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Thursday, May 30, 2013

Rainbows II

I recently had to do an assessment that sent me to my knees for a variety of reasons that I cannot go into (HIPPA, yo!).  This was the kind of thing where I really struggled to maintain my composure and in fact, lost it during the session.  Luckily it was clinically appropriate.  I got back to my office, shut the door, and sobbed for about 10 minutes.

It was a rough day, to say the least.  It really did not get any better after that.  Thank God for 5 PM.  I went to pick Charlie up from the daycare.  She jumped up and down, she was so happy to see me.  That helped.

I take her to the Jeep and strapped her into her car seat.  There, across her cheek, was a small rainbow. I have hanging in my rear view mirror a prism that was my grandmother's.  I vividly remember it hanging in her dining room window, above her cart of houseplants.  She always had the most beautiful plants, and her  violets were always so vibrant and a deep purple.  Obviously I did not get the talent for growing house plants as they enter my house and just kill themselves instead of waiting for me to do it for them.  Anyways, this prism always shone rainbows all over her dining room and I always was fascinated by them.  This prism has always been in my car, and at various times does shine rainbows.  However, it had never done so at this time of day as it just did not catch the sun where I park.

Until this day.  There it sat, a small rainbow with no explanation for how it got there.  Never saw one there before, and have not seen one since.  A rainbow, just when I needed it.

I am not going to comment on beliefs about God, heaven, and the afterlife.  Mostly because I know that my  whole 7 readers run the gamut from the extremely devout to outright atheists, with everything in between.  And quite frankly, what I believe is what I believe and none of your business. Could the rainbows be a coincidence?  Absolutely.  Humans do look for meaning in the mundane.  I am incredibly comforted by the idea that my son is looking out for me in some way.  Whether it is true or just me grasping at straws, it was comforting.

Tuesday, May 21, 2013


 Two days ago:

Charles informed me that he is Lord of the Spider Monkeys.  When asked why he went to the dark side, he just shrugged and said, "Sometimes you have to go rogue."  (Related:  I posted this on Facebook and it is very telling that no one questioned why my husband would be telling me that he was Lord of the Spider Monkeys.  Telling about me or my Facebook friends...well, I'll let you decide.)

This happened tonight:

 Charles:  I have some khaki shorts my dad is going to give me.

Me:  Oh, good.  You don't have any.

Charles:  Yes I do. You bought them for me last year. (Side note: Wife of the year I am not.)

Me:  I did? 

Charles:  Yeah, for when we went to Hilton Head.  I keep them in my underwear drawer.

Me:  Wait...Your UNDERWEAR drawer?

Charles:  Yeah, that is where I put my good clothes...wait, why are you laughing?


Charles:  Yeah, it makes perfect sense to me.  That way they stay nice and I don't wear them to work in around the house.  Why are you still laughing?

Me:  Just...never mind.  Go shower.

Charles:  OK.

(Comes over to give me a kiss.  Tries to eat my Adam's apple afterwards in a misguided attempt at showing physical affection.)

Me:  WTF was that?  Don't ever do that again.  You were trying to rip my throat out like some kind of wolf.  Or...a spider monkey.

Charles:  Well, I am the Lord of the Spider Monkeys.

Me:  Go shower.

Charles:  You want another drink while I am up, since you are all wrapped up in your cocoon there?  (Mind you, it was close to 90* today and I was wrapped up in a blanket.  My feet were cold; sue me.)

Me:  It is my anti-spider monkey cocoon.

Charles:  It doesn't work.  I can still get you (said in a super creepy voice.)

I should probably start putting ads on this blog to pay for my children's therapy...

Thursday, May 2, 2013


When Charles and I first got married, I sat him down and told him very seriously that I hate laundry and was "not good about it."  He kinda chuckled in the way that only a newly married man who has not yet realized his wife actually farts and poops does.  Poor Charles, so innocent and naive at that time.  This was back before he realized what a pain in the ass I am and that my parents were probably super relieved that he was taking me out of their house and into his.  Well, guess what mothafucker?  Your wife doesn't lie, and "not good about it" was/is an euphemism for "would rather french kiss a herpes-infested horny toad than do it."

Laundry to me is an exercise in futility; a special kind of purgatory here on this earth designed to slowly drive even the most dull witted amongst us insane.  I should probably get more specific here and state that I am actually referring to the act of folding it and putting it away.  The actual washing and drying of laundry, well, that credit goes to the machines.  Sure, I put the stuff in there and make the laundry detergent (yes, I make my own.  Bet you never pegged me as a fucking Sally Homemaker now did you?) and turn the dial...but the actual work of that is all the machine.  Folding the shit is torture.  Forced to choose between that and an afternoon spent dancing in the rain...well, I would have to think carefully.

I am sorry, but if you say that you enjoy folding laundry, I am going to say what drugs are you on cause sista, ME WANTY.  Especially if you say this and you have children.  Sure!  Let's go ahead and get something clean, to give it to a kid who could not care less if it was or not, and will take the first chance they have to use it to blow their nose/wipe their mouth/roll in a mud puddle/etc.  What kind of a sick fuck ENJOYS watching that train wreck in anticipation of the extra work to come to an already overloaded plate?

I may be crazy.  But by God, I have my limits.  I am banking on someone creating disposable clothes like they eventually came up with disposable diapers.  Of course, then I would feel guilty about the environmental impact...stupid crazy getting in the way of being lazy!