. They hadn't been home in a long time (months) so when the husband opened the door I got my priceless mental photo. Ahh... to live in a somewhat swanky neighborhood and walk around with 2 chickens in your arms.

So... my girls are awesome. They love me, they are lovable, they fertilize my garden, they don't take up a lot of space and best of all... they give us the best eggs in the world I've ever tasted.

And NO. For those of you who don't know, we are NOT eating baby chickens. These are only eggs, not fertilized by a rooster. Just EGGS. No babies.

Start by admitting...

... from cradle to tomb, it isn't such long a stay...

Why is it that the older one gets the faster time goes by???? UGH!!!

I know I've written about this before, but I am really in disbelief about the speed in which time moves. Facebook has been a horrible reminder of this, as it is a little like a time warp. I knew these people "yesterday" and today some of them are grandparents... WTF?? And their photos... oh, their photos! Whatever happened to us?

But, hey... I still like myself better today at 44. I look older, yes, but if being young again means I would have that 20-year-old brain again, no THANK YOU. Not even my 30-year-old brain would do. I am very content with the 44 years I've accumulated and I'm not ashamed to admit I still have a lot more to learn, and to grow, and to live...

I'm almost to the exact middle of my forties, and my mom was right. So far, they are the best years of my life... absolutely, hands down.

Shoot, I have to go to the Office Depot for Bala. Seemingly, he needs erasable pens NOW.

Dear ME, this is not possible...

How can it be?

For the past 2 years, my kids have been staying with their dad for 2 days at a time (sometimes less) every 2 days whenever he is in town. At first, having to let them go literally felt like someone was ripping my heart to shreds. The pain I felt was unbearable, and it took some time for me to not cry every time I said "bye" to them.

Now, two years later, things have changed somewhat. Or have they really? There are times when crying unconsolably does take over my being and I'm rendered useless until I see them again. Sometimes, the mere knowledge that they will be leaving at some point that day sends me into a depression. Then, there are the times when I know they will be leaving, but I can think of 1,000,000 things I will do the moment they are gone. Things that interest me, things that are responsibilities, even things that are downright fun. Then... they leave.

No sooner is the car driving away, that a cloud of sadness starts to follow me, and every time it's the same damn thing: I walk into my house, sit on the couch and do mind-numbing things like play video games, or get lost in Facebook so I just don't think about anything. I try. God knows I try to occupy my mind, but it's their presence -- or lack of that zaps my energy. It's an underlying feeling that I just cannot shake. And there is nothing I can do to stop it.

I don't know how I will ever stop this nonsense. I see other moms who are more "normal" and who can find things to do, to occupy themselves in this free time. Some of them are even grateful to have the time to themselves, and even I sometimes think it would be wonderful to just be on my own... but when the time comes I just can't function.

I haven't re-read this post. I'm just venting. Now I'll publish it and hope to somehow cheer up.

GOD I MISS THEM.

Damn...

I don't know why. I mean, I *do* know she killed herself because she had cancer, but what I don't know is why it happened. Know what I mean?

I got in touch w/her brother on Facebook, and I had hoped that at some point, when I traveled back to Florida, I could meet up with her. She was so fun, so sweet... I knew in High School she had a crush on me although we hadn't spoken about her sexual preference... of course she was a lesbian, but the kindest one I've ever met.

I, on the other hand, had a crush on her brother. Not only was he crazy-cute, but he was a bad boy. Fortunately for me I was too goofy to go near him or he would have chewed me up and spat me out in 5 minutes. Fortunately for me, I had Suzie to bring me down to the reality of her "bad-ass" brother and how unattainable he would be for little ol' me... Fortunately for me, I had Suzie as a friend. DAMNIT. I always enjoyed our friendship, even when I distanced myself a bit so as not to confuse her. Even then, I never thought she would end like this.

I don't know how she did it. All I know is that she took care of her things and left everything (supposedly) in order. Then she took her own life.

And my chance to ever see her again.

Damnit.

I think I'm too young to be this tired. I don't mean physically, just feel like I've already lived a fairly long life, got knocked down a few times and I'm just wondering which round I'm on...

Some days are just not good... I wonder if women also get "pms-y" when they ovulate, because I'm... I just feel like crying. I do. But it's almost like I don't even care enough to, like all it would take would be just the right thought and it would all come rushing out. It's there, but like the sneeze that won't get out, it only causes discomfort. In this case, it only causes pain.

Indeed... not all my entries are cheerful, but with the good sometimes there is bad. Tomorrow will be another day. I just hope no one will yell at me...

Martha Stewart Jr.

I have been sick for as long as I remember. This stupid flu has hit both my kids and myself and has convinced me without any doubt that next year we are ALL getting flu shots.

When their father isn't traveling, our kids spend 2 days with me and 2 days with him. The last 2 days I had with them we were all sick, and spent them mostly in bed. Nausea has been a part of this flu (I believe caused by the flu medicine), which prompted wonderful John to buy some pudding to help settle stomachs all around.

The other night my son and I were lying in bed and I suggested he go and get himself a pudding. As he walked away, I asked him to make sure he asked his sister if she would like one too, since she was in the TV room, and this is an extension of the kitchen.

He comes back with 2 containers of pudding, one for me and one for himself. He also remembered to bring spoons, my little thoughtful guy. I passed on my pudding because it was chocolate, not something I should eat while nauseous (the kids took the vanilla), but I asked my son if he also remembered to ask his sister if she would like one, he said she did and gave her one himself. My sweet little server...

After the pudding was finished, and we hung out for a bit, I heard the stomping feet of my daughter barreling down the hallway on a mission. Soon, she was at my doorway, where she came to a very sudden stop. Facing her brother straight on, she demanded "Bala, YOU DIDN'T GIVE ME A SPOON!"

Ok, I swear I didn't laugh even though it took every ounce of strength I had not to. I did, however, engage into a Q & A with this child.

-"Clara, did you get yourself a spoon?"
-"NO"
-"Wouldn't it have made more sense for you to walk the eight steps it would have taken to get your own spoon instead of walking all the way to the other end of the house to announce you didn't get a spoon?"
-"No... "
- "Did you already eat the pudding?"
- "Yes"
- "How? Without a spoon?"
-"Yes, I squeezed it."

I told her she should have used a spoon. I explained to her that her brother was not her servant, but he'd been nice enough to get her a pudding to begin with and she should be thankful to him and not be so demanding of him. But still... I don't know. There's something so incredibly funny about this stompy 10-year-old marching all the way to the opposite end of the house to announce the major discrepancy in the way she was served dessert instead of just fixing it herself. From the day she was born I've said that she is destined to either be incredibly wealthy or a bag lady, because she just won't conform.

Needless to say, she didn't see anything wrong with her logic. Someone had made a mistake and by God she was going to let people know.

I know she sounds like a nightmare, but I must let it be known that she is just as hard on herself (if not more) when she makes mistakes. She does say "sorry" quite often, and her heart is always in the right place.

My thought on this particular instance? She would have never served anyone food without bringing utensils.

And a napkin.

And asked the person what they wanted to drink.

I had a dream...

As terrifying as many of my dreams are, sometimes I’ll have one that reeks of absurdity. And me being me, I wake up from it and eventually stop taking dreams so seriously and find the comedy in them.

Last night I was incredibly bothered by a new law in California. Here is my story:

I was very rushed walking down the street (I think it was downtown?) talking on the phone. I had so much to do. I was supposed to meet my friend Dene so we could go looking for movie stills of some movie he had been in (first and only acting job he ever had – and he’s a 40-something interior designer). I also had to prepare some sort of Holiday dinner (I only had a piece of roast, a banana and some flour, which I could turn into crepes. Oh, and the kids found some huge grapes). The street was full of people, lots of them just sitting – on benches, on steps… Suddenly, I ran smack into a cop. I looked up from my phone call and the stern look on this officer’s face prompted me to quickly lower the phone to my side.

Looking down he said to me, “Ma’am, you do know there is a new law in California, don’t you?” “Yeah…” I tentatively answered. “Not only are you not allowed to drive and talk on the phone, but the new law states you can’t walk and talk either.” “Please don’t arrest me, officer, I just forgot, with the holidays and all… I’m sorry” I said. He continued, “However, the rule is that if I escort you to an area where you can safely sit down and continue your conversation, you can avoid a ticket or arrest.”

(Advisory - NO THIS IS NOT A PORN DREAM)

Off we went, down the block until we came to some steps. He said I could sit there because it was an approved area, so I sat down and resumed my conversation.

I was really pissed off because I thought that the whole “no walking and talking” law really made cell phones useless anymore, and as I looked around there were so many people now… sitting. And because the law stated you must sit and talk in a safe area, nobody could sit on a curb, or near the street so seats and steps had become the new parking spaces.

Thus, downtown had become a gigantic game of Musical Chairs. As soon as a phone rang, people would scurry for a seat, as if the music had suddenly stopped. As soon as a ringing sound would hit the airwaves, whether it was your phone or not, you had to be ready. Some people wouldn't even get up at all, lest they lose their seat...

Furthermore, there was also a law against becoming involved in intense conversation with a passenger while driving in a car. If the conversation was light and casual it was ok, but nothing that would require any distracting thoughts, or any engaging thoughts at all. How did the police knew how intense the conversation was, you ask? By the look on people's faces or their gestures, thus making it impossible for those of us of Italian descent to communicate with anyone at all while in a car.

Discussions of this law extending to "not engaging in deep conversation while walking" was also in the works. Something our government was considering passing in 2009.

I don't make this up. My brain does. The same way I wake up most mornings with a song in my head, making it the official "Song Of The Day". Today it was "Save A Prayer" by Duran Duran. I'll try to post these as the DJ living in my head lets me know what they are, given that it's not his day off or is called to work a wedding.

True story, I don't make this up, my brain goes on its own free will.

Writer's strike looming

If I don't soon get some kind of comment on this mf, I will quit writing.

She's a lady - another pet story

My daughter's new dog, Tiki, finally went into heat. She is the smallest dog that's ever walked this earth and (of course) the cutest (at probably 2 lbs. wet and with ankle weights).

I noticed this change last night, after she used her training pad in the house. Couldn't wait to tell my daughter (who was at her dad's), so I called her immediately. The first thing she said was something about it not being possible that her dog get her period before her, and then she begged me to not "make" her dog have babies, but to let the dog choose (huh?).

Anyway, she said this because her last dog, Carmela, was cruelly forced into (no pun) mating with this hideous creature: a teacup-size poodle stud, all-white, 2.5 lbs., with a member he could proudly base a rap career on, walking toward us whilst moving his pelvic area back and forth. He was terrifying, much more so than a Chuckie doll waiting to give you an OB exam.

As I held helpless Carmie, and offered up her virginity to Satan's Lapdog, the matter-of-factly pimp of a woman that was the other dog's owner reached for her dog's penis and proceeded to insert it in said virgin's hole.

"Is this really necessary?" I thought to myself, as Carmie turned her head towards me with imploring eyes. "Why? What's with the inserting gross things inside me?", she seemed to say. To make matters worse, the Madam told us (my step-daughter Kelly was with me, just because I self-destroy by bringing witnesses into my ever-evolving world of crazy) to hold Carm butt-to-the-sky to make sure the "stuff" went in.

Some of it did, some of it did not. Some went on Kelly, as she had held Carmie with comforting love. She then quickly passed her to me, butt down. Grossed-out and alert, I reached for her and turned her butt up again. Carmie whimpered, so butt down. As I brought her closer to me, butt back up. Yes I felt bad for treating her like a snow globe, but I knew if any of Satan's Lapdog's jizz went anywhere on me I would be cursed with feeling it indefinitely on whatever spot it landed. Because if a wet kiss on the cheek doesn't go away so easily...

Thankfully, my daughter (Carmela's owner) was too young to personally witness this, although she remembers the incident because afterwords Carmela developed an infection that almost took her life, and that was a big deal at our house. She was literally minutes away from a ruptured uterus that would have been the end of her. But she survived.

Carmie's attitude toward male dogs did change after this incident, especially since she had to have all of her reproductive organs removed. Regardless, she was a good dog.

And a true bitch.


In memory of Carmela, whom I miss dearly, and haven't given up on.

A summary

So I blink and next thing I know 9 days have passed since I last wrote...

Day 1 - I was sad

Day 2 - I wasn't inspired

Day 3 - I freaked out

Day 4 - the kids went to their dad's, I was sad

Day 5 - same as day 4

Day 6 - kids came back, I was busy being happy

Day 7 - Similar to Day 6

Day 8 - Kids left again, too sad to write

Day 9 - Kids were gone. Again, too sad

Today - someone pointed out that I was a lazy ass, had to prove them wrong.

Woo-hoo

I'm happy. The kids are back at home and I couldn't be any happier.

I guess I don't realize it, but when they are with me, I listen to every word they say, I engage in what they do and basically never ignore them (besides, they wouldn't let me). So when they aren't around the silence is deafening, and my brain is in constant search for them.

I know I'm giving them all I got. In retrospect, I gave my marriage all I had, and although at times it saddens me to think about it, today I found a video I made for my husband that summarized so much of what I used to feel. And that made me happy. Right there in front of me, was proof of what I felt, a detailed description of what the main problem has been for many years... and I felt happy.

I felt happy to know that after all this time, I haven't wavered from who I am. I was true to him and myself, and I continue to do so. I told him years ago what the consequences would be if things continued the way they were, and it happened... nothing more, nothing less. I now claim to only want to be around my children, and that's what I do. I say I'm not interested in dating, and I don't go out. In this exact moment, I'm happily proud of that, because after crying for most of the day, I feel strong. Kinda kick-ass. Like the Lara Croft of emotionally needy and co-dependent women. But Lara Croft nevertheless.

I HATE IT

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

I hate not having my kids here. Then I thought of cloning them, but me being me I would want to keep all 4 to myself. Plus Gigi when available...

I cannot live without my kids. I love them more everyday, they are my sun, my moon, my morning, my night, my breath, my sustenance, my music and my song. Their eyes sparkle, the perfection of their faces takes my breath away. Their voices drown every other sound in the world. Their touch gives me a warmth that could sustain me for a thousand winter nights.

And yet... here I am, without them. Night takes forever to come, and the dark it brings isn't dark enough. It's cold, I miss their warmth. It's so quietly loud, and their voices I cannot hear. My home looks distorted, an ugly compilation of belongings that are material and don't hold any meaning... Nothing sparkles, everything is dull and lifeless.

I just want tonight to end. And it just doesn't come quick enough.