Five Feet of Heaven in a Ponytail

I made a comment on someone's blog about love and how I felt like only I could love me.  And the person felt sorry for me.  And that is the second time I have done that.  I am kinda bummed.  I don't feel sorry for me, and I don't really feel comfortable making people feel that way.  I feel I am brave and enterprising and stalwart.  (We won't get into foolish or impetuous or wrong headed or whatever in this blog.  At least not today.)  I guess it is my perspective or my use of the word, or, perhaps, my own perception.

Recently I parted ways with a friend I have known for most of my life.  I had always said that she was a better friend to me than I was to her.  But, kind of like a light bulb went on in my head, suddenly (she said and did  stuff I totally could not fucking believe, and still can't) I felt like I was not the person she thought I was, and she was a friend to someone that was a stranger to me and I could not relate to it any longer. It is a huge watershed in my life, and weeks later, I refer to it and dream and obsess  about it.

In the car,  the other day, my daughter was 'lecturing' me on some thing I was allowing with my grandchildren, one of which (whom, who?)  lives in my home.  And I said, 'Well, I know I am an 'enabler', etc.", and brought up the old saw about where do you draw the line between caring and enabling, which is maybe not such an "old" saw, but has always been a good back up retort for me when I am being used as a doormat. and I said, "How bout we wait til this comes back to bite me in the ass, cuz I already did it and I know I shouldn't have and I really don't want to hear anymore about it right now."  And she said, "Okay."  And we just went on. 

Yesterday, when I was holding her baby, (the cutest thing you ever saw, no REALLLY) and I said, "She looks a little thrushy."  And Fran said, "No.  It's just milk."  And I said, "Okay." And we just moved on.

I have never had a relationship in all my many too many years, except for this one with one of my children, and sometimes that is a little shaky,  where things could be said like that and boing just move along with your life instead of analyzing the living breathing shit out of why it was said, and where did that person get that idea, and how should you react, and, Christ, increase my xanax scrip and give me an extra hour on the couch this week.  And, maybe I put too fine a point on it, but I think, if you love someone, or have love for someone, totally, it just has to be like that.   And you don't have to work at making it be like that, it just fucking IS.  And the respect and the admiration and the getting completely pissed off cannot be dealt with separately or analyzed or corrected.  The person has to know who the fuck you are.  Maybe I idealize myself, or feel I am more complicated than I appear to others, but I have been married to someone for over forty years who has no idea who I am or what I am about.  And he shouldn't have to think about it or define me to himself, he should just fucking know it or be aware of it.  I know if someone handed him a copy of one of my books and he read it, (and he wouldn't be bothered to read it unless it was titled  "Getting Down with the Kinghts Templar"  or "Sex and Seamanship") he would have no clue who wrote it, nor would he ever give it a thought.  He would just kind of mentally go, "Uh, huh."  and pick up the remote.

And I totally get that this is all about choices.  And that makes no nevermind here.

Here Comes My Nineteenth Nervous Breakdown

I got the courage to call and make a dr. appt. today.  When I was through my hands were shaking.  I had the same problem calling the dentist last week.  It is totally the phone.  I am not at all nervous when I go to the dr. or dentist.  Anyway, I guess I have to tell her the .25 Xanax isn't cutting it anymore.  I am sure I could go back to "handling" things drug-free if ithe shit wasn't piling up so fast.

I received notice Monday that my driver's license that I just renewed in April is being revoked so I won't be able to drive my wonderful Rendezvous that I love beyond reason, that we put $450 in last month and another $500 the other day so I could pass emission control so I could renew my plates for $112, and today we noticed the water on the rug in the car wasn't because I left the sunroof open, but, in fact, is pouring in from God knows where everytime we start the engine.  My driver's license is being revoked because I sold a car to my daughter's "boyfriend" and didn't take the plates off and he ran up dozens of tickets before I retrieved the plates.  Allstate called and said he was also in an accident, but Allstate took my word about the sale when I sent them a copy of the sales contract.  City of Chicago has received that from me at least four times, but they say I am still on the hook since Jody never retitled the car.  Can this be true?  It seems it is.  Chicago petitioned Illinois to revoke.  And they are.  So I am SOL.

Louie goes in next week for a myelogram (sp?) to determine the exact nature of his spinal damage to prep for surgery and, damn it, they better do a good job of fixing it cuz I have a  bathroom that needs to be  tiled.  We are waiting final word on the mortgage work out and trying to figure out why our electric bill is $350 a MONTH.  Dannie has to move back in,  If my dad tells the story about the lady at the DMV that demanded his DD214 for ID once more, I WILL jump off the porch, which I know will only maim me.  And my dog just pooped under the dining room table without so much as a 'by-your-leave'.

WTF

A New Service

I mentioned before how I can bring the longest comment thread on almost any blog to a screeching halt.  It is kind of the same dynamic as always having beautiful weather when I am in Florida.  I told my folks that whenever their community is having a string of awful weather they should pay to fly me down there because I have never had anything but gorgeous days.  I don't mean the two instances are at all similar.  It just kinda seems like it is a force I unconsciously generate.  And I am betting if I thought about it long enough, I could probably harness it and make my fortune.  Too bad I am too fucking old to care. 

In the meanwhile, if you are a blogmaster, and you are too polite to say, "Shut the f- up folks and go home," link to me and I will drop one of my little bon mots, and believe me they are little, and the conversation will come to an abrupt end.  This one site, I do not know how I ended up on it, but it is a bunch of stodgy philosophers and I get more hits from it than any other, and I have done it twice this week and it is only Tuesday.  They go back and forth with me a while then drop their pens and walk away.  But I look at my stats and it seems they enjoy it cuz they keep coming back for more.  Too bad that particular demographic isn't big on reading contemporary love stories.  I'd a been translated into German months ago.