Being older sucks

It really does.

When I was younger, I couldn't wait to be older.  The freedom and the options that were available seemed countless. I think though, that when I wanted to be older, I just wanted to be in my twenties and thirties.  I didn't really consider my 40's and beyond.

Now, readers of my blogs past know that my 30's were kind of a bust.  Filled with babies, school, work and drunk husbands.  So I didn't enjoy them quite the way I expected to.  So I figure that I will make up for that in my 40's. yah!

Except getting older means BEING older.  It's not just the freedom and the options.  It also means the responsibilities, and living with the knowledge of BETTER.  I know better than to act crazy.  I know that while I have freedoms and options, I know better than to exercise them all.  Being older and having kids means mom stuff.  Cooking, cleaning, driving, counseling, scolding and all that other shit we have to do.  Being older means bills, and debt, and groceries.

Being older also comes with a price.  The 'older body'.  This is when we truly pay for the advice we didn't take in our earlier years.  Not wearing good support bras while developing means our tits are no longer perky.  Not eating right while pregnant means the endless struggle to get rid of this "I had kids" body.  Not exercising as a habit means having to muster up the energy to start later in life, and that is no easy task.  This body that aches when I sleep a little bit wrong.  Skin that I didn't properly moisturize in my 20's means fine, or NOT so fine lines in my 40's. 

I don't even know what I could have done better to avoid a little peeing when I laugh, sneeze or basically breathe too loudly.  More kegels?  Perhaps.

The peri-menopausal nonsense has been lingering for a year or so now.  The night sweats are the worst.  Waking up cold and dewy from sweat is not going to have me leaping out of bed thinking, "what a great day this is going to be!"  I wake up hoping that it's sweat and not pee.  And being so damn cold, I don't want to get out from under the covers.  And thinking about how I need to wash the sheets, again. 

I have found that the best way to stop the incontinence is to wear a tampon.  It blocks off just enough of the urethra.  They make special tampons for this, but they cost twice as much, so why bother?  The problem with this is that I still have to wear a damn tampon all day, when I'm not on my period.  And while I'm at it, when is THAT bleeding nonsense going to end??  Its bad enough that my peri-menopausal periods means I'm spotting for almost a week before and after a 2 day period.  I have no use for my uterus anymore.  You can hear the eggs screaming as the fall into oblivion.  There will be no more babies.  Can you just NOT? 

When I see women my age and beyond.  I see how gorgeous they look and how put together they seem.  Sometimes I admit I am snarky about it, but they are my age, so I know they are going thru this shit too.  It's not just me.  So ladies, I salute you.  It really does take A LOT to look as good as you do.  There's a lot going on under the surface. 

Nobody 'woke up like this'.




The prowler that wasn't

So the other night I was in my room and I could hear something in the backyard.  It wasn't wind.  There were footsteps.  Just outside my patio door.

Shit. Shit. SHIT

So I get out of bed and reach for the gun.  I wasn't really sure what to do.  Should I chamber a round so the person could hear it?  Should I yell out the patio door, "I called the police. And I have a gun!"?  Instead I decided to go down the hallway and look out the patio door by the kitchen. 

I moved slowly, watching the boys bedroom doors so they don't come out and see me holding a weapon.  When I got to the end of the hall I still wasn't ENTIRELY sure what I was going to do.  I thought I should have a fucking plan.  I really should have a Standard of Operation here.  I should know what to do. 

The thing is I know what I can do in regards to actually shooting.  I know that I can't shoot someone who isn't in my house.  I know that if that person isn't armed, and isn't trying to hurt me, I can't shoot them.  To be honest, I am not even sure I WOULD shoot.  I'd like to think I'd be brave enough to protect myself of my children if I have to.  At this point, I won't know until I have to. 

So the gun, at this moment, is a scare tactic.

I come around the corner, facing the patio door.  I have a stance.  Legs shoulder width apart.  Knees slightly bent.  Gun forward. 

And there he was.

My dog.

Fucking MAX! 

When I locked up the house, his crate door was closed so I assumed he was inside.  He wasn't.  He didn't bother to bark or anything to let me know he was outside, he just decided to walk around outside my door.  I felt really ridiculous. So I set the gun down and let the dog in.  Give him a few pets and apologize for pointing a gun at him.  He didn't care.  He was not at all impressed by my "stance." 

This is the shit that happens to me!  I continually tell the Man that he has hooked up with Lucy Ricardo.

Later, the Man asked if I had a bullet in the chamber.  I didn't.  He reminded me that I should have put one in the chamber, because if you NEED to chamber your weapon, it can be too late.  check.  No matter though, I wasn't going to shoot the dog. 

I do realize that I practiced very bad knowledge of protecting myself.  I have since discussed it with the man, and I now have a plan.


Adventures in eyelashes

If you follow me on Facebook you will notice that I've been posting more photos of my face, done up with make-up.  Now if you know me, you'll know that makeup is not something that I wear too often.  So why now? 

Well, I'm doing it for a boy.  I know, it sounds ridiculous, but I figure that it wouldn't kill me to try and look nice for the man when he's home.  I'm making an effort. 

Ok, it's more than an effort.  It's a bit of a makeover, but if I'm gonna do something, I'm gonna do it right, and with smoky eyes!

One thing I know he always likes is eyelashes.  It's the oldest trick in the book, batting the eyelashes and all that girly shit.  However, there's a reason it's the oldest trick in the book, cause it tends to work.  My own eyelashes are horribly short so for me to have any eyelash game, I have to wear fake ones.  I have never been great at putting them on, so I went to Professor YouTube and watched a video or two, or three.  Or probably twenty.  However, now I am pretty darn good at it and I can bat my eyes along with the rest of them.

The problem with Prof. YouTube is that its not like in the old days where a magazine would show you how to do it and that's how you do it.  Oh no, there's 100 videos of different ways to do it.  There are options.  Techniques.  Looks!!  Now I have to consider what LOOK I'm going for, and it's more than just "day or night."  So the research takes time. 

Also in the process, I'm learning about my face.  Learning where my cheekbones are, and where I want them to APPEAR to be.  Contouring is a thing!!  And hooded eyes.  I have slightly hooded eyes.  I didn't know that- so there's a different way to wear eyeshadow for hooded eyes.  The lessons are endless. Don't know what hooded eyes are?  There's a youtube channel.  Stephanie Lange.  She'll tell you all about it.  Also, I love listening to her Aussie voice. 

It's no wonder kids are so spoiled these days.  There's so many options!!!  In my youth you put your foundation up on with your fingers, or maybe one of those wedge sponges.   Now you have silicon applicators, these egg shaped sponges, the wedges, brushes, or your fingers.  How do you choose, well, apparently it depends on what kind of LOOK you want.  Again with the look. 

I found out today that while putting on foundation with a brush FEELS damn fancy, it doesn't give you that blended smooth look that the sponge does.  My foundation today looked very thick.  However that is also because I forgot to use my primer. And primer!  That's another new thing I didn't know about.  Maybe when I was young and my skin was naturally dewey and fresh I didn't have to worry about it.  but now, the primer helps keep my skin moist and will avoid your foundation looking dry or thick.  Maybe because I'm older and my skin is NOT so fresh and dewey anymore. I need things like primer. 

And I have so many new brushes, each are used for something different.  I am going to need to label them. 

I admit though, that I don't hate the way I look.  I think maybe I look closer to 40 than 50.  Not that I'm trying to look younger.  I have no illusions that I'm fooling anybody.

My next thing is about my brows.  I don't know what to do with them.  One seems higher than the other, and I don't know if I should fill it in higher, or just dance with the brows  I came with.  Also should I draw them in to line up with the corners of my eyes?  Should I use brown, a soft black?  It can get out of hand fast. 

More research. 

However I realized today that posting selfies on Facebook like a teenager makes me look like, well, a teenager.  So I am going to stop that.  I can do that on Instagram and look and feel less ridiculous.

Also I can put pictures here, cause it's my blog after all.


The kids are eating WHAT?

Really?  Laundry pods?  What in the ACTUAL hell is wrong with kids these days?  I have seen meme's all over about it, and today I looked up if it was an actual real thing. 


OMG, it's true.  Todays youth is so stupid that they are eating laundry detergent, for an internet joke?
I really think this is the answer. 
This has been a running joke since 2013.  However I'm not entirely sure at what point people ACTUALLY started eating them.  However a story came across my feed that about 40 people have been poisoned by them, THIS YEAR.  It's only the 18th people!
I wonder about the parents of these kids.  You know someone is going to blame the internet for this.  I just wonder when I'm going to see the first post come across my facebook feed from a distraught parent, warning other parents about the dangers of internet memes.  Then they will tell us in horrific detail about how their child was poisoned, because they bit into a detergent packet.  Probably start a gofund me, for the medical expenses because their child was not smart enough not to eat LAUNDRY SOAP.  Give it time.
Do kids not get their mouths washed out with soap anymore?  Is that why this is happening?  I would think that anyone who has ever had to bite into a bar of ZEST will know, without a doubt, anything that smells like soap does NOT go in your mouth.  It's something that sticks with you, and you NEVER forget that. 
I have read a lot of stupid things on the internet, but this has to be in the top 10. 
Jerkface (age 15) came out today and said, mom, I saw this thing on the internet, that kids are doing.  And I said "Eating Tide pods" and he said "Yes, oh my god.  Why are people so fucking stupid?" 
It's nice to have the occasional reminder that I didn't raise an idiot.



Fuck.  Why am I here again? 

I constantly start and stop writing.  I don't know what inspires me or DE-inspires me.  But it's something.  And I keep coming back.

I considered going back to writing smut.  Cause that's something I do well.  Erotica is one of those things I do love to write, and I know I did it well.  However, that just isn't in me right now.  Maybe later.  For now, I just feel like writing. 

Life is just awesome.  I think of when I started this blog, and how much pain I was in when it started, and it just makes me sad to think about it.  How could that have happened to me?  How did I allow those things to occur in my life back then?  But they did, and I survived it.  How?  Why?  Because I didn't have a choice.  It's that simple.  I'm not a woman who wallows FOREVER.  For a while maybe, but eventually I get tired of the drama and the negativity.  I get tired of MYSELF and look for a way out.

Mike's death still takes a toll on me though.  I still think about him every day.  I still see things that I think HE would think were are funny, and think "oh I gotta tell him about that."  And then I remember he's gone.  I am not sure when that will ever go away.

I am less angry though.  The bad memories, on most days, have faded out of my periphery and I tend to remember the better times.  The funny times.  I'm just built that way.  My brain is built to forgive and forget, and this time, perhaps that's a good thing. 

But as I was saying, life is awesome.  2017 was a pretty great year for me.  I got laid off from the hospital, and it has been the best thing that could have happened.  I'm working from home now and I LOVE it.  There are challenges, but over all, I really recommend it. 

I have days though that I just don't have the motivation.  There are days that I am too mentally distracted to really accomplish anything.  Luckily though, I don't have daily tasks.  Just jobs that need to be completed in a timely manner.  So as long as I give myself a realistic completion date, I can stand to skip a day or be less productive here and there.  It works for me and it works for my family.  The kids love it, I love it, the man loves it. 

I'm hoping 2018 will be more of the same.  Happy New Year.

Do I believe in God?

It's weird how so many of my "deep thoughts" come from things I see on the internet.

I'm not religious.  I'm not an atheist.  I'm not agnostic. 

I'm different.

I guess you can say that I have believed in a god.  A higher power.  I went through a few spiritual moments in my life- but I admit that I've never "had god" in my life.  I grew up loosely as a Jehovah's Witness but that never really took with me.  Maybe because it didn't make sense, although some of it did.  Maybe because I was too selfish, because I was. 

One branch of my family were heavy "pot smoking jesus freaks".  Yes, that's what I called them when I was a kid- because it just seemed weird to me.  I don't use that term anymore, but I think it felt more like a fan club than a religion.  I was into Duran Duran, but I didn't talk about Simon LeBon all the time. 

Also, they were pot smokers, and to my young eyes, that was illegal- and you can't be a good Christian when you are blatantly doing illegal stuff. 

Into my adulthood I had friends that went to church regularly.  Some spoke of religion as it was something they did, but didn't try to push it on me.  I could respect whatever you do on Sunday as long as you live up to it the rest of the week.  I didn't always see that.  I was engaging in premarital sex- lots of it, and so therefore god wouldn't accept me.  I think I felt that I wasn't good enough for god so I simply ignored it and thought maybe someday I would get to that line on my list of things to do.  Travel, have children, mop the floors, find god.  Just like that.

When my late husband was alive and addicted, I found a higher power that indeed saved my sanity.  I needed it, so I found it.  I needed him and he was there.  Or maybe that's what I tell myself because it worked.  Its so convenient that god will be there when you need him, and when you don't- he'll wait.  Then when you need him again, there he is.  He always answers when you call and if you don't call, he's still watching.  He's always there if you seek him.  Perhaps god is really the biggest doormat ever. 

I believe in facts and science and miracles.  I believe in faith, and in some ways I believe that people coming together in prayer and meditation does create a certain energy.  I am always calmed in houses of worship, even if I am not worshipping.  I think prayer or meditation is a good thing if it centers your mind and brings down your heart rate and helps you sleep at night. 

Do I believe in god?  I don't know.  The "proof" that people claim can usually be explained by science.  Sometimes crazy things happen.  People survive when they shouldn't.  But people also die when they shouldn't.  I have known and seen the most devout and good Christian woman die from cancer at a young age.  That was when I decided, "if there is a god, he's a jerk and I really don't want to subscribe to that magazine anymore." 

I do believe that religion is a way to control the masses.  Laws bigger than the laws of the land.  For that, I guess I'm somewhat grateful.  However, whose god are we talking about?  Different cultures pray to different gods, and if we are to assume that there is only one- then that means that an enormous chunk of the human race is "godless" because they were not born where THAT god ruled supreme.  Or perhaps there are a few different gods.  You can believe in god A, B or C- but stay the fuck away from D or E cause if you do- you're going to hell.  Ok, but nobody believes in gods A-C in some parts of the world, so I guess those people are fucked right?  Sorry, bad genetics, worse geography, not enough google searches for "the one true god." 

It's confusing and frustrating and sometimes frightening. 

 I figured I shouldn't bother believing if I wasn't going to do it "right."  Therefore, I'm fucked because I don't know what's right.  A few years back, I came to an understanding that perhaps God doesn't expect that I know everything.  That it's ok that I question.  That I don't have to be perfect to believe or doubt my beliefs. That helped.  I still don't know that I believe though.  However, I suspect when I need him, he'll be there.  Until then, he will wait.  Doormat.