The therapy is...

Some days I want to hide under the covers. Other days I'm in combat stance ready to strike. The days in between are a joining of both extremes because I have discovered ways to self soothe. Today was a day I needed to reach into my bag of tricks. My day started out relatively smooth and only required two hits on the snooze rather than three. I was having a good hair day. I actually managed to spend some time on my appearance. I chose an outfit that was complimented. I wasn't late for work. I was feeling magnificent, well, because I am. It was a cheerful day until...

I know I have a foul mouth. I've never attempted to lead anyone I work with to believe I am a quiet little church mouse. That thing most people have in their brain that tells them not to say something offensive? I think its called a censor. Yeah, I don't have one of those. I've worked with this group for three years and no one has told me I am too vulgar. Honestly, I'm quite mild compared to some people I hang with but let me tell you how mortified I am to be told to watch my mouth...by my manager. When I was told someone complained via email that I used a bad word and offended someone's ear I was stupefied. I was so mortified it led me to apologize to everyone around me. I honestly didn't, and still don't, recall any conversation I had with anyone that resulted in me using profanity. And c'mon...who hasn't peppered their conversation with colorful metaphors? On a serious note though, I thought I was a 43 year old woman. Why on earth is a grown ass adult complaining to a manager instead of telling me to watch my mouth? The office I work in is Kindergarten on steroids. Ummmmm, I'mmmmm telllllinggggg! WTF?

You there, you big titty baby (I love that one) that can't speak up for yourself like an adult, bite me!

Now what was in my bag of tricks? My bag of tricks contained a bottle of wine, ricotta cheese, sauce, veggies, Italian sausage, and lasagna. Today my method of self soothing was an orchestra of single ingredients that once put together made the most delicious lasagna I ever made. Buttloads of the most delicious lasagna I ever made. Oh my effing goodness I had so much stuff to assemble this lasagna that I made one large dish (which I baked tonight) and two smaller dishes to freeze. Cooking is valuable therapy. It helps me calm down and move past whatever transgressions I experience. After what happened today I needed to cook.

I know it doesn't seem like getting in trouble at work for using a bad word is a big deal to some of you. Y'all need to realize that I'm not the type to purposely offend anyone for any reason. I always try to consider the folks I work with and spend time with. I know I can't make everyone happy - obviously there is one person out there that is gunning for me for some unknown reason, but I am considerate to say the least. To everyone. Even the assholes I know who detest me for my sunny disposition and kindness. I like to think that keeping my side of the fence clean means something to even the jerks that dislike me. Mainly that I have integrity. I need to suck it up and move past this now. Maybe I needed to up the therapy and throw in some baking.

One thing I learned today, haters gonna hate no matter how good a person I am.

The final count down...and extreme comfort.

One last term to go and I am done with school for a while. Thank goodness it's just a certificate program. I don't have it in me to do much more than that now especially with the holidays approaching. I have plans to pick up my studies again in the future to earn a doctoral degree but I am not sure which discipline to choose. So, I'll take some time off. Do some research. Put some feelers out. Or not. I like to gamble about some things and I'm usually pretty lucky. Where the hec did that come from? I have no idea why I started with this topic. Nothing like a little random firing of the brain synapses.

There was a "As Seen on TV" product that was all the rage about 5 years ago. Ladies, you may have heard of this stylish product. Yes! I'm talking about pajama jeans! When I heard about these jeans I wanted to get my hands on a pair. I found out they were sold at Walgreens and proceeded to search each store in a 10 mile radius. Finally found a pair after I opened up the search grid to 20 miles. I know, its a bit obsessive. I was ecstatic to find a pair in badonkadonk size and made my purchase. Couldn't wait to try on my new comfy jeans I could live in and sleep in. I got home and said hasty hello's and ran up stairs to put these jeans on. And they were gloriously comfy! No binding or pinching. No digging or bunching. And they were just long enough in the stride there was no worry of camel toe and not so long I had to pull the waist band up to my boobs. The pant legs were a perfect length too. So after a couple wears I had to wash them. Would you believe these fantastic comfy pajama jeans shrank? The piece of crap pants kept their shape in all areas but leg length. They became high waters of the Urkel kind. Which sucked. I tossed them.

I was doing a mild bit of retail therapy last night and went to my usual "mall." I toured Home Goods, Marshall's, Old Navy, Bath and Body Works, then TJ Maxx. I was pretty defeated by the time I got to TJ's. I found nothing I couldn't live without. I did pick up some items at Bath and Body but it was stuff that I normally buy so no feel good rush of something new. Well, I walked through the purse section of TJ's first. Found a great bag but I wasn't spending $199 on  a dang bag. Shoe selection was disappointing. I didn't see anything in the home section I wanted. I decided to peek at the clothing department before heading out. Nope. No blouses. No sweaters. No t-shirts. No jeans...wait. What is this? Holy crap! Designer pajama jeans! Yeah, I bought 'em. I'm not wearing them now of course. They are definitely more jean than pajama but bet they are effing comfortable. Darn things better not shrink!

There's alone and there's alone...

Sometimes its a feeling and sometimes its physical. In my current physical state I live alone. Well, without another person. I live with two big lovable puppy dogs. But no, no other humans. Until three months ago I always lived with someone. Parent, son, brother, husband/s...yeah there's been more than one of those. I'm adjusting to being alone. I don't always like it of course but I'm adjusting.  In the beginning I was freaked out by every noise. I thought maybe someone was trying to get in. Then I realized the dogs would alert me to an unannounced visitor. No, not by barking. They'd likely get all frisky and excited we had company and , oh, look! It's a new person! Some nights I'd have trouble falling asleep because the noises were eerie. I began to wonder if I had ghosts. I again realized the girls would alert me to that too. In my opinion, I think dogs sense other worldly beings.  The girls would greet the entity with the same friendly enthusiasm as an "in the flesh" human being.

Then there are days when I like to wallow in being alone. It's not every day or most days but one day, a half a day, or even a few hours of a day...once in a while I like to be alone. This gives me the opportunity to be a slob and act like a caveman and not ponder on the fact someone may witness this unfeminine activity. I got that alone time when I lived with a person. I get a lot more of that now that I am alone. Still doesn't mean I have to like it or accept it.

There is also the feeling of alone. Feeling alone is something wholly different. Feeling alone is what I struggle with. That feeling of alone brings loneliness. Sure the dogs provide joy and some company but it's not the same as human interaction and presence. At first I was very extremely lonely not having another human being in my home. I'd pace and wander around looking for that missing something. I had no idea what I was looking for, I was just searching. I experience those moments less and less...but I still get lonely. And I still wander around my empty house on occasion looking in to empty rooms and empty spaces. It's akin to the empty fridge syndrome. You know, you open the door to see what's to eat and don't see anything you like. You close the door and walk away. A few minutes later what do you do? You go back to the fridge and look inside. Nope. Nothing new has materialized. Yeah, that's me in my empty space.

 Occasionally I am blessed (graced ha ha ) with company. I enjoy each nanosecond of that time and when it ends I'm desperate for more. This is when I feel alone the most and it really sucks. Yup, sucks balls. This is really the only time I feel lonely lately. I get this sampling of company and it's marvelous. When it's time to get back to our respective lives the loneliness kicks in and is felt in stages. I spend the first day or two trying to ignore feeling alone with no success. After unsuccessfully ignoring it I realize I can't fight it anymore and just let it come over me. Another day or two go by and I realize, woohoo! It's almost time for a visit and I get all girly giddy. Of course while I work through these stages I miss him the whole time...miss him crazy, mad.

Are people really that rude? I need a rant...

I have people in my life that are cherished, valued, and loved. I would do anything for these people. Cook favorite meals, bake favorite desserts, cover their asses, provide shelter, give comfort, bail them out, love with all my heart....I care about each of my loved ones equally yet differently. I care about what they do, think, and feel. Wondering about why they do the things they do is all part of trying to understand what makes them tick. It's an opportunity to learn about what makes them happy so I can bring a little joy to their life.

Now, I'm not much to complain about or even judge the actions and attitudes of others not in my immediate circle. Acquaintances, colleagues, and coworkers come and go. Why they do the things they do don't matter to me. Why should it? Negative and bad attitudes. Poor hygiene. Nasty countenance. I'm happy whether that person exists or not and their actions, moods, and demeanor have no impact on my life. So I ignore it. Mostly. There are people out there that insist on being so rude they must drag everyone along in their misery. The one type of person in this world I detest is the coworker that insists on coming to the office with a cold. I know, detest is such a harsh word. Let me rephrase that to dislike. Extreme dislike. Anyway, it's one thing to come in, do what you need to do, and leave quickly. Or even hide in an office. It's something rude all together to come to work obviously contagious and suck snot, sneeze, and cough all over the general population of healthy coworkers. What's even ruder? This person has the capability to work from home. Why the eff did this person bring that shit to the office? Why? Really?!

So here I am all of a sudden feeling run down. My ears are clogged, my eyes are bleary, and my sinuses are a wreck. Jeez, I think my glands are swollen too. Ok, ok. It may just be psychosomatic. But every time one of these rude coworkers decide it's a good idea to bring their diseased body to work I stress. I stress over how long it will take for me to start feeling the sickness because I am most certainly sure I got the bug. I rarely, if ever, get sick. I haven't been sick-sick in years. Why am I telling y'all this? I'm telling you this because when I get sick I'm down for days. I am sicker than a dog when I get sick. When I catch a cold it is not merely a cold. It's the precursor to acute bronchitis which morphs into a chronic condition. One time I was sick for three months straight. If it happens now, I know who to blame. 

Sweet serendipity has a premium cost...

Annie is my problem child. She doesn't chew through walls or eat furniture or anything like that. She's very mellow and sweet. She is a problem child in the sense that she requires regular urgent trips to the veterinarian. Annie has been a patient of one the kindest, gentlest veterinarians since I picked her up from the rescue three years ago. He's great with her and gets her because he has a fur-baby just like her.

You see, Annie is allergic to everything. EVERYTHING. Grass, weeds, pollen, dirt, beef, carrots, tomato, yeast, and a million other things. Poor girl is chronic. She stinks like a yeast ball and I love her regardless. So I was getting ready to do a ritual ear cleaning last night and something didn't feel right. There was a bubble in her ear flap. It was weird. I suspected it was a hematoma since she had one before I got her but didn't want to take the chance it was an allergic reaction to God knows what and it was still there this morning. I was going to take her to her beloved doctor but every time I take her in it costs me no less than $300 and something like this happens every two or three months. Hey, I'm trying to save my pennies for Christmas by this time of year and didn't want to spend money on a trip to the vet for something I was 90% sure about. So, I got a referral from a dear friend for the veterinarian he uses this side of I95, made a call, and headed over. Boy was that the best call ever. The veterinarian was delightful, the office was beautiful, the staff was so darn friendly....I love the place! And the best part? I got out of there under $60!!! Score!

I felt like I just discovered a new wonder of the world. I was giddy. Annie and I skip-walked back to the car parked on the other side of the block (I love living in the city) and piled in for the short ride home. I traveled a portion of Federal Highway I don't normally travel and was not paying attention to my speed. All of a sudden there is a dude standing in the middle of the street and as I slowed down and got closer see its one of Ft. Lauderdale's finest. Dammit. But what the hec was he doing standing in the middle of the road? Oooohhhhhh...motorcycle cop. He was waving me down to pull over. So I did a quick check of traffic to see if I was going to hit someone and changed lanes but passed the mark and street he wanted me to pull on to. Oops. That pissed him off. I turned on my hazard lights and pulled on to the next street. And waited. After a very healthy ass chewing - that I managed to sit through with out arguing, poker face and all-I was handed a ticket. In the end, the money I saved at the vet I threw away on Federal Highway. Fail!

Go figure.

The wall has been breached....

I am a Gemini woman.

The astrologists all say there are two women in me. Characteristically versatile in attitude and conversation a Gemini woman can be proper and well spoken one moment then wildly unpredictable and sarcastic the next. I am not sure about that because the characteristics I exhibit are likened to other signs on the zodiac. We all have moods. There isn't anything unique to changing my mind in the blink of an eye. Others do that too. This is not a trait reserved for the Gemini. I'm a bit disturbed by the proper and well spoken thing but I'll go with it.

The experts say I'm chatty. Here's the thing. I like to talk, sure, but I only want to talk when I have something to talk about. Otherwise I'm an observer. I like to watch and listen to others engage in conversation and don't feel the least bit left out. I absorb the information I hear and engage myself by asking questions to gather data. I don't usually form an opinion right away. Nor do I debate. I actively listen until I'm bored then my mind moves on to other topics. That's kinda rude I know but its what I do. For the people who like to hash and rehash the same thing over and over...it bores me. I need stimulation!

This may come as a shock to some of you, I'm also quite shy. I do not like to be put in the spot light. I don't care to be called out, or on. If you want me to engage in your conversation that I am happily observing you will need to invite me in directly and pointedly. I'm also more comfortable in small groups. I'm great on a double date, a small family gathering, or out with my best girls. Add too many people and I'm overwhelmed. I clam up and try to blend in with the surroundings to avoid direct contact.

The most accurate characteristic that is me to a tee is the Gemini woman in love. A Gemini woman will keep searching for the perfect man, a man perfect for her even if she is otherwise occupied with another. We test the waters too often and rarely dive in. We do fall in love frequently but rarely is it true, real lasting love. We are incredibly romantic and have very romantic old fashioned ideals of love. I require a great deal of affection and I have a desperate need to give it.

The right man will stimulate me with witty conversation and a romantic heart. He will spoil me with attention, affection, and love. He will match my effort. He will sweep me off my feet with his wit and humor. He will be able to awaken the the deepest most hidden love in my heart and will prove worthy to receive it. He will be the one man that can move past the walls I use to guard my heart. I thought I found this dude a few times over. There was always a catch. I always suspected, expected, and experienced the temporary nature of my heart...that is until now.

Y'all? I found him. I found my perfect match. Or he found me. I'm not sure. He claims he was minding his own business and I used Jedi mind tricks on him. I was not expecting anything other than fun and occasional company from this fella. The next thing I know its somewhere around 9 or 10 months later and I'm consumed. And it's not the type of all consuming that makes me want to be in his presence every waking moment like a level five stalker. Its not the Rose and Charlie thing. That type of consumed never lasts. No trips to Paris anytime soon though. In truth, I find I need room to grow in love and I get plenty of room. Its like he knew this and understood. I didn't have to explain it, he just got it. I fall in love with this man more and more as each day passes. Damn man. I want nothing more than to be with this man the rest of my life. Where the hec did that come from? Oh, and Sugar? We haven't even touched the tip of the iceberg yet.

Please stop checking your pulse. LOL! But you know, you ain't goin' nowhere.

Do not go in there! Whoo!

A good friend of mine posted a question on Facebook the other day that made my nose crinkle.

"What is the harm with going to the bathroom and taking a dump while your mate is in the shower?"

Crass? Yes. Gross? Hell yes. It's one thing to be on the other side of the door when your other half is doing "business" but to be in the bathroom while shit is going down? Pun intended. I don't wish to delve into the realm of my bathroom habits. This is not something I like to give details about but I do have to explain something I learned about my self over the years. It all goes back to the lady's method of potty training. To go off topic a second, Freud believes we are all ruined by our mothers by the age of four. That being said I was potty trained at a very early and sorta unnatural age. I was nine months old when the lady found out another baby was on the way. At one year of age the lady decided it was a good time to potty train me. There was no such thing as disposable diapers when I was a baby and she was not going to change the messy diapers on two babies at the same time.

How do you suppose she trained me to go in a toilet? The lady placed my potty chair in the middle of the house. This position allowed her to see me on the potty from any room at any time. Over the course of a few weeks I was made to run the house naked from the waist down except for socks. No diapers, undies, pants - nothing but bare ass. But I had to wear socks on my feet. What the hec was that about? Hmmm...this may be why I can't stand my feet confined in shoes or socks. Anywho, I digress. I would be allowed to run free through the house sans pants for a short while only to be forced to sit on the potty until I "went." I could not get up until I did something in that darned potty. When I finally did something I was once again allowed to run the house butt ass naked for a short time before I was made to return to my seat.

As I grew older my bathroom habits became more modest. I think after a poop mishap at the age of six involving my brother's desperation for a toilet, which had to be the one I was using (with three other bathrooms in the house), made me realize I didn't like company while I was using the toilet. Nope. I do not. So to this day I don't care if anyone wants to be in the bathroom with me while I brush my teeth, fix my hair, paint my face, shower, or the other dozen things I do in the bathroom. The only time I DO NOT want anyone in the bathroom with me is while I have a bare bottom on the porcelain. Respect the message of the door. A cracked door means you can come in. The message of a shut bathroom door means I'm occupied. Don't even talk to me through the door. Unless you are bleeding or the house is on fire, do not disturb. I think the lady's insistence I do my business in the middle of the house with all eyes on me has ruined me. To this day I am not able to potty unless I have a potty behind a closed door. I cannot camp because I cannot squat to pee, let alone number two. OMG all that openness! And all eyes on my performance! I can't even bring myself to tinkle in the ocean. It's that bad. The lady has done a fine job screwing me up about my bathroom habits. The lady ruined me by the age of one. Go mom!

To answer my friend's question...the harm is removing all privacy from a relationship. When you are entangled in your other half's life so much you can't even poop without their company - or you have to be in the same space when they are pooping - something is wrong. Convenience or not, there is surely a guest bath available and please respect the message of the door. We should all be allowed some privacy. So you know, I will not hesitate to giggle at the butt trumpet! Cracks me up every time I hear it played.