mydarlingcurse.com

on the old blog - which Movable Type destroyed - i posted a list of the top valentine’s days that i could remember. one of them was getting a phone call from a cute-actor-boy (who went on to be semi-famous) from New York asking me to be his valentine. it was later that he told me how GAY he was. sad, but true.

another involves psycho jen and her loverly mom, Chardonnay, Dick Buttons, homemade Valentine’s Day cards, the Olympics, and “Happy Dick Day” was born.

but my most favorite was my first V-day with hubbin. before we were married, we lived in sin in Uptown - is there any other place? and bless his little heart he tried. he really really tried.

back before food network or wireless internet people just probably bought two live lobsters, plunked them in boiling water and waited for them to turn red. this is what hubbin did in an attempt to woo me and wow me on our first V-day together. i was finishing college at the time and on that day, i was late coming home. i can’t remember if it was traffic or what, but i was late.
and god love him, he put them lobsters in the oven to keep them warm.

when i got home, hubbin made me close my eyes as i sat down to a beautifully set table and some wine. and BAM! whole lobster on my plate in my face. i was so freaked out that i jumped up and knocked my chair over. large bugs and bug-like things scare the crap outta me. a whole lobster falls into the category of large bug-like thing.

and once we cracked them open and started eating, darlings, let me tell ya. no amount of good intentions and butter could save those poor bastards. it was gross, chewy and rubbery and not at all good. not at all.

thankfully, hubbin didn’t take too long to figure out his was inedible too, it wasn’t just me.

it was then that we remembered seeing a sign at Leaning Tower that said, large pizza, bottle of chianti and a red rose - V-Day special $19.99. so we hiked up there and took them up on such a fantastic offer. it was there and then that i told him he could get away with just taking me out to pizza every year for V-day.

he tried. he really really tried, and that’s what counts and i’ve never, EVER forgotten it. and come on, at 24 would YOU have known not to put a lobster in the oven to try and keep it warm?

i thought so.

so happy V-Day ya’ll. i’m sending you a lobster red hug.

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fear not my darlings - soon the stone cold sober podcasts will end.

ok, it’s me.

it’s totally totally me.

i cannot get out any of my words or thoughts.

my body is a hive, buzzing with all of this and none of them can escape.

i know now why people in earlier times thought pregnant women were crazy. why they thought a hysterectomy was the cure.

i tried talking to hubbin about some of it last night and it was a disaster. a new orleans sized disaster (too soon?)

the discussion ended with me more hurt and frustrated than when i started and usually talking to hubbin makes me feel so much better.

run!
hide!
stay away!
i obviously have fallen into some kind of weird…i dunno. i am toxic to people and myself.

run!
seriously.

i was surprised to find out yesterday just how much personal energy it takes to accept and tolerate things and situations in my life. i am constantly working on trying to come to peace with several situations that are completely beyond my control, but that some how ooze into my life.

granted, i can no longer express with any level of comfort what is going on with half of it, at least not here (super secret blagh where are you?). but it still has a negative effect on a part of my life, and people very close and extremely important to me. i am fiercely protective of those i care about and love, and not just my little boo and the pending bunny.

and honestly, i have enough shit to deal with. i’m having a baby. and i somehow need to figure out how i’m going to do that with a two year old, by myself. i don’t have family i can lean on, i don’t have friends that come to my rescue. i do have hubbin, but part of all of this is him dealing with some of his own external factors. and it kills me to see him struggle with it every damn day.
so i use what little energy i have tolerating that situation and lending whatever support i can.

i just have such a low opinion of people who refuse to help themselves. i get that it’s not that easy. believe me i know. but while i was spending four years bitching about not having a family we were listing with an adoption agency and seeing a reproductive specialist. i never once though “well, it’s out of my hands”. fuck that. this is MY life, I am in control. so to see people, who i KNOW know better, just allow themselves to be victimized by their own doing…christ….it just makes me sick.

more later…

let me preface this entry with a small disclaimer:

i probably spend too much time alone. and while i don’t mean truly alone, since i care for boo everyday, i am isolated from other adults. also, currently i am hormonally challenged. i cannot change the fact that because my body is 32 weeks pregnant, and i don’t want to blame that fact on why my mind words the way that it does. but i think the hormones are a factor.

that said….

i am sick of people lying. i see people, adults, pulling the same crap as 5th graders and i guess i’m too bitter and jaded to take it in stride.

i’ve been called a liar myself, but not getting the facts straight is different from intentionally deceiving someone. everyone lies when they are backed into a corder. it’s human nature.

but what bothers me is the amount of “little white lies” that seems to plague almost everyone i come into contact with (as limited as that is). we tell “little white lies” to spare people’s feelings, or because we are being complacent, e.g.
“How are you doing?” “Oh Fine, how are you?”

chances are, you’re not fine. chances are something is wrong and bothering you and either you don’t want to talk about it, or you don’t want to talk about it with the person who asked how you were in the first place. that’s cool. “little white lies” can be an issue of trust too, i get it.

now of course my problem goes beyond ” I’m fine, how are you?”, but it’s that level of falsehood that is getting to me.

12:00 AM!

that’s how late we stayed up watching who won what and what states and all that. it was insane!

hubbin, boo and i bucked up and headed to our local caucus. it was a blast. sadly, i couldn’t handle the crowd too well, so we ducked out early and headed to the playland at mcdonald’s. boo is going to vote for whichever candidate has a pro-juice box agenda.

it was fantastic to see many people out and excited about the democratic process. i was a little disappointed to see my candidate so poorly represented, but no matter. i didn’t cast my vote to get a sticker or a yard sign.

i can’t really remember the last time i was proud to be an american. i hate the song by the way and when they play it at games i sit down and curse country music. and there haven’t been too many proud moments for america lately, but i think last night was one of them and i was glad to be a part of it.

ugh - ok, enough with the political mamby pamby - sorry.

one - had a dream last night that a very sexy, very grumpy, very unavailable man put his hand on my bulging belly. made me feel like a MILF.

two - found bugs in the sugar this morning

three - because my house is laden with Thomas the Tank Engine crap (yes my daughter is into trains), it was inevitable that some Thomas thing would turn up somewhere totally unexpected. today i found a thomas sticker in my underwear.

oh and by the way….

HELL YEAH to the NY Giants! Woot!

yesterday was my brother’s birthday. he’d have been 47.

when i think back to where i was a year ago, chances are probably in a car, somewhere between the twin cities and rochester. chances are i’d have been wiping tears from my cheeks. i remember being really worried about my dad, and how he was coping. i remember thing my brother’s mom is a big bowl of crazy and that it was so sad that my dad was going through all of this with her, without my mother’s help.

the only way i felt that i could help was to tell my brother, in our private last moments, that things would be ok. that death was nothing to fear. i’d make sure the kids were looked after and taken care of and that i’d always be a part of their lives. i told him there was a place waiting for him - without pain and i gave him ever ounce of courage i had so he’d let go of this and get to that place.

i broke down at his bedside. i tried so hard to draw down my mom and my aunt jan from heaven, a place of compassion and mercy - desperate to end his pain - please take him, take him now, make it quick, make it soon. but he wasn’t ready. he lasted for hours after that.

my poor sister-in-law, slootie. she can’t stand my brothers’ mom, or that other son of my dad’s - who was there. she couldn’t be in the same room with them. she said she didn’t understand the whole “bedside vigil”, she thought my brother wouldn’t have wanted people to watch him die. she was down the hall in the lounge, i brought her blankets and a pillow. and i told her what the last few hours were going to be like.

when someone dies in a hospital, time doesn’t stop. your heart breaks in half and you find yourself amazed at your own ability to walk, but the hospital machine keeps a-runnin’. i told slootie how unemotional the process is - how sympathetic the staff will be, but the big thing is all the business. do you want an autopsy done? where would you like the body sent? they give you something to sign after they pronounce your loved one dead. you have to sign it. you have to collect all of your things from the room and vacate it. you bring all these things to your car and you leave a corpse behind. same person, same bed, same room, but a corpse.

my brother celebrated his final birthday at the hospital. four days later he died.

personally, i don’t dwell on these things, but i know that some people do. i talked to slootie yesterday and they were doing to maybe go to Bro’s fave restaurant and she said that the kids wanted to bake him a cake - angel food. she’s thinking about taking them to his grave on tuesday. they haven’t seen the headstone i picked out for him.

my dad spent the day out on the ice fishing with buddies. old man therapy. i checked in on him, and told him i loved him. we didn’t talk too much about it. it sounded like he was handling it better than my mom’s one year anniversary.

i just did what i said i would do, looked after things.