Puppy Lovin’ July 22, 2008

I haven’t talked about my puppy dogs in ages, and it seems almost criminal considering how huge a part of my life they are.

 

Life with Twix & Rolo is… chaotic. 

Their schedule leaves much to be desired.  They are up at 5:30 a.m. ready for breakfast.  They get fed, we all go back to bed, and then they’re up and READY TO GO by 6:30.  There is the occasional weekend where they might let it go until 7, but that happens so rarely I can’t even think of the last time.

After breakfast, a morning walk, and some mommy time, the two of them snooze the day away until about 4 p.m. when they are suddenly awake with a vengeance.  It is impossible to concentrate on ANYTHING after 4 p.m. unless you can miraculously focus with a basset hound jumping in your face, whining at you, barking at you, or dribbling water all over the paper/knitting/laptop in front of you.

I used to think I stopped writing when I met Val, but actually I stopped writing when we got Twix.

These dogs are MESSY.  Their favorite thing to do is drink some water from their dish, hold some in their mouth and then dump it in your lap.  Or on the couch.  Or the kitchen floor.  Wherever, really.  On walks, Rolo’s belly drags through wet grass and dirt, and before we have a chance to break out the towel to clean him up, he is rolling on the carpet insisting that he can clean himself thankyouverymuch.

We can’t leave trash cans within reach of the dogs when we’re not home. 

Our cabinets have child locks on them to keep nosey noses out.  The front yard is littered with dog toys and tie outs.  God forbid you should have to get up to pee in the night, because you will surely step on the jagged edges of a rawhide chewie.

They play fight.  They fight fight.  They compete for attention.  They dig holes.  They scare mailmen and pizza delivery guys.  They bark.  Loud.  They howl.  Louder.

They love. 

Unconditionally.

Til ____ Do Us Part July 21, 2008

Yesterday, some friends of ours who are a couple had a fight.  They’ve been dating for 10 months or so.  They don’t live together.

So they have this fight that has one of them ready to break up and the other one frustrated and emotional.  Val and I were shoulders to each of them individually at various points throughout the day.

In the end, the four of us wound up ordering pizza and watching a movie together.  The fighting couple was snuggled together on our couch, and Val and I were comfy together on the floor. 

Then, this morning, an entry appears on one of the knitting blogs I read regularly.  She posts about how she’s been lonely and miserable in her marriage for a while now, and that just as she had quit her job and was ready to move back home and leave her life behind, her husband convinced her to give their marriage a second chance.  And so she is.  And it seems raw and tentative, but she has realized that marriage is worth the chance.

I have always told myself that if you truly love someone… enough to vow to love them for life… that you can’t just wake up one day and find that you don’t love them anymore.  You might not LIKE them very much, but love… true love… it doesn’t just disappear.

But back to marriage.  I think there are times when divorce is necessary.  Take my parents, for example.  They divorced because my father was addicted to cocaine.  My mother had a young child to worry about, and so it ended.  There hasn’t been a single moment in my entire life when I have wished my parents hadn’t divorced.  Not only did their divorce help me to be a happier, healthier child with a happier, healthier mother, but in the end, their divorce brought me my brother and sister.

I simply believe that the old standby reasons for divorce… we’re just too different… he’s never home… I met someone else… well, I have trouble believing that 90% of that isn’t just a crock of shit.  (As my neighbor would say, “Pardon my Jersey.”)

Ultimately, I will marry Val.  We will fight.  We will disagree.  We will meet new people, find new hobbies and interests, and there may even be times when our lives are pulling us in two completely different directions.  In the end, though, I love her.  When I marry her, it will be with the promise that no matter what, I will always be willing to try again… to work it out… to move beyond it… whatever “it” is. 

Three years into our relationship, I know that it’s all easier said than done.  I just really believe it’s worth doing.

Piece of Cake June 27, 2008

Sometimes, I can’t help but wish that life could just be easy for a change.  That everyone over the age of 25 would act like a true adult… that we could all respect each other, love one another and go about living our lives peacefully and happily.  It sort of makes me understand how so many people get sucked into joining cults with the promise of some sort of utopian afterlife in outer space.

I got to see my brother play water polo yesterday.  Dad was there and so was Val.  Unfortunately, my stepmother was also in attendance.  She had told my brother in advance that she said it was okay for us to come just so long as we didn’t sit near her or try to talk to her.  How’s that for mature adult behavior?  As if I wanted to be anywhere near her, anyway.  I would have at least said a polite, “Hello, how are you?,” though.

My brother told me that my stepmother wants me to stop sending things (just letters and cards) to my sister.  She said they make my sister cry, apparently.  Trouble is that I don’t trust a word that comes from the mouth of my stepmother.  I’m sure my sister does cry… if she’s anything like me, anyway, and I always thought she was.  But still… I gave her a chance to tell me to bugger off, and she hasn’t done it yet.  In the last letter I sent, I included a self-addresses stamped envelope with a little checkbox form that says to check here if she wants me to leave her alone.  She hasn’t sent it yet, and I know she received it around Father’s Day.  So I’m torn.

Do I listen to my brother/stepmother and back off?  Or maybe the tears are what needs to happen for her to be able to process all of this.  The only person who could answer that for me is my sister, and she’s not talking.  

When my brother told me to stop sending things to my sister last night, I completely broke down.  I’ve been fighting for this so long… putting every fiber of my being into finding a way to have a relationship with these kids.  They have no idea how I’ve fought… with my dad, with my stepmother… even with myself.

They were too little to remember how horrible my relationship was with their mother.  I was a kid, but they were babies.  The things they are old enough to remember didn’t come until later… when I was in my early 20s and had finally discovered that the secret to dealing with my stepmother was to essentially kiss her ass and play along with her little games.  

I’m just tired of it.  I’m tired of fighting to be with my family.  I’m tired of being punished for my father’s drug problems.  I’m tired of being caught in the middle of a failed marriage as if it’s somehow my fault.

I just want to hug my baby sister again.  I want to tell her how much I love her.  Let her know that everything is going to be okay.  Help her realize that it doesn’t have to be like this.

And today, I call a therapist.

Therapy June 15, 2008

I was about to start searching for a therapist until I discovered that I don’t even have the energy for that at the moment.  

Fortunately, I can go get therapized by my best friend over coffee (iced) for a while.  Hopefully afterward I’ll have the energy to find someone licensed.  Although sometimes I wonder if knowing someone for 14 years outweighs the value of a license.  I would guess that in some ways it probably does.

Today is Father’s Day.  It’s 90 degrees outside.  And the big news?  I just saw my brother for the first time in 5-ish years.  5 years.

Hence the need for therapy.  Or something like it.  Now if I can just get myself (mentally) into the place I need to be in to spill my guts.  Physically, I just need to get myself to Starbucks, which I think I can manage. 

Heat + Family Drama = 1 drained Molly

Weekending… June 8, 2008

This has been a weekend for the books, without question.  I feel relaxed for the first time in several weeks, and I’m actually not dreading going into the office tomorrow.  

Yesterday, we spent the afternoon at the Four Seasons spa having massages and soaking in the jacuzzi.  We had dinner at my favorite BBQ restaurant and I got to see my father genuinely happy for the first time in years.  He saw my brother yesterday for a few hours… the first time the two have laid eyes on one another in about 5 years.  Hopefully, someday soon it will be my turn to see my baby brother.  I keep telling him how much I love him and miss him, but I don’t think he could ever really understand how a part of me has been missing all these years.

Today started out with banana pancakes and mimosas outside in the sunshine.  The dogs took naps, alternating between the sun and the shade.  The neighbors stopped over and put our extra champagne glasses to use.  I spent some time knitting… flipped through the paper.  If every Sunday could start out like this one, I would be a happy camper.

Eventually, I will hang my new hummingbird feeder and take some pictures of my ripening tomatoes.  The Lakers play tonight and Val has a softball game this afternoon… we’ll bbq some hot dogs, kick back with the lazy Sunday sunset and enjoy life.

It doesn’t get much better than this.

Quiet Time June 6, 2008

Every once in a while, I find myself wishing for some quiet time where I can be alone to write.  Then, there are moments like this one where I have the quiet time alone, and I’m lacking the inspiration needed to write anything worthwhile.

Fortunately, it’s Friday.  Friday afternoon at that.  I’m home (early), and the work week is behind me.  I don’t know that there has ever been a week I’ve been so glad to be able to say that.

Now, all I have to do is unwind and prepare for what should be a lovely weekend.  Tomorrow is brunch and then a massage at the Four Seasons, followed by dinner at my favorite dive BBQ joint.  I love celebrating my birthday… I only wish it didn’t mean having to age.

I don’t know why 27 feels so much older than 26 did.  I think I really have to grow up now.

Wait just a minute… May 27, 2008

Not to bump my last post down, but I saw something just after I clicked publish…

Someone found my site by googling:  drink los angeles desperate women

SERIOUSLY?

I mean yes, I am in L.A… and I do drink (as evidenced by the title of my last post) and I am a woman… but DESPERATE?

Don’t get me started, buddy,

Fermented May 27, 2008

Today was the first day back at the office after Friday’s memo cutting everything from salary increases to the company picnic.  Not that I care about the picnic… I’m thrilled not to have to attend the stupid thing.

It felt different walking through the door this morning.  Very different.  People weren’t nearly as lively as usual, and the kitchen was empty (probably because they stopped buying food.)

My boss and I seem to be declaring a silent sort of war against one another, and in an instant, the atmosphere has become every man for himself.  People are worried about their jobs… their retirement… their livelihoods.  I can’t blame any of us for being stressed.

What’s most upsetting to me is this realization that we’re all having about how we’ve taken our jobs for granted.  I mean hey… I had it made.  A decent salary with a 2-paycheck bonus on Dec. 15.  Benefits up the wazoo completely paid for by the company.  A beautiful environment to work in complete with breakfast and lunch.

The way my company spends money, it’s no wonder we’re so broke all of sudden.

Still, in times like this I think people long for direction… for strong managers… for insight… clarity… understanding.  Unfortunately for the masses, we’re not getting any of that.  Not an ounce.  And so we’re rebelling… at least, I am.

But what do you do when your boss is your friend?  When you have nothing but praise for her as a person/mother/wife/daughter and nothing but criticism for her as an employee/manager? 

What do you do when you’re so frustrated that you want to claw someone’s eyes out and scream at the top of your lungs, “YOU’RE DOING IT ALL WRONG!”?

If you’re me, you come home to a mellow playlist on your ipod and drink cheap red wine until you can’t remember why you were so wound up to begin with.  I haven’t yet reached that point yet, but I’m only a glass and a half in, so there’s still hope.

Cleaning May 24, 2008

Is there anything more boring than cleaning house?  Days like this I wish I had a magic wand.  Or that I could be one of my dogs, who are lazing about with chewies as we frantically clean around them in preparation for tomorrow’s BBQ.

My brother might be there.  My actual, real life brother.  I keep telling people he’s real, but I don’t think they believe me anymore.  They probably think I’ve just stolen pictures of some random children from the internet at this point.

*yawn*

Back to the grind…

Adulthood May 24, 2008

Everyone in my company received a memo today that due to financial difficulties, an immediate freeze is being placed on all salary increases.  I was due for mine next week, so it came as quite a blow to me.

Naturally, the salary increase freeze was just the tip of the iceberg, and cutbacks are popping up all over.  It’s depressing, discouraging and a whole mess of other D words.

I made myself feel better by going out for Mexican food with Val and drinking a combination of margaritas and shots of tequila, until I actually believed that it would be a good idea for us to have our wedding on her school softball field catered by the taco people.  Don’t ask.  (Honestly…I really do think it would be cool.)

I sent my mother a text saying something about how it’s amazing how a few margaritas and shots of tequila will make you feel better about a crappy day. Her response?  ”Welcome to adulthood.”

I don’t really think it counts as adulthood when you’re drunk enough that you are lying in bed purposely giving each other hickeys in hidden places.  I mean seriously… if this is what adulthood is all about, I can understand why kids so desperately want to grow up.