Whine Tour

O.K., the whine tour is over, as is the pity party. Maybe I have to sink that low to get my head out of my own ass. Blech, I was making myself nauseous with that last post, enough! I have not woken from a car accident to learn I’m a paraplegic, or a quadraplegic. I don’t have Lou Gehrig’s disease, my house is not in foreclosure, my proverbial dog hasn’t died.

I’m single. A lot of people are single. I’ve had cancer and stuff hurts, a lot of people have had cancer and lot’s of people have stuff that hurts. So I’m not the Prom Queen, well, I never was and really wouldn’t feel comfortable in those shoes. So I am done with Facebook and the pictures of people who’s parties seem so fun, and OKcupid can shoot it’s arrows wherever it pleases. I’m not going to keep pouring over self-summaries and sending witty, charming emails to people too lazy or apathetic to respond.

I live in a comfortable house in a comfortable neighborhood with my comfortable kids and comfortable friends. It’s not picture perfect, screw picture perfect. I’m a little upset that Frozen has dethroned Toy Story as the highest grossing animation, but I’m gonna let it go, let it go.

I have my boy’s last HS baseball season coming up. I’ll sit in a chair and enjoy the days, even if I can’t focus on the game, because after all these years, I still can’t focus on a baseball game. I’ll enjoy watching the comradery of the players that have been together for so long, swinging their swan songs. I’ll clean off my porch and spend evenings out there chatting with my guys and eating bowls of cherries and fresh peas in the pod. I’ll put a stack on singles out so whoever wants to can chase the ice cream truck at will.

I have a graduation coming up, a cum laude ceremony, much welcoming college mail to read, art supplies to buy for film sets, happy summer day camp pick up times. Graduation parties to plan, little dudes award ceremony at PPAC. The knowledge that even though I had to plan it, pay for it and clean up after it, oh, and need to get thank you notes for, little dude is still talking about how perfect and special his birthday was and how happy that makes him, cause yeah, he really does talk like that. He’s like his mama, we have big, descriptive hearts.

I’m going to launch my irresponsible plan to spend my Roth IRA on five years of twice yearly trips. It wouldn’t have made a dent in supporting me in my old age (and we’re still talking budget trips), but if I wind up experiencing old age, that will be gift enough and I’ll worry about how to survive then. Right now I want to do more than survive, I want to live and that means getting on a plane for an adventure twice a year with lot’s of smaller adventures in between. If you know anyone with a condo to loan, near a dive shop, anywhere, let me know.