Thursday, December 16, 2010

I love Prudie

Dear Prudence,
My boyfriend of two years says that he will not ask me to marry him unless I take a lie detector test to pinpoint the truth about certain things that have gone on in our relationship. I have been faithful and honest to him throughout the time we have been dating, with the exception of getting caught in some white lies about things that occurred before we were together. He says that if I have lied about little things, then I could lie about big things, and he needs to know he can trust me. I've always been of the mind-set that what happened before you were with your partner is not really their business and doesn't affect the relationship. I refuse under any circumstances to take the test. I've made sacrifices and compromises to keep him happy, but his request is completely unreasonable, isn't it? Is it a sign of overall problems? What should I do?

—Am I Crazy?


Dear Crazy,
Your boyfriend is onto something. Before committing to marriage, I think everyone should have their sphincter activity monitored in response to important questions. That way, you establish a baseline of trust. So surely your boyfriend would be willing to be hooked up to a lie detector and asked the following: "Are you a pathologically controlling sicko?" "Do you think of yourself as more of a boyfriend or parole officer?" "In your best judgment, would marriage to you be a living hell?" I'm going to assume that you got caught in some "white lies" because your boyfriend was prying about previous lovers and you knew from experience that if you gave him any names, you would be mercilessly grilled. You should have just told him, "This is none of your business." But as you've discovered, the longer you stay with a crazy, manipulative person, the more you lose touch with normal behavior and begin to doubt your own sanity. Your boyfriend has done you a great favor by insisting on the lie detector. This has revealed to you that the most important question to be asked is the one you put to yourself, which is "What did I ever see in this lunatic?"





Yesterday, I forgot to relate a rather morose detail from the weekend. She's been upset at my lack of sex, swearing my menopausal behaviors to actually mean I am cheating. This weekend, I decided to put my brain over my body and give instead of receiving. When she asked if she could touch me (I never let guys touch me when doing them, either, b/c then I begin to think about that and not them and become selfish), I told her no, that she was the focus. She got angry. I said I was starting my period and I just wasn't interested in me.


Then she said it.


"Let me see your tampon."


It's a classic line I will get to use in couple's therapy as I regain dignity. My therapist was aghast when I told her yesterday. There is some entertainment value, anyway.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Email hostage

Although her paranoia certainly predated the more severe version of the recent past, I finally found out the real cause this weekend, beyond her paranoia related to having a lifetime of female scoundrels in her presence, people who lie and cheat with abandon, people who have AIDS and do not inform partners, people who routinely engage in illegal activities that Bea seems to condone, with Bea also doing some illegal crap in there to boot.

So, when she read my email folders at least a year ago as I stupidly left the computer on (hmmm, I should review the blog for the dates), there was more in them than I recalled. After I'd learned she read anything from Richard or Lyd, I deleted everything, so I had no concept of what she read.

That's where she and I differ. I learned this weekend that she has them ... and I don't. During her foray, she forwarded all the emails to herself. She claims to have *only* read them five or six times, but she seems to have them committed to memory.

I have readily admitted to my transgressions here and I honestly admit that all were not transgressions to me. However, I have been nothing but faithful to Bea, although I do understand how one could be driven to cheat now.

So she's read and re-read my emails, has gone through my computer's pictures, has routinely gone through my phone, and a vertical folder of old and personal cards, etc, but somehow I am the bigger scoundrel in this b/c I had a life before her. I keep reminding her to wait another 20 years and see what kind of stuff she winds up doing after broken marriages, engagements, plus dashed dreams of additional children and my own picket fence. Yeah, one tends to react to life when one fights with all of one's might not to just hide under a rock. My life didn't go the way I wanted, so I carved out another life. I have succeeded on my own.

Life. That's my concern. She has Richard's email address, so she has both his name and his recognizable work location. How much of his life is she willing to wreck over two incidents that do not affect her in the least? Over a person I have not spoke to in over a year and a half?

My therapist asked why I would be willing to go through couple's therapy with her. I replied that some ego is involved. I'm not a bad person. I am not how she paints me. My therapist and Bea as well wonder who she knows b/c it obviously isn't me. Well, I deserve some validation about that. I'm not the bad guy here and I don't deserve to be treated as such.

When I asked her to delete the emails, she said she only would after we take them to therapy. She wants a firing squad and I have no idea if she has or has not sent them on to other email accounts just to dodge her promise to delete them.

Things aren't good, but my back is against the wall here. I have to find a couple's therapist.

Tuesday, December 07, 2010

I want to connect with you

I think I am out of touch and I really don't like it. My Google Reader is great, but it is so large and cumbersome that I don't know who I read anymore. It is not up to date or reflect who I want to follow..

If you have a blog I should be reading, let me know. For every one I add, I'll take another off.

Wednesday, December 01, 2010

A dilemma

So I have the opportunity to reunite for lunch (routinely) with at least half a dozen moms from the moms group I was a part of a decade ago. Back then, I was very active, a leader, and a guest speaker twice. For part of it, I was married, but essentially single, and for the rest I was actually single. I left after about five years when my membership was up and my enthusiasm had whittled down. Mostly, my son had started school and I had little in common with new members and their new babies.

Therein lies the rub.

A number of this lunch club spit out babies at will or several had them by accident. One in particular (loathe is too nice a word) trapped her poor husband into procreating without appropriate notice for her last two...out of five. At an after-meeting with just her, another mom, and me, I once told her that I could hit her in the face after another one of her rubs. And I could have. She knew I suffered with infertility and yet took every chance she could to remind me of her fertility.

Sorry, but I tell few that I am atheist, however if you carry on about your religion to me repeatedly in a holier than thou fashion as if it is the only life choice, I will offer an alternative viewpoint. Strongly.

In either situation, I am strangely viewed as the bad guy, which is something I am trying to prevent this time. See, I was the poor single mom who did not have a hubby daddy to buy me a McMansion and a Lexus. Fine, I don't see any of that changing. What did change, though, in addition to many years of reading and crying with infertility blogs, was my art emphasis, my professionalism, and my esteem.

In fact, the only reason I learned these moms still get together was because the nicest among them saw my art at my gallery over Thanksgiving and took the time to look me up and email. Then she asked if I'd be interested in lunch, which of course should not be as earth-shaking as it feels.

Bea accuses me of too much self promotion, considering it akin to attention seeking, but I call it appropriate marketing b/c I am a small business. If I were to go to a lunch with them, I would have to let the babies, riches, new cars, and grand houses all fall to the side, b/c I would get to toot my own horn about something special I was born with and am taking the time to capitalize on. I would not care about their viewing my art or a sale and would never elaborate on the snicker-value of sexual orientation. I just would want them to know that I am in national shows, win awards, get juried in exhibits routinely, and have my own juried gallery position(s). (There may be another coming.)

The art part feels good. Revisiting infertility, or rather the massive fertility of others, does not. Which would you choose?

Monday, November 15, 2010

I feel like it's getting to me

I am beginning to drown, even as I fight it so hard. I fear the darkness coming.

There's too much stress.

The kitchen drain. I can't pay for a better plumber than a kitty litter bucket. Someone (a lawyer) actually clicked "like" on fb when I put that lament. People really don't understand when your house is falling down around your head.

The horrible appliances. On Sunday, my mother called to brag about her new ones being delivered next week. She did a complete and beautiful remodel a few years ago when she bought this new place, so this has been in the works. Her call came only days after I commented to her that I am sick that my parents and grandparents all have had standards of living higher than mine. She replied that hers is higher b/c of her inheritance from her mother. And I am left to wonder why I got none. Why I am always deprived. Why I am left out. Why is my stove from 1979? I don't invite any of them up and they take it personally. Maybe I should flip that thought and invite them so they can see how hard we have it.

Bea thinks I think I deserve too much.

My life's watchword is deprived. I don't get what I want, even all along from the people who were supposed to care for me. It makes me more ambitious and it is held against me in different ways.

No flooring. Have largely been without carpet downstairs for six or seven years. Yes, concrete is just lovely. And warm. Fuck this county and their fucking flood they would not own up to causing.

Parents with all they want and no consideration for their children, except for peanut incentives. It's not so hard to think of my father that way, b/c he doesn't care, but it's hard to think of my mother throwing scraps my way in the form of airline tickets to visit her, which is darned self-serving.

Spending so much on going to the funeral. And it took so much from me physically - almost two dozen hours of driving. My father gave me $50 for gas and I told him it would cover about half; he seemed surprised at that somehow and I was bewildered at his surprise. Then the next day, he gave my sister $50 for gas, but hers cost less than $10, so it wasn't for gas and I wasn't special or actually being cared for. He spent about $100K on his back yard in the last year w/the outdoor room, garage, and workshop. He's living it up! He does not care about me, just that I show my face at his mother's funeral.

Spending so much on trying to display paintings. In the past few weeks, it's another $100 to make coverings for the display panel racks. And more frames, especially small ones for small works. Damn Michael's coupons and double coupons.

Peanuts. My needs are peanuts. Honestly.

Still needing to make panel covers.

Coordinating the holidays w/o success. My mother wants us down, but J goes to his father's at noon on Xmas, so it is limited. Bea flew into a rage when my mother called to ask us down. Bea never communicated what she wanted beforehand and I was noncommittal with my mother; last year, Bea went to my mother's and then left me in a huff the week after to go to the Bahamas for a week. I cannot depend on her. I do not trust her. Yet, I am supposed to keep her on the list of people to juggle and please.

She thinks she's supposed to come first and that's what normal couples do. I'm here to say that my marriage revolved around visiting his maternal grandparents, his mother, his father if we could find him, his other grandfather if we could fit him, my mother, my father, and my grandparents. And this was supposed to be a fun holiday or even a quick weekend! It was not fun for us. It was for them and they expected two visits each time we went to our hometown! It's how life is. At least they were all in the same town and gas was cheap.

I am not Christian, people. Xmas is not my holiday. I do not care anymore and my only expectation is to not have to be unexpectedly alone.

Trying to do what everyone else wants. I am lost in this. Today I had it thrown in my face that she'll ask about getting together and I'll say that I need to ck my schedule, that her living closer means we should see each other more. Heck, she can come to any drop off, pick up, or Opening she wants to! She's mad at me when she excludes herself!

It isn't out of meanness for me to check my calendar. It is out of consideration. It is what normal people do. Her schedule is not normal and mine is sparse, but I do, for example, need to deliver and pick up paintings according to others' schedules. This week, besides therapy and my son's school schedule, it is a relatively busy one in that I have a drop off on Tuesday evening, a pick up Thursday evening, and a combo on Saturday. All told, it's less than six hours max and completely reasonable. If at all possible weather-wise, I will paint out with a friend, so my official work hours total less than 10 for the week, because I can squeeze in painting fixes/finishing anytime and I don't need to begin framing again until next week. My stuff is flexible and, if it isn't, it doesn't take too long.

I am ambitious. I have been showing less than two years. I average 1-2 sales per month. That's pretty damn good. I sure would appreciate support instead of competition and jealousy about it.

Bea's current fb status.

“Those who do not hate their own selfishness and regard themselves as more important than the rest of the world are blind because the truth lies elsewhere”

Apparently I am selfish and pompous and blind, b/c my mother wants us to come down two years in a row, b/c I paint out with a friend about twice a month on Thursdays, b/c I participate in art shows which actually influence little else and take little time, b/c b/c b/c. I honestly feel like the most unselfish person in the world. I cannot fathom if I had a 50h+commute job each week.

I wrote her a note and said her status must be about herself, b/c I am not selfish in the least.

Wanting happiness and thinking I'd be successful at it if alone, but sadness and frustration win over. I had a fb conversation with an old guy friend from hs. His sister and mother have died over the past few years. When his sister was ailing, one of her friends got her claws into my friend. He resisted for a very long time, but wound up being grateful for her caregiving. Now he's miserable and it's been something like four years; his mother's been gone a year. He's suffered significant losses, yet felt such responsibility to this stalkerish woman, whom he cannot please. Now he feels like he's had enough and I commented that the holidays make it tough. He said it would be January. I agreed, for me, although I probably said the same thing last year. In my case, when it's good, it's good, but I never know what's lurking. And then it's bad.

I always seem to manage on my own. Deprived and depraved, I muddle through. I am not stronger or happier. I am just surviving, but it's getting to me.

Tuesday, November 09, 2010

New Kid on the Block

We got a new cat. He and his already adopted sister were rescues turned into the Humane Society several months ago when his owner was going away for a mere 10 days. He's solid black and three years old. He's huge, but skinny. He could be formidable if he tried. However, he doesn't try. I call his digs in J's bedroom "The Presidential Suite" b/c Malc takes all his meals, toileting, and bedding in J's room.

We always try to introduce cats slowly, leaving them alone in J's room for two days. By then, everybody can't wait to meet. Problem is, Malc was too slow to change gears and the others are now ignoring his repeated hisses, choosing to chase him back into his room instead. The others were very gracious and sweet in their efforts for over a week.

We got him b/c he was accustomed to living with and sharing a cage with other cats, but he's not a cat's cat.. He was also very affectionate with the HS staff. If I go to the top bunk, he is also affectionate with me. He purrs and flops around, but I've not pet him outside The Presidential Suite, although he has left it a few times for little bits.

I hope he comes around soon. It's been two weeks. At least this is better than Memph, who lived under my bed for 9 months. Bea suggested closing J's door and forcing Malc out, but I'd rather he be where he feels safe and I know his alternative would be under my bed. BTDT.

In short, Malc really likes his new, big, Presidential cage. I think he is happy. He's a sweet and well-behaved cat. Also J always wanted a cat to be *his* cat and I think Malc is vying for the title.

Tuesday, November 02, 2010

Hello and goodbye

First off, Val, it is lovely to hear from you. I actually bought an envelope for your stuff in past few days. Here's hoping I can use it for you soon. Very sorry about the funeral, but it sure is cool and fitting somehow to set off to one by horse.

Secondly and on a similar note, my grandmother is dying. I am thrilled I pushed for J and I to go down to visit her and the rest of the family in August.

This was her conversation with J ad infinitum. No, I meant ad infinitum::
Grandma: How old are you, J?
J: I am 12, 13 next month.
Grandma: What grade are you in?
J: I will be going in the 7th grade next month.
Grandma: Oooooo, I remember 7th grade. It was really hard.

Or, for a little variety:
Grandma: How old are you, J?
J: I am 12, 13 next month.
Grandma: What grade are you in?
J: I will be going in the 7th grade next month.
Grandma: Oooooo, I remember 7th grade. It was really easy.

Seriously. And J was such a good sport. Wish he were so nice to me.

I guess I just had the feeling. Then she had pneumonia in September, seemed to be over it, but is now shutting down from it and heart failure, hospitalized last week. My father and aunt plan to remove everything but the morphine tomorrow. I remember ex's grandmother lived over three weeks with no food or water before she died, but I hope mine doesn't hold out that long.

My grandmother was the youngest of five children. Her father abandoned the family when she was just over a year old. It was the mid-1920's, but it wasn't the Roaring Twenties. Times were tough. Her mother worked in a cotton mill and it was a great day when her brother brought them some food or shoes; he and his wife were the family infertiles and I guess other family members reaped the benefit.

My grandmother got married at 15, the last out of the household, pushed from the nest early. My grandfather was six years older and died four years ago. Back then, in the throes of early Alzheimer's, my grandmother was not a picnic. Usually rather insincere and playing favorites, she was never a picnic, really. He said of her before he died, "Her.mean.has.mean."

After two years of marriage, they had my father. Six years later, his sister was born. I learned a few years ago why the childbearing was sparse between them. I'd wondered if it were a case of secondary infertility, but it wasn't. She wanted another and he didn't. (I wonder why?) When she threatened to leave, he anted up.

I have J this weekend, in case there is a funeral. My father already offered up that it would be on a weekend and I am grateful for that. I just hope my sister doesn't yell at me like she did before my grandfather's funeral. As tough as I am, I've had enough yelling of late.

Friday, October 29, 2010

I guess it's over

I'm not sure if I'm relieved, but I sure am stunned.

I went over there early this morning so I could go to her follow up appt after surgery two weeks ago. She'd had an allergic reaction and vomiting; the surgeon didn't communicate anything about it, either to me with the post-op interview or to us at the appt. The only way we knew anything was because we'd asked for the surgical report during the part of recovery I could be with her. Of course, I'm good at questioning doctors, so I offered up my services. And she was very interested in my being there.

Sounds break up-worthy, huh? I was doing her a favor.

After the appt, we went for breakfast and then we were going to a movie. On the way, my phone rang. It was Lyd, so I just silenced it. Turns out, that means to Bea that I have something to hide. We were 10 minutes into the movie when she said we needed to leave. Once out, she verbally attacked me about me being untrustworthy and that I was cheating on her, if only by sexting or phone sex. This diatribe was to include the revisiting a guy who I thought was a painting sales lead who called a few weeks later to ask me out; she actually thinks that if she had not witnessed the call that I'd have done him. I find all this really insulting and dealing with her baggage is beyond old.

I kept waiting on it to blow over in one of her moods, but she kept at it, so I left. In fact, I believe her old therapist drove several hours today to comfort her. (cough - this therapist is personal and talks of her own life - so wrong) Then Bea wrote she is going to see a hypnotherapist this weekend. She spoke of taking a trip without me again; the last time was the Bahamas. She spoke of drastic and quick personal turn arounds. I just don't think her capable.

She would not pick up the phone, so I left her a couple phone messages. In one, I replied about one of her emails. She is hooked on me, has even called herself obsessed. She generally behaves fine around me, so I don't worry about it. Mostly, I think she's needy. So today she spoke of this addiction and I replied that she has me up on a pedestal, so perfect that I could never live up to her image of me. Then when I am absolutely human (although not guilty), she gets angry b/c I don't live up to the dream.

It has been wrong for me to try to accommodate her. She is always so demanding.

Several weeks ago, she told me that she started taking prenatal vitamins. By ultrasound, they determined she has an oddly-shaped uterus and said that five days after her next cycle begins, she would be scheduled for an HSG. That's on Monday. I will not be there due to art sales stuff, but I'm pretty sure I would not have gone. I do not support this or her timing of it. She's only 30; she could wait.

As far as me going to the wild parties she in her paranoia ranted about, I guess she forgets I am a mom and I talk to her a dozen times a day on the phone. And oh? the sex? that stuff we rarely do? yeah, I could care less. I am menopausal. Sex is a turn off. I need to change my byline, which I would miss more that I miss sex. That is one absurd charge against me.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Wee hours

I woke up at 1:30. Unusual for me, I actually opened my eyes to look at the clock.

Two hours later, I was still awake, so I finally got up. Again, unusual for me to not wallow as long as possible in bed.

After I had maneuvered myself to try to sleep in a sitting position for my cough, I realized why I was buzzingly awake - another inhaler OD - so it's useless to stay in bed. I've had the cough get progressively worse over the last week and had only recently allowed the inhaler at my bedside again. (For years, I kept it in my pillowcase. Did you hear about the woman who stored hers there along side her .22 and she *thought* she was using her inhaler that night? True story. She lived.) I've also been exhausted and had a hard time getting up in the mornings, both presumably from my erratic thyroid and the heaviest period of my entire life - no exaggeration. Such is menopause - you might skip a month or three, but you're gonna pay.

So the inhaler OD just means I am jittery while I can simultaneously breathe. It's a trade off. I'll use the nebulizer, which I forget I have, when I come down.

Last night, I spoke to my mother about her exMIL, who she never liked. (See previous comments.) When I said I was contemplating a drive across several states to provide some respite care this weekend as my grandmother isn't expected to make it out of the hospital (which I believe is an exaggeration by the staff) due to a hypothetical "event" which will not mesh with her pneumonia or her new found (only by them and not communicated a month ago, not by her own cardiologist two weeks ago) heart irregularieis, my mother stridently said to take care of myself and my own interests, to include my opportunity for retail next week which only comes up less than once a quarter. As I responded to her, it's not the money for the week as much as it is the less fickle vestedness in the future for this opportunity. That and I've worked hard to be prepared.

Besides, she said, your grandmother would not have crossed the street for you, why do this for her?

And she was right. I'd felt guilty that I had not participated in her very healthy three years in nursing home care and I know the circumstances have worn on her two children, although my father has kept himself to a strict once a week visitation schedule until a month ago with her first hospitalization for pneumonia. However, she has three grandchildren within two hours; they are capable and much closer. I can't save the world.

I was really lucky, so to speak, having grandparents in my life for a long time. I had all four until I was past 30 and three until my mid-40s. It doesn't look like I'll make 50 with one, but not many do.

The rain started again. Maybe I can prop myself up for a few precious hours of sleep.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Beware, people

Watch out for fb.

I spoke of the custody case which was the lowlight of my year. There's more.

Months ago, my father was new to fb and had few friends. Suddenly, ex showed up as a friend. To get my father to react to anything is impossible, but I kindly asked him to remove ex. My father instead said he disliked fb and was canceling his account. He didn't. He is an ass.

At least my father never uses fb. My father's sister and my sister do. And they comment on mine. And I just realized that ex had friended them. And some friends of mine from HS who were not his friend - ever.

My friends and family have been a conduit for information to my ex-husband. Silly banter can be misrepresented all sorts of ways and I am on guard that ex may put me through this shit again.

Today, I realized he'd friended my 16yo niece. He has no other reason to friend her except to get through to me.

He's an earwig. It's fb stalking and I do not have any of his friends or family on mine.

Now I am put in the awkward position to limit access for these people until they either unfriend him or severely limit his access. And I have to question the loyalty of all of my family. My father knew bout the lawsuit, but offered nothing. Let's see how the other opportunities for loyalty pan out. I don't have my hopes up.

Beware, people.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Busy work

This is the season for small pieces of art. They're thought to be better for gift giving. Last year, my gallery did over $20K on little, inexpensive pieces the day after Thanksgiving. Further, last time I set up at the government building, I sold five small ones in two days; I'm glad to say I have two more gov't gigs in the coming weeks. Overall, I've sold about a dozen small works in less than a year; they help me keep my painting-a-month sales goal.

The tricky part is matching the things up as a unit. If you are provided a thin vertical space for your pieces to hang in a gallery, technically they're supposed to look good together. The problem for me has been that I feel that I cannot successfully put together 4-6 pieces that resemble each other and are framed appropriately together.

It can become more work than it's worth for a couple reasons. First off, I try to buy frames on sale all year, but I don't generally find or buy five at a time, so what I usually have isn't matched. I prefer them to not be all alike, but I realize the trend is for uncreative uniformity. Sigh. In some ways, I have to please both the gallery and the buyer.

Further, I only charge $75 for a 4x6, which is an appropriate price per square inch and is neither at the top nor bottom of the scale. Unfortunately, the gallery gets 40% of that, so I'm only pulling in $45, but the frame probably costs $6-10 and I actually getting only $30-35 due to the rest of framing do dads and other expenses.

Please remember that artists aren't getting wealthy off of sales, even that $2000 abstract piece you think could have been done by your toddler wrestling with the dog. Galleries will take up to 50%. And framing takes up a chunk of the other half. Calculate in shipping and $75 (or much more) specialized boxes for shipping to a national show. (My tiny 8x10 in a national show earlier this year was $45 for the box and $30 each way for shipping. And I would only usually have charged $275 for such a painting!) Hence, a dozen small pieces sold in a year barely covers my FIOS bill for a month, much less art supplies or additional training

The good news is that I discovered the solution this week to my cohesion problem. I had a large painting from a year ago that was just taking up space. I love the elements of it, but couldn't make it happen overall. It had long ago become a diminishing return on my time invested and this landscape met the chopping block today. I should get 6-8 paintings out of it and I will probably go back and adjust each so they have a good focal point to stand alone successfully. At least they will certainly blend together.

This time, I already had the frames b/c I went on a multi-Michael's binge earlier this year. That means I printed out coupons and went to a number of locations. I bought out all the decently cornered close out frames of a simple wooden style from four or five Michael's. I tell ya, the interstate is good for something - Michael's, Petsmart, and McDonalds are at most exits.

These days in this economy, small pieces are a great way to begin or expand an art collection. They fit in homes so full of windows that only little works can be hung. They flexibly collage together for larger spaces. And if they're not a gift for another, they're a small indulgence for yourself.

Support your local artists this season.

Sunday, October 17, 2010


Busyness is the perfect foil to introspection, but I am craving the introspection! I am currently in seven shows, thus spread pretty thin. Plus, I learned of more shows, one of which is the reward for an award I won over the summer. I have a lot of art to create in the next six weeks.

In the mean time, I've been intensely busy for over a week. Bea had surgery, but before that, her roommate had an old girlfriend come to visit. After much fighting for weeks, they pushed Bea out of the nest and Bea landed here for five days. The last day, she had a scheduled surgery for gall bladder removal. She was doing fine after. I tended her every step of the way. We'd planned it before a weekend I was not to have my son, but his father went to our hometown to help his mother with pacemaker surgery. He's still not back, so J had to go to Bea's for the weekend and her recovery. For once, I think TG for xbox.

Bea and her roommate have been best buddies for several years, but I guess they feed each other's drama. When it was time for the roommate to come back home after Bea's surgery and after a few days with her visitor, she claimed that the visitor missed her plane, was then on standby, and was then scheduled for the next day. Bea didn't seem to want J and I there for her roommate's return, her saying I was bored and restless - as I calmly laid on the bed watching TV - her making excuses and strangely putting words in my mouth, so I calmly began to pack to go home. Bea went off the deep end, as she is wont to do, and she carried my heavy art crate and a TV down the stairs in reaction. I guess it is self-injury as a justified response.

You can't help ignorance. Prior to that, she'd stuffed the trash full and got it ready to haul. She'd also fed/watered/let out her very large dog and stripped/remade her bed. The day before, she'd carried the TV upstairs. People who think being tough in such circumstances truly disgust me. She'd insisted she didn't need help and I was letting her have her way and leave, but I had no idea she'd go off the deep end doing stupid shit.

After I left, I received over a dozen texts. I was driving and had to ignore them at first, but I seriously resented the implication that I had not taken great care of her. She was hysterical. She also told me she peeled off one of her stomach bandages, a large patch b/c she'd experienced post-surgical bleeding. In a subsequent call, I tried to tell her that she's being crazy for attention, but she would not let me speak.

Next thing I know, she's overheated her food in the kitchen, dropped the plate, then fell on the juices. And that she's bleeding from the belly button incision from which she'd removed the bandage. And that she threw up with a little blood in it. And that her roommate and her visitor were taking her to the ER.

All of this, mind you, was in the absence of perc.ocet. She didn't like how it affected her, but the alternative has been ridiculous.

However, I am not falling for it. I'd planned to go back during the school day tomorrow. I was the perfect nurse. I will not feel bad about the care I gave or for leaving when she was pushing us out the door. She complained that I left too easily. I will complain that the plays games too easily. It wasn't the first time she put words in my mouth.

One of my responses to her texts was, "Drama." It felt so good to type... Not much longer.

Wish I could craft a joke about this...

but the straight truth is just so damned good.

J's Interim grades came out recently. He has A's in English (his nemesis, or the teacher was, last year), Science, Strings, PE, and History. He has A- in Shop, and a B in Math.

Take that, you fucked up litigious ex-husband. Add to that, you fucked up litigious ex-husband, it's all in Honors classes.

Once again, I am vindicated. And I'm doing a happy dance over my son's success.

Thursday, October 07, 2010

I'm crazy, but not that crazy

When filling out eH/GHarmony, one has a number of chances to fill in the blank. Sometimes people will put, say, physical fitness in all the following categories:
The one thing I am most passionate about:
The most important thing I am looking for in a person is:

The three things which I am most thankful for:
The things I can't live without are:
The first thing people notice about me:

Some additional information I want you to know:

I want to say to them that I kinda got it after the first mention, but their profile got archived too quickly for that, because under Cricket's Gay Harmony's fictional heading, "Things I loathe," redundancy is right at the top.

This lady, however, didn't mention it twice and I give her kudos for that.

The things I can't live without are:
    * My Beloved Pets Ashes

Wednesday, October 06, 2010


I have stayed with Bea for any number of reasons.

I want to show her that there are honest people in the world who respect fidelity and uphold their vows.

I want to provide her with the comfort and security she deserves.

Because she does have a good heart under all this baggage, I want to mentor her to be her better self. I am not trying to change her, but I want her to better realize her potential and that of her son and her millions of dollars.

I want her to realize her dreams of travel and to know what it means to have a finer life.

I'll admit that I want her to turn some corner and decide that I am worth the financial investment, in addition to that of time and energy, so that I can be provided for the way I deserve. She's done such with others; she will again, besides with just her family, b/c she does provide for them.

And I do love her. Most days.

Something is especially strange, though. Bea acts as if she has no power and that I hold all the cards. She resents my schedule which revolves around painting dropping off, picking up, Openings, volunteering, meetings, and, last but not least, actually finding time to go outside and paint. I have curtailed so much on her behalf, especially when relating to weekend paint outs and workshops.

As it really stands, though, Bea holds all the cards. She dictates everything. My demands might be according to a time and date, but hers are pervasive of everything else. I remember reading an advice column long ago where someone complained of the elderly aunt, who complained that nobody listened to her. The columnist pointed out that the aunt was who was actually in charge b/c everyone hopped to it around her. I spoke of this with Bea and she absolutely disagreed, but all her rules make me hop and there's an imbalance of power.

Eventually, I need to talk about my lack of desire for sex and to figure out if it is circumstantial or hormonal.

I'm through for now. Of course, there's more, but I'm working over at the Harmonies this evening before Just Desserts comes on!

Tuesday, October 05, 2010


This is a multi-faceted concept.

Bea's ghetto upbringing included one trustworthy woman - her father's mother. Her mother and three sisters are cheating, conniving, catting, untrustworthy versions of whores, as is every woman she's ever dated. Once she came into her money, her lack of confidence in this area only grew, but at least she was generous back then.

For these reasons and her unresolved baggage, I have given her some serious latitude. I think she has finally come to trust me and I want her to know that I am breaking up with her for her, not someone else. To clarify, it'll be when I think the time is right.

As far as the money goes, she had given an ATM card to remove thousands a day to her previous partner. Then, her generosity knew no bounds. With me, her generosity knows bounds very well; she makes promises that she will not keep. I have caught her in lies about fake orders and appointments, stuff that didn't need to be offered then lied about. Last year, she promised me a car and house. Now that she's up here, she's talking house again, but I refuse to bite, b/c I do not want my hopes up or to trust her. Further, she does not see anything wrong with her behavior.

Thinking herself generous toward me, she does strange things and plans trips far and wide, then brings no (or limited amount) cards and little cash. Even though we are pretty frugal, we quickly run out of money (once with her two aunts aboard), and I rob Peter to pay Paul to get us out of the jam, then she pays me back exactly the $113 she borrowed to feed her aunts. I shake my head on this. My friends think she has no money.

Same happened for my surprise birthday trip to Vegas recently. She brought little cash and I have no clue about cards b/c I HAD to hold my tongue to not explode b/c I had made one request ahead of time - to have enough money and not go hungry. Of course, we had one meal the last two days on a five day trip that overall actually had few costs, b/c we were frugal with gambling. Who the hell goes to gambling city and is an avid gambler and brings no money? I did have a great birthday, but the rest was pretty meh.

I don't get her. I ask little and get little. Maybe it's my fault.

So now you can see reasons I don't trust her. She is erratic and lacks logic. She swings and I never know where she'll land. Sometimes, though, her lack of trust lands her here. On my computer. In my computer. On my Internet.

I'll admit that part of the reason I didn't come here was my fear of her finding this blog. Now I've change the setting so that no history is saved.

I abhor leaving her here alone, but I do to show trust, then she violates it. You'd think I'd learn. Sometimes I leave home for art things. Whatever. Sometimes she's here for the weekend and I have to go.

In the past, she has looked through all my photos and documents. That was a while back, but one document haunted her and several months ago I had to face that music. Thinking health stuff, I maintained a list of the people I'd slept with, although the document wasn't labeled as such. She began quizzing me on it and I Regardless, the list of my past should not matter to her. Not one iota. However, that fire was lit and I try to keep her away from my computer with a password, but changing user, etc is hard to do on the fly sometimes without looking like you actually have something to cover up.

Generally, I log off all my accounts, even when on my own. I now have a fear of falling in the shower or getting in an auto accident and having my life exposed. I feel such Big Sister mortality now when surfing the Internet.

One day, I left in a rush and forgot to log out of my email. She went through it all. I used to keep everything, sort of as a personal record, but I have since deleted it all. She was particularly incensed about messages from Lyd, who is still a friend. This messages were from long ago and none of Bea's business.

Bea drives me crazy.

She also checks my phone for calls and texts. Over the summer, she found a text to Lyd saying, "next it'll be your hands." For the love of god! This brought days of fighting b/c I could not recall the context. Bea wanted me to do the blind, incriminating phone call thing where she listened in on a conversation where someone would potentially be set up. She'd demanded it before and I always refused. Sheesh, I'm not in HS!

So after about four days, as I was taking a shower, I touched my face and remembered the context. Lyd had traveled to a wedding. She was drunk and texted me that her nose was numb. Then the next text was her face being numb. And I figured it was radiating out and it'd be her hands next. Bea was officially foiled in her idea that I was having text sex, which I didn't even know existed.

You can tell how my life is with Bea. I am always looking over my shoulder and I could honestly do this much better if I were being rewarded somehow. Further, I can see how being with a person like this would cause someone to cheat. But I will not cheat. I will just go away, sooner rather than later.

Hence, my Gay Harmony dabbling to see if there are people like me out there. People who are not cheaters. People with culture. People with education. People with goals. People taking car of their own baggage. People who evolve.

Okay, one final thing. Bea still very much wants a baby and she thinks I'm a stellar mother and she wants to have it with me. She has it stuck in her head that I am over the diaper thing, but I actually fear getting close to a child who is whisk away haphazardly. I finally had the opportunity to relay this recently. I hope she is stewing over it. She has the white picket fence goal, but has the ghetto basis, so she hasn't a clue how to get what she wants. I could give her the white picket fence mentality, but I could not change her to embrace it. She's better at gazing in the window.

Who would have thought six years ago when I began this blog that a lesbian would want so desperately to have a baby with me? And tell me often? And that I'd be so ambivalent about the prospect? That I'd actually be very far away from it? That it skeeves me out to learn over the weekend that she's actually taking prenatal vitamins?

PS - she texted as I was finishing up. Just checked it. She asked if she could live here for a while if she needed a place to stay before she found another place to stay.

It makes my head explode.

I couldn't give an answer; I needed to discuss the circumstances. She refused, saying she just wanted an answer. Again, I am not in HS.

Monday, October 04, 2010


Last week, in order to confuse myself further with additional email addresses and passwords, I started up a new set to 1) take over where Bloglines left off and 2) take over where I already had a hetero e-Harmony subscription.

In my quest to figure out if there are people like me, as my therapist insists, I decided to do the gay e-Harmony, which I do not know the official name, so I call it Gay Harmony. It suits.

I was lucky to do it before their (meaning eH AND GH, although GH doesn't get the media exposure, of course) collective 10 days free. Not so much with the idea of meeting anyone, I have been in the stilted, laborious GH conversation mode with two women. At the "reduced" rate of $32/mo, I don't see me really joining, unless desperation sets in later. However, it would be handy to have access to their pictures!

Lest anyone think I'm shopping, I guess I a way. I am mostly seeking affirmation that people like me exist - educated, articulate, art geeks who like to drink Sam Adams and watch Bravo on TV and never, ever watch a Lifetime movie. This is my dream and it could be a he or a she. It is not a particularly dreamy dream, but I'm not the flashy sort. I am not looking to substitute anyone with Bea and I would actually be upset if this worked ahead of my time line. However, over the weekend, it struck me for the first time how it would feel to hurt Bea, b/c I do make her happy. Of course, fear of anyone's hurt is no reason to stay in a relationship, but it is a consideration. Further, I wouldn't want to taint any new relationship with an overlap or vestiges from an old. Read below and you'll see how fair-minded I really am.

Both eH and GH use a personality profile. Because I haven't yet found BiH (BiHarmony for us bisexuals), I will take the results of eH and GH to heart, mostly b/c there's no difference between the two personality tests! We are not, I repeat not, worlds apart, even when a religious-based dating site has to accommodate *those* people. Either that or their expert psychologist is too lazy to create a new test.

I absolutely love some sections of the GH/eH report. I'll include them here for my own edification, but I'll share, too:
A General Description of How You Interact with Others

You are important. So are other people, especially if they are in trouble. You have a tender heart, but you know how to establish and keep personal boundaries. You are empathetic and compassionate, but you also believe that it's best if people solve their own problems and learn to take care of themselves, if they are able.

You are deeply moved by the needs of others, but you know that if you don't take good care of yourself, you'll wind up being of no use to anyone. So yours is a thoughtful compassion. You strive to be fair and sensible, taking care of others while also taking care of yourself.

When someone really is in trouble, you like to collaborate with them toward a solution; they do their part, you do yours. You consider carefully, and respond in a sensible way; they do their part, and together you move through the difficulty.

You seldom act impulsively; rather, when a problem arises, you take your time to think through the situation. This contemplative quality usually means that you'll arrive at a diplomatic solution, one that's fair for the other person and also fair to you. It's frequently a win/win situation.

A General Description of How You Approach New Information and Experiences

You think like an artist. Or better, you SEE like an artist. While most people look at life's straight lines, its height and depth and width, you're bending the lines with your imagination and turning black and white into shades of blue and yellow. And in conversations at work or with your friends you want to ask, "Do you see what I see?" A few might, most don't, but you've piqued everyone's curiosity with your own original and inventive ways of thinking.

You can, if you must, think in conventional ways. But left on your own, you'll usually opt for the eccentric or avant-garde; in fact you're usually bored with what everyone else is comfortable with. You learn from reading, talking, watching people and other fauna and flora, and simply sitting in the soft chair of your mind and wondering how people would learn how to count if they could only use uneven numbers. You are out in front of conventional ideas, bravely originally defining true and false, right and wrong, the good, the bad and the ugly.

A General Description of Your Reactivity

In some ways, you've got the best of emotional worlds. When emotions rise up from inside you or are brought forth from a conversation by a friend, you know how to engage them. You deal with sadness, fear, joy, anger - whatever comes up - in ways that are perceptive and flexible. You can adapt to whatever level of emotion is appropriate to the moment. At other times, you are able to cope with your emotions in a more reserved manner. Because you are aware of what does and does not make emotional sense in a particular situation, you will decide when it is an appropriate time to express your emotions and when it would be best to keep them to yourself.

All of this gives you a rich emotional life. You are free to express your passions about certain subjects with appropriate people. But you are also emotionally adaptable; if the conversation needs to be more cerebral, you'll keep it "in your head" and talk calmly through whatever issue is on the table. This emotional awareness serves you well. You seldom get in over your head, either by opening up to the wrong person or by triggering in someone else's emotions they may not be able to deal with.

A General Description of How You Interact with Others

When you take on a task at work or at home, you are reliable; you get the job done. In an organized way, you define the goal, lay out a plan, figure how long the task will take, and get to work "solid and dependable you".

But and this is important you're not a slave to the plan. You're committed to it, but not chained to it; the connection is more casual and informal. You know that sometimes "the best laid plans" fall off the tracks; when this happens, you clean up the train wreck and start over, undeterred.

Though not happening often, when plans change, you're okay with it. In fact, sometimes you change the plan. It's too nice of a Saturday to finish organizing the garage. Let's go for a bike ride instead. True, the next rainy Saturday will likely find you back in the garage, but for now the work can wait.

What an interesting combination of qualities in you're organized, but casual; solid, but compliant; and dependable, but informal. At home and at work, people know they can rely on you. You take great satisfaction in knowing that people think of you as disciplined and responsible, but you also know that you have something of a free spirit in you, and when this spirit moves you, off you go, following the impulse of the moment. You are rightly proud of your work ethic, but you also enjoy your willingness to lay the tools down, crank up the music and play like a child.


That's enough for now. Have to upload paintings to my other blog. Rough life.

Sunday, October 03, 2010

Just to clarify

There was a spell where I was driven to blog daily. It was close to a year and it seriously burned me out. I regret it all.

I am attempting to blog routinely again. I am not trying to do so daily. But here I am, pretty much daily. It's great to have some blogging excitement again.

Realized yesterday that I sold a painting. It's in an exhibit at a garden center/manor house; the show hung in late August and I couldn't attend the Opening a few weeks ago, so I had not seen it on site and don't know when it sold. This pastel has a terrible placement round a corner, in the dark, above a tall, tall door - if I put my hand up, I could not touch the frame's bottom. I don't know how anyone could have seen it, much less wanted to buy it.

Sometimes, I really don't want to sell my babies. This is one of them. It is a beautiful piece.

For a year, I have averaged selling a painting a month. It's a good average, very respectable in this market. Considering that I'd only began showing months before that, it's a phenomenal feat. Creating and displaying art are the most encouraging and personal things I have in my life. Although this blog rates very highly over the long haul.

Friday, October 01, 2010

Accurate and timely

With the recent law suit crap, I felt the need to document many things. The Discovery I had to fill out for ex's lawyer was comprehensive. Although I do not think ex is necessarily a bad father, I do think I am a better mother.

There are many examples, but being on top of school activities is one. If you want to know what's going on at a school, or perhaps you want to compare schools, get on their email notification systems - even at upper levels of schools beyond your child's, at the district, board, etc. News comes to you. It's easy. Plus there are online sites for seeing their assignments.

My son's school is not the greatest in this incredibly great school district and I was royally angry we are assigned to this one miles father away than the closest one, but I am here to say they communicate so incredibly well. The other school, for which I get their emails, is so sporadic.

Ex has been too ignorant to figure any of this out. I even did subscribed for the school J would have attended near ex's house if that had happened.

Besides volunteering, football games, field days, etc, they give heads up about sex ed information reading/viewing/content. When J was in the fifth grade, I looked at all the materials and videos for both the fifth and sixth grades. Soon will be the same for Middle School.

I used issues like these to demonstrate that, contrary to the Discovery's probing wanting to indicate, I am not the wrong parent for a pubescent boy to have.

Last night I used it as a learning opportunity with J. I told him I'd be going 30 minutes early to back to school night, so he'd need to inform his father to occupy him there or to come by and get him after I leave. J already knew about the nature of the talk/video, because they communicate well with the students, too.

During our talk, he was leaning against me, but facing the other way, so I took that vantage (animals like these don't want direct eye contact!) to my advantage. It was the same when we'd have our best talks while he was a preschooler in the back seat of the car.

I informed J that I'd seen the family (sex) ed for his 5th/6th grade stuff, but he had not known. I told him that I didn't have any problems with what they were teaching, so I didn't want to interject into the experience for him. I told him I'd wished they'd gone farther, beyond the gamete beginning and the STD ending, wishing they'd touched on the act of sex more, but I figured they knew what they were doing.

I also said I figure they know what they're doing this year, too, but I need to see the stuff. I know some parents have trouble with it and opt out. Our Mor.mon neighbor, Norma, is this way with her nearly 15yo son.

Norma has discussed it many times with me. I told J that, for example, I thought they would be covering masturbation. Norma and her church believe that masturbation is wrong b/c if you can please yourself so well, your spouse will never be able to. Chime in with me: it undermines the tenants of a healthy and successful marriage.

Well, I will admit again that I did live that scenario. Of course, it was merely one issue with ex; he preferred his own morning pipe cleaning routine with beautiful 2-D harlots on the computer to anything relating to his 3-D wife. Without calling out his father, I told J all of this. I also said there's room for a middle ground in which it all can be healthy.

His father could never have such a talk and I am documenting mine here for future needs...if need be. My years of navel gazing have actually done me well. I had many things I had to prove with the lawsuit and it scared off his crack legal team. I do not know if ex read the stuff I'd included in my Discovery, but I would have if tables were turned. And then he would know that, at the very least, one can subscribe to email notifications from one's kid's school in order to be a better parent.

After the fact: they didn't show a video, but they had the teacher's manual available. Geez, it was the same as what I read for the fifth grade. They don't get to the juicy stuff until HS, but this year they did bring a contraception chapter into the eighth grade, although nothing else in the manual changed. I guess they figure that kids will figure out the mechanics if they tell them the other details. It makes me kinda laugh.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

This blog is a confessional

A while back, I received one of those blogger awards that is presented from one blogger to another. It felt nice to be somehow included in the art blogging community.

Although I did pass it along to art bloggers I really admire and had followed for some time, I wondered what on my blog deserved the glowing description this mystery blogger gave. Off to the page meter I went and I found the source of my kudos: a series of pictures and posts I did about a famous blogger and workshop instructor I'd had.

Not a one of my paintings was even viewed!

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

He knew immediately

Last night, J was in his room and heard canned music coming from my office.

He called out, "Whose card is it?"

I think he's on to me.

BTW, it was for his cousin's birthday. I'm a sucker for some Marvin Gaye or KC in a greeting card.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Getting reacquainted

When I blogged for so long, my specific hub (or whatever) unfortunately would not allow blogging in advance for timed blog release. (Way back, Ron Southern explained it to me; it appears he passed over the summer and I have huge regrets that I wasn't able to communicate with him toward the end.)

My blogger also wouldn't allow for the email sending of blog entries. Heavens knows, that was before people did mobile blogging to any degree, so there are new levels of communication since then.

Now, I am hoping for emails and advanced blogging; this is my test.

I am lucky that my art blog allows for advanced composing and I use that often; it's been almost two years running over there and I blog once or twice a week at least. If I know you, I don't mind you checking it out.Often, I will make an entry about when a show opens and when the reception is, and then at the same time I will cut and paste to craft a post about when it ends. Sometimes that second entry is my personal reminder to go pick my paintings up! Very nice, I keep a number of entries in the hopper, waiting to be released.

Although yesterday Blogger gave me a lot of error messages as I traversed the site, it never altogether prevented anything, as it used to do. I am hoping it no longer prevents me from posting the emailed and timed ways I have mentioned. When it boils down to it, I have immensely appreciated having Blogger in my life.

As an additional note, I appreciated Bloglines, too. Google Reader isn't impressing me, so I sure would appreciate hearing of some alternatives or at least some tips. Funny, Bloglines just put on their website that the end is shifted from October 1 to November 1. I hate when my procrastinating is one upped somehow!

One: it appears to have worked! Posting via email! Who else knew?

Two: between posting yesterday and today, my Feedburner dropped by 1/3. Either folks didn't want to hear from me again or they didn't like what I said. Or Feedburner continues to be psychotic. Regardless, it's time I write. There's a ton of stuff I cannot say on an art blog!

Three: I often think of the people in the computer and have for a long time. I have an awful habit of walking away from wonderful friends when I need to otherwise move on. I guess that's fodder for the future. I have developed a new island. I am no longer on (Secondary) Infertility Island, but I have not successfully entered the mainstream again yet. Even though I don't often get upset about it, I still cringe.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Been months

I've been trying for access to this blog for a long while. I finally stumbled upon the *right* help question at Google, as I'd been going in circles. My six year anniversary of blogging is coming up in a few weeks, but the real press this time was Bloglines shutting down in a few days and me reading thousands of blog entries recently.

Hello my people.

My Bloglines, which I had not checked in a few years, actually has 45 saved Chez Miscarriage posts, ending in 2005. What a treasure.

Life is going. From April until September, it was the hardest time I had ever had in my life. Ex tried to win custody of J, who just turned 13 this month and strangely in his pubescent haze suddenly has a say about custody - this after he purposefully ditch the sixth grade and had a frenzied and blamed mother as a result. I don't think ex expected me to fight, but I did. The first few months were on my own. I even submitted close to 400 pages of discovery. After that, Bea found me a lawyer who'd do it on the cheap. I worried about his thoroughness, although he did better after I politely jacked him up. Ex finally dropped the suit this month, supposedly, when J said he wanted to live with me. In my opinion, he actually dropped the suit after they contemplated the idea of me having a lawyer.

I think his goal was to no longer have to pay me.

Only a few in my life knew. Bea was helpful in some degree, although I always questioned why she couldn't just pay for me a real lawyer. This reduced rate guy ($2500 for all but discovery through trial) was actually more expensive than paying someone $300/hour or a $1500 retainer.

She has moved closer and is only about 30 minutes away as of this month. I'm still getting used to it, but parts are nice - quick dinner/movie, picking up or dropping off art in her area, etc.

I went to my hometown in August. My father, who is still cheap as ever and never offered me a cent in the lawsuit, scheduled a clean up date for my grandmother's house; she's in a nursing home and it's been sitting. All that was left was going to Good Will, so I picked up some little china pieces I wouldn't have otherwise gotten. It was the first time I'd seen my sister or father since my grandfather's death four years ago.

Overall, things went well, despite the personalities involved, mine included. What it reminded me of was a positive part of my upbringing. For example, it takes all I have not to correct Bea's Ghetto "English" in her speech and writing. Now I remember why. My father isn't wealthy or upper crust (they do very well now, though), but he has a being around him that I also have. It isn't a snottiness, but it is a sense of propriety that definitely comes through in my writing. He spoke of trying to get his community college students to speak Business English and I guess he's in an appropriate environment to make that demand. I am not. I couldn't get Bea to speak, write, or dress in a genteel fashion if I tried. And I have, just a little.

She took offense over a year ago when I asked her to not wear t-shirts with writing across her big boobs around me. I was trying to politely guide her into stepping up her wardrobe, but she then just wore plain t-shirts instead. In the last six months, she went back to dressing with writing across her large chest. At least that is usually spelled right. I wish she weren't incapable of dressing nicely, but that is merely a symptom.

Many in my life doubt her money and she sure doesn't pony up for me. However, she is so frugal, she doesn't pony up for herself either.

So, I as thinking in terms of looking for an outlet for educated and genteel folk so I can feed that side of me, because my ever loving therapist swears they're out there waiting for me for life and love. You'd think Art would do that for me, as I am very active in the Arts, but I do not have connections in the next level of Arts and most of what I do is with other artists, not collectors.

I am in that land between the wealthy/educated/genteel and the laid back/curse-filled/redneck, my feet in each camp, although the second camp is more likely to accept me. Of course, I accept both sides fully, I just have been reminded where I came from and it doesn't seem like that bad of a place. I would like to step myself up and join the first camp in my own right. And maybe I would feel comfortable going back to my roots. Not to offend anyone from any camp, but I realize I've been on a slide.

Aren't you lucky to have such a wordy piece of navel gazing as my first post in seven months? I hope I'm back.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Happy Winter

Have you dug out of the snow yet? We still have plenty of the parking lot mountains, but it's pretty easy to drive.

Hope you all are doing well. I think of you so often.

For those of you who don't read Facebook or even if you do, I can be more honest here! Hurrah for anonymity or at least the guise of it!

My art is going very well. I had a good number of sales over the last few months as well as some awards. Both concepts are mind-boggling, considering I just began my "Let's Turn Professional" journey a year ago. I didn't anticipate that I would come this far this fast, but I have worked very hard on the business of art. I should probably paint even more, but I work on showing, volunteering, and doing some contests.

According to his teachers during our meeting last week, puberty hit J full force during school's second quarter. Yeah, it was that specific. I was actually glad to hear it wasn't all just him hating on me. I absolutely love him hating on others, too. heh

You may remember he had an ADHD battery done four, count 'em, four years ago. J isn't hyper; he's the inattentive version. I chose the wrong child psychiatrist, who didn't believe in ADHD, and ex took that morsel and ran. So now we're paying. Now, though, J's teachers strongly support his getting help for his inattention and I'd been trying to find a good-to-premier child psychiatrist for a while. Then I tried to just find one on ex's plan. (Why do they not return phone calls?) Now I've got an appt with a ped who specializes in it. Whatever. Whomever. He comes recommended.

Once the teachers were involved, ex hopped on board, as absolutely reluctant as he's been with me for years. It's been harder with J, but I told him what's happening isn't working, so we're going to try something else. If it doesn't work, then fine. I didn't elaborate on how hard it is to get the right med at the right dosage. Alas. Of course when I told him I would be taking him whether he wanted to or not, he said he would not go and it's just like my philosophy about babies and kids being victims of the medical system, captive audiences to get treatments they don't want. He's too smart for his britches. Somehow, I was able to tap dance out of that one.

We're all excited about middle school around here. He's chosen strings orchestra as one of his electives. As his other, he's chosen shop. Ex and I find that funny and odd, but it's fine with me, as long as he gets it out of his system by the time college prep classes are available. I figure it's a Scouting influence. Speaking of which, he's doing well in Scouts. It's perhaps his favorite thing, but as with everything else, he's only so motivated. I have to stay on him for his obligations, but he generally comes through in the end.

My relationship is on track to be the grandest roller coaster ride of all time, complete with stomach churns and screams. I often wish one of us would get off the pot and do the breaking up, but we don't. We love each other and get along well, except when we don't. I still think she's cheap -with me - and I'm still sick of what she continues to give others. Further, her life's dramas spill over into mine; I can request to not hear about such, but still do and then I can't shake it and how it all influences us. Of late, the stress is getting to me and making me less than charming in the other areas in my life. I don't like my cortisol levels to maintain such a high level that I am a royal bitch all the time. It's begun to affect me physically. Her phone was out all last week and I felt a blissful measure of peace.

Another alas.

Tell me about all your alas-es.