Again? Are you KIDDING me????

My husband (or soon to be ex? or dead?) had made me a promise: I would for sure get to see this new condo in Marina Del Rey that he wants to buy before finalizing the purchase.

Because of scheduling conflicts, not enough time to plan and the fact that the bloody thing is in Marina Del Effing Rey, I haven't yet seen it. "No problem," I heard a some days ago, "the financing didn't go through".

Today he told me there was another way to do the financing. I didn't like the way this whole deal was starting to sound, so when he came by to get the kids I told him so, hoping that my new status as his really good friend and mother of his children had finally gained me some sort of a voice in matters of importance. I told him, "I don't think you should get it".

"Too late", he said, "it's in escrow". "Oh? Oh, no! You lost it to someone else!" "No," said he, "I'm getting it, it's too late, it's in escrow".

To say that I felt my cranium slowly cracking from the back, opening up the way for some raging, red fire to shoot out of it is putting it mildly. How did he do this to me again?????

As anyone can plainly see, I am not much involved, consulted or considered in any major decisions when it comes to... anything. I wouldn't mind if there had been wild success attached to previous endeavors, but this hasn't been the case, and against any sort of advice or warning I heeded, things always seemed to move forward -- with me or right over the top of me, trampling my decision making confidence with the force of a herd of elephants. What's worse, my kids will be staying in a place I have no idea about, or where it is. But I'm sure it's a beaut.

The anger and hurt I suddenly felt, raged and took over me. I spewed all kinds of things that I usually keep locked away into the depths of that "frustration room" in my brain, and quickly made him revisit history. Then, I simply wanted to go around and pick up every single valuable piece of anything he's ever acquired (houses included) and shove them all up his arse. And walk away.

As I fight more and more to bring meaning into my life, I think more and more he's going the other way. We live in Sherman Oaks because this is where he decided was a good place/home for us to live in. Now he moved to the beachside. Wouldn't anyone in their right mind want to live closer to his children?

I raged, I cried, I got a fever. I then decided to catch the last +2 minutes left of the Florida/Oklahoma game. Florida won. I thought of my Florida friends all celebrating, with their beers, bowls of chips, loved ones, all jumping up and down, hugging, hi-five-ing... and how cool those moments are. And how simple. And how envious I felt.

As I now sit on my bed, in this room with an amazing view of the valley, that wonderful beach-front condo is total symbol for bullshit. I want simplicity. I would so love to sit in a small, cozy house somewhere, my legs tucked under me, eating chips and smiling broadly, as I watch those I love lose their mind with excitement over a ball game.

Unfortunately, the one I chose to love as a husband for so long, holds exciting moments deep within his own mind, in the shape of decision-making purchases, investments or grand deals.

Most of these hardly ever include me.

They never did.

And then the sky opened up...

...and God said "I gave you kids, didn't I?"

The Almighty said this by way of my sweetest-kid-in-the-world son, who twice came up to me as I was about to spiral out of control and said "I need to give my mom a hug". Twice. During both times that my throat developed that horrible lump, there he was, dissipating it with his hugs, burying his head in my chest.

Which, by the way, it's something my son might physically enjoy a little too much, but who am I to correct him, when I am simultaneously looking up and thanking God for this amazing little soul?

I am, indeed, one of the most fortunate women alive.

In mourning...

Ooohh... not a great day, today. For no particular reason. It feels like for the past two days I've been dragging sad on my shoe like stuck toilet paper... sigh...

Tonight the kids are off to their dad's (I think, I haven't heard from him yet as he's flying back from Europe). And no matter how hard I try, the few houses of cards that have tumbled seem more sad to me than usual... even those 2-card ones...

Am I in mourning? I think so. I'm in mourning because, according to Michelle, I realized a whole lot of change needs to take place, including the losses that come with it. I see how hard the work is if I am to stay true to myself. It turns out that acting and going with the grain is so much simpler, but so much worse for the spirit and the road you're supposed to take. Funnily enough, this doesn't have anything to do with my marriage...

Oh, and the family secrets are still coming. No matter how much I've distanced myself, I get pulled back in. It's so incredibly dysfunctional and incomprehensible. But just like the bowl of boiling water at Shabu-Shabu, crap comes to the surface and as soon as it's cleared a whole new set of crap floats up. And almost like on a timer, every couple of years or so...

Worst of all... I'm not PSMing. I wish I was, then I would be sure that by tomorrow everything would be better...

You know you need a shower when...

Yesterday was the day to feed our new pets (#s 5 and 6), frogs Oggie and Lily (if my daughter has finally decided that's its name) and watched with sick fascination as they waited for the dumber-than-doornails crickets to get closer and closer to them so they could be devoured.

One of the crickets, I kid you not, literally walked up to the bigger frog and tapped it on its mouth with its front leg (???). Convinced the frog would get it, I was baffled when said frog just walked away and towards a little fake vine to climb back to the top.

Slightly annoyed by the lack of cruelty that by the laws of our natural food chain should have taken place, I picked up the frog and set it back down in front of a larger group of crickets. Lily, once again, headed for the vine.

Now I know that most of us "mommies" sometimes lack enough time in the day to take care of personal things like, I don't know... personal hygiene. That was the kind of day I'd had so far. Although I might have used the time to get my ass in the shower and leave the poor frog be, the stubborn me (an oxymoron?) was going to see a frog eat at least one cricket.

So I picked up Lily once more, and placed it down with the crickets. Thinking that there was a possibility that this frog could actually be more stubborn than I was, I watched head back for the vine. It then climbed up to a level spot and it stopped. There, as if to let me know what the problem was, it started cleaning itself where I had touched it.

I left to have a shower. Stupid frog.

Thank you...

For making me write, for making me laugh, for those little things that make the days go by more pleasantly.

I need a haircut. The last haircut I had was good, but now that it's past my waist, I should visit the Scissor Man.

Unfortunately, and opposite of the way it used to be, I no longer have a Favorite Scissor Man, I don't even know of a Most Valuable Scissor Man and I live in L.A. I've definitely become too much of a mom. And yes, they have that "Hot Moms' Club" thing somewhere online, which might be a way to re-connect with those "in the know", but the name alone turned me off it. I even think they had kids' t-shirts that said "My mom is hotter than yours"... are you kidding me??

Back to hair and other such things... I once went to this hairdresser on Melrose on the advice of a friend. She raved about him and how he cut her hair with a razor and it was awesome...

I went in to see him and came out looking like Joan Jett and Chrissie Hynde's love child. Which is a more of a bad thing one would think, because if you're old enough to have attended the concerts, then you're too old to wear the look.

I promptly went to another salon for a quick fix. I got my hair straightened stick-straight. It didn't work perfectly, but given that I had my 20th class reunion I had to do something. Ugh. I now see the pics from the reunion and remember how much I hated that haircut and everything I had to do to maintain it looking semi-acceptable. Hence, my hair is now completely natural and has that "Adam and Eve in the Garden" length to it...

In a way it's good. It helps me cover up when I'm naked and giving a speech in front of all those people...**


** in a dream, of course!

Forced Writer

I am now under certain obligations to write shit on this journal, whether I like it or not. And in my never-ending quest to please others, I now find myself at my computer, my cup still warm from the coffee I barely finished.

Sigh... Another day.

Ok, so there's a plan today. The plan is: a cookout with Gretchen in OC, coming home to wait for Debra to pickup Tom and Genevieve from LAX, giving Tom and Debra their Christmas gifts, spending makeup cuddle-time with Genevieve, putting everyone to bed, going on Facebook. Oh, and somewhere before meeting Tom, Debra and Genevieve, wrapping their Christmas gifts. Yes, I'm still wrapping Christmas gifts.

Maybe that's why I like the whole "waiting for the Magi" thing, because this way, no matter how much I procrastinate, there are always the Magi and the time they take getting here. Kind of like how you have a whole year after a wedding to give the newlyweds a gift, but I don't know the logic behind that one...

Anywhoo... don't know what else to write. I feel that hot spotlight shining on me, and the whole being-naked-in-front-of-everyone thing... I could write to my little group on "unknowns" before, but now, for an audience of one? That's hard...

I'm going to start a new entry.

Morning phone

Mmmmmmm.... I'm glad I was still asleep and had no time to think. I'm happy I didn't see the caller ID, or I might have not answered.

It's funny how two people can assume all the wrong things, and in a single instant throw away something meaningful over something meaningless. But thanks to those above, and to the fact that my brain takes about an hour or two to be completely awake, I answered the call and was better for it. Because all in all, I'm still human, and getting me in the morning is very much like getting me when I'm drunk, or when my brain is at its most basic, cradling the most basic of human emotions... and that desperate need to feel connected.

Amazingly and fortunately, I didn't fuck up. Or I don't think I did, keeping my head above water and still managing to get some points across... and as I sit here and write I can't for the life of me remember what those points were... Only one that mattered: Please don't disappear. I won't disappear either.

And for now, that's all that matters.