Welcome to my Life

Dear Brian,
Let’s be honest, we have a rocking physical relationship. I’m pretty sure the word no has only been uttered once or twice. It isn’t wild and kinky (ok, it isn’t kinky to the point it would scare others) but it’s not mundane and boring.
With that in mind, I feel confident I can bring this up to you and you’ll be game. I want to change things up for us. I really would like to try something new.
For right now, you won’t see me naked. Oh that doesn’t mean I won’t get naked. You just won’t be seeing it. See, it’s not a surprise that this horrendous weight gain has me feeling a whole lot more than self conscious about my body. Hell, I don’t even look at myself in the mirror naked.
So, until I lose some of this weight, we’re going to have to meet in the middle. The middle of the bed, buried under the covers, lights off. I’m willing to be naked, I’m just not willing to let you see it. Not right now.
I know, you have never once complained and compared to where I was 3 years ago, this is a huge improvement that you are glad to see. Me? Not so much. I appreciate that you try to make me feel better about it, but I can’t feel good about it. I appreciate that you understand what this is doing to me and you’re not ripping on me about it.
But for now, until I can get the South 40 to look less like an actual South 40, it’s going to have to be lights off for us. I hope you understand.

Of course it is never my intention to offend anyone, but I somehow manage to do it without even trying.  Especially when I discuss controversial topics.  But I guess that comes with the topic, not everyone will agree.  Please, just don’t take this personally, it’s just me spouting an opinion.

Good, not that I’ve got that disclaimer out of the way….

On the AM talk radio show I listen to on my way to work, they were discussing the military’s Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy.  A man called in to voice his opinion on gays in the military.  He said that in the military they are trained to function as a unit.  Every man (person) covering everyone else to protect everyone in the unit to the best of their ability, especially in a combat situation.  He went on to say “I don’t want to be in a combat unit where one guy is going to protect some guys better than others just because he’s attracted to them.”

At that point I decided that person was a total idiot.  Why? (this list is in it’s simplest form.  I understand on many levels the military is different than any other job, but doesn’t there have to be some basic level of rules/regulations that apply to every employer/job?)

• In it’s simplest forms, the military is just like any other job. It’s just that, a job.
• I don’t know of any other job where sexual preference can get you fired.  That sounds a whole lot like discrimination.
• In a combat situation I find it truly hard to believe that with the enemy attacking you your mind will be on who’s got the cutest ass, and who you’d like to bunk with.  I  mean, I can not remember a time ever in my life when I was in a stressful situation and all I could think about was sex.
• What if the roles were reversed?  What if it was a woman in the unit?  Wouldn’t he be just as concerned that she couldn’t do the job as well for the same reason?  She was too busy focusing on which guy she was going to get naked with later?
• Or, would a  man protect her more because he was attracted to her, or less because she had turned him down.

I guess I just kind of want to know, why does sexual orientation, sexual gender, sexual preference have to come into play here.

Equal rights for all; Special privileges for none                ~Thomas Jefferson

That doesn’t just apply to gays in the military. It applies for everyone.  We should all have the same rights, live by the same rules.  The Declaration of Independence says

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

When did we lose sight of that?  When did we forget that?

I had a conversation with my brother who is a member of the military (AIM HIGH) about this. He told me there are many levels about this policy that he is not at liberty to talk about.  I believe that. But at it’s basic core, I think it’s wrong.

My girl Sudie over at Mussings of a chick part deux, wrote about her younger drunker days. And it triggered a trip down shameful embarrassing lane for me.

The first time I ever got drunk I was in high school.  I’m pretty sure the statutes of limitations has expired on this. Besides, I won’t name names and I’m too old to be grounded at this point in my life.   I spent the night at a girlfriend’s house and we were each provided with a bottle of wine.  Of course it was cheap wine, we were in high school and still pretty much gainfully unemployed.  I don’t remember much of that night, more from the passage of time than from the consumption of alcohol.  I do remember that we each drank our entire bottle, and while most of us were having fun, there was one of us who was still semi sober and tired of dealing with a bunch of drunk high school girls.  After the wine was gone, the beer came out and that was my first drunken mistake of many many drunken mistakes in my life.

In college there were the typical drunken parties.  I went to my first class of my freshman year hung over from screwdrivers.  I managed to make it through college without any black outs or hang overs.  Don’t ask my how. But because of that I thought I was damn good at drinking and pretty much invincible.

My problem became I didn’t know when to stop.  I didn’t realize that it took a while for the alcohol to effect you.  And I thought that if I stopped drinking I would instantly sober up,, so I had to keep drinking to stay buzzed/drunk.  I wasn’t as good at this as I thought, but at the time i didn’t know it.  And being drunk let my inner party girl/slut out.  I could flirt with every guy there and tell them to ignore my boyfriend at the time because he didn’t care about me anyway.

My first black out was at a birthday party for one of Slug’s co-workers.  Unfortunately my mom was there too and I was chugging beers as fast as I could throw them back.  An hour into the party I was already slurring my words and refusing to listen to anyone who was telling me to slow down or stop.  I was having a great time.  As soon as the beer was gone, someone started making buttery nipples and I had to try one.  They tasted wonderful, and I couldn’t taste the alcohol. I don’t even remember  how many I had.

I slept on the living room floor that night because there was no way I was sleeping in the waterbed. To this day I vaguely remember Slug trying to have sex with me, and thinking whatever, I’m going to sleep.  I don’t remember if he did or not. The next moring was my first real hangover and my first trip to worship at the porcelain alter.

I thought I was just bad at it and that with more practice I could drink without the hangover.  I practiced quite a bit with Slug’s younger brother, who’s drink of choice was Jack ‘n’ Coke.   While he was drinking JACK ‘n’ coke, I was drinking jack ‘n’ COKE.  But the more we drank the more Jack was in my drink.  I got damn good at it.  Or so I thought.

At Slug’s cousin’s wedding I went on an empty stomach (I had an empty stomach most of the time, hello anorexia) and I brought a six pack of Smirnoff Ice, drank 4 and honestly was done drinking.  For once I was being smart.  Until Slug’s brother showed up with Jack and we didn’t even mess around with the Coke.

That night I wanted to die.  The next die I wish I had.

Last Christmas at a company Christmas party, I started with Jagermeister because I wanted to be one of the girls I couldn’t be at work.   I knew as soon as it hit my stomach I should stop right there.  But there were margaritas to be drank, and shots of Patrone and I spent the whole drive home with my jaws clinched to avoid throwing up.  I made it all the way home before it all came back up, several times that night.  I wish I could have passed out or blacked out because there was no way I wanted to remember that night.  Unfortunately if I had been lucky enough to not remember that night, there was enough people at work who did and never missed an opportunity to remind me of things I did or said.  Even a year later, it’s still the talk of the dealership.  Not one of my shining moments.

I’ve had horrible manic episodes while drunk.  Wanting to run or drive or just be someone where else.  This need to no longer be me, to be here, to be in this moment.

At 41 I’ve learned that my limit is one, unless I’ve had plenty to eat, and then maybe two but there has to be at least 20 minutes between them, and by then I usually don’t want a second.  Yes I was an ugly drunk.  Yes I was terrible at it. Yes I take responsibility for my actions but I can also say some of my inability to stop was due to the rush and the high the euphoria I could attain which was similar to a manic high, although I didn’t know it at the time.   I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of, I’m sure there are more things I don’t even remember.  I’ve made a promise to myself that I will never drink to oblivion again.  It’s embarrassing to wake up the next morning and realize that the person you love just witnessed you at your absolute most embarrassing humiliating worse, and be engulfed in shame.  I won’t ever put Brian through that again.

I have been on a sort of life imposed sabbatical from here.  It seems that my life off line has taken me away from my life on line.  That’s the way it should be, but damn it’s not nearly as fun in the real world as it is here.

So while I’ve been gone, I’ve gone to work, made some money, paid some bills, bought some food, did some laundry, cleaned a house.  I may or  may not have gotten my buzz on from the fumes from whatever that wicked stuff is that the painters are using to seal the newly painted floors. Yes, we paint our floors, I think the fumes got to them a loooong time ago to make them think painting floors is a good idea. I mean, we’re just going to walk on them and get them dirty and shit, so it’s actually kind of pointless to paint them. Although they do look really nice when the paint is new, before we walk all over them tracking mud and oil across the floor. Stupid painters.  Like I said, comes from painting the floors and inhaling fumes all day. Oh and in the altered state I may or may not have been in I may or may not have told the painters in the showroom that they missed a spot and that they were doing it wrong and maybe if they would just give me a paintbrush I could show them the correct way to paint a wall.  After all Brian used to manage a paint store, so I should know how to paint because after all, I used to hang out there on Saturdays when he had to work.  But the painters wouldn’t let me have a brush, and I think they had been affected by their paint fumes too,  I wonder if who ever is paying them knows that he is paying a paint crew who is high all day long?  Oh well, not my money. And I don’t care if the stripes are straight, I tried to help, they wouldn’t let me.  Again, not my problem.

And while I was out doing a wee bit of shopping I happened across a great shoe sale and of course shoe stores are like my crack houses, so of course the force of the universe and the draw of incredibly tall stilletos and super slutty shoes sucked me in like a tractor beam on a spaceship.  Except there were no aliens in the crack house shoe store, which is a good thing.  If there had been aliens they would have scared the crap out of me and I would have sneaked back out of the store and missed out on an incredibly awesome shoe sale..  Luckily there were no aliens, just rows and rows of glorious shoes.  Then I saw them, my Mecca.  The clearance racks.  Gloriously slutty shoes on sale, and marked down from that and practically giving them away.  Of course when I got back there to check them out I could see why they were practically giving them away, y’all there were dayum fuggly shoes on those racks.  I figured in the next day or two they would have to be be having a Buy one really cool pair of shoes and we’ll throw in a pair of these god awful nobody will ever wear, we don’t know why we have them shoes to take home so your dog can chew on them and leave your good shoes alone sale.  And when they can’t get rid of them that way they may have to start paying people to take them or give them to a homeless shelter because you know homeless people need shoes too and they don’t care how ugly they are or that they don’t match their outfit.  Although I would think that stilettos might be uncomfortable for walking the streets in the winter.  Or maybe not, hookers do it all the time. I’m not sure we have any hookers around here.  Maybe we do, and they only come out at night, like lightening bugs, and I just never see them.

Oh, back to the crack house, shoe store. I did find a really cute pair of stilettos, although they are not the Jessica Simpson variety.  These are of the Steve Madden persuasion. I tried to find a picture of them, but yeah, there’s a reason they were on sale, they are so 30 minutes ago, ok, maybe so last year.  At least last season. Anyway they’re black, and strapy and really super slutty, or possibly like ballerina shoes, of the sluty variety.   On clearance from a clearance price and badda bing, those bitches were mine.

Then because Brian is a glutton for punishment, or all those years in the paint store smelling those fumes has somehow altered his logic gene, he decided he needed a pair of shoes.  I warned him he would look ridiculous in a pair of stilettos and I wasn’t sure he could even walk in them, let alone stand in them all day, but if he wanted a pair I would be happy, if not a little weirded out, to help him find a pair.  He looked at me like I’d lost my mind, and said he wanted a pair of tennis shoes. Oh well, if he wanted tennis shoes he was on his own for those because I think they are boring.  So off we went to yet another crack house shoe store.  We walked into another Mecca and I was in my zone.  I walked the isles in a crack shoe induced haze and there they were.  A gorgeous pair of black pumps with reasonable (read 3 inch) heals.  I mean with all the paint fumes and jack hammering and dust and broken tiles around work from the remodel, sometimes it’s smart be a little bit closer to the ground.  When I showed Brian he looked at me and said “You’ve got 5 pair at home just like those” which shows exactly how little he knows about shoes and that’s why he only gets to look at tennis shoes.  Of course these are not like any I have at home.  At home I have black stilettos from Jessica Simpson, I have Sam and Libby slingbacks, I have black pumps with wood heals, I have black peep toe pumps with a cute flower on them, I have little stappy shows with a kitten heal.  These are not at all like anything I have at home.  But since he didn’t find any shoes there, and promised another shoe store, I left them on the shelf.  He failed to mention the next shoe store was just a shoe store, not a crack house, in a sporting goods store.  They don’t have cute shoes there.  Just tennis shoes and hiking boots. UGH.

You do know what new shoes mean right?  New clothes, or at least a new outfit to wear the shoes with.  I’m leaving Brian home for that. He’ll have me shopping at Bass Pro Shop.

November, we moved into a new-to-us house. It was not new, not by 30 years. It was not perfect. It never will be. When we moved in, it wasn’t even clean. The girls were afraid to touch anything in the house.

But I saw the potential under all the ick that had been left behind by the previous residents. I saw what this house could be, with a whole lot of elbow grease, eleventy billion cleaning products, a little bit of paint and a sand blaster. Although, nothing could help the helplessly out of date, older than my grandmother, way past over due for a make-over (Hello, Ty Pennington!) kitchen. It looks straight out of the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s.

Once I scrubbed, cussed, and built altars and made sacrifices to the cleaning gods, it started to look less like an on-it’s-last-leg house and more like a cute comfortable home. In fact, the girls were becoming less and less afraid to touch things. Although the bath with no shower was an issue for a while….

Our furniture is garage sale chic. Look, I’m not rich, not even close. I live pay check to 2 days shy of the next paycheck. I make too much for food stamps and government assistance although I could use the help. It also would help if I got the child support I am supposed to get. But that is a different post entirely. I have actually bought very little of what is in my house.

Yes, there is a point. Ok, maybe not a point, but there is a story here.

The girls never got around to unpacking and putting away their things when they moved in. I am pretty sure they just took the boxes of their things, dumped them in the middle of the floor and called it moved in.

A coat, thrown on the floor, and a gift bag from Christmas, who knows what else, but all piled on the floor by the dresser.

Clothes piled on top of the dresser instead of put away in the dresser.

So much stuff crammed into dresser drawers they can’t even clothes and have apparently spilled over onto the floor.

The cabinet they keep their games in became the cabinet they kept everything in, on. Notice the empty water bottle? Yeah, they “were going to use it again”. I said NO.

For Christmas Brian’s mom gave them bed-in-a-bag sets that coordinate with each other. The sheets are in the picture above.

So, this past weekend we stayed at our house instead of spending it at Brian’s. We ended up spending 5 hours in that room. They cleaned it, I just supervised. First take everything out of the room. Rearrange some furniture and vacuum the floor. I bought some things to help organize this mess. Oh, and while they weren’t looking, I threw away a whole of trash.

The finished product?

I added shelves, one for each girl. I bought pink boxes for Newt, and green boxes for Tate.

I bought little drawers for pens and pencils what whatever they needed for their desks.

Cleaned off the dresser, and moved it into a alcove built into their room. More bins for their stuff, and hung some pictures.

Hung curtains to match the stripped comforter and then played a game with them. Standing in the middle of the floor where all their stuff was piled, I told them, pick up one thing. I don’t care what, just one thing. Then decide is it a throw away or put away thing. Either throw it away or put it away, but if your hand is on it, you deal with it.

By dinner time everything had been thrown away or put away and the floor was clean, and they were in love with their new room.

And I hope they keep it clean.

The big news around here yesterday was Mark McGwire’s admission that yes he did use steroids during the 1998 season.  That was the home-run race with Sammy Sosa season.

“The only reason I took steroids was for my health purposes. I did not take steroids to get any gain for any strength purposes”

And that’s the kicker for me.  He finally comes clean, something he wouldn’t do in the congressional hearing.  Finally admits to something everyone suspected all along, and he quantifies it.  He says ‘Yes, but…”

I guess the why doesn’t matter as much to me, I mean, come on, isn’t it obvious why professional athletes take performance enhancing drugs?  Uh, to enhance performance?

To me it sounds as if he will admit to it because he has to, to come clean, but he still felt the need to defend his ability.  Yes I did them but they didn’t enhance my performance.

I guess what irks me the most about this is, we all suspected, and if he had just come clean about it then, or even at the Congressional Hearings, we would have forgiven him.  A-Rod admitted to it, and while the act was wrong, he is due some respect for his honesty.  And once he admitted to it, the story blew over.  This has been hanging over McGwire’s head for 11 years now.

There will always be people out there who believe his home-run record is tainted and therefore not a valid record. I understand that sentiment, I get it. The thing is, he can’t unhit the home-runs.  You can’t go back and replay those games. And you can’t prove which games he was juiced up and which ones he wasn’t, and you can’t prove which home-runs were because of the steroids, and which ones were truly home-runs.

At the same time MLB was changing the composition of their balls. Some could say that the juiced up athletes were doing the same.  The length of some of the fields was shortened. There are other variables that factor into the equation and who’s to say how much those changes affected the outcome?

In the end, Mark fell just short of the mark.  He had his chance at the Congressional hearing, and we waited with baited breath to hear him admit to what we already suspected.  We waited with forgiveness and respect.  He let us down then, maybe he let us down last night too.  “Yes, but” isn’t the same as “Yes, and I am sorry”.

I believe he is truly sorry, I believe that in his mind he admitted to all he could admit to and still retain his athletic history.  He went as far as he could without tainting his entire career.

As a batting coach I think he will be great.  He will teach the players the skills they need to become better hitters.  Maybe he’ll be better equipped to see signed of steroid use in his players now and stop them.  I don’t know.  LaRussa has faith in him.

We will watch this season with an asterisk beside his name for now.

Do you remember a time when the news was delivered to us nightly, by Walter Cronkite? 30 minutes, all you needed to know without all the fluff filler pieces? When he said “And that’s the way it is”, you knew that was the way it was, and you could get on about your evening?

Remember a time when there were only 3 network stations, and that’s all you had to choose from? If you didn’t like what was on, there was always radio, or god forbid, a book. Or even your own imagination. If the President was on that night, you were left with no other option.

Do you remember a time when you needed to find information you had to actually look it up? A research paper required actual, uh, research, usually at a library. The only spell check available was in your head, or the dictionary.

Do you remember a time when as soon as you finished eating breakfast you were out the door, on your bike, and gone until the sun went down that night? When you could call your parents and tell them “Hey I’m sleeping over at Bobby’s house” and they knew that Bobby’s parents were home? When a stick you found in your yard could be a gun, a sword, a magic wand?

What happened to those times? When did it become imperative that we be bombarded by news 24 hours a day? Not only do we have 24 hour news stations, they read us a story, as another story tracks across the bottom of the screen for us to read.

When did 3 channels stop being enough, and the need for more entertainment sucked out all of our imagination? Isn’t it ironic that now that we have a channel for every possible need or desire, more often than not we discover there is nothing worth watching on television.

Well, there is always the news.

Or the weather channel.

How many libraries have fewer books on their shelves because their encyclopedias were out of date, and it can all be found on line now anyway? When did Google become our kids’ research assistant?

Kids today don’t crawl out of bed before 10 because they stayed up half the night playing. Not outside, not chasing fireflies, but playing video games on line with their friends. Now, playing with Bobby, means going to their room and getting on line.

Sure some technological advances have been wonderful and necessary and have made our lives better, easier, faster. But at what cost? Faster means we can just cram more things into a day. If you could find an extra hour in a day, what would you do with it? Would you do laundry or dishes? Would you finish up the report your boss wants? Would you take a nap? Go get a message? Or would you play with your babies, read them a story, go for a walk, play in the park?

Is it really necessary to know every single bit of news from all around the world? Do we really need eleventy billion analysts dissecting every single word, phrase, or body movement for hidden meanings and subliminal messages? Do I care if Obama’s tie was blue or red or green, or if Hillary’s skirt was above or below her knees. Do I care what Sarah Palin looked like in a bathing suit years before she ran for governor? No, but they have been analyzed to death.

I make my daughters bring home books from the school library for school projects. I take them to the library and help them look things up. The television is turned off most nights, and we read, or hang out just being girls.

I listen to the radio in the morning and on my way home from work. If anything significant happens after I get home, I’m sure they will still be discussing it when I go to work the next day.

I think technology, in it’s desire to make our lives easier, has in fact sucked a lot of the life right out of us. Would I give up what advances we have made? Not all of them, no. I would give back HDTV and surely 3D TV, but my internet and iPod? Oh hell to the no effing way. Momma needs her sanity.

There has to be a balance in there somewhere. I’m sure there’s an iPhone app for finding it.

I do not do these very often. I like to come up with my own words, but lately I’ve been soooo busy, the only word that is my own has been SHIT. Ok, maybe FUCK too. So, please don’t hold it against me for throwing this up here. I’ve been gone a week from blogging, I need something up here. I have already been voted out of Blog Off 2010. There’s still Blog Off 2011!

With that great and wonderful introduction, let us begin…….

1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?
I turned 41. Never have done that before and never will do that again. Also? Saw Phantom of the Opera (Live, not the movie). I went to a St. Louis Blues game. (We won).

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I’ve learned I’m not all that great with follow through, so I don’t make resolutions. Besides, I’ll forget them in a week or two, so why bother?

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
She’s not exactly close to me (understatement) but she is close to Brian’s family. She had her 2^nd baby this year. That’s all I know about it. Seriously.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
If a pet counts then yes, Missy Mae had to be put down. She was the most lovable chow I’ve ever known. And a killer. We didn’t have rabbits, moles, mice, or opossums while she was around. Now we have rabbits, deer, kittens, and a mole or two and a couple of opossums (ewwww).

5. What countries did you visit?
uh hello? Have to seen the economy? Have you been listening to the news about air travel? What about the pirates? Who can afford to go anywhere? Who would want to?

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?
Money. Plain and simple. Money. And lots of it. Oh and sex. Lots of that too. Not to say I lacked that in ‘09, I didn’t but you know if you’re giving away more of it, well, uh, if there’s more to be had.. wait, that sounded wrong. If having more sex in 2010, than in 2009 is an option, sign me up. Twice. Oh and that money thing too.

7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
There isn’t a single day that stands out for me in the entire year. Is that sad? I have a lot of moments that stand out to me, but a single date? If I was forced to pick I would say Valentine’s Day because Brian and I got back together for good. (Sounds so Jr High-ish, but it’s our history).

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
I bought a new car. All. By. Myself. Which to most people wouldn’t be a big deal, but to me it’s huge. Also, learning to recognize the signs and symptoms of a mood swing, and changing my medications to prevent a huge disaster.

9. What was your biggest failure?
I didn’t fight hard enough to spend time with my son. This past weekend I changed that.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
I’m pretty healthy (knock on wood) and aside from changing meds with my doc for my BPD, I wasn’t in a doctor’

11. What was the best thing you bought?
My laptop. My Jessica Simpson stilettos, my daughters’ iPods, oh and a car.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
All four of the kids. For getting along, for learning how to solve their problems. For learning how to live with and accept their differences. Oh and my behavior. I didn’t have any breakdowns, melt downs, or explosions. At the end of the year, all houses were standing, kids were still alive and Brian and I still loved each other. That’s a score in the WIN column for us.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
The Jackson Brother’s who are riding on Michael’s coattails after his death. Jon and Kate because really? They had no business being on television just because they had 8 kids. Balloon Boy’s parents, for using their son to garner more attention to themselves. Gov. Mark Sanford for being just a total tool. It is obvious what head he was thinking with and damn his handlers really needed to handle him better and just tell him SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP. Tiger Woods, enough has been said right there.

14. Where did most of your money go?
I truly wish I knew. I think there are goblins that come into the house at night and secretly eat it while I’m asleep because for as much as my W2 says I made, I’ve got nothing to show for it.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

My new camera and my new zoom lens. The fact that I retained custody of my girls and they got to complete a full year of school here. My relationship with Brian and his kids, and especially his mom.

16. What song will always remind you of 2009?
Britney Spears Circus cd (the entire album). I guess anything Lady Gaga or Taylor Swift because they are everywhere.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? Much happier.
b) thinner or fatter? Fatter, much.
c) richer or poorer? Financially, about the same.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Living in the moment instead of trying to change the past, or plan the future. Made more money. Played with the kids.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Eating Cheesecake. Spend Money. Holding onto dead baggage.

20. How did you spend Christmas?
The same way I have for the past 3 years. Brian worked Christmas eve. We open presents when he gets home, then have chiopino for dinner. Then the kids are off to the ex’s houses for holidays there.

21. Did you fall in love in 2009?
I was already in love with Brian before 2009, but he finally learned that his mouth will form the words I love you. And he won’t melt of die or explode if he says those words.

22. What was your favorite TV program?
I can easily get lost in any Law & Order show. Same with CSI. I love How things are made, or Mythbusters. Especially when they blow stuff up, which is always.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
Nope, still the same list of people.

24. What was the best book you read?
I read Angels and Demons by Dan Brown. I also discovered Brad Meltzer and he’s amazing. And David Baldacci, who wrote The Camel Club series. Very good.

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Nickelback

26. What did you want and get?
My man. A camera. A zoom lens. My ring. My laptop, my Jessicas. A raise.

27. What did you want and not get?
A check from Publisher’s Clearing house.

28. What was your favorite film of this year?
I just saw Obsessed this past weekend and loved it. I saw Angels and Demons, and just like DaVenci Code, the book was better than the movie. You know it’s difficult to remember a whole year. Did I watch a movie? Which one? Did I watch more than one? Did I like them? Did I love them? I saw some that didn’t impress me much….but without a list of 2009 movies in front of me, I couldn’t tell you. A sign of old age… I think. I can’t remember.

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
It was my 41^st birthday and since it’s July 3^rd there was a bar b que, and fire works, and the kids bought me a liter of Captain Morgan (I have no idea where they found a liquor store that would sell to them, let alone how they got there, but since they were smart enough to know exactly what to get me, I figure they are smart enough to figure out how to get it.) Brian bought me a bracelet. (see a theme? I get jewelry for every celebration. Can’t wait for Valentine’s Day!!!)

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Money? I guess being a better photographer and/or writer would be a good thing.

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?
“Whatever fits.” As the number on the scale climbed, and the back 40 spread out further and further, the amount of clothes in my closet shrank in direct proportion.

32. What kept you sane?
Drugs. No, seriously, medication. Without it, I would be a mess.

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Simon Baker. That Aussie Hottie can eat crackers, or anything for that matter, in my bed and I wouldn’t kick him out. Ever.

34. What political issue stirred you the most?
The wars. My brother is in the military and seriously what are we doing over there, if the terrorists are still able to attack us? I mean, really, it’s not a stretch that they will be attacking from within.

35. Who did you miss?
I miss Brian’s Dad. My family has a ritual about pennies when someone close to us passes. So whenever I find a penny on the ground, I know several people love me and are watching over me. Every penny I found this year I picked up and said “Hi Dad”. So many times this year when I was so unsure about things with Brian, there would always be a penny that day and I would know everything would be ok. And it was.

36. Who was the best new person you met?
I am such a homebody, unless it was someone new we hired this year, I didn’t meet many (if any) new people this year. God that sounds so sad, and maybe pathetic. I met a lot of people on the internet and they are amazing and awesome and I can’t pick one new person, and I won’t list them because I am afraid I’ll leave someone off the list accidently and well I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. (How’s that for dodging a bullet?)

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009.
Doing the right thing is hard, walking away is easier but creates more trouble later. Stick it out, do the right thing, no matter what. Face your fears. Own your shit. Don’t give up.

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
“You are my sunshine”?

“Oh I wish I was an Oscar Meyer Weiner” ?

The results are in for the first round of voting at Blog Off 2010. It is no surprise to me, that not only was in the lowest two places, I had last place wrapped up all by myself.  I went in knowing I was a newbie, and a virtual unknown, and with low expectations.  This is one of those times when it truly was an honor to ne asked to paticipate in this contest with this calibar writers.  It insires me to try harder, write more, and maybe just  maybe I can make it to Round 2 in Blog Off 2011.

Just because I am no longer participating, that does not mean you shouldn’t still read the other participants entries and vote for them.

Thanks goes out to Knucklehead for thinking I had what it takes to be a member of this group and asking me to join. I am tickled pink that someone thinks I write well enough to participate in a writing contest.  Thank you for the opportunity.

More to come later today. Promise.

This post is part of a Blog Off 2010 set up by Knucklehead.

Dear 2009,

It’s been nice knowing you, although at times I was convinced that you are more bipolar than me. So, before you go can we discuss some things? You have had your moments, both good and bad, and you have been a year to remember. I’d be lying though if I said a lot of us are not so sad to see you go.

You were the year we put two African American men in the big house, paid for by the government, and his every move would be monitored. Of course I mean Obama. And OJ. Sure we couldn’t get OJ behind bars for murder, but then again we had to settle for tax evasion with Al Capone. Whatever works.

The first of many train wrecks of the year happened in January when Octomom delivered her litter of babies. I’m not exactly sure how a doctor and ignore all ethics and transplant eight embryos during an IVF treatment, but *not* tie her tubes or removed her uterus to prevent this from happening again. Maybe, like the rest of us, the doctors are just hoping it will wither up, and fall out.

Michael Phelps apparently doesn’t know his friends very well because one of them threw him under the bus with pictures of Michael with a bong. He owned up to it, and got a slap on the wrist. I guess gold medals have special powers. If any of us had tested positive for drugs, we would be fired on the spot. And really, is marijuana a sport enhancing drug? Only if there is a bag of Doritos waiting at the end of the race. Or in his case, Frosted Flakes.

Governor Sanford discovered his soul mate while “hiking the Appalachian trail”. He obviously failed geology because imagine his surprise when they discovered him in South America not even close to the Appalachian Trail. I guess the soul mate should be grateful he didn’t claim to be exploring the Grand Canyon.

Madonna was, well, out-Madonna’d this year. Twice. By Lady Gaga who reinvented herself almost as often as Madonna changed boy toys, and by Adam Lambert who tangled tongues with one of his back up dancers that made Madge’s kiss with Britney seem like a peck on the cheek.

Ellen is replacing Paula Abdul on American Idol this year. Ellen knows as much about music as Paula did. She will be as funny as Paula was but she will be sober. And hell, aren’t we all secretly hoping she will bring her hot wife with her?

Was there a month, a single month, when Jon, Kate, the 8, and whoever else Jon saw fit to drag in, were not on the cover of a tabloid? First it was her hair. Then it was his shirts. Then it was her tears. Then it was his hook ups. Then it was the bank accounts, and TV show. When exactly did it stop being about the kids? The second they stopped being the money making machine they had been all their life.

While we’re on the subject of parents and children and reality shows, seriously, WTF was Balloon Boy all about? Has that family completely lost their common sense chip? I mean really? Everyone knows you can’t fly a kid cross country hanging from an oversized Jiffy Pop balloon.

The party crashers of the year award goes to Tareq and Michaels Salahi. Apparently ridiculous stunts are the new way to finagle your own reality show. I am pretty sure the Secret Service doesn’t have a whole lot of fashion sense (they wear black suits all the time) but seriously? This? Holly Hobby called, she wants her dress back. That should have been the first clue they were crashing. One of these things is not like the others.

Michael Jackson died unexpectedly. His family and half the world mourned his loss, but behind closed doors the family was mourning the passing of their brother Michael Jackpot. The brothers have joined together and under the guise of mourning and honoring their bankroll brother, they are using his death to resuscitate their careers. They have completely changed the meaning of life after death.

And as if all of this wasn’t enough, then there was Tiger Woods who’s minor fender bender blew up in his face. Who hasn’t heard at least a dozen jokes about Tiger? Every week another one of his sponsors bails out. Except for Nike, whose slogan is Just Do It.

**If you liked this post, please head on over to Knucklehead’s blog and vote for me in the Blog Off.  Please?  If you don’t, I’ll get stabby.  Oh, and tell your friends!!!  Now, go vote. GO!  Take friends.  Vote twice. Whatever it takes.