I am holding the title to my van. It feels really fucking good to be free.
Also explains why the battery suddenly died, the power windows are sticking, the shrieking of my brand new brakes, and the visor just dropping onto my head for no reason yesterday.
It’s the you-finally-paid-off-your-vehicle-and-now-it-will-surely-die syndrome.
Thank gawd it’s Friday, as I can’t seem to get up off the couch this morning. Little ones decided to share their cooties with me, and I feel absolutely horrible.
On a good note, Show Carnival was having a sale (thanks for the tip), and I bought MB1 & MB2 cool pairs of Adidas – both for only $70. Even better, my younger boys begged me to buy them these spiderman shoes at WalMart. Very cool indeed – especially on the wallet. Nothing like being the good guy and saving a shitload of money at the same time. Thanks for the shoe help.
The room is starting to spin, so I’m off to the couch. Today should be fun.
Does anyone knows of some Nike Outlet stores? Or any online spot to score some decent priced Nikes? Fill me in please. Please.
motherfuckingsonofabitchinairzoomwhoreshoes
I hate this time of year.
3 summer birthdays. Soccer registration. Replacement soccer supplies. School supplies. School shoes. School clothes.
I might as well take my debit card, throw it out in the fucking yard, and yell have at it.
We ended up staying home all day. MB4 started coughing, MG looked like her head was about to explode from pressure, and the Wee one had watery eyes.
They all took a three hour nap. I wish I could rewind it and enjoy it a tad bit more than I did. They were absolute terrors when they woke up.
They are out now, and I’m headed to bed. My eyes are burning. Damn.
he went upstairs to play.
No, really. He forgot. Well, I thought he did. I went about my business cleaning up the house, when he walked downstairs and asked to color. We got him all set up, and he made me a nice picture. Dots or snow or something like that.
I then got brave and asked HIM what a soul was – if he remembered. He told me it’s inside of him. And it makes him smile. Not sure he knows what the hell he’s talking about, but he parroted it back perfectly. Then he ignored me and went back to coloring. He’s obviously not in the same zone he was in yesterday. I have no doubt that he’ll approach me when his mind settles for the day.
I’ve been reading your comments and emails all morning. Then I glance over at him and wonder what’s really bugging me. The fact that he won’t or can’t buy the standard story and be satisfied. Or the fact that I can’t. Or won’t.
And why now? Why the sudden Michelle discussion now? She was killed the end of July. Am I supposed to be creeped out about that? Am I supposed to change my evil non-believing ways and admit once and for all that there is something else at work here? Something that likes to hop up and smack me in the face year after year to make damn sure that I never forget, as if I could?
Think we’ll load up today with some flowers and take MB4 out for his first cemetery visit. Maybe the older boys, with their solid faith, can help me out. I mean him.
The crickets are in cahoots with the cool night breeze trying to lull me to sleep.
But first I must try to work through my conversation with MB4 today. I need to be armed with understandable knowledge when he corners me tomorrow, as he said he will.
So …. what’s a soul? And how do I explain it to a five year old child whose minds whirls at such an amazing speed, that even simple conversations are impossible to absorb? He wants to know, and he’s waiting for an answer.
It’s my fault. He’s been really creeping me out the past few weeks. I was trying to explain this whole death thing to him. I think all I did was was fuck his head up even more.
Let’s backtrack.
(more…)
Summer just began, but yet it didn’t. That was months ago, and now I see school lists everywhere and hear men buzzing about football season and someone down the street is trying to recreate a perfect autumn night a few months early by burning a barrel of leaves and it smells oh so divine.
I detest the cold, but fall is so fucking intoxicating that even the faintest hint of chilly night air or burning leaves starts the wantan wishing wheel in motion and before I know it, fall will be upon me and I’ll rejoice with my fuzzy slippers and hot tea and I’ll forget. Forget that she never comes alone. She always bring old man winter and he’s mean and he’s nasty and he’s oh so incredibly cold – yet, there is also something very secure about winter. It’s hunkered down. Safe. Comforting.
And gorgeous. Can’t forget gorgeous. But when the gorgeous white landscape is brutalized by those snow man making minions, the uncovered earth gives way to its treasure below. Rows and rows and rows of it, because it takes so very many rolls around the yard to make the perfect snowman.
It’s grass. The forgotten grass. And just like that, the comfort gives way to suffocation and you see the green green grass against the white white snow, and you suddenly long for color. Lots of crazy color to replace the safe white world. And so you wish for spring. And the seasonal genie strikes a deal with the times of sand devil and delivers you spring lickety split.
And you drive down the road with your windows down and the butterflies dancing around and around and you see the pool. Naked and empty and so very lonely. And you feel the warmth of the sun on your face and you wish it would burn just a tad bit hotter so you could head down to the lake and putz around all day scoring some seashells and erecting some castles and once again you fast forward through the now to hurry on the promise of the new season and all its fabulous glory.
And one night you sit at your computer, held in a trance from the smell of those fucking leaves floating in through the window, and you try really hard not to wish your life away season by season because you know you’ll never get back these moments you have right now and it all goes so fucking fast anyway that you should just enjoy this rare treat tonight and tonight only and wake up tomorrow fully ready to live in the hot summer of now, and leave the beloved autumn around the corner where it belongs.
Is it just me, or can you actually see time marching by as you get older?
It’s about that time of year again when the threat of child abductions slide into the forefront of my mind. Talk to your kids about bad strangers. Talk to them about what to do if they are lost.
Talk to them Talk to them Talk to them.
Then head over to the Polly Klaas website, donate a few bucks, and get ID kits for your kids. No wants to think about shit like this, but you must if you have children.
If you don’t think it’s necessary to go all out with the hair follicles and the fingerprinting, at least make sure you put together a little something with a current photo and your child’s important information – like birthmarks, scars, favorite hiding/playing/hangout spots, friends’ names, whatever – and update it every year or so. If something were to happen to your child today, it would take time to get everything together that the police need to help find him/her. There are no minutes to waste when your child is missing.
Just go order the damn ID kit. It’s just easier. When it comes in the mail, pop some popcorn, and then spend some time filling it out while talking to your kids about staying safe.
Educate your babies.
MM: What pecker drank all the Sunny D?
MB1: Unit of the day award goes to MB2.
MB2: Don’t call me a unit.
MB1: Mom called you a pecker.
MB2: She’s allowed, she growed me.
Pass that Wholesome family award over this way please.
Yes, those are bookbags. Four bookbags for my four school age sons. Four bookbags filled with properly id’ed school supplies. Everything on the lists. Done. Marked. Packed the fuck away.
Next.
MG’s bday. I have two friends scouring the planet for these rag dolls I need for her tea party plans. The boys bought her a table and chairs today, albeit a cheapo little set, but still. It’s the thought, right? And it’s cute. And those suckers gave it to her alfuckingready.
She caught a glimpse while they were trying to hide it, she turned around and told me that her brothers make her so very happy, and they caved. We are in some serious shit with this little girl folks. Not a damn one of us can deny her. That’s it. Can deny her. Doesn’t matter what the hell you stick at the end of that sentence. Just can’t be done.
So anydamnway. I’m trying really hard to keep my head intact while searching and shopping for her. Damn, it’s hard. She’s so fun now. She appreciates all the glorious goodness of being a little girl. Her eyes sparkle. She squeals. And we all scramble around like fools trying to find something else to delight her with. I think the boys are worse than I am.
I have to stay within budget though. I have a 13 year old who has reached the age of giving a shit about what clothes he wears to school. He’s not pulling that typical teen shit of refusing to wear anything but name brands, but I know he would like to snaz up his wardrobe. And it’s because he doesn’t ask or bitch that I am going to bust my ass to throw in a few special items for him this year.
I want to see if my oldest son squeals like a little girl when handed an Ecko hoody.
I bet he does.
This fucking air conditioner. I am sitting here with a wet towel around my neck to keep from passing the hell out. Landlords insist it’s working fine, and maybe it is. Hell I don’t know. Take a two story house, throw in a hundred degree weather, and I guess achieving icebox status is a little difficult. But sonofawhore – sitting here with sweat beads cruising down my parts is a tad bit ridiculous.
Friend of ours brought over a window unit. Said it might help to take the pressure off of the central unit. Is that right? I’d love nothing more than to throw that bitch in to the bedroom window, close the door, and play freeze out – but I must think rationally. Is that going to jack my electric bill through the roof? Not like it’s not sky high anyway trying to keep this bitch tolerable, but will it make it worse? Or should I just try lowering the thermostat a bit? Damn, I sure as hell don’t know. Just hate to sweat.
It makes me grouchy.
Last week, the wee one still had trouble getting his tongue out of the way to try a bit of solids. This week, he’s up to 2 jars at each feeding. Fast learner. I noticed something too – I’m waking up with some pretty big knockers in the mornings. Guess mister i-eat-solids-now doesn’t need to attach himself to the tap all night long anymore. And he’s using me to wash his vittles down during the day. I’m no longer the main course. It has begun. Pretty soon he’ll be lipping off with the rest of ‘em.
I’m ready for school to begin. Like tomorrow. Plan on getting the rest of the school supplies this week, and then I’ll be tap tap tapping my toes waiting for the fucking bus to pull up and take them away. Yeah, I know I have a month or two. Fuck off.
MB4 is still doing about the same. Better than he was before he attended school camp, but still not at a level I feel comfy with. Not if he is to live outside of the closet, that is. Yes, I’m kidding. I don’t put my kids in the closet. Much.
He no longer gets stuck and repeats shit a million times, and he is starting to ask more questions. It’s almost like he’s starting to realize that he views things differently than other people do. Maybe his maturity level just wasn’t where it needed to be. Maybe I should just stop wondering about it and delight in the fact that he will attend school in the fall like all the other kids. Just hoping he continues to do well when regular school hammers down upon his head.
Pirate party was a success, and bringing up the rear – we have a tea party to plan for MG’s third birthday. She saw the stuff here , but I was thinking more Mad Hatter style. Crazy hats and oversized cups. Shit, the more I think about it, the more I realize it’s not really 3 year old-ish, huh? Damn. Ok, back to the fru-fru party idea. I need to find some of those large, stuffed dollies with oversized hats and shit. I can’t find them anywhere, and she keeps telling me how they are coming to her party. I WILL NOT disappoint this child. I have got to find some of those dolls. Sort of raggedy ann style, but not. Just big floppy dolls. More companion dolls than baby dolls. C’mon, you know which ones I mean. What the hell are they called? Big floppy dolls? I think not.
Anyhoo – I need to take my ass to bed. Headache prick is still hanging around, and I had to take another pill to sedate his ass. Unfortunately, that also means MY ass was sedated as well. Off to dream about tea parties. Oh the joy.
MD chased mr snake away, and I went ahead and mowed. Such a brave bitch I am. Such a stupid bitch I am to think I can mow in the middle of the day and not get some sort of heat stroke thing happening. Brain pounding away in my head like a time bomb. Vision blurred and crazy. Hands and arms shaking. Sweat overtaking me in waves every 10 minutes minutes or so for an hour even after I came inside to rest. It’ll be awhile before I do that again. I’m not too keen on inviting a fucking headache like the one I have right now. Good gawd, is it pounding.
The one time I get the wee one settled enough to venture and mow the yard because I actually like to mow and get sweaty and stinky while watching the lawn tranform into a thing of beauty and everyone just bitches and moans when told to do it anyway so I’d thought yeehaww I’ll mow it well I didn’t really say yeehaw but I thought it, well no I didn’t even think it but I was excited nonetheless and I walked out to start the mower and a motherfucking snake slithers out from under the mower and I run and I run and I shriek and I’m pretty sure I even pissed myself a little.
I’m not mowing ever again. Hell, I may never go outside again.
Pirate party pics in the July gallery.
Everyone had a great time, and my mood didn’t go to total shit trying to keep it running smoothly. Was only one little pecker I wanted to choke, but I behaved myself.
I’ll have enough money to buy a real coffeepot that doesn’t need to be babysat as it brews to make sure it doesn’t spew shit all over my counter because the little knob-y thing wasn’t aligned fucking perfectly.
Went to the doctor today for my headaches. Took 90 seconds to drive there. Went to the pharmacy afterward. That drive took 2 minutes. Then I drove to the bank in 30 seconds, filled up the tank right next door, spent 3 minutes driving to the post office because I got stuck at the stoplight, then drove the remaining 4 blocks back to the house.
I fucking love this town.
Does anyone ever use the different skins? I just made the others to learn style sheets, but I don’t really use any of them myself. It’s Flag for me. I like my flag. Thinking about scrapping the others. Why? Just because I love scrapping shit when it irks me. But I won’t if someone actually uses them.
Maybe…
It’s illegal to tie your children up and stick them in the closet for fighting. It’s illegal to tie your children up and stick them in the closet for fighting. It’s illegal to tie your children up and stick them in the closet for fighting. It’s illegal to tie your children up and stick them in the closet for fighting.
There outta be a fucking law against running out of snacks. Let’s forget for one minute that I probably ate them all and caused this emergency. That’s not important right now. All that matters, is that it’s almost midnight, and I don’t have shit for sweets in this house except vanilla ice cream. I’ve already chowed two bowls, and it’s not cutting it. Vanilla just isn’t devious enough to quench my desire. I need something to smother it with. Like caramel. Fudge. Marshmallow creme. Whipped cream. Oreos. Heath bar. Fuck.
Can’t even switch gears and feed the salty side. No popcorn no chips no club or ritz crackers – no regular fucking saltines for that matter.
What do we have? Meat. Meat and veggies. And piles upon piles of frozen homemade bread and rolls in the freezer. I was supposed to take my sorry ass to the store Sunday, but the storm reassured me it was ok to stay nice and dry in my house. Then a motherfucker of a headache came a-knockin yesterday and was still hanging around to beat my ass today. Now it’s finally wearing off, and I’m starving. No, not starving. I’m snacky. A snacky wild beast who’s about to throw a jacket around her bra-less self and head out into the night in search of Rolos.
Fuck off – it’s a sickness.
Have spent the past hour reviewing different internet options with my phone service provider. Trying to find the best (read: cheapest) way to get the boys online.
I have the option to add another computer with my cable account, and I already have the hub. Now, connecting the two computers to the hub on different floors on opposite sides of the house is not my concern, as I was not born with a penis, but I am concerned about allowing the walking hormone (previously known as my son) free reign over the internet. My current cable provider does not offer any type of parental controls. I know I could adjust the content options, but my children are a tad bit smarter than the average bear. I want something that cannot be changed internally from within the computer.
Would actually save a buck (literally one dollar) if I switched from cable to DSL through my phone company. They have a nifty little all-in-one plan that includes their highest speed DSL (1.5M), cheap long distance, and my regular phone service with every additional feature you could ever fucking think of. We’d get five user accounts, and each could be set up with different content controls through their web blocker – like AOL. And it’s handled at the site. The kids would never know that.
Question though – is DSL decent? I’m assuming it is, but I thought I’d ask around to see what others think of it.
Undying gratitude for any input.
Landlord brought over a newer stove for us the other day. It’s white, digital, self-cleaning, and just fucking amazingly perfect to look at.
MD brought home a desk set from work today. It’s rubber maid – no shit. A rubber maid computer desk. Beats the table I was using though. This bitch is huge. Many many pieces. Even a drafting board. I have three of the pieces for my puter, gave one to the boys for their ‘new’ puter (which MD generously donated to them because I haven’t gotten around to rebuilding theirs yet and he was in a helluva good mood tonight), moved one table into the laundry room to use as a folding station and a basket hider, and one piece is still in the basement doomed to sit there with all the other furniture waiting until we have a house large enough to house it all.
MD helped me rearrange and set up my puter shit, sort my paperwork into my new file cabinets (which also came with this big bitch), helped me organize the basement, clean off the top of the fridge, empty two paperwork/warranty/misc cabinets, and helped me sort through the school supply cabinet. Did I mention I am almost done with school supply shopping already? Have all the basics anyway. I will have four kiddos in school this year – had to get a jump on it.
I spent today scrubbing floors, shampooing carpets, super gluing loose shit, and cleaning the rest of the blinds in the house. Then I organized the toy closet, sorted and arranged all of MG’s ‘girlie’ toys, and spent an hour making the kids’ beds so fucking tight they needed a crowbar to crawl into bed. Also cleaned the fridge inside and out, the silverware drawers, sorted the game cabinet, and planted some more flowers.
MD was told today that they are working M-T – but Friday is optional. That means his hours aren’t really going to change that much. That means Ang can breathe a little easier – for now anyway. That shit can flip on a dime, but I’m sure going to make every penny count for as long as it lasts.
I’ve had a busy, wonderfully productive, and overall fanfuckingtastic day. And now I’m going to fall into bed and recharge my dog ass tired body.
Sweet dreams.
Shouldn’t load like ass anymore. Nancy my love has once again saved the day.
Yeah, shit is wonky around here. Not sure what’s going on. This blog is always nutso. Maybe that’s a sign to drive a stake into its heart and be done with it. If you really need to talk to me or bitch at me or send me naked pictures of hot sweaty men – that email link over on the right still works just fine.
Put up more pics in the Gallery. Nancy helped me put together a photoblog, but my mind isn’t ready to work on it just yet. Not really in the mood to do anything right now.
MD’s shop is undergoing some big changes. They have halted all new production until shit gets settled. That means hours are shi-tay. We can ride it out for about a month, after that – no can do. He’s putting together his certifications to take down the road if need be. I hope it doesn’t come to that. He likes his job.
I’ve been looking for a part time job. Thought that way, we could hang on bit longer while the upper ups work out the kinks. But my idea was met with some serious disapproval here in the home. No one wants mama working.
But that’s just tough shit. I can’t sit around and watch our finances flap in the wind. Not when my able bodied ass could be out earning a little change for our pockets. These odd jobs just aren’t stable and steady enough. I have three units sitting under my desk right now, but I’m only getting paid to fix one of them. The others are just the usual friends and family that blow their shit up on a regular basis. I have one small design job in the works, but I’ve never been able to charge folks more than they can afford. This gal can swing about $100, and that’s all I’ll accept from her. It’s not tax time yet, so no work from mom.
I know that working outside the home during the day is not an option. Simply not cost-effective with daycare, and there’s no way a household this size can run smoothly without someone overseeing it every day. Too many appointments and activities. Too many dishes and way too much laundry. I know that.
But I can work at night. And I can work on the weekends. No one is pleased with that shit either. Oh well. They all like family fun time, but they all like to eat even more.
Just not sure what is going to happen. Perhaps this is an unfounded concern, and MD’s hours will keep right on trucking. Or maybe we’ll have to start tightening that financial belt, squeezing out little things like cable and netflix. Could happen. I’ve grown rather fond of MoodyMama, but I won’t starve to keep it.
Sure would be a good time to hit the lottery. I’d share.
My baby turned 9 today. He’s getting a surprise Pirate Party next Saturday. Mama’s going all out to make MiddleChild feel extra special this year. He’s the sweetest child I know, who repeatedly gives and gives and gives without expecting anything in return.
I even invited the love of his life. She didn’t seem to mind being the only girl coming to the party. Guess that makes sense as MB3 was the only boy at her party. This marks the third year they’ve made google eyes at each other. He’ll marry that little gal someday, and they can tell their kids they were kindergarten sweethearts. That makes me smile.
He makes me smile.
Entire family woke up on the wrong side of the bed Sunday morning. At each other’s throats right up until the moment we were supposed to leave for the lake. Was half tempted to scrap the whole damn day – but we didn’t. We decided to push on ahead and hoped the fun in the sun would chase the nasties away.
Kids were still bickering in the back as we drove. Stopped for buns and aspirin. Still bickering. Stopped for gas and ice. Still bickering. We drove through clouds of purple smoke and watched little ones trying to shake parachutes out of trees. My children still went at it. We drove past hundreds of flags and tshirts with flags on them and more red white and blue than I’ve ever remembered seeing in past years. Still, they fought.
We reached the long stretch of road that leads to the lake front, and had to slow down to wait with the gazillion other families snailing in to enjoy their day at the beach. Someone snarled from the backseat about the pace, and grumbled out loud about why all these people had to head to the lake today.
Because they’re free, that’s why.
They all waited for me to finish. Waited for the speech that usually follows when their kiddo sized tragedies puff up and over shadow what really matters in life. Waited for me to preach and remind and pray that I’m getting through to their knuckle heads so that they may grow up into decent human beings.
But I said nothing. Not sure if I could have carried on about anything anyway. My subconscious was playing a clever game of what else would be different if we weren’t a free society, and my mind minions were popping off answers and feeding the patriotic fire in my gut. I was overcome with how incredibly blessed I was to live in this country, and I suddenly didn’t care about the fights and disagreements because at least they were free to have them. But maybe their minds were doing the same thing, as I didn’t hear a peep out of any of them the rest of drive over.
I have seen seas of people in my life, but I’ve never felt the charge coming from them as I did yesterday. Every inch of that beach was covered with people and blankets and coolers. There were people camped out in the grass across the street. My aunt had 6 families at her house who had requested permission to setup in her yard and wait for the fireworks.
That evening, when the fireworks display started, you could hear cheering. It was floating in from all sides of the lake. The fireworks themselves hadn’t changed much in the past few years, but each one seemed to have garnered renewed appreciation from the crowd. It was powerful to witness.
I’m not sure if my kids will remember anything except the fun. There were no more fights that day, just trampoline acrobats and football and sailboating and swimming and food and bottle rockets and horseshoes and family – lots of family. Every single one of them crashed hard on the way home, and it took 20 minutes to unload them into the house and put their smiling tired asses to bed.
But I’ll remember. I can still feel the the fireworks booming in my chest. Can still feel the lump in my throat from listening to the crowd roaring. There is no sweeter place on earth, and I’m damn proud and honored to live here.
When I was growing up, we’d spend every 4th of July at the lake. We’d all go my aunt’s mother-in-law’s house and spend the day swimming and boating and eating and playing and blowing shit up with M80s and just have one helluva good time. Mom had 7 sisters, and all but two would show up every year with their brood.
Most years, I never saw the mother-in-law come outside. She would simply carry on about her business inside, oblivious to the water skiers or the horseshoe throwers or the inner tubers or the volley-ballers making memories outside. She granted us the use of her fireworks friendly zoning, and didn’t seem to give a shit about celebrating with us.
If you had to pee, you had to undergo an intense all over body drying procedure, complete with a special de-sanding treatment so that the house remained a pillar of perfection. Most kids chose to piss in the lake instead. Yeah, I was a lake pisser. Only took one trip inside that house to get the hint that I was not welcome in there. Even a young child understands looks like those.
There would be lawn chair groups all over the giant yard for each family. Those old nylon-ish strip scratchy full body lawn chairs. Wet towels would cover the chairs and coolers would be at the heart of each clan’s set up. You always knew which cooler had the good pop and the good snacks.
It was a time to just enjoy. 20 or so children having fun in the sun until the smell from the bbq could no longer be ignored. We’d eat, and then head off to play to the point of exhaustion. Moms would start calling names, and wet kids would disappear into make-shift dressing rooms made of towels and lawn chairs, and emerge a few pissed off screams later with dry clothes and clean faces and combed hair. The sunburns wouldn’t be felt until the next day, but the insta-freckle fairy’s handiwork could be clearly seen by sundown. Rows and rows of blankets magically appeared as exhausted but now-comfy-in-their-warm-dry-clothes kids all came together with fresh sodas and cookies from the goodies stash. We’d pick our seat, and Dads would start buzzing with excitement because now it was their turn to play with firefirefire and make shit go boom and watch kids’ eyes dance around in awe. Our personal displays would last for hours. Those Dads never disappointed.
When the last Dad’s bag was empty, it’d be time for another round of spray to keep the skeetos away but not because mosquitoes were killing some birds or some small framed people, it was simply because their bites would leave massive welts that could drive a child into a scratching frenzy that would inevitably lead to pink polka dotted state that never really helped just sort of clued other folks in as to what the fuck you were doing if you suddenly slammed yourself against a door and drug your bitten back up and down and up and down trying to find some relief.
Then the city display would start, and we’d oooh and aahh and squeal and clap. And we’d snuggle in a little closer to our moms and our dads and we’d announce that we could see them better if we laid down. And the next thing we know, the sunshine is waking us up in our beds with only a few fading fragments of being carried to the car and then again to the house and it’s mixed in with sweet dreams and we can’t wait until next year to do it all again.
Those family 4th’s ended after Michelle died. It was her grandmother’s house we would celebrate at. She didn’t want the reminder I guess. Not that I personally recall what the fuck she had to remember anyway. But it wasn’t just her. Wasn’t just the 4th. Our family stopped celebrating. Period. My cousins and I were at the mercy of our parents. No more family reunions for any holiday. No more laughing. No more fun. We slipped into a time of mourning that has only recently begun to lift – 20 some odd years later as all the children have children of their own.
The past two years, we’ve gone back to the lake. We head out to my aunt’s house now – just a half mile away from where we used to go. We’ve lost two aunts and an uncle along the way to cancer, and some families have been shuffled and reshuffled and rebuilt and expanded – but at least those of us left are trying. Trying to make good on the new promises we’ve made to ourselves to keep on living. To make memories for our own children.
And my aunt’s cool. Everyone gets to piss inside.
Posting will be light for awhile. The spouse is off for a few days, there are margaritas to enjoy, and some parachutes to catch.
For those that celebrate – have a blessed Independence Day. For those that are fighting for our right to keep on celebrating – my thoughts, thanks, and love are with you.
