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Can we just jump to January please? - 2014-11-14
A (don't kick the) Bucket List - 2014-10-28
Put THIS in your pipe and DON'T smoke it! - 2014-10-23
Max, Wolf, and the goats - 2014-10-15
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2:18 p.m. - 2010-12-18
Mother Mary Comes To Me...

Better.

Once again your absurdly resilient friend is upright. I think it's because everything on my bod is sinking downward and I'm becoming Bop-It-Bozo shaped. Amusing, eh? Though I wasn't best pleased when somewhere in a long and complicated dream last night Wolf asked me why my boobs were longer than Granny's in 'Playboy'. Jeeze. Even in my sleep world that kid is obnoxious.

Anyway, thank you. As always the kindness you guys give me is wonderful. And no, MaryWa, neither you nor anyone else chimed in with 'assvice'. Not even the usual "Suck it up and stop with the pity party, you drama queen" I get from my trolls. Cool beans.

I do not often ask the universe for favors. Yes, I am an atheist, but a complicated one. I do believe in the rule of three, paying it forward, and keeping my karmic nose clean. Not because I fear the Big Sky Daddy and his bouncer, St Peter, at the door of the heavenly nightclub who won't let me in because I'm not on the list, but because being a decent person makes the most sense to me. And somewhere in that raggle-taggle ethical code of mine is the idea that if I don't ask for much that when I DO need something it will come to me.

And so it did.

After barfing up that last entry I had a long chat with Mary of The Eyebrows.

Mary and I go way back. I told her how sad and weary I was. How I needed a break.

She heard me and understood.

The ex, who'd been AWOL for most of this week, dodging my phone calls and ignoring my ever more frantic voicemails that he DO some goddamn parenting for once, rolled up the driveway not 5 minutes before Wolf got home. It's not often the ringing bugles of the arriving cavalry sound like the holey exhaust of a beat-to-shit Jeep. The arrival of the ex meant the Wolf problems just got a whole lot easier. Mike would be doing a particular dirty job that had been foisted onto me and Mick by default. Wolf got himself into a mess with another kid and it now required parental involvement and Mike would have to straighten out this one. No arguments or weaseling, buddy-roo, time to be a father.

When Wolf got off the bus I sent him up to Mike's with explicit directions and a warning not to come back until bedtime.

They were already gone when Mick got home and when I told him what we didn't have to do his smile lit the room. Mick changed his clothes and we beat feet. Out for a long overdue quiet dinner to be followed by Christmas shopping. My friends, the whole evening went smooth as buttah. Dinner was yummy. The first stop afterward was a Dollar Store and Mick was amused and a little amazed at what I scored there. Stocking stuffers out the wazoo. Some handy necessaries. A kitchen gadget or two. Wrapping paper. Tape. Bows. Labels. "Baby, you really know how to work a dollar store, I tell you what."

Then it was off to a doink of a mall. Compared to the mighty shopping plazas in Malltown, the Rivertown mall is a joke. Oh, it has a few name brand franchises, but they are sad and small little outliers, neglected second cousins of the flagships and super stores in other malls. Even the Sears has about the same floor space as my dining room. Mostly though the Rivertown mall has weird little stores that cater to two specific niche markets- Christian evangelists and low-income urbanites. The slick veneer and smug excess of the stores catering to white Cheever-esque suburbanites is entirely absent. There are no perfume squirters or salesladies in $100 shoes in the Rivertown mall. There are bling stores for all your rapper wannabe needs and gift shops full of Holly Hobbie angels and many, many Footprints plaques.

If you need a New Testament that explains why Jesus is a Republican or some giant pants with pockets deep enough to hold your Glock, your AK-47 and a family of Salvadorian immigrants then Rivertown mall is the place to be.

Yet, Mick and I had some incredibly lucky shopping there! Got everything on my list and a couple serendipitous extras and a wonderfully helpful, no pressure, on the ball salesguy at the Verizon store. New phones, probably Droids, are in our immediate future. A move up that I'd been stalling about for a year now. (See previous entries about my disinclination toward change.) But the guy was extremely good at his job and reminded me of myself when I was in the car biz. A dedication to finding the right product and the right deal to do best for the customer. Not a slimy hustler out to snag a big pre-Christmas sale on the backs of two middle-aged technophobes. We'll go back later this week and work out the details. I'm glad enough to have this guy make his commission off us, he's definitely earned it.

Then it was home to a blessedly empty house. Whereupon your narrator and her guy got busy and busier and busy yet again. Taking full advantage of the privacy and each other.

Man oh man, did I need that. The nookie, of course, but also the whole rest of the evening. The dinner, the shopping, the happy surprises. The time off from being Mom. I was having a good hair day and had on nice earrings and felt freed from the ground down grubbiness, you know? Mick and I talked about everything and nothing. Happy in each other's company. Glad to be buying presents. Heck, we even got great parking places at every stop.

Like I said at the top, I don't ask for much, but yesterday the need was great, the plea for some relief sincere, and I was rewarded with the best night I'd had in a very long time.


On my feet and coping again. ~LA

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