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Can we just jump to January please? - 2014-11-14
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5:31 p.m. - 2013-08-22
She Bought...Time.

Freshly returned from the land of the malign pre-menstrual elves. You know... Cranky, Bloaty, Weepy, Snarky, Jittery, Wakey, and Bitchy. Their cousins came by too. Demented, Indecisive, Freaked, and Cruella. Fun, fun crowd let me tell you. Anyhoodle, woke up this morning after 6 hours of the best sleep I've gotten in a week and thought, "Hello! Glad to be here! Doesn't matter which side I get up on either one is going to be the right side of the bed this morning!"

And lo our friend the mercurial one got her period and is back to her preferred state of being- namely sane and non-bitey.

When I was in elementary school and we lived in Teensytown I did the grocery shopping at the A&P on Saturday afternoons. Dropped off with a list and a pre-signed check I took my time doing the weekly food shopping. This was back before unit prices were listed on the shelf edges and figuring out whether the 20oz jar of jam at 68 cents was a better deal than buying two 8oz jars at 33 cents each was wholly upon the consumer and their math skills. (The bigger jar was the better bargain, btw.) Now if it sounds borderline abusive and horribly unsafe to leave a 10 year old by herself at a grocery store to do the family's marketing I can tell you that no harm ever came to me at the A&P and that I truly enjoyed doing the shopping. One- I was on my own. And if you knew my mother then you'd know being away from her was always a good thing. Two- doing grown-up things is actually kind of cool when you're a kid. Wheeling the cart around, putting the stuff in, waiting to give my order at the deli counter, unloading purchases onto the conveyor belt at the register, filling in the amount of the check...coolness! To me it was playing house on a grand scale. Three- inevitably some kind soul would ask me what I was doing there all by myself. Many, many compliments and encouraging words came my way from the checkers and customers both. Brave, smart, such a good daughter, clever, precious, etc, etc. Far more than hearing nice things about my looks I have always and ever enjoyed being told I did something well. Compliments for being competent, even savvy and skilled? Love, love, love those. Tell me I have pretty eyes and I'll thank you kindly, but tell me I did a good job? Shoot, I'm so pleased and grateful I'll come over and paint your house, seal your asphalt driveway, and take your horrible mother-in-law to her podiatrist appointment.

Sadly that A&P is no more. The store is empty and a few of the big windows in front are busted out and boarded up with plywood. The little strip mall attached to it is still there though. Those nasty redneck Orange County Chopper guys used to have their 'headquarters' aka: souvenir store in that plaza until they built their huge gaudy showroom a couple miles down the road. (The new showroom is currently in receivership and frankly it couldn't have happened to a 'nicer' guy. Paul Teutul Sr was an asshole even back in the day when he was just an ironworker and used to bully-swagger around the welding gas store I frequented as the ex's gofer.) Nowadays the space next to the defunct A&P is a Family Dollar Store. And crazily it's become my favorite getaway when I need a quick out from home and a little retail therapy.

I headed there yesterday when I was at my tweakiest. Mick had taken Wolf over to the folks' place for a swim. Rightly (and prudently) thinking his volatile wife could use some time on her own. Good man, Mick. With the afternoon in front of me but with very little cash and even less brainpower or emotional control my original plan of going bra shopping got scotched and I tootled over to the one place I knew I could wander around for a good long while and not end up regretting whatever hormonal purchases I made.

The local Family Dollar is a haven. It's never very busy so the aisles aren't crowded with crank-asses nudging you with their carts. Despite the company's rep as one of the 10 worst outfits to work for the clerks at our Family Dollar are nice. They never seem stressed or too busy to chat a little while they ring you up. The stock? Whatever it is you might need be it a shower curtain or dog biscuits this Family Dollar Store has it. And if you are like I was yesterday and have no clue what your life lacks the browsing is still interesting and comforting. Underpants. Picture frames. Toys. Plant food. Alarm clocks. Silk floral arrangements for cemeteries. Pizza dough mix. Bath mats. MP3 players. Being there always puts me to mind of the old Dayton's 5&10 in Hometown. Another comfort place, this one from a long, long time ago. When I was a little, little kid and my Da would slip me a quarter to get whatever I wanted at Dayton's I was one happy girlie. You could own the world with a quarter at the five and dime.

So I wandered around the Family Dollar and imagined dozens of things into my life yesterday. Ended up only buying a hanging jewelry organizer for me and a pair of slippers for Mick, but that wasn't the point. My true mission was to get OUT. To distract myself from the nutty whoosh from my idiotic hateful ovaries. Race ahead of my crippling disappointment that this shit is still messing with my life. Not to lard it up too much, but that 6 month hiatus and the easy breezy calm I had there? Heaven. Nirvana. My own personal Walden. Nuthin' but me, my guys, my snug little house, the trees and the quiet. The quiet. Oh...the quiet.

It'll come back. God, please. Or I'll make the Guinness Book as the only woman to keep menstruating into her 60s. But I prefer to think that the 6 months of peaceful quiet wasn't a juicy bone teasingly offered to a starving dog and snatched away just for chucks by a malicious universe, no, it was a preview, a cup of cool water given to a marathoner at the 20 mile mark. A hope offered to an anticipated end. It'll be okay...

Eventually........yes?


Fingers crossed and eyes toward the future, ~LA the Hormonally Distracted



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