tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25343265038089050002024-03-18T19:45:12.631-07:00Julie, Do Ya Love Me?Men are from earth. Women are from earth. Deal with it.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-72048729369445068262019-01-10T23:47:00.001-08:002019-01-10T23:47:19.737-08:00What I believe....So there's this new song called "You Say" and it's a lovely song. The girl who sings it is a new artist and she has a stellar voice. She reminds me of Adele, and I could listen to that voice for days. Except.... there's a verse in this song that makes me cringe. <br />
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<em>I keep fighting voices in my mind that say I’m not enough<br />Every single lie that tells me I will never measure up<br />Am I more than just the sum of every high and every low?<br />Remind me once again just who I am, because I need to know (ooh oh)</em></div>
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<em>You say I am loved when I can’t feel a thing<br />You say I am strong when I think I am weak<br />You say I am held when I am falling short<br />When I don’t belong, oh you say that I am yours<br />And I believe</em> </div>
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Pretty right? Lovely song, lovely sentiment. And then this part....</div>
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<em>The only thing that matters now is everything you think of me<br />In you I find my worth, in you I find my identity</em></div>
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Wait. Hold up. STOP. Those two sentences I find really scary and dangerous and HARMFUL. to anyone really. I can say this because I've been there. I've felt that way. And that's just co-dependent DISASTER. You simply should not, and CANNOT think this way. You can't tie your self worth to someone else's opinion of you. Not your boyfriend, your girlfriend, your parents, your best friend. Don't do it. I had to learn the hard way, that my worth is not dependent on someone else's opinion of me. I had to learn to divorce myself from caring so much about what others thought of me, and believe me, that was NOT easy for me. I fell in love and fell into co-dependency. In two different scenarios and both were equally damaging for me. I encourage everyone to divorce themselves from that kind of thinking. I understand what it is to be in love, and what it is for it to matter what the person you love thinks about you- but here's the thing. If and when that relationship changes, or hits hard times, or even ends- then what? What are you left with? I remember times in my life, not even knowing who I was because of that very thing. If he doesn't love me, do I even exist. What am I supposed to do if I'm not his caretaker? If he doesn't want me, then I may as well just die. If I'm not his wife, then who am I? </div>
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Don't get me wrong, I do not knock the idea behind the lyrics, because she means well. She is/was (that may be changing) a Christian artist so when she is talking about 'you' she is talking about God. Knowing THAT, I can listen to the song and understand and feel ok. I am shaky on my religious beliefs, but I can understand how this song, about God, can really get someone thru a tough time. However, it plays like a love song. Until I did my research, I thought it WAS a love song. I would bet that most people think it's a love song. And I'm imagining young girls listening to this song and dedicating it to their boyfriends. </div>
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And to that I say, stop. Don't follow that path towards giving away your self worth to someone else. It's too big a responsibility and people are flawed. I think even the most well intentioned person cannot reasonable take on the enormous task of holding someone else's entire self worth. It's a trap. It's a suckers bet. Imagine that you are this well intentioned keeper of my worth. I am fragile and rely on you to tell me if I'm a good person but I'm bound to make mistakes. If you get angry with me, it will crush me. So you are somewhat trapped. If you break me, you're the villain. I am pretty much free from all blame. I would be better, if you guided me better. The ability to blame YOU for all my shortcomings is right there. You don't want that. And ultimately, when you tire of the responsibility, you will hand it back to me- and I don't know what the hell to do with it- that's why I gave it to you in the first place. And yes, I've been right there. Not knowing what to do with myself because if the ONE person that gave me meaning no longer wants me- then I have nothing. </div>
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I have had nothing. More than once. </div>
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I won't ever let myself be in that place again. Not ever. I love The Man. More than anything, and sometimes I wear my self-reliance as a shield, and it's something that I constantly work on to find balance. What he thinks of me matters, the same with my parents, my friends, my kids etc. However, my self worth is not tied to those opinions. My self worth comes from who I know I am. What I know I am capable of. My beliefs, my loyalties, my sense of integrity.</div>
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I decide what I'm worth. </div>
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Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-66230393851976772402019-01-10T23:04:00.000-08:002019-01-10T23:04:26.749-08:00Working on that planI was hoping to have a plan written down for some work-life balance. A work-life balance PLAN. I don't have it yet. Hopefully in a month I will have more at home work to do and less time will be spend delivering food. It's hard to make a plan that I know is going to change.<br />
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Today I made a point to tell Bonehead- who is now 15, by the way, that I appreciate him helping out with the dogs while I'm working during the day. And making dinner either for himself, or for everyone. I know it's hard on him when I'm not home. I told him he was doing really well and was a great help to me and that I APPRECIATED him. He thanked my acknowledgement with a hug. He's become a moody teenager, but I know when things are bothering him. I see the look on his face when I tell him I'm heading off to work. He sometimes says, "are you ever just gonna work at home again?" It breaks my heart. I joke with him and say, "well, you want to eat don't you?" He doesn't know I'm not really joking. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5x2DEukU3rloP6Iy0v5y35dhese-uacqqz8Z-ImLbZ5kGzfWD9CYXIOd1V7bmjwbCOcyaS_oDVwJsTKHppNdEQbrz6i8XcoT5ZchXYcHjZWTs65qrMa_qMlfKsiGvk1gmgWIl5uLr87s/s1600/657458746055503831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5x2DEukU3rloP6Iy0v5y35dhese-uacqqz8Z-ImLbZ5kGzfWD9CYXIOd1V7bmjwbCOcyaS_oDVwJsTKHppNdEQbrz6i8XcoT5ZchXYcHjZWTs65qrMa_qMlfKsiGvk1gmgWIl5uLr87s/s1600/657458746055503831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1566" data-original-width="1600" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5x2DEukU3rloP6Iy0v5y35dhese-uacqqz8Z-ImLbZ5kGzfWD9CYXIOd1V7bmjwbCOcyaS_oDVwJsTKHppNdEQbrz6i8XcoT5ZchXYcHjZWTs65qrMa_qMlfKsiGvk1gmgWIl5uLr87s/s200/657458746055503831.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5x2DEukU3rloP6Iy0v5y35dhese-uacqqz8Z-ImLbZ5kGzfWD9CYXIOd1V7bmjwbCOcyaS_oDVwJsTKHppNdEQbrz6i8XcoT5ZchXYcHjZWTs65qrMa_qMlfKsiGvk1gmgWIl5uLr87s/s1600/657458746055503831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a><br />
I have started taking my crochet projects with me on my shifts, so if I happen to have some slow times, I can work in a row of stitches here and there. I finally finished a new scarf, and I'm pretty happy with it. It's an easy pattern that looks complicated. <br />
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Another thing I need to continue to focus on/ do better at is issues with my health. I have gotten much better at taking my medications for my blood pressure and my depression/anxiety. Of course, saying that I remember that I am OUT of both and I need to pick up my refills at the pharmacy. So I'm clearly not perfect at it. I was doing well though. I have no good reason for non-compliance with that. It is evident very quickly when I don't have them. I'd make a joke about just being lazy, but I know it's no joke. I have spent over a decade looking at medical records of people who have had a stroke, and most of them have hypertension. So I know it's not a joke. Apparently I'm just THAT stupid. <br />
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Ok, so tomorrow morning I will pick up my prescriptions. I'm sure the headache I will wake up with will be my reminder. Ugh. Dying from a stroke is not the ironic way I want to go out. I would much prefer to trip over my dog and get stabbed in the throat by the spoonful of peanut butter I was eating. My goal in death is for a few people to start giggling at my funeral because I went out in such a ridiculous way. That way, the flash mob won't seem so weird. <br />
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Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-46136172421463312722019-01-01T09:43:00.004-08:002019-01-01T09:44:05.498-08:00New Year, same me.I don't know if I ever did New Years Resolutions. I have set goals for myself in the past, but if I ever made any resolutions, I'm sure that I, like everyone else, ditched the idea when it got hard.<br />
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It's 2019 and while 2018 started out pretty good for me personally, the last half was a struggle financially. I've been working at home since I got laid off almost 2 years ago and doing well for myself, all things considered, but the second half of the year I worked some side gigs. Delivering for Amazon Flex and Doordash.<br />
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Both are decent side gigs, but Flex didn't offer me quite as much flexibility as I wanted. I'm not going to get into it but lets just say that it wasn't something I LOVED to do. Doordash I very much enjoy. It's low stress and as long as you are willing to put in the time, you can do well with it. I couldn't do that as my only job, because I'm an adult with adult sized expenses, but it is enough to make up for what was lacking. <br />
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I hate going into the new year focusing on money, but my financial health is the biggest issue in my life right now. Hopefully soon I will be back to just working at home, and setting the side gigs aside or at least just to a few days a week to pay off some credit card debt. Being out of the house is hard on the family who have come to love and rely on me being available all the time. I am not sure how I feel about that, but it is what it is. <br />
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So going into this new year, my focus is on finding a work life balance. I understand that without the work, I won't be able to afford to do balance anything, so I know that one feeds the other. I want to get back to spending time with my dog and my family. Likely in THAT order, but Bella just wants so little from me in comparison and is almost always a joy- where the kids are at that age where most of the time when they approach me it's because they want something- usually food. <br />
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I'd like to be able to meet with my friends for lunch again. I'd like to be able to take Bella back to the dog park and give her time to play with other dogs. I'd like to go back to relaxing at night, after making a meal I had the time to make. <br />
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I'm going to work on a plan to capture this balance. Which will include one day off every week, likely a Thursday. I need to plan my days so that I have some time for household chores as well as maybe some time for me to unwind and engage in my hobbies. I have picked my crochet hooks up again and I'd like to make time for that, even if it's just a little time each day, or every other day. I also need to learn to maximize my work time. Working early in the morning or later at night provides more uninterrupted time in which I can get the most done. <br />
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Hopefully in a few days I will have something written down so I can use it as a guide. I have worked almost non stop for the past 5 months, and while I don't regret doing what I had to do, I realize it's no way to live my life long-term. Even if the amount of time I can carve out for social activities and hobbies is small, I think it will do me more good than harm. Perhaps it will change my mood, and all that "sending positive stuff in the universe" is supposed to be good for me. We'll see.<br />
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Happy New Year! Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-26960598704625194482018-04-07T10:02:00.001-07:002018-04-07T10:02:17.742-07:00My loves and don't loves about working from homeI've been working from home for over a year now. Like I said, due to a layoff I was let go from a job I had for 11 years. No hard feelings, not even when it happened. I think I was ready to move on. What I found out quickly is that without a nursing degree, I'm not "qualified" to do the job I've been doing for over a decade. Ridiculous, I know. I have been doing THIS particular job for a LONG time. However, the powers that be feel that I should have an education in physically caring for patients, who, by the way, is something I won't be doing in the course of this job. <br />
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Luckily, back in 2011 I started working for a 3rd party data abstraction company. That's a pretty vague description but I don't want to get too deep into that. It's brought in a nice stream of second income, sometimes more than the first job did. It's kept my family afloat, even if I'm not always available to enjoy the ride. When I lost my main job, I still had this one. Luckily shortly before the layoff I picked up a huge account that was going to be enough to make up for a little more than half of my hospital salary. <br />
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Since then I've been lucky to keep that income coming, but contract work can be unsteady so I'm always a little worried that my clients are gonna decide to start doing the work in house, and I'm out of a contract. I have some money in savings to get us through an extra month, and I know I CAN get a job. I have a good education. I also simply try to do my best work, keep a good outlook on life, and simply keep hope.<br />
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So since it's been a year, I think I can safely make a good assessment of what I love and don't love about it. <br />
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<ul>
<li>Flexible hours. This is a nice feature but one I can't take advantage of. I currently have two clients. I know approximately how large the work load is as well as how fast they need it done. So while I may be able to take a random day off, by plan or by circumstance; I also know that if I slack off too long, I will run out of time end up working all day and night to catch up. </li>
<li>More time with my family. The exact reason I don't want to be working all day and night. I enjoy not having to rush thru making dinner. I have time to help the kids with their homework and listen to stories about whatever they want to talk about. I can sit outside with the man while he works on the car, although that leads to me helping him somehow, which I hate doing. I enjoy having time for the family if they need me.</li>
<li>Time to run errands. Its nice to have time to get things done. If I have a doctors appointment, I can make it almost any time of the day. Minus drop off and pick up times for the kids, I have the whole day. I can run errands thru the day and work in the evening if I need to. I can go grocery shopping without watching the clock. However, I have been using Instacart to do my grocery shopping. I love that app.</li>
<li>Television. I love being about to watch TV while I work. Enough said.</li>
<li>No traffic. This is a huge selling point. My commute was 55 miles each way, 5 days a week. The drive took anywhere from 45 minutes to work (if I left before 5AM) to 3 hours home (if I left after 3:30 PM). This also meant a lot of money spent on gas. I used to fill my gas tank every 3rd day. 10-12 times a month. Now I only fill my tank every 9 or 10 days. That is a lot of money to save.</li>
<li>Working alone. This is a nice thing. There's no workplace drama. There's no interruptions or people looking over my shoulder on a daily basis. I do have oversight and people who check my work, be it a colleague or the client, however it's not every day or every few hours. No workplace drama (although I admit I do kinda miss the gossip).</li>
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These are all great things. I love working from home. I work a lot, and often. I am making enough to support my family and be home with them. <br />
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Now there are things I don't love about working from home. I don't hate them. I don't hate anything about this job, but there are some downsides.<br />
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<li>It's hard to stay disciplined. It is really important to stay disciplined and stay on the schedule I give myself. Without that, its easy to get too far behind. Each chart I work on, takes 20 minutes to an hour. I never know how long it's going to take until I open the chart and get in there so if I run behind, push some work to the next day and then get 3-4 bad charts, that can take up a lot of time that I would be doing other things. It's easy to get distracted, with the kids, the animals, housework etc. I try to focus 1-2 hours at a time, and then take short breaks. I try to only work about 5 hours a day every day. If I stay focused, I can be done working by 1PM every day. If I get distracted, I can end up working until 7PM! Its easy to think I have all the time in the world, but really- I don't.</li>
<li>Becoming a hermit. I admit, lately I don't really want to leave the house. I like being home in my house with my family and my dogs. I also enjoy my time alone. I may like it a little too much, to be honest. I am doing my best to meet up with friends when I can, and not give in to the desire to stay in all the time.</li>
<li>Eating. It's easy to eat all day long. This hasn't been great on my ass. I don't move around enough. I've put on some weight. Lately I've been putting better food options in the house. </li>
<li>Lots of interruptions. The thing about being at home, is that I'm at home. My house can be a pretty busy place sometimes. There is the man, three kids, two dogs, two cats and a turtle. Most of the chores are done by me. Not all of them, but the ones I don't do, I have to remind, coordinate and check on (otherwise they don't get done). It's easy to get interrupted, and side tracked. </li>
<li>Losing track of time. I keep a calendar, but it's easy to lose track of what day it is. I know that on Wednesday the kids have an alternative school schedule. Of course they are off on the weekends. Summer is gonna be a blur. </li>
<li>Because I can work any time, it's easy to work ALL the time. I enjoy my work. I really do. It's important work that changes the way patients are cared for. That means something to me. Also, the money is good, so I am always open to take on new clients when given the chance. I need to make sure I manage my time correctly otherwise all I do is work and I have no time to relax. I have to remember to give myself time to relax. </li>
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Overall, its a great gig if you can get it. I can work in my pajamas. I don't have to wear a bra. I can vape and chat with friends during the day. But it's not always easy. I do feel lucky to have this opportunity and while I may not be able to do it forever, I'm definitely hoping to continue to do it as long as I can.<br />
Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-28700885029190671732018-02-26T17:37:00.001-08:002018-02-26T17:39:28.672-08:00Dog trainer/ crazy dog mom. You decide.Tricks my puppy, Bella, can do.<br />
Sit.<br />
Down.<br />
Roll over.<br />
Paw.<br />
High Five.<br />
Up. (both paws on my forearm)<br />
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Working on:<br />
Leave it.<br />
Let go.<br />
Spin in a circle.<br />
Pray.<br />
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I've had her for almost three weeks, and like most relationships-I fell in love hard and fast. She's 16 weeks old, and she has completely changed the whole atmosphere in the house. Kids complaining, that's ok, Bella will sit on my lap an cuddle. The Man is being grumpy, no worries, Bella is always there to give puppy kisses. I'm exhausted, she's a great nap buddy. I have errands to run, no sweat, Bella is great in the car AND in her little carrier bag. Jerkface is paying too much attention to his video games, and not her- she pooped on his bed. She makes me just STOOPID happy. <br />
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So I have to talk about how I've learned how to train this angel. Zak George. He's on You Tube and there is a world of wisdom in these lessons. His videos are short and easy to understand. He does do a lot of advertising, but you know, the guy has to make a living, so I get it and I'm not bothered by that. As someone who has blogged for years, I understand affiliate dollars. Anyway, these videos have taught me a LOT about how to communicate with both my dogs. I have mixed in what I've learned there, and the private lessons Max and I have had to come up with training that works for me, and hopefully my dogs. Bella is easier because she is brand new. Max has a lot of bad habits that I have to smooth out. <br />
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The biggest problem I have with Max is communication. It's hard to physically get down to his level, because he is so hyper and he jumps on me. Often knocking me down. So we are working on that. Getting him to NOT jump while I go into a kneeling or squatting position. Talk about your "leg days." I think I will be able to get his attention better by closing distance between us so I can be more proactive, but also not get a concussion in the process. I'm determined though. He's not a bad dog, he's just an untrained dog. So that's what I'm working on. Before I can teach him anything new, I need to teach him how to be a little gentler with me. Not so aggressive in his playing. We can't play tug anymore, because he doesn't go for the toy, he goes for the hand that is holding the toy. Raising it in the air is no help either, as he can jump higher than I can raise my arm. So no jumping is priority #1, unless I want to end up with nubs for fingers.<br />
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Now I know you are wondering how in the world I'm teaching Bella to pray. Well, it's the cutest trick I saw where the dog puts their paws on something (starting with my forearm) and then goes for a treat that is below and between her legs so she is basically putting her head down. It's fucking adorable. Starts on the arm, and will move to maybe the chair arm or something, but right now, its just the forearm and she's picking up fast what I'm asking her to do. <br />
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There is something really cool about using tools and watching them work. It's amazing for me to see the twitchy restraint and how she thinks it thru before her next move. I want to teach her all of the things. Jumping thru hoops and over stuff. She's the only little one in the house who seems to benefit from my advice these days, so it's good for the both of us. <br />
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And while Jerkface does take an active roll in her care, it's more about the cuddling and play time for him. He is also helping me teach her tricks and we are both going to puppy kindergarten with her next month. As his ESA, as long as she is there for him when he needs her and he utilizes her in that capacity, then she's fulfilling her job. Otherwise, I am completely ok being with her all the time. I mean, I wanted a little dog too.<br />
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I will try to get some of her tricks on video so I can share them- cause who doesn't want to see THAT????<br />
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Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-4456267695278428922018-02-24T07:52:00.001-08:002018-02-24T07:52:27.934-08:00The mom show.Nobody REALLY cares that much when mom is not feeling good. If I'm REALLY sick, then yes. But if I am just feeling slightly under the weather, bad headache, cramps, or a common cold, nope. Doesn't really matter.<br />
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This is the TRUE test of motherhood really. How to adapt when you are #1 in responsibilities, but number #10 in getting any sympathy/ I have to visible show signs of illness. The squinty puffy eyes, the weak and nasally voice, the fever, the vomiting, dizziness. All of it. I basically have to come down with SARS before anyone thinks, oh hey, mom needs to sleep, perhaps I should do something for myself around here.<br />
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Don't get me wrong, if I'm feeling under the weather, I WILL just lay down and tell the boys to make leftovers or something frozen for dinner. I will put off housework for the duration. I HAVE to self care because if I don't- who will?? But what I get is "attitude." The sighs, the groans. Confirmation that I am making life "inconvenient." It frustrates me, and makes me slightly resentful, but I get over it.<br />
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Everyone knows this too. I get over things, dangerously fast. There is no point in staying angry. To me, this is a blessing and a curse. I'm the mom, and moms being over worked and underappreciated is really not unique. Also, I don't think that my family doesn't APPRECIATE me- because I know they do. I just think they are sometimes selfish and thoughtless. I'm sure I was the same, and when I got older, I was more appreciative. I know my audience.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-88624791872244163092018-02-13T11:17:00.001-08:002018-02-13T11:19:32.982-08:00all things dogsSo as I mentioned in my last post, I started training with Max, AND we got a puppy. <br />
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Training with Max has been fun and challenging. Its clear that he can do it, but he's stubborn and he has a lot of bad habits. I find that its more about training ME, and how to handle him. How to let him know that I am in charge. I am taking private lessons and I feel I am benefiting from it- as well as Max benefitting from me knowing how to communicate with him. <br />
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I cried for half of the first lesson. I really have a lot of feelings about him. Frustration, embarrassment and some resentment. Like I have said, he isn't the dog I wanted, but the man wanted him. He didn't get trained, life got busy and I am the one who takes care of him. So now, 5 years later, I am trying to undo the results of what I didn't do to begin with. Luckily, he does know some basics and that is helping. <br />
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It is nice to see that there will come a day that I can take a nice walk with my dog and I won't end up hurting my shoulder, or having a sore arm. Or like last week when I was trying to get his harness on him, he jumped on me, sending me falling back to hit my head on a propane tank. Hard. <br />
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I need to build my own confidence with Max. He's a big strong stubborn dog and I admit I feel foolish half of the time in class. However, there are those moments when he heels, and stays with me, and sits when we stop. It's a good feeling, and I was glad when the trainer said that it showed that I have been working with him. I have to also build up every bit of patience that I have. With Max, and with myself. This isn't comfortable for me. It's not natural. Its quite the opposite really. However, a trained dog is something I want, and I know that if I want something, I have to work for it myself. <br />
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We also got a new puppy. She is a Maltese Mix and a very sweet little girl. I was lucky to find her photo online at the shelter one evening and the next morning I was the first one there to visit and snatch her up. She is fun loving and sweet. She also likes to play and chew so I'm working with her to keep her distracted and chewing on the things shes allowed to chew on. Not the puppy pads, or her water bowl which she loves to move around, spilling water everywhere.<br />
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Bella is the cutest damn thing ever, and I adore her- but we will start training with her very soon as I am not about to have two wild dogs in my house. She's just 14 weeks, and I'm going to put her and Jerkface in a puppy training class together. He adores her and so far it is helping him feel less lonely. <br />
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We did introduce the two dogs. Max was very excited and it scared her. So when SHE gets her confidence up a little, we will try again. I know if she had barked at him, he would have backed down. He's a big scaredy cat. <br />
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The cats are curious about Bella. Penny comes around and sits close to her ex-pen, and Bella wants to play. She play bows and wags her tail, but Penny just hissed her back. Right now Bella is still in confinement, but soon I will give her access to the office when I won't have my back turned. Puppy steps. <br />
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Adorable. I am so in love.<br />
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Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-28821102078529937982018-02-03T09:04:00.000-08:002018-02-03T09:09:53.193-08:00About a dogEarlier this week, the man called me from work to tell me that he had found a lost dog. He wasn't sure what to do with it, but he didn't want to take it to the shelter. <br />
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What I didn't know at the time, but I do know now, is that when you take a found dog to the shelter, the owner has anywhere between 2-7 days to recover their dog from the shelter before they put it up for adoption. The time depends on the shelter. ALSO, they will have to pay to get the dog out. They don't just give it to the owner. They will have to pay for boarding fees, per day, any shots they give them (rabies). They might microchip the dog if it isn't chipped, and in some places they will not allow the owner to take the pet before they spay or neuter it. Daily impound fees are also 2-3x higher if the animal isn't spayed or neutered. So reclaiming your own pet can cost hundreds of dollars. Not everyone has a few hundred dollars to drop on this.<br />
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We held on to this little pup for about 24 and ultimately found his owner. It was a sweet reunion and worth it for the internet scouring I did to find him. I admit that I was sad to let this little guy go. He was so sweet and well behaved. I committed that we would do all we could to find this guys owner, but I was also committed to keeping him if we couldn't find the owner. I was a little sad when we found him. <br />
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Now I have been talking to the man about getting a small dog for a few months now. I love my Max, but he is so hyper and the boys are afraid of him. (its a long story but lets just say they have no good reason for it) However, Jerkface (15 y/o) absolutely fell in love with this little pup. He sat with him, cuddled him, played with him, took him outside. And overall was just comforted by his presence. <br />
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Jerkface struggles from depression and anxiety (a story for another day), and it occurred to me that it would be a good thing for him to have an emotional support dog. Someone who can be his buddy, cheer him up and really just get him out of his own head to care for something else. This would also not be too bad for me either. I admit it was nice just having someone cuddle up with me that I wasn't worried was going to turn on me and scratch my face off. (another story for another time)(OMG I have so much to tell you all). <br />
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So since this little guy has left, the Man has admitted that it would be nice to get another dog. Something smaller and easy going. Especially for Jerkface. Also Bonehead, who is 14 is afraid of all dogs. He was also afraid of the cats when we got them, however due to their size, and after some time passed, he got used to them. He doesn't engage with them, but he has learned to co-exist. That's all I want; for him to be able to be around a dog without freaking out. I believe that in time, this will happen, the way it has with the cats.<br />
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First things first, though. I have decided to enroll Max and I in some one on one obedience classes. I want to feel confident that I can control him. He is about 60/40 in training. He needs some impulse control, and some focused work on basic commands. I work with him daily, but I am not as confident as I feel I should be. So this week is our first class. I figure I'll do a few of these one on one classes and then enroll him in a group obedience class. Once I feel confident, then we will really start looking for another dog. Since I am home during the day, I am the one who is going to be caring for them the most. So I'd like to feel confident that I can handle it. <br />
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I'm a researcher. So that's what I have been doing. Researching breeds, how to introduce a new dog, which dogs are best for emotional support, which small breeds get along best with large breeds, etc. I'm not going to be one of those pet owners who brings in someone new without considering how it will effect the pets who are already there. <br />
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If I'm gonna do something, I want to do it right, or as right as I CAN.<br />
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<br />Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-35216845085978495412018-01-28T06:00:00.000-08:002018-01-28T06:29:02.267-08:00Being older sucksIt really does. <br />
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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.<br />
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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!<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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? <br />
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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. <br />
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Nobody 'woke up like this'.<br />
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<br />Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-70741140485697910102018-01-27T06:00:00.000-08:002018-01-27T08:17:50.176-08:00The prowler that wasn'tSo 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.<br />
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Shit. Shit. <em>SHIT</em><br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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So the gun, at this moment, is a scare tactic.<br />
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I come around the corner, facing the patio door. I have a stance. Legs shoulder width apart. Knees slightly bent. Gun forward. <br />
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And there he was.<br />
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My dog.<br />
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Fucking MAX! <br />
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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." <br />
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This is the shit that happens to me! I continually tell the Man that he has hooked up with Lucy Ricardo.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-60302138546027720402018-01-22T18:26:00.001-08:002018-01-22T18:26:15.915-08:00Adventures in eyelashesIf 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? <br />
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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. <br />
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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!<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCZQ0XPE7wxMafUf8dIHOxgQ" target="_blank">Stephanie Lange</a>. She'll tell you all about it. Also, I love listening to her Aussie voice. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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And I have so many new brushes, each are used for something different. I am going to need to label them. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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More research. <br />
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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 <a href="https://www.instagram.com/fearless_crochet/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> and look and feel less ridiculous.<br />
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Also I can put pictures here, cause it's my blog after all.<br />
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Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-22817583174404857662018-01-18T06:33:00.000-08:002018-01-18T06:33:01.628-08:00The 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. <br />
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IT IS.<br />
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OMG, it's true. Todays youth is so stupid that they are eating laundry detergent, for an internet joke?<br />
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I really think this is the answer. </div>
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This has been a <a href="http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/eating-tide-pods" target="_blank">running joke since 2013</a>. 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!</div>
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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.</div>
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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. </div>
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I have read a lot of stupid things on the internet, but this has to be in the top 10. </div>
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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?" </div>
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It's nice to have the occasional reminder that I didn't raise an idiot. </div>
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Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-61108864724473890772018-01-17T10:40:00.000-08:002018-01-17T10:40:19.172-08:002018Fuck. Why am I here again? <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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I'm hoping 2018 will be more of the same. Happy New Year.<br />
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Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-71799444380785527502018-01-17T08:07:00.000-08:002018-01-17T08:07:07.200-08:00Do I believe in God?It's weird how so many of my "deep thoughts" come from things I see on the internet.<br />
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I'm not religious. I'm not an atheist. I'm not agnostic. <br />
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I'm different.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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." <br />
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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." <br />
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It's confusing and frustrating and sometimes frightening. <br />
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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. <br />
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<br />Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-66600744582172022982014-10-10T22:09:00.002-07:002014-10-10T22:13:11.972-07:00"A great mom"I read this article today written by someone I admire and respect (and have been lucky enough to meet.) This article talks about her fear of becoming a mother. She worries that if and when her dream of having kids will come true, she won't be good enough. <a href="http://www.sheknows.com/parenting/articles/1051083/why-hearing-youll-be-a-great-mom-scares-me" target="_blank">Give it a read.</a> <br />
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Dear Friend,<br />
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While I understand your feelings. I would like to share with you some knowledge that I've learned as a mom for 19 years. I have 3 natural kids, 1 stepdaughter and 1 that will be my stepson someday. I can tell you with all honesty, that after all these years, I still worry about being a good mom.<br />
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The fact that you have waited, and are contemplating if you will or won't be a good mom, that the thought of having children makes you take pause and wonder if you will be good at it- is enough to know that you are at least aware of the mom you might WANT to be.<br />
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I got pregnant at 22. I was in a new and exciting relationship and destined to be in love forever, the way we are at 22. I did not think about why I wanted kid. I felt it was just something I wanted, so I did it. I didn't put a lot of thought into it- and I struggled for many years.<br />
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Many of us go in with ideas of natural childbirth, breastfeed only, cloth diapers, homemade baby food, we will sterilize EVERYTHING, never microwave a bottle to heat it up, let them cry it out, never use a pacifier, vacuum when they are sleeping so they get used to noise, and we will read to our child every. single. day. We will keep the baby book current until they are five. We will never use TV to distract the baby. We will never put cows milk in a bottle, and only give our kids fruit as snacks. We will ever raise our voices. Never argue with our partner in front of the children. We won't ever say "because I said so." We go in with at least some of these good intentions. We will be "a good mom."<br />
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Then we have a child.<br />
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Quickly we realize that sometimes you have to give a bottle. That there isn't enough hours in the day to MAKE baby food. If you shake the microwaved bottle, it will dissipate the "hot spots." We realize that a pacifier both soothes the child, and also allows you to have a conversation with someone. A little TV doesn't hurt, and you have to sweep the floor <em>sometime</em>. It is impossible to not raise your voice when your child is about to put something questionable in his/her mouth. You also learn that there is very little in a parents' vocabulary that feels quite as satisfying as "because I said so!" <br />
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That's all ok. You will become the mom your child needs because you are not a selfish person. You actually put thought into this. Perhaps the maternal instinct will kick in, and it becomes as natural to you as a baby fish in the ocean. When that happens, it's like magic. It didn't for me.I still make daily mistakes. I curse around my kids. Some days they are the last to get picked up from school. I recently forgot to actually MAKE the sandwich for my sons lunch and sent him to school with only two pieces of bread in the plastic bag. My "Mom of the Year" speech got tucked away a long time ago- and I think the paper is wrinkled and the ink is faded. Most days I am glad that "nobody bled today."<br />
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When my oldest son turned 16, I finally started making enough money to support him and his brothers. I finally live in a nice house with a stocked fridge. My son, now 19 and moved out, who didn't get as much of the 'good stuff' as my younger ones are enjoying, doesn't hold it against me. He knows I did the best I knew how and that I love him. They never REALLY appreciate you until they are older anyway. That's important to remember.<br />
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Parenting is hard, and even the ones who DO all the "Good Mom" things, make mistakes. While I can't stand her, Dr. Laura talks about being a "good enough" mom. It means we do our best, we realize we are not perfect, and if we have a bad day, we let it go and try to make tomorrow a little better. Judgment errors will be made. Bad decisions will probably happen. Kids are resilient and forgiving. They love you even when you leave them in the diaper too long or when you sing off key. For most, the only real currency needed is love- and that is given in the form of doing your best, giving them your time, hugging them a lot and teaching them the things they will need to know when they stop being children.<br />
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It's good to have that fear. It means you are aware of what's ahead. You are looking around, scanning the scenery, watching for sharp corners and things that make you itchy. You are already looking out for the child you will have someday. It's a good place to start. It's where a lot of us DIDN'T start. <br />
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You might even be a little bit ahead of the game. Best of luck to you. <br />
May you be good enough.<br />
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love,<br />
Julie<br />
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<br />Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-50525309208765772642014-10-04T13:02:00.003-07:002014-10-04T13:02:45.496-07:00Addiction rantAddiction. Ugh. I hate this topic, and yet it's something that I am passionate to talk about. Have I ever been addicted to something in a life threatening way? Maybe. My addiction to my alcoholic husband may not have ended my life, but it definitely dashed my hopes, destroyed my dreams, and changed me in ways that I can never get back. <br />
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I still, look at the bottles of alcohol in the fridge and take a mental note of how much in there. Want proof? About 6 months ago, I went into the garage fridge to get a soda. I do this, about 5-10 times of day, depending on the day. We keep the soda and the alcohol in the garage. I went in there, and not even realizing that I was looking, the Captain Morgan bottle looked lower. I could not remember having looked at it when I was in there two hours earlier, but I knew it was lower. Panic spread over me. That sinking feeling in my chest- the cold in my upper arms- the tightening of my throat. I started at it for a few minutes, and then I closed the fridge.<br />
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I went to the office and asked SR. Did you have a drink today? He pointed at his glass. Right in front of him. <br />
"Yes I poured this an hour ago."<br />
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So even now, it effects me. It is still in my nature to pick up a glass and smell or taste it. This is one of the reasons I am actually GLAD that SR drinks from the can because random glasses laying around will cause me panic. An empty glass where there should not be one? Like the bathroom- can stop me cold. <br />
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I bring this up because I saw a video this morning that I've seen before. Actor Matthew Perry suffered from the same thing my late husband did. Alcoholism that turned to pancreatitis that turned to addiction to pain pills. At the end of season 5, Chandler is heavier than he was at the beginning of season 6. In season 6 he is very thin, and you can almost hear it in his voice- that narcotic slur. It's slight, but I recognized it immediately. In this video, he is talking to someone who is basically saying that addiction is a choice. That the "supposedly addicted person" could have decided to not drink again. Just made that choice. <br />
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I know that some people can. Some people can see that there is a problem in their behavior and just stop. It happens. For the millions of people it doesn't happen for, I don't believe they can just decide and stop.<br />
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I believe that addiction is a disease. It's an insanity. How do I know? Because I lived it. I watched it. I buried it.<br />
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There were many things I didn't know about my husband. Many secrets, many things I choose not to see. I admit that I was not always helpful. I was enabling, I was manipulative, I was mean. I admit that. However, I KNEW my husband. I knew that he loved me, and he loved our children. I also eventually knew that love wasn't enough and I had to chose me and the children over him. I may never EVER get over the fact that I could not love him enough to make him better, to make him "decide" to stop. It's so much easier to blame myself- I still do it often.<br />
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Did he choose to be an addict? No. He chose to take the first drink. The first pill. The first, whatever. He chose that. He chose to not seek the help that was offered to him again and again. He didn't choose to be addicted. He didn't choose to be broken. Sure, the argument can, and has and will continue to be made that his choice not to take help WAS his choice to continue his behavior. The argument can be made that each time he got "clean," he choose to drink or drug again. <br />
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This is where, for me, I do and <u>have to</u> believe in the insanity of addiction. True to life insanity. If I believe he loved me, which I do- and if I believe he loved our kids, which I do- then I have to believe that NO SANE PERSON would choose to put our family through what we went through. He wasn't a sociopath. He wasn't cold, or apathetic. He was one of the most empathetic loving people I have ever known. He was the guy who gave strangers rides on hot days. He was the guy who sat with a dog who had been hit by a car and talked to it while it died. He was the guy who, when we were still living together and the guy I had been seeing (yes he knew about it) broke up with me, came into the bathroom, saw me lying on the floor crying, came in, picked me up and carried me to bed- even though it broke his heart to do so. <br />
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He didn't choose to have a disease that tore his family apart. He didn't choose to behave in the activity that would leave his kids without a father. I will never believe that. I can't. I support those who struggle with this disease. I applaud the efforts and the work they do to help themselves and others. I am always encouraged when I see people post about how many days, months or years they have been sober. My heart breaks for those who fall off the wagon. My heart aches, a deep hard, crushing ache, for those loved ones who can do nothing but worry, and cry, and sometimes leave. I empathize with those who scream, bully and manipulate their addict in an attempt to sober them up. <br />
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I really do. I believe that addiction is NOT a choice. I believe that no sane person would put their family through hell. I believe that he could have been saved, but he was too far gone. There was too much against him mentally and physically. I believe that his passing, while tragic, was a bittersweet blessing. <br />
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Some days I am still angry at him, but I will never believe that he chose to be an addict. <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/CDtIZZiySgA" width="560"></iframe><br />Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-82091213278131211312014-10-02T21:55:00.001-07:002014-10-03T16:52:51.981-07:00Shiny happy musicHaving worked in music store for most of my twenties, I understand how music effects people. I remember when Swing the Mood by Jive bunny came out. We listened to it constantly in the store, because it sold like crazy. It also made people dance. It made people WANT to be there and shop. It actually put people in a good mood. Go ahead and listen while you read this. If you don't have to hear it all the time, it's not bad to listen to. <br />
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Elevator music is relaxing, because who wants to hear something loud and panic stricken when they are in an elevator?? <br />
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Grocery stores seem to have picked up playing adult contemporary music, sometimes even radio stations, which is good- usually. Occasionally a song will come on with a frantic beat and it makes you move faster. You feel in a hurry, like, oh my god I need to hurry, shop faster, get the hell out of here. This is bad for most stores. <br />
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At the music store I worked at, usually the person working at the front, or the manager would have control over what would play in the store. I tried to find a decent mix of what the employees could stand, what they liked, and what would sell. During the holidays it was all holiday music, all the time. At the time it was awful because 8-10 straight hours of Christmas songs is obnoxious. <br />
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This morning in the car I listened to these songs, in this order:<br />
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Shake it Off- Taylor Swift<br />
All about that Bass- Meghan Trainor<br />
Roar- Katy Perry<br />
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I was flipping channels and I felt like I got pretty lucky because these are all great happy songs that are good for driving. It made me wonder, however, why I love happy music. In general, I listen to pop music although I love country, and rock, and classic rock and hip hop and a pretty decent range of music. However, I really like happy music. Upbeat. I think I'm a pretty upbeat person, at least I try to be. I try to positive and cheerful and I think the music I listen to reflects that. I know when I was a teenager, I was into the less cheerful stuff. Not necessarily the lyrics, but the music itself was less cheerful. I'd never accuse the Cure of being upbeat, or Depeche Mode- although there may have been some. I was depressed a lot then.<br />
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In the 90's, I listened to a lot of country music. Songs about dancing and drinking and being in love. I did a lot of that in the 90's. I did listen to some grunge. The first grunge song I heard was Man in the Box from Alice in Chains. The guy I was dating was absolutely enthralled with it, and while I admitted that I really liked the groove to it, grunge never really reached me the same way. I could and still do very much appreciate what is and isn't "good music" for whatever reason I think it's good. My late husband loved Pearl Jam and Soundgarden, we even played Chris Cornell's version of Ave Maria at his service. It's both ominous and beautiful.<br />
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Which brings me to something else. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLC079F053CA7B4AA1" target="_blank"> I put together a bunch of my late husbands favorite songs</a> (or versions of them) for his memorial service. Towards the end, my sister asked me why I picked all these songs, I said they were his favorites. She said, "Really? They are all REALLY sad." <br />
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I hadn't really thought of that before.<br />
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So I wonder, what do my favorite songs say about me? Does the music I surround myself with influence my life, or does my life influence the music I listen to?<br />
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Well, I hope this last song at least puts you in a good mood. How can it not??<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/3JcmQONgXJM" width="420"></iframe><br />Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-127971507902645882014-09-24T17:17:00.000-07:002014-09-24T17:20:05.028-07:00My social media is divided by opinions on my sex lifeI have too many social media accounts. I have too many because I have at least TWO of everything. There are two sides to me. And while I don't live two lives, there's the side I let my some people see and a side I let the worlds see. Oddly enough, the WORLD side sees more of me than the some people side. <br />
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I have a facebook account for my family and co-workers. The ones who care about my kids and what I cook and the tame, vanilla side of my life. The ones who I would rather not know about the dynamics in my relationship. Then there's my ACTUAL facebook account, which is where my friends, my partners, old boyfriends etc reside. <br />
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But there's a lot of crossover. My BOSS for instance, is friends with me on my vanilla facebook account, except, she knows everything about me. And I mean, EVERYTHING. My old co-workers at my old job (10 years ago) and people I knew from my past professional life are on my regular facebook account, pretty much ensuring I will never work for them again. Hmmmm- that was probably a bad call.<br />
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Many, but not all, of my family knows about my less traditional lifestyle. However I keep it from them because honestly I think they just don't care to know or hear about it. I generally stay mostly tame on FB and I do have different groups for my kinkier friends so as not to offend anyone who's kid might peruse their facebook feed. But it's exhausting<br />
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Twitter is something different though. <br />
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I have different twitter accounts for different things. One for me that is pretty NSFW, one for the vanilla me (mostly unused), one for an event I host, and one for the podcast I host. <br />
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I have an instagram account but I keep it pretty tame because my kid follows me.<br />
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I have an "about me" account that I don't use.<br />
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I don't have a tumblr. At least not anymore.<br />
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Today I got an account with ello. It seems nice, clean, no ads. Nice manifesto. Currently no worries that what I say or see will be used against me for marketing campaigns. However when I was setting it up, I thought- what will I use this for. Who will I be here? <br />
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For a while I had an account on Subjot (which I think is no longer out there). Or something. Anyway, nobody knew me there. I don't think I even told many friends I was on it. It was kind of freeing. Talking out into the void and not really caring who talked back.<br />
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Social media is practically my social LIFE most days. Some days I will be in the mood to engage with family and other days it's all about my close friends and kinksters. There are days though, that I wish that I just had one side of me- the real side and the only side. The problem with social media is that I'm not always the same kind of social with everyone. I envy those who can just be who they are online, although I think most of us somewhat filter ourselves when our parents are watching. The day my mom joined facebook was probably where things went awry for me. The internet was a pretty safe place for me to be who I am. Now I worry that my mother is just 6 degrees of separation away from seeing me half naked with sharp things poking into my skin. I don't think she even knows about THIS blog, which is still a few breaths closer than I would like her to know about me. I enjoy my relationship with my family, but because they have a tendency to be somewhat uptight and judgy, it must be done from a distance. It sucks. I would like to think that they would like me anyway, but chances are I would just become even more of a black sheep. I did marry and bury the drug addict and all. There's always one in every family. I guess I drew the short straw along with the actually "short" card.<br />
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I'm gong to be 43 years old and I am still hiding from my family. I think I do it more for them than I do for me. There's a blanket rule not to scare the vanilla people. I told one of my brothers about being poly. He seemed unphased. My siblings have met past partners, but didn't realize just who they were. My mom has asked, "if that your girlfriend or something?" but her mere tone told me that even if she had been, I should just say no. I don't want to have that conversation any more than she does.<br />
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I'd like to think that who I REALLY am is not so bad or offensive. However I know that if members of my family were "describing" me to someone else, it would go something like this.<br />
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"Oh Julie? She's great. She's got 3 kids, well actually 4 if you could her late husbands daughter. and 5 if you could her new boyfriends son. Her and her boyfriend have been together about 3 years now. He's 12 years younger than her- so you know. And they are into that BDSM spanking thing... so there's THAT." <br />
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And while all of those things are true- they tell you NOTHING about me. NOTHING. I'm a good person. I think I'm kind and thoughtful. I have made a lot of sacrifices for the people I love. I have a good education. I have a good job that most days I really love because it makes a difference for peoples lives. I educate people on BDSM and safe healthy relationships. And even THAT tells you very little about me. <br />
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However I know that I will be reduced to how I have sex and who I have sex with. And to be honest, I have sex the same way everyone else does. And 95% of the time I only have sex with SR. It's not THAT big of a deal. I think there are more interesting things about me. <br />
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However, it is what it is. It's a bit frustrating though, that the ones who are supposed to love me conditionally, my family, are the ones who probably only continue to love me because there's a lot that they don't want to know. <br />
<br />Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-91946959816973896582014-09-21T09:55:00.002-07:002014-09-21T09:57:49.628-07:00OMG this dogSo the past month has been "Operation Max." After the tick infestation earlier this year I've been mildly obsessed with caring for this dog. It isn't that we weren't caring for him before, but I was never really all that interested. Like I said before, Max wasn't the dog that I wanted- but he's who is here- and he's a good boy. He deserves my love and attention because while he is overly hyper and a total whiner, I think he loves me back. <br />
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I've been walking him every night for the past month. I wasn't walking him often before because he is a puller. Even with the prong collar he would pull and I was too afraid he was too stupid not to impale himself. However, now he seems to be receptive to the prong collar and while he still pulls- it's much less and once we get going, he settles down.<br />
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Usually at the start of the walk he's so excited that he jumps and traipses around like a 4 year old girl with a new tutu and tiara, but then once we around the first corner he starts to calm down and stops to pee on just about every bush he can lift a leg at. Once he lifted his leg 20 times on one block. <br />
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On the weekends he usually, but not always, gets 2 walks. In the morning and then again at night. The night walks used to happen at 9:30- it was the last thing I did before getting ready for bed. However, now that he knows he will get a walk at night- as soon as it starts getting dark he starts the whining and the howling. Now on the weekends, when he knows I'm home- as soon as I get up he starts the whining and howling. Look, two walks doesn't happen EVERY WEEKEND. Most weekends. Who is walking who here anyway????<br />
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I do enjoy the walks, but sometimes it's like a baby shower. Nobody wants to go- but once you get there- it's ok. So I'm gonna put on my shoes and leash up the beast. Take him for a quick walk and then get on with my day. <br />
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But maybe it's nice, taking a few minutes to chill out before the bustle of Sunday happens. Grocery shopping, laundry, cooking. Maybe Max knows what I need. Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-84834849214668590592014-09-07T00:26:00.000-07:002014-09-07T19:24:17.310-07:00The old thingsI watched this movie today called "Take This Waltz"<br />
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It's a few years old and it was brilliant in a way that I can't pinpoint. <br />
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I sort of stumbled across it on Hulu and because I like Seth Rogen and Michelle Williams I just started watching. It was quite mesmerizing in the way that I just didn't know how I felt about it afterwards. I felt a weird sense of longing. A strange sadness. But also this sense of calm. Like, right, that's the way life goes.<br />
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There was a movie many years ago called In the Bedroom where a father finally kills the guy who nurdered his daughter- and at the end of the movie he came back to bed with his wife and it was like, "ok it's done." I remember thinking, "Well, ok then. That's just how that would go."<br />
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After this movie was over, I went to the reviews and synopsis of it- to get a feel for what this movie was supposed to be about. Perhaps I missed it. It was a tame movie, very little drama in the way of emotional outburst and such. The main character finds herself attracted to the brooding artist neighbor. By all accounts it should have been a boring, <em>this sort of thing happens all the time</em>, sort of movie. However there was something so incredibly likeable about all of the characters. There was no "bad guy." The main character, while somewhat troubled, was incredibly endearing and sweet. She is the kind of girl who could be anyone's best friend. She was not some sex crazed woman, not that there is anything wrong with that if she was- but she wasn't. The husband, while not the most passionate guy, was funny and loving. The brooding artist was kind and thoughtful, and while some of the behavior seemed stalkerish, as the "other man" he was not the kind of guy that was threatening. <br />
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What I took away from this movie is the idea of routines. How perhaps in life, we keep doing the same things, but sometimes in different scenery. Long term relationships can sometimes be the very thing that kills a relationship. It seems sometimes that as soon as the new relationship wears off, it slowly starts to settle into that "long term relationship" phase. The one that lasts, or intends to last, forever. <br />
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I look at my life now, and while there are a lot of things that are very different about it. Much of it is the same. I still have to do the same things. What is different is the things I don't have to do anymore. I don't have to deal with the same kind of stressors that I used to have. I don't have to worry about the things I used to worry about. I don't have the same sense of dread and fear when I walk in the house anymore. However, the routine is similar. <br />
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For a little while life shifted into a different reality that seemed like a slice out of a movie they have yet to actually make about BDSM. However now it's back to something a bit more manageable. BDSM is not my job, it's just the way I choose to live my life and carry out my relationship dynamic. The rest of my life looks just like everyone elses. I walk my dog, I do homework with the kids, I do laundry, I cook, I go to parent teacher conferences. For as kinky as my life may be, in some ways it is just as exciting, or unexciting as anyone reading this. <br />
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One of the lines from this movie that grabbed me was: <br />
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<em>“New things get old, just like the old things do."</em><br />
<br />
And that's true. I think what I took away from this movie is that while the new things are exciting when they are new, eventually they become old things. Here I am, at 42, and think I forgot that. I find myself sometimes feeling almost resentful and robbed that I am watching TV on a Friday night, or that I go to bed alone most night. I think, what about the excitement? What about the eroticism that I thought that I found? Where did that go??<br />
<br />
Yet when I think about it, it's still there. I'm just... used to it. I don't think it's healthy to push the bar higher and higher every time I get restless. I think that's how people end up trying to go down Niagara Falls in a barrel to see if they can survive it. My life is good. Happy. Amazing even. However, it's also quite simple. Sometimes very quiet and occasionally pretty boring. Sure I engage in activities that some see as indecent or unsavory, but I know people who eat fat free mayonnaise, and well, that's just <strong>not something I would ever do. </strong><br />
<strong><br /></strong>So what is it that keeps life exciting? What can be done when the new gets old. When the unheard of and seemingly impossible becomes Wednesday? For me, I simply choose to embrace it. I embrace the energy of my life, the people I share it with. The frequency around me. I choose to sink into my comfy chair and enjoy my normal. It's the normal I want. <br />
<br />
If I ever get to a point where I don't feel a sense of longing for something, I will probably be close to dying. So today I will take whatever feelings I have of longing and want for more, and use it as a way to remind me that I'm still alive. Because what I have is what I wanted. No matter what I have, there's something else I will eventually want. Even when I HAVE what I want, I think I will continue to walk something more. I don't think that is live unlived or unfulfilled.<br />
<br />
I think that is just what living is.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-28751897589718659792014-08-15T17:21:00.001-07:002014-08-15T17:21:25.235-07:00Why I like to shop aloneI was making my weekly .99 store visit for lunch snacks the other day. It really is quite economical to as even the cheap Little Debbie snacks are $2 at the grocery and only $1 at .99. I have a mental list of what I buy there regularly, or as needed. <br />
<br />
Kids shampoo<br />
Air freshener<br />
Lunch snacks<br />
Spices<br />
Hamburger Helper<br />
Cookies<br />
Kitchen Utensils (they carry a line of blue or red Betty Crocker)<br />
School supplies<br />
Night light bulbs<br />
Langers Juice<br />
Bread<br />
An all purpose cleaner called Awesome. cause it is.<br />
<br />
Sometimes they will have stuff that is not normally there like Capri Sun 10pks, or once they had twinkies. I bought 4 boxes. Yesterday I found CoffeeMate GirlScout Samoas creamer. I bought 4. I also peruse the isles for other gems that ended up in their store for whatever reason. Also for things like generic candles, jewelry cleaner, wet wipes and cheap squeaky dog toys. <br />
<br />
So as I'm enjoying my weekly visit, I hear this voice behind me. A male voice, talking really fast. Non-stop. I turn casually and see a male in his 30's or so. And he's talking to a girl. They were there together but from the sheer volume and velocity of his speech pattern my immediate thought was "tweaker." I know, it's not cool to make such an assumption but seriously, the chatter was non-stop. I have two sons with ADHD, so I'm used to loud, rapid fire, one-way conversations- but even for me, I was like, "Damn that guy is buzzing!!" So he and the girl he was with seemed to be on the same shopping track as me, so basically they followed me through the entire store. A few times the girl made eye contact with me, widened her eyes in an exasperated "Oh holy hell, will he ever stop talking?!?!?!" sort of way. He never did.<br />
<br />
He was talking about cars, and family, and kids, and cooking, and nutrition, and beer, and driving, and back to cars again. It was amazing. I was surprised that someone could be so unaware of themselves that it never occurred to him that his shopping partner said practically nothing the entire time. By all accounts he was a good looking guy. Tanned skin, buzzed dark hair, brown eyes that looked kind, although dilated. However the constant talking made me want to throw a blanket over him in hopes that maybe he'd fall asleep or something<br />
<br />
As a talker, I know what it's like when you are talking about something, and then another thought pops into your head so you jump the track. I get it. However to continue doing that for 45 minutes- stopping only to take a breath? That is something special. He made eye contact with me a few times, once commenting on the coffee creamer in my cart. I gave a wide smile, but said nothing. I was not getting sucked into a conversation. I might have had to kill myself. <br />
<br />
I have always thought that I will die under very "normal" or very "comical" circumstances, but at that moment the tragedy of dying in the .99 store was too much to consider. What was in my cart would surely come under question. 4 bottles of Samoas Coffee Creamer, 3 boxes of chocolate cookie crèmes, bread, 2 packs of hostess donettes, and some fudge covered graham crackers is not the impression I want to leave on this earth. Even if it was a $15 savings.<br />
<br />
So I wrapped back around to the other side of the store because I had forgotten something, losing the talker. Then I got in line. Only one line open, and of COURSE they are in front of me. Oh for the love of.... he's STILL talking. The girl he was with looked at me again, her eyes in WIDER this time, as if to say, "Can you believe this mother fucker is still talking?" I giggled and sort of shrugged at her. I suspected it was a sister or a cousin or something, because not only did he appear to be much older than her, there was no affection between them to make me think they were any kind of couple.<br />
<br />
They exited the store, and were parked close to me, loading the car and it wasn't until I closed my car door that there was sweet silence. I wondered how they knew each other that she didn't feel comfortable enough to silence him for even a minute. I am always polite, but at some point I might have said,"ok.. chill!"<br />
<br />
Fast forward to today after work. I went to the grocery store and was heading for the cheese section, and ohh myyy god, he's HERE. The talker. HE'S HERE. I recognized the voice and cadence of his endless chatter before I turned my head completely to the side. He saw me and recognized me, smiling in an opened mouth sort of "hey!!!" and I smiled and nodded- and quickly turned a corner.<br />
<br />
Seriously, is this guy stalking my shopping? Is this karma for enjoying grocery shopping alone? Do I need to look over my shoulder for fear of the TALKER? Maybe I need to just drive to the other part of town. Shopping is quiet time away for me. I can think about the meals I want to make, new things I'd like to try, etc. It's not really a social excursion. Most people I know have a rhythm to their grocery shopping- and don't like it interrupted else it throws off the balance of the whole experience. We will forget things. We will spend too much. We will, for sheer comfort, buy sugary, fattening foods because the thought of them eases the anxiety we feel just getting through the experience when the TALKER is close by. For many moms, grocery shopping is precious quiet and alone time.<br />
<br />
Shopping is sacred.<br />
<br />
This guy threatens that. For me. For all of us. Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-57867808587933267632014-08-05T22:10:00.004-07:002014-08-05T22:12:30.469-07:00You don't know me, Facebook. Sometimes Facebook just freaks me out. The fact that it seems to tap into whatever I've searched for on line or on Amazon and then bombards me with ads for it. It's bothersome. This past weekend I was looking for makeup brushes. Then the next day I was seeing ads for mymakeupbrushes.com or something. Today I clicked on a youtube video and the ad was for this make up brushes company. WHAT THE HELL.<br />
<br />
If I type into Google "I purchased make up brushes today" - will it stop?? <br />
<br />
I spend a lot of time on facebook watching videos from <a href="http://www.upworthy.com/" target="_blank">UpWorthy</a> and the website that shows the animal rescues. However, I gotta be careful with the animal rescue videos. Cause first it's the animal rescue. Then it's pet reunions. Then it's soldier/ pet reunions. Then it's soldiers coming home surprise reunions. GAH!!! NOOOOOO..... The emotions. I start bawling before Master Sgt. WarHero shows up and the kids start screaming and crying and I'm done. I'm a mess of tears and snot and it's just not pretty. So I have to click carefully or I'll end up crying in my e-cig.<br />
<br />
The other thing I do on Facebook is take those stupid quizzes. What is your flower? What color is your aura? blah blah blah. <br />
<br />
I don't always like when they tell me what Disney Princess I am because ultimately I get the same Disney princess as one of my friends who I feel is not the same kind of princess as me. Personally I'd like to take a quiz where all the answers apply to me. Sometimes I have to pick the closest one, which is sometimes still very far from anything you'd ever find me doing on a Saturday night. And I am NOT Belle. Miss "fall in love with the seemingly emotionally unavailable gruff beast...." shit. Ok, well the talking furniture would freak me the FUCK OUT. <br />
<br />
I once answered the complete opposite of what I would normally answer and the results still SORT of applied. So of course, I can only take it so seriously, even though I find it somewhat entertaining. I thought I would take 4 or 5 quizzes, and take all of the 'Who I am's and see if THAT gives me a better picture of me. <br />
<br />
My most recent round of quizzes tells me that I am Carrie (from Sex and the City), Roller Girl (from Boogie Nights), Elmer Fudd (from Looney Tunes) Donkey (from Shrek) and Jules (from Pulp Fiction).<br />
<br />
WTF?<br />
<br />
So I am a funny, dense, jackass hunter who can shoot while delivering a kick ass monologue wearing Manolo Blahnik roller skates on my way to write about porn and love in NYC?<br />
<br />
Well, ok then. Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-80542411946785296822014-08-02T11:12:00.001-07:002014-08-02T11:22:53.648-07:00the escape artistThis past week I experienced the horror of the Siberian Husky escaping artist act- twice. <br />
Well, more like one and a half times.<br />
<br />
Actually, it wasn't very horrifying at all- but I did get a taste of that sinking feeling of "when your dog gets out of the yard."<br />
<br />
Lets get a few things straight about Max.<br />
<br />
Max was not the dog I wanted.<br />
<br />
My best friend has huskies, lots of them. She has trained, bred and showed huskies. The first time we visited her house, SR fell in love with her dogs and decided that THIS was the dog we should have. That a 75 pound, extremely needy, very social dog would be a good dog for our house with two boys who were afraid of dogs. Me? I thought a smaller dog, a beagle or even a breed of cuter yappy dog would be good. Something the kids could get used to because he wasn't LARGER than they were. However, what SR wants, SR gets and 9 months later we brought Max home.<br />
<br />
He was a very cute puppy. Loving and fun but loud and more hyper than the kids. They were immediately terrified because he was unpredictable. I can't quite explain the reasons my kids are so afraid of dogs, because neither have ever been in an altercation with one. Well, that's not totally true. My parents neighbors have this really yappy poodle that thinks he's a rhino or something. He chases after the kids, barking and being "menacing." But come on, it's a poodle. It's loud and seems aggressive, but that little shit came up to me once barking as if being in my mothers driveway was such a hassle for her- so I walked towards her, with all the aggressiveness you need to come face to face with a poodle and that bitch ran off. My dog shits bigger than you, punk. Back the fuck up. Anyway, the kids did not want anything to do with Max- and still don't. They enjoy watching the adult interactions with Max through the sliding glass door, but that's about as close as they want to get. My CAT is not even afraid of this dog. He's lovable and wouldn't really hurt anything intentionally.<br />
<br />
Unintentionally, of course, he's the master of disaster. The sheer speed at which he runs cause tree branches to bend and grass to cower back under the earth. If he can reach it, he will chew it and if it's small enough he will swallow it. When he was a pup he swallowed a sock, which was very dramatic for the family- but since his stomach has developed a bit- he will now eat just about anything. He has chewed curtains, jeans, towels, stuffed animals, bike seats, extension cords, hoses, barbeque utensils, and the sleeve of SR's favorite jacket. Usually this is because of boredom or poor crate placement.<br />
<br />
It was never my intention to be the primary caretaker of this monster. Yet that seems to be what has transpired. Despite my best efforts and a vehement statement that I am not a dog person, the care of Max has mainly fallen to me. Let me tell you about me and dogs. I grew up with Dobermans. So being around big dogs is not new. However I have never really been a fan. As a child I was short and skinny and weak. Big dogs could knock me over with little effort. The Dobermans I had were generally NOT jumpers and were pretty calm around people, unlike Mr. Max. As an adult, I realized I am much more of a CAT person, and while I do like dogs, they are usually far too demanding for my liking. They take up too much time and space and attention that could otherwise go to me. All that being said, I have learned to love this big dumb dork and am now taking a much more serious approach to this whole "dog thing" than I had before. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_DNSl5cftQVixx-V4P4nmH4n-GM742XqGO7wyso5e6NZAWCvfjhHSMm9UhFZlYWbETL-p2JmZz2JbuX8w2MoQ1NkbSXCXbASA996ccIN_JcHHVXtKeXQMaTyZ_AmxBlV1TANJW60apPg/s1600/10410730_919076271441166_7972076475197394515_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_DNSl5cftQVixx-V4P4nmH4n-GM742XqGO7wyso5e6NZAWCvfjhHSMm9UhFZlYWbETL-p2JmZz2JbuX8w2MoQ1NkbSXCXbASA996ccIN_JcHHVXtKeXQMaTyZ_AmxBlV1TANJW60apPg/s1600/10410730_919076271441166_7972076475197394515_n.jpg" height="320" width="249" /></a>Max is a year and a half now. Still destructive, but getting better. I admit he was not properly trained- and because the kids are still terrified of him- he is not allowed to roam the house. We tried to make him a mostly outside dog, but with the tick infestation in our area, that has become a thing of the past. I am now obsessed with making sure he gets treated for ticks- as well as spraying the yard and I can't be around him for a few minutes without checking his ears and his huge feet for those disgusting little things, even if I checked just a few minutes ago. But he enjoys being in his crate (he's a den animal after all) and he often whines himself into getting scraps of our dinner- including a whole rack of ribs that were not so great for people but perfect for him, and New York Steak, because there was left overs. <br />
<br />
We let him run around outside for several hours in the morning and before bed at night so he can run off some energy. I try to hang out with him as mush as the heat and my boredom will allow. We have a big backyard and he runs the distance of it several times at top speed. The other night I called him in and he didn't answer. I went outside and he still wasn't coming. I can usually hear him before I see him, the thu-thu-thump, thu-thu-thump of his stride, warning me to plant my feet incase he decides to do a running leap at me. Nothing. Shit.<br />
<br />
So I put my shoes on and remember the words I have heard and read. Huskies are escape artists, and once they get it in their heads to escape, they will wander, and if they see something to chase, they will chase. And keep chasing. Shit.<br />
<br />
In a matter of 30 seconds my mind is going wild with visions of me driving up and down my neighborhood looking for a husky running faster than my car is supposed to go in a residential area. I remember that he's chipped. I hope he hasn't accidentally killed any of the unfortunate stray cats in the neighborhood, again. I hope he hasn't gotten hit by a car. My eyes start to well up a little.<br />
<br />
Shoes on, I head for the door, cellphone set to flashlight mode. Porch light on, I open the front door.<br />
<br />
Hey look.<br />
<br />
There's Max. Trotting up the porch looking, well, <em>bored</em>. Hey mom, can I go to bed now? GAH!!! You ridiculous dog!! He didn't even go anywhere. Or if he did, he came back. Either way- he was safe at home. I would have scolded him if I thought he knew what he was being scolded for, but I hugged him instead. I noticed a lifted slat in the fence. ONE lifted slat. How my big dog slithered thru a slat I couldn't fit my calf through- I don't know. Huskies don't really <em>slither</em>, you know? My best friend said they must dislodge their shoulders and hip bones. I'm not even sure how he got his head through it.<br />
<br />
Two days later I am headed to the store with Jerkface. I didn't want to get dressed so I was still in my short nighty and Jerkface will run into the store and buy the coffee creamer for me. So I round the corner and look- there's Max. What the??? I fixed the slat in the fence and- damn it!! So I stop the car and get out. In a short nighty. No bra. No shoes. This is lovely. Max runs over, and passes me. I call him, leaning forward with my tits AND my ass hanging out. Calling my big dumb dog. He finally comes by me once more and I grab him and then walk him back home. Jerkface is terrified I'm going to put Max in the car with us so I just walk him home. No, it <strong><em>didn't</em></strong> occur to me to make Jerkface wait outside. So while I didn't want to walk into the grocery store in my short nighty- apparently walking my DOG is ok. Super.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, we bought new slats and replaced the fence. Ha HA Maximus! No more unsupervised walkabouts for you!! But look! I got you one of those squeaky toys that you love so much that you chew the squeak right out of!!! Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-57338308198259693492014-07-28T23:11:00.000-07:002014-07-28T23:11:10.758-07:00Capable dumbSo yesterday SR posted results of a personality test. The left brain/ right brain one. He was 60/40 with the higher being the left brain. <br />
<br />
I clicked it and decided to take it, assuming I would be the exact opposite or 20 left/80 right. It was about 12 questions and I answered them. My results came back.<br />
<br />
80 left/20 right. <br />
<br />
Wait, what???<br />
<br />
80% left brained? "I am logical, analytical and rational."<br />
<br />
What?? Says who?<br />
<br />
So I took it a second time and it came out the same. Clearly this test is askew. So I looked on line for a few more tests and they both came out the same. Clearly left brain dominated. <br />
<br />
I popped on line and shared these results with my bestie. She said "So you don't agree with the results that you are left brained, so you went on line and took two more tests to prove that you are not left brained? That's very left brained of you." <br />
<br />
Blarg.<br />
<br />
Logical, analytical and rational? Ok, well I guess I DO try to stay calm instead of emotionally explode most of the time. I will often try to see someone else's side in an argument or confrontation- simply because taking into account the other persons point of view just helps everyone. I AM a pretty decent problem solver when things are a mess. I have this process of looking at the problem from all sides and taking into account all the people involved and deciding what is more important and who benefits and all that. It's quite effective. I RARELY make snap decisions. I'm never one to just say "hey lets do it!" without thinking about all the stakeholders in my life and how it might effect them. <br />
<br />
But does that mean I'm logical? Of course not. A rational person doesn't.... well, I know I've done something irrational lately. Haven't I? <br />
<br />
So yes, this has been on my mind. I did some research (oh my god) on the whole left brain/right brain thing and I think my assumption was that left brained people are really smart and right brained people are not. No, not that they are NOT- but that they are more, I don't know, free spirited. Left brain = type A. Type A = bossy. Bossy = not free spirited. Free spirited = not smart?? Wait, that's not right. <br />
<br />
I guess my point is that I don't usually consider myself one of the 'smart people.' I get lost in my own neighborhood and I have no idea which way is north unless I am looking at a GPS which tells me which direction I'm going. Everywhere I go is "up". I go up north, I go up to San Diego, and apparently San Diego is south??? All my life, Riverside was East, because you had to take the 91East to get there. But now that I live in Riverside, I have no idea which way East is. And if I'm not on the freeway, forget it!!<br />
<br />
I have been happy to assume that I've been "capable dumb" my whole life. Maybe I used to be that way- it's hard to remember what I thought of myself before my 30's. I am not sure if I am, or if I have just believed it because maybe that's what people told me. Whenever I do something impressive, people assume it's a stretch for me. Or maybe I just make that assumption on my own and have been trying to sell it to people- and well, I can be a pretty decent salesperson, but I always assumed that was because of my boobs. <br />
<br />
See what I did there? I did it again!!!<br />
<br />
I've been too much of a slut to be left brained, haven't I?<br />
<br />
I don't think being left brained means I'm smart. I understand that now. I think it means that maybe I'm not as dumb as I thought I was. If I take a moment to look at my life, and my achievements, I guess everything points to Not Dumb. So why am I so hesitant to believe that? Even when people point out those achievements, I brush them away with bird brained reasons for why I did it. <br />
<br />
My friends don't think I'm irrational or illogical. I doubt they think I'm smart, but I don't think "dumb" is what comes to mind either. I'm just Julie. I'm my own descriptor. Capable dumb. Yes, that is a term I'm comfortable with. That's probably not a good thing though.<br />
<br />
I feel like maybe I have spend a lot of time thinking that smart people are humoring me. There was a friend of mine, I called him Jack, don't ask, and he was mega smart. He used to talk about all sorts of things that were over my head. He never really let me get away with thinking I was too stupid to have a conversation with him. (Conversing wasn't exactly our <em>thing.) </em>He would talk to me about whatever smart people talk about and I would do my best to follow, and if he saw a blank look on my face, he would keep talking and then curve the conversation around to explain whatever it was that he lost me on. He was super cool that way. However, I always thought he was just being polite.<br />
<br />
So now I have to figure out what this all means, and if it has had any effect on my life. I think I AM left brained, based on the theory of what left brained means. But what has been the effect on me from thinking I was right brained all my life. Are my talents unused. Have I missed opportunities because I didn't have the confidence to think I could succeed? <br />
<br />
For the record, I never would have considered myself artistic or creative like the right brain theory says. It was a process of elimination. I'm clearly not THAT, so I must be this. However, maybe I was wrong. Maybe you CAN be a logical and rational slutty attention whore who secretly wishes people would break into song in every day life. <br />
<br />
It's all so double rainbow for me. <br />
<em>What does it mean??</em><br />
<br />
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Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2534326503808905000.post-75671520101406327782014-07-27T21:14:00.000-07:002014-07-27T21:18:06.566-07:00Smells like preteen spiritHaving a preteen is exhausting. <br />
<br />
My 11 year old, or as I lovingly call him, Jerkface, is a particular blend of it. For starters, he's a good looking kid. If this is his "awkward phase" which 11 usually is, then I'm in serious trouble. He has his dad's good looks which I was afraid of. His father, in his younger and healthier days was very handsome despite the fact that he was always stocky. I admit that his good looks made up for a multitude of sins when we were dating. <br />
<br />
Jerkface also has a mix of both me and his fathers personality. Which means he is overly emotional, an attention whore, vain, chatty, a hypochondriac, afraid of strange things and a pretty good dancer. I won't tell you which trait comes from which parent. So chances are he will grow up to be handsome and charming, but with a dark side...AND a pretty good dancer. <br />
<br />
Big fucking trouble.<br />
<br />
The thing about preteens is that they are AWARE of their preteen status but think that it means something. Being a preteen means you have not reached the asshole status that makes you a teenager, but that's your next step. It's like being next at the checkout stand at the grocery store. It's not your turn yet. You can put your items on the conveyor belt, but the cashier is not going to look at you just yet so don't try talking to her. Preteens start talking to the cashier and trying to hand her money for the items that haven't been rung up yet because they think being next is as good as being first. No. Being next means you are NEXT. Wait your turn, pal. Simmer down.<br />
<br />
Lets face it, teenage boys are assholes. They are useful for household chores and later on, to lift things that are heavy- but they do it while whining and asking you to make them something to eat. Or money. Or the keys to your car. Teenagers want to barter everything, or worse, they have the audacity to think the family dynamic is some sort of democracy. I have a 19 year old, who I call PunkAss, so I know what I 'm talking about. Just last month when he came home to visit he tried to tell me he didn't have to help with the dishes because he was on vacation. I reminded him that this is not a hotel and unless he wants to pay me $69.99 and buy his own food, he will be happy to help out around the house and pick up his own damn mess. Seriously dude, I may be cool, but I'm still your mother.<br />
<br />
So Jerkface is a preteen. With all of his 11 (almost 12) years of experience on this planet, he is certain that he is telepathic and doesn't need to listen to what I have to say because he knows already. I can explain something once, twice, three times a lady and he will say "Ok Ok" - which is the universal code for, "I'm not listening anymore." Then he will go and do something sort of in the vicinity of what I asked for, but not quite. Sometimes not even close. <br />
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Jerkface has only one regular chore. Doing the dishes/ cleaning the kitchen. He took over this job after PunkAss went off the Marines. He is not very good at it. Every few days I have to go in and ACTUALLY clean the kitchen, wipe the counters and often rewash some dishes. I don't complain about it too much, because his version of tidying up is often sufficient for my sanity. However, I do acknowledge that he doesn't do a great job. He has been asking me for an allowance. He wants weekly money so he can, <em>buy stuff</em>. By <em>stuff</em>, I know he means candy and other miscellaneous junk. I don't know what he needs more junk for anyway. My kids are not without snacks around here. Hello, do I have the ass of a woman who doesn't keep snacks around the house? The kids expect some sort of dessert every night, thank you ex husband for starting THAT horrible tradition. There is no lack of chips, soda, and cookies around here. We have pizza at least once a week, every week. <br />
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I started out giving him an allowance when he took on having chores, but that deal was quickly rescinded when he had to be reminded to do his chore constantly. He would do whatever he could to get out of it. Complain of being too tired, or not feeling well, or whatever dumb excuses an 11 year old can come up with. Sometimes I would give in, sometimes not. Then, when I noticed the piss poor quality of his work, I said I wasn't going to pay him for it, and YES he still has to do it. <br />
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I got an allowance when I was a kid. I think the intention is to teach kids the value of a dollar and how to save their money etc. Didn't do me any good at all. My allowance was always blown the same day I got it and to this day still tend to shop within a few days of payday and have little to no savings. <br />
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He asked me again last week about getting an allowance again, since the complaining and angling for ways out has lessened. At the time, I was cleaning some dishes I had used for baking. I said. "No and here's why." I opened the dishwasher and showed him bowl upon bowl of "clean" dishes that were in fact NOT clean. I told him how often I have to rewash things before I use them. I pointed out the mini crock pot that had water soaking in it for 4 days now. <em>Gross.</em> I told him that when he actually starts doing a good job, perhaps there will be rewards, but no promises of gold. <br />
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His efforts to improve lasted about two days before is started to slack off again. I have asked SR numerous times if we can pay someone to come in and clean the house. Not daily, but maybe once a week. Have someone come in and do the floors, the counters, the bathrooms, vaccuum, wash the sheets and remake the beds. Three hours tops. How much could that possibly cost. Personally I think it's worth it. A few hundred dollars for me to have a clean house AND a big ass is a win/win for me.<br />
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So today I gave Jerkface a simple task of throwing out the cat box and sweeping the floor. No not, cleaning the cat box, but putting the whole think in the bag- and out to the trash because I got her a new one. First he complained about why HE should have to do it. Then he tried to get me to do part of it. Then he whined and said "Ok Ok." <br />
<em>Can you see where this is going??</em><br />
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<img src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/55920ba018b82d81e78983ea22aff2ae/tumblr_mm1levVrRY1qgt6uyo3_400.gif" /><br />
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Seriously- this is a pretty easy job. Take offensive box and slide it into a garbage bag. So I go into the room where he is doing this task, and I see him trying to dump the box into a bag, and then half of it spilling on to the floor. Ack!! At least it's a tile floor and not carpeting. He looks at me and attempts to BLAME ME for this because I should have helped him.<br />
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Ho there- cowboy!!! If you has LISTENED to me in the first place you would know that I instructed you to throw the whole thing in the trash. Not dump it. I made it as easy as possible for you. So this is not MY fault. This is your fault for being a jerk, you asshole. <br />
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Ok, I didn't say that last part- but he's telepathic. He knew what I meant. Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16992538724633902928noreply@blogger.com0