So...This Is It???

Over the past few weeks I've thought a lot about my 16 year old daughter and how she's...well, pretty much grown up.  The idea that my cute bald baby that used to scoot around my kitchen floor is now practically an adult is something that reduces me to tears.  With her 17th birthday just around the corner, I have to wonder to myself...is this it?  All these years?  All this time?  And now...bam!  Adult!  Just like that...off to get a job, step into the real world and what?  Is my job over?  It's really too much for my brain to comprehend.  I know I'm being dramatic and ALL the kids grow up and they leave home and do things, but it just happened so fast and I really don't know what to do with myself.

20 years ago, I was the young adult leaving the nest and I have vivid memories of that day.  I was sitting in the passenger seat of the car as my Dad was driving me to the Greyhound bus station.  I was excited and nervous to be shipping off to Army boot camp with my best friend, Leah.  As we drove to the bus station I was kind of zoning out, it was early and I was tired and I knew I had a long ride ahead of me from Florida to South Carolina.  Every few seconds I heard my Dad sniffing and before I looked over at him, I had this fleeting thought..."I didn't know he had a cold..."  And as soon as I looked over I realized the sniffling wasn't from a cold.  He was crying.  My Dad.  Crying.  And in that moment it hit me...how could I have been so stupid and selfish?  How could I not have known that leaving home would affect my parents?  Up until that point it had been all about me...I want to be an adult!  I want to leave home!  I want to spread my wings and be in charge of myself!  And here is my Dad driving me to a bus station, not knowing when he's going to see his kid again, bawling, wiping his eyes with a handkerchief and it never once occurred to me that this day would make THEM sad.  And now I know...now I know why the hardest thing to do is let your kid go.  Did I teach her enough?  Did I tell her how much I love her and how awesome I think she is?  Does she know how to cook dinner?  Can she do all this without me?  Yeah...she can.  I did and she can too.  She's going to fail sometimes, but that's part of learning to be an adult, and it's ok.  :-(

How'd You Do It????

Every once in a while I get brave enough to show that picture there below.  That is, of course, the "before" picture on the left.  It sounds soooo dramatic!  Look how terrible I looked BEFORE!!!  As if the after picture is the end all, be all...as if happiness can only be found in the after picture...

  

Anyway, people are very kind when they see the picture.  I usually hear things like "Oh my God!  That doesn't look anything like you!"  Or..."WOW!  How much weight did you lose?"  And to tell you the truth, I really hate answering that question, because I can see the internal calculations in their eyes...the subtracting, the figuring and then the realization that, yes, I am still fat.  That's right...I've lost 90+ pounds and I still have a large amount to lose.  I'm not "there" yet.  I don't really know for sure that I'll ever be "there." 

The truth is, it takes work to achieve a goal.  You always hear that you can be anything you want to be, or you can do whatever you want as long as you set your mind to it.  Well, ok, that's true, but let's not forget the amount of thinking, planning, deciding, and just flat out DOING that takes place to get to that goal.  It's not easy, in fact, as I sit here and write this post, tears are rolling down my face because weight has been a battle I've been fighting for close to 20 years.  If my predictions are correct, I think I'll be battling it for the rest of my life, I will just have been one of the lucky few to battle it from inside a slim body. 

The big question is always, "HOW'D YOU DO IT???"  Everyone always wants to know...how does a person lose 90 pounds???  They're like, "Hey!  I'm fat too!  I want to lose weight just like you!"

For this latest round of weight loss, I've entered myself into a fitness competition.  If you're overweight, I'm sure "fitness competition" sounds scary.  It's not.  It's just a fancy way of saying, "I paid $25 to try to lose more weight than any of the other people who entered so I can win the $250 prize."  Nothin' to it!  These fitness competitions seem to work for me...I like the idea that other people are out there working super hard to win a prize that I really want and EVEN IF YOU LOSE the money, you still WIN!!!  How cool is that?  Even if I ONLY lose 5 pounds, that's 5 pounds less than I was before and that is most DEFINITELY A WIN!  This competition is 8 weeks long and I set a goal of 25 pounds.  That's just over 3 pounds per week, but I think if I stick with my diet and exercise plan, I can come very close to the mark, I am EXCITED...here we go!!!

So...Happy Birthday?

I was at King Soopers this morning in search of the perfect birthday card.  It doesn't exist.  There.  I've saved you a lot of trouble...now you know, the birthday card that says everything you want it to is not out there.   Stop trying, you won't find it...just buy something that folds in half, stick a gift card inside and call it done, ok? 

I've been sitting at my desk for the past four hours trying to figure out what to write in this damn card!  What to say, what to say?  I don't know!!!!  Oh God, I don't know WHAT the hell to say!!! 

         "Dear New Boyfriend of 2 Months, Hi!  Happy Birthday!  You're cute! 

 Ok, bye!  See ya later!"

No...that won't work, I sound like an idiot.  Bye?  See ya later?  Really?  Ugh.

     "Dear Roger*, Hey, remember that time you peed on the toilet seat and you  

   wiped it right up?  Yeah, that was pretty awesome.  Anyway, Happy Birthday!"

*Name changed to protect the...whatever...forget it, this one is dumb too...

                                  "Hi Honey Bunny!  Happy Birthday, you're awesome and I hope you have an awesome birthday even though you won't be with me and I made all these plans and it was going to be so fun, but whatever, you'll be with your family, and I guess that's cool because I mean, that one lady did give birth to you and all, but it's like..whatever, like...we were gonna play air hockey together and eat steak and I was gonna be all heyyyyyy happy birthday, here's an awesome present, do you love it, do ya?  do ya?  So, it's fine, I'll just be at home by myself, watching Netflix with my bag of microwave popcorn and I'll be fine...so you go do your thing."

Oh, um...I guess that one was mostly about me?

 

                                    "Happy birthday, I hope you have a good birthday.  I hope all your days are good.  Not just your birthday.  Birthdays are kinda dumb.  It's just any other day.  Maybe we should get cards everyday...like..."hey, congratulations for finally ripping that toenail off...you've been picking at it all week...so...congrats dude!"

Wow.  I am really NOT good at this, am I? 

  "Good morning, and a very happy birthday to you, kind sir.  I hope you have a

  lovely day.  Best Regards, Your very formal and awkward girlfriend."

Mhm...I am sooo getting dumped.  This is not even funny anymore!

  "Hey!  It's your birthday, so here's a gift card to Starbucks.  I know you like that place because one time you said...I like that place, so, I thought, cool...he likes that place.  So, Happy Birthday, and here's some coffee!  Love, Me."

Love?  Love, me?  No....too soon.  Can you sign love when you're not all....heyyyyyy I looooove you, yet?  Can you?  Can someone please answer me because I'm all over here like...I don't know...Is that a thing?  Helloooo???

    "Happy Birthday, Sweetie!  I hope your birthday is as special as you are, you are one of a kind and deserve to have that adorable smile on your face, all day, everyday!  Love, Me."

That's gonna have to do...that's totally good enough.  I mean...I hope so...right?  It's good...it's totally fine...totally.  He'll love it.  Well, the starbucks card, at least....

Oh No you DIDN'T!!!!

     So, it starts out like this...There I was, minding my own business, when all of the sudden, out of NOWHERE, Mr. Perfect practically fell out of the sky and right into my lap.  I was a little hesitant to give Mr. Perfect (we'll call him Mr. P for short) the time of day, but I was immediately drawn in by his kind words and pretty blue eyes.  It didn't take long for me to REALLY like Mr. P.  After all, he said ALL the right things.  ALL OF THEM!  It was nice to hear things like "You're pretty!"  "You are amazing!"  "You mean EVERYTHING to me!"  I was like OMG!  Mr. P is sooooo sweet!  Like SOOOOO totally awesome!  I'm like hayyyyyy ya'll, look over here...this dude said I was pretty AND I mean EVERYTHING to him, so you all just better recognize!  

     I was pretty happy there for a minute.  I was like awwwww....Mr. P...so sweet....you gave me a card.  A cute one.  And another one with lots of words...and I'm sure you meant every word that was written on that card, didn't you?  EVERY.LAST.ONE!  I am SURE of it!  I could never be wrong about something like this!  He likes me, he really likes me!  

Like I said, I was pretty happy...getting tons of attention and hearing that I was pretty great from someone I thought was pretty great was...well...pretty great.  But then I was all...I don't know, man.  This guy says ALL the right things.  Is this real life?  Do guys really say ALL the things I want them to say?  Yeah, probably not, but what the heck...ya know, let's go with the flow and believe it anyway, because he's nice to me and what's the harm in believing that somebody would really want to be nice to me.  WHAT IS THE HARM IN THAT???????  HMMM???  I am asking you!!!

And then...one day I was like, ya know what, something just doesn't add up here and that's when I did a little digging and figured out HE WAS MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  And I was all...REALLY?  Did that just HAPPEN?  So I made my WTF face...which you will see below.  All that time.  All those words.  All those lies.  For what?  What was the point of that?    

Well, I was quite miffed, as you can imagine.  No.  Miffed does not cover it.  I was pissed.  And hurt.  And like WHAT THE FUCK???  WHO does that?  THIS guy, apparently.  THIS guy does that.  Spends hours upon hours making me believe that he gives a rat's asshole about me, only to have a wife at home probably totally unaware that he is a total sleazebag-dirtball-lying-no talent assclown!!!  So...I went on ahead and did what any normal, sane woman would do.  I called my best friend Kelley and cried like a little bitch.  I was all "Kelley...what the FUCK!  Why would he do that to me?"  And she did exactly what a best friend should do...she was all, "Where is that mother fucker, I'm going to rip his fucking arms off!"  And then I was all..."sniff sniff, but I LIKE his arms, Kelley!"  And then I mostly got over it...because what the hell else can a girl do, except of course rip up the cards and...change his name in my phone to ASSHOLE.  And then go through and erase every little trace of him from my life.  Ahhhh....that feels better.  

Oh look...he wanted JUST ME!  It says it right there, with a heart exclamation point and everything, so it must be true.  Too bad about that whole wife thing, man...too bad!  Those were some real nice lies.  Moving on, with my awesomeness in tact.  Good day!

Well THAT'S Exciting!

I got tickets for me and Rocky to see a concert in May!!! Woo hoo!!! Who's excited? Me! (And Rocky, I hope!) We're going to see The Fray at Red Rocks and it's going to be awesome! I love having something to be excited about and something to look forward to, and getting to spend time with Rocky alone almost never happens, so...yay. Yeah, yay!

Check out the pics of this awesome place...







And...a song The Fray is famous for...how can you not love these guys?

Nope!

So I haven't written in this thang for a minute. I've been in a "nope" kinda mood. I'd like to thank a good friend for introducing me to "nope'ing." It's been a hoot, lemme tell ya! It doesn't matter what the question is, the answer is always NOPE! Wanna go see a movie? NOPE! Shovel snow? NOPE! Flush the toilet? NOPE! Whatever you want me to do...NOPE! Don't wanna do it! Everytime I start to write a blog post I get hung up on...is that too much information? Do people really wanna read about boys and breakups and bad skin and all the whining that goes along with it? Yeah, not really. So since I can't write anything worthwhile, read the following blog post from one of my favorite blog writers about adventures in depression. If you can't relate to it, gosh, ya know, I don't know if we can be friends. NOPE!

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2011/10/adventures-in-depression.html

It All Started With The Popcorn...

...and quickly went downhill after that. If you've spent any time reading these ding dangity pages, you probably already know that my life is one little train wreck after another, in which the heroine, meeeeeee, always comes out on top...or somewhere squished in the middle of the dogpile of life.

This week is really no different. It started out with the movie popcorn...which I left overnight in my sweet ride. Opening the door on that fine September morning I realized day old popcorn smells like wet cardboard soaked in skunk piss and was not likely something I'd be consuming later. Who the hell takes a doggie bag of popcorn home? Yeah...me...and oh yeah, in a desperate attempt to get salt into my system, I did indeed eat said popcorn later during a dark and lonely night while watching netflix. I WAS DESPERATE, OK???????

Stinky popcorn, really...no big deal, however, the fact that I have water trays in my freezer is turning out to be a HUGE deal. Water trays? What's that, you say? Well that's what mother effing ice trays turn into inside a brand new (used-new to me) freezer. My favorite part...god, I love this...is when the ice bucket completely thaws and then re-freezes into one HUGE SOLID CHUNK OF ICE. That shit don't fit in your water bottle real nice, no it don't, honey. Did I mention I stole $500 from my ex husband to buy this stellar piece of shit refrigerator? Did I mention that? Because, if I didn't, well now I am. No, I'm not a thief...well, not a thief ON PURPOSE...but when your old joint account checkbook (lavendar, hee hee) looks IDENTICAL to your "I'm-divorced-now-and-this-checking-account-contains-all-my-money-and-not-yours-ya-rat-bastard" checkbook, well, let's just say that a girl shouldn't be judged too harshly when she grabs the wrong one to frantically pay Alberto the fridge guy. Don't you judge me!

As if a stinky car, a broken fridge and stolen money weren't enough to bitch about...I got a ticket in the mail the other day. This is significant because I gave up one of my favorite past times a few months ago. Speeding. Ohhhh, how I looooved to speed, here and there and everywhere. It wasn't until I had gotten pulled over about six times in one month that I realized I had a problem. A problem worthy of SA-Speeder's Anonymous. I was so lucky that each time I got pulled over, I knew the cop! And this was great for me, ya know, because I didn't have to flash mah boobs or nothin! Because, really, at 36, the old boobies aren't what they used to be. Shoot, the way they lookin' now, I wouldn't be surprised if the cop didn't double the fine.

Anyway, back on track...the ticket was for running a red light...one of those rude-ass red light cameras that takes the WORST picture as you're running the stop light. Did I really look that bad driving? Do I always look so damn ugly in the car? Shoot, that's probably why nobody ever lets me merge! This is crap, seriously...there's no reason I should look THAT shitty while driving. Should be a crime! Haha! Wait, maybe it is! The sad part, is that I've been practicing being a good driver since the self intervention, I really have. I go the speed limit, I don't pass EVERY-FREAKING-BODY...I drive like...my DAD. What's even sadder, is that I have no memory of running a red light. And THAT, my friends, is the very definition of a bad driver. When you run the stop lights so frequently that it doesn't even occur to you anymore that it's the wrong thing to do. Slap my label on, folks. I suck at driving. And have the ticket to prove it.

...And the drama continues...over the past few months it's become clear that the neighbors of my cul-de-sac are no fans of mine. You see, I have the pleasure of being the single mom of the 'hood and folks don't take too kindly to that 'round these parts. I had gotten the impression that I wasn't welcome pretty much right away...the first day I mowed my lawn and apparently it was a spectator event. As I looked around the houses I noticed that after a few minutes of mowing, 5 of the 7 houses had their occupants firmly planted outside looking on at the anomaly that was occurring in their very own neighborhood. A WOMAN was cutting the grass. A WOMAN? Gasp! It cannot be, but it was. I, Ginger (last name here), was indeed breaking allll the rules and revving that engine all by my little old self.

And ya know...if it had stopped there, I wouldn't have minded so much...but one week, Ms. Single Mom over here got about 25 hours worth of overtime dumped into her lap and, well, as I am a good little worker bee, I went off to work in the wee hours of the night and did not return again until the sun was beating down on my tired face the next day all seven days of the week. Exhausted was an understatement. I should have known something was up when I saw my next door neighbor...we'll call her "I-don't-work-because-my-husband-does-that-for-me," or IDWBMHDTFM, for short, outside as I was leaving for work one evening. I was wearing my ugly ass work issued polo along with my work ID when she asked in her scrunched up "I'm totally judging you right now" face, "what do you dooooooo???" I replied with a big smile, "I'm a 9-1-1 dispatcher, ma'am." She turned on her heel and started back into her house, calling over her shoulder, "well, THAT must be very interesting!" Well shit yeah it is! Fuckin' A right, lady! Mystifying exchange, it was, but I had no time to dwell on it, until the next day when I was desperately begging the sleep Gods for a small blessing, just a few hours of that delightful unconsciousness I so badly needed.

The phone rang. The fucking phone ALWAYS rings when you work nights. It was the property management company. Yay! It's always good news when THEY call! NOT! I was politely informed that I had not cut the grass that week. Oh, and there's a brown spot you single mom whore, did ya notice that? Did ya? The neeeiiiigbors are complaining! Something must be done, NOW!!!! As my foggy brain tried to process this information, all I could think was, wahhhh, I JUST fell asleep. You ASSHOLE! But, being threatened with all things scary, such as fines, eviction and neighborhood ostracization, I did what any sensible tenant would do. I fucking got up. I put some fucking clothes on. I opened the fucking garage. And I mowed the fucking grass. I also said the f word to myself as I did it. And because I know the people on my special little circle like me so much, I danced to the tune of my iPod. Yes. I did. And it was RAPPPPPPP music. Oh Heavens no! And ya know what else I did? I watered the shit out of the brown spot. For three days in a row. I'm actually pretty proud of that...raised my water bill by a good 20 bucks, yes I did!

Oh how the property management company loved that. They loved it so much, they even gave me a note on my door with a sweet little smiley face that said, "Thanks! Good job!" Awww...I feel so accomplished now. I did a good job...this week. Over the next week to two weeks, work wreaked havoc on my life again. The grass...well you know where this is going, don't you? Sadly, the grass grew again. I KNOW! I couldn't believe it myself. Fucking traitor ass grass! If you guessed that I got another phone call from the yard police with some more nasty threats...well ding ding ding, you guessed right. And the process repeated itself. Drag tired ass out of bed...cut stupid piece of shit asshole grass...make scrowly face while doing it...all this occurred. It was epic. Neighbors placated. Property management company issues smiley face #2, blah blah blah.

After too many weeks from hell at work, life gets a little more normal. Grass cutting 101 commences. Weekly grass cutting. No bitching from neighbors. Life is good. Until I got the notice. The city...gosh that sounds scary...anyway, the city says that the big ass dead tree in my yard MUST come down because there have been complaints from surrounding neighbors. Hmmm...IDWBMHDTFM must have made a phone call to the CITY. So...my grass is green and purty now we have to complain about the tree. Nice. The owners hired some dudes to chop the tree down, that mo fo was big. Like supa fly big, y'all. They must have been thirsty tree choppers, because when I came home, I found empty water bottles littered all over my yard. What a nice bunch of assholes they must have been. Ya wanna know what else I found in my yard? A giant huge ass bigger than yo mama big fucking pile of wood chips. See picture that follows...

Yeah...it's been there almost a week. It's killing the green grass I so lovingly watered the shit out of. The property management folks don't know whennnnnn they are going to remove the wood chips, but they better fucking do it soon because I don't know about you, but I'm a little afraid of IDWBMHDTFM...I'm sure she's already been on the phone whining about Mount tree-sa over there. (That was a play on words there, did ya get it? Like the leaning tower of Pisa? Except with Mount and tree? Haha)

Sweet Revenge
I am not a vengeful person...if you don't believe me, please see previous posts, re: divorce, where I did not, in fact, sugar anyone's gas tank, key any cars, or burn down any houses. However, when I woke up one morning to find my tire flattened to hell and gone, I could never have guessed what sweet revenge the universe would bestow upon me. Ahhh, I like to smile now as I look back on the lovely scene that played itself out right in front of my very eyes. Do you remember IDWBMHDTFM? Do you remember her? She doesn't like me. I know this. I have accepted it. Anyway, there I was, minding my own business, waiting for my friend to rescue me from the misery that is a flat tire, when IDWBMHDTFM's HUSBAND crossed over to my side of the driveway and said, "Excuse me, I notice you have a flat tire, would you like some help?" I nearly passed out but had the wits about me to gladly accept his kind offer. I did what any smart woman would do in a situation such as this. I offered to help fix my own tire, to hand over a tool or two, but the man helping would have none of it, because he was saving the day. It's some primal thing, I don't really get it and I genuinely do feel guilty when people help me...but nothing made me smile bigger than when IDWBMHDTFM came outside and saw her husband changing MY tire. I think the sun shone a little brighter on me that day, and I have to be honest, I really had a hard time not rubbing it in. I may have winked a little when I thanked her for letting me borrow her husband. I couldn't help it...it was just so...magical. I really shouldn't be so gleeful about such a thing, but I was downright giddy. And of course, appropriately thankful. I know I will pay for this with some other complaint...but for now I will relish in that moment.

I'll have to wrap this up because I fear my tales of woe will begin to be unbelievable. Such as the $1,000 bill I just got for the ONE college class I'm taking through my job that is supposed to be FREE, or the fact that I've been accidentally paying 40 extra dollars a month for rent...or that my rent is being raised by 45 dollars if I renew my lease. They have me by the balls. Surely insomnia is believable. I haven't slept more than 2 hours a night for 5 days. I push my head as hard as I can into the pillow, hoping that will do the trick, but sadly, I am just tired and have a sore neck.

I'm going to take my sorry ass off to bed, where I will dream of chocolate frosted donuts, cool weather and more smiley faces. After all, winter will be here soon and I'm sure I'll get a good job sticker if I shovel my snow. I can just FEEL it!