Moments Frozen In Time

Every generation has a moment.

Time stands still and imprints the moment on your psyche like a photograph. You can remember exactly where you were, what you were doing, who was there. When it dawned on you that the world had suddenly shifted beneath your feet. And I remember - very clearly - the first time this happened for me.

Tomorrow marks the 25th anniversary of the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster. In 1986, Challenger lifted off from Cape Canaveral in Florida into a cloudless, clear blue sky. Among her crew was social studies teacher Christa McCauliffe who was to teach the first ever lesson from space.

72 seconds later, Challenger became a ball of fire against that cloudless, clear, blue Florida sky. Pieces of it rained down into the ocean. All seven members of her crew died instantly. (There is some question as to how long the crew actually survived after the initial breakup, but I can't bear to think about that so in my mind, it was over before they knew it.) Challenger Disaster

The world sat in stunned silence.

I was freshman in high school sitting in my Freshman English Class - Literature of Conflict and Survival - with Mr. Schmaing. Mrs. Snoddy, the attendance office lady came to the door with a note. Mr. Schmaing read it to himself, raised his considerable eyebrows above his glasses, turned to us and said, "I don't know if any of you care, but the space shuttle just blew up."

And twenty or so 15-year-olds sat for a few moments in  stunned silence. And then returned to our discussion of Alas, Babylon. Ironically, set in Florida.

The next time I have a clear and vivid memory of where, what, who and when was September 11, 2001.

Again with the beautiful, clear, blue sky that in a moment was shattered.

Every generation has a moment like that.

For my parents, it was a beautiful November day in Dallas. My grandparents, a December day in Hawaii.

I wonder what my children's moment will be and I pray that it will be a moment of great joy instead of shattering sorrow.

Defining Chronically Ill and Flipping the Bird

How do I explain to people who are very rarely acutely ill what it's like to be chronically ill? I get attitude sometimes from people in my life who think I should just be able to get over it, snap out of it, work through it and pull myself up by my bootstraps.

If only it were that simple.

Let's start with some definitions. From the Microsoft Encarta Dictionary:

Chronic(ally): 1) describes a long-lasting illness; 2) always present; 3)habitual.

Ill: 1) unwell; 2) resulting in harm, pain or trouble; 3) unkind or unfriendly; 4) unfavorable; 5) morally bad.

A couple of things jump out at me so here's MY definition of chronically ill: a long-lasting, always present, unkind and unfriendly state of being.

And that definition reflects not only how I feel physically, but how a present myself to the world at large - unwell, unkind, unfriendly, unfavorable. Bad.

It's hard to be nice when you always feel like you've just been run over by a truck. It's hard to be charming when the simple act of smiling causes pain.

I find it interesting that the times when I feel the worst, are also the times I feel the most like writing about it. Not because I want to publicly whine about how awful my life is (I have a private journal and a sponsor for that - neither of which let me get away with whining for long) but because talking about it, writing about it, putting it out there is a lot like shining sunlight on a vampire - it shrivels up and ceases to exist.

And even though it sometimes hurts to laugh, it helps to find some humor in it. Learning to laugh about all the things that are wrong with me has done almost more than medication has in helping me keep my sanity.

As an example, my hands, wrists and fingers have been paining my especially bad the last couple of days. So, I posted the following to my Facebook status:

Lana D wishes her hands would get the memo to stop hurting. It is seriously interfering with my ability to flip people off.

And if you have done much driving on the streets of Havre the last few days, you know what a necessity that ability is!!

Just Another Drunk

I had a light bulb moment the other night after I posted about my obsession with my friend "Anonymous." Yes, I of course, obsessed some more. Okay, so it was less like a light bulb over my head than it was a ton of bricks falling on my head. And here's the conclusion I have come to.

It's the addict in me - that desperate need to fill the "gut level empty" with something, anything. When I drank, I could fill it with booze and - although temporary - that emptiness would go away. It would inevitably return - bigger, deeper, and emptier than before - and would require more and more to get it to go away.

People who know me but didn't know about my drinking problem often ask me why I go to AA. They say things like "I never thought you drank THAT much." Or, "But you never got in any trouble because of it." Well, friends and neighbors, that is only by the Grace of a God whose love I cannot begin to fathom. I never did much drinking in public. I did mine at home, behind closed doors where no one could see me. And was pretty determined to NEVER admit - to myself or anyone else - that I had a problem.

And so, the worse I got, the worse my choice in partner's became because I needed someone I could point to and say that's what an alcoholic does. Or that's what an addict looks like. I don't do that and I don't look like that so I don't have a problem. I don't have a single DUI let alone 11. I've never been in a fight in a bar. I've never been arrested blah blah blah blah.

I did whatever it took so that I could stay up on my high horse. And I damn sure was not about to admit to the FSS that - really - I was exactly the same as him. Just not as public.

Just because you couldn't see it, didn't see it, didn't know about it doesn't mean I don't need to be exactly where I'm at.

So. I don't know. I think I had a point. Let's see if we can find it again.

Oh, yeah. Anonymous Comment.

Obsessing for him/her is the drunk in me trying to fill the empty that I have allowed to creep back into my soul. And I don't think knowing who "Anonymous" is would help.

Because?

Because there are really only two outcomes here. I would either be disappointed that it's not who I think I want it to be.

Or, it is. And that would seriously feed the obsession much more than quell it.

Anonymity Makes Me a Little Nervous

I get a little nervous when I get "anonymous comments." Even when they're good. I want to know who's out there thinking about me. Because when I don't, I obsess over who it might be. 


Who are they? Why don't they want me to know that they think I should be brave, keep looking forward and never back? How do they know I've been burned too many times?


And then my imagination goes into overdrive. Wondering who it might be......thinking about who I would want it to be......do I already know this person? Do they obsess over me as much as I obsess over them? Yeah. No. I think I'm a pretty cool chica but, I sincerely doubt I'm keeping anyone up at night (except, that is, for the Former Supposed Spouse and the Drunk Dialer). Or lookin' for me in the grocery store, for that matter.


And on and on it goes. Keeps me up at night, distracts me during the day. Maybe it wouldn't bother me so much if I didn't know it required conscious action to post an anonymous comment.


??????


I don't know.


At any rate, to my Anonymous friend.....


Thanks. And you're right. And I will. Be brave.

Wildly Impressed with the Cable Guy

Last week, I ordered up satellite tv service because I was - let's call it disappointed - with our local cable tv company. I was initially disappointed that it would be a whole week before we would have it. And anyone who's made an installation appoint is familiar with the "someone will be there between the hours of this and that." My time slot was between 8 a.m. and 12 noon.

Let me just say, my technician called me at 2 minutes to 8, parked in front of my house, ready to get started!

Yay!! We should have t.v. again within the hour!!

Do Bad Pennies Automatically Mean Bad News?

Ever notice that some people just keep turning up? Like bad pennies? 


I'm gonna have to stop going to the grocery store at 5:00 because, besides the obvious (too many people, not enough cashiers, etc.), I keep running into this one particular person. And ordinarily it wouldn't bother me because i don't know him really well and what I do know of him, I'm not particularly impressed with. He's kind of a cocky little fuck. Of course, the only contact I have ever had with him has been while in the company of the FSS (former supposed spouse). Oh yeah, and the Drunk Dialer. And there's really not a lot of love lost between either of them and this person.


Once upon a time, about 150 years ago - think it was the second time the FSS landed himself in jail - he answered a personal add that I had placed. (He had placed one too - think it was shortly after he and his wife had split.) Nothing ever came of it. But now every time I see him, I remember that.


And given my current state of mind - all those thoughts swimming about that I talked about last time - that's probably not such a good thing. It makes me wonder though. I only know him through my FSS's point of view. And as I mentioned, there is NO love lost between them. And in the last few months of all my soul-searching and inward reflection I have learned that I am entitled to my own opinions about people. That just because the FSS doesn't like someone, it doesn't mean I automatically don't get to like them.


So I find myself doing things a little differently. For example, I try NOT to go to the grocery store at that time of day in my pajama pants. And if my hair is bad (it's a good thing it's winter) I wear my funky winter hat. And if it's not cold enough to warrant a hat, I take a minute to fluff and spray. Use the "old lady cream" that has a touch of foundation in it so I don't look so much like death warmed over. Maybe even some lip gloss.


And I guess even if he doesn't notice or care, it's all good either way. Because I've also noticed that when I don't LOOK like death warmed over, I don't FEEL so much like it either.


Happy lip glossing this bright and shiny brand new year!

Somewhere, Anywhere......Someone, Not Just Anyone

I'm stealing the "somewhere anywhere" line from my fellow blogger Tammy over at Queen-Sized Funny Bone (http://queen-sized.blogspot.com/). 


I didn't realize that I have the very same wish for 2011 until I read her post. I want to go somewhere, anywhere but here. Not to stay. Just to visit. Even if it's just for the weekend. Hell even just a Saturday-come-back-Sunday thing. Just go somewhere and do something fun. Wear my high heels again.


With someone. In particular. Who has an annoying habit of being quite charming. When he's not calling at "a quarter after one." Or, maybe he just knows me too well and simply knows exactly which buttons to push.


Cabin fever I think it's called. That feeling of having been cooped up for far too long and the intense need to be out of the confines of my room, my house, my mind. Maybe. Lots of thoughts rolling around up in there and not all of them are good ones. Safe ones. Smart ones. Sure would be fun though.


But once again, I am confronted with the question of where would it lead. Why start something - again - that very probably isn't going to end well. Again.

Time Flies When You're.......Well, Time Just Flies

I apologize, gentle readers for the rather serious gap since I last posted.

I have found myself in something of a slump yet again and am having a difficult time pulling myself out of it. I blame it on the Holidays.

I love the Holiday season. Good food. Family. Friends. Celebrations. But, yet again this year, my FSS (Former Supposed Spouse) is absent from us. And, even though the general consensus is that we (myself and my children) are better off without him, I still found myself missing him terribly. I did my best to occupy my time and my thoughts. And for the most part, was successful. I have for several years done baking for other people - the fancy little pain-in-the-ass Norwegian treats that no one wants to mess with anymore - lefse, fattigmand, sandbakkles, krumkakke, and rosettes - and I seem to be quite talented at candy making so I make fudge and glazed nuts and peanut brittle and divinity. And real gingerbread men with royal icing. And rolled out sugar cookies and lots and lots of other favorites from my childhood that only got made at Christmas time. And those activities kept me busy from about Thanksgiving until the day before Christmas. And for a few days now I've been plunking away at my new website - www.goodthingsbylana.com.

But now the hustle and bustle have died down a bit. The quiet is settling in again. My oldest son went to Helena to spend a week with his dad. So, it's just me and Bug. And here comes New Years. And who am I going to kiss at midnight?

The FSS's aunt died the Monday before Christmas. Almost 30 years to the day that her husband proposed to her. I had the privilege of knowing her. She was a lovely woman. Generous and kind. And she will be missed.  She lived in Utah, but I find myself being the one to organize the posting of the obituary in our local paper. And comfort my former supposed mother-in-law. And that's okay. It gives me something to focus on besides my lonesome, lost, self-pitying self.

2011 has got to be better.

Strange Days

Today has really been an odd mix of emotions. Happy, sassy, sad, nostalgic, guilty. Ended up with a little bit unsettled.

Last night I went to a 40th birthday party for a girl I graduated high school with. And I wore my "sassy girl" shoes...

And danced my feet off, and had a blast. It was like a mini-reunion of the D.E.C.A. Club! I missed the 20th high school reunion so it was absolutely awesome to see all these girls again.

Then I think I spent a little too long on Facebook. I happened upon a page that one of my classmates put up as a memorial to all the classmates who are no longer with us on this Earth. One in particular made me cry.

He and I were never friends. In fact, just the opposite. There were only harsh words between us. One night I got so angry that I said something particularly evil. And when he died our sophomore year, I felt tremendously guilty for having said it.

I went to his funeral. I seem to remember that the school gave anyone who wanted to go permission to miss classes. I think that the halls of HHS were probably deserted that day. I was sitting in the church that was packed to the rafters. Some days later, one of his best friends who knew the whole story, who had also chased me and my friends through the streets of our hometown, heard JR and I call each other every name in the book and who heard the very last thing I ever said to JR before he died - told me that my being there was one of the coolest things he'd ever seen.

So.

How do I make amends to those people I have harmed that are no longer on this Earth? It's taken me a while but I have learned that once hateful words are spoken, you CANNOT take them back. Once the damage is inflicted, the wound might heal but the scar will always be there. The only way to "fix" it is to not say it in the first place. All I can do is do better than I have in the past and live my life in a way that reflects that.

Living amends, my sponsor calls them. So, JR, if you are up there listening, I'm sorry for what I said to you that night so long ago. I've never said those words to anyone else since. Know that the people who knew you well and loved you still think about you often.

My Higher Power has been bringing many things and people back into my consciousness these days. I have an amends on my list that I did not think I would ever be able to make. And when I saw his name, I sent a friend request and a message. I told him that if he didn't respond, it was okay. I could understand why he wouldn't. But that I owe him some amends if he was willing to listen.

That friend request was accepted today. And that's a bit unsettling. I've been thinking about what I want to say. What I need to say. And how the HELL can I possibly say ANYTHING that would matter or that he would care to hear.

I will be consulting my sponsor on this one. And my Higher Power. I know that if I ask for His guidance, the words will come. What the person does with them is out of my control.

Interesting.......and a little unsettling..

I was looking though my page view stats for the week and found a couple of interesting things.

11 page views came from Pakistan. 3 from India. A couple from Slovenia. Most were from the US and Canada which I expected, and the few from the UK and the rest of Europe, okay, maybe. I know some of my Facebook peeps are there.

Pakistan? India? Really? Interesting.

I guess I'm global. And I'm not sure how I feel about that. Duh. It is called the WORLD WIDE WEB after all.

Shoes Always Fit

My FSS always was cussing about the number of pairs of shoes I have in my closet.

Part of this is a guy thing - they just don't get the need for more than one pair for work, one pair for fun and one pair for funerals.

And I'm not saying that I require one pair of shoes for every outfit....although, my collection IS dangerously close to that.....but a person needs options! I like my flats, I like my slip-on tennies, I LOVE my fuzzy Crocs (even though I had vowed at one point to never own a pair of Crocs, I got a pair last year for Christmas and I LOVE THEM!!) I like my heels when I'm feeling sassy and know I don't have to spend a really long time on my feet because let's face it - fashion can be painful. I have, however, found a solution for the high-heel=pain problem... WEDGES!! At last a shoe that makes me feel tall, and sexy and doesn't hurt my feet. (My knees give out long before my feet do.)

But for me, shoes are about more than just fashion. I have an addictive personality, so, when I find things that make me feel good, I have a predisposition to go a little overboard. Doesn't really matter what it is - food, drugs, booze, men, clothes.....and shoes. And here's why......

I'm also a person who struggles with her weight - up, down, up, down, UP, down - all my life. So, when I turn to food to make me feel better, it just makes me fatter. And all the clothes that once made me feel good, no longer fit and I have to go back downstairs and pull out the fat girl wardrobe.

Drugs and booze have made my life spin out of control in ways too numerous to recount here. But if you've been following along, you get the idea.

Men only break my heart. And generally when that happens, it sets in motion the whole food-fat girl-booze-drugs mess all over again.

But....

Shoes always fit. Through all the men, through all the ups and downs of my weight, throughout my struggles with the bottle.......my feet (and my shoe size) have always remained the same. (Not so much through the pregnancies, but that's to be expected!)

So, my shoes always fit. The simple act of slipping on a particular pair of shoes makes me feel better. There are memories attached to each pair of shoes. The copper slip-ons with the medium wedge I bought for $5 and wore to the interview that landed me my job. The black Bear Traps ballet slippers I bought of the clearance rack at work because the shoes I had on that day just weren't going to be possible all day long! The Aerosoles that I bought in two colors because I was working two jobs and was on my feet sometimes 18 hours a day.

Wedding shoes, funeral shoes, red shoes, sparkly shoes, heels, flats - even a pair of come-fuck-me boots. (Might have to wear those this Friday!)

So please guys - don't ask us to part with our shoes willy nilly. It's not just about the shoes. It's a part of who we are!

Terminal Uniqueness & Some Promises

Most people who know me, or who have been paying any attention at all over the last few months, already know this, but in case you just joined the party or have been blissfully unaware.....

My name is Lana and I am an alcoholic. And like lots of other alcoholics, I suffer from "terminal uniqueness." That's the notion that no one else in the world is going through the same things I am. No one else in the world has my unique set of circumstances to deal with and that's why I have lots of good reasons why I should be allowed to remain stuck in my self-pity and complacency.

The reality is that EVERYONE - alcoholic or not, sober or not - has that EXACT same thought. When I am sitting in a meeting, there is NOTHING unique about me. I'm just another drunk trying to not be a drunk anymore and hangin' on like HELL to the idea that if I do what is suggested, there really IS a better life.

One of my favorite passages in my Big Book are The Promises. I remember the very first time I heard them, which meeting I was in, and who read them. It was the same meeting that I "came out" of the alcoholic closet. (Thanks Elena. I will never forget you.)

"If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half-way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will instinctively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.

Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us - sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them."
(Alcoholics Anonymous, p 83-84)

There's a couple of biggies in there for me.

"We will not regret the past, nor wish to shut the door on it." I have a truckload of shit that is regrettable. And I lived for a long time mired down in that regret and sorrow. And when you add those two things together - regret and sorrow - you get self-pity. And that provides countless excuses to stay sick.

"No matter how far down the scale we have gone..." I used to think that my only problem with alcohol was the OTHER PEOPLE in my life who drank. And I was REALLY good at surrounding myself with people who drank way more than I did. That way I could say things like "Well, I don't drink everyday, so I'm not an alcoholic." Or, "I've never got so drunk I've blacked out." Or "I've never been arrested." Or I don't even have ONE D.U.I. let alone ELEVEN." SO I AM NOT AN ALCOHOLIC!!!! I just have lousy taste in spouse type people.

Well. Hmmm. Now I realize that none of those things are required for membership in the drunk club. In fact the ONLY requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking. (And I tried to do it myself and found I could not. People were complaining. "Jesus Christ! Have a drink already and calm the FUCK down.") And, incidentally, most of those "milestones" that I was sooooo proud I had not achieved? Yeah, they've all happened over the last couple years. The only one I don't have is the D.U.I. And that is ONLY by the Grace of a God whose power and love I cannot begin to understand. And it's one I can live without! (The D.U.I. I can live without, not the Grace and Love.)

"God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves." And God is definitely working in my life these days. It is a bit unsettling how many names there are that are on both my 4th Step Inventory and my Facebook Friends list. My sponsor - an awesome lady - tells me that's God bringing my "wreckage" back into my consciousness so that I can clear it away.

"If we work for them." And I guess that's the point of the whole Blog exercise. This is me, working for my Promises, telling the world what is was like, what happened, and what it's like now.

Middle of the Night Sleep Deprived Ramblings...

It's the middle of the night and I was well on my way to being fully asleep until my stupid dog decided she had to go outside RIGHT NOW!! Now I'm wide awake again and my feet are cold again. They were cold earlier - even my super thick Columbia socks weren't doing the job - but when I crawled into bed and pulled the extra blanket on, they finally warmed up. I don't know about anybody else but if my feet are cold, I'm cold all over.

And I hate being cold because it makes me hurt all over - muscles, joints, all the way down to my bones until I just want to curl up in a ball and cry. Montana is definitely not the right climate to be in with a chronic pain disorder. When it's warmer, I do so much better. Sigh. Maybe someday I'll be able to move to Mexico for the coldest part of the year like a friend of mine did. But, not anytime soon.

Guess I will have to just double up the socks, drag out the long undies, and pile on the extra blankets.

This Time of Year

I love Thanksgiving. I have so many good memories of family dinners. My dad comes from a family of ten kids so when we have family dinners, we have family dinners!

I remember one year my Grandma was having 21 people for dinner and only had ONE can of black olives. My cousin Jon took 10 of them (one for each finger) and had eaten half of them before anyone noticed.

I cooked Thanksgiving dinner for the Drunk Dialer and his dad and brother in a TINY one bedroom apartment with an oven about half the regulation size. (Yeah, I'm just that good!!)

There seems to be a lot of things triggering walks down memory lane lately. Most of them are things long forgotten. But good things. Bittersweet things about people who are no longer with me on this Earth. And funny things like the very first time I ever met my Former Supposed Spouse.

At Cocktails. (Some of you might remember Cocktails. Some of you might remember it as The Padded Cell. Or Shamrocks. Or the Havre Daily Lounge. Or maybe even all of the above. I remember Cocktails (and it's owner) quite fondly.) Anyway, on a Saturday afternoon, with a good buzz on both of us, the FSS looks me up and down and wants to know can he see my tits. So very charming, right?

What would have been our 7th "anniversary" is coming up on the 30th of this month. I have a lot of anger towards him right now. But there are lots of good memories too.

I'm not sure what's up with all the trips down memory lane. I'm going with the idea that it's because I'm turning 40 in ten days. And I'm sober. And I've rebuilt my faith in a Power Greater Than Myself. And I think that Higher Power is bringing things into my consciousness to show me where the wreckage is that needs to be cleared away.

It's like a "spoonful of sugar" thing. The good memories make the bad ones easier to take.

Just a Quick Update....

I know you're all waiting with baited breath to know whether or I not I pushed the button....

Yes. I did. And we had a nice chat.

A Need To Purge The Memory(ies) - Good, Bad, Horrific, and Otherwise

As promised M, here's the back story on the Drunk Dialer.

A little background on me, first, I think. I was something of a late bloomer when it came to boys. First kiss was at 15, first REAL kiss was the summer before my Senior year and was a bit confusing. (Yes, there's a back story there, too, but that's one for another day. And no, it wasn't a girl, so keep your minds out of the gutter!! lol) I also lost my virginity the summer before my Senior year. It was literally with "the boy next door." Okay, the boy across the street and down a few houses. And yeah, he was the football star, and in the band, and choir and drama and and and ...... and I remember being so amazed that he "liked" me too. And, of course, there were complications. He was dating someone else. And one of my best good friends had a GINORMOUS crush on him. (LK from the bottom of my heart, I am so very sorry I did that to you. I wouldn't have done that to one of my girlfriends and so I don't know why I didn't know it wasn't okay to do that to you. This one falls in the horrific category.)

And so, immediately afterwards, I was branded a slut. And I guess I spent the next several years doing my damnedest to live up to that label. I think I accomplished that and then some. But, I digress.

The first time I set eyes upon my Drunk Dialer (DD), he was moving out of his house and divorcing his wife. The only reason I was there was because I was chasing after one of the guys (also married) that was helping D.D. move out. No idea who he was, didn't care, but I was a girl and I was there and someone identified me and so that was really all the psycho ex-wife needed to know to decide that I was REALLY after D.D.

A couple of weeks later, we were all at the Corner Bar and I noticed the D.D. noticing me. And he was kinda cute, in a goofy sort of way - tall, skinny, MaGoo glasses - but he had a great smile and a nice laugh and every muscle on him was rock hard. And we flirted a little. But I got run out of the bar by the one ass hole in the bar who gave a crap that I wasn't 21. And that was that.

Until one night a few weeks later. I'm out cruising (an activity that apparently no one engages in anymore - sad really. So many good times!!) and he's out cruising and we pass each other a few times and I wave and smile a few times and then he stops. And when I drove by again, he waved me over to stop and talk. And I did. And then we cruised together for a while and then......the psycho ex-wife spotted us together. And chased us and tried to run us off the road and ended up running her own car into the ditch.

Yeah. That should have been the only clue I needed to RUN in the OPPOSITE direction.

But no. Tell me I can't have something and I just want it all the more.

So we kept seeing each other. Kept sneakin' around. We spent many a hot summer night in the little attic room he had at his buddy's house. And by that fall we were living together. And I was head over heels in love with him. We both made promises that we ended up not keeping. And the psycho bitch made life a living hell for me.

Was it worth it? I don't know. I know he was my first TRUE, REAL, DEEP love and that never really goes away. I know I'm not the scared little girl I was 20 years ago. I know I've been through 20 years of crazy shit and that changes a person. I'm sober. And THAT is definitely different. I know I'm all stocked up on crazy these days and don't really need anymore. What good would it do to go back there? I think it would just fan the flames of the fire I'm already going down in.

Even still. Here I sit with my phone open, his number on the screen. All I need to do is push talk.

Drunk Dialer Dillema

The drunk dialer has his very own ring so I know it's him even before I look at the caller ID.

Do I answer it? Or do I let it ring and let him think I'm sleeping?

There's history there. We know each other. Very well. We lived together for a while And it would be nice to have someone to snuggle up to for a while. But that's just it, I think. It's only for a while. He's never going to be a part of my life they way I want someone to be. People keep telling me, "You can't go back again."

But really? We tried to once and I screwed it up. And when I tried to patch things up and pick up where we left off, he turned me down. And I was pissed about that. But now I realize that I needed some time by myself to figure out what I want and what I need.

And probably what I need is not a "drunk dialer" who only calls in the middle of the night when he's lonely and horny. But, like I said. We know each other. It's easy. It's familiar. It's good. And he does love to snuggle.

If Only....

If only the kids would go to bed so that I could.

If only I could afford a maid.

If only I could afford my rent.

If only I could afford ANYTHING!

If only I had my washer and dryer on the main floor instead of in the basement.

If only my former supposed spouse (FSS) hadn't been arrested for his 11th DUI. (Yep, that's right. ELEVEN!!)

If only the other jack-ass that I was married to before would dro..... no wait, better not say it 'cuz then he will just because I said it.

If only the other jack-ass that I was married to before wasn't such a jack-ass.

If only I was gettin' some on a regular basis....yeah, I know, too much information. But it really does do wonders for my mood. For a minute.

If only there was such a person as Prince Charming, or McDreamy, or a Knight In Shining Armour.

If only I didn't wish there was such a person as ..... all of the above.

If only.

That's a lot of  'If only's.' Probably too many.

I also have a lot of blessings in my life.  For example, I am no longer married to Jack-Ass #1 or the FSS. (One of these days, I'll explain why I call him the Former Supposed Spouse.) And I am free to 'get some' whenever I want. (Shhh...don't tell my sponsor! I'm not done with my steps yet!) And I'm not giving up the notion that I will find my own McDreamy (or McSteamy, either one will work). Prince Charming and Mr. Knight? Well, not so much. They all start out that way, but they all end up only human in the end. Hmmmm. Maybe I should START with that notion in the first place.

It's early still and the kids will go to sleep. Eventually. (I add the eventually because an enormous THUD just emanated from their room. So they are UP TO SOMETHING but no one is crying so I guess all is well.)

And, at least I HAVE a washer and dryer and don't have to schlep laundry to the laundromat. Yeah, that's not a fun way to spend a Saturday. Or a Sunday. Or any other day for that matter. I rather enjoy being able to throw in a load at 2 in the morning if I want to. (I doubt my roommate appreciates it since he sleeps right next to the laundry room, but he's a big dork anyway. Besides, he knew I was a psycho night-owl when he moved in here. AND, he took off for Minnesota for who knows how long, didn't tell me, didn't pay any rent for this month and left his psycho cat that hates me here.)

So what's my point. I'm sure I had one. Once.

Oh yeah. I may have a lot of things that could be better. But I also have an awful lot that could be much, MUCH worse. Yeah, there's that fuckin' gratitude again!! And just when I was REALLY starting to enjoy feeling sorry for myself, dammit!

Common Courtesy & The Fridge Fiasco

Common courtesy it seems has gone the way of common sense.

Case in point, the great refrigerator fiasco of 2010.

My best friend recently lost a refrigerator to an untimely demise. (That's another rant for another day - the fact that things are not made the way they used to be.)

So, $650 to replace the condenser that "shit the bed." Or $800 for a sparkly, shiny, brandy new one. Hmmmm. Might as well be $8 million as her pocket doesn't even contain $8 let alone $800. So The Friends come up with a plan to get her one to get her by. For $100 bucks. Again, might as well be, yadda yadda yadda - same story as above.

No one's using it, you might as well.

Nope, don't need to measure it, it's a cubic foot smaller than yours was, it'll fit. And it's been sitting around for a while and it's a little dirty but don't worry. I'll clean it before we bring it to you.

Well, The Friends didn't get a chance to clean it. And just how LONG it had been sitting around is anybody's guess. And whomever had emptied it didn't bother to clean it out, either. So, along with the extra 10 pounds of construction debris coating the outside, the inside was covered with soy sauce, dried blood, and the remains of rotting vegetables. Just lovely!!

And it's about 1/4" too tall. (NO, we don't need no stinkin' measurements!!) So, now it sticks out about 3 feet from where it's supposed to. Not to mention the gigantic scratch in the brand new hardwood floor. (Only a week old, by the way.)

Really? Who does that? I mean, bless their little hearts for wanting to help. But who brings a fridge (or anything else for that matter) to someone's house without, at the very least, dusting off the inch of dust on the outside? Or, after finding out the inside was disgusting as well, saying "I know it's dirty. Let me help you clean it out."

Common courtesy, and common sense for that matter, dictates to me that these things should be done.

I told her not to worry about the fact that it sticks out 3 feet from the wall. That will make it super easy to retrieve anything that falls behind it. And, when it comes time to clean the coils on the back again, you can drag the entire vacuum cleaner back there with you.

Oh yeah, and the frosting on this entire cupcake? No one had actually plugged the monstrosity in to make sure it actually worked. Yeah. Perfect. (I am happy to report that even though it took a while, it did finally get cold and my friend is no longer living out of coolers.)

And The Fridge Fiasco was just one more thing on top of a heap of crap that "shit the bed" for my friend last week. Just one more thing to make it a really super-duper sucky dog-licking-ass-face week.

So, tonight when you are thanking your God for all your blessings, be especially glad that your fridge is nice and cold and purring along quietly, that all the electric windows in your car work properly, you don't have piles of homework or laundry, or a sick baby, or a teenager with a bad attitude.

And if you do - or if you've been there - say a little prayer for my friend. Ask God to lift her up and help her trudge through all this crap. Ask Him to remind her that it's all temporary - that it will all be okay in the end.

And if you don't have all those things I mentioned a couple paragraphs ago, or if you haven't been there, thank your God for all your blessings.

Love-Hate Relationship With Politicians

I simultaneously admire and despise politicians.

I admire them because it's a job I would NEVER want to do. It seems to me to be quite thankless. Someone is always unhappy with you no matter what you do or say. And God help you if you actually had a life before you got into politics because someone, somewhere is gonna have pictures, or video, or audio or proof of some sort of the (perhaps) one time there was a lapse in your otherwise good judgement and it ruins you AND ruins your family.

And I despise them because it seems that at their core, they are all completely full of total complete and unadulterated bullshit!! They will say anything to get as many votes as they can. They will say anything about the other so that they themselves appear squeaky clean in comparison. And some of them you just know are not. And, in Great Falls it seems, they will even stoop to stealing each others' campaign signs out of yards.

All in all, they seem to be a bunch of lying, cheating, back-stabbing, dirty-tricks-playing dimwits.

And any of them that do have the slightest bit of idealism (and by that I mean a basic belief that real change is really possible) arrive in Washington D.C. (even the White House, for that matter) and have it promptly stomped out of them because in order to get anything done, you have to get to be part of the "old boy" network that 1) broke us in the first place and 2) can't seem to fix a damn thing.

I have been told that if you don't vote, you don't have the right to complain. So, rest assured gentle readers, I will be voting even though Montana has no national candidates. Even if it's just for the right to bitch about politicians, I will be voting.

I believe that change begins locally and spreads globally. So even though I'm only voting for local and state officials, I will choose my vote carefully and thoughtfully, not ONLY because I believe in the same things as my candidate, but also because I believe the person I choose is capable of doing the thankless job that requires them to live in a fishbowl with everyone and their brother continually bitching about all the things they are doing wrong.

VOTE THIS ELECTION DAY - NOVEMBER 2ND!!!