izzybella

Because you can’t take one quiz too many times.

Spooky, ain’t it?

Actually, when I think about it-truly, really-those are some trite expressions.  Happiness is…[insert suitably appropriate wonderfully squishy thing here].  But sometimes you have to take joy out of the little things.  Especially when there are so many big things all conspiring to make a girl cranky.  So today, I take happiness from my vegetable soup.  It’s homemade, made for me by an extraordinarily kind woman who, with her husband, runs a mom and pop ice cream shop in Eureka Springs, Arkansas.  Every time Dad and the the monster go up there, I beg them to bring home vegetable soup.  And they always make it for me-and not just a teensy bowl-nope, they make a vat.  And then they charge way too little for it.  So, I feel loved that (a) it was made especially for me, and (b) my parents brought it home in an ice chest so I could enjoy it today at lunch.  A girl has to love soup that has travelled over 500 miles just for her.  It is written.

Yesterday was bad.  Really a bad day.  To quote Fray, and for that matter, Buffy…”started off bad.  stayed that way.”

Had a fight with a friend-a friend I love.  Got an assignment at work that MUST be done by a specific date, only none of the people who sign off on it are cooperating.  One is out of town; the other doesn’t so much want to provide the documentation I need to get the job done.  Sorry, too much explainy would confuse further.  Co-worker is out of town attending a funeral this week and I’ve been slammed with phone calls and applications.  It’s always busier the last week of the month-people wanting to get their raises approved in time for the next pay period.  Who can blame ‘em?  But it was stressful yesterday.  And then I had my first therapy session.  So.  Yeah.  Yesterday not nearly as good as Sunday, the last time I blupdated.  Here’s hoping today improves.

The only bad part about today is that Sydney is getting worse.  She can barely move without, at best spitting up a bit, and at worst, projectile vomiting.  Let’s just say I’ve cleaned up a lot of vomit over the last few days.  Kinda gross.  Sorry if I gave you an unpleasant visual.  She’s okay when she’s calm; moving slowly, but get her the least bit excited and…you get the picture.  I’ll spare you.

So, since the parents are out of town and Syd is so sick, I’m taking my dog-sitting responsibilities very seriously.  I was gone much of the day yesterday and I promised, promised, promised her I’d be home more today.  And I have.  Yesterday I went to breakfast with Faith and shopped around a bit; went to the Kimball Art Museum to see the Impressionist exhibit from the Chicago Art Institute (gorgeous); then went to the home of a friend where I hung out a bit while she made me a masque for Halloween and her mother taught me how to use a loom.  Very cool.  I can’t tell you how satisfying it is to see rows upon rows of woven material that got that way courtesy of ME.  Pretty damn nifty.  But I didn’t get home till 8:00 and Syd was so freaking clingy when I got home…she’s just used to more people being there more often. 

This morning I promised her again that if I did leave her, it would be a very short duration.  She didn’t seem to believe me.  She followed me from the bedroom to the laundry room to the computer to the bathroom to the laundry room to the kitchen, etc…  Basically she didn’t let me out of her sight once.  I felt so guilty for leaving her just the one hour it took to grocery shop and pick up mail from the post office. 

So, I have solitude-quiet time if you will-with only one sweet little girl dog and NO parental units to speak of.  I have home-made baked macaroni and cheese (thanks for your help, chauceriangirl) and I just turned the television on and there was figure skating on channel 5.  Sweet.  It’s the perfect afternoon.  So this is what I’m gonna do now…gonna log off the computer, let the dog out, feed her, change into my pj’s and just veg out in front of the television.  There may Dr Pepper later on.  That’s right.  I live large.  I’m a rebel.

Hope your day is even better than mine.

I had my first ever spa day today.  Well, spa afternoon anyway.  I had a 60 minute massage, followed by a facial, followed by a pedicure.  My toenails are now a nice, wintery shade of purple.  I would like to have the money to do that once a month.  Alas, I do not.  I belong in the tax bracket that does that once in a very blue moon and maybe not even then.  But it could be worse.  I could be in that tax bracket that never gets to do something like that ever.

Still…I could get used to that.  I feel like a cooked spaghetti noodle.  A tasty cooked spaghetti noodle, not one that’s all cold and overcooked.  This analogy is not working, is it?  Bad analogy!!  Bad!

• Volunteered at Taste of Arlington last night.  Since it benefits the theatre I work at part-time, it just seemed like the thing to do.  Plus, free admission.  They have food (everything from Red Lobster biscuits to Hoffbrau steaks), drink (everything from margaritas and bellinis to Coca Cola), entertainment, a silent auction and many other fine giveaways.  It was a lot of fun.
• I received a coupon from an online store I frequent with a BOGO offer.  This means I buy one pair of shoes, then I get one free.  Free shoes.  Let me say it again.  FREE SHOES. Ah…need a cigarette now.  (no, I don’t smoke, that thar was a metaphor)
• I really like my new haircut.  It used to take between 30-45 minutes to style my long all the way down my back hair.  This new short hair is just…user-friendly, that’s what it is.  Quick blow dry.  Flat Iron.  And voila! Hair is done.  I think my days of long hair have officially come to an end.  Or at least a middle, ’cause never say never.
• There is a rat in my office.  A literal rat, not a metaphorical rat.  It was in Elle’s part of the building and now it’s moved to ours.  I am now ending this blupdate in order to make sure every single bit of food in the bottom of my desk drawer is GONE. 

• When I was typing the title of this blog post, I accidentally typed “issues” which sort of made me laugh because fruedian slip, much?
• I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.  Mondays don’t like me.  Tuesdays are friendly enough and Wednesdays and I are like this, ya’ll, but Mondays don’t like me.  Even Thursday and I are buds and Fridays are wicked good fun.  But Mondays?  No, Mondays slap me around and call me a bitch and then make me cry.
• Ordinarily after a play closes, I suffer from post-play-depression wherein I sit on my sofa during the hours I would ordinarily be doing rehearsal or show and I stare vaguely at nothing and wonder what I should do with all this strange amount of time I suddenly have.  But this time, I’m feeling okay.  It was a good show and I very much enjoyed doing it.  The cast was great-there was no one in it that I did not like.  I got to know one or two people I didn’t know all that well a little bit better and I met some entirely new people that are really cool.  But I’m glad it’s over. 
• Yesterday, my ex-brother-in-law friended me on Facebook.  It was kind of surreal seeing photographs of his family, including his now-teenage daughter who was born while I was still married to his brother.  R and I were friends before I ever even started dating J-we used to call each other all the time because he wanted inside scoop on one of my good friends, and I wanted inside scoop on J. I miss R.  He was a good friend, but it’s kind of weird in a way touching base with him.  Mostly because even though I think it was good J and I divorced–we really weren’t right for one another–for a long time he was my very best friend.  It sucked losing that.  Touching base with R is a reminder of what I lost.
• I get to watch Heroes tonight on account of no rehearsal.  I like Heroes.  I’m a fan.  It’s a good show.
• I downloaded Dr. Horrible’s Sing-a-long Blog onto my iPod and watched it again over the weekend.  I really love that show.  Great writing, great mugging acting.  Everyone is in one the joke and then Neil Patrick Harris turns in this gorgeous performance that sends a little chill up and down your spine at the end.  It’s a heart-breaking bit of goof-off-ery.  That Joe Sweden guy is so cool.

Well, here endeth the randomness.  Must do this thing called job now.

I am nobody’s mother.  Unless you count the dog and I am just enough of a crazy-dog lady, in fact, to count the dog.  But other than the four-legged variety, I am not a mom.  Generally speaking this doesn’t bother me.  It’s just that since I’ve gotten on Facebook and reconnected with old friends, I’m finding it astonishing how many of my old high school friends have children.  ChildREN.  Ergo, more than one.  One of them has eight; a few of them have five; and the vast majority have three or less.  And I’m sure that to a certain extent, they’re the ones envying me of my free time and ability to drop everything just to go on a weekend jaunt with my friends.  But they wouldn’t trade their kids for anything in the world.  They’re connected and that’s a kind of relationship that I don’t fully understand.  I can imagine it, certainly, but really, truly understanding it requires experiencing it on some level.  And I’m not talking about childbirth-I’m talking about the act of being a mother, which doesn’t necessarily preclude having never given birth.  So I’m finding myself, for the first time, envious of someone else because they’re a mom; envious of a relationship that it’s doubtful I’ll ever know.  I won’t say never, but the older I get, the more unlikely it becomes. 

Don’t misunderstand me-I’m pretty grateful I have the freedom (if not always the money) to drop everything and be the ultimate singleton.  But I was conditioned, taught, that being a wife and mother was a goal I should aspire to, something honorable.  And I do feel that way.  I have friends that are lucky enough to be able to stay home with their children and be a full-time mother.  I’m not arrogant enough to actually believe that isn’t real work.  It is-and very hard work too.  And if I had kids, that’s how I’d like to do it.  So I’m pretty impressed with their dedication and commitment to motherhood.  And just a little bit jealous. 

At the end of the day, I’d rather be single than married to someone who I don’t respect or who doesn’t respect me.  And I’m certainly appreciative that I don’t have the burdens of a single mother.  But I’m still just a little bit…jealous.  Is that okay?