The HodgePodge Thus Far

So now we can play countdown to normalcy. Almost wanted to just start chewing on my happy pills this morning, but I decided to practice some moderation.

Lots going on in the past week, seems a shame all I blogged about was my stupid anxiety attacks. After I blogged like some depressed single woman drinking Sleepytime tea while patting her four cats, I felt a bit better. Of course, the valium and the other yummy pill in the stash helped a bit too. All thanks to the saintly paraplegic wife of my ex-husband. Hah. That is so in need of a Dr. Phil special.

Other items on the "Anywhere But Here" agenda:

I may have found a house. I may have a loan, I will be the first one to offer, you get the idea. I am thrilled about it. I'm having a hard time making it real in my head, you know? In so many ways, I feel like such a young girl. It's strange having to relate to others as adults, when I still think I am 16 in my head. The idea of me as some mortgage paying homeowner is a bit out of synchronicity. If and when this thing goes through, I am going to have to do something utterly juvenile in rebellion. Z and I had sex outside under the moonlight last weekend. I think something similar to that is in order.

Item 2:
I feel terrible about whining about Z in my last blog. He woke up about 20 minutes after I was done and did an incredible job tending to my emotional needs. The comfort/warmness/familiarity I feel when it is he and I is better than any drug. It is calming. It feels like home. Sometimes being with him -in the simplicity and quiet of just listening to eachother, being next to eachother, as we sit outside and talk about our plants - reminds me of home. There is a certain smell and feeling I miss that exists in San Francisco. It smells clean, and pure, and full of life and energy and passion. Z smells similar. Somehow, since I have been with him ( 3 years in September ) I don't miss my home so miserably. As I told him, "I guess you are my home".

Item 3: A few blog entries back, I discussed my friend who had a tiff with her husband. Recently, she blogged about how they had done something "kinky". In typical fashion, she swore not to tell what it was until others had shared their own kinky escapades.

My lovely friend, I mean this in the highest regard. You are Fuck&ng Up. The kinky stuff is sordid once it is discussed outside of the confines of your lover. If you are desperate for the titillating thrill of disclosure - tell the big secret - I have discovered that once you get to the point where you can discuss things completely openly with your lover, you don't need to get that feeling somewhere else. I don't mean "dirty talk", either. In a way that makes sense, as it relates to your partnership, there is something sexy about a conversation that begins:

" It feels absolutely incredible when you..."

(Remember, this isn't in the midst of being provocative or suggestive. This is casual, after sex Waffle House conversation.

Not that I have been to Waffle House in over 6 weeks....)

The point is, don't share. Sharing is seedy and gross. Like swingers. Ick. I've discovered that couples that swing are usually way not sexy in real life, like nudists. It is absolutely nothing like "The Ice Storm", where you have super hot Kevin Kline as a potential "date" for the evening.

Item 4:
Did I mention my idiotic coworker? He is also in the midst of attempting to purchase a home. Difference is, he decided to use his desk as a forefront for loud conversations with real estate agents, lenders and creditors last week.

Admittedly, I also use work as a home base, but I run to the phone room anytime anyone of the least significance calls. The entire process of discussing my debt-to-income ratio is somewhat icky, anyway. I so don't want to share that either.

My issue is, now I know this person's income, credit card bills, salaries at former jobs, spouse's income...you name it. How do you look someone in the eye over that one? Obviously they are a perfect idiot to share that kind of stuff over the telephone in a cubicle culture. Bleccchhh. Stupid people suck.

Item 5:
My boss just got back from vacation in Orlando - he actually remembered the Minnie Mouse ears I asked for. How sweet was that.

What he enlightened me about was some U.S. President's ride they have there. (Not in Anaheim I'll have you know). Apparently, the little animatronic presidents only clap and cheer for two U.S. Presidents - Reagan and George W. Perhaps a boycott on Disney in Jeb Bush's Florida is in order?