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Major Bedhead



Please note: This blog is dragging itself out of the dark abyss of pish and crawling insanely up to the topmost pinnacle of posh. It is rumble and bumble. It is flap and doodle. It is balder and dash.



Last Build Date: Fri, 19 May 2017 05:47:09 +0000

 



Oh, Hi!

Fri, 06 Aug 2010 13:08:00 +0000

No, I haven't started this site up again, but I am at BlogHer this year and handing out business cards to all and sundry. And of course, I realized about two days before I left that I had this old url on the cards. So if your here because I foisted one of my cards on you, you can click over to my new site if you want to read me.

Next year, I will have new cards. Promise.
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Gulp

Mon, 08 Feb 2010 12:41:00 +0000

I'm attempting to start a Wordpress blog. Bear with me while I sort this crappe out. God, I suck at change.

A link would help, huh? http://majorbedhead.wordpress.com/
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More On Boo

Tue, 02 Feb 2010 18:10:00 +0000

I took Boo to look at a new school today. Well, day care, really, but I'm calling it school because that's what she's used to. She seemed to like the place and was bummed that she couldn't stay. She's going to start there in 2 weeks. She needs it. I need it. I really hope it will help with her behaviour.

Sometimes I think maybe it is all me. When I take her places like that or over to my sister's, she behaves pretty well. She doesn't bounce, she listens to what she's told and she never stamps her feet or sits there in a huff. She was great today at the new school but as soon as we got in the car, she started hitting her sister and yelling at me about something. Honestly, at this point, I just tune it out.

It's maddening and depressing as hell when I let my mind go down that path and believe me, it's a path it goes down a million times a day. What am I doing wrong? I'm sure I'm screwing her up for life somehow, otherwise she wouldn't behave this way, right? If she can control herself at school and at my sister's, why can't she do it when she's with me? I know she's capable of doing it so why can't she do it all the time?

I was thinking about this last night, when I should have been sleeping but was instead waffling back and forth between beating myself up and wondering if maybe she'd always been like this.

And then I remembered this:

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She's been doing this since she could stand and jump. So maybe it's not just me. Maybe this is just how she is. In a weird way, I kind of hope so because thinking that I've done something to so screw up my own child is a horrible thought to have.

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While I'm Here

Sun, 31 Jan 2010 16:45:00 +0000

I might as well put up a post. This is going to be totally random crappe.

  • I slept in this morning. It was lo-o-o-o-o-ovely.
  • But upon firing up the laptop, I found I'd been spammed on a bunch of old blog posts. I'm thinking of disabling anonymous comments again. I don't get all that much traffic to this site anymore so I doubt it will keep anyone from leaving a comment.
  • I'm wondering if I should bother keeping this up. I don't seem to have much to say any more, unless I'm whinging about something and that gets old. I need to find something to blog about. I wonder if there are blog prompts the way there are writing prompts.
  • I have an interview at Whole Paycheck on Wednesday. I don't know which job would be more dangerous for me; that place or a book shop. Of course, if I got the job, I could maybe afford to shop there more frequently. I do love it so. Wanky cheese. Wanky chocolate. And wine. What could be better?
  • Boo starts the medication part of the behavioural study she's in on Friday. I'm of two minds about it, to be honest. Sometimes I think all she needs is a full time school program. Other times I think she needs an exorcism. Oy.
  • Did I mention I got an iTouch for Christmas? Did I mention that I lo-o-o-o-o-ove it? And that I'm totally addicted to Words With Friends? If you are too, feel free to start a game with me. I think I have about 10 going right now. Hi, my name is Major Bedhead and I'm' a Words With Friends addict. Also? A nerd.

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Why You Shouldn't Clean While Naked

Tue, 19 Jan 2010 13:47:00 +0000

Last night I decided I'd had enough and went upstairs to take a shower.

I'd started to get undressed while waiting for the water to heat up but it was taking forever. As I stood there in my holey t-shirt, I realized that the banister in the hall was absolutely filthy, so I rummaged around under my sink looking for some sort of cleaning implement. I found a baggie with a few ancient baby wipes in them. Perfect. No mess, and baby wipes work great on those grubby little finger prints that my children delight in leaving all. over. the. house.

I was scrubbing away, taking great satisfaction in seeing the white paint again, smirking in an "I'll show you, dirt" kind of way when I stood up.

That's when I realized my naked, white ass had been level with the landing window.

The curtainless landing window.

The curtainless landing window that is about 6 feet away from our neighbor's bathroom window.


I'm never leaving my house again.
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Hanging On By A Thread

Mon, 18 Jan 2010 16:17:00 +0000

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She doesn't listen.

If I tell her not to do something, she does it as soon as the words leave my mouth.

She touches things she's not supposed to touch, like the computer and the camera and the knives.

She poops in her closet.

She wets her bed every night.

She's defiant. She glares and stomps her feet and screams and shrieks at me.

She's destructive. She rips up books and papers and colors on the walls and herself and her sister. She's cut her sister's hair so many times that The Bug has a pixie cut now. She breaks her toys and her crayons and anything she can get her hands on. I can't leave her alone in a room for 30 seconds or she will destroy things.

I cannot handle her at all.

I'm working with a doctor about this and have enrolled her in a study but oh my holy hell, I am losing my mind with this child. She needs full time school or full time day care or something. Something more than I can give her. It depresses the hell out of me that I can't seem to figure this child out.
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Oscar

Fri, 15 Jan 2010 13:08:00 +0000

I got Oscar in early January of 2004. He was adopted from The Baypath Humane SocietyI couldn't believe that someone had turned him in. He was a Persian and gorgeous. Being a Persian, he had that smooshed up face, which made him look extremely crabby all the time. He had been named Licken but I christened him Oscar.Boo loved him.He didn't feel the same about her, but he was patient and rarely swatted at her, even lately, when she would cart him around, front legs flapping around. He'd just look at me with this resigned expression on his face and meow pathetically.He liked sleeping in gift bags and paper bags and cardboard boxes.He was absolutely furious with me when I had to have him shaved due to severe matting. He stalked around the house, glaring at me and shivering as he followed the patches of sun from one spot to another. I laughed at him because, hey, he was funny.A few weeks after we brought him home, I miscarried. I laid on the floor in my living room, not knowing that I was miscarrying, just knowing that my back was killing me and I couldn't move. He'd curl up next to my head, purring and licking my hand. Two days later, when the OB said there was no heartbeat there, I came home and crawled into bed. Oscar jumped up after me and stayed with me while I cried.Even though he was a pain in the ass and would pee on the floor rather than the litter box sometimes, I loved that cat. I put him outside on Wednesday night, so he'd pee outside. Normally, he'd go outside for half an hour, tops, but Wednesday, he didn't come back. I called and called. I went outside to see if I could see him somewhere. Finally, around midnight, I put his cat bed on the back porch and left the door ajar for him. I did the same with the front porch door. Thursday morning, no cat. And today, still no cat. I don't think he's coming back. He's at least ten years old and he's skinny under all that hair.I'm going to miss him. A lot.[...]



Say Hello, Dammit

Thu, 14 Jan 2010 17:40:00 +0000

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I've no idea who started this, but I've seen it all over teh internets today, so I'm jumping on the bandwagon. Sometimes, yes, I am a lemming.

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The Bourdain Thing

Tue, 12 Jan 2010 18:38:00 +0000

Saturday night, my friend TT and I traveled to Lowell to hear Anthony Bourdain speak. I shall pause while you all drool and swoon and squee. All set? OK.

Some of his speech I'd heard before, when he spoke at the Commonwealth Club (they have a pretty cool podcast) but much of it was new. He refrained from dissing Rachel Ray because they have a bit of a truce going now. Honestly, Rachel Ray annoys me a bit, but she seems like a good sport about all the flak she's taken over the years from Bourdain, so kudos to her for not getting into a knot over it.

He spoke about Sandra Lee *shudder* who creeps me right the fuck out - the story was very funny and very self-deprecating. He thinks Guy Fieri is a douche (true) and Adam Richman, of Man vs. Food, isn't getting paid enough for what he has to eat (also true).

What stuck with me the most was what he had to say about being a traveler and how awful most Americans are at it. I agreed with all of it - that you should avoid the restaurants where the tourists are, that you should try the local food; when in Jakarta, don't order gumbo. Eat what the locals are eating. Eat the street food. Try things you haven't tried before, go places that are off the beaten path and really experience the place. Stay away from tour groups.

He took a ton of questions from the audience. Most were predictable - what would your final meal be? (Bone marrow on toast.) What's the best restaurant to go to in city X, Y or Z? (Local places and street food.) But the audience was weird. People were yelling things out, random words and hollers came from every side of the auditorium throughout his speech. And several people tried to shill products to him, including, god help us all, a dessert hummus. (His answer? "Do I look like the kind of guy who eats hummus?") It was really odd.

Overall it was a good talk. Not mind-blowing or anything, but funny and entertaining and a nice way to spend a Saturday night, even if it was in Lowell.

And sadly, aside from a few people who rushed the stage, he didn't do autographs. My boobs, uh, I mean books, are Bourdain-signature-free.
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Squeeeeee!!!

Sat, 09 Jan 2010 15:59:00 +0000

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Thanks to the lovely Velma over at A Smeddling Kiss, I'm going to see Anthony Bourdain tonight at the Lowell Auditorium.

Now, which book should I have him autograph?

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An Update

Thu, 07 Jan 2010 00:27:00 +0000

I got another email. I think I may have overreacted just a bit. Just a teensy, weensy bit. One of these days I'll learn.

The email:

Yikes.. That did not go the way I intended.

Sometimes I have a hard time getting across what I want to say. Between my dyslexia and being very sick since November my writing has become garbage. But I've been sick my whole life so I try to just get on with it.

Sorry my first email came across all wrong. I still think your awesome, and love reading your blog, when it's not about me. And even if some of us find your Twitter style overwhelming many others hang on every word. I was excited to meet you last summer at the BYOR, and hope you find the time to do more around town. The city desperately needs more good people taking an active role. All the Holyokers I know would love to get to know you in person.

P

So yeah.

This would be me right about now:
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Sticks And Stones

Wed, 06 Jan 2010 14:36:00 +0000

I got this email late last night:

Hey Major BedHead,

While sitting at (local Irish bar) last night I brought up the random subject of whether I should stop following "Major Bedhead" on twitter. To which everyone immediately said YES! It was funny because your so well known for being a super tweeter - to the point of annoyance. So I decided I will stop following you. Even though I hate un-friending anyone.

Just thought you should know why I stopped following, and how famous you are around town.

btw, Congrats on becoming a Grandma

P

My initial reaction was to fire off an email saying "Well that's a slap in the face, but whatever floats your boat," so that's what I did. But then I went to bed and started thinking about it.

People in town find me annoying. People who only know me via Twitter. People who I'm not even sure are following me. Nonetheless, they find me annoying.

This, of course, has fueled my paranoia that everyone I know must find me annoying. It makes me want to stay in my house and never talk to anyone again. It's going to make me second guess everything that comes out of my mouth for a while, that's for sure.

I cried about this for a while, which is pathetic. But it stung. Really stung.

This morning I woke up thinking about it. Maybe I do post too often on Twitter. I'm home with two toddlers and a 15 year old all day. For most of the time, the only adult interaction I have is with people on Twitter, so I am guilty of posting on there quite frequently during the day. I can leave the window open and pop on and off while I'm doing things around the house and make a comment or two. Sometimes people respond, sometimes they don't. I like it.

I still think the email was a shitty thing to send. Unfollow me if you want, but to tell me that you're doing it because your friends told you to and that you all find me annoying smacks of junior high school cliquishness. The person who sent the email is really involved in town improvement issues, which was something I was hoping to be able to get into, too, but if this is the way they are, I don't want to now. I tried to play that joining-in game in high school and college and failed at it because I wasn't cool enough or something. I'm too old to do that again. My self-esteem doesn't need the bruising either.

I hate this shit. I hate that my ego is so fragile that something like this sends me into a tailspin. I hate knowing that people find me annoying because that's not my intention at all. Mostly I hate that this has changed my mind about getting involved in town stuff. I was really looking forward to that. I love where I live and I was hoping to help out in some small way with the improvement efforts that are going on.

And whoever wrote that little sticks and stones ditty was full of shit. Words do hurt. A lot.
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These Apples....

Fri, 01 Jan 2010 00:46:00 +0000

That Canadian Boy I Married and I have been together for 10 years tonight. Ten years ago, it was holding hands and kissing and hanging on each others every word. Now it's kids and rent and jobs and chaos.But it's also what seems to me, at least, to be a serious lack of anything in common with each other. Tonight, he's at a house party. I have no desire to sit around with his hockey buddies as they play beer pong and watch sports incessantly. His friends are fine, decent enough people, but I'm not into sports (The Red Sox excepted) and I'm definitely not into beer pong. So we never go out together.I go out on Friday nights, usually, to my friend C's house. I hang out with my sister and a bunch of other people and we laugh and talk politics or current events or get all wanky over word usage and proper grammar (I know - me, who'd have thunk, right?) and I have a great time. When TCBIM has tagged along, he looks out of his element and gets bored. It's how I feel when I hang out with his friends.I'm just not sure how to fix this. I don't even know if it is fixable. We're so different. I geek out over books and historical programs on the television; He's excited over the Winter Classic. I long for a complete, 27 volume set of the OED; TCBIM doesn't even know what that is. He told me the other day that he needs a new hybrid driver. Cue one blank look and crickets. (Apparently, it's a type of golf club.)I don't feel like he should have to change who he is for me, though, because I don't think I should change who I am for him. I don't want him faking an interest in art or books any more than I want to fake an interest in hockey or, god help me, football.It's funny; when I do drag him to a museum or an artists gallery, he enjoys himself. But I have to beg and plead and bug the shit out of him prior to getting him to go. Once he's there, he's into it. We went to Snow Farm in Williamsburg MA a few weeks ago and he loved the things he saw there. We watched a blacksmith work and he was asking the man a ton of questions. I know he has the curiosity and interest in these types of activities but he never seeks them out. He's content to go along on the surface of life, watching television, playing sports and farting around on the computer.I want more, though. I want to go to New York City to see the Tim Burton exhibit. I want to find more cool places like Snow Farm. I want to go to Vermont, to see the Lake Champlain chocolate company and go to the Vermont General Store. I want to go on an antebellum house tour down south. I want to see Frank Lloyd Wright's buildings in Chicago, I want to go to Powell's book store in Portland. And I'd love it if I didn't have to beg and plead for him to want to come with me.Most of all, I want to go back to school. I want to get my bachelor's degree and I want to do it at a good school. Smith College and Mt Holyoke College both have programs for women returning to school and I have sent for information on both of them. I really want to do this so I can learn to write properly, so I can get a good job that will challenge my brain rather than just provide a paycheck. I mainly want to go because I love school. I love learning new things, I love the challenge of it and I love the environment. I want to do this. Hell, I need to do this, for me, so I can be happier with who I am.But I worry that having that will drive us even further apart and that scares me. I need to do it, though. I need to put myself first this time.[...]



Oh, Canada

Tue, 29 Dec 2009 04:53:00 +0000

So we've spent a week in northern Alberta, freezing our asses off and visiting the in-laws. For the most part it was nice. A little dull, but when you're 300 miles north of Edmonton, there's not a lot to do, really. The girls had a good time, though, and That Canadian Boy I Married's parents were thrilled to bits to see us.

I do have a beef to pick with Canada as a country.

I saw a lot of cool things on the endless drive back to Edmonton.

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A wolf. Running along the side of the road. Very cool. I wish The Bug hadn't puked all over my camera - I would have loved to have a picture of it.


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And a guy running a dogsled. Also on the side of the highway. Very cool, in a good-god-I-wouldn't-do-that-in-a-million-years sort of way.

I've also seen a baby black bear.

I saw horses and magpies and oil rigs and lots and lots of snow.

But in all my trips to the Great White North, I have yet to see this:

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And believe me, I've looked.

What the hell, Canada? I think you're lying about the moose. You don't really have any, you just say you do so Yanks like me will keep coming up there, hoping for their own Northern Exposure experience.

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Frozen

Mon, 28 Dec 2009 06:30:00 +0000

I haven't posted here in ages because we were going to visit That Canadian Boy I Married's parents and I don't know if they read this and I didn't want to give the game away but now we're here so now I can post. We surprised his parents with a visit for Christmas.

Oh my holy fucking HELL it's cold up here. And it gets dark at, like 3:30 in the afternoon and the sun doesn't come up until almost 9:30 in the fucking morning and it's insane. In. Sane. I could not live here. I would kill myself. Seriously.

But his parents were so happy to see us and it's been a pretty nice visit, all things considered. The girls were fine with flying - in fact, TCBIM is far worse of a traveler than they are. The girls got snow suits from their grandparents and have been having a blast playing outside in the snotsicle-inducing cold and I haven't had to keep an eye on them at all because hello? Doting grandparents. Fab. U. Lous.

In other news, my son and his wife had their baby on the day we flew to Canada. Which officially makes me a grandmother. If I could figure out how to move photos from my phone to my computer, I'd post them, but suffice it to say, she's adorable (of course) and I can't wait to hold a little, smooshy baby again. I'm looking forward to hitting the Roots store in Edmonton tomorrow so I can get her some cute Canadian gear. (Holy SHIT, I'm a grandmother. Holy shit.)

I'd show pictures of all that's been going on up here but The Bug puked all over my camera on the drive up. I am definitely going to need a new camera soon. It was already in rough shape - now, it's totally screwed up.
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*Head, Wall, Bang* Lather, Rinse, Repeat

Sun, 13 Dec 2009 21:36:00 +0000

This is a sweary, stabby kind of post. You have been warned.

Sweet suffering FUCK, people.

I want to write. Really, I do. I have things I want to say, ideas that are floating around in my head, but I can't write them down. Not because I don't want anyone else to see them but because my girls have gone absolutely BATSHIT CRAZY.

They run. All the time. Everywhere. They jump. They scream, at each other, at the clouds, at the dog, at motes of dust. They make massive messes and scream when I ask them to pick them up. They hit each other, they hug each other, they poke each other in the eyes. They're starving, all the time, even immediately after eating.

It is driving me INFUCKINGSANE..

I spend most of my days repeating myself endlessly. "Stop hitting. Stop jumping. Stop dragging the cat around by his neck. Put your shoes on. Put your pants on. Stop chopping off your hair. Stop sticking beads up your nose. For the love of god and all that is holy, STOP SCREAMING!"

I am losing the will to live.

And in a few days, we have to go on a very, very long trip with them.

Please. Send vodka. Or tranquilizers. Or both.
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Old (ish) (Wo)Man Yells At Cloud

Tue, 01 Dec 2009 06:26:00 +0000

My email was hacked tonight while I was at work. Some sort of "Hey, get a free computer" thing went out to my entire address book. Lovely.

And what did the majority of people write back to me about it? Not "Hey, what the hell, dood?" No. They all said "You would never write something so grammatically incorrect - this has to be spam."

It's official.

I have become my mother.
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Portrait Of A Woman, Slowly Being Driven Insane

Mon, 23 Nov 2009 15:51:00 +0000

My day started awfully early. I have no idea what time she woke up, but The Bug pattered into my room at what-the-fuck o'clock to crawl into bed with me. This is something that happens three or four nights a week and I am sick of it. I bought some melatonin to give to each girl before bed, but so far, it doesn't seem to be keeping them asleep.

Boo woke up just before 7 a.m. and before I could stumble into her room, had peed all over the floor. I don't know what this is - she's going to be five in a couple of days and has been potty trained for two years now. But the last couple of months, she wets the bed a couple of times a week and has peed on the floor several times, too. It's not diabetes - I've had her tested.

After breakfast, The Bug had to pee, too, and went into the bathroom. She peed on the floor rather than on the toilet. So I've cleaned up pee twice today, all before 8 a.m..

That Canadian Boy I Married and I had a spat this morning, too, which didn't do anything to help my mood.

Finally, I was walking into the kitchen with some dishes that had been left in the living room and slipped. The Bug had put a glass of orange juice on the floor, which I kicked over - because, really, I didn't expect there to be a glass there, plus I had my hands full. I went ass over teakettle, dropping the dishes and sliding into a dining room chair, which fell on top of me. I was covered in orange juice and whatever was in the glass I was carrying.

Needless to say, after cleaning all the crap off the floor, I went upstairs and took a shower and had a bit of a woe-is-me sniffle under the water.

I desperately need to get a full time job. This stay-at-home shit is going to be the death of me.


(And if anyone could tell me what to do to fix the template on this thing, I'd be eternally grateful. It's a mess.)
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Better

Tue, 17 Nov 2009 04:55:00 +0000

Things are a lot better between me and That Canadian Boy I Married. We've talked a lot and he hasn't been talking to the other girl and it all seems better. I have restrained myself from checking his email to see if anything is going on because, frankly, it was fucking with my head and not doing me any good whatsoever.

I don't have much more to add, other than I'm cautiously (very cautiously) optimistic that things may work out. That's my hope. I think.

Could I be any more confused? No. I didn't think so. Stay tuned. Things may change at the drop of a hat, as they tend to do around here.



In other news, New England Mamas blog is starting up again and I'm going to do food blogging there so if you have any recipes you want me to test and post about, feel free to email them to me. I think my email is in the side thingummy over there but if not, leave a comment and I'll get in touch.
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Still....

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 13:30:00 +0000

He's still talking to the woman in Bulgaria.

He's changed the passwords to his email and Facebook accounts.

I will have one more conversation about this and then I think I'm going to be done. He seems to be incapable of stopping and he seems to be going to some lengths to hide this from me, which does not bode well nor does it make me want to trust him even a little bit.

I really thought we'd had a good conversation about this last week, that I'd made my point and gotten it thru to him but apparently not. I'm not going to try to keep something alive if he's not going to reciprocate.(image)



The Talk

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 00:31:00 +0000

We had a long talk the other night about this whole mess. He's still claiming he doesn't remember taking or sending those pictures. He also doesn't think there's anything wrong with the conversations he's been having with this woman in Bulgaria. I am finding myself very suspicious of them because they all contain lots of hugs and love you's and comments about how beautiful she is. To me, that's a bit more than friendship.

He claims that because he writes it as "luv you" it doesn't mean anything. Seriously. I laughed when he said that. Does he think this girl is going to differentiate? Especially when he calls her sugar, honey and love elsewhere in the messages? I know I wouldn't if it were me getting those messages.

It bugs the shit out of me that he calls her sugar. That's what he calls me.

I can't figure out if he's being sly as a fox or stupid as a box of rocks. He looks me right in the eye and tells me nothing's going on, that it's in Bulgaria, for god's sake, and that I'm an idiot if he thinks he moved all the way down here just to throw it away for some girl he's never met and I want to believe him but I can't.

I don't know if this is me and my issues or if I'm right in not believing what he's saying. I just have a hard time thinking that the tone of these messages is nothing. If it were me getting messages like that, I'd think that this guy was really into me. I don't get how he doesn't see that. Or if he's just trying to blow smoke up my ass and make me question my own already-shaky sanity.(image)



Another Fine Mess

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 17:19:00 +0000

I kind of don't know what to say about all of this. It's a little embarrassing to talk about but since I was all over Twitter about it last weekend, I guess I should blog about it so I can use more than 140 characters.

I was using my husband's computer last Friday night and found some lengthy correspondence between him and another woman. It wasn't raunchy but the tone was very tender and caring and intimate in a non-physical way. So I started poking around. Caveat - for the last five years, he's always told me to go thru his email and phone if I ever had doubts about him. He did this once before, you see, when I was pregnant with Boo. This is why I was poking around. He's been spending an inordinate amount of time on the computer, on Facebook and MSN chat and I was starting to wonder what was going on.

I found pictures he'd sent of himself to a different woman. Naked pictures and she'd sent some back to him. I confronted him about it and he claims he has no memory of taking or sending them.

Uh huh.

I don't even know where to go with this. How can he have no memory of it? He said maybe he was drunk when he did it and if that is the case (which I seriously doubt), then we have a whole other issue to deal with. Had he had that much to drink, he would have been sick the next day and he was fine.

I haven't had much time to discuss this with him because our schedules never overlap and it's not really something I want to discuss while he's at work or in front of the kids. I'm going to have to schedule a meeting with him.

It's all so ridiculous and pathetic and I'm so sick of being disappointed.

There's a part of me that just wants to give up, to get my own apartment and be alone, with my kids, for a long, long time. It would be peaceful. It would be a lot less work that this shit. I wouldn't have my heart out there, getting stomped on time and time again. I think I'd like that.(image)



You Are Missed

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 17:45:00 +0000

No. Nothing dramatic or even note-worthy. Just stuff I miss. A lot. In fact, it may be that I am a bit obsessed.The best political drama show ever. EVER.My favourite way to ward off bad juju.I mean, come on, who puts Gilbert & Sullivan on a political show? Aaron Sorkin, that's who.*sigh* Oh, Cicely, Alaska, how I wish you were real.The first episode of Northern Exposure I ever watched. It was so fucked up and weird that I had to keep watching.And finally, even though I mocked those who watched it when it was on television, I have now become a convert. How I wish there were more.I loathed this episode when I first saw it, but it's really grown on me....This is my favourite episode. It's scary as hell and full of awesome.The theme. The band is called Nerf Herder, which makes my inner geek grin.(Also, Fox kind of sucks balls for taking down clips from the show - I couldn't find 90% of what I was looking for.)[...]



Wrath

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 02:55:00 +0000

Oh hi. I didn't realize it had been 30 days since I last posted. Blame this guy. He keeps egging me on.Anyway, an update: the drinking thing has tapered off. I don't do it every night, like I was doing. When I do drink, I keep track of how much I've had and I stop when I get that buzzy, fuzzy feeling and I go to bed or switch to water. I feel much more in control. I'm not going to over analyze that right now - I have a lot going on and I don't feel so overwhelmed by the need for a drink, so at the moment, I think I'm good. That may change. It may not. We shall see.But the wrath thing. This is one of the seven deadly sins, no? Not that I believe in religion but I've been listening to my friends' podcast and they've been covering those sins on there. Their most recent one covers wrath.And oh mah holy hell, do I feel some wrath lately.Some of it is at my husband. I've covered this before, the not doing what he says he's going to do, the staying out until all hours of the night a couple of nights a week, the complete and utter lack of help around the house. I'm sort of done with bitching about that. I'm still pissed as hell, but I feel like it's been well and truly covered here.No, my most recent wrath is directed at our politicians. I am totally pissed off about the lack of the public option in the latest health care bill. I watched Keith Olbermann last night (10-1) and was sputtering with rage when I heard about the Baucus amendment to the bill, allowing fines and/or jail time for anyone who doesn't get health insurance. Does he have any idea what it costs to get health insurance on your own? We pay over $1000 a month out of my husband's paycheck to have health insurance. Buying it on our own would cost exponentially more - $18,000 a year was the last figure I got. We can no longer see O's endocrinologist in Boston because they won't cover her. I pay $100 a month for her insulin and $70 a month for my medications. My therapist isn't covered at all, so I pay that completely out of pocket and my therapist, whom I love, has tried time and time again to get on my insurance. I'm not going to switch therapists.And now they want to fine people???? What the fucking fuck? Really? Do they think this is going to help anyone?What is so bad about a public option? What's so horrible about Medicaid? I fill a ton of prescriptions at the pharmacy for people on Medicaid. They are getting top of the line drugs for nothing or for a $4 co-pay. These aren't generic drugs, either. They are brand name drugs sometimes.Why can't this be available to everyone? Why must this continue this way? Why are our elected officials more beholden to the insurance industry than they are to their constituents? We elect them. Shouldn't they be listening to us?Senator Boehner says he's never heard of one person who wants the public option. I need his address so I can give him a piece of my wrath-filled mind.[...]



Lush Life

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 17:37:00 +0000

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I really think it's time I stopped drinking. I'm not sure how to do this, but I need to, before I turn into a raging alcoholic rather than the functioning one I seem to have become.

I'm not sure how I'm going to do this, I just know I need to and it's scaring the shit out of me.
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