In My Own Backyard?!?

I’ve always thought of myself as being fairly observant. Even when I was a kid, I often noticed things that others missed. Especially things in nature. Is it because I’ve been blessed with super human powers? Nope… Surprisingly enough, I sometimes just know when to shut up, listen and watch.

So you’ll appreciate my surprise when I discovered something I had never seen in my backyard. The same backyard I’ve “owned” for 4 years now. The backyard that I spend so much of my time in.

What is this little new-found treasure you ask? Grapes. Yes…I have grapes growing in my yard. GRAPES, damn it!

At first I didn’t know what they were. OK OK, I guess I knew they were grapes, but I couldn’t believe that there was this fruit of the Gods, right there under my nose, and I didn’t even know it.

After finally accepting that yes, I overlooked actual edible things growing in my actual own backyard, I decided it was time for a taste test. I expected them to be bitter and utterly disgusting. But alas, I was wrong! They were delicious, sweet, and supple. It’s was as if I uncovered a 1 ft. by 16 ft. little Italian vineyard right at my back door! As lame or pathetic as it might be, this discovery made my day.

Come to think of it, there are number of really cool things that can be found in my backyard! There is the little bat, Geoffrey, who ended up in the yard after dislocating his wrist (I took care of him for a couple of days until an ‘expert’ took over. And yes, that really is me feeding him).

And there is my fabulous slate patio, where I sit in the evenings and watch the hummingbirds fight it out at the feeder.

So yeah, things that I SHOULD notice may escape my attention here and there. But I’m not going to complain about a happy surprise. I’m now wondering if there are other little pleasant secrets my yard might behold. Who knows, maybe money really DOES grow on trees. If so, I hope I’m the first one to discover it.

Married Man Magnet

Throughout my adulthood, my female friends have all said one thing…that they each attract a certain type of man. They might be assholes, nerds, womanizers, liars, meat heads, etc. But I’ve never felt like a certain type of man was attracted to me. I understood it in theory, but had never experienced it, until now.

Since my divorce, I’ve discovered that I am indeed preferred by certain type of men. Married ones. When I was married, I had male friends. Some of them were married. Some of them were not. But it never EVER was more than a friendship…always appropriate. No lines were flirted with, much less crossed.

Even though I am single again, nuptial men are STILL totally and completely off limits for me. So what has changed? Why now does it seem like I am a married man magnet? To the best of my knowledge, I haven’t opened any doors that might lead a married man to think that they would have a chance.

I suppose it’s possible that the divorce changed the molecular structure of my DNA, and I now emit pheromones that say, “if you’re married, let’s GET IT ON”.

Case in point: There are currently 2 married men ACTIVELY pursuing me. Single men in the chase? ZERO. Oh wait, there is the 22 year old that technically is ALMOST young enough to be my son. But other than that, my suitors are currently wed.

And it’s not that they are just flirting with me. One of them has told me that I’m his ‘dream girl’. Sweet, and yet creepy, especially in light of the fact that his wife is carrying their fifth…yes FIFTH child. The other has forgone all formalities and come straight out and told me that he’d like to have an affair.

The lesson? There could be a few. Is it that some men are pigs? Or is there a BIGGER picture/lesson: I should be content in my singleness…that marriage is just like everything else…you exchange one problem for another. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll be the wife of one of these charmers. Statistically speaking, I won’t even have to cross my fingers.

So when it comes to my love choices, either I’m a pedophile, or a home-wrecker. I guess I could always become a lesbian.

Sometimes Less Is More

 

It’s not something I’m proud of, but yes, sometimes I do it. IT being that I occasionally buy US Magazine. Now that I no longer watch the news or read the paper, how else can I keep up on the really important current events?!

There is one thing about this intellectually retarded read that drives me nuts. It’s the “Stars-They’re Just Like Us!” page. This weeks brilliant insightful revelations: “They Buy Furniture!”, “They Feed the Parking Meter!”, “They Shop for Groceries!”, and “They Wait for the Bus!”

I really like how there are exclamation points after each statement.

Do they really think that we, the readers, as stupid as some may be, don’t realize that celebrities are actually human (although the jury is out on Oprah)? When I see this amazingly moronic page, it creates in me a desire find the Editor, and punch him or her in the baby-maker.

What are these genius’s going to come up with next? “They Eat Food!”, “They Actually Intake Oxygen!”, “They Wipe Their Own Asses!”. Really people. Is this the BEST you could come up with? Just break down and let Massengill douche away this sludge and fill the page with some advertising. It would a better use of paper.

 

Why My Friends Scare Me

“Oh, you two would be awesome together”, she says with the giddy excitement only a school girl at a Britney Spears concert could match.

“Why?…What do we have in common?” I ask.

“Well…ummm….you’re both divorced. AND, you both have kids.”

Wow, and we both have nipples, the same number of chromosomes, and don’t have monkeys flying out of our asses…a match made in heaven!

Today’s Top Ten

TOP TEN REASONS IT ALL SUCKS

10. My A/C broke this weekend…it was 90 degrees in my house.

9. My new puppy is pissing all over my house and attacking my children non-stop.

8. Today I paid $316 to have said A/C fixed…just 2 months after paying $160 to have it fixed. I’m SO glad they convinced me to get the ‘best’ model. Horse shit.

7. It doesn’t matter what I do (or don’t do)…It won’t change it.

6. I spent Saturday in the E.R. with my 7 yr. old son. Then we spent the night sleeping in my 90 degree house with his 102 degree fever. I hate seeing my kids suffer.

5. Half of everyone I know has cancer…wtf!?!

4. My self proclaimed title isn’t even a little bit of a joke anymore.

3. I got angry at my child today and reduced him to tears…I suck.

2. Someone (who I love and respect) described me as being on the “return shelf”. If this is how someone who knows, loves, and even likes me views me, well…I’m screwed.

1. Sometimes it hurts so bad I can barely fucking breathe.

 

Ironic that I would post this after my “Bitchy-o” rant. But I figured this is one of those times when spewing out the putrescent phlegm that are my thoughts might help. Yeah, not so much. But luckily you (aka ME) gets to read it! And you thought you were gonna get some D. Letterman. Ha ha! Suckers.

 

The Return of an Old Friend

I had forgotten how good it felt. The burning of the muscles in my thighs and calves. The sweat running down my face, stomach, and between my breasts. Breathing hard…pushing faster and harder, seeing how much further I can go.

Running was there during a difficult time. It was the best (and cheapest) therapy. It did things for me that no person, cigarette, or exotically named drink could do. At a time when everything in my life felt out of control and overwhelming, it was the one thing that grounded me.

Since becoming a “runner” (a term I use very loosely), I’ve heard many people say “I hate running”. It’s not that I love the actual run itself. It’s what it does for me that keeps me going.

Science has shown that endorphins are released when you exercise, and I’m sure it’s part of the allure. I reaped many benefits physically, of course. But running also helped me mentally and emotionally as well. When when I ran, it gave me a moment to reflect. No children, no husbands, no housework, no responsibility except putting one foot in front of the other. It allowed me to focus on and contemplate things with no distractions. I made some of my most important decisions while running.

I’ve run a couple of 1/2 marathons. Not a huge deal…millions of people have done it. But its interesting what training for and accomplishing a goal like that can do for your overall esteem.

The past few months, I’ve had some ‘distractions’, and as a result, my training has fallen by the wayside. So when I once again found myself in a tough spot, I turned to my old friend.

It’s amazing how much the body remembers. How even a month of doing nothing can’t take away a year and a half of work. This past week I picked myself up off of the proverbial floor and hit the pavement (OK, the treadmill). Unfortunately, I’ve yet to be hit with the bolt of clarity lightning that I was hoping for. And my life still slightly resembles an impending train-wreck. But hell, as with anything, it could be worse. If nothing else, yesterday someone told me I had a nice ass.

Just Say No to the Bitchy-O

A few days ago I asked myself this question: Does ‘venting’ help of hurt?

I’m sure that if any of you (and by you I really mean me, seeing as I’m my sole reader) have actually read any of my previous posts, you might have noticed a trend. I have a tendency to gripe. Does it help? Does having my thoughts and feelings out there improve my state of mind?

My amazingly wonderful friend Carlie is always there to listen to me. Lately our conversations have been like re-runs of MASH. A different episode, but nothing changes. Klinger is still trying to find a way out, Hawkeye’s priority is still getting laid, and Hotlips is always pissed off. Carlie is ever patient, willing to listen, and support me (I don’t deserve her). She is a constant that I know I can count on. But just because she is a willing victim, does it mean that it’s good…for either of us?

The other day while boo hooing to her over the same shiz, I stopped mid-sentence and just said, “you know, I’m sick of talking about this. I’m tired of hearing myself bitch about the same thing”. And you know what? It felt good.

I have truly become annoyed listening to myself complain about my life. Does it mean that NOT talking about my crap will make me happy? No. But I’m starting to think that when I move from discussing a problem to letting it dominate conversation and thought, it confirms and cements my insecurities and feelings, rather than alleviating the pain or bringing some sense of peace.

The gist? Or at least MY version of it: Yes, talking about problems can help. For me, I know discussing or writing them down can give me some clarity and perspective on the subject. It’s therapeutic. But when I harp on something…refuse to let it go…I cannot heal. The more energy and emotion I give to something, the more it seems to take on a life of it’s own. It becomes consuming. The times when I’ve talked about it, and then just said to myself, “It’s over with. It’s in the past. Yep, it sucks. Sure, I’m hurt, but what’s done is done. Move on”…that is when the true healing has begun.

When something goes from being a problem to monopolizing your life, I think you literally have to FORCE yourself to stop giving any more weight to the issue. Bitch-slap yourself out of the cycle, and make a conscious choice and say YES, I want to heal and NO, I will not let this problem rule my life any longer.

Maybe that’s the biggest step…realizing that you DO have a choice. You may not know how to stop being angry, or how to not let it haunt your every thought, or how to stop hurting, but actually deciding (not just saying) that you want to get over it is half the battle. The rest, I believe, will come in time.

I’m sure I’ll continue whine about the ex, my kids, my life in general, and will occasionally cry over spilt men…I mean milk. A good bitch session now and then is necessary. I may do it with my friends or in this forum. And I hope that my friends will continue to come to me when then need comfort, or to just plain whine. But I’m going to attempt to turn over a new leaf…or at least occasionally wipe off the leaf I’ve been working with. Spend less time wallowing in the shit and spending more time smelling the roses.

Get your umbrellas…a shit storms acomin’!

When it rains, holy hell does it pour.

Not taking into account the pile of steaming excrement that I lovingly refer to as my life, it seems like everyone around me is in some kind of crisis. And instead of it letting up, with each passing week the problems not only increase, but get worse.

Yesterday a good friend of mine found out that cancer had spread to her lymph nodes (Note: This is the SECOND time she’s had cancer). This morning I received an e-mail from one of my closest friends. Her husband, who is also a friend of mine, had a growth on his testicle. The offending ball was removed. Yesterday they received the news they DID NOT want to hear…that it is indeed cancer, and it has spread. They have a baby who is just shy of her 1st birthday. My best friend from childhood just had her 3rd miscarriage.

In the past year, I have an alarming number of friends whose marriages have come to an end (mine included). Couples whose togetherness I would have bet money on (I’ll include myself once again) have divorced.

There has also been a number of deaths of people I know. No one has been safe from the Reaper…not the elderly, thirty-somethings such as myself, and unfortunately, there have been a number of babies. And my dog. 😦

Is it just a fluke? Is there something in the water? Is it just that things happen in cycles…last year was the year of the monkey, and this is the year of the feces? Maybe the God of death and destruction has a scorching case of herpes, and we poor souls are feeling the brunt of his wrath. Whatever it is, I genuinely hope that it will soon come to an end.

I’m not a real believer in what some might call ‘mystical’ things. But I do believe in the power of the human mind and spirit. That being said, I don’t know how to harness that power. Hell, I can barely even keep my own head above water. Often I feel powerless and at the mercy of something much bigger (and more sinister) than myself. Regardless, I’m putting it out there…my good karma, prayers, wishes, hopes, etc.

To all of you suffering, whether it be physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually: Keep on trukin’ kids…it will get better. Or at least it will be OK…however it turns out.

Confirmation #183

I don’t know if every divorcee experiences this, but throughout the almost 1 year since my divorce, I have continually gone through phases when I doubt myself. Wondering if maybe I made a HUGE mistake. Asking myself if I really did all I could…if it was worth it.

I know that ending my marriage was what needed to happen. Heartbreaking and horrible, but the lesser of two evils. Even though I know this in my head, in moments of weakness, there is a slight bit of uncertainty.

This week, for reasons I won’t get into, the doubt crept back in, and in the middle of my questioning, I received this text from the ex:

“Thinking about you and just want you to know I’m sorry for your hard times. I love you Meg, and even though we have trouble talking sometimes and I’m an ass too, I want you to know that I want the best for you. You are a great woman and mother and I’m in your cheering section”.

All together now….Awwwwww.

Luckily I was married to a man who, despite his efforts here and there, will never escape his true nature that is, well, inescapable. I can always depend on him to squelch my doubts at the time I need it the most (like this time).

Today on the phone, after he informed me that he can’t watch the kids during my meeting (the same standing meeting I’ve had every other Wednesday night for the past 2 years), I was irritated to say the least. Hearing him repeatedly say “Fuck you” is exactly what I needed to hear…It really was.

Wise words from my father

My dad had a little saying when someone would annoy or piss him off, or used it lightheartedly when me or my siblings would harass and tease him. “Assholes do vex me”.

Dad, for entirely different reasons, I know EXACTLY what you mean.