Productive Sunday

Yesterday went entirely differently than I planned, but, still managed to be totally productive. I like when that happens.

Luiz is coming down, tonight or tomorrow, spend a few days here (Geek Holiday!) again, and in light of his last visit, I decided to actually *cook*. Last time, the one night I made ribeyes didn't cut it, that's not cooking. That's steak. So, I got the wild idea to make lasagna. No, not just any lasagna. Lasagna Bolognese. This is one of those multi-day undertakings. Yesterday was the Bolognese sauce. Today, the assemblage and cooking. Or tomorrow, depending on when he shows up. I'm just in that mood to cook. I've also got plans for cookies. There's some kind of strange satisfaction I get, knowing that there's roughly two gallons of sauce reposing in my fridge, waiting to be used and abused. It makes me feel rich, in a very domestic way.

It'll be fun. It's always cool to have a houseguest, sort of a break in the routine. We're gonna see EP3, and hit up Red Bank, maybe go to NYC for some art museums. Oh, and of course, we're gonna LAN like dorks, and play WCIII, probably, and definitely WoW. So much fun to be raiding or PvPing with your gaming partner sitting 2 feet away. "Eek! I broke sheep! Sorry guys!" "Stupid hunter!" *thump* It adds a whole other level of immersion, when you're in thumping distance. It'll be a big treat for me to have a co-gamer around. It was a LOAD of fun last time. For some reason, he's got it in his head that he can outdrink me. Heh. That'll be fun to watch too :)

So, yesterday and today are sorta devoted to getting the house clean. Not that it wasn't, but it's not houseguest clean. You know, like "ok, we have company coming, it's time to once and for all get rid of the growing pile of junkmail on the counter" Normal everyday clutter has got to go. It's part of life, for me. I keep a clean house, but I need a good excuse to, say, put away the toenail clippers that have been inexplicably sitting on the antique sewing machine, forever.

Yeah, I don't know why I'm still sitting here typing, when I have so much stuff to do...and I'm burning daylight, bigtime. Yeah, yeah, I'm going.

On the heels of *growl*

Yesterday, the fighting. Today, the aftermath.


Yesterday was recoupreation day. After my blogging about it (which, for me, is the big step one of self-therapy) I felt better. He called me, from work, shortly after. He was feeling miserable, too. He wanted to see how I was feeling, and talk about it. I told him a lot of things that I blogged. The paranoia scares me, the fact that he's starting to hang on stuff he's IMAGINING, and going off about things he's got in his head. That's a big step, because he used to just fly off the handle, and pretend like nothing happened, after the fact. Now, now he wants to talk about it, examine why, see how I'm feeling, and most importantly, apologize for upsetting me. He used to have the mindset "What, I'm over it, sorry I got hot-headed, everything's fine though, you need to get over it..." Now he's genuinely remorseful. This comes from the discussion in September, and how he's learning to recognize me, and my feelings, and be keyed in.

When we got a few minutes alone, after he got home from work, the first thing he said to me was "You're right. This is never about you. It really is me." That was a first. I just stared at him. He continued, "you never get so upset, usually. Last night, when you were yelling back, I listened, and you are right." Some of the things I said, when I was fighting back, were to the effect of how selfish this tantruming is, how petty, how I have no way to defend against his bullshit accusations, how I'm sick of him dragging stuff out of the DEEP past, and throwing it in my face, and how bad it effects me. Again, a lot of what I blogged about. But, at 3 a.m. I was a zombie, and it was very stream-of-conciousness. I couldn't relate EXACTLY what I said, I understand the gist, but apparently, it was something that made him sit up and take notice, for the first (ok, second, I suppose) time.

I calmly told him yesterday, that he IS pushing me away, and every single time he does that, he unmakes ALL the stuff we've been working for, to patch the relationship back together. All the nice things we do, he says, all the thing I think we've accomplished, *poof* right out the window, when he does it. I told him, calmly, all I can think about, when laying there, too tired to cry, too stressed to sleep, in the aftermath, is leaving the situation, and taking Alden with me.

For the first time. I think he really internalized it. All I can do is give him the chance to prove it, and that will come with blissful, rage free time. Here's hoping, eh?

One thing, in his defense, is he doesn't just say stuff to smooth things over. He's never come out and said "You're right, I need to fix myself" So, that's a big deal to me. He's not a wordsmith, or a sweet talker. What he says, is.

*growl*

It's one of those miserable, no good, fucked up sort of days.

Yesterday wasn't so hot, either.

He picked a series of fights with me, starting last night, after 10:30. Then he blustered and raged and calmed the fuck down enough to fall asleep on the couch nearby.

Then he got up, noticed what time it was (1:30) and that I wasn't planning on going to bed anytime soon, and started it all over again.

I *was* planning on going to bed around 12:30, but after the fucking temper tantrum, I was like "yeah, no, fuck you I'll do what I want. I need time to cool down."

I get up and go to bed, around 2:15, on the heels of, yes folks, a THIRD fucking rage. This time, I was so tired, so strung out, so sick of the fucking mental abuse, I did what I don't do very often. I yelled back. It continued like this until about 3:30, and I laid awake for maybe another hour after that. Laying in bed, stiff, tense as a board. Wishing we had a spare room in this house, so I didn't have to sleep there. I may as well have slept standing up, I was so tense and miserable. Of course, after HE got what HE wanted to say, out of his system, in the most hurtful, raging, psychologically damaging way possible, HE fucking slept like a baby.

He woke up this morning, trotted off to work. I, however, slept through the alarm clock, and got up an hour ago. Yes, with Alden in the house, still. No, Alden didn't wake me up.

What did we fight about? Does it matter? No. Not when I can time his raging like clockwork. I can almost pinpoint what sets it off, and looking back, it's THE most petty thing, in the whole universe. It always it. I never know what I'm going to say or do, that sets this off, but when it's over, I can evaluate the events leading up to it, and say to myself "oh...never woulda guessed".

Nevermind that I can figure out what does it, he's going to do it again, and again, and again, relentlessly, every other day, every week, for a completely random and different reason each and every time. I walk on eggshells around him. I pick my words and actions so carefully. I spend most of the day running around keeping the business in line, making sure this house, and Alden are in peak condition, so that when he comes home, I'm infallible. He's got nothing to rage about. But he always manages to find something. Do I live in fear? No. I do try to do everything I can, to end this rage, these fights that he just blindsides me with. I've never, in our 8 years together, started one fight. I don't have to, I don't even get the chance, really. He brings it right to my lap.

He becomes a paranoid, ranting maniac. When he starts, it could be something in the now, that makes him go off, but for some reason, he yells about EVERYTHING that's EVER pissed him off since we've KNOWN each other. Last night...he managed to bring ex boyfriends that he never even MET, into it, somehow. Just attacking, like a pit-bull, everything he can. The worst thing, it's like he searches his brain for stuff to get mad ABOUT. Just to fire the rage along. Like the initial thing wasn't enough, he has to dig up things that happened 6 years ago, and throw it in my face, and get mad. Every single time. He's lately going so far, as to ASSUME things, and get them so worked around in his mind, that he's making things up about me, the things I do, how I spend my time when he's not around, and about stuff, and then yelling at me about it. That's what last night was about, mostly. He got an idea into his head, and I couldn't get it out, no matter what. I calmly denied his delusions, I tried to show him that he was wrong, that if he sat back and really thought about it, it *couldn't* be true. No matter that it was a total fabrication of his own paranoid imagination. Nevermind that there's no evidence supporting what he sorta picked out of the air, as the truth. He thought of it. It pissed him off. Guess who he takes it out on. That's what scares me, really. It used to be tangible things. Like the laundry, or whatever. I'd mumble my sorries and get my shit done, and everything would be fine. NOW he's got NOTHING. I function at 100%, and NOW he has to make up paranoid bullshit accusations.

Alden sees it. He used to do it almost every day. This is an example from a while back: One of the more notorious ones, where I swear he was actually going to snap and hit me, that one was caused because I left a basket of clothes on top of the washing machine unfolded. I didn't fold the laundry. At 8 pm, he decided he couldn't take it anymore, and threw the laundry at my feet, screaming, berating, hands flying, finger pointing in my face. He comes so close sometimes, I'm afraid one day, he's going to misjudge, and accidentally hit me. I almost want that to happen, because then I'll have a real reason. I never yell back. I used to burst into tears, right at the start, and he'd get it all out of his system, and we'd kiss and make up. That really bad time, that was the first time I sat there, unblinking, and let it wash over me. I just sat there, like a rock, with my arms folded. I told Alden to go in the other room. He was so infuriated, he started picking things off my desk, and hurling them. He grabbed my tower, and ripped it from the cords, and flung it across the living room, smashing this nice dent in the wall. Yeah, Alden sees it.

That's how I cope, though. I just sit, and let him blow himself out. To date, I almost never yell back. The few times I have, it was because he was targeting someone else. It happened when I was on the phone with a friend. Since I was ignoring him storming around me, and carrying on a calm conversation, the person on the phone became the target, and he grabbed the phone out of my hand and screamed at them, nasty, insulting things. Threats. That got me yelling.

Last night, I just had it. All this bullshit superficial stuff he does, to try and make things better. The flowers, the sweet things he's been buying me, all last weekend. The problem isn't solved. The treats, and nice times, it almost makes the really bad stuff stand out in sharp relief. It reminds me of those domestic abuse cases. "I'm sorry I beat the shit out of you baby, I don't know what came over me, I love you, let me back in the house, here I bought you flowers." He's never, to date, laid a hand on me, though. The violence is there. I think he knows that's the line. It's almost like, the nicer he is, inbetween rages, the more intense he goes off. Like, some kind of license to do it, or something.

I'm so tired. I'm so fucking tired of all that. It's like this dark vein of misery, in my otherwise very comfortable life. If it happened less, I could maybe deal with it. I can't keep having my nights, and days ruined like this though. Today, today, I overslept, because he wouldn't let me go to bed till almost 4, and I couldn't calm down enough, even then. I blame him, squarely. Alden has now missed a day of school because of it.

I called the school, and lied about his absence. I feel like shit. I feel like shit for having to do that, having to live this way, and having Alden live this way.

Whose name?

Yeah. Whose name should I put on the back of this ridiculous science project. You guys should know this about me already, I do not "do" his work for him. I'm involved with him while he does his work, but under no circumstances do I do anything besides guide and passively help. I will never tell him answers, or cut things out for him, or tell him where to glue the pieces. He's very self sufficient, when it comes to everyday work.

Last year, they made it mandatory for all students 3rd grade and up participate. THIS year, they're making everyone 1st grade on up participate.

This is 6 year olds, doing exhibits. Fucking mandatory.

It's simple, in idea. They have to do a 'habitat' diorama thing, choosing between the ocean, desert, mountains, forest, etc. Still sounds simple, right?

Find a box. "Alden, find a small box, or a shoebox. You have about 30 in your room. One that isn't too destroyed, please."

After producing and discarding about 10 beaten to shit ones, he comes out with a xerox paper box. "This one" he says. It's the size of well, yeah, it's huge. After an hour of box hunting, and arguing, I relent, and go pick one out for him. I'm already losing the "I'm not going to do it FOR you" battle.

I thought we would cover the outside of the box with his crayoned representation of the ocean, and what he thinks lives there. I offered suggestions, I showed him how to hold the crayon to the side, and use broad sweeping strokes to color the whole paper with blue. He's using huge newsprint. I said "you make two or three ocean murals, fast, just draw a bunch of fish and shells, and coral, and we'll see what we can do with them"

4 hours later.

The arteest was having oceanic block. He made one and a half. I grabbed up some various shades of blues and greens and started making ocean. It's a slippery slope, folks. I didn't draw anything, though, I just filled in the background.

Then, I had to wrap the inside and outside of this box with all this colorful paper. The outside is all mural, it looks nice, and all the surfaces inside but the very bottom are bluey-green swirly ocean, with a sandy colored bottom. But, try to imagine a 6 year old, even a really skilled and creative one, cutting and gluing paper, like giftwrap, to cover the whole inside and outside of a shoebox. Yeah, so I did that too.

They want stuff inside this box now. Interesting stuff.

After wrapping and gluing, I summon the child. I hand him some card stock, and I say "Draw nice fish, like this one *draws an example* big enough to cut out, and color. Draw some things from the ocean, we're going to cut them out" He's doing that now. It's been an hour and a half since I wrapped the box. The arteest has 4 fish, oh, one crab, one axe, and three smily faces. I stolidly refuse to even cut-color one thing.

We've got some frondy looking dried plant material for seaweed. Some playsand for the bottom. As soon as I get paper for my printer, we're gonna print out some nice pictures of coral, and shells and cut them out too.

"Alden's" project is tiring me out.


It really pisses me off, though. Mandatory? MANDATORY. They're going to have a science fair, where these projects are judged and graded. JUDGED. GRADED. He's SIX. I've done the bulk of it. It's all his art, though, and all his ideas. I'm just assembling the thing. But still, jesus christ in a corvette, he's got no interest in competition. He doesn't care if he wins or loses. They're forcing these kids to compete.

My point. A)Science fairs should be voluntary. This is the first time I've ever seen them force kids into it. Young kids.

B) Science fairs should be left to older kids, who can handle something as elaborate as a diorama, or whatever.

C) If he's being forced to participate, don't fucking TELL him what to do. I would have had him try to grow plants in the dark, or something, and write a paragraph on how plants need sun to grow. Draw pictures of the plants, have the seeds there, have some seeds that were sprouted in the sun. That's *just* the speed they're at in science, right now.


Furthermore, I know certain other mothers *cough*Harriet*cough* are spending loads of cash on little toy models and tons of scrapbooking paper, foam cutouts of stuff, etc, at the craft store. I flatly refuse to spend a penny on this. The boy needs to learn to use what he has, and be industrious. We have a megafuckington of craft supplies, and a megafuckington of imagination.




**Disclaimer: I never get this aggravated over normal work. I love helping him with normal projects and school stuff. This is sorta ridiculous.**

A simple thing to remember...

This is for everyone, now. When someone asks you "Can you give me a ride back from the car place, at 10, on Tuesday morning?" And you reply without hesitation "Sure! No problem." Maybe you should hesitate. Hesitate and process the request...write down the time...mentally go over your calendar for that day. Something, anything, so that said requestor (myself, in this case) doesn't leap out of bed Tuesday morning, elated, thinking they have a sure ride to the car place.

I called her to remind her, around 8:30. "Mom, remember around 9:45ish, we're going to Ultimate Audio, so I can get my stuff installed. I just need a ride home."

"10?"

"Yeah, 10."

"Oh, I can't make it, I've got a guy meeting me in Perth Amboy, about the house..."

"Tell him to meet you at 10:30."

"*stammer mumble* I'll give you money, to take a cab, home from the car place..."

"No."

"Well, let's go right now, then. You can drop your car off and leave the keys in it."

"No. I have an appointment at 10."

"But..."

"You said you would. Don't promise me things like that, if you're not sure, I'm really relying on you today."

Then came the discussion about when she promised, how, and why didn't I force her to write it down? Then came resignation.

"Fine, be ready at 9:40 SHARP."

"I was already dressed."



SOMETIMES *I* feel like the parent. She's not EVEN coming to pick me up. Earl got home early, from wherever he goes early in the morning, and she enlisted him.

I wish...

...allergy season were over.

...I didn't have sunburn on my lower back.

...Alden did all his homework last night, rather than hide this one sheet under his placemat, for me to discover upon cleaning the kitchen after he went to bed.

...they didn't force 1st graders to do a science project.

...the new computer were here.

...for an enormous, earthshaking thunderstorm.

...my Blazer weren't rusting.

Mmm

This weekend has been great (not over yet...) But damn. I never get one birthday-day. It's always like Birthweek, for me. Mother's Day falls very close to my birthday, so I get all the time between, as birthday-special-time. I don't plan it that way, it' just happens.

Friday, we did like I said, went out to Noodles and More, for Thai food, then we walked around Redbank. The weather was PERFECT for Redbank, and I feel like even though the place has changed so much, it's still so much the same.

We even went into Earth Spirits. It was cool, because Jocelyn was there, she's a sweet, kind, happy woman. The guy that works there, I don't like him. I feel alternately under his Eye (like a bug under a microscope), when I shop there, and given the coldest shoulder. This store, it's one of those mystical shops, that sells stones, herbs, and tarot cards, and the like. I've been shopping there for about 11 years. Ever since I could get myself to Redbank pretty much. Now, when I was 16, I can understand being scrutinized. Even at that age, I had a friend that would go in there (without me, thank god) and buy up random herbs, to see what smoking them would be like. So, I can fully understand the suspicion of a rowdy teenager in a store like that. But really. The same treatment? After I've been a devoted customer, for all this time (and I've never ONCE smoked any of the herbs I've gotten from there, I swear it). But, it was a mostly pleasant experience. I found a beautiful goddess statue, that I've sorta wanted for awhile, and bought it on the spot, along with a few other things. Jocelyn and I were talking about all manner of things, real estate, Boris her old dog, from way back, Sammy her new dog (that I mistook for Boris, they're both schnauzers and they're identical), the shop's impending move to a few blocks away, etc. Then sourpuss guy walks in, walks behind the counter, and engages Jocelyn in a conversation, placing himself directly between her and I, putting his back to me. How rude is that? I remembered why I stopped coming in there. When she's there, I'm filled with warmth and love, and I want to shop there, and be friends with everyone. When he's there, I feel like walking in the door is a mistake.

Soanyway. I got a sweet new figure, and we had a blast walking around in Red Bank. I wish we didn't run so late, I would have liked to walk around Marine Park, some. It was that nice of a day.

Later on, we went to Portuguese Manor, for dinner. My longtime favorite fancy resturaunt. We spent the hour wait, in the bar, naturally. I ordered a drink I look forward to, between visits, this Brazilian concoction of half a chopped lime, and sugar, sorta pounded together, and this alcohol called cachaca, over ice. It's called Caipirinha. It's really REALLY potent. I ordered one, and Manny, the bartender froze for a second. "Do you know what that is?" I smiled. "Of course." Half the bottle of cachaca went into that drink, seemingly. It's like a really smooth white rum, slightly sweet, and more complex, but with the same kick as 151. Limes, sugar, and superbooze. It's like whoever invented this drink had me in mind :). It took me about 45 minutes to gently sip my way through it. I was going slow, it was tasting so good, and I had this warm glow going. Then I went up and ordered another one. Manny raised his eyebrow. I smiled and put my empty glass on the bar.

Good thing I always order the same thing, every time I go there, because by the middle of that second drink, we got seated, and I was feeling no pain. Me. Two drinks. I know, right? I got the filet mignon, Portuguese Style, which was a softball sized cut of filet, covered with ham, and this rich brown garlic sauce. Served with fried thick cut potato chip things, steamed veggies, and a mountain of yellow rice. It's easily my favorite meal, ever. EVER. This is what I would order for my last meal, if I ever got the death sentence. From the salad, with the house dressing (omg, it's spicy! Like a spicy, sweet, creamy French dressing) to the country-style bread, creamy onion soup, clams with Portuguese sausage (I let the mister have the clams, I dip in the sauce and nibble the sausage), the steak, and the white chocolate and chocolate mousse topped with ganache. Oh yeah, and the half a pitcher of red sangria I drank, when my caipirinha was empty. Every time I go there, it's The Perfect Meal. Dinnergsam.

Logged into the game, for a little bit, when I got home, and got some great birthday wishes from friends. Lots of naked dancing, and nice presents. Had a few more margaritas, too. Went to bed completely smashed, tired, happy. It was most pleasant.


Yesterday was good too. Made the appointment for my big birthday present, all new speakers for the Blazer, as well as an amp. Good times. I'll be dropping the car of Tuesday morning. I can't wait. I love music so much, and I hate having it ruined by a crackly bad speaker. Also, ran out and got crickets, then to the Asian market. Got a whole truckload of fresh veggies, which I came home and cooked into a most alluring Thai chicken soup.

My mom came over last night, to deliver my present, and visit. I hooked her up with some soup, and she LIKED it. My MOTHER. ATE something with LEMONGRASS in it. She's a very plain eater. She doesn't like exotic flavors. She happily devoured chicken, coconut, lemongrass, chili paste, and cilantro. Then she ate a steamed roast pork bun, and a red bean paste bun, on top of it. If THAT's not a testament to my cooking, nothing is.

This morning, I got woken up to a suprise breakfast, the mister went shopping early this morning, and made omelets (for him and the boy, I don't eat eggs) and this skillet stuff he makes, with all the random meats we have in the fridge. (we have a lot, considering how much time we spend at the Ukranian Butcher) so it was fried spicy potatoes, kielbasa, Hungarian sausage, Irish bacon, and normal breakfast sausage, with green peppers, onions, and garlic, and spicy as hell, I love it. He also made a huge fruit salad, with strawberries, pitted fresh black cherries, apple, mango, banana, watermelon, and canteloupe. That was the big suprise, he's never done that before. I loooove fruit for breakfast, it's my favorite thing.

He's really gone all out, to make my days special. It's nice to see.

I'm sitting here drinking a huge glass of ice water, and finishing up my coffee, wondering what he's got up his sleeve for the rest of the day...

They have names!

b. vagans= Scarlett
n. chromatus= Bones
a. geniculata= Lucretia

Thank you Michele!

Wow, I wonder if this is my suprise!

The mister just showed up, with a dozen red roses, and one blue. 13 roses.

Once, I half jokingly said I would run away, with The Tick. I was like "That's all I need, right now, that big blue superhero to show up at my door, with blue roses, and I'm gone" The next morning, I woke up to a boquet of 13 blue roses, and this long letter of "I love you, let's get through this".

It was right after we got engaged, and after we moved in together, only I was so lost-confused-etc, I was staying back at my mom's house for a week, while she was on vacation. Michele was there, that morning, he actually broke into my mom's house, to leave that stuff on the table for me.

So, the blue rose is really meaningful *sniffle* I'm beside myself.

He's being extra super sweet, this week.

It's that time again!

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I have three new baby spiders to name. Huge and black and white, black white and red, and red and black.

Any suggestions?

Sooo...this is 27.

This year's birthday is looking to be very low key, and pleasant. It's a Michele Day, so we're hanging out, getting some Thai food, maybe go on a road trip somewhere. The mister has a suprise for me tonight, so I'm looking forward to that. This is the first year he's actively participating in my birthday, if that makes sense.

Last year, he took the day off, and just sorta got dragged around, while I did all stuff I wanted to do. It was pleasant, and spending time with him -during the season- like that, was a honor in its own right. But, he's never been one to make plans. He's not the "buy a present, wrap it, throw a party, bake a cake, suprise the lady somehow" kind of guy. Generally, he asks in advance, in March sometime what I want. Usually it's some type of electronics. This year, I asked for speakers for the Blazer, since the system in there...sucks. So, normally, that would be it. Dinner, speakers shopping. This year, it's a suprise. I'm interested in seeing what he has cooked up. Oh, he's suprised me once before, that's right. He took me to a concert, the day before my birthday, some years back, that actually, fully was a shock. Maybe I should wear my concert gear, out to dinner...

Either way, today is gonna be great. My mom asked me if I felt old, last night. I didn't, till she asked me. Then, of course I got all manner of shit about my age, in /g last night (Opti, you bastard) But Lucius consoled me. He said "no, you look way younger than 27, you're youthful in everything you do, you're very young at heart. You play videogames! That's SO childish!" (this coming from my steady gaming companion...) He has such a way with words. So, yeah, that made me feel a lot better.

Though, I wonder, at times, what 27 is supposed to look like.

High Adventure

I love hearing from my dad, it makes my whole week. I love, even more, when we're both bubbling over with news, and the conversation flows forever. Sometimes, you know, there's not a whole lot going on, so it's like "how are you?" "good. not much going on here, though." "how are YOU guys?" "decent, quiet, same as usual"

This morning, he called, at 7 a.m. and we *just* got off the phone a few minutes ago. I LOVE sharing great news with them, like the fact that we're going to visit them in December, lots of good stuff going on with the business, Irv's new tattoos, mine, just random little news. They're pretty much the same way, Chris is graduating, Dad's coming here in June, etc etc. Good stuff.

I can't believe Chris is graduating...goddamn I feel old. Hell. I AM old. I'm gonna be 27, Friday. But, my god, I still see Chris as the annoying 6 year old, that he was, when I lived there. College, in the fall. Soon, he'll be moving to the states, and coming to stay with either us, or his relatives down in GA. to go to a tech school.


Yesterday was a Day of Perpetual Motion. Just, out and running from the morning. This whole past week has been, come to think of it. We topped the night off, by going to Mush's shop, and getting Irv some ink. He got my name, and Alden's name, tattooed inside his wrists, with some cool looking vines, all twined up in our names, I'm on his right wrist, Alden is on his left. The print is this sweet looking Celtic style. It's very elegant, but not girly... He also got the signatures around his Anthrax tattoo, from the band, completeing the piece. (he had the old Anthrax logo, the Not! guy. We got their autographs, when we met them, so he wanted them placed around the tat.) He's happy, he never gets a chance to visit Mush's place.

We brought Alden to the place, and he got invited in the room, to watch Mike do a piercing. That was so cool, he explained every step, like Alden was apprenticing. When that was done, Alden came in the room with us, and watched the tattooing procedure. I explained what a privilage it is, for a kid to be in a place like that, and treated with such equality. I mean, what kid gets to witness a piercing? A fun time was had by all. I'll be going in sometime this or next week, to have my greenman worked on. Small doses, for that one...small doses.

Today is looking like it's gonna go in the same vein. I have a few errands to run, after I drop Alden off, but then I have to come right home and wait for my spiders *wiggle with excitement* they're coming in today! The house has to be cleaned, Mush and Kenn are coming over tonight, to discuss the rental agreement. I'm so excited about that, I feel like they're gonna be excellent tenants, they're as worried about the whole "business between friends" thing as I am. Contracts will be drawn up, asses will be covered, they make great money (more than us, probably) So, I think this will be a good thing. Plus, there's the added bonus of having one of my best friends living right next door.

The only yucky thing about that, is I have to file for a pension loan, file for permits, again, get an electrician, and contact my heating guy. Starting the GC business up again is going to be a miniature nightmare for me, considering the time I had with it over the past few years. It's just a hard horse to get back on, even if it is for all the best possible reasons. But, now I have a super motivation. It'll be nice to have that as income, too, once all the dust settles.

See? Life is good. All my entries are boring, and bubbly. I should go stub my toe, or something.

GRARGH what IS it with the dying!?

Just after I finished making that post about the spiders, I cuise over to check on them, and the mouse. The mouse isn't a pet, the mouse is food for Grim, my ball python. We buy a nice rodent, whenever we go to the Snake Pit (because he has good, quality mice, and we get there maybe twice a month) powerfeed the little bugger, and when Grim gets hungry, he's got a nice, fattened, happy, nutritionally complete mousie waiting for him. We always have a mouse in a tank, waiting. Call it a temporary pet, I guess. Makes me heartless to be able to hang on to something for 2 weeks or more, then feed it to my snake, but, it's the nature of things.

Got this mouse, last week.

It's dead.

What. The. Fuck. Fed, watered, normal tank, lots of cottony fluff to hide in. Same like all the rest of the mice I've housed till "feeding time" I've kept some, a month or more. This one just, died.

I'm getting rather frustrated.

Not a good week for the Babies.

Sunday morning, I get up, and go to mist down the spiders. You remember the spiders, right? I blogged about them. My lovelies.

Roady, my mature male OBT is out of his hide, at the edge of his tank. Straaaange....he's usually reclusive, unless he's hunting. I fed him a few days ago, and he didn't eat, there were dead crickets in his tank. I misted his enclosure with water, dripping some on him, too. That normally sends a spider fleeing. Roady...was dead. Poor little orange bastard. When I got him, though, I knew I wouldn't have him forever. First off, he was badly mistreated, missing a leg, dehydrated, living in a takeout container with a cottonball, and no substrate. Bad scene. Secondly, I found out he was male. When males reach maturity, it's only a matter of time, before they die, that's just the way it is. Since I had no idea how long he was full grown for, I had no idea what to expect from his life-span. I had him for 7 months, and he was a good, interesting, vicious pet. It saddens me, but, it doesn't suprise me.

The one that REALLY got to me, was Luci. I fed them all, Sunday, as well. I love watching them eat. Luci and Dulce both have been reclusive lately, but, when I peer into their burrows with a flashlight I can see them. Sunday night, all the crickets I threw in their enclosures were gone (Opti ate something like seven crix!)except Luci's. I shined my flashlight into her hide, to check on her, and I saw something strange, sort of like her underside, or an exuvia or something, like she moulted and it was still in there. I used my tweezers to pick the molt out of her hide, like I always do...and she was half attached to it, dead :( She must have died mid-moult. My poor baby. She was only about an inch across, and just starting to show those striking colors that she's reknowned for. Black, with stark white banding around her legs, and long reddish rusty colored hairs on her abdomen.

So, yeah, that one upset me.

The rest are thriving, though. Opti just moulted AGAIN, I've never seen a spider grow so fast, or eat so much, he's INSANE. He sits in his hide all day waiting for food to rain from the sky, then he pops out like an orange muppet from hell, and dissapears with his prey. Great stuff. Priscilla is fat, and fine, mincing around her tank, like the princess she is. Speck is about half an inch across now, quadrupled in size, from when I got her, and can almost finish a whole cricket, in one sitting. She's starting to get some of her stripey markings, too. Dulce is normal, timid, and doing well. Nasty is...well, nasty.

I placed an order to Swift's last night, I couldn't help myself. I'm getting another Giant White Knee, like Luci, and something called a "Brazilian Red & White" Both tiny babies, at 1/4".

I'm excited about them coming in.

WoW related entry no. 3773

I love being level 60.

I love LOVE PvP. I'm a bloodthirsty bitch.

I love Teamspeak. I love PvP and Teamspeak.

I even love raiding. I love Scholomance. Coolest "haunted house" EVER.

I love socking money away for our epic mounts. I love having something to work towards.

I love this game.

Blast from the Past

I've been thinking about Dan a lot lately. A whole lot. First, it's that time of year. When we were together-but-not-quite, 8 years ago. Secondly, Mush and Kenn hang out with him a lot, so I get second hand Dan news from them. The other day, they told me he got into an accident, and totalled his motorcycle. He made it out with barely a scratch, but by all accounts, he should have been injured terribly. His bike is totalled. I felt TOTAL pangs of sympathy, I wanted to call him, see how he was doing, etc.

Today...so weird...we were driving down Rt. 18, and just as we passed Rues Lane (the very intersection where he had his accident...) Sisters of Mercy "When You Don't See Me" came on. Yes, "our" song. The song he made me listen to, and when I fell in love with it, he gave me the CD. The song whose lyrics he wrote on the card for the first (of many) boquet of thirteen white roses, he sent me. As my "secret admirer" (though, with that song, really how secret can it be? To me, anyway.)

Mush and Kenn are going to be renting the house next door, very soon. Dan will be coming around for sure. Is 8 years long enough? Is there enough water under that bridge, I wonder, that we can be buddies again? I mean, we were friends first, after all. I decided, it wouldn't be terrible, to see him, and say hi, again.

Pop song!

Yeah, over 5 months. I know. No one's here, no one's going to read this. That's refreshing.

Blogging comes from misery. Last year, the year before, they were miserable. Now? I'm happy. No, really. Genuinely, wake up every day smiling, happy. The house is done. The house is DONE. I've fallen into a happy little niche, working, playing World of Warcraft, being a domestic. I go to bed early, sleep soundly, wake up early. The house is clean, dinner gets put on the table every night. It's. Amazing. Like Dan said, the other night. I may as well go write pop songs.

Here it is, here's my pop song entry.

WoW. It's gone past diversionary, it's more like a Life Hobby. It's what I do, when I don't have other things to do. It's what I do when I'm putting off other things. It's a huge thing, for me. I run a guild, now. A real, functioning, huge group of people, with more coming in every day. We do stuff together. We help each other, we have a reputation. I wouldn't actually say I "run" it. I more like tie things together. THEY run it. I just make it happen.

It's a fun thing, though. You guys remember from my earlier posts, maybe, how totally smitten I was by the game. I'm still that smitten, after like 7-8 months. Every day, something makes me go "oooh..." every day, I look forward to logging in and seeing people, and doing things. That's quite a stretch for me. After this long, normally, shit like that becomes a job. I won't say it's been smooth sailing. We've DEFINITELY had turbulence, along the way. All guilds have some degree of drama. Ours was no exception. My motto regarding that? "The problems take care of themselves" and, guess what? They did. We're back to Drama Free living, it's one of the things Out Of Hand is famous for. Good shit right there. So, the game is fun. The people are...indescribable. I'm addicted to the people in the game, less the game. If I played it solo, I would have quit three months ago. I love LOVE the people. Some more than others.

If I start writing here, it's going to be a lot about WoW, simply because it's interesting, to me.

Real life? Same way. Turbulence, a little. Mostly smooth sailing. Alden is the hardest nut to crack right now. He's having a rough time of things, in school. He's "so bright, but he lacks the focus to get his work done" Hello! Where have we heard that before? He aces all his work, when he sits down to do it. Getting him to sit down to do it, however, is its own set of challenges. He's very VERY keyed in to learning, he knows. He just, suprisingly, knows. His teacher says he spends class time playing, screwing with other students, flapping around, fidgeting, drawing, talking...but as soon as she calls on him, bang, he knows the answer. Unfortunately, the OTHER kids, that he's hassling, talking to, flapping in front of...they don't have it so easy. He's a mega distraction. Hell, I know. She doesn't have to tell me that...I LIVE it. He's also very insanely impulsive. Bad. He should be outgrowing that, but he's getting worse. We keep him on a tight schecule, close at home supervision, trying to shape him, at home, into how he should be at school. Focused, competant, quiet, polite. Hah. Hehehe. Yeah, it's a job, in itself.

Harriet's still around, though I see her infrequently. She's been busy working full time lately, so that cuts down on after-school-girly-gossip time. I sorta...miss her. There's a part in my life that's kinda lacking when she's not around. Someone to trade recipes with, talk about "the kids", "the husbands", "the boyfriends", and general gossip about stuff. Just some semi-superficial primal needs, going unmet, when I don't hang out with her. I even miss..dun dun DUN...her drama. Drama when it's someone elses...it's interesting. (Why else do people read blogs? Exactly.)

I get the urge to write. A lot of times, when I shower, or when I drive, the thoughts flow, like they used to. I think "I should bust that blog open, and document this." Heh, yeah. I should, but I don't. Well, today I am, isn't that cool? I'll try to more. Spring is here, and my mind is out of hibernation. I think it has to do with that. The world is awake, now, and my writing centers are, too.

I'll be back. Soon.