The Therapy Journals of the Fat-Headed Klingon Woman

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

I’m Leaving On a Jet Plane (I Wish) January 11, 2013

airplane halo

airplane halo (Photo credit: Sean MacEntee)

Hello all.  If it is true that I live in a state of emotional bungee jumping, as I once said, then today is the day where the stretchy band attached to me is pulled to its full length, stretched to capacity and I’m momentarily hovering two inches above the rocks.  It’s not that I feel down, necessarily.  I don’t.  I just feel a very strong urge to get. away.  I wish I were on an airplane somewhere that was taking me some place exciting and far away.  I’m remembering our cruise last June, how much I looked forward to the adventure of it.  I made a playlist of “beach/vacation/get away” songs and played it until I drove the kids berserk.

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Of course, getting away is not really a possibility at this point.  But in the interest of trying to find some way to make life more interesting, I left The Offspring a note when I left the house this morning.  (They were all still asleep, of course.)  I told them if they would work on laundry and finish the pots and pans today, we would try to come up  with something fun to do tomorrow.  I have no idea what that might be, as there is little to do around here, but I guess we’ll give it the old college try.

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It’s been a pretty good work week, really.  My boss’s out-of-town girlfriend has been hanging out with us.  We’ve accomplished a lot- cleaning, organizing, that sort of thing.  We received a huge donation to the program and I got a $0.50/hr raise.  It doesn’t seem like much, perhaps, or sound like much, but I just did the math and over the course of the year it actually will be about equal to, or a smidge more than the salary increase my boss got.

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So anyway.  I’m going to be mostly alone in the office today, and I am going to try to remain productive.  Boss Boy is taking off today, since it’s his girlfriend’s last day in town before she goes back to college.  But you know what they say about cats and mice and being away and playing and all that.  I may have to make a list and force myself to not goof off all day.  It’s pretty tempting when you’re completely alone in a huge old church building, stuck in a dreary-ish, back-room office, with nothing really pressing hanging over your head to do.   But that’s not what I’m getting paid for, so I guess I’ll crank up the iTunes, make a list of things to do today, and get busy.  First item on the agenda- write my paycheck for the week!  🙂

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Until next time,

D.

 

I Was Going to Give This a Different Title, But… February 14, 2011

Antalya ( Turkey ). Toilet seat used as flower...

Image via Wikipedia

Hello all!  … when I was almost finished preparing it for publication, I happened to notice that there were about a dozen other blog entries with similar titles already, so I had to go a different route.  As you (now cannot) can tell from today’s title, (Originally “Valentine, Schmalentine!”) this particular holiday is not my favorite.  That may be a slight understatement.  I HATE Valentine’s day!  It’s not just because I don’t have anyone to be all lovey-dovey-schloopy-mushy with at the moment, and it’s not that I have anything against chocolate.  Or flowers.  Or diamonds.  It’s just that it’s so commercialized.  Just like every other holiday, of course, but still… I think if you’re in a committed relationship where you are so thankful and appreciative and all the other wonderful descriptors they fill greeting cards with, then by golly, you should demonstrate it every single day!  Each and every day, you should express to the people you love exactly how much you love them, and not just with words.  Words are often easy to say and not so easy to MEAN.  Actions speak louder, as they say. 

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So in other words, you SHOW people how you feel and what they mean to you by what you do for them.  And not just in a ‘look, I’m sending you flowers at work so everybody knows somebody loves you and all the single losers* will get jealous’ kind of way.  It’s little things, like putting the toilet seat down, cleaning out the gutters (ok, that’s pretty big), getting supper started, loading the dishwasher, washing and servicing the car, or whatever. 

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I have to say here, that if I WERE in a relationship, or married, or whatever, I’m afraid my significant other would probably feel pretty unloved, because all I ever do anymore is read, mess around on the computer, and um… read.  I haven’t been doing a decent job of keeping the house clean or fixing lovely family meals or any of that stuff I’ve been ranting about for a year now.  I always have good intentions.  Oh yes.  I was going to make the whole family work on the garage yesterday.  The Beasties talked me into renting a movie, and my plan was to require that each one of us sort, organize, and empty one box from the garage before we watched the movie.  Well, not only did we NOT work on any boxes from the garage before we watched the stupid movie, we didn’t even work on any AFTER!  Be-cauuuuse… I was busy reading the book I bought from the same place we rented the movie from, and I couldn’t make myself quit reading!  What was this gripping piece of literature, you ask?  Oh, it was The Unofficial Guide to Cruises.  Remember, I’m still obsessed with the whole ‘taking the kids on a cruise’ idea.  Although even that has begun to lose its luster with me.  I’ve been reading too many message boards like CruiseMates and CruiseCritic, and there are a lot of negatives and a lot of complaints and just generally the whole thing sounds like a ridiculously expensive, huge disappointment waiting to happen.  But maybe it’s just my pessimistic nature kicking me in the teeth.  Or, again, perhaps it’s that I’m the Queen of Wishy-Washy.  Or maybe it’s just that I’m realizing the danger inherent in getting my heart set on all the details of something that is almost a year and a half away, and pretending to lose interest in the whole idea is my form of self preservation.  There is sooooo much stuff that could happen between now and then, stuff that interrupts life and turns it on its ear, stuff that makes all our plans go out the window and splat on the sidewalk.

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Not that I expect anything in particular to happen.  I’m just pessimistic like that.  On a totally new topic, I applied for a new job today.  On a whim, because I saw an opening posted in the store and thought I might be good at it.  It was for a Book Manager at Hastings.  I don’t know whether to hope I get it or not, because on one hand, I’ve been where I am for going on NINE years now.  I’m good at what I do, I’m familiar, I’m comfortable.  Sometimes, though, that might not be a good thing.  I can’t seem to make up my mind about teaching, although I have recently begun to re-entertain the idea of moving to Alaska to teach, like I planned before my short-lived marriage to RMB interrupted my Alaska fantasies. 

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Anyway.  The only real concern I have with getting a new job right now is with having to tell my brand new employers that I won’t be available for a week in late May/early June because we are going to Disney World.  They might question my commitment to my job.  But I guess they’d understand that these travel plans were made six months before I ever even thought of applying for that job, and if they don’t, The Macs will always take me back.  (The Macs- that’s my new nickname for the family I work for.)

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So I guess that’s where we are today.  We hate commercialized love-fests, we’re lazy and obsessed with far-away fantasies like cruises and teaching in Alaska, and we’re worried about issues with new jobs we just applied for online, ten minutes ago.  Thank goodness I have therapy tomorrow!

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Until next time,

D.

*PS- No, being single doesn’t automatically make you a loser, but DUDE!  That’s should totally be a Weird Al song, a parody of Beyonce’s All The Single Ladies, but it should be All the Single Losers!  It’d be a classic!  Al, are you listening!?

AND FINALLY… Happy Valentine’s Day to all my friends, family, devoted readers, and assorted others.  Hope your day is filled with one or more of the many different kinds of love that exist in every moment of every day.

 

The Great Catbox War, or Why Mommy’s Favorite Drink is Now Vodka November 4, 2010

Hello all!  The Thankfulness posts continue on Facebook.  Today I put that I was thankful that my children have to go to school and annoy someone else most of the day.  Of course I didn’t really mean it.  Well, I did at the time.  The little crumb crunchers had been driving me insane!  They get up in the morning primed for arguing and fighting as if they’d been listening to subliminal messages in their ears all night:  “Wake up and fiiiiiiight.  Argue with mooooother.  Sass and baaaaacktalk.  Piddle and daaaawdle.  Be late for schooooool because you take too long in the shooooower.” 

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One of the biggest arguments this morning was over The Dictators.  Our cats, Hitler and Mussolini.  Here they are.  Aren’t they just cuter than you ever thought evil dictators could be?

The Dictators, Hitler (b/w) and Mussolini (b/w/o)

I am ready for them to become permanent outside cats because they are stinky and obnoxious.  They make me completely crazy.  The bathroom that used to be the kids’ bathroom, the cats now have all to themselves because that is where the catbox is, and it does not get cleaned out regularly enough, so it stinks in there, so the kids don’t want to use it.  On top of this, nothing can be put on the counters because the cats climb up there and knock it off.  Furthermore, the Dictators seem to think that they have not completed their catbox business until they have done the rhumba, samba and cha-cha through the litter and kicked it all over the floor, so the floor is disgusting to walk on, covered in litter as it is. 

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Yes, I’m sure that makes my home sound like a wonderful and pleasant place to be.  (Obama moment) Let me be clear.  It is Daughter J.’s job to clean out the catbox, because she is the one who argues and sasses and says no every time I talk about wanting the cats to either go find new homes or just become outside cats.  They’re plenty old enough.  I really think they can defend themselves adequately against other animals in the neighborhood, and if not, there are plenty of trees to climb and escape. 

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So this morning, I opened the bathroom door to let the little nasties out of their nighttime home and the stench eminating from the room was barf-making.  We’re talking hit you like a brick wall and momentarily steal your ability to think straight!  So I gently remind Daughter J. that the catbox has reached its capacity for containing feline feces and is long overdue for maintenance!  But unfortunately, my wonderful children have taken much too long to roll their butts off the bed and get ready for school, so I tell her that despite the fact that the catbox smell is about to kill us all, she does not have time to fix it now, and because of her negligence, I will be taking care of the situation when I get home from taking them to school, and the cats will be outside.  Whereupon, she feels compelled to begin whining and begging and pleading and swearing upon her very life that she will clean it out when she gets home from school, and I tell her to forget it, that I am reclaiming my house, and to go get her butt in the car because it’s TIME. TO. GO!!!!

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In the meantime, The Boy is griping and nagging about something, and the longsuffering, but not often helpful Daughter S. is getting her stuff collected, and finally we get in the car, but stubborn mule Daughter J. decides to try to scrape the catbox after I go out to the car.  So I have to come back in and make her get out there, but by that time, The Boy has claimed his spot in the car and it’s always the side of the car that J. comes to first, and then there’s a whole fight over “scoot over v. make the other person go around” which has totally been argued to death a million times. 

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Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?  So you can easily see why I’m thankful for school.  And why vodka is eventually going to be my favorite drink.  And why I don’t care WHAT anybody says, being a parent of only one child is missing vital elements of parenting!  Oh, the joy!

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Until next time,

D.

 

 
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