When In Doubt: PreGame!

I had the BEST pre-thirtieth birthday weekend. The best.

The weather is finally starting to get more bearable here in ye olde mountains, so Saturday I spent the better part of the day in my yard hauling rocks large and small, mounds of dirt, planting my "booshes" and raking up leaves for mulch. By the time it started raining, I was filthy, exhausted, and happy. I took the BEST shower, shaved my legs for the first time since autumn (dead serious), and painted my toenails while watching a girlie movie with my roomie. I followed that wonderful relaxation up with a meal at my favorite mexicano restaurant (margarita, of course). Bliss.

Sunday morning, I met my sweet group of gals (and took my sweet unboyfriend along with me) to the BEST brunch in town: Stoney Knob Cafe (mimosas and a benny--le sigh). Then we took the party back to my house where me and the gals indulged in some serious nostalgia: Wilson Phillips, En Vogue, Paula Abdul, and a full-on rendition of the Little Mermaid, sung a capella of course. Add some homemade strawberry shortcake, a quick visit from my brother, and a great session of multiple O's, and I am a happy happy almost-out-of-my-twenties girl.

And I feel sexy. Verrrrry sexy. (It helps that I placed a mirror right by my bed where I can just glance over and...see certain...things. Yeah.)

I'm spending my ACTUAL birthday in NYC with my two best friends. Which rocks.

If my thirties are going in this direction, then things just got much better.

XMas in NY OMG like Totes!

Yessiree. And not with hot lesbian friend, who is apparently a celezbian, and can't pull herself away from the drama that comes with being a celezbian in Asheville.

EVEN BETTER.

With my newly yoga-addicted former roomie/anagram junkie and acupunk extraordinare, the Zen Materialist!!!! :)

Ice skating at Rockerfeller on Christmas eve, anyone????

Saturday Night Jollies Follies

The events I am about to relate really happened this past Saturday night.



I come home with my "friend". I have a backache from building a deck all day. I am in pain, but nothing serious. I am, however, in need of some serious, ahem, sexual healing.

"Friend" falls asleep. I am without relief. I begin to relieve myself, as was a habit during the last stages of my mostly sexless marriage.

Just as I'm reaching liftoff, "friend" wakes up (because apparently I was moaning), and asks me, "Are you ok? Do you need a doctor?"

I promptly lose my liftoff.

"What?" I ask.

"Do you need a doctor?"

...

"For my orgasm?"

"Oh. I thought you were in pain. Because of your back."

We laugh. Alot. And then we both relieve each other. Several times.

Updates, etc.

I just got back from a business trip to NY, and had a fabulous time. Even the "business" part was somewhat entertaining. I have decided I'm moving. But I guess I need a higher-paying job so that I don't look like a walking trash bag, digging in the bins for the next flavor of the month for survival. Anyone hiring? I am multi-talented with a flair for bullshit. Just sayin'.

The best thing about NY? I didn't think about my mother once. Not once. Well, I talked to one of my best girls about it over dinner one night (a delicious french dinner), and she made me feel decidedly better when she said "Your mom is such a drama queen." She and I have been best friends since 7th or 8th grade, so she knows my mom better than a lot of my acquaintances. It just feels good to know that you aren't crazy, you know? To know that my reaction to this entire situation is pretty fucking justified. Blah. Anyway.

So I get off the plane from NY, and saw the coolest thing: A group of monks (I assume), dressed in long black robes, greeted another monk that disembarked from my same flight. They have bells, flowers, and starting singing this beautiful song in their lovely tenor and bass voices. Everyone in the airport stopped and watched as they sang, with obvious joy on their faces, to this man from the plane. They all greeted him with cheek kisses, gave him flowers, broke a loaf of bread with him, and really made my day. You don't often see things like that (especially in Asheville) and it was just downright touching.

Another interesting note: The first voicemail I get when I get off the plane was my mom. She said she misses me, she loves me, and hopes I'm doing ok. I actually felt pretty good about this until I had a conversation with my husband over lunch. While I was gone, he talked with her about a few logistical things involving our house, and ultimately the discussion turned to this whole drama of her kicking us out. She basically said that I need to grow up. Yeah. All that does is confirm that fact that she is nowhere close to realizing what she has done, and for me solidifies that I am doing the right thing by having nothing to do with her right now. Once again, as she has done throughout my life, she is projecting, and now that I can recognize that and not question my instincts and feelings about it, I realize how far apart we really are, and probably have been for a long time now. I feel sorry for her. I do. But it doesn't make me want to repeat the agonizing cycle of prostrating myself for her so that she is no longer upset (a cycle that has been going on with us since I was three years old. "If I make Mommy happy, she won't be angry at me anymore and she will love me." A hard realization, but ultimately and good one for my soul.)

I know that I will eventually talk to her. I mean, I'm not going to cut her out of my life completely, and she will be my next door neighbor for the next two years at least. I know that I will talk to her, but I also know not to expect her to react the way I want her to react. She is who she is, and the best I can do is accept that and continue living my life. But one thing is for sure: I will not let her manipulate my feelings or force me to do things I don't want to do just because it will make her happy. I'm over that. And that is how I know that I have grown up. As painful as it is, I have grown up.

On a happier note, our house is getting very very close to being finished. This weekend, we install the flooring, the kitchen, and the bathrooms, and the next weekend is our painting party. After that, we will be days away from living there, and that is a good good feeling. To have a home that we have had a choice in every thing you see, to have a home that is perfect for my little family. Hell, just to have a home. Bliss.

I have a good life.

Oh, and one of my oldest friends and I--we've known each other since 3rd grade--are starting a band. So I'll also keep you updated on that progress as well.

Thank you all for your much needed and heartfelt support. I can honestly say that I have family all across the world, some family that I've never even seen their faces. But family all the same. Love you guys more than you know.

-Boo

Haiku Friday!

Friday, you rock me
hard between the ears and eyes
with the need to drink

I can save money
on PBR and cheese fries
at Rosetta's Kitchen

Thank god for late-night
and springtime in the mountains
and good college buds

You Slut. (I Love You.)

My best friend is leaving.

The woman that I routinely hung with during my "last year" of college ("last year" meaning taking a bare scattering of classes to say I was still in school, working a mindless cashiering job at a hippie co-op, and getting blasted pretty much every waking hour) is moving away.

We haven't lived in the same place in 4 years, but with only a 4 hour (3.5 when I drive; 3 with the hubs) car ride between us, we still see one another regularly. And now she is moving to L.A., and won't be a car ride away. She is leaving for this amazing opportunity, a dream, and I couldn't be happier for her, her talented husband, and their beautiful son.

This is the kind of friend that I can have months of silence with, but never skip a beat. This is the kind of woman that has seen a dark, dark side of me, and I her. This is a woman that I would do just about any-damn-thing for.

We have watched each other brave extreme heartaches; we have celebrated (oh, have we celebrated) the successes. We have fought each other; we have fought those around us together. We have laughed so much, that I think you could combine all the other laughs I've ever had in my life and they still wouldn't equal how much laughter we have shared.

She has taught me how to be strong, taught me how to be a better friend. She has taught me what "commitment" really means in a marriage. She has shown me what it is like to want something so badly only to be disappointed over and over again, all the time never giving up, and finally watching the miracle of hope and possibility happen.

She has taught me to be fearless.

I can't imagine right now--because it is hard to think about--how much, and in what ways, I am going to miss her. Sure, a plane ride from East Coast to West is nothing, and I know I will be a frequent, if not welcome, visitor to LaLa Land—not welcome to L.A. in general; welcomed by her, of course. But there is something about being close enough to get to someone in a relatively short time that makes it ok.

When my dad died, she came up that very day to see me, to take me away from the intense mourning of my family and friends, to release my heart from that vice-grip of agony, if only for a few hours. That is what I mean by a comfortable, easy distance.

When she went to the hospital, I was there the whole time, trying to keep a polite distance for her husband's benefit, ready to run the slightest little errand at a moment's notice.

I cried with her when her father passed, and celebrated with her when her son was born.

When my husband and I left her home last weekend, it was all I could do to not lose it. I didn't want to cry in front of her, because I could see she was treading the edge, and she hates crying in front of people. "Don't tell anyone I cried," she says.

And so I didn't. At least, I held it in until we drove out of sight.

I am really going to miss her.

A Call to Arms

Sorry for my serious absence folks. I have been on my ass all week with a sickness, and today (Friday) is my first day back to work all week. So yeah.

But more importantly: a good friend has been diagnosed with acute leukemia. I have never met her in person, but have spent time over the last year getting to know her through the internet. I say this so that everyone reading it will, perhaps for one moment, turn their attention and energy to her. Please send your thoughts, meditations, and prayers to her and her family during this incredibly difficult time. And if you live in the Richmond, VA area, please get on the bone marrow donor registry. In fact, wherever you live, go out today and donate blood or sign up for the national bone marrow donor list. Consider it a gift to the world. But at the very least, send your good energy to my friend. She, her husband, and her 2 year old son will certainly appreciate it.

Thanks guys.

Take Another Lil' Piece of My Heart

I've been doing my best, living in denial, but I must now face the music.

My good friend is leaving.

We've had our share of ups and downs, me and my buddy -- mostly ups. But the downs are where we really found our friendship. And now she is moving away, to go live with her wonderful fiance, where they will be happy and successful and lovey and together.

But they won't be here.

Remember when we first met? The fates must have brought us together, and nothing cements a bond like soldiers in the trench of warfare (cough, cough, museum, cough).

And then there were the "Unfortunate Friends." Let's hope they stay limber and stoned.

Of course, we can't EVER forget naked night. Even though a part of me kinda wants to, and another part of me wants to do it again...

As crazy as this sounds (although, coming from me I'm guessing you expect as much) the "Awkwardness of Fall 2007" is still remembered a bit fondly...with a few little laughs on my part.

I can only hope that, one day, the powerful crystals in the bedrock of this little mountain town will draw them back, and we can pick up where we left off: futher defining an ever-blossoming friendship that shows no signs of slowing.

There is much to say, and I know that I will be tearful when we finally say goodbye, but for now, know that I love you, will miss you terribly, and will never leave your internets idle, dear friend.

And I promise to keep you updated on the "town drama."

Here's hoping for your speedy return home, and the speedy return of my sex life. (Those are mutually exclusive, of course.)

Love,

A Girl Named Boo-Hoo

You SO Want to be My Friend

Because I would do great things for you.

Like, if you had a serious surgery, I would make you an amazing dinner consisting of, but not limited to:

Asian Meatloaf
Wasabi Mashed Potatoes
Lightly Sauteed Purple Kale
Beer

It is what I like to call Hip Comfort Food.

See? I told you you want to be my friend.

Therapy and Tattoos

Which sounds worse to you: needles poking into the skin over the majority of your back, or therapy?

Here is the current state of my tattoo work. Next is a half-sleeve on my upper right arm, and then probably a little filling in on the back piece. Like it? I fucking love it.

Last night was mine and the hubs first couples therapy session, and it was intense. I didn't realize how things that happened when I was a child affected my adult relationships, and to what degree. I have been really put off my therapists in the past. I had a horrible experience with a therapist right after my bio-dad passed away when I was 14, and that set the stage for how I have perceived therapy up to this point. This guy we are going to is really great. I was shocked at how much one session made a difference (not that we're stopping there, by any means). I am a sad, scared little girl, terrified of rejection with a wall of anger to protect myself.

It's funny, really. It puts so much into perspective for me. I have recently had a good friend cut off all communication with me, and I was trying to be respectful and give her space (with her giving me no reason whatsoever for this abrupt end to communicae). I had really been beating myself up about it, but now I see how much it has truly hurt me. I have been trying to be nonchalant about it, and tell myself that it doesn't bother me, but it really does. Rejection of that kind—no reason, no nothing—is one of the cruelest things a person could do to me, and I think this friend knows it. It is so sad.

Ironically, another friend did the same thing to me last year. No explanation, nothing. After I tried repeatedly to talk to her about what was going on (I literally had NO IDEA), she finally gave me this general "we are moving in different directions" explanation and that was that. God, it hurt so much. She was in my wedding, for christsakes.
And now this friend, whom I work with, and play softball with, and truly thought she cared about me as much as I did her. So it has not that easy for me to put it out of my mind.

I don't know, I guess it is her issue. But I can't know because she won't return my phone calls anymore. So here I am, feeling awful all over again, like a little girl, and my strong side keeps trying to protect that soft side of me.

Well, let me tell you, I was ready for a release, because I bawled like a baby at therapy yesterday.

So I guess tattoos hurt more than therapy, and rejection more than tattoos.