Squishisms

There are 127 days til my wedding.  It’s on a boat.  Which means I need water in the lake.  I sent a call out to the Universe months ago asking for rain, and for it to rain through til March/April and then stop.  Since, you know, we can’t have it on a boat if it’s raining.  So far, the Universe has been granting my request.  I have my fingers crossed for March/April, but I have hope that this whole crazy idea might actually work out the way I plan/want.  That never happens to me.

Robbie is still unemployed…still stuck with ‘pending legal issues’ that prevent him from finding a job that pays more than unemployment does.  In addition, when he was laid off, he cashed out his 401K to help tide us over until he found a new job… and we thought that was going to bite us in the ass on our tax return.  But we filed all the paperwork and are somehow getting money back.  Enough to pay for a(n inexpensive) honeymoon.  I really didn’t think I’d get one.  Not for reals…

I got my old roommate hired on at my job years ago, before the babydrama and falling out occurred.  Yesterday, more than two full years later, I received a ‘recruit bonus’ for referring her to our company.  It isn’t much, but it has paid for our wedding rings, and will *just* cover what I need for the scant decorations we are doing on the boat.

My parents sent our Christmas presents now that we are moved and settled.  But the guy at UPS screwed up and didn’t check the address, just printed what was already in the system – so it went to my oooooooooolllld address.  A place I haven’t lived in for almost three years.  But the lady called UPS and got in touch with my Dad to let him know.  She gave him her number so we could get in touch with her to pick it up from them.

We, both as individuals and as a couple, are known for having the worst luck known to man.  Seriously, you can ask any of our friends.  It’s ridiculous.  My paycheck once stopped for six weeks for no reason whatsoever and nobody could figure out why.  My boss had to pay my rent.  We went to Bonnaroo for four days and a tornado went through Austin and battered the hell out of our cars with hail.  We rescued a big German Shepherd/Rottweiler Mix, and he’s the biggest crybaby/scaredycat ever.

Etc.

Since the start of the year I have had my check engine light and my brake light come on in my car.  The house we were so excited about has had to have the repair man come out several times in the last month to fix leaky faucets, and spray for bugs, and light switches, and half the plugs won’t hold the plugs in them, they fall out – which is totes safe, right?  We had to take Bauer to the vet because he started pee’ing everywhere for no reason and was scared to eat.  (He’s better now, by the by.)  UNC is not going to make the tourney for the first time in a looooooooooong time, and that may or may not be partly my fault.  (Shuddup, you can’t say that they still would have lost if I had been at jeremy’s like I’m sposta.)  I’ve stayed mostly sick, with strep throat twice already since the first of the year.  I am still at 200 pounds, even though I’m only eating roughly 1500 Calories a day with VERY few starchy carbs and walking the dog/going to the gym whenever I can find time – which isnt nearly often enough.  And then there is the whole impending wedding I’m not sure how we’ll pay for, Robbie being unemployed, lost Christmas package things too.

But somehow, all the mess seems less important.  Less glaring.  Because for the first time in my life, I feel like the Universe is taking care of me.  Like, somehow, I am being given what I need, when I need it.  And I can’t help but think if maybe the rest of the crap is to balance that out…  And that it’s not nearly as bad as it could be/usually would be….

I won an award!  I Squee’d.  And then did a dance.  Yes, it might have resembled the Snoopy Dance…

Courtni gave me a Happy 101 Award.  The rules say I have to list ten things that make me happy and then pass it on to ten other bloggers…but I don’t know many other bloggers who haven’t already been given it lol.  So I’ll just say that if you list ten things that make you happy, and haven’t already got the award – consider it yours now.  :)

So… Ten Things That Make Amanda Happy:

1.       Sharpie Pens.  Is that weird?  I don’t care.  I love to write and doodle and am a compulsive list maker.  I’m also a Virgo who despises mess.  Sharpie pens are clean and crisp – they make words look definitive and important.  It’s bold font that doesn’t bleed through and looks prettier than Times New Roman… bringing me to numbah 2…

2.       My Handwriting.  Most of the time.  After 45 minutes of addressing envelopes it gets a little sketchy, but for the most part I love the way my handwriting looks (especially in sharpie pen).  I love the way I make the lower case letter ‘f’.   And I love the way my new name looks when I doodle it like a twelve year old with a crush.

3.       My new house.  The boys are not such big fans of it.  All they see is a decided lack of hot water and leaky sinks and holes in the fence.  I see space for my dogs to run and play and get out of my lap/hair.  I see places for my friends and family to gather and eat wings or pizza or pasta or enchiladas whenever I want.  I see privacy.  I see friendly neighbors and a park around the corner.  I see twenty steps in any direction without running into each other, a dog or a piece of furniture.  The rest will come.  Having a house makes me feel like we are really a family.

4.       Date Nights with Teridactyl.  Nights where the boys are banished to their respective corners and I can sit in my home and be a girl.  It means a lot to me that she drives so far out of her way to hang out with me.  And the longer I live with men, the more I appreciate the girl talk.

5.       Ke$ha.  I know, I know.  Don’t judge me.  Here’s the thing.  I know it’s ridiculous. I know she is ridiculous.  I don’t care.  The songs are upbeat and happy.  They remind me of driving home to Waco from Austin at 3 in the morning – sitting in Natalie’s car with the radio up.  When we most definitely should NOT have been driving.  When we didn’t quite understand all the lyrics, so made up our own ridiculous versions.  It’s like Ke$ha is the embodiment of those moments – only her lyrics are really that ridiculous.  I adore her.  And the feathers in her hair.

6.       Reading.  Specifically horrible, cheesy Supernatural Romance novels.  Gimme.  Gimmegimmegimmegimmie.  So much that I have a corner in the new house already slated for a papas an chair for me to curl up in to read where the dogs won’t fit and will have to bug someone else.  Shhh.  Itsa secret.  Iwon’t haven’t told the boys (yet).

7.       My family.  Robbie and my dogs being there every day when I get home is a bright shiny moment, every single day.

8.       Email.  I do a happy dance anytime I can email instead of call.  I get seriouslyfuckingpissedoff at places of business that do not have links for email or online communication and force a bitch to call.  We all know we are all making these things happen while at work nowadays.  It’s far easier to pretend to work while writing an email than sitting on the phone – and I ain’t got time to sit on hold, motherfuckers.  Getwithit.  It’s TWOTHOUSANDMOTHERFUCKINGTEN.  I should not have to pick up my phone ever.

*ahem*

9.       Butter Cookies.  And French fries.  And pie.  And cobbler.  And SourDough Bread.  And mashed potatoes.  Baked Potatoes.  Pasta… you get the point, I’m sure.  But the thought of fitting into a bikini of a specific size makes me happier – so I will be forsaking the starches.  I can do this.  For reals.

10.  And now I’ll be a big geek.  WoW makes me happy.  A lot.  I rarely group or play my level 80 character though.  I like the leveling.  The questing.  The killing of things by myself, with my headphones on.  Noone to tell me what to do or how to do it or when or why.  Just single minded killing or things that don’t matter cause they aren’t real… and I miss it when it’s gone.  When I cancel my subscription for months at a time… I always come back.  And – Truth?  Between you and me, I’m bad at it.  And I don’t care.

One of the reasons I am Childfree is that I know myself.  I would be a horrible parent.   I don’t like children for more than an hour or two at a time – and even then only if they are clean and well behaved.  I have no idea how to talk to them.  Conversations with my friends’ kids can often be painful, awkward moments for me…

I like dogs.  They trigger that mooshy/gooshy/maternal emotional response in me.  I have slightly more patience for an animal that literally cannot understand the words coming out of my mouth than a child who just doesn’t want to.  I know how to train and communicate with dogs…

At least I thought I did.

Bauer can sit and shake and stay and lay down and come(sometimes) and drop it, plays fetch and is learning to walk on a proper leash.  He knows what I mean when I tell him to get in his crate, or off the bed or couch.  He is learning to get Up in the car on his own, and didn’t foam at the mouth on Tuesday when we went for a ride without Ginger to comfort him…

But Bauer is not okay.  He is terrified and overly-submissive and agitated.  He cowers even when we try to feed him and hides in his crate if I raise my voice or have any semblance of an angry tone – regardless of who I am speaking to.  It’s worse with Robbie.  He gets too afraid to pee, and then either lets it all go subconsciously in acts of submission to Robbie – or in the middle of playing fetch because he just can’t hold it anymore…  and then he hides and shakes.  Or he’ll follow me step for step and sit right behind my feet when I tell him to go potty.

He’s always been timid.  We’re 90% sure the people before us were beating him.  But it was getting better…

And then we moved.

And suddenly it was much, much worse.  And I have no idea why.  Or how to fix it.  He wasn’t this spooked when we brought him home with us to the apartment – so I don’t think it’s the move itself that has him so worked up…

I feel like a horrible dog-mom.  My baby puppy is scared and hurting and sad and I have no idea how to fix it.  I am not even sure if maybe we haven’t caused it in some way – which makes me want to cry.  Both boys are Over It.  They didn’t sign up for puppy-drama and are frustrated at his lack of understanding that he is Physically Okay and Safe.  At having to clean up his messes when I am not home and… so I feel guilty for bothering the boys.  For bringing this poor, pathetic, high-maintenance dog into their home.

*I* am terrified he’s going to pee on something and irritate/frustrate the boys.  Which has me even more on edge.  And makes it even more stressful – which I know he picks up on.  He is eight months old and 42 pounds.  He is going to be a big dog.  Too big to be so afraid of everything.  I am terrified I won’t be able to fix it and something will happen and he’ll bite someone and have to be put down.  I have nightmares of it… or that I can’t fix it and Robbie decides he can’t deal and leaves us.  Or he asks me to get rid of Bauer/says we have to get rid of him.

I’ve scoured the internet.  I am trying everything listed to fix this.  I am not petting his head or standing over him or hugging him tight like I used to.  I am letting him win at Tug games and making a concentrated effort to not yell or use angry tones.  I am lying down on the floor if he starts to shake or get scared.  I am trying to distract him with a toy if the lying down doesn’t work.  I am making a point to exercise him when I get home: with a walk, or games of fetch/chase in the backyard.  I am making him sit and stay and shake to give him something to do that he is good at and try to build confidence.  I am letting him rest his head on the top of mine and praising him every chance I get.  I am using soft tones when asking if he wants to potty and then walking outside to stand in the middle of the yard in the rain so he doesn’t feel abandoned or punished for peeing.  I crawled with him into the living room to eat – taking a handful out of the bowl and placing it in front of him.  I let him hide in his crate as long as he wants to when he wants to…

But how long before it starts to work?

…and what if it doesn’t?

I get it.  I really do.  You go to the movies, and you like whatever you see.  You want to share the happiness and joy you experienced with everyone else.  It made you happy, so obviously it will make them happy too.  You have to tell them about this movie that will make them happy.  You have to let them know that they will be happy if they go see it.

You, and every single other person that was in that theater with you, will go and tell all your friends about the movie.  Half will go see the movie, maybe half will like it as much as you did, and then they all go tell all of their friends, along with every other person who was in the theater with them.

I used to do it too.

I am poor, but more importantly, I am claustrophobic in the extreme.  I CANNOT go to movies opening night anymore unless someone can guarantee me that I will have someone I know WELL on either side of me to buffet me from the crowd of people I do not know.  I often wait at least two weeks before I will go see a movie, and even then I prefer to go on a weeknight or matinee showing.  (If I can drag Robbie out of bed for a weekend matinee, my life is perfect.)  I may even just wait to see it in BluRay.  It takes a lot to get me to a theater anymore.  I will be the last person to see the movie.

Always.

And by the time I go see it, I have either heard all about it and there is no point in spending the $40 it takes to go to the movies now, and then I’m irritated that I wasted the money and time.  Or, I don’t find it as entertaining as EVERY SINGLE OTHER PERSON alive apparently thought it to be and then I’m even more irritated at the waste of time and money – and irritated at the person who told me the movie was worth that (Read: You).

I am not big on romantic comedies.  Very few of them make me happy.  Up In the Air?  Not a fan.  Completely don’t get the draw of that, other than Clooney – who never gets naked.  ‘Dramas’ with Matt Damon or Leo DiCaprio?  Also not my thing (99% of the time, Blood Diamond is still one of my favorite movies ever.)  I don’t get moral treatises in movie form.  I just don’t.  Julie and Julia? Made me want to cry and stab people all at once.  And I still want those two hours of my life back.  Don’t even get me started on movies like Paul Blart,Bruno, or Napoleon Dynamite.

I can appreciate the high caliber of acting prowess…but not the movies themselves.

My alley is horrible movies.  Horror movies.  Action movies (without Bruce Willis, unless it’s the Die Hard movies).  I love foreign movies, with subtitles – dubbing is ridiculous.  Bread and Tulips is work of art.  And there are not enough words in the English language to fully describe my love for documentaries.  And I am my father’s daughter and will always watch SciFi movies, and love them, regardless of hole-y plots and bad acting.

Occasionally I do like the movies everyone else likes.  Most recently – Avatar and Star Trek.  These movies tend to be HUGE blockbusters.  Movies with huge promotional campaigns.  Movies everyone anticipates, including me.  Movies that McDonalds makes a special French Fry container for and/or BurgerKing invents cups for.  Movies I will have decided to go see long before you (and everyone else) come tell me how awesome it is and the thousand reasons why I should go see it.  I will have been dodging commercials and trailers for weeks, to keep from knowing more of the plot than I want to.  To keep from expecting anything from the movie.  So that I cannot be let down.

And then my weeks of careful avoidance are ruined by one sentence from someone who just can’t contain their excitement.

The internet is ruining us.  We are all, myself included, guilty of over-sharing.  We can tell literally every single person we know each time we have a bowel movement through FaceBook or twitter if we so choose, and some do.  We have gotten used to being able to inform the world of every single action we take and how that makes us feel.

We don’t wait to be asked anymore.

“I saw Avatar last night.”

“Oh yeah?  How was it?”

“Ohmigod it was the bestest movie that ever bested!  I loved it!  You haven’t seen it?   You should go see it.  I’ll take you to go see it, right now.”

Has become :

“SoandSo SuchandSuch      JUST WATCHED AVATAR AND OMG EVERYONE GO SEE IT RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW!!!ELEVENTYONE1!!!  I’LL GO WITH YOU!!!”

Again:

Which brings me to my second point:

No.  I do not want you to go with me to see it, if you have already seen it.  You will give away the plot.  You’ll lean forward in your seat in anticipation of the gunshot.  Or look to me to see how I will react to the betrayal about to occur.  Or you’ll talk through the whole damn thing telling me to “just wait” for what’s about to happen.

Some movies, I don’t care.  I don’t care if you tell me if you liked it, or didn’t.  Or what RottenTomatoes has told you think about it.  Or if you go with me and sit forward in your seat and preemptively shield your eyes from the Scary coming…

In those cases:  I WILL ASK.

Is it so much to ask that I not be told if I don’t ask?  Really?

***Note:  I am aware the blog above is petty and pouty.  This is me not caring.  >_<***

Any 8 year can tell you what it means, if you aren’t sure.

*ahem*

Xamine Your Zipper.

Now, bear with me for a minute while we skinny dip in a sea of metaphor.

Wow.  That was just mean.  I apologize.  I couldn’t help myself though.  Stay with me.  It IS game day and I might have had some vodka.  I’m getting somewhere though, I promise.

*ahem*

Socrates said “The unexamined life is not worth living.”  I have spent these last twenty-five days reflecting on my life.  Examining the last year in minute detail as I strove to find things to be grateful for that began with certain letters.  I found, as mentioned in the S blog, that there was much more than I expected.

Some days though, it was a struggle – and I let all my ugly bits hang out for the world to see.  One day, in particular, I neglected to ‘Xamine {my} Zipper.’  And instead just spewed ugly in your eyes.

Yeah, I went there.

I told you – a SEA of metaphor here today ladies and gents.

A zipper holds back, hides, the ’shameful’ parts of us.  The parts society says should be kept private.  That society has insisted are Private for long, that it became a euphemism.  Parts of us that, frankly, no one else wants to see without advanced warning, and then may still put the kibosh on the idea of letting all that hang out in the breeze…

My biggest lesson in the last year has been to examine that line.  As I’ve quit smoking and re-learned to manage my emotions.  As I got in trouble for blogging at work because my words hurt someone’s feelings (again.)  My lesson has been learning when to share…and when to simply sit quietly.  To think about WHY I want to say something, and try to do so before saying it.  To determine if I SHOULD unzip… in that moment…that situation.  To evaluate if the good it does me outweighs the harm it could cause another.  And then to act accordingly.

I have learned that when I do this – I find my Xanadu.  I am the ruler of my little slice of life, with a pretty palace near a sacred river.  But it is every bit as fleeting as Coleridge’s Opium-induced vision…  For though I am older than I was, I am not yet wise – and I find myself grateful for my follies – because I truly believe they are what is keeping me Young (at heart.)

And I am grateful for the Zipper that separates it all.

W is for Wicked.

On our Wedding Website I said:

Courtni is Amanda’s Soul Sister.  Her words, her inspiration, her attitude and her unconditional love and support were crucial to Amanda becoming the woman that Robbie fell in love with.  The wedding would not be complete without her.

That is not an exaggeration.  When I first ‘met’ WickedGame – I was intimidated beyond belief.  I had never cared for or about blog-ratings or the myspace ‘elite’ as I thought of them – and she, at least in my eyes, was one of the Elite…but I desperately wanted to know this Woman Whose Words echoed my soul.  More than just Wanting to know her, I Wanted…Needed…her to know ME.  I stalked her blog for months before leaving my first comment.  I almost cried the first time she commented on mine – I felt like I’d won an award.

Wicked is a Writer.  The undiscovered/unacknowledged 10^th World Wonder.  Untempered honesty Winds its Way through every Word she speaks, pens, or types.  More than anyone else I know – Courtni owns Who and What she is.  Completely and Without an ounce of shame.  I have never seen her pull a punch.  And so, when she accepted me – I knew it was real.  When she complimented my Writing – I knew it was real.  She played a big part in my acceptance of my Self.  She exudes strength and Wisdom, and I soaked it up.

And, for the first time in my life, I found myself truly interested in watching a pregnancy progress.  Even being squicked out if I thought about it in terms of ME or MY LIFE… I found myself fascinated by her letters to her unborn daughter.  Teary eyed and full of Warm fuzzies.  It was the first glimpse I had into the soft, gooey WickedHeart beating beneath the hard {candy} shell she portrayed.  And yet, it was no less strong than that exterior.

I almost pee’d my pants when I learned she was going to be in Tennessee for Gigifest.  I was SOOO excited to be able to meet this amazing Woman…and then got tongue-tied when I finally did…and right about the time I started to realize she was human, and neither deserved, nor wanted the pedestal I’d placed her on – and relax – I got the flu.

In the months following got to know Courtni all over again.  Without the idolization, as an equal – a sister.  I stopped feeling like the lost little loser tagging along with the cool kids and realized the cool kids thought I was cool.  I stopped trying and started BEING.  It was a flipped switch, not a process.  An epiphany fueled by the knowledge that Women such as Courtni liked me. Me.  Singing badly at the top of my lungs at two in the morning in the kitchen, wearing pajama pants and a lime green bra that had seen better days – they liked me. Stressed up by superstition and in desperate need of a sports bar – they liked me. Sick as all hell, whiney, mopey and bitter at missing out on the festivities – they liked me.

And when the Frog turned out to be just a Frog, and not a Prince – they were there.  And as I came into my own, there were Wicked little text messages spurring me on.  Forcing me to think a little harder, dig a little deeper into the void known as my Self and KNOW.  And when I needed a new outlet, she got me a visa to thepqnation.

And when I met a man really Worth my time and effort…and when I fell in love with him…and when I got engaged to him– no one was happier for me than Courtni.  LittleMissWicked was happier to hear I found a love like this than I think my own mother was.  It made total sense to me to ask her to stand with me.  And the perfect way to express what (at the time) I had no Words for:  How much she meant to me.

(*ahem*  notgonnacrynotgonnacrynotgonnacrynotgonnacry *ahem*)

So yes.  W is for Wicked.

Carry on.

Is it sad my brain, when faced with the letter ‘V’ – immediately thought of the Sookie Stackhouse novels I’ve been reading?

Then I thought of my friend’s LongDeadVibrator named Vesuvio.

I am grateful for the entertainment both of these things have given me, though Vesuvio died more than a year ago.

But V is for Vanity.

Vanity probably seems a bit strange as a topic for these specific blogs… but I can explain.

I am vain.  I can admit it.  In fact, I just did lol.   Looking nice matters to me.  It’s the number one motivator for my continuing to not smoke – which Iam grateful for.  Despite the weight gain, and the emotional outbursts I am still learning to control…  I know I look better.  My nails aren’t yellow, warped or cracking.  My teeth are visibly whiter.  My hair grows faster and my chin and cheeks break out less often – since I am not pressing my fingers against them all day long to get the cigarette to my lips and the nicotine in to my lungs.  I SMELL better – which is an instant attractiveness boost in anyone’s book.

As much as I want another cigarette – and don’t think I don’t want one more than you could possibly imagine – I am equally reluctant to undo the physical differences quitting has had on me.  For (exactly!) 50 weeks now, that has kept me (relatively) smoke free.  It is why I haven’t brought smokes home.

Even the reluctance to FAIL at quitting can be attributed to my Vanity.  Failing to quit smoking is a very public failure.  Everyone will know if I fail – and we’ve already gone over how much I hate to fail in front of people.

My Vanity has me making a conscious effort to eat better – and now with less frequency.  I am also heading back to the gym after a two (three?) week hiatus.  It has me rediscovering how much I love a good salad…and cottage cheese with sunflower kernels…etc

Despite my weight gain in the last year… I am healthier than I was this time last year.  And I am working my way down in the weight department as well.

My Vanity spurs my determination…  and I am grateful for that.  I figure its better than more than a few of the other Sins anyway…

My first instinct is to go with Undapants.  Mainly cause I like to say “Undapants.”   (Really, I like the expletive “PANTS!” as well, but that’s neither here nor there…)

But, really, I am rather on distinctly Unfriendly terms with all things pants-related at the moment… soo…..

In the last year I have come to realize precisely how many people Understand me.  Who are Unsurprised by the things I do or say, or -more importantly- the way I react to things.

According to Facebook I have 93 friends.  Some of those are duplicates – “dummy” or “safe” profiles.  Some are family. Some are more friends of Robbie than me… Some are people, honestly, that I just haven’t deleted yet because it was easier to just hide them in my feed.  There aren’t many of those though – I purged the list not too long ago of anyone I felt didn’t deserve that level of access to my life.  I deleted a LOT of people who did not Understand me.  People who judged me for things I said or items I ’shared.’  People who were determined to change me.  People who would not admit they didn’t really like ME, but instead were enamored with the character they believed me to be.  People who expected me to not care, or disregard, things that affected me on the deepest, most primal levels.

And yet…93 people are still there.

Ninety Three.

That’s staggering to me.  Someone once predicted that I would never be truly known and loved.  That anyone who truly got to know me would running, screaming, in the opposite direction.  I used to believe that with entire heart and soul.  I wagered on it.  I’m pretty sure I owe at least a couple people a hundred bucks because they’re still here…. years later.  (shuddup Jeremy.)  I was convinced the character flaws were mine.  That the reason I was going through roommates like toilet paper was somewhere inside *ME*.  Just me.

I was wrong.

I Understand that now.  Because so many people, so many of YOU, Understand me.  And have helped me Understand myself.

It’s a cycle, but a beautiful one.

I’ll take it.

Ah. Life.  That awesome, beautiful, FUN thing that always seems to get in the way of my blogging now.

It happens.

Today is, first, for T.

And T is for Teridactyl.

I stole the nickname from DeAnne.

Teri is my rock.  My family away from my family.  She adopted me.  And let her mom adopt me too.  Until I met Robbie and we made our own little family – Teri’s family WAS my family.  I went to her Aunt&Uncle’s house for holidays.  I was around so often her entire extended family were convinced we were dating – and well enough liked that her Grandmother told them all to shut it – and that it didn’t matter if she was.

My own family wouldn’t accept me if I were gay, but Teri’s did.

Teri is Tacky with me.  We are hateful, evil, malicious little bitches when we are Together – and it makes me happy.  She is my cohort for all things horrible-horror-movie related.  She is my Mistress of Bubbles, even though it means she has to wear a dress and have her picture taken.  She will be the first person I go to to help decide if I can pull off this bikini thing I have planned or not when the time to actually order an outfit comes around.

She tells me when I need to calm down and lower my voice, and is one of only three people I will listen to when they say it.

She bought me butter cookies.

…and an animatronic Triceratops.  <3

She stays in North West Austin once a week, driving all the way home to South Central Austin – even though she has her own cable now and doesn’t NEED me to watch So You Think You Can Dance.

She loves my dogs and doesn’t mind that one smells bad and the other drools.

She has drug my drunk ass out to her car, and driven my incoherent, rambling self wherever I needed to be to crash, and let me borrow a shirt to sleep in more times than I remember.  And brought me aspirin at least twice before I passed out.  AND I think she actually, physically, changed my clothes for me once.  I don’t have words for how much it means to me that she stuck around despite all that.

Teridactyl’s are the bestest best friend that ever best-friended…  and she somehow maintains TWO of us.  (Side note:  Sarah gets an honorary mention for sharing her Teridactyl with me.)  And her hectic family life/responsibilities as well.

And she lets me lick her when there are cameras around.  Is there really anything else to say after that?

When I started this, the plan was to take Christmas day off.  But I took yesterday off instead.  And it’s been a day.  An introspective, intraverted sorta day.  I spent the day with the boys, and spent some time in the back seat with the music up – so while they chatted up front, I thought.  I reflected.  I remembered.

I can trace most of the things I am most grateful for to a Single, Stolen Sentence.  And since it is Stolen, I am less willing to go back through blogs on TheSiteThatWontBeMentioned and search for where I found it…when I Stole it.  I know it’s been at least four years… I think?  Three maybe?  Aw hell, no I *have* to go look.

On May 30, 2006, I read a blog that forever changed my life.  I didn’t know the woman who wrote it.  She had never seen my name or face or profile before.  I didn’t even realize at the time how profound the impact of that blog would be.  That it would become MY Truth as well.   My mantra.  The foundation of my being.  I didn’t even know the woman’s real name – she was simply known – at that time – as BurstMyBubble. We later came to call her Gigi, and finally, years later, I embraced my friend Carol in real life.

She titled the blog Seek Sunshine.

When Robbie met Carol this last summer, there was a (possibly drunken) moment when he admitted that he’d never let his walls down until he met me.  I had to respond truthfully and say that mine came down when I ‘met’ Carol.  I only recently realized it could be traced to that specific moment, that specific blog.

Seek Sunshine came from the mouth of a babe.  A toddler.  Carol’s little boy.  She Shared that Story with the world.  That personal, deeply emotional prose, with the world.  And in doing so, set in motion a chain of thinking, of events in MY life that ultimately lead to here.  It started me down the path where I embraced my Strength rather than revile it.  It helped me to feel Secure in Severing toxic ties that were keeping me Stagnant.

Seek Sunshine.

In a nutshell, it is exactly what it seems to be.  The knowledge that the Sun is right behind the biggest blackest cloud in your Sky.  Still there.  Still existing, just out of Sight.  Even on the coldest days.  When you are tired and sad and alone and heartbroken – the Sun is coming back.  Always and forever.  Push through the dark, the pain and sadness and you will find it.

Taking it further, because that’s what I do, it meant to cut away anything choking out the Sunshine.  It meant weeding the garden of my life…  I am only now beginning to realize how much beauty and happiness has replaced what I weeded away.  How much room I made in my Soul for MORE Sunshine.

EVERYTHING else I have now – literally – would not be here if it weren’t for that one Stolen Sentence.  I don’t know why it was this phrase that hit me so hard.  I spent YEARS being told “Seek and Ye Shall find” and “This, too, Shall pass.”  The lesson is the same, only combined and Simplified.   Everything you need in life, rolled in to one Simple, Stolen Sentence.

Seek Sunshine…

…in yourself.

…in life.

…in YOUR life.

…in others.

…in spite of everything.

…TO spite everything.

…in everything, all the time.

And so today was not about Sex.  Or School.  Or Sleeping in.  or Snakes.  or Sterling Silver.  or Saturdays.

And remembering, realizing and publishing the impact Seek Sunshine has had – has made today the best Christmas I could ask for.