Blah blah blah

This is a good Saturday, one of those yawning days that seems to stretch on forever. Up early, like every Saturday, but blessedly done with most obligations by noon.  Looking forward to going to the bar tonight, for maybe dinner, definitely a few beers.  Hopefully Maureen and Don will pop in, I have yet to hang out with her outside of work, or meet the famed boyfriend, but I'd like to.  I'm on something of a mission, to increase my inner friend circle. We need more "couple" friends, grownups as couples, that we can have barbecues with, go to the bar, whatever.  Intelligent conversation, varied interests, all that happy shit.  Next weekend, Leah and Chris are coming over for the First Official Barbecue of the Season (woo!).  Really excited about both the aspect of a barbecue, and hanging out with them.  Then Maureen's bringing the family over for a 'que, in a few weeks, and the cherry on the awesome Month of May Sundae is Memorial Day weekend, when Jake is coming over, and bringing a trunkful of beers he's been cellaring, including some Nugget Nectar he's laid aside, and possibly a bottle of the fabled Dark Horizon.  He said he's saving them just to share with me. Best friends forever.  Now for the fun of planning menus for all of these get togethers.  I live for entertaining.

Also, my birthday and Mother's Day. Last year they went over with a resounding thunk.  I always expect too much, (like a card from my son, and flowers from my husband) and wind up being disappointed.  All I want this year, is to go camping. I could do with the flowers and nice things, but I'm dying to go camping, I've been trying to plan something since the season started, and I've been getting shit from husband....so maybe I can get bratty about it, around my birthday.  Here's hoping.  My mother noticed the bald tires on my Jeep, and said she wants to buy me tires. I said "do not buy me tires for my birthday"  She said she'd give me money, for tires. I told her I would spend it on booze and whores.  For fucks sake, tires?

I have PMS. I know this, because I've been listening to a solid rotation of Gossip, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Amanda Palmer, and Hole.  That, and my dire need for beef, dark chocolate, and dark beer (even more dire than usual! During this time of the month it goes from a mild want, to a pervasive, almost painful yearning...).  I've also switched from light and floral perfumes to my smoky, sexy badass scents, like Wanda and Vintage.   My hormones swing weirdly, not by moodswings, but by taste changes, and craves. 

Alden has these weird phases he goes through, where one week he's so insanely good, and by good, I mean 360 degrees. Good grades, good bowling scores, excellent behavior, motivated, intelligent, interesting, perky...I mean, it's fucking crazy.  Then, he'll have a week where his IQ drops to below functional, lying, being lazy, acting stupid, trying to get over on everyone, sneaky, shitty grades, shitty bowling scores. Seriously, his bowling scores change when his whole mode dips.  I wish I could find the magic, like we have today, and make it go forever.  I wish I could find where he loses his shit, and help him prevent the downswing.  Days like today, I want to reward him, buy him anything he wants, take him places, spend loads of time with him, and we go like this for awhile...then inevitably he will do something ridiculously stupid (like lying to my face) that brings it all crashing to a halt.  Sometimes, I think the rewards and extras he gets for being awesome (like taking him out for a special lunch, or spending an afternoon playing Magic: The Gathering with him) brings about the crash. Something ego-related.  I hope not.  

Paranoia?

I need to get this sorted out. I don't even know what I'm going to type, except that I have to do something, anything.  Things have been weird in the house, and at first, I thought it was me. I thought it was good old red-blooded paranoia, on my part, so I've been spending a great deal of time sorting out my own feelings and motivations.  I'm beginning to see that maybe it isn't just me being paranoid.

Things I know:

Irv has been very squirrely about money.  Acting like we're in deep poverty, so broke we can't even go grocery shopping for a few things here and there, refusing to go out to eat, going on and on about money, making me pay for all kinds of stuff.  Really cutting back on all sorts of stuff, important stuff, not just luxuries.

He has been grumpy and short tempered.  Standoffish towards me.  To the point where it's affecting everyone, and as of tonight, blowing up in our faces, and causing a ridiculous bullshit fight.

There is a real, palpable tension in the house, coming from his direction.


I way oversimplified it, but those are the pure facts.  Now, operating on intuition (only, no cards yet. I still feel a little close to the matter, to start flipping cards) I feel like he's obsessing about money and the control of it, and somehow punishing me, or taking something out on me, involving finances. In one case scenario, at least.

Another case, and I don't even want to begin thinking about it, has to do with what my mother has said.  During our huge issue, back in January, when I was talking to my mom on the phone, she said "You be careful, you watch the money. Make sure you know what he's doing with his money, that's how I found out your father was cheating on me."  It's been galloping around in my head since she mentioned it.

Things I know, regarding that:

He has a bank account that I don't have access to. Maybe two, I'm not sure.  He said he opened it to make chasing his checks at a certain bank easier, and for a Christmas Club sort of thing. Said he would put a bit away every month, to make the holidays easier.  Great, we used it for that, two Christmases ago. Not this past holiday, though. He said it was because he stopped putting money there.

I told him in the middle of all that, that I would start saving every penny and making sure I was ok, financially, because I needed the ability to be independent. I was ready to pack Alden up and leave with him that night.

I half wonder if he's subconsciously keeping me poor by having me pay for more and more things around the house, so I can't save a hundred bucks from one month to the next.  So...tell me, at least, so I can plan for it.  I half wonder if he resents my newfound solvency since the raise and extra hours at IFF, and is taking it out on me in certain ways.  I half wonder if he is stashing a large amount of money in secrecy, then I wonder why. Is it like my mother says? I honestly doubt it...but it could be paranoia on his part, setting in.  It could be that he wants to buy some sort of huge equipment, and he knows I might question it. (I've never said no to him making a big purchase in his life...I mean, fuck, he bought a Ford Bronco two years ago, and it's been sitting in front of our house, he drove it maybe a dozen times....)

It's causing me a lot of stress.  Barbecue season is upon us, and I like entertaining. I can't mention having someone over, without a terse "why?" or "well, fine, but keep it cheap" or some vague non-answer.  I can't make plans to go anywhere-do anything, not camping, nothing, without either the vague shrug, or some argument.  I've been cooking from the freezer and pantry for months, only going out and buying groceries, with my own money, out of desperation. Any time I mention groceries, I get the vague shrug.

It's not about the money. It's about the evasiveness. The sneaky feeling, the terseness,  the silence.  If he came right out and said, "hey, since you're making more money right now, can you cover the groceries?" I would agree in a heartbeat...I mean I already have been, hell.  I just want to know, I want it to be on my own terms.

This will make no sense. I am going to go back and read it anyway, to see if I learn something new about myself, and my situation.  Then, maybe, since I've dumped it all out of my head, I can do a good clean tarot reading about it.

Quick Dream Notes

I had a strange dream last night, involving Leah having a book signing, and her being an honest to god celebrity. The book signing was at this huge touristy cabin resort thing in the woods (why resorts? Always resorts?!  Seaside resorts, balmy island resorts, and now mountain retreat type resorts...there's a tarot reading about this in the future, I do believe...) and the place was filled with people from my past, distant acquaintances, folks from grade school who I didn't really associate with. People I wouldn't exactly look for today, to socially network with, I guess. I was in such a great, beaming mood, in my dream though, I was smiling and waving at all of em.  Some waved back and we struck up conversations, and some just glowered or ignored me.  I remember, distinctly, having the thought about a few certain people "If you can't get over 6th grade bullshit drama, and smile and say hi, for all the time we were friends before that, then you have some serious unresolved issues."  And, promptly dismissed them from my thoughts.  I contrived to be last in the line, with my book, so I could hang out and talk to Leah, some, and maybe help her clean up afterwards. Her books filled every shelf of the place, and she was alone in a huge room with them. She said no, because she had a staff, but she welcomed my company anyway, and we snacked on popcorn together, and chocolate, I think.  Her book was very bright, small, and perfectly square, filled with pictures, with some sort of stencilly or stamped writing across the front.  I remember feeling so happy for her, and so benignly proud that someone I call a friend, someone so talented, has really made something of herself.  Great happy feeling.  

I came out of the dream distinctly wanting to search for an old friend, this guy Kris I used to know. We were friends in middle school, but sort of casual "hanging out in the same group" sort of friends. He was funny, intense, and really athletic, and treated me well (which was a tremendous deal, to a fat, awkward, bookish pre-teen.). But, I never really developed feelings or a crush, except for an easy sort of pleasantness.  We contrived to sit near each other, and hang out, but besides that, nothing.  Then he moved to South River, which was about 20 miles away.  He would find ways to come back to town and visit me, even riding his bike from there to here (!!)...but always it was sort of an easy, super light, super casual friendship.    Then, the letters started. We became pen pals, for whatever reason (pre internets, people actually wrote letters to each other, whoa) and it was again, casual small talk.  Then the letters became more flirty and a little more serious...then in short order, they became downright filthy, raunchy, totally oversexed.  Here's me, at 13, writing things back and forth regularly that make my 31 year old self blush at.  We continued the correspondences, keeping in touch in kind of a filthy way, till we were about 17, then he moved again, and we lost touch.  I never saw him again after that one time he rode his bike to my house, and we stood around in the driveway gossiping and tossing a baseball around.  Weird, right?  I thought of looking for him on FB or something, but I'm afraid it would turn from "hey, how ya doin?" to cyb0rs in about 3 notes.  Hilarious, and awkward.  Not a good idea at all.

I had another dream last night, too, but I will maybe elaborate on it later.  It was weird, too, involving a vampire convention, chili, and a weird pervasive sexual feeling.

Goddess of All Things Awkward

If you cast a circle, and called upon the Universe to show you the patron deity of all creatures ugly and awkward, the Queen of them all... There would be a poof of bristly hair, a strange cheese-musk aroma, a fanfare of snorgling and groaning, and then there would be Bella.

I love her so much, this dog of mine.  This morning, I woke up to my pillow snoring lustily. I peeled the corner of my pillow back, and there was that face, even more rumpled than usual, pissed at being woken up, glaring outward. She's like a Picasso.  She's postmodern art.

Discipline

So, I'm on this whole self-discipline kick.  It came about when I woke up yesterday morning feeling like total shit. Tired, sick, sore, achy, like I had some sort of stomach flu.  I didn't had a stomach flu. I had a bad case of drank-beer-ate-garbage-and-played-WoW-all-weekend.

I look over the last few months, and I realize this is more than just a weekend lark. This is how I've been living lately. Shitty habits, too much time sitting, eating, drinking, soaking my brain in bullshit. Not focusing enough on my body and brain.

Yesterday, I began, I started counting calories, drinking more water, and today I started working out again.  I'm also going to try to blog a little every day.  I'll sit down to blog, and think "this topic is boring, I don't want to type about it." But then, I spent years typing up boring shit, and it did me wonders.

Here's why else I'm doing this. My son has some problems writing. The boy can elucidate, charm, lecture, discuss, and talk up a motherfucking blue streak. If you were to hear him express himself, you would think he's a very small adult. He reads well, too.  I thought the two went hand in hand, at first.  Since he can sit down and devour a good novel, and tell me at length in minute detail what it was about, I thought this writing thing was pure laziness.  I'm starting to feel differently.

 He has a very very hard time writing.  His actual physical writing looks like that of a toddler's.  A very young child, just discovering his hands, and his pencil.  Upon deep consideration and observation, I've decided that he needs to keep a journal. He comes home every day brimming with thoughts, feelings, drama, stories, ideas, and he will follow me all over the house talking nonstop for two or three hours straight.  We're going to channel that.  He's going to start keeping a diary, as in the good old "Dear Diary, today was a good day..." sort of thing.  I was the same age, when I started mine, and I've been journaling steadily in many forms since then.  Maybe, at this tender age, I can plant some good habits in him, some good, self actualizing, school performance enhancing habits.

I feel like he's shifted his attitude of not giving a shit, and charming his way through school, to now really worrying about his grades, and at least his near future, and now he's ready to take responsibility, and show a little discipline.  I am too.

I need to lead by example.  I get more done when I write.  I feel more accountable to myself, when I get analytical.