TMI

Shame can turn to pride, I know this. I began the late fall in a new winter skirt that I fell mad in love with. Perfect weight, perfect length, loved the subtle pattern and for the first few week, I was a little self-conscious that I was wearing the same skirt everyday. I wasn’t feeling the transition to pants and couldn’t find any other winter skirts that measured up. So I kept wearing it and wearing it, always with clean socks, underwear and shirts. Always with my most comfortable sweater of which I own four, as they were $24.99 at Target, it’s hard to find sweaters with collars. My embarrassement, however has turned to pride as I realize I’ve made it through the whole winter wearing the same skirt. It’s getting a little worse for wear, but now it’s a challenge, although as soon as it’s above 60°, I vow to wear a different skirt every day for at least a week.

I’ve been back from Mexico for a month, and I’m still not acclimated. My daily life is missing something and it’s getting to me, my eye’s well up with tears at unexpected times, for reasons I don’t understand. My subconscious is having issues and I seem to be out of the loop. I’ve continued to find occasionally compelling, and humorous, intelligent profiles on-line, and have sent what I hoped were equally witty, intelligent responses, referencing whatever obscure book or movie we have in common. It’s demoraliing to not receive a single response.

I was thinking about it this morning and I realized that we’re primates, we’re animals, plain and simple, caling to other animales in the primitive ways in which we know how and we are likewise, responding as such, we are trying to display our bright plummage via the internet. Men often show pictures of themselves in their biking gear or on a boat, they’re consciously or not trying to tap into what they think women view as masculine and they’re probably on to something. Sadly, the female equivalent of that is more superficial and that would be a nice headshot with corresonding cleavage, even if only in a t-shirt, the cleavage, the alluring, primal breasts, complete the package and bait the hook. Unconsciously, the whispering breasts would lead them to the profile and that might lead them to interest. I don’t even mean this to sound derogatory, it’s the birds and the bees, there are some pictures I’m attracted to and some I’m not and there’s something intangible about what makes the difference. We are all using our photos, to lure people into reading our profiles which we hope will catch someone on the line, provoke a response. I can’t properly bait my hook. I know that if someone knew me really well, they would adjust to my missing physical attributes, but how do I get to that point? I’m saying this awkwardly with lack of profundity, I know, I’m having trouble orgnizing my thoughts, I’m tired, I just took a bunch of 13-year olds to lunch for a birthday celebration and then home for cake.

When I think of the time and effort it takes to get to know someone, to get comfortable with them, I’m overwhelmed and sad, because not only do I not have that time in the chaos of my day to day, I’m not having the opportunity. Adding insult to injury, i know that my ex is already years, at least three years into a relationship that landed in his lap, because that’s what happens when you’re a high wage earning man in a suit, in a big office building filled with women. Single women, or those looking to upgrade, they come to you and they did and all you have to do is be willing to upgrade too. He stopped by on the newly teened boy at exactly 5:30 on his birthday to deliver a gift. He clearly had somewhere to be, he seems much more committed to his new partner’s schedule as he ever was to ours. As has been the case since he left, he wasn’t interested in coming to or participating in the party, that’s all left up to me, he doesn't wonder who's coming and that's what blows my mind most. There is giggling downstairs, the kids are lingering, and I’m glad my boy is having a happy day. The planning of the party with him, the invites, the follow up, the tranportation and logistics, the footing the bill and cleaning up, the thank you notes, those are up to me with never an offer of assistance. I wonder how other split up couples handle these things, especially the "amicable" ones. I recently saved his father $500 on the summer camp bill by getting the film-maker successfully through a summer arts scholarship application, that was me doing the research, filling out endless forms and wrecking multiiple DVDs trying to burn animations onto them. Yet when I suggested he use some of the money to help pay for Griffin’s graduation party, he seemed perplexed, “well, what do you need?” Ummm, food? Does he not think this boy merits a graduation party? I've got the yard for it, we've had many fine parties here, but it's all up to me. He pays the court-ordered money, does his day a week and not another thought. It seems odd to me, but the whole thing has always been odd to me. I'd like to read a book about how divorced people handle these responsibilities, but I guess there's no norm. My lawyer explained that the courts can order me to give him more access to the kids (which they wouldn't need to do, I'm always offering), but they can't order him take more responsibility for the kids, can't make him take them more. So either way, he's still in the driver's seat. He gets what he wants, when he wants it, when it's convenient, and I'm responsible for the rest. I think the courts should order that both parents have to clean up after birthday parties and split the bill.

I have a lot of friends, close friends, amazing friends, but they’re disparate friends, I don’t have a group or a pack. I don’t have close family, extended or otherwise, I have people in far flung places that love me to death, I know that, I’m grateful as all get out for that, but I don’t have anyone who would notice if I went missing for the weekend. I don’t have someone I talk to every day or so, who I check in with or checks in with me. I don’t have a BFF, I’ve had them, I just don’t at the moment, I don’t have a book club or other reliable social activity. Consistent community, perhaps that’s what I want. I want a partner in crime who I don’t see all that often, because we’re both busy, but who can be on my mind, who I know is out there thinking of me and a simple daily text of “hi” would totally do it for me. I’m easy peasy, but it has to be someone awesome and thus far, I can’t seem to attract someone period, awesome or otherwise, and it’s starting to hurt, I feel the space where they should be, it’s becoming tangible. If I met someone, I don’t know at what point I’d tell them about the cancer and all that, all those things that make me high risk and complicated, I figured that’s the point my heart might break, but my heart is breaking because I don’t have the chance. I know I just need to get busy, keep building my own life, focus on that and my kids, but that’s what I’ve been doing for years and years and years in a marriage with someone who didn’t really want anything to do with me (or anyone else it seemed). Building a life by yourself is tiring, so is raising kids by yourself. I’m a partner person, where’s my partner? I like my life, but I would like it to have that dimension, that tether and I'm a damned nice partner to have.

72% match: I am waiting to meet a woman where I can walk hand in hand walk on the beach with where we can snuggle and cuddlewhere I can enjoy her kisses on a couch lovee slow dancing flea markets and tax sales and long car rides

I’ll be passing on that and nor will I be contacting “uncutrob” or “lovetoeatpuss” because even for me, that is way too much information.

Oh Ewe

I never thought I’d be excited about the Pope or following what the Pope is up to. Or that my kids and I would be chanting at the TV “pope, pope, pope” but you’ve got to love this pope. Well, we do anyway. I wonder though, how the heck he slipped under the radar, because this guy can’t be what the hierrarchy had in mind. He’s a clever pope, a stealthy pope, and I’m so glad he played his cards right and got Pope-ified. Radical pope, kind and genuine pope, I worry about his open air pope-mobile, I worry someone will shoot the pope. Pope ain’t no dope, or Pope is dope, depending on how you say it. obviously, pope is the word of the day since I started my day by seeing him and O on the front page of HuffPo, which I suppose makes it HuffPope until a new lead story comes along.

I’m not sure what I really think of myself, because on the one hand, I’m afraid of dating because I can’t imagine anyone would like me, or accept all my scars, both literal and figurative, but then when I send an email to someone on OKcupid and they don’t respond I think “dude, who do you think you are? you’ll never find anyone better than me, I'm awesome.” Insecure or arrogant, don’t know, or as they’d say on a dating site “you tell me.”

Several men have clicked “like” on my profile and yes, of course I feel 13-years-old talking about this, but when I click “like” back there is no response. I had a brief back and forth with someone and they admitted that they never contact anyone first, they wait for them. That’s kind of passive, or arrogant, or something. We emailed back and forth and I found myself decreasingly interested. His responses were not well written, maybe he was writing on a phone, not a keyboard, so I’ll give him that. But they didn’t reflect the “happy” person he described and I noticed that while he was (sort of) answering my questions, sort of responding to my repartee, he didn’t ask about me, or my thoughts and so one of us has quietly let the ball drop and roll away, I’m not even sure which. I'm hoping he doesn't email again, and suspect he won't.

Surprisingly, I’ve found several profiles that I find compelling and attractive, at least interesting and I’ve sent, short, charming emails. I think they'ew charming, “you tell me”. Well, I guess they have told me because I’ve not gotten a single response. I’ve been short and sweet, but always referenced something in their profile that I also liked or agreed with, usually something obscure as that’s what draws me in and nothing. So if on-line “dating” isn’t depressing enough, how about on-line dating where no one responds to a single thoughtful email? Nor a single legit inquiry or contact, my parade of Christian, right-wingers continues. In my last email I told the recipient that I’d really appreciate them responding, if only to tell me that they’re not interested, being new to this, I’d like to learn how to refine my approach. Nothing.

Equally amusing and depressing it remains, one guys screen nane is HelloGorgeousEwe. Does he realize he’s addressing goats or the inhabitants of southeast Ghana and southern Togo?

Then there are the bare chest shots. I think if you want to post your bare chest you have to have other pictures as well, it can’t be the one and only shot. The creepiest, absolute creepiest is having a 23 year-old “like” my picture. My reaction of absolute Ewwwwww (not Ewe), made me realize I’m not cut out to be a cougar and I don’t, absolutely don’t understand the Mrs. Robinson type. Just Eww. I love 23-year olds, I want to bake them cookies and hear about how school or their first job is going and not a single thing more.

From Denver: My name is Mr.xxx xxxxx, Sometimes i wonder what was in God's mind, to have created some people so special but i have come to realize that such people were actually created to change the lives of many..The basic realities of life does not solely depends on how often one smiles... I must confess that your profile struck me. i would love to know you, and better still, get acquainted.

From KewlMichael, a professed $250,000-$500,000 earner in NY: Wow you look very radiant like the morning sky,i really appreciate God for a wonderful creature like you.you are like a gift from God , seeing you has really made me to forget to ask how u are doing. Well let me not be carried away by your beauty, I must tell you the truth you are among the wonders of God's creature will be very glad if i can get to know you more better.Meeting with you will be my first joy, please it will gladden my heart by giving me a response. please do include your email address when reply so we could start by chatting...You are beautiful, Cheers up till i hear from you

Then there’s HotJoeyLove and NeedingADarling, this could drive a girl to drink, join the foreign service or just maybe, accept and embrace life as is. I tried the drinking part last night, it was pretty fun, we'll see which way things go.

Parade

It seems unfair to be having allergies when I’ve not felt a smidge of spring, nonetheless, my eyeballs are so itchy I’m ready to claw them out. I knew this Medicaid thing was too good to be true, they don't want to pay for my expensive allergy eyedrops, nor do they want to pay for my estrogen. It costs $167/mo. which is too steep for me, but I want the natural one, not the one made from horse urine, Premarin: PREgnant MARes, Ewwww. I'm scared to find out what creepy, alternative they'll offer me, betcha they cover Viagra though. At the moment I think my itchy eyes are far more deserving of intervention than anyones flaccid penis, but maybe that's just because I don't have one of those to worry about.

I really don’t know why I feel so dismal, so blue. It’s not like the divorce took me by surprise, we’ve been separated for three years and it changes my day to day life not a whit. Maybe it was the humiliation of the proceedings, immediately finding out he was taking a weeks vacation with his girlfriend, when in twenty years he couldn’t possibly take a whole week off work and responded to suggestions of travel like a child would at the suggestion of a seven day school week or extra visits to the dentist, just for fun. I don't know, I really don't.

One of the parents of one of the tall one’s friends invited a bunch of the loose, but bound group of parents over for a get together yesterday. So many of our kids have been friends since pre-school, elementary or middle school that we’ve come to know one other and, of course, know so much about, and care so for each other's offspring. We chat at school events, athletic events where some overlap, when we run into each other at the market or elsewhere and as 10, 12, 14 years go by, you inadvertently know each other, but don't know if you'd call each other friends, but without a doubt, there is surely a bond and I like these people. It was a lovely idea to get everyone together on purpose. I almost didn’t go I was in such a miserable mood, but I knew it would be good for me and hopefully snap the spell which it did, somewhat, but I never felt like myself. I found myself welling up with tears behind my glasses and not even knowing why. I know nothing is what it seems, but in a very full room, I’m the only one sans partner and it’s hard not to feel envious of the comfort and seamlessness of all these long marriages. I wonder, I fear, that I’ve simply reached capacity and am now overflowing in unpredictable ways. I fear that I’m finally broken. I’ve been damned good at bouncing back, but maybe we can only do that a finite number of times. I’ve been bouncing back my whole life, yay for me, I’m resilient, I have a relentless desire to move forward and not wallow, but  bouncy balls wear out, they can only take so much wear and tear. I’m feeling deflated and without an airpump.

This grim venture into online dating isn’t making things better. The parade of book burning conservatives continues from near and far, did I mention the general? Full on uniform, yeah, that's an obvious match. I don’t see any reason to start emailing someone far flung, what’s the point? I don’t want to dig email trenches, I want to just meet for coffee and yay or nay. I’ve not gotten a single inquiry or response from anyone intriguing, not even close, and the whole thing is depressing. All the lookn4luv, TreatU-Rite, Meandyou4ever, Luverman, I just hang my head in unfair disgust, these people are just lonely too. These sights make me snarky and cynical and Match.com is the awful. The profiles are sparse enough to be meaningless, checkboxes over personal comments and an excessive number of users who don’t post pictures. Sorry, but if I have to post a picture, so do you and a beach sunset doesn’t count. Okcupid has a far superior user interface and asks interesting questions with room for comments but the questions are endless. You answer as many as you want, but some people have anwered 3,000+ questions which is sad and disturbing. Match.com has local get togethers at bars and such, but I’d be mortified to be the only one there over 30.

I’m slowly learning how after so many years of cohabitation and children, I’ve lost the ability to be alone for long stretches. I remember fearing I wouldn’t be able to do the 24/7 that is raising kids because I needed so much time alone. My kids get me out of my own head, or my head out of my own ass, whichever. As soon as they walked in the door Sunday evening, I was transformed. I’m realizing that I’m as dependant on them as they are on me. Albeit in my case it’s emotional dependency. I ask nothing of them, I’m just happier and more content and more able to lighten up and laugh when they’re around and that too will be fleeting.

It’s a new week, so I’d best get at it and try for a better one. This is the week I get focused at work and begin the grand project of rebuilding my wholesale business and also the week I go back to the gym in search of stregnth and endorphins. On Friday, my baby turns 13 so I’ve got to think about how to make that special too.

Misanthrope

Damn, My laughing fix didn’t stick, I’m lethargic and blue, except for my left eye which is pink and itchy, so maybe I’m just germy and not feeling well.

While I was cheered up, my wicked nails didn’t suit me and I thought it would be best for all if I stopped hissing at people, so I bought what I thought was silver sparkle polish which I mixed with clear, because I thought if I added a subtle silver glitter I’d be a good witch instead of a bad witch.

My experience with nail polish is new and limited, so it turns out, what I used was gold glitter with some big flakes of silver, which mixed with the red/black, looks like I spray painted on some tropical fungus. I’d call this color iguana spit, gator slime, or unknown fungal disease. It’s not making me happy, not helping my mood.

I was so tired when I came home from work I went to bed and fell asleep for five hours, when I woke up the sun was going down and I was confused, I thought it was coming up and I’d slept through the night which I kind of wish I had.

I don’t think the foray into on-line dating was a good idea. I’ve made great progress breaking my Facebook and Huffington Post habits, but OK Cupid is a black hole and while fascinating, I think I already want out. I’ve actually read a few profiles that have interested me. I can tell that these people have seen my profile, but they don’t seem interested. I’ve sent two brief emails, but have had no response. It seems I solely appeal to Christians with poor grammar. I think this whole think could suck up a lot of time, drive me crazy and make me feel bad, so nipping it in the bud, might be the way to go.

From Catholic, and it’s important to me from Alabama: WOW!! Your stunningly cute.. Had my eyes glued to your picture that it took a while a to recover from that.. Would you do me the honor of getting to know you? That would make me the happiest man on the planet.

From Gud2Me: Hi Angel, I'm very I'm interested in your profile and will like us to know each other, pls kindly drop me ur email or contact so I can send you more pictures of me,

Very serious christian from FLA: Hi there,How are you doing beautiful and how is the weather there like???

That’s right, how is the weather there like?

Starting monday, I’m going to the gym and going to work. I have to get focused and get serious about income production. Gonna enjoy my boys, rejoice when my rocking chair can go back out on the porch, ponder scuba diving opportunities over dating, Cupid’s just going to have to wait. I’ve seen a glimpse into a world, I don’t think I want to know about. It’s making me sad and depressed and I think the best thing is to be happy with what I have, because ultimately, I have a lot.

Belly Laugh

Yesterday, I was in a foul mood, been in that mood all week, bubble, bubble, toil and trouble. I just don’t feel like myself and my wicked nails are making it worse because they really do make me want to hiss and claw at something, but I was embracing that feeling and making myself more and more miserable.

I was spinning down the vortex until last night at bed time, the prince of procrastination set up a prank for my benefit that caused me to immediately burst out into uncontrollable laughter, and laughter and laughter until it hurt. I hugged him and said “thank you, I feel like a new person” and I did, I do. The tall one, downstairs while all of this happened up, was jealous that his brother had made me laugh so hard, so he insisted I come downstairs so he could show me a funny video. Oh my, they’re fighting over me, I do declare.

Despite my indepth okcupid profile, which as you can imagine, answers every question regarding religion and civil liberties and political/social beliefs in a particular and clear way, everyone that contacts me defines as “christian and it’s important to me” and references their god as one of the five things they can’t live without. I can’t live without tea in the morning and Jon Stewart, come on. Why on earth would those people contact me. Do they contcact every new female that pops up? And I’m sorry, I’m a grammar snob, errors are fine, I type fast and certainly someone could judge me for my frequent lack of capital letters, but oh my god!

So much of the dialog is straight from a bad movie, from a christian in Texas: Hello there pretty ,it's been a lovely day today,and what makes it a perfect day for is that seeing such a beautiful woman like you and being privileged to email her,WOW! what a day. Well,my name is John,I'm just a starter on this online dating I would like to talk and get to know more about you. If you don't mind you can send me a message on john280 at/ya/hoo/dot/com/,I hope you have a wonderful day, John.

And from the guy in New York, with a small child, yet who would be willing to relocate for the "right special lady" wearing a giant gold cross in every picture: How are you doing?My name is Wilson .Your profile is appealing..I adore and admired everything in your profile.I am really much impressed about your profile and your personalities and your good sense of humor on here. You definitely got your appearance so attracting and appealing. I guess nobody is going to skip your profile without sending you a message. I can see sincerity in you. You look far younger than your age. Is what you have on this site a correct statement of your age? When was your photo taking?Do you mind if i know more about you?

Both of these guys only list English as languages, but I just can’t believe that the last one isn’t ESL. I love that he questions my pictures. I posted two pictures, one is of me underwater with the pufferfish and the other is from Mexico a few weeks ago smooshing faces with my friend. So I cropped him out and if you look closely, you’ll see that one of my ears, is really his ear. I need to get some photos. It was a really spontaneous, after midnight sign up on my part.

I don’t know how this works, do I have to respond to these people and say “thank you for the very sweet compliments, but I don’t think we’d be a good match”? Or just ignore them because they clearly haven’t read my profile. This morning there was a really charming note from a 63 year old and I’m just not ready to go that old, isn’t that terrible? At the same time, the same difference in the other direction would be 37 and that seems even more preposterous. I am 50 and I put an age range of 45 to 55 and honestly, I’m not sure I could keep up with a 45 year old.

Then there are the myriad people that say they’re only interested in women who are fit and would not be interested in anyone that deviates from their preferred body type. One thing I’m certain of is that I’m not anyone’s preferred body type, so that’s just depressing.

But I’m not depressed, because little dude cured me with a belly laugh, a ten minute long, I can’t breathe, I’m going to die belly laugh. And that’s why I need a partner, or a regular date, someone who can make me laugh and will give me a hug and break those bad moods, it just takes too much effort to do it on my own.

Are You Stupid Cupid?

My wicked nails are making me feel vicious. I want to claw and screetch like a feral cat or one of Lada Gaga’s little monsters. Color is important, color once kept me from the brink. When the worst thing that ever happened to me happened, my emotions were tangible. I had a molten, fiery, howling mass that put me closer to the chasm than I’d ever been. I was hyper, I think because if I stopped moving, a part of me knew it would take root and I’d literally die, or turn to stone or wouldn't be able to stop screaming, ever, and I'd already done my share of screaming. I do think that people can die of grief. I don’t like loss, and now I live too much in fear of it. Without knowing what I was doing, I sought color. I was up into the wee hours painting rooms bright and cheery colors, I took up quilting and was manically shopping fabric stores and flipping through quilting books and laying out patterns on the floor. Maybe when things get really bad, our subconscious takes over, or will to live kicks in, that primal will and does what it needs to do and deep down inside, what ever a soul is, my soul needs color, is affected by color. Color is something you can’t fake.

Maybe I’ve made a pessimistic choice with these new nails, these metaphorical nails, but damn, this is how I feel, any other color would feel false and I’d rip them off. Tread upon, pissed, defensive, foresaken by my adopted home, my state, who’s flag I’ve rolled up and put in a drawer. There are female politicians at the state house, fighting for paid maternity leave, which is well and good, but equals a few months pay out of one’s life, who’s fighting the real fight, that affects women’s income for the rest of their lives? Don’t even get me going on the Social Security rules.

I went for lymphedema therapy this morning and my therapist asked how I was and I hissed at her and showed her my claws and she said, “oh yeah, you’re so scary.” People who don’t know me often find me scary, something I’ve never understood, but people who know me, surely don’t. Annoying perhaps, scary, not so much.

Last night I finally did it. I filled out an okcupid profile and in under 24-hours, I’ve learned a lot. There is a species of man, I’d rather know nothing more about that will send a generic email starting with “hello angel”, or “hey gorgeous lady”. I’m all for terms of endearment, I long for terms of endearment, but I feel those need to be formed based on the individual person and relationship involved. There are profiles where men refer repeatedly to “ladies” not “women”. I too use the word lady at times, but there’s something condescending about the use here. Oh, I’m such a nitpicker.

Okcupid asks question after question, most are too black and white to answer adequately, such as are you serious or carefree, I’d say I’m a mixture of both at different times, but neither word adequately defines me, or really, anyone else. Life is complicated, we’re talking divorced dads here, you’d have to be an idiot or in denial to be solely carefree and serious, is, well, too seriousl. Some questions are relevant. Do you think evolution or creationism should be taught in school or both? Do you think abortion should be legal? Which is worse, burning the flag of your country or books? Those are just no brainers for me. I’ve never burnt a flag, but I’d say that burning a flag is a form of protest and that flags are merely symbolic, where burning a book is intolerant, ignorant and fearful. While an athiest, I’m not opposed to anyone that goes to church, that signifies to me that they may be community-oriented, or nostalgic about their upbringing, but I’m suspicious of people that define themselves as simply “christian”, and if they define themselves as “christian and it’s very important to me” well then if you’ve read my profile, you know that we are basically incompatible. I have christians in my life that I know, love and respect, but yeah, they’re the minority. Therefore, I’ve only heard from men who are christians, don’t like to talk about politics, and are looking for that “special lady”. One was a gun-toting, christian from Kentucky who does not take kindly to flag burning, and is “socially conservative”, what the fuck? I also learned that most men don't like "overly logical people", shucks, they don't bother me none.

I know, give it time, but it makes me feel so snarky, I don’t know, maybe it’s the Wicked. I sent two brief messages, one said “I really like that movie too”, it’s a movie that I love and I’ve lately discovered is most definitely not universally beloved and another said “I’m a local artisan too, and also have a gallery, albeit teeny tiny, where I sell other people’s work”. Haven’t heard from either of them. Although, deep down, I don’t really want to, I’m not over the ick factor in all of this yet.

I want someone to just walk in my door, kiss me three times on the lips, because I’m OCD about that, kisses come in threes, turn around and leave. That’s really all I want for now, to get me through the next few weeks or months. I need something unexpected, surprising, sweet. Something to make me want to wash off this wicked and go back to my blue sky days.

I got a beautiful, happy thing in the mail yesterday, something I really wanted, but it just doesn’t have me walking on air the way it should. I had the little doodling, movie maker apply for a summer arts scholarship from the Providence Performing Arts Center, our swanky downtown theater, to help pay for summer arts camp and his beloved program was on the list of acceptable possibilities. Many pages to fill out and after several tries, we successfully burned a DVD of three animations and sent it in. Yesterday he got a letter, the letter I wanted more for the confidence, self-esteem boost than the money, that he’d won a scholarship. There’s going to be presentation ceremony at the theater, I hope he’ll be excited by that. It says to invite all your friends to come watch, I’m going to, because he feels a connection to many of my friends and I think they’ll be happy to cheer my sweet thing on and I don’t ask for much. He’s so, so used to his brother winning things, it’s about time he gets a fancy certificate of his own. He doesn’t know yet because yesterday night he was at his dads, hence the wits end, ok cupid foray.

We have a nice after school afternoon planned, starting with a visit to our favorite Corgi and then an exhibit downtown of prints made by one of his fairy-art parents. I hope it’s a fine adventure, I need the black veil to lift, I need to get through a day without going back to bed.

Wicked

Thus far, and it's only Wednesday, it’s been a week of a thousand small cuts, paper cuts, pin pricks. On Monday I got divorced, baked muffins and cooked dinner. Tuesday morning I spent an hour and a half waiting for my car to be serviced. No complaints there, I take my Toyota to the luxe dealer with the clean, comfortable waiting area for service, and as I’m still under warranty, it’s free and painless. I had my laptop with me and got a lot of work done. I can tolerate that Kelly and Michael in the background but when Kathie Lee and her partner-on-crime come on, it’s just hurts my whole self, my head, my soul, I just don’t understand how people can watch these two. Inane, annoying, screetchy, they are a parody of what some people think women should be, I just don’t get it. But hey, they’re a hell of a lot more popular than I am, and better paid too, so who am I to talk? I find them offensive. Offensively stupid, offensively trite, offensively coiffed, but again, who am I?

I drove back to town in my ship-shape automobile and felt so, so tired. I almost went for a manicure, because my beloved blue, blue, blue sky day, light blue nails were driving me crazy, I felt as though they no longer represented my mood, myself, my anything. Colors are important, I drove by the nail salon, but didn’t even have the energy to go in, I just wanted to sleep, so I crawled back into bed at 11:30 and slept until school pick up time at 2:30. I could have slept all day. Little boy thinks I should dye my hair pink again, "be pinkalicious," but I'm not feeling it.

This morning I started the day by slitting my index finger open, not a deep wound, but one of those awful, horizontal flappy cuts that was just deep enough. I had three antique bell jars on my dining room table that I light votives in. They looked a bit dusty so I lifted them up with a finger in each and placed them in my other hand to carry, not realizing that one had broken, until it bit me, slit me. I was met with an inability to coagulate which after fearing I had leukemia or some other dreadful thing that keeps you from clotting, I realized that I’ve added baby aspirin to my daily handful of supplements which interferes with coagulation. I could only get it to stop bleeding temporarily with a bandaid with a snug rubber band around it, which got me to school and back, but I bled profusely for three hours, yuck.

I had an appointment scheduled with my primary care doctor at 10:30, to test drive my new health insurance, so I bled on over and she didn’t think I needed stitches, which is good cause she doesn't do stitches, she said to keep pressure on it until it finally stopped, which thanks to tighter bandaid, it has. I went to the doctor primarily to load up on prescriptions, because Medicaid pays for certain over-the-counter meds. I can fill scripts for Claritin, Pseudoephedrine, expensive allergy eye drops, ibuprofin, and I am in need of goody bag items. I’m a taker not a maker and I’m getting over my discomfort with this Medicaid thing. I have paid taxes my whole life, well until this year because I’m too poor, god knows my exhorbitant property taxes don’t get me much, our public schools suck, my street doesn’t get plowed and Providence is one giant pothole, so I’m loading up my goody bag with free drugs, you just never freaking know when you might need a decongestant. I went in with a list, but I forgot the vitamins, vitamin D was on the approved list, I’ll have to go back for more because for once in my life I don’t have a co-payment. I do thoroughly believe there should be universal insurance for all, socialist scum that I am. There’s something perverse about my ability to get quality insurance, only because I can’t afford it. For the first time ever, the benefits booklet is readable and clear and people call me to make sure I understand everything and encourage me to take advantage of my benefits, and when I call with a question, someone answers. Way to go Federal Government. Thank you Affordable Care Act, fuck you self-serving, stingy, war-mongering, weapons instead of social services spending Republicans.

I asked the doc to peek in my ears to confirm they are fine and dandy despite the diving, yet passed on the opportunity to have a bone density scan or my cholesterol checked, I’m just over medical tests. Over. I can’t really make any more lifestyle changes, so if my cholesterol is high and my bones aren’t dense, so be it, least of my worries. After that I went to the studio but didn’t do any work, not a spec, just couldn’t clear my head. I checked my email, and my ex’s response to me letting him know I wanted to go away the first week of August off was to let me know that he was going away the first week of August. So I finally went for my mani/pedi which was only a pedi and a polish change because I can’t bend my index finger. I was aiming for dark, sparkly gray to suit my mood, but it wasn’t dark enough, and I'm not feeling sparkly, so I went with “wicked” which is a red/black. Black with an sinister red hue, perfect. Look out, something wicked this way comes and it’s me. My wicked self walked up to the kitchen store with my saran wrapped toes and bought a teapot with infuser, larger than the one I have now which is perfect, and then on the way out, saw matching little cups a la chinese restaurant, so I got those too for a proper tea party, if only with myself. A wicked tea party. Hello goody-bag.