Monday, April 11, 2011

Weekend Ups and Downs

 It has been an ordinary weekend, but fraught with a little extra emotional intensity, I guess. That's how my life seems to be these days. I remember when I wasn't wandering around all tied up in knots.  Here I am, reaching out for a different life and wondering if it is going to bite my hand off.  Must. Focus. On. Best. Case. Scenario.  And no matter how it turns out, what do I need to hang onto?  I CAN manage on my own.  I will continue to laugh at life; I will cherish my friends; I will try new things; I will work hard in the service of others; I will take care of my health; I will love my kids.  Maybe we will get a cat. 

I have used this blog up to this point to say mean things about CB.  When I viewed it as a break-up blog, that seemed OK.  But it is time to go public with the truth about CB:  he is a good person 96.4% of the time.  And I didn't realize it until he pointed it out to me, but he has his own TV show in Canada.  He was very modest not to tell me sooner. 

I will try to portray him in a manner that is balanced and fair after this.   

We spent a few hours talking on Friday; catching up on our thoughts a little, and slowly combing the tangles out of our misunderstandings.  He brought me Ursa, an ultra-tough super-anti-hero in full possession of all her powers.  According to CB, she looks a little like me.  Hmmm...  I have better tits.  But her hair is perfect, not chronically higgledy-piggledy, like mine is.  She also has shades, which I have not, at the moment.  I read the packaging and laughed.  Ursa hates all men!  Except General Zod. 

She is probably going to have a very busy week at work, but in the meantime, she directed her super-powers at the laundry.  She's not great at folding ("Fools!  Have you no minions stupid enough to crease clothing into squares for the benefit of children?!")  She likes using the dryer though, because she can use her kick-ass martial arts moves to flip the "on" switch.
 I have heard very little from CB over the last few days.  He has a friend who makes emergency shelters out of shipping containers.  They are getting one ready to ship to California on Monday, and there is a lot to do. 

Friday night was poker night. Those of us who need to practice to get the game settled in our heads convened; along with Mel, who actually knows what she's doing.  I've got it down, now!  We just need to work on our poker faces.  Let me explain:  we enjoy being dweebs on occasion. We are actually getting pretty good at Texas Hold 'Em, and could maintain excellent poker faces if the stakes were even a LITTLE higher than M&Ms.  The LDS ladies won't play for money, or they would have to tell their bishops.  As it was, Moira discovered too late that she was absent-mindedly eating her assets.

 It was this face of Corinne's that just about drowned me.  As it was, the back of my nose was seared by tequila and I almost had to go to the ER.

 Here, Tika looks WAY to happy about her hand.

That's better.  This is the face that Sara hates.  She is terrified of Tika.  Three years ago, Sara went to Guadalupe for a summer school program, and was surprised at how much stricter the teachers are there.  Tika is one of the strictest of the strict.  Even Tika's epic Girl Scout Cookie purchase this year did not soften Sara's heart.  I didn't tell Sara that Tika was coming, so the look on her face when she answered the door was priceless. 

How much you wanna bet that I will be enlisted to stuff a Cabbage Patch head in Tika's mailbox or some such thing this coming week?

Mel, as always, is cooler than the rest of us, and pulls off a truly Sphinx-like expression.

Saturday was snowy, and all soccer matches were cancelled.  This was great news for me, as one of the coaches had called me, looking for volunteers to arrive at 8:00 AM to shovel the pitch.  I slept in, which seems to be my way of avoiding emotional turmoil.  Simon and I had spoken on the phone the night before,and he is anxious for me to tell him whether I want a divorce.  He is tired of stewing over it and wants to move forward. I can't say that I blame him, of course.  Per the post I wrote earlier today, we are going to go ahead, but this is not a decision I have made lightly or without considerable guilt and fear.  Sleep is an escape from the emotion.

I ran 12 miles on Saturday afternoon, and had to run all of it on the indoor track, since the snow outside was landing on my lashes and blinding me.  One week until the Salt Lake City Half-Marathon. Will I be running the fucker in the snow?  After Thanksgiving, I deserve to be warm!  My fantasies of beating last year's time are fading:  pfffffft.  I was flakey and undisciplined due to de-tox related issues.  Still, no lasting side effects from the long run, except for a slightly sore right hamstring and a splitting headache.  Must drink more.  Oh, and one of my toes on my right foot refuses to flex today.  Must've pulled something tiny in there.  But I'll be fine as long as it isn't freezing. It's not just the race I have to think of:  if last year is any indicator, I could freeze to death while waiting for them to find my gear-bag at the finish line.

Today, I took the kids to see Rodrick Rules.

The books are actually pretty funny and my kids' copies are totally dog-eared.  Here is the illustration of Rodrick's van that he uses to haul shit for his band, Loded Diper. 

The kids and I laughed  our butts off at the movie, but for different reasons.  Grown-ups who (like me) are middle children will find a lot of spot-on commentary.  Rodrick IS my brother Charles.  The part where Rodrick picks up Greg from school in his van and drives home like a maniac?  YES!  The clothes, the hair, the muttered threats, the blackmail.  Charles is nine years older; and I was small for my age, and portable.  He used to love dangling me over the bannisters; or holding me over pots of boiling water while my mother admonished, "Oh, for heaven's sake, Charles."  And like Rodrick, Charles occasionally came through for me. Once he shoved me down into the passenger foot-well in the station wagon and roared through the neighborhood, hunting for a bully who had been giving me a hard time; squealed up to the curb where the kid was standing and made the kid just about wet himself.  The pluses and minuses of having a much-older brother... 

Si got home this evening from Colorado, and we didn't even have to have "the conversation".  We said enough on the phone last night.  As he sometimes does, he brought me a present: a pair of pale green earrings made by his friend Maxine.  I cried because he doesn't need to be nice to me; and it is probably the last present he'll give me.  Tomorrow, we'll get the wheels rolling again. 

1 comment:

  1. I am the mom from Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Oh yes. Shane breaks everything, but its the older kids fault for leaving it out...GUILTY!! I just got new glasses and my oldest told me that I looked like her. I'll take that compliment.