6 of one, half a dozen of the other

I have never been so *bleeping* exhausted in my life, not even when I had a newborn waking me up several times during the night. I guess this is what it means to be a grown up. My son in law used to tell me I was spoiled (pre-divorce) and it used to piss me off, but he was right. In many ways I was spoiled. I will never admit that to him.

I'm not spoiled anymore.

My boss from my first job worked the schedule so that I could take the second job and she was able to give me one day off a week. Hallelujah! I was worried.

I want to say I like the second job. I don't. The people are wonderful, the works sucks. Well, it's not so much the work sucking as the fact that I work non stop for 8 hours with no break, no lunch...It's too convoluted to explain. Technically, I get a lunch, I just haven't figured out HOW I am supposed to take that lunch. I asked and no practical advice was given. I think my boss feels vindicated by saying, "Have you eaten today?" It covers her ass since it is offered. That's not to say she's not a lovely person, she is. She's just too busy.

She goes to lunch, though.

I really should not talk about work here.

One day off a week is good, but two would be better.

The first thing I do when I walk in the door from work in the evening is get a beer or a glass of wine. I am a such a cliche sometimes.

And boring, if you ask Sili. Hell, ask me. I know better than she does.

I don't get to see as much of my daughter and grandsons as I used to. It's always surprisng to see what the youngest grandson has learned during the previous week when I see them on my day off. Last week I found out he'd learned to give kisses. My daughter told him to give me a kiss. He grabbed me around to neck and laid the biggest, most enthusiastic smacker on me. He's so proud of himself and it's so darn cute. I wish I could put these memories away somewhere for safekeeping so I could pull them out later and relive them again.

I love Poco almost as much as I love the Eagles

I think I'll call him...

found at and stolen from Wons and Zeros.

riddles and poppycock

I'm ready for my life to settle down. I sometimes think what has happened the past 3 years is karma for my past transgressions, yet I can't believe what I did in the past warranted this kind of punishment. Then again, thinking like that sounds superstitious and my pragmatic side tells me it's all just random bull hockey.

As of this week I now have 2 part time jobs. The first one I got mid-January and I love it, the new one, not so much. After this month my schedule will most likely not include any days off. A good friend told me, "working isn't all it's cracked up to be but it is a means to an end." Yep, a means to MY end, I fear.

I've thought about changing the name of my blog, even though I am still not amused.
Titles I've come up with:
The Deep End
Details in the Fabric (from the previously posted song.)
Now that I started typing I can't remember the others.

That happens a lot lately and sometimes it's unnerving to forget what I was saying mid-sentence.

I read things on other blogs whose authors sometimes read here and wonder if they're talking about me. Perhaps a good new name for my blog would be, Forgetful and Paranoid.

Have I said before how calamities tend to make some people (namely, me) self centered?

People (loved ones) tell me all the time, "There's someone out there for you." There are days when I want that to be true, but more and more lately I'm thinking I bloody well hope not. I'm only just now believing I can take care of myself and I've sort of gotten used to being alone. I'm not sure I want to have to worry about someone else again.

Dad is still trying to talk me into moving back to Kansas and living in their basement. God help me. He loves me and wants me taken care of, but can you imagine?

I had to laugh, a person at each of my jobs has told me they have noticed that I am calm and even tempered. Boy, have I got them fooled. My new boss told me she's glad I am not afraid of trying. I told her oh yes I am. She said to never let the bears smell blood.

Dear person whose blog I used to read but who hadn't posted for about 3 years until recently: I don't know if you read here but I'm glad you're blogging again. I won't be commenting, but you have a real talent for it. You already know that.

I'm tired.

There she goes again

Seems like lately I'm surrounded by people going through what I went through. It's an epidemic.

And it makes me think again when I had just begun to not think about it so much. I don't want to think about it anymore.

We stopped at 31 years but it coulda, woulda, maybe shoulda been 34 years a week ago today.

But it won't. He married her about a month ago. They moved to Houston last weekend. End of story. Closure?

I was talking with my brother yesterday and wondered out loud if it's a female thing to pine so for what we lose. He said he thought maybe it was and that guys move on more easily.

Whatever. I carry the scars and wear them like a badge; a testament to what, I don't know.
To the fact that I could love deeply? Hang on to righteous indignation adamantly? BFD. Perseverance ain't no piece of cake.

I wish I were a guy.


My brother says he thinks of me when he hears this song.

My cousin in Dalhart posted this flyer on Facebook. She's trying to help the owner of these 8 week old Border Collie puppies find them homes. If they can't be placed the owner will have them put down. It looks like there are 3 girls and 2 boys. There's a number on the flyer if you are or know somebody who is interested.