Thoughtful Wanderings

The gym was slow today so when I went to do my lunges around the track no one else was on it.  What’s today?  I thought.  Is today an even or an odd day?  Important information if you don’t want to piss any one off by walking on the track in the wrong direction.  I went up to the trainer’s desk, checked the calendar to see what day it was (the 2^nd) and then followed the direction of the arrow for even days.

When I was on my very last lap of lunges an older man started walking towards me.  He was mouthing something. I took off my head phones so I could hear.  In a shaky angry voice he told me that this was an even day and if I didn’t want to get ran over I better go in the correct direction.

Um ok, had I not looked at the sign correctly?  “All you have to do is tell me to go in the other direction.”  I told the man.  I hate it when people are upset with me.  I don’t exactly have a spine of steel.

“That would make me sound bossy” he said.

“Well you sound awfully cranky with me right now.”  I told him feeling a little shaky myself.

“I will buy you a giant cup of hot chocolate if I am wrong.”  He said so the whole gym could hear.

I became convinced that I was wrong.  We walked to the sign.  “Look!” I said  “It says even that way.  I was right!”  I couldn’t contain my excitement. I slapped him on the arm and asked “Now what did you say you were going to buy me?”  His face fell.

“I am so sorry.” He said.

“Awe, no you don’t need to say that.”

“But I am.”

He came up to me later and asked for my name so he could properly apologize.  He said it’s even worse when you are wrong at the top of your voice.  I tried to tell him that really, he didn’t need to apologize.   If he only knew how relieved I was that for once I wasn’t the one who had been wrong (at the top of my voice) and that how generally my mistakes are much more embarrassing than telling some one that they are traveling in the wrong direction on the track.

Sorry sorry sorry….sometimes no amount of sorrys makes you feel any less humiliated.

I volunteered in my son’s kindergarten class this morning.  I was morbidly relieved to learn that my kids aren’t the only ones who eat crack for breakfast.  One little girl informed me that she had lice.  After I backed away a few feet she reassured me that no, she used to have lice.  Um……

I accidentally made one little boy cry.   And I met my five-year-old son’s girlfriend.  What?!?!

Exploring an old mining town in Utah with my now 5 yr old. Then he was not quite 2.

All Three

Last night I saw the night sky for the first time in-I don’t remember.   Have I not been looking or have the skies been clouded up for that long?  That’s one thing that I love about this area; the sky at night.  The stars are bright and the moon is almost too brilliant to look at.  When she is near full she will pass by my window and wake me up.

The night I found out my step father had cancer she was there.  I stared at her and felt connected to something that I have trouble explaining.  Every thing solid seemed flimsy.  Life felt transient and small. Not in a depressing or desperate way; almost delicious, like I had a brief understanding of something…….

Seeing the stars last night filled me with a glimpse of hope;  that this winter will pass.  Not only the winter weather but what ever is going on inside me.  The last time I was sad like this was when my children were young.  Life seemed to be pounding us from all directions.  I am unsure how much of my children’s privacy I want to breach here. From experience I know that what ever I put out there stays there even after I’ve deleted it.

I will just say that my early years as a parent were rough.  My children had more needs than I could meet: far more.  There was this huge tree in our front yard that I would sit and stare at.  Something about her grounded me, connected me to what ever it was I needed connecting to.  The moon is that for me now.  I love her and feel that sometimes I am wrapped right up in her arms.  I am so glad she is back.

My 15 year old self waiting for a train to London, sporting a scrunchy.

Maybe.  Partly.  I haven’t felt this bone deep, steal your appetite, and pry your eyes open in the middle of the night sad for years.  Too much has happened over these last several months to process.  It’s not about my relationship with my step father who passed; that’s a separate issue.  It’s about life, death, and a rip in my current world view so wide that it’s going to take an Olympic size waste management team to clean up the mess.

Do you ever feel like life is so far up in your face that you have no perspective or that you’ve slipped down some funky rabbit hole where you’re the monster?  No? LOL…

Will I make it through this?  Hell yah!

Cheers.

Makes me think that some sunshine would be nice.

Look for a sane blog post soon.

When I see people auditioning on American idol who can not sing I think: How in the world did they make it through childhood without learning that they should not be singing in public let alone in front of a CAMERA?

I used to, up until my 30^th birthday (LOL), dance and sing around my house with giant socks stuffed in my shirt, fully believing that I was going to be a rock star someday.  Over the years I’ve learned that I can dance and act a little, but I will never have boobs (unless I pay for them) and I can not sing. I must be exceptionally bad because there was no way I was reaching adulthood with out someone  cluing me in.

In second grade we were all sitting on the bleachers when the teachers asked for volunteers to sing a solo.  Me me I thought as I bounced my hand up and down.  I was the only volunteer.  One of the teachers called on me, I sang, and OMG the look on their faces:  they must have thought a screeching cat entered the building because they were looking at me like that sound could not possibly be coming out of a human being’s mouth.

I finished my solo; the teachers said nothing.  A quiet girl, with brown hair and a green dress, raised her hand. The teacher called on her and she sang.  You would have thought she was an angel; they praised that girl upside and down as if she had just landed on their laps straight from God himself.

However, I would not be discouraged.  I continued my rock star training by prancing around the house using kitchen utensils for microphones and socks for boobs.  It was my mother who set me straight and I will forever be grateful to her for keeping me from the embarrassing fate of American Idol Reject.

One day, years later, she heard me singing around the house and said “I hope you plan on getting a day job.”  Or something like that, meaning basically: “You can’t sing, haha, but we all know that. Haha.”  Um not me, I thought.  I didn’t know that, not until now.

On the heels of that devastating blow another realization began to set in; those Barbie boobs I had planned on growing, were being a little bit slow in coming in.

“Mom,” I asked one day “when will I have breasts?”

“Um…probably never.”

Come back soon.