The Friday Diary: There's no store called "Forever 25" for a reason

Heyyyyy it's Friday everybody!

And this Friday is especially awesome, because I am going DANCING TONIGHT!

Yes, you read that all caps announcement correctly.

I am gettin my dance on, a-hole!

I feel like I should wear something sparkly.

OR JINGLY!

Wait for it....all white outfit.

Like a P Diddy music video.

I'm going straight late 90's up in herrr.

I'm sorry. I have little to no concept of what cool actually is anymore, because I'm 25 and I feel like that's when you start to make your slow and inevitable descent into "Clueless Adult" who doesn't understand texting abreviations or trendy music anymore.

The other day someone texted me "TTFN" and I had to Google it.

I was highly disappointed by the actual meaning.

I considered coming up with my own:

"Take Two Fluffy Nuts"

or

"Talking To Floppy Nuns"

or

"Take Tuxedoed Ferrets Nowhere"

Annnnnnnd this is why I'm single.

Anyway, no matter what might be currently wrong in my life, it will not matter today or tonight because I am going dancing and nothing makes me happier than being able to jump around a crowded dance floor to Usher, encouraged by my own dillusions that I can dance like Beyonce.

Because after two Appletini's who can't dance like Beyonce?!

{Still me}

So, whatever you're doing this Friday, if it doesn't end up as amazing as you thought it would, just stop for a moment and picture my glowing white and uncoordinated self trying to do The Dougie in what I think might be a country western bar.

I actually have no idea what kind of dance place we're going to. I heard dancing and then blacked out from excitement.

Also, I need to Google what this Dougie dance is, and then spend the rest of the day practicing it for my co-workers.

TTFN.

A Letter to No One

I almost feel bad about not writing lately.

Or maybe I would feel bad if the silence didn't feel so good.

Sometimes not saying anything, and just letting all the useless words that don't mean anything, that don't fix anything, that don't change or prevent anything, dry up and die inside you rather than letting them out and allowing them to live in infamy forever, allowing them whatever minor effect they might have on whoever they might have it on, feels better.

I open my email and start a new message at least once a day.

I start to type something, but then I remember it just doesn't matter.

Sometimes all the pretty words in the world don't mean anything.

And then I contridict myself by reading all my favorite books one more time.

I'm halfway through Alice in Wonderland, and this time I think I dislike Alice a little, but the Mad Hatter and I would be good friends.

I'm a quarter of the way into White Oleander.

I'm on the first chapter of Vinegar Hill.

Today I ordered The Lover's Dictionary, but I don't know why.

Maybe it was his definition of Aberrant, and the way it made my heart catch in my throat because it reminded me of everything, and it was the truest thing I'd read in so long, it made me think of the way people must feel when they find God while reading the bible.

Aberrant: adj.

"I don't normally do this kind of thing", you said

"Neither do I" I reassured you.

Later it turned out we both had met people online before, and we both had slept with people on the first date before, and we both had found ourselves falling too fast before. But we comforted ourselves with what we really meant to say, which was:

"I don't normally feel this good about what I'm doing"

Measure the hope of that moment, that feeling.

Everything else will be measured against it.

-The Lover's Dictionary, David Levithan

I guess even when I deny words, and their effect on me, they're still the closest I've ever come to a religion.

You Can't Read The Last Chapter First

There is something incredibly satisfying about realizing for yourself that everything is going to be ok. I mean, when something sad happens, it's like all anybody wants to tell you, that everything will be ok. After a while the words start to lose meaning and it almost makes you angry that people could be so blindly optimistic in the face of such terrible defeat. You want to scream in their face "HOW THE FUCK WILL THIS EVER BE OK?"

But at some point, it's like you realize it for yourself. You just know.

All of a sudden you have faith again.

You can say that the future is not yet written, and you have no idea what it holds, but for the first time that doesn't terrify you. It excites you.

You feel all of a sudden like you've been given the opportunity for new adventure.

Like there might actually be this great and mystical something down the road, and you have no idea what it is, but maybe getting to the last chapter won't hurt as bad as you thought.

Maybe it will be fun.

Maybe the hero hasn't died yet, and maybe all is not lost, there just has to be a few plot twists to keep it interesting.

And maybe the ending will be a surprise to everyone, but aren't those always the best stories? 

The ones where you never saw it coming?

Where the villain is the one you least expected and the hero is the underdog, and your prince charming doesn't save you, but you save each other?

Maybe it doesn't all have to be so predictable.

Maybe, even if I don't know what's going to happen or who I will end up with or how it's all going to play out, maybe I'll still be ok.

I guess because at least I know, whatever happens on the next page of my story, it won't be boring.

It won't be ordinary.

And really, isn't that what I've always hoped for out of all this?

A life less ordinary?

Life's most extravagant adventure?

So that's what I'm looking forward to now.

Our Love Story: The Final Chapter

This is the part I honestly thought I would never have to write.

This is the part that I believed, truly, would never come.

But it has.

Bill and I broke up.

Again, and I think now for the last time.

He came to my house, always a gentlemen, not making me come to him and not doing it over the phone, and he asked me, as kindly as possible, to let him go.

We held each other for a long time.

We said goodbye in as many different ways as we could think of.

And we made promises to stay best friends.

Because in the end, he's always been my best friend.

He's been the person who understood me. Who laughed at my jokes, and knew when my jokes were really masking something deeper, something I couldn't say, and in those times, he held me. He's the person who was always there. For drinks, for support, for help and for countless other things. And while it lasted, he gave me a deep and beautiful love, that I will not forget.

Not in this life, or the next.

He taught me that true love is possible, even if it doesn't last forever.

It can move you, it can heal you, and it can awaken in you a capacity for forgiveness and acceptance and hope that you didn't think you had.

For that, I am forever grateful.

After a lot of tears, and even some laughs, and so many hugs, I walked him to his car.

I tried to be brave and not cry when I said goodbye, and I stood on the corner and waived as he drove away.

I made myself stay upright until he turned the corner and disappeared, and then I hit my knees and cried on the sidewalk. No, I wept.

I wept for all the things I thought we would have someday together.

I wept for all the places we won't see together, and all the things we never got to do.

All the things I never got to say.

All the goodnights and good mornings and hello kisses we never got to share.

I wept because he's always been mine, in one form or another, and now I have to let him go, and accept that at some point he will become someone else's. And when that happens I'll know that that person is living the life I wasn't able to have. The life I never made it to because I couldn't stop tearing this apart. No matter how badly I wanted it.

After I stopped crying I sat in my driveway and smoked my last cigarette, staring at the street he'd just drove away on, and tried not to hope that he'd come speeding back, saying he'd made an awful mistake and he couldn't let me go.

I made myself get up and go inside.

I let myself say goodbye to him one last time in a text, and then I forced myself to sleep.

Maybe it doesn't seem like this chapter should be part of our love story, but it is because I still consider our story a love story. We had it great, and perfect for a while, but it wasn't built to last. Relationships that change your life, and change you as person, don't come a long every day.

What no one ever tells you is they also don't always last forever.

But they were still real.

It was still love, and it's still a love story even if it ends without a happily ever after. 

And I am so glad that I got to live that kind of love for the time that I did.

And maybe now we have a new future ahead of us, and we'll finally find the right place for us in each other's lives.

Whatever role we're meant to play for each other, I have hope that we'll find it.

And I am grateful for every single second I had as his girl.

Every moment that I possessed his heart, and he possessed all of me. 

But now it's time to say goodbye to that chapter of our lives together.

Where we go from here, I don't know.

Hopefully toward an amazing friendship.

Beyond that, there is only what I wish for, and whatever it is we're meant for.

Thankful

I am thankful for long, full days at work that make time pass quickly and have kept me away from myself.

+

I am thankful for little boys who always want another hug before they go to sleep.

+

I am thankful for chances. Seconds, thirds, fourths.

And hopefully making them count.

+

I am thankful for work friends who become real friends. Who drive you home when your tire goes flat and pick you up when it's still not fixed, and answer texts and phone calls and questions, and are always willing to tell you it will be ok.

+

And this morning, maybe just a little bit, I am most thankful for coffee.

Especially of the delicious and free variety.



Absent

I don't want to go into details right here, right now, but I do promise not to be that annoying vague girl who posts vague shit about vague drama and asks for sympathy and help but never tells you what the fuck is going on.

I promise when I'm ready I will tell you what I can.

But for right now, I'm struggling.

I am hurting.

I have nothing to say to anyone that anybody needs to hear.

In short, I'm goin through some shit right now, and nobody wants me to blog about it.

Trust me.

But I'll be back soon, and I'll make it all up to you.

Until then, I apologize, but I need to take a bit of an absence.

See you on the other side, right?

I hope so.

When It Rains

If it were up to me, everything would stop when it rained, and we'd be together.

For as long as the storm made music on the roof and windows, and everything outside was stuck in the twilight blue and grey of a world under water, there would be no responsibilities.

No jobs that need doing, no clocks that need winding, no houses that need cleaning, and no one that needs our attention or time but the two of us.

And there would be plenty of blankets, and more than enough pillows, but the only one I'd need would be your chest.

One arm wrapped around my waist, and an entire afternoon of torrential downpour, 

Drowning out the sound of everything else that makes so much noise, and distracts me from your smile.

From the blue of your eyes

And the smell of your skin

And the way the palm of your hand on the side of my face makes me sleepy

If it were up to me the only thing we'd be required to do when it rained

Would be being together.

I'm Just Asking

I'm not asking for much. I don't want to be demanding. I hate pulling on shirt sleeves and knowing that I'm taxing someone with my questions and requests. I just want one thing. I just want to know that you still feel the same about me. That you never stopped feeling about me the way you did when I was all you wanted in the world. When you would've given anything to kiss me again. When our time together was precious. I just want to know you still love me like you did on the nights when we took off everything, not just our clothes, and you made constellations out of the freckles on my back and I knew I was home.

I just want to know that your heart still aches when you think about losing me. That your heart still leaps when you see me at your door. That when you kiss me, you still sink down to the bottom of the sea.

I'm not asking for much. 

I just want to know I'm still your everything.

An Open Letter to Fall

Alright.

I've said it before.

And yes, I am going to say it again.

Fall, please come. Now.

I am so over summer. 

SO OVER IT.

I think just even one more day might be enough to break me. 

Too bad this is Arizona and there's like another 90 days of unbearable heat left.

Why my parents moved me here, I have no idea.

The Friday Diary: Goodbye, Wonderful Week

So today concludes my birthday week.

And what better way to wrap it up than to be heading out of town with Bill today?

I couldn't think of one if I tried.

...

Letters:

Dear Bill, This week was so lovely. You made my birthday beautiful, and you made me feel so loved and cared for. Thank you for always caring about the little things as much as I do.

Dear Chris, You've most definitely become my best friend at work, and a true friend even outside the office. You're sweet and hilarious and I don't know how I'd get through a Monday without you.  I like you more than hot coffee and pictures of Juanita.

Dear Lainie and Jack, I loved your handmade birthday cards, and I loved the glitter on the floor and scraps of paper all over the house that showed how hard you worked on them.

Thank you for making my birthday that much sweeter.

...

Overheard:

Me: Lainie, how was your first day of third grade?! Tell me everything!

Lainie: It was SO GOOD. 

Me: Why?

Lainie: We had bean burritos for lunch!!!

I wish my life was still this simple.

...

School Days:

Lainie started 3rd grade on Tuesday. Holy crap. I am so cliche, because every year I always say the same thing "She like JUST BORN yesterday."

Jackson was very upset that he wasn't starting big kid school too, as you can see.

All in good time, buddy.

And all too soon.

...

My Happy Birthday

Today started off good, with my best work friend Chris bringing me flowers and dark chocolate {pink roses-my favorite!} to me in the morning, and then a delicious lunch with her, Bill and our other work pal Hector, at DeFalco's in Scottsdale.

As you can see by the first picture, I was given my very own Canon Rebel.

I very nearly had a heart attack. This is almost the exact same camera that Bill and I got to play with in Italy. The camera that I fell so desperately in love with it was ridiculous.

And now I have one!

I can take pictures of everything I eat for the rest of my life.

You don't have to say it, Bill, I already know you're excited.

I also got a lovely apron and oven mit {shown above} from Bill's fantastic sister Lori.

I'm telling you, this lady is a seriously amazing gift giver. 

No surprise, really, Bill is too.

The apron was something I've been coveting since I saw it on Pinterest over a month ago, and I was so happy that I wrote Lori a very sincere and awkward thank you note that should be creeping up her mailbox in the next few days.

And then she will regret ever giving me presents, fucking immediately.

To wrap it all up, the kids and I went out for steak and fried pickles for dinner, and I learned that Jackson is already a medium rare steak kind of guy. When his meat wasn't red enough in the middle, he asked to send it back.

A boy after my own heart.

So this has been a truly lovely birthday, and so far being 25 is starting out pretty damn well.

Thank you to all the people who made it special.

I truly am one very lucky birthday girl.

xoxo

Recipe: Caprese Salad

Recently I did something I would consider pretty stellar: I got two weeks of groceries with one weeks grocery budget.

It was amazing.

I stood there at the check out counter with baited breath, watching the total add up, just hoping it would ring up at least 1 cent under the 100 I had decided to try to stretch twice as far as it normally does. Not for any big reason other than my life is boring and playing games with myself in the grocery store is a source of entertainment for me these days.

Anyway, when the total popped up $98.76, I almost cried.

One of the things I attribute to my success was when I planned my menu, I planned in 3 meatless meals.

Meat, in any form, be it fish, chicken, beef or sausage-basically any food with a face-is getting higher and high in price it's unbelievable!

So, three of the 14 meals I planned would be meatless, and I think I saved at least 20 bucks by just doing those three meals that way.

One of the meatless dinners I planned was Caprese pasta.

Bill and I love Caprese, and we find excuses to make it as often as possible. It's delicious, it's good for you {except the cheese, but who's counting} and in hot summers it's so refreshing it's ridiculous.

So, I figured why not throw it in some pasta with butter and Parmesan and call it a meal?

So I did.

What You Need:

About 1 cup fresh mozzarella cheese {by fresh I just mean the softer stuff, not the shredded or block stuff they sell at the stores. Look for those squishy balls of it in the produce/deli section}

+

1 carton cherry tomatoes {firm ones are better}

+

1 box of your favorite pasta {we like Rotini}

+

Fresh Basil

+

Olive Oil, Balsamic Vinegar, Minced Garlic

+

Butter and Parmesan cheese.

This is so easy it's hardly even a recipe, but here you go:

Cube up about 1 cup of mozzarella-or really however much you want. We're cheese people, so I did more. Heat some olive oil in a skillet with a little minced garlic. Throw the tomatoes in and rip up the basil. Throw that in too. Mix it up and add a splash of Balsamic vinegar and some salt and pepper {sea sea and cracked pepper are best} Let that saute/simmer until the tomatoes are soft {but not mushy} and hot. Remove from burner and cover until your noodles are done.

When the noodles are done, drain but don't rinse, and then add a couple good heaping tablespoons of butter {or some olive oil, whatever you like} and mix it up until the butter melts.

Douse with Parmesan cheese and toss until the noodles are lightly coated {this is more to taste, however much cheese you want}.

Now throw in your tomato/Basil mixture and as much chunked up mozzarella as you want, and enjoy!

We ate this with piping hot garlic bread since I didn't think I'd get the kids to eat this, plus more veggies in a salad.

In case you're wondering how much this meal cost:

Pasta: %1.00

Tomatoes: $2.00

Cheese: On sale for $2.50

Basil: .97 cents

Garlic bread: 1.99

Parmesan cheese: $1.77, which will probably last another 20 meals, easily.

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Total: $10.23

$1.70 per serving 

It fed all three of us once, and there are plenty of left overs for a second meal for each of us which makes it a six serving meal at least.

This was the most expensive meal we planned for the two weeks of groceries we bought, but considering it made enough for two meals, I'd consider it about average per serving with all the other meals.

Monday Momisms: Living Life on Repeat

I hate repeating myself.

Really.

It bothers me so much, that if I am in a bad mood and someone needs me to repeat something more than twice, I'm done. They had their damn chance.

I somehow never imagined this being an issue when having kids.

I know that when you have kids you say the same shit to them, a lot. You say things like "Please turn the bathroom light off" when you hear the toilet flush-every. time. you hear. the toilet flush. because you know they never turn the light off. You say "Stop fighting" and "No tattling" and "Quit licking that" or "We only touch our pee pee when we're alone, not in the grocery store Jackson" almost every day, if not multiple times in a day.

That's fine.

Irritating after a long day, but fine.

What's less fine?

Saying the same thing 392938239823298 times, without having the chance to say anything different in between because it's the ONLY thing you want the child to hear until it gets done AND THEY JUST WONT DO IT.

Examples: Eat your dinner, and Go to sleep.

Jackson's new thing these days is taking as long as humanly possible to do those two things.

I literally have to have dinner in front of him by 6:30 because he will take every minute of the next hour to eat it, and he still needs a bath, a story, his teeth brushed and some run around time before his 8 pm bedtime.

What is he doing that make dinner take so unbelievable long?

He's playing with his shoe lace and he's asking if giraffe's make a noise and he's telling his sister that dinner's not a race and he's asking for more milk and he's cracking jokes and he's going on bathroom breaks and he's spinning around in circles and he's singing songs and he's driving me batshit crazy.

Mainly, he's talking.

About anything. It doesn't matter.

Just. Fucking. Rambling.

Until at some point, after having said 409 times "Jackson, eat your dinner!" I end up snapping, losing my schmidt and saying "Shut your mouth and eat your food!" which makes no sense, but I yell it so it doesn't have to make sense because it's loud and it makes him eat...for about 5 seconds.

And then it's bedtime.

Jackson is clean, his teeth are brushed, he's sat quiet and still through his story, and he's all snuggled next to me in bed.

And now he wants to ask every single question in the world again.

Can I have more milk?

I'm still thirsty.

What's for breakfast tomorrow?

If I sleep for a little bit then can I get up and watch a movie?

Can you watch a grown up movie while I fall asleep?

I dont like bedtime.

Sleeping makes my tummy hurt.

Nighttime is too long.

Do I have to go to daycare tomorrow?

Can I see Papa this weekend?

Can I go say goodnight to Lainie again?

When will I go to school like she does?

Can I get out of bed now?

And in my head I'm all SHUTUPRIGHTNOWANDGOTOSLEEPBEFOREIPUNCHALLTHEWALLS.

But outwardly I'm like "Jackson, seriously, go to sleep. Now. This isn't funny. No more milk. Because I said. You just went pee. Fine, go one more time. No, you can't have cereal. Seriously, go to sleep. Do you want to go sleep in your own room? Do you want a time out? Do you want to lose your pillow and your blanket? No I wouldn't actually take your blanket, but you do have to go to sleep before Mommy starts crying. Because I'm tired. I don't know what sadness is made of. OH MY GOD GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP. Yes, mommy said a bad word. She's sorry. Go. To. Sleep."

It's maddening. 

I feel like this phase of Jackson's development is by far one of the most irritating.

Maybe second only to that really fun phase he went through of waking up every night at 3 a.m. to stand in his bed and scream, inconsolably, and then ask for peanut butter and go back to sleep.

Like that phase, I'm sure this one will pass. Until then, if you need me I will be rocking back and forth in the corner mumbling "eat your dinner and go to sleep" over and over with drool coming out of the side of my mouth.

Because I'm going fucking insane.

The Friday Diary: Stuff and Things

...

 I am absolutely loving Ray Lamontagne  right now. I listen to it all day at work {aka when I can get away with wearing headphones} and while I'm falling asleep at night, with a little Rainy Mood in the background to provide some white noise.
Those two things after a scalding hot shower? Mama's out like a light in 3...2....1

...

Overheard:

Bill: That's so interesting. Fill my vessel with your knowledge.

Me: That's disgusting. Don't ever tell me to fill your anything with my anything ever again.

Bill: Yeah, but it got you to stop talking. That was pretty cool.

Me: Worst. Boyfriend. Ever.

Except for that he's not. He's the best.

He still says disgusting things though.

 ...

Born:

Giovanni Valentino. My newest nephew, making a total of 4 nephews, added to my 3 nieces, and now us four kids have given my dad 9 grand kids. Crazy.

...

Watched:

The Watch

It wasn't the highest brow humor I've ever seen, but it was definitely funny. We laughed through most of it. Someone did bring a baby into the theater though, and I did not laugh at that.

Not. Even. Once.

...

Reminisced:


Dawson's Creek is now available on Netflix. Since I'm out of Grey's episodes and I've watched Sleepless in Seattle more times than I can-or am willing to-count, I decided on a whim to start watching Season One of Dawson's on Sunday night. This show pretty much instantly takes me back to 1998, watching this show every single week with my sisters and the kids next door, all of us piled on the couches together, watching this unbelievably cheesy teen melodrama unfold with baited breath.
Nothing makes me want to bust out my Shawn Culvin CD and puka shell necklace like this show. Maybe next I'll watch Charmed and start wearing Tommy Girl perfume again.

...

Discovered:

Marion Bolognesi's watercolors. I absolutely can't handle how beautiful this one is. It takes my breath away-literally-every time I look at it.

...

Pinterested:


Check it out. It's a Nana fight.

...

So. That's the haps these days on the internets. I hope you all had a fantastic week. Stay tuned for next week, when I turn 25 and inevitably do something embarrassing whilst celebrating my birthday. Like I do every single year.
Hey, remember the year Bill made me drink alcohol out of a plunger on my birthday?!

I do.


Happy Friday.

Dance With Me

Dance with me.

When there aren't any words for all the things that make us tired.

Dance with me.

Take me by the hand like they did in black and white movies.

Lead me through the dimly lit living room.

You can turn the radio on

Or you can hum in my ear

Or we can sway back and forth to the sound of our hearts and the rhythm of our breath

And it won't matter.

When storm clouds fill our eyes

When we tie our lungs in knots from trying to explain our separate points of view

Over

And over

And over again

Just dance with me.

I will lay my head against your chest and we will slow dance,

And everything will be ok.

Nothing will need to be said because a waltz says everything.

It says I love you even when you're too angry to.

It says I'm beautiful and you're charming

Even when neither of us feel like anything better than confused kids

Wearing our parents suits and dresses.

When the rest of the world makes too much Goddamn noise

Just dance with me. 

If You Really Knew Me

I originally saw this here {and then about a million other bloggy places} and I'm low on post ideas, so here you are.

If you really knew me....

If you really knew me you'd know that I am not to be trusted around breakfast meats, such as bacon or sausage. I will eat an entire pan of it if left to my own devices.

You'd know that Sleepless in Seattle and When Harry Met Sally are my two favorite movies, even though I tell people it's something more intelligent and sophisticated.

Judge me.

You'd know that truly good iced coffee is my weakness. Second only to kisses on my neck and pictures of black bears.

You'd know I'm highly inappropriate.

{but a super good time}

You'd know that I hate the color yellow in almost every shade, especially mustard. 

This new trend of mustard and gray themed outfits, furniture, home decor and accessories is not pleasing me.

You'd know I'm terrified of the dark, insects, strange illnesses, ladders, ventriloquist dummies, being murdered and my car exploding.

I know. Weird.

You'd know that I'm a crier. You probably actually already know this. I cry over the weirdest things, and sometimes just sitting around watching TV my mind can wander into strange enough territories to make me cry.

I cried through like the whole first season of Grey's Anatomy.

You'd know that I cannot, I mean CANNOT watch TV shows or movies that involve themes about hurting/abusing/killing children. Law and Order SVU is one of my favorite shows, but the episodes about kids? Not a chance. I still haven't {and will never} see Shutter Island for this reason. When themes like that come up, I instantly start sobbing and have a massive panic attack.

You'd know I cannot whistle, cross my eyes or hula hoop.

If you really knew me you'd know that in 5th grade I told one of my friends that I couldn't be her friend anymore because she sneezed too loud. I was serious, and I still don't regret it.
It was like a scream/sneeze.

You'd know that I hate taking out the trash. More than any other chore in the world. Seriously.

You'd know that I don't like touching toilet water, I take a super hot shower every night before bed in order to sleep, and the sound of rain and cloudy gray days make me all kinds of happy and sentimental. 

You'd know I actually didn't learn to cook decently until well after I moved out on my own. My fridge in my first apartment had nothing but green olives, coco pebbles cereal and Totino's pizzas in it.

You'd know that new socks and underwear make me so happy that I put them on as soon as I get home. First thing. 

You'd know that I like the guy to drive if I go anywhere with anyone of the male persuasion.

What would I know about you if I knew you?