this thing is still about things

This time of feel


This week has been a week of all the feels.  Feel free (<—- did you see what I did there??) to move along if you are uncomfortable with my feels.

I need more of these.

1.) I really hate it when people don’t like me.  More than that, I hate it when others tell me not to take it personally.  Really?  Don’t take it personally that someone doesn’t like me?  I appreciate honesty, even if it’s veiled honesty.  Things are not so easy to let go of when it quietly nags at me.  More infuriating is when I can’t identify what the nagging is.  Also, apparently, I’m what’s known as brutally honest and I may or may not treat people as lab rats.  UPDATE: I figured some shit out this morning.  I *am* brutally honest, about myself  to other people at least.  So you know what, I feel better about this situation.  I only feel bad because I feel like I’ve hurt someone’s feeling because I’m a completely oblivious moron.  To be fair, if they were my friend, they’d totally know I was an oblivious moron.

2.) I have been thinking of Boris lately because the kids never stop talking about him.  Robin said she wanted to get me a new kitty with green eyes “just like the real Boris”.  What do I do with his Christmas stocking?  If anyone thinks it’s stupid to be upset about this I will punch you in the throat.  13 of my most formidable years were with him.  I miss him.

3.) My favorite doctor in the world is retiring at the end of this month.  It was out of the blue to his staff and patients.  He has cancer and has been doing chemotherapy for quite some time and is scheduled to have surgery in the summer.  I didn’t know anything about this.  I bought him a Christmas ornament that I thought he’d find funny and wrote him a two page thank you letter.  Thank you for listening to me.  Thank you for giving my children their mother back.  Thank you for saving my life.  I’m such a crybaby I had to leave the gift outside of his office door along with flowers and a card for his receptionist.  There was no way I could say good-bye in person.  I’m just too weepy.  He left me a voicemail today thanking me and expressing how much my letter touched him.  You could hear it in his voice.  There is no way I can call him back.

4.) As a child, I remember always being ridiculed by my mother for being afraid of things.  My favorite joke that I share with people is how scared I was of Michael Jackson’s Thriller. Now, let’s be fair, I was 4 when this came out.  My brother and sister would have me sit in front of the tv when they knew it was on so they could turn it on and watch me scream and cry.  They never got in trouble for that even though they are 9 and 8 years older than I am.  That winter I remember being very sick and having to take medicine.  I was in my Mother’s room taking my antibiotics and the video came on.  I was so scared I threw up all over her bed.  It’s funny when you end it there but the part I leave out is how I got a good beating with a stick for my effort.

This morning, Josh came knocking at my bedroom door not long after the Mr. went to work.  It was barely daylight and I was annoyed.  He was scared because he was thinking about Mickey’s Christmas Carol.  He was afraid of Jacob Marley the ghost and his chains.  My early morning knee jerk reaction was to be annoyed and to tell him to stop being stupid and go back to his room.  But I didn’t say that.  I told him to get in my bed and cuddle with me.  Because he never cuddles with me unless he’s scared and while I’m thankful  that he doesn’t get scared so often, that also means less and less physical contact with my child.  I never get to hug and cuddle him like when he was a baby-baby.  Now’s he’s a BOY and feigns being ticklish and is sometimes actually ticklish.  So I laid there for exactly 12 minutes with my son holding him tight and being grateful for the privilege.  Thinking that every subsequent time would be shorter and shorter in terms of minutes and fewer and further in between.  I also laid there being so thankful that sometimes you do not become what you are raised to be.

5.) Tonight I am thinking of my Dad.  I need to backtrack–my stories are never so linear.  Robin woke up to go to the bathroom and could not stop crying.  For no reason really other than she was tired and she didn’t like the socks she had on.  She is definitely my child.  So, when she needs comfort, she wants me to sing to her.  So I sang Roger Clyne and The Peacemakers as I usually do and tonight I sang Green and Dumb.  Then I sang Mekong until she was asleep again.  Mekhong was one of my Dad’s favorite drinks and the song is about Thailand so duh I was thinking about my Dad.  Dad + sappy Roger Clyne songs = The Ashes of San Miguel.

I spun a bottle on the map to tell us which way to go
Now we’re hellbound south into Hermosillo
Got the ashes of my best friend in a cremation jar on the shotgun seat of the car
Got the top chopped off
Got the windows down
One last tour through our happy, happy hunting grounds
Though we never made a kill, that was never really what we came down here for

So give me a sign, amigo can you tell me
Did you go down laughin’ when you finally fell
We had tales to tell and songs to sing
Did you get your horns or did they give you wings
Either works just as well
Ashes of San Miguel

Well it´s a hundred and one under this fanatical sun
Them black-eyed federales drippin’ sweat on their machine guns
Sayin’, “…drive on slow, gringo, you ain’t as savage as you think you are…”
I bought a box of firecrackers and liquor to go
Vamanos, amigo para Bahía Kino
Everything’s here I got the pesos and the beer
Still ain’t no sign of your ghost

So give me a sign, amigo can you tell me
Did you go down laughin’ when you finally fell
We had tales to tell and songs to sing
Did you get your horns or did they give you wings
Either works just as well
Ashes of San Miguel

The desert’s lovely, dark and deep
And I got no more promises left to keep
But why
Tell me why
I gotta drain a bottle dry
Before I can cry
Before I can cry over you

There’s bones on the beach
And there´s ashes in the jar
Ghosts in the air laughin’ at us fools at the bar
And somewhere inside this river don’t run to the sea no more
Life is cheap here and death is rich
And he finally got you, lucky son of a bitch
And if I could do it again
I’d cry aloud at your hospital bed

So there you have it.  My feels.  It’s not all consuming.  There is plenty of normalcy in my daily life.  Like $65 Christmas goose.  A 3 year old girl screaming “I am the Queen of the Darkness Realm!” and a 5 year old boy being a cardboard tube samurai.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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