When Steve Dies

My best friend, Charlene, and I have had many conversations about what we'll do when our husbands die. Usually it revolves around things are husbands don't enjoy now: crowds, travel, certain type of arts. We've talked about having small houses next to each other in a cooler climate. We've talked about taking cruises together. About never having to 'plan' another meal. And yes, about never having to do someone else's laundry again. LOL

It's not that we don't love our husbands, it's just human nature. Our jest on living without them in our lives. Which, is a very good possibility.

I was recently telling a male friend of mine about our plans. But I shared the fact that it finally dawned on me that we, Charlene and I, would be pretty frigging old when our spouses would die. Sort of takes all the fun out of making plans.

Bill's response was that we'd just sit around and complain about the stuff we 'would' have done if they'd just died off sooner. I laughed until my side hurt . . . he's right.

Tonight, I told Steve about mine and Charlene's plans to live next to each other after his and Christian's death. He surprised, and delighted, me by telling me he already had plans for after my death. LOL

Him and his best bud, Vicky, are retiring to her 700 aches and putting up homes at opposite sides of the land. They'll meet for Sunday brunch each week. Sort of wimpy plans if you ask me, but he'll go before I do, so I'll let him dream his wimpy plans.

Velcro Rollers

As any women with terminally straight hair can tell you, there is little more dear to us than an easy, cheap, and non-harmful way to curl our hair.

Most curling methods involve heat in some form or another and tend to dry out your hair over time. My stylest, last week, recommended I try the Velcro rollers that are so popular now. One reason is that they come in very large sizes; great for adding body to long locks. Another reason was the curl tends to hold longer than a heat generated curl. Living in a place as hot and humid as Texas, most heat generated curls melt away before lunch.

I did question her about the length of time it might take to dry, as my hair takes hours to dry after a shower. She assured me that she uses the curlers and has no problems with them.

I purchased several sets of curlers. While my hair is baby fine and therefore doesn't look overly thick, there is a shit load of it. (Yeah, I did go there.) It always takes twice as many curlers as anyone expects.

I took a shower about 7:30 this evening and immediately put my hair up, using a total of 18 curlers. Three hours later I took them out so my hair can dry before I go to bed, which is still two hours away. My hair is less than 1/2 way through it's drying process.

One more item to add to my freecycle pile in the corner.

Too bad, it sounded like a great idea.

The Price of "K"

I have an old cell phone that I purchase minutes for on a need-to biases. I've had the phone for three or four years, but not many people know I have it, or the number.

I purchased it as a tool to keep in touch with my girls after they left home. Both of them had cell phones and would text, or answer texts, even when you couldn't locate them near a land-line.

Being in a generation of people unaccustomed to texting, there was a giant learning curve, on my end, to even understand half of the messages I received. But over the years I've come to understand, and/or developed the ability to at least guess, what different acronyms stand for. But there is one abbreviation that just kills me: 'k'.

I remember the first time Tori responded to a text with 'k'. I felt jipped.

"What," I responded,
"I'm not even important enough to deserve an 'o'?"

"k".

What the hell kind of text is that to send?

It bothered me when I would receive a text that contained that one letter. I'm not even sure why. The feeling of negligence, as though someone was walking away and flipping their hand at you as they did so? The impatience displayed by lacking the time or energy to type in a 'k'? The cost of receiving a text that was no longer split into words . . . but contained only a single letter?

Who the hell knows. It just bothered me.

And like most things, over time, it ceased to bother me. In fact, I send at least two to three emails a week that contain only 'k'.

I just hope I'm not irritating someone else.

A Resume?

I had the most beautiful resume you can imagine . . . six years ago. Working at a publishing firm, I had access to free editorial staff to help tweak it. I also reviewed hundreds of resumes each year so if I ever saw something that impressed me, I'd add it to mine. It really was a work of art. And now it's gone.

A few weeks back I decided to apply for a job I came across and initiated a search for my resume. We've changed computers at least twice since I was laid off, so I was not to surprised it wasn't located on our current desktop. I pulled every CD and diskette we've stored over the last fourteen years out and went through every one of them looking for my resume with no luck.

Knowing I had to at least have a paper copy of it somewhere, I took the search to an entire new level. Every drawer, file, stack of papers in the house was sorted through. Then I went into the attic and spent days going through every box a single page at a time. Still no luck.

Then I got creative and contacted the last place I worked to see if they had a copy on file. A new company bought them out and they have no employee files dating back that far. Ba Hum Bug!

I contacted the Workforce Commission to see if they had a copy of it - I was on unemployment insurance for six months after getting laid off. No luck there either.

All out of options, I have to start from scratch. And truthfully, that might be a good thing. Publishing positions are rare and I don't expect to be applying for any, so a more generic resume might be better.

In working on my new resume, the biggest obstacle has been how to present the skills I've used the last few years while building and maintaining my small business. How do you break down the hundreds of small choirs into generic words that apply to the masses? (I've never noticed before, but the majority of the masses is 'asses'? LOL)

Here is what I have so far, let me know what you think.

• Designed and maintained small commercial website.
  
• Generated graphic products and cover art utilizing Corel Draw, Adobe Acrobat, and Adobe Photoshop.
  
• Laid out detailed instructions with four-color photos in Office 07.
  
• Process orders and shipped electronic and print products.
  
• Ensure customer satisfaction.
  
• Perform full accounting cycle.
  

Coffee With a Stranger

After deciding, a few weeks back, that much of my unhappiness in life stemmed from loneliness, I've made an attempt to find new friends. I'm more direct and likely to start conversations with people I don't know. I'm trying really hard to be more cheerful and outgoing all the time; to see the positives in life.

But the big thing I've done is post several ads on local networking sites looking for a coffee drinking partner, or two. I posted only in the platonic section and asked for only female responses. The responses have been few and not very encouraging.

My first responder came across very strong; maybe a little strong. But we talked on the phone for over twenty minutes and set up a date (a few days later) to meet. The evening of the date, we had a storm that took down electricity in our area and she called to say she might still be able to make it, but she'd call me right back. I waited an hour before calling her. She didn't sound like she meant to contact me. We agreed to try again later, she never called/emailed me. Didn't respond to my emails.

The second woman and I exchanged at least ten emails and once again made plans to meet a few days later. As the time approached I tried to verify it with her, she never returned my emails. Never heard from her again.

Today, I got an email from Leticia, stating she too was a stay-at-home mom and could use a break. We agreed to meet up tonight. And we did.

It was a little awkward at first, after all, we are strangers. But she was smart, funny, and fun to hang out with. She has two girls, age four and seven. She is a civil engineer and finds being a full time stay-at-home mom stifling, as I do.

We exchanged basic information. Enjoyed our drinks. All and all, I don't think it could have gone better.

I'll keep you updated.

Mosquito Ambush

After my walk this evening, I went out to water the garden before taking a shower. Bad move. I've noticed that the hotter I am from working out the more attractive mosquitoes find me.

I was outside less than half an hour and come in with close to 50 mosquito bites on my legs alone. And that was with me constantly slapping at them and washing them off with the hose. I also got two ant bites. Throw in the sweltering heat and I have to say gardening is loosing its appeal quickly.

I have a new batch of garlic oil that has been aging for two or three weeks. Looks like tomorrow I will have to mow the grass down and spray the back yard heavily. I hope they enjoyed their Misty Du Jour, tomorrow they'll be dining on the neighbors.

The Bribe

Everyone bribes their kids: to do their homework, clean their rooms, and be nice to annoying relatives. Sure, you can call it rewarding good behavior or an 'allowance'. The truth is, it's just a bribe. It works. And I for one, don't argue with proven systems - well, once I've tried them out for myself.

Something everyone might not do though is bribe themselves, mostly because people just go out and get what they want. Whether you can buy it right now or you have to save for it; you just get it. No bribe necessary.

My major malfunction in this area is that I never want to spend 'real' money on myself. I'll nickle and dime you to death, and Steve can testify to this. But I am incapable of going out and spending hundreds on myself with out it eating away at me with guilt. And it's not because I'm a stay-at-home mom. I was the same way when I brought home the bacon.

So, when I see something I really want - and it rarely happens - I find a nearly impossible goal and make myself a deal. If I can reach this goal then I can have the whatever. I've been doing this my entire life, unbeknownst to anyone, and it works great.

In my new health kick the last few months I have managed to loose over 20 pounds. I'm very excited about it since it's not been a diet per say but more about learning what to eat, what to avoid, and what a serving size is (and it ain't Super Sized). So for the first time in my life I'm looking at actually keeping the weight down and probably continuing to drop more. If I don't self destruct along the way.

I chose a weight that is still 35 pounds lower than where I currently stand. The weight will be harder to loose as I get closer to the milestone I picked. The longer it takes to reach the additional 35 pound weight loss the more the chance I'll just give it up and go with the flow. After all, how long can I keep Steve from bringing in cookies, pies, or cakes . . . and avoid them when he does?

So if, dare I say when, I loose an additional 35 pounds, I am going to . . . what? I've been thinking about this for weeks, trying to come up with the perfect bribe. Something worth fighting for. The only thing I could think of was another tattoo. I love mine and I'd probably like another. The issue there isn't so much the money as overcoming Steve's objections. Mr. "That would make a nice lampshade", doesn't like tattoos.

Then, today, we stopped at Allen's Boots in Austin and I fell in love with an entire line of cowboy boots: The Old Gringo. They are fun, flirty, bright, outgoing. They are everything BUT the boots your dad use to wear. I can't say I have a set that I'm more crazy about than the others, I'd wear them all. And wouldn't you know it, the cheapest sets run about $350 - more than I would ever spend on something for myself. Or would I?

Yep! A pair of Old Gringo cowgirl boots has officially slipped into the vacant slot as my reward for loosing an additional 35 pounds. I have no idea how long it will take me, so I'm not lusting over any one pair in particular. But I spent hours today on line drooling . . . and I took an extra long walk.

When I Grow Up

I've always been impressed with people who know early in life exactly what they want to do as adults. Whether that is become a doctor, a stay-at-home mom, work on cars, or fly planes. It's even more awe inspiring when you see these people take every right step in getting where they need to be. When you see them reach their goals and how fulfilled they are.

Of coarse, I hate them a little too. Okay, a lot.

How is it that one person can know from childhood exactly what they are destined to become and the child sitting next to them ever day in school has no clue. Has no clue in elementary school. No clue in Junior High or High School. Hell, how many people go off to college with no clue of what they want to be when they graduate?

I'm a no-clue person. I've always joked that I wanted to be a writer. And if there was a great sign in my life, it was that of writing. I wrote poems, novels, songs, short stories; all through school. I like to blame a lack of encouragement (or even freaking expectation) for my failure to pursue a dream. But maybe it was simply the lack of a dream.

After Becky, my sister, committed suicide a few years back I decided life was to short for "when I grow ups", so in the month of November I wrote an entire novel. Then I spent over a year working on it. At best, I'd say it's half way ready to be shown to a publisher. And I haven't touched it in six months.

My living sister (and yes, that is really how she comes up in conversation), Byjo, says that I have a fear of success. She swears that I seem to blindly go through life stumbling over great opportunities, or making my own, then as soon as it starts looking like it's going to take off I sabotage it. But, according to her, one day I will succeed despite myself. We'll see.

Even thought I love writing, any type of writing feels the need to create for me. The instructions I produce and sell on my website, the blogs I post here. I consider it all writing and it does feel natural. Comfortable. But I still wouldn't swear it was what I was meant to be when I grew up.

Will tells me on a daily biases that he wants to be a fireman and a doctor. He's been saying the same thing for over a year - which is a long time to a five year old. I'm left to wonder if he'll want to be an astronaut, race car driver, scientist, etc, as the years pass. Or, will he grow up and be a fireman and a doctor?

Then I think back to my child hood and realize even as a child I had no dreams. Part of it was that life was just tough. I did well to concentrate on making it day-to-day. Part of it was also that my parents, teachers, and relatives had no expectation that I'd grow up and be anything.

I prefer to think I just missed the big sign. The one-way arrow on the flashing neon billboard, pointing out Misty's destiny.

The good news is I'm not a quitter and I'm not dead. I'll figure it out. In the mean time, I'm still pissed at all of you that caught a glimpse at your signs in childhood.

Conflicting Parenting Styles?

When the girls came to live with Steve and I on a full-time bases, the adjustment was rocky for all of us. It wasn't the finance or space issue. Not the rescheduling to make sure someone was available as needed. It was that the girls had grown up to a certain parenting style; one employed by not only myself, but their father and grandparents. Steve's parenting style was at the opposite end of the pole. Conflict was going to happen and did, often.

The resulting strife nearly tore Steve and I apart and definitely damaged his relationship with the girls. My thought at the time was that they were mainly raised, they were use to a certain way of dealing with authority figures. It worked. They were not bad girls. They worked hard in school. Besides, Steve had never been a parent . . . so I figured it was just something he didn't understand.

When we talked of having a child together, I realized I would have to back up off my "this is our way" and allow Steve's child to be raised more as Steve saw fit. And I have. (Although, I doubt he thinks so.)

For five and a half years I have been the main parental figure in Will's life. I do the best I can. With my background and experiences, my main goal is to see that he enjoys childhood. I set guidelines (though not as many as Steve thinks he needs), and when I think Will needs it, I discipline him (just not as often as his dad would like).

A lot of things Will does, I see -- as a parent of multiple children -- as stages of growth and development. Yes, they are irritating, but if you just hang on for a few months they grow out of them.

Today, Steve and I didn't do too well as parents. Steve spent all day laying into Will for one thing after another - constantly. And his voice would raise each time. I left the room twice because I did not want to physically be a part of the conversation. And I want to point out that in each instance I totally understood why Steve was irate with Will. I just think you need to pick your battles. If you fight ever scrimmage, your kid will either never listen to you or you'll get so blinded by the trees in your way you'll miss the forest fire until it's to late.

After Will was in bed, Steve and I talked. He things I don't discipline Will, that I allow him to walk all over me. That hurt - as much I am sure, as what I told him.

I left him in bed and came to the computer, feeling doomed. Will is only five. How are we going to make a relationship, with this type of growing strain, last through his teenage years?

Searching the Internet for answers (and God, don't you love that you can do that?), I found that there are four basic types of parenting styles, and as you would expect, Steve and I have different ones.

The type of parent Steve is often results in well trained little soldier type children. They follow directions, do well in school, find a job. BUT, they are not happy, don't deal with with people, and are prone to depression - sounds a lot like my loving husband.

The type of parent I am often results in happy children with less depression, but no appreciation for authority figures or desire to exceed at anything. (Boy, I loved reading that.)

The surprisingly good news is that having conflicting parenting styles can actually be very beneficial for a child. They grow up feeling loved and supported, regardless of their behavior or accomplishments, but doing well in education and with choosing and sticking to a career.

But the parents have to learn to compromise. To never over step each other at the time of discipline. To discuss things outside of their children's hearing range.

Good for the child, hard on the parents.

Flax Whaaaat?

When you use the same grocery store for years you know where everything is located. Well, until you start eating things you've never eaten before. (Or, ever heard of.)

With my determination to improve my health and establish better eating habbits for Will, I've done a lot of research on the type of things we should include in our diet.

Side Note: I hate that word - diet. In this instance it was used to mean the food we partake of, not a restrictive way to loose a few pounds that will be back next month.

For the first time in my life the change in eating habits isn't about reducing so much as changing the quality of my life and the lives of my family. I'm learning to make smart choices and say 'no' to things I'll regret half an hour later. It's also a change I plan on making permanent. There is no goal-weight or event that I'm working towards.

I've been scouring the Internet for healthy recipes and information on eating better. I also purchased a new cookbook based upon the same concept. After spending hours determining this weeks menus and preparing a shopping list, Will and I were off to HEB.

Not only was our list long, but it was filled with things I've never purchased before. Things like flax seed. After my research I knew how good it was for me and I knew how to use it in my meals and snacks. What I didn't know was where the hell to find it; or even what it looked like.

I figured it was a seed, right? So I expected to find it with the baking stuff. Nope. Then I checked with snacks. Nope. I finally located it with the healthy bars - I still think that was an odd place for it. Then to top it off, you can't buy a small bag/box of flaxseed to try out. It only comes in 'choke-an-elephant' size and cost me nearly $10. I just hope I can choke it down.

Will and I spent almost two hours walking, rewalking, and rewalking a store I thought I knew by heart. I now know where egg beaters, soy milk, Kashi cereal, plain yogurt, turkey bacon, crepes, and melba toast(just to name a few things I've never purchased before today) are kept. And they weren't always in logical locations.

I also figured out that if your buying nearly every vegetable and fruit in produce, instead of the head of lettuce and token tomato, you really should save that department for last.

We walked the entire store a minimum of four times trying to find everything on my list. And asking for help? Useless. They had no better idea than I did where (or what) I was looking for.

I came home so exhausted I didn't take my walk to night.

All I can do now, is hope it was worth it.

Priceless

Yesterday was a great day!

It started with Will and I making Steve homemade strawberry pancakes and sausage and taking it to him in bed. Then Will and I went for a walk.

My best friend, Charlene, picked me up about eleven and we stopped by a new coffee shop. Then we hit Micheal's. They were having a great sale on children's activities sets and I stocked up for the summer. We had lunch at Soup or Salad and for the first time in weeks I ate until I was full - and still felt good about my choices. Then we hit a school supply store and half price books.

Took Will to Mc Donald's to play in the afternoon as it was over 100 degrees outside. Had a simple dinner and then had friends over for cards, drinks, and snacks. We had a blast.

I'd have to say it was one of the best days I've had in years.

Nothing exceptional happened. I didn't meet any celebrities. Won no money.

Just a pleasant day with people that matter to me. Priceless.

"Not brown, Momma."

I debated publishing this post as I hate to be seen as prejudice against any race. I grew up experiencing prejudice of many natures: That of being illegitimate in a time when it wasn't acceptable, of being from a family with a bad reputation, of having a mixed race family before that became the norm, of being poor.

While life was tough as a child, as an adult I can thank all the experiences and prejudice I faced for my complete and open nature to almost anything. I care not one whit about your race, religion, native language, sexual preference (unless it involves minors), or political calling.

However, this last year with Will in a prominently Hispanic school has tested my beliefs. Will was the only non-Hispanic child in his class. One of only ten non-Hispanic children in their entire pre-k program of over 160 children.

Most of the family notes were sent home in Spanish. Most of the time they would include a version in English, but you could tell it wasn't translated by a native English speaker. Sometimes an English version wasn't even offered. There were programs and classes offered that were only in Spanish. Now, each time it happened, a note was attached saying that if enough parents requested the class in English they would offer it. As there were only ten of us, it never happened.

Every time Steve and I attended a school party or function, no one spoke to us. Most of the parents would sit aside from us and speak in Spanish. Often, the teacher would join them. It is impossible to list the many ways in which we were slighted and left out through out the school year, but it was significant.

The only draw back I've noticed on Will's part is that a few months ago he started speaking Spanish. Only, not really. He just breaks out in weird noises like, "Sato mayi keppa toldo sepa." Then he translates it for me. He must just hear it a lot.

This afternoon I was tanning in the back yard while Will rested in his room. He came out and found me and asked what I was doing. "I'm trying to get a tan," I respond. To his 'why' I replied, "So I can be brown instead of white."

"No, Momma!" he cried, becoming very upset. "Please stay white. Don't turn brown, Momma."

It took me nearly half an hour to calm him down. Through out the entire afternoon and evening he'd randomly repeat his request that I stay white and not become brown.

Breaks my heart.

My First On-Line Date

I am very excited. Tomorrow night at nine, I will meet a complete stranger I hooked up with online at IHOP for coffee and a chance to get to know each other. She (and yes it's a female) called tonight and we talked for twenty minutes. We have a ton of things in common.

We're hoping to hit it off well enough to spend some time together every week; with and without our children.

Several weeks ago, it dawned on me exactly how isolated I had become over the years and I decided to do something about it. First, I looked for free classes or lessons in my area I might be interested in. Didn't find anything. Then I looked for groups that were near by that I could join. Nothing that interested me. (Well, some of the were interesting. Just not for me.)

Then I peaked in the platonic section of our local craigslist. It was a disappointment too. Every ad I looked at was about sex or hooking up. However, reading them became addictive - the shit some people will say. LOL

I finally posted my own ad and I was extremely descriptive in what I wanted.

I'm an overweight,
stay-at-home mom that just needs
to get out of the house.

Would love to find local female in same boat
who'd like to meet up for coffee
a night or two a week.

And I included my age and location. Three days later I got a response. After a few emails, she called. Tomorrow night, coffee at IHOP.

Oh, what should I wear?