Monday Morning

Another beautiful day made better by the fact that I'll be spending it at home, rather than sitting in my windowless office. Though KC is already complaining of boredom, and there's still a list of things to be done around the house, I'm of the opinion to take the day one moment at a time.

At this precise moment, we are watching home videos of Jordy's pre-school rendition of the Three Little Pigs. Which actually consists mostly of Jordan honking on a recorder, jumping up and down and readjusting her snout every other second. The cuteness quotient however is off the scale.

Until later.

Something On a Sunday

KC is amazingly still fast asleep upstairs. Something that is quite not the norm in this household as usually I'm the one playing slug-a-bug in bed on a Sunday. But it's nice, this silence, this little sliver of alone time. And though I know it can't last, I'm typing quietly.

Dad invited KC and I over to dinner last night, the usual Italian fare, which was fine with me as it saved me from having to spend unnecessary time in the kitchen, neither preparing or cleaning. Even figured I'd bring our own Romano cheese, as Dad never seems to have any around and of course, I had guessed correctly. As a thank you very much for dinner, I decided to leave the bottle there as an oops.

After dinner, Becky and Jodi opted for a bicycle ride while Dad and KC went for a short little walk. Normally I would have tagged along, but having just purchased (I told you I shouldn't be let out of the house with money.) the new Tori ~ Welcome To Sunny Florida DVD (Sorry Mike ... Did you really think this instant gratification girl could wait for a burned copy?) I wasn't about to miss out on the chance to watch it on the big screen with surround sound.

And it was marvelous. As well as very reminiscent of the concert I saw out in Syracuse back in March of 2003. The woman is a genius.

I do have to share one little bit of funny with you before I take myself off this morning to do chores and other necessary evils about the house. A brief moment dating itself back to yesterday while I was at HOME DEPOT inspecting color slides for the color of KC's new room.

We had just turned a corner, cart and all, loaded with yet another bag of peating moss and verbena, when we almost crashed head first into this really good looking guy. Making our apologies, we maneuvered around each other but as we did, I couldn't help but notice (the incredible mass of muscle in his upper body, the thick brown hair, short and spiked, the way he moved with confidence and agility ...) the fact that his pants seemed to have a little bit more than a blow out. I kid you not, he looked like a bizarre accident.


And when I say blow out, I mean that the entire ass of his jeans were hanging around his knees, leaving his entire hind end - clad in white blue speckled boxers - on display for all the world to see. (Hallelujah to the lord of bad fashion!)

KC however was quite puzzled, and as a parent, I wondered if I shouldn't do something more productive like shade her eyes, even as I tried to get a better look. KC however required explanation, almost taking it upon herself to go ask him with how loudly she was whispering to me.

Which leads me to the fact that eight year olds, even one as precocious as mine, can be deceived with even the tiniest bit of convincing.

Who knew that self air conditioning pants were all the rage with roof builders?

Money Like Water

One day into a three day weekend and I've already come to the conclusion that I've no other choice but to keep myself and my buying power safe at home.

I spent a small fortune, or to be better said, the last of my tax money I had tucked away for the purpose of putting a down payment on a new car. But as it turns out, new car be damned. KC needed a new bed much more than I needed that dream Volkswagen Pasatt ... Sigh.

It is however a beautiful bed.

Now all I have left to do is clean KC's room, pack off some items to charity and convince a few willing helpers they want to be invited over for a painting party. I have a feeling this is going to be much easier said than done.

Volunteers welcome!

Here In My Head

I am not thinking about someone I shouldn't be thinking about. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not very convincing.

How sad am I?

On second thought, don't answer that ...

Tori On the Wire

Mike brought me in the new Tori B-sides to listen to today.  A mistake to be sure, I want to ignore all the phone calls ringing into my office.  Inspired, I'm scribbling bad poetry on my color coded notecards again ... I'm working one on orange right now.  Perhaps I'll share later?  For now I leave you with lyrics. 

Ruby through the Looking-Glass

feel a little hand turning inside me
don't you think she feels us fighting
strike me at the root
I won't let you
put her through
what you put me through

when i said ---- I wanted it all,
doesn't every woman want it all ...

running through the house screaming
girl unstrung you could always play that one
Baptized of fire and
every beat in the bar
Hymns for her
feel her kick me from the inside

when I said ---- I wanted it all,
doesn't every woman want it all ...
as a man ---- do you find,
doesn't every boy smoke to cry ...

you could almost drown her waterfall
you could almost drown my waterfall

through the Looking-Glass, Ruby sees
things in you
things in me
she won't wanna be
just a little light turning the key
at the root, what I missed ...
she will carry

when I said ---- I wanted it all,
doesn't every woman want it all ...
as a man ---- do you find,
doesn't every boy smoke to cry ...

feel a little hand
turning
turning
Ruby

~ Tori Amos

Fancy Footwork

I am a complete IDIOT!

Somehow I forgot to pencil in on the calendar that KC has no school today. In addition to that, I've just been informed that the sitter sent a note home (a note I never laid eyes on) that she would be taking today through Monday off for Memorial Day.

Houston ... We have a problem.

I've no other choice but to call Dad and turn on the whine, so he can bail me out of yet another little snaffu. I am loathe to dial the phone, but there is absolutely no other choice.

Just call me daughter non grata.

Room With a View

Missed a post last night. Ask me how guilty I am feeling about that ...

Thanks to those who took the time to check on the status of my health ... I am happy to report that I am alive and kicking. Although I did promise my Mom that should the symptons arise again, I will be sure to schedule (shudder) a visit with the doctor.

Anyhoo, absolutely nothing has happened. Although work has been quite busy this week considering the Memorial Day holiday coming up. (3 day weekend.)

I did however meet one of my favorite customers today. He dropped in to say hello and thanks for a special order I rushed through for him. All I could think of as I stood there with a stupid smile plastered on my face was hubba, hubba, hubba. And though I considered proposing marriage right then and there, I opted to keep that idea to myself for the time being. (Mental note to self ... Flirt more often with Greg.)

Invisible Ouch

Something is not quite right ...

I've got a pain. A sharp shooting pain in my right side. It started out as a twinge last night, small enough that it could be ignored. This morning it was a little worst, worst than a twinge but not quite bad enough to prompt a day at home. Now it's bad. It hurts to move. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to think.

So I'm going to bed hoping to find it won't hurt to sleep.

Until tomorrow ...

Moving In a Forward Motion

The moping period is officially over.

No more sleeping the weekend away. No more calling up friends all hours of the night. No more pity parties with Kleenex, Bridget Jones and all her cronies. No more blaring loud angry chick music and singing along with every heartfelt lyric. Not going to do it, nope. I am officially over it.

And since I am officially over it, there's no time like the present to climb right back on the horse and take a new ride.

I'm single, I'm available and I'm back on the dating scene. (And coming to an area near you ...)

Shopping Therapy

Good morning, Sunday morning.

Still a bit of a sloth this morning, although I did manage to wake up a bit earlier than yesterday. I'm sitting here wrapped in KC's Mickey Mouse beach towel, hair still wet from the shower, thinking about what things I'll be doing today.

I suppose soon I shall have to call my sister (Amy) and see if she'd like to make a run to a couple of hardware stores with me to look for a new computer desk for KC since Dad gave us - KC- one of their spare computers. Also still need to find her a suitable bed frame to replace the one that was broken. Not much luck there as everything costs more than a mint, and the craftsmanship in my opinion in not worth the extra bucks.

As for last nights shopping trip, Bren and I hit a few select stores and managed not to spend every dime in our pocketbooks. I bought new dining plates at BB&B, but only had enough cash on hand last night for four ...The remainder of the set I've figured will have to be built one paycheck at a time.

But I like these plates. Glistening white squares, very simple and elegant to boot. Although I don't think Brenda was as keen on them as I. But lately I've come to realize that sometimes understated sophistication is far better than in your face I'm too expensive for you to even be looking at me artifice. So I got them and I'm very happy with the purchase. I guess there's some things I want to change around here and for some reason the plates seemed qood place to start.

I also bought a new shelf for KC which I will attempt to hang level today. It will be a nice surprise for her to come home to, to see I've bought her the display shelf she was begging me for on Friday. I'm so proud of my little one, she's the first in our line of women to conquer her two left feet ...

Anyhoo, I'm girl on the move.

Sleep as an Art Form

I almost slept the entire day away today. In fact, it was far after two this afternoon when I finally drifted back to consciousness and out of my bed, going downstairs to pour myself a large glass of juice, and munch on a thin slice of rye toast.

Normally wasting a Saturday in such a lazy fashion would set my teeth on edge. But today it just felt right to hide out under the covers and seek sanctuary from the real world in dreams now too fuzzy to remember.

There's another thunder banger overhead and it's starting to sound pretty damn intense so the details of my shopping trip with Bren will have to wait until the morning.

(SIGH)

Too bad there's not a man here to cuddle with ... It's always nicer to ride out a storm in the safety of someones arms.

Girl on the Go

A girl has got to be quick to post. Especially when her computer is just asking to be thrown through the window. (Don't laugh, knowing my lack of patience, it could happen.)

Had a fun night about town. Decided early on in the day that I was going to have a little family fun and take KC, along with my niece, nephew and added bonus of sister and stepmother to the movies to see Shrek 2.

Newsflash people. It's a sequel worth seeing.

Yet another thunderstorm brewing overhead ... I wonder if I'm too olf to play in the rain.

Ah Darn it All

An entire post wiped out two seconds away from being published.

Much too late to even think about retyping it now.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

The Taste of Rain

There was a time when I wasn't afraid of storms.

No reason to worry about the lightning cutting across the sky in brilliant flashes of white, or the sound of thunder booming and building again in a slow moving crescendo, like the steady roll of a timpani drum.

When the rain came down in torrents, I'd dash outside in excitement, my arms open wide to embrace the sky with joy. And I'd dance. Finding every puddle that could be found, my feet sinking deep into the grass, down into the mud.

I remember the taste of rain, the way it felt as it clung to the tips of my eyelashes, holding on for a moment and then like tears waiting to be shed, letting go to fall softly against my cheeks. Unlike tears, the rain was always sweet against my tongue.

Sit, Speak, Shake

Quiet night for KC and I. After picking her up at the sitters, we stopped home, changed our clothes and headed down to Dad's house to take care of the dog.

Taking a moment to refill her dish with cold refreshing water, I stood there debating on whether or not I wanted to try her for a walk, as KC pounded away at the piano in the sunroom.

As far as I was concerned, it was a win-win situation. The dog would benefit from the exercise and human interaction, and KC and I would feel a little safer when walking the nature trail near the house. Despite the fact that Sadie is far from being Cujo, I am quite convinced that a woman with a dog looks far more formidable than one who walks without. I did however come to some conclusions.

Though snapping on the leash was quite easy, walking with an untrained, undisciplined dog was not. After 5 minutes, I was quite convinced that Sadie was in desperate need of some basic doggy training. Ie: How to heel ...

Sticking her nose into every shrub, tree and bush, the dog was intent on dragging me behind her as I urged KC to keep up. Perhaps, I thought to myself, I was asking too much on day one. Maybe what the dog really needed was some love and attention before trying to turn her into woman's best friend.

So we turned around, and headed out to the back yard. Sitting in the grass, we watched as Sadie rolled around on her stomach, tail wagging with glee as we patted and praised her. Something about the way the dog looked at me, just about broke my heart. Her puppy dog eyes shone bright with joy, as if she was saying, "Yes! Someone thinks I'm special!" And I was tempted to bring her home ... Except for two reasons, (1) Emma (the resident black cat) would be none too happy and (2) Dogs are much harder to hide from the landlord than cats. (So much for good intentions.)

Chaining her back up for the night, I refilled the water dish again, scooped some food out into her bowl and promised to come back and see her in the morning.

"Small steps Sadie," I said to the dog. "We'll try again tomorrow and see what happens."

A Heartache Tonight

Would it all be the same - if I called and you came
If you could get here tonight

Why is it the moment you have a spare moment, your mind wants to think about all the things that make you sad and weepy inside.

I opened a book earlier and tried to read, but I could barely turn a page. Instead I sat there staring off into space, wondering what Sean was doing and whether or not he'd made it safely back home from dropping off the kids.

Not your concern anymore Stacey, I reminded myself. What Sean does or doesn't do, doesn't involve you anymore. Soon you won't even think about him, or remember the feel of his arms around you. You won't remember the wonderful things he used to say, like how cute you looked in the morning with your hair every which way to Sunday or how smart he thought you were. You're left only with the words he said last, words and actions that left you no choice but to walk away and say goodbye.

Sunday Morning Confessional

Making KC french toast sticks for breakfast from the freezer aisle rather than from scratch. Looking in the cupboards this morning, I realized that grocery shopping was no longer an option to add to my errand list of things to be done today. (Which is not to mention I'm out of bagels, and my morning routine just can't tolerate that.)

It's freezing here this morning, even more so since I left the kitchen window open last night. The back deck is wet with rain and even the poor birds visiting my feeder appear to be cold this morning, shivering in the breeze. Perhaps this will not be the day after all to get the garden closer to being done.

Dad and Bec left early this morning on their way to Baltimore for Audrey's graduation. I had promised I would go, but as usual Aud's lack of communication changed my mind.

There are times when I wonder how she seems to survive so well without the support of her sisters. I talk to Amy at least two to three times a week, catch Jodi on an instant message every other week or so, but when it comes to Audrey, lack any form of communication with her until she stops by home on one of her fly by night visits.

So I can't imagine how it will be this fall when she leaves for graduate school is San Francisco. It's hard to keep in touch with someone who seems to avoid any form of contact altogether.

In other news, my mother sent me a blast from the past picture in the mail of myself as a child. If I had any clue about how to post a photo on here I would. But for now a simple description will have to suffice. Naked, save for yellow terry cloth shorts, a green superhero cape and a non-matching Indian head dress with a vast array of different colored feathers, I am riding a kick-and-go (an older version of today's modern scooter) with a look of absolute enjoyment on my face. This is the note my mother sent me ...

Stace ~

Found this Friday in Jerry & Audrey's attic - must have been karma - it was in the first drawer I opened. Notice the wide shout of delight, the flamboyant dress. This is the spirit that lives within you. Let her fly!!!

Love,
YM

Sometimes my Mother knows exactly what to say, exactly when I need to hear it. Thanks Mom ...

Act 2, Scene 1

A strange evening to be sure, sitting next to the woman - who was almost my mother-in-law - making pleasant conversation. Years ago if you had told me I would be sitting next to Ellen, waiting for her son - my ex -to arrive with wife in tow, I would have laughed at the very notion. "You must have me confused with someone else," I would say, imagining an all out bar brawl, fists and beer flying through the air. Me, of course coming out on top, the victor.

But there we sat like gently bred ladies taking tea and discussed everything from the weather to astrology. She told me she had always wanted to be a dancer herself and was glad KC seemed to be enjoying taking her lessons.

"She must get that from me," she said. "When I was young, I used to tell my mother I wanted to be a dancer. But I married young," she sighed, her eyes fluttering closed, "And well, that didn't get me too far."

I nodded my head in agreement, tempted to remind her I was well aware of the damage young, ignorant love could do. "Yeah. I seem to remember your son choosing the door when KC turned 4 months old, to go shack up with his slut," I wanted to say, but bit my tongue, smiling my I can't wait until this thing is over smile.

Dimming, the house lights turned off and on to hasten the crowd to their seats as I glanced nervously around the room, scanning for any sign of KC's Dad. "Not tonight," I mouthed into the darkness, a silent prayer on my lips that he wouldn't be late, wouldn't miss a night so important to our daughter. But as the show began, he still had yet to take his seat.

If I had any nails to bite, I'm sure they would have been bitten off. It was hard to relax and enjoy the show without knowing whether or not he was there, knowing that KC's happiness could be shattered in that single second when she looked out into the crowd and saw the empty spot where a familiar face should be. I willed him to get there.

And get here he finally did, though too late for me to be very happy with his arrival. But it wasn't my feelings that mattered, all that mattered was making KC happy.

Perhaps I will finish this story tomorrow, as for now my eyes are closing of their own will and soon I will be very fast asleep ...

Center Stage

Up early this morning for a hair appointment. Decided to schedule it as early as possible since I'm going to be sitting in public with foil in my hair, getting the highlights that I'm sure nature had intended to but forgot to put in my mousy brown hair.

Unfortunately, KC has no choice but to go with me this morning, as I didn't even bother to ask my father how he was feeling about quality grandparent time with his granddaughter after last nights dance recital went on for over three hours in a very hot auditorium. (Yes Mom ... I took lots of pictures. And yes, you will eventually get copies. I'm thinking one hour photo tomorrow.)

Besides the stifling heat and the threat of a thunderstorm which necessitated the instructions that should the power go off, we were all to remain calmly in our seats until we could be escorted out, the recital was - as far as recitals can go - wonderfully thought out. Surprising since I haven't been all that impressed with the disorganization of the dance studio itself all season.

The assortment of colorful costumes, the talent of the children and the enthusiasm they exhibited, were enough to convince me that the drudgery of running KC here and there two times a week for lessons are worth continuing. A realization the selfish me who hates having to run around half of creation after a long day at work would rather have not come to.

But there it is. When you're a parent, you do things for the benefit of your children, rather than the benefit of yourself. (Even though you were rooting for soccer or some sort of musical aptitude to follow in your footsteps.)

Still, I'm quite proud of KC. She did great and didn't falter to nervousness or fall off the stage. Both which had me beaming from my seat.

But I must be off. Another long day ahead of us and another recital for her acro class tonight.

Do Not Disturb

Exhausted she thought about what things she could say, but realized the only words she wanted to hear were goodnight.

Sweet dreams until tomorrow. This is NWTLO signing off.