Dirty Little Secret

Ok I am going to just say it. Spit it out.



I HAVE LICE.

Yes, I said it. I meant it too. Our house has been plagued by lice for several months now. It started with a visit from a friend. She found out while visiting that her daughter had it. And the fun began. Everytime we get rid of it someone else in the neighborhood passes the nasty visitors right back. And WHY do they pass it back? Because we are all to ashamed to admit that we even have it. Because lice is dirty, right? There is such a stigma attached that rather then admit to having lice we all just keep pretending as all the boys suddenly find being bald is totally in fashion and no one is letting anyone in there houses. "Lets hang outside!" Because we are dirty, dirty, dirty.

BUT the truth is this: Lice prefer clean heads. Did you know that? They can't breath in that oil, can't reach your life saving blood through the crap. So the truth is, if you have lice, it is probably because you are CLEAN people. Who the hell invented this shit anyway? What god decided LICE was a great idea? What purpose do they serve to the whole? Punishment? Have I been very, very bad?

So we have done everything, RID, SLATHERED OUR HEADS IN VASA-FUCKING-LINE, nit picked for hours, but those fuckers keep on coming back. Now we are trying the wash your hair with Denorex and coconut conditioner and blow dry for 10 days route. This time, we shaved the boys heads so they won't have this problem. This time somehow, Layla doesn't have any lice. This time I am the only one with BUGS IN HER HAIR. (I bet your head is itching RIGHT NOW). THIS time, I told my neighbors. Because I would rather be shunned by hypocrites then eaten by bugs.

There isn't much point in this blog. Just wanted to say it out loud. Besides, Nicki is the only one who ever reads this anyway. LOL.

Forget

Yesterday, I took the best nap. 2 hours of deep sleep late in the afternoon. Unfortunately, it was a mistake, as almost all late afternoon naps are. The inevitable happened when I went to bed for the night, as I tossed and turned with my mind going a mile a minute, it was clear, sleep wasn’t going to happen again soon. So I got up and went to watch TV. I had wanted to watch Private Practice anyway and my husband deplores the show so it seemed like a good time to watch it. 

Boy was I wrong. First off, let me breakdown Private Practice for you. Hot doctors run a private medical practice in which they almost always cause more harm than good. Such as voicing their opinions to patients, writing books about them, having sex with them, kidnapping them. Whatever, don’t judge me for my nighttime soap addiction. It is ENTERTAINMENT. Except with this series, it is ALWAYS tragic. Like, I cry every single episode; which is why Eddie has banned it in the house. He says it is pointless depression. He is probably right. Well, last night’s episode was expected to be a doozy. One of the doctors, a neurosurgeon, fell off the wagon and was going south fast. I should have known better. The show ended with her sticking a fucking needle in her arm. 

Why, why, why do I do this to myself? Jeremy was already on my mind. My cousin sent me some great pics of us as kids playing at Grandmother’s house and this one in particular has Jeremy with this wonderful giant cheese grin.  I forgot that Jeremy was a goofball, forgot that he could smile like that. Forgot, forgot, forgot. 

So I went to bed, and tried to forget, forget, forget the image of that woman shooting up, tried to not put Jeremy’s face in her place. I don’t know which hurts more - Jeremy as a dead junkie or knowing that he was once a silly, smart, goofy kid once. Forget, forget, forget…….

I watched a movie the other day called The Southbounders. It was about a women who takes 6 months off from college to hike down the Appalachian trail. It awakened something in me. The part of me long buried because I married a city boy who prefers AC. I watched this movie in complete and utter envy. Because there is no way I could do that. 6 months on a trail? I have kids and I am also immensely out of shape. I ONCE RAN, YES RAN UP THE GRAND CANYON!!! Just because I saw some guy doing it on our hike down. I RAN UP. I about died at the top and some lovely foreign girl threw a bottle of water on me ( I LOVE HER FOREVER). BUT I did it. I I I I I did THAT. NOW? Now I go to Walmart and come home exhausted. It was a more then subtle reminder of my lack of fitness.

So, want to hear the good news? The awesome reminder of how I didn't totally marry the wrong guy? I told my man about this movie and he got really excited. He wanted to do it just as much as me. He said it sounded like an adventure of a lifetime and wished we could do it! I was so shocked and pleased I no longer cared about the damned Appalachian Trail. I don't need to take a 6 month killer hike to find my inner hippy. The problem was I didn't think it was a part of me I was able to enjoy because it meant making my dear husband miserable. I WAS WRONG. I suppressed my inner outdoorsy girl for nothing. Once again proving that I am unnecessarily  self sacrificing. When will I learn that I have nothing to prove to anyone? When will I learn that I don't have to NOT do something because no one else around me enjoys it? When will I simply do my own thing, walk my own path, HIKE MY OWN HIKE? I think I am on my way to figuring that out. HIKE YOUR OWN HIKE. Think I need to make that my next tattoo. :)

If Your A Dreamer...

     How do  I begin to tell the story of my life? Should it be a classic tale of a girl who grows to be a woman? Should it be a modern tale? Start in the middle and work my way back and forward and everywhere between, leaving the audience confused and perplexed and wanting more? I could make a trilogy! Should there be vampires? Would anyone even want to hear the story?

    I sort of get the feeling that most people think I am either trying to steal there tragic thunder or I am a huge liar. The truth is simpler and worse. I share my experience with someone hurting in hopes that they won't feel alone and therefore, better about their current hellish situation. The truth is also that, unfortunately, I am not lying. Almost any crappy thing that has happened to the average American, has happened to me too.

    Part of me admits to feeling a bit of smug satisfaction with that knowledge. I mean, I have survived shit most people implode and die over. Yet here I am, wondering what the hell your problem is while also completely relating to it at the same time.

    Do you want to know my story? It is a indulgent story of tragedy and strength. Of overcoming the worst and celebrating the best in life. It is a story about knowing that no matter what the world throws at you, you CAN survive it. You can THRIVE. It is MY story. The story how I went bat shit insane and never even realized it. It is a love story. A journey about learning to love myself and love my life and to see the beauty in it all.

Ode to Ramen

Ode to Ramen

Oh ramen noodles

How do I love thee

Let me count the ways

I love your salty monosodium glutamate

And the way it swells my hands

The wonder of the ramen is infinite

The delicate refinement of cooking you EXACTLY

The right amount of time to avoid a soggy disgusting

Sticky mess of something that once resembled noodles

How I love you is beyond me

But I do love you ramen.

I really do.

Beauty is Everywhere

Maybe it is the drugs, but I am quite content at the moment. Times are tough, money is tight and I am sick as a dog but I look at my dog who is snoring and farting and I look at my baby love who is also snoring and farting and I can't help but think : LIFE IS GOOD. I love the way the sun feels on cold days. The contrast of cold and warm is so lovely. It makes me feel alive.

Only the Lonely.

Why is it all the people I love the most (family excluded) live in different states? None of them live near me or each other for that matter. If I could do it, I would move everyone of them to the same street. I have never lived anywhere long enough to really have a sense of community but how awesome would it be to have all your favorite people right here with you! I guess people who grow up in the same town and live there always have that, right? Would I trade all my worldly travels for the intimacy of true real life friends? Oh, I don't know. Why can't I have both. Right here with me. I used to think it was great having friends everywhere because I love to travel and it means I could use it as an excuse to visit. But when you have 3 kids, a dog, a cat, college fibromyalgia,one paycheck, and a mortgage, well lets face it, travel is a luxury. I miss my friends. I have friends I have never ever met in real life due to the wonders that are the internets (I luv internets). But I crave to sit on my back porch and gossip about whatever it is people gossip about and have BBQs and go to the grocery store and do all those things so many take for granted. It really is the little things. That is where memories are made.