mydarlingcurse.com

reminded me to comment on a few things….

- my niece coming up from atlanta
- finding colby
- drinks with fultzie
- boo’s birth story

i feel a crash and burn coming on too….

i love the tour de france today. hubbin has always been a huge fan.

the time trials are today, and it’s like the best day in the tour since anything can happen. the leaders need to kick it into high gear because seriously, some guy listed tenth could come out of the gate and bury them all.

hubbin got up with buns, so i got an extra hour (almost) of sleep, then he took both kids down to the basement where boo can play and buns can sleep and he can watch the Tour on the big screen TV. i hear hubbin explaining the concept of a time trial to boo. tough thing to do since she has no concept of time. i tell him to start small, start with the jersey.

it’s nice being up here with my laptop, tea and crosswords. but i still feel full of tears.

i’m chalking all this up to the fact that i weened buns last week and am getting through the engorgement and subsequent hormonal changes (no more night sweats! huzzah!) but i’m concerned that it’s more than that. i have no problem getting back on an anti-depressant, but i don’t want to go to the doctor to get more. why? because i have to change doctors and that’s a pain.

i used to be really good at just turning the bad stuff off until i could deal with it. now it seems like it’s all i deal with, so there is no stopper. i keep telling myself that it’s temporary, that huubin will come around, the kids will get older and bigger and stronger, it’s not going to be like this tomorrow. i keep telling myself that, but when will i start believing it?

i’m bored to tears. there is plenty to do around here, the entire house could be dusted, but i don’t have any motivation for anything. i feel toxic and prickly. i simply feel like i only take up space - a large amount of space, but more on that in a minute.

i love my children. i would kill and be killed for them. i went through so much to bring them into our lives and for whatever reason i feel sad and guilty when they don’t complete me. granted, they aren’t supposed to. not at all. but being a stay at home mom just isn’t for me. i mean, i’m not a huge success someplace else in my life where being able to stay home is a luxury. hubbin and i decided that this is what we would do, that he would work and i would stay home (not that that’s not work). it’s just so menial and ungratifying. i can’t be happy everyday. i just can’t. it’s no longer in me or a part of who i am.

i feel orphaned by my family and abandoned by most of my friends. i feel than hubbin does only the minimum required and i have completely shut down. i never have a minute to myself without one of the kids needing something so why bother. even now as i type buns is crying and working out some gas and boo is impossible to please since she only slept for less than an hour during nap.

i also hate the body i’m in. i weigh more now than i did at the height of my pregnancy and that is enough to make me want to cut myself.

poor me.

The Importance of Music to Girls
by Lavinia Greenlaw

yes, the bitches did a podcast of this, but for whatever reason it’s not available yet. JCSG and i are doing the 12 hot, fresh episodes, we’re just not able to post them on time. what do you expect from a bookclub bitch huh? it’s the middle of summer and there is SO much going on….blah blah blah. one of these days JCSG will listen to me when i tell her we need to take July off. maybe next year.

so, for now you get my written review. trust me, it’ll be short. i didn’t even finish the book. it’s not that the book is bad, it’s not. it’s very well written, just not well written about anything significant. there is no sense of “musical” importance here because greenlaw keeps her readers and herself an arms length away. no thanks. if you aren’t pulling me out of the bag, throwing me in the toaster getting me all warm and yummy then slathering butter on me, forget it. greenlaw puts me in the back of the bread drawer waiting for me to butter myself. i’d rather get moldy and be fed to the ducks.

there are some wonderful, very flowery passages in the first sixty pages that i read. nothing of importance though. in a way, i’m very disappointed that i actually spent money on this book. i really wanted something special, something that i could relate to. greenlaw grew up in London in the 70’s and 80’s. now if that isn’t a fucking goldmine of musical importance, i don’t know what is! but it never penetrates her. it simply happens to her and she then describes what it was like bouncing around in the echoes. i would wait for hours, HOURS, sitting by my radio, finger cramping on the record button, for one song. because i loved it, because as a tween it said something more than what i could say for myself, it stirred my imagination and made me wish. the first few screams from “I Want You to Want Me” live at the Buddakan to this day give me goosebumps. greenlaw would describe the wallpaper.

a few things that really bothered me, and my apologies if i’ve mentioned this in the podcast. first of all, this book was billed as a memoir. now, i’m not of the school that memoir is fact. memoir is memory and that isn’t always reliable. but memoir is an account of someone’s life, of an event in someone’s life. and that should be true, the details surrounding the event, those can be soft and open to interpretation - since not everyone remembers the same event in the same way. but something has to happen and nothing happens to greenlaw. the music never happens. secondly, the reviews were great for this book and that just makes me mad. good writing doesn’t always mean good storytelling and vice versa. while greenlaw is a good writer, you need to be both. and if this shyte is getting published and lauded, well fuck! let’s all get up off our asses and write a novel, our chances look good.

in a way though, i’m really proud of myself for not finishing this book, for simply closing it and putting it down. i saved myself a lot of time and anger doing that and that makes me feel good. i don’t even want to mooch this book, i seriously want something for it. that’s how strongly i feel let down. even if it’s something stupid - an expired coupon maybe, or a can of RC Cola - having something else to replace the book would mean more to me than the book itself. so i could say, here is the can of RC that i got for a shitty shitty book, i like the can better.

i hope, after viewing The Dark Knight, JCSG and i can finally put to bed the Batman v Superman issue.

CLEARLY Batman wins. and here’s why bruce wayne is better than clark kent AND the joker as a nemesis is far more sinister than lex luthor.

also, RIP Heath. but please no more talk about a posthumous Oscar. he should have won for Brokeback Mountain and we all know it. the academy back peddling now after his death seems cheap.

i’m a special kind of smart since i run all my errands during a downpour. but after heading downtown to pick up my Viking tickets, i decided to forgo my trip to bed, bath & beyond and head home. about a block from my house i noticed something in the middle of the road. the car ahead of me ran over it and by the time i could really see it, i only had enough time to swerve before running over it myself. then i realized what it was. it was a flag, still on the pole, blown over from someone’s yard.

i pulled over and made a dash for it, thinking my ex-marine father would be so proud. i had a bad experience with a flag once, while i was marching in a protest a few years ago (back when the war was new and we thought we could stop it), someone had a huge flag they were holding and a redneck in a truck drove by and said “don’t use my flag!” sorry pal, this flag gives me the right to do with it whatever i want. i convinced my dad to put a flag emblem on his grave marker. so i felt very compelled to go pick up this flag in the middle of the road. how bizarre i thought, getting soaked. why hasn’t anyone else done this? why do people keep driving over it. i mean, rockets red glare right? don’t let a little rain stop you.

when i got over to it, i simply picked it up and got it off to the side of the road, it was a pretty good size. when i unfurled it i noticed it wasn’t really the stars and stripes. the stars were gone, and in their place, a peace symbol. and in a very unpatriotic moment, i thought about stealing it since it was so fucking cool. i propped it up on a street sign and vowed to come back tomorrow and take it then if no one had claimed it.

when i got home and told hubbin the story, he was shocked that people would drive over a US flag, when i explained about the peace symbol he said, that’s even better than a flag. i couldn’t agree more.

if i haven’t written too much about the buns lately it’s that i’m really trying hard not to have a “mom blog”. yes, yes, it’s who i am, but there is more to me that just being a Mom, although it is top on the list.

and let me just say that the buns is a card. he cracks me up and himself up and that’s something i’d never never be able to teach him, either you got it or you don’t. my only regret is that i can’t tend to him 24/7 the way i did with boo. looking back to when she was his age, i could have toned it down, but now it’s not enough and i don’t know how to fix that.

he’s a lover though, he’ll always snuggle in for a chat and i love that. he’s started to roll over too. and here, my bored little darlings, is where i turn into my Dad.

hubbin’s family is of the type that will use whatever they can to give themselves an advantage. my family is more of the “use your own grit” type. so the first time that buns rolled over, he was under his little dangle toy gym thing and used his foot on one of the supports to give himself leverage. “nuh-uh” says i, and pulled him out from under the toys to see if he could do it on his own, thinking something like, oh so you can do a LADY push-up, now let’s see you do twenty standard, bare-knuckled, in the rain.

thankfully, the buns is quite tolerant of his dear old mum, and like the trained chimp that he’ll soon become, he proceeded to roll over on his own, twice. semper fi little man!

i love VH1’s Rock of Love, loved it! loved the second season too, but now…bringing it to the bus? well that my darlings makes me so giddy that i might explode.

when i saw on JCSG’s site that Bret and Ambre broke up, i wasn’t shocked. i knew some little weasel in the creative department over at VH1 wasn’t going to leave Bret Michaels alone until every speck of gold dust was mined from his comeback.

but taking it on the bus - that’s just brilliant. and i’ll admit loudly and proudly that i’m bummed i can’t audition.

being a cool chick with awesome man friends….

had a terrific conversation with my friend Fultzie (aka “The Old Man”). and he’s one of those completely groovy people that i want to aspire to. i love that even though we haven’t talked in over six months, we can launch into a twenty minute conversation with a minimum of small talk. it’s been a while since i’ve had a real conversation.

chatted up mike from iowa (yet to be nicknamed, everything that comes to mind is wildly inappropriate). we were down visiting auntie iowa and she’s spitting distance from where he lives. we looked in the phone book but there were two gents with his first and last name and i wasn’t sure which one he was. good thing i’m planning on another trip later in august. haven’t seen him if YEARS and he was honestly one of the nicest guys i never dated.

hopefully will get lunch plans down with JT. another great friend with a daughter boo’s age. one of those people you always want to make plans with, but never do. sad in a way, really.

chatted up with marco, would love to see Batman with him, but he’s going to see it in Imax and my eyeballs cannot handle that.

sent a message to the vodo, not sure why. but who doesn’t love a message saying “hey dude”?