My 5 Random things meme

I've been tagged by Recovery Discovery to post 5 random things about me, so here goes....

5. I have a thing for shoes. Yeah, I know it's not unique or anything, after all I am a chick. This is new for me though. I never really cared much for shoes, except for that time when I was thirteen and I paid $90 for a pair of 'moon shoes' that ALL the girls begged me to borrow. I got to wear them once or twice, then they disappeared into the abyss of young teens awaiting their turn with the 'moon shoes'. They were white leather flats, with a gold inlayed crescent moon and stars on the toes. Magic! Right now my favourite shoe is the sling-back peep-toe. I have 4 pairs and I think I'm going to need to acquire the ones pictured. They're so frilly and pretty.

4. I LOVE princesses and princess dresses. I want to be Cinderella. Seriously.

3. I'm secretly lazy. If I didn't have to work, I wouldn't. But I like to have things and I love to have money, so I toil. I don't want to though.

2. I take things too personally. Everything must be my fault. I don't know why. Perhaps that's something to investigate.

1. I love my bed. Particularly lying in bed with my man. We're on holidays and have taken to laying in bed watching movies, not going to sleep until 5 a.m. and not getting up until 2 in the afternoon. I'm in heaven!

I really am not all that shallow, but it would appear I sort of themed this '5 random superficial things'.

Merry Christmas!!

I'm getting ready for a white Christmas!

Yup, we're going to the mountain. Just the two of us. He bought me a new snowboard and all the gear so I'm all decked out. Now....if only I could get the hang of snowboarding! I'm tragic. That's ok though, we have a whole week and I'll get private lessons every damn day if I have to. I'm going to be an actual snowboarder by the time this trip is done if it kills me. It could do just that too. An hour into my first two-hour lesson I snapped my tail bone real good like. I didn't know it at the time though, and I just plodded on. Made for a painful trip. Last year I didn't do much better, although I didn't break anything, so I guess that's better by definition.

THIS YEAR is my year. I'll get it. Mind over matter right? Just strap on that board and take control.

I'm so excited! I've now gotten over the guilt of leaving everyone behind for our selfish alone-time holiday. I was a bit concerned that my boys would think me evil, since they don't live with me and holidays are our time. It turns out though that they're happy for us. Even my mom, who I was really worried about was ok with it. I made him tell her he was taking me away because I was a coward. Apparently rather than the passive aggressive guilt-inducing response I expected, she smiled and told him to have a great time. I was worried about her because since my brother's death, I'm it. And she loves Christmas.

In-laws to the rescue! My mommy-in-law is having my parents over for dinner on Christmas day. It's so nice that they all like each other. So this year, I don't have to have 15 people lounging around my house, with all the wrapping paper and dirty dishes and shoes at the door and general chaos (sigh....I do love it so).

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!!!!

Does this really make me a Codie???

You Are 2: The Helper

You always put on a happy face and try to help those around you. You're incredibly empathetic and care about everyone you know. Able to see the good in others, you're thoughtful, warm, and sincere. You connect with people who are charming and charismatic. At Your Best: You are deeply giving, altruistic, and humble. You devote your life to others while caring for yourself too. At Your Worst: You are manipulative and enjoy making other people guilty. Your Fixation: Rejection Your Primary Fear: Being unworthy of love Your Primary Desire: To be loved unconditionally Other Number 2's: Mother Teresa, John Travolta, Princess Diana, Dr. Phil, and Mr. Rogers.

What Number Are You?

Have a GOOD ONE??

I am getting fed up with people telling me to 'have a good one'. What good one am I supposed to have? Do you mean a good day, a good guy, a good lunch, a good orgasm? WHAT?? I have missed something. Clearly I'm in the dark. Please turn on the light.

What the fuck ever happened to 'have a nice day', 'enjoy your lunch', 'thank you for your patronage'...? Why do they all keep telling me to have a GOOD ONE?

I may snap next time I hear it.

A Man and His Dog

As I sit here now, he's staring at me with his big brown eyes, chest heaving. He's whining, looking at me, pleading for help, yelping quietly, but screaming with his puppy eyes; eyes that are showing the first signs of cataracts, as if it weren't enough, the cancer eating away at his muscle and bone.

His dog. My man's overly loved, well spoiled 12-year old Jack Russell. Normally, I must admit, I do not enough patience with this spoiled dog. I love him sure, but he's been sort of ruined by my man's inability to play alpha dog unless provoked by extremely bad behaviour. It isn't the dog's fault really, he's been coddled his whole life, but I often find his neediness tiresome. However we have formed a certain respect for each other, in that he knows he cannot get away with things with me and I respect that :> I love all animals and cannot expect too much I suppose, having entered his life after 7 years alone with his human.

What strikes me now is how hard this is for me, this news we received today. The pain he's in. It's playing with my heart in ways I was not prepared for. What started as a simple removal of benign growths ended with a phone call from the vet to say that they were not so benign after all. They're cancer. He has doggy cancer. He's all cut up, sutured and bandaged. It's unpleasant! This shouldn't surprise me too much since his sister died of brain cancer last year, but it does nonetheless. Now we await word on the type and prognosis.

What strikes me even more is how much this has affected my man, his human. He cried and cried when he heard the news. This 6'2" 230lb. former body builder and professional fighter, broke down and bawled right there on the spot. It's not so surprising that he cried, he's a sensitive metrosexual man, but the grief. I have not yet had to help him with grief, and it's an interesting character study. I'm learning about much about him. For instance, for all the loving, cuddling and understanding that he doles out, it turns out he doesn't accept it very well. During his initial break down, he wouldn't hug me back. He let me hug him. He said 'thank you' when I told him I love him. Thank you. Mechanically. Thank you. Not even with feeling. I found this interesting. Now that he's had time to process this sad news, he's moved into himself. It's interesting. I'm going to keep watching.

My Happy Place for MPJ

I have been publicly shamed by MPJ over at A Room of Mama's Own to hurry up and post my happy place for her Group Writing Project; I missed the deadline and she has kindly given me an extension so here it is!

I have many happy places, such as being in the company of my 3 teen boys, or simply sitting in silence alone in my home after it's just been cleaned from top to bottom. I also love to float on an air mattress in the pool on a hot day. Those are happy peaceful times for me, but there is one place that I love most of all and I realized the other day the significance of why I love it more than all things.

We were sitting on the couch, hunky hubby and me, watching TV when he reached for me to snuggle in to his chest, as he has so many times before. I smiled as my heart skipped a little faster (yes, I still have butterflies for his tenderness) and I settled in, feeling any anxiety, stress or negative feelings clinging to my psyche from a stressful day just fade away as I rested my head on his chest and pull my legs up under me. I have always loved this place and often to really snuggle in, I rub my face back and forth across his muscular chest, massaging my forehead while he strokes my hair. At times when I'm feeling anxious and need to calm down, I will make him stop whatever he might be doing to let me rest my head on his chest if even for a moment. This time I just settled in and closed my eyes. I had just started to doze, when he let out a soft laugh. As I felt/heard his voice reverberate through his chest, I was overtaken by a long forgotten memory.

When I was very little, my mom left my dad. Through a series of events, we ended up far away from home, just the two of us. Being in a new city with no support and due to the fact that I was only 4 years old and therefore too young to be left on my own, my mom often took me with her to social outings. When it got late, I would climb into her lap, settle my head on her chest and just listen to her voice while I rubbed one of her fingernails with my thumb. She always had pretty long painted nails and for some reason rubbing her nail while feeling/hearing her voice through her chest made me feel comfy and safe no matter the surroundings.

So there you have it in all its' simplicity. My happiest place is laying on my man's chest, listening to his breathing/talking, partly because it takes me to the safe warm place of my mama's lap, but also because I'm so in love and connected to this man, and he makes me feel happy and serene.

Not Enough Time!

I wish I had more time. I just need a bit more time. I squander a lot of time sure, but still...

I have been feeling very discombobulated lately. Scattered. It seems like I have too many balls in the air, but when I look, I mean really look at what I do and what I need to do in a day, it seems like there should be more time.

As I get older I find myself less efficient. There was a time when I was always moving, doing...cleaning. I was painfully OCD about my cleaning. I'm much better now. In fact, there are a few dishes in the sink this very minute and is that, wait, yes it is, a dust ball in the corner. I feel very good about my ability to allow my house to become just this side of messy whilst I widdle away my time lounging on the couch, iBook in my lap and/or phone to my ear. And even with this squandered time, I find it difficult to post here at my humble blog. It might have something to do with Cunt Face Social Club and my super secret society blog site. I get to do my ranting and bitching there, but I really should take more time to pay attention to my lonely, largely unread blog.

Would you visit me if I did?