I’m not here today. But you can find me in virtual Dutchlandia. Why not stop by and we can wreak havoc on DutchBitch’s blog!!

*I wonder if I can find her stiletto boots….they’re sweeeeet!

She’s not huge. She’s not rebuilt. She’s brand new and she’s mine. 

About six years ago, I had rotator cuff surgery on my left shoulder to repair damage that I had done by years of lifting babies, strollers, laundry and a certain woman who claimed to be 150 lbs (I know for certain that she weighed no less than 180!) My orthopedic surgeon had warned me that I might need to have that surgery done on the right side eventually. But I felt so good, and since I had learned the ‘correct’ way to lift things, I continued to watch infants, take strollers out to walk and still carried laundry.

Fast forward to June 6th.( I remember because it was just before my trip to Kentucky). Hubs and I went to the store for milk or something and when we got home, Bandit was soooo excited to see us. You might think that we had been away for days or weeks instead of just twenty minutes. He jumped on us and greeted us with the enthusiasm that only a pet can exhibit. I played along with him, running and jumping around the living room. I chased him around my coffee table and as I ran between the sofa and the table, my feet became tangled in the couch cover.

BOOM!  I went down….hard. To brace my back (and wrists) I went down on both knees and both elbows. Well, a landing like that jolted my entire skeleton. My neck hurt to turn for a few weeks, my knees and elbows didn’t bruise as badly as I would have imagined, and maybe….just maybe…I tinkled a little bit. (JUST MAYBE!)

I chalked it all up to a lack of grace. Hubs, while concerned, was glad that I got up laughing at my stupidity. But I was lucky that I didn’t break anything.

Or did I?

I haven’t been posting alot because I have been busy with this and that. And there is also a second reason. My left shoulder is in pain. (The one that already had surgery) The right arm has a searing pain across my bicep. (The way that the first injury presented itself) It is hurting me alot to type this out. Actually, I have stopped between each paragraph to take a break and rub them.

I guess this means that I need to see the doctor. Instead of sending me directly for an MRI, he will tell me to get xrays. The next week he will tell me to get the MRI. Then he will most likely operate, (putting another of those scars like the one above)  and put me into physical therapy twice a week for 8 weeks. I am surely not excited about this. As a matter of fact, I am so NOT excited, that I haven’t let Hubs in on just how bad it hurts. We are going on vacation in two weeks.

So I will suffer my secret pain. I will relax on the beach when we go on vacation. I’ll mostly stay off the computer (except for reading blogs and an occasional comment here and on facebook). And I’ll take lots of anti-inflammatories.

I have an appointment for the week we get back.

A day is coming next week. A day that I have been preparing for for twenty-nine years. I am ecstatic. I am devastated.

Son1 has bought a house. Settlement will be made on Friday.

When he turned 17, Son1 left home for the army. I had to sign papers to allow it, because he was underage. Shortly before his high school graduation, he sat beside me on the couch and began to cry. He was suddenly afraid of leaving home. He was afraid of the unknown. He had been apart from us only a few times to go on vacations with his friends, but this was different. I told him that life is an adventure and that this was only the first of what would be many adventures.

He ended up being gone for only two months. (The army discovered that he has shitty knees.)  During those two months he wrote every day and called as often as he could – even sneaking in a phone call here and there) I heard the loneliness in his voice and wondered if perhaps I had  made a mistake in signing those papers.  He returned a different person. Even with  all of  his clinginess, he had grown a little more independent. He learned that he could push himself further than he had before. He got a job across the border from Pennsylvania.  He made this 30 minute drive every day, and he continues to do so.

Before he left home for the army, I worried. Would he be pushed hard to the point of breaking? Would the other guys like him? It was like the first day of school! I bought his supplies. I packed his bags. I kissed him, hugged him, told him that I loved him  and sent him into the world. As he goes to work now, I make sure his coffee is ready. I remind him to grab the tools that have been charging overnight. I make sure that he layers all of his clothes in the winter. I kiss him, hug him, tell him that I love him and I send him into the world.

Will Shenanigans remember to do these things when they finally live together?  Will she make sure he has all of his tools? Will she rub his back when he doesn’t feel well?  Will he finally be mature enough to keep his important papers put away, now that Mom isn’t there to do it for him?

Even though he never helps out here by mowing the lawn or cleaning the gutters, will he do it in his own home without a leaking roof occurring first? When his own little girl falls and begins to bleed, will he panic, knowing that now HE is the adult in the situation? If the toilet ceases to flush, will he know what to do?

He isn’t moving out of the country. He isn’t going to war. He isn’t even going to another state. I know that others have said ‘good-bye’ in far different circumstances. I am saying more of  “See you later” . He is only going twenty minutes away.

A different  sendoff. A different set of worries and fears. But he won’t be calling my house his “home”. His home will now be with Shenanigans and Jazz.  He is an adult with a family of his own.

But still….He is the first of my kids to leave the nest. And when he leaves with his last box of stuff, I will kiss him, hug him, tell him that I love him and send him into the world.

This was a conversation that was held on Facebook last night. It started with some chicken I wanted to make the other night and I then waited two more days to actually do it. Thus my ‘status’:

Metalmom is freakin’ glad that there is no more chicken in the fridge. Her so-called friends are obsessed with it.

D:     How’s bout BEEF?? GOT BEEF???

KB:    chicken is good…you always know your in for a clucking good time with chicken …lol

KR:    Me too, L    she’s mean

KR:    Cause she’s a BRICK ….. HOUSE!!!!

D:     C’MON K – play dat funky music white boy/girl/shim!!!

L:     Lay down and boogie and play that funky music till ya die…..how does this have anything to do with chicken???

D:    Since when do we make any sense!!!

L:     true! Go with it

MM:   Don’t mind them, KB. It’s not contagious.

L:     who you talking to…the people in your head???

D:     Hey why did the chicken cross the road?

MM:  His d@ck was stuck in the hen.

L:   Chickens, over great periods of time, have been naturally selected in such a way that they are now genetically disposed to cross roads.

D:    HAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA sprinkle sprinkle!!!!

D:    SHUT DA FLUCK UP!!

L:     Give me ten minutes with the chicken and I’ll find out.

MM:   But whatcha gonna do to the chicken L ?? You’re scaring me!

L:      The fact that you are at all concerned about why the chicken crossed the road reveals your underlying sexual insecurity.

D:      choke da chicken – yeah, yeah!!!

L:      LMAO literally!

MM:    YOU’RE KILLING ME!!!!

L:     I’m back…I had to go pee….that’s how loud I was laughing

D:     I’m gonna put my hand inside that chicken and move my hand all around and then I’m gonna stuff that chicken so good and full!!!

D:    I do not think I am sexually insecure at all!!!

L:    See! asking why the chicken crossed the road reveals your underlying sexual insecurity!

L:    ok..what’s the opposite of sexual insecurity?

L:    did you know that 89% of all belly button lint is blue?

MM:   What does that have to do with chicken or sexual insecurity?

KR:  You guys are all so flucked up, I’m at a loss!

D:    I SOOOOO LOVE U GUYS!!!

MM:    I love you all too! See how Catholic school screwed us up?

L:     Too funny!!!

KB:   well that is the difference between kinky and perverted Chris…kinky you use a feather and perverted you use the whole chicken

Yes, these are my friends. 

Yesterday I went to the beach with my Granddaughter-to-be, my “twin” (we share a birthday) and her daughter, Vika. It was very much spur of the moment. The girls had never met but they got along as if they were best friends forever. It was a joy to watch two ten year old little girls, still very much in the innocence of life laughing and splashing in the ocean. They found a tiny hermit crab and a sea snail which fascinated them. Jazz was slightly stung by a jellyfish but we managed to avoid hysterical screaming. Pizza for dinner and an awesome cocktail of lemon gelato with raspberry vodka poured over it capped off a perfect day in the sun.

Of course, while I was gone, the world came to a screeching halt.

The oven repairman stopped in to check something out and left again. Babygirl was home alone and didn’t know what to do. She called Boyfriend to stay with her while the ‘strange men’ were in the house. The repairman returned with the verdict that a ‘simple repair job’ was going to cost more than the landlord was willing to put into an old range. What should he do? She tried to reach me, but I got no signal on the beach. She called Hubs who was busy at work. She called Twin who also had no signal and then she called landlord who said…….wait for it…..

I’M GETTING A NEW RANGE!!

Yes, a peek of my boobies apparently worked well for the bribe!  Tomorrow, Hubs and I will go pick one out. I can hardly wait.

As for Babygirl, I think that the next time, she’ll want to go to the beach with us!!

Dreams can be powerful things. They are said to reflect memories, fears, or desire. Many are recurrent.

I myself have three recurrent dreams, one in which I speak to my Uncle Steve.  He was financially smart, so it is no surprise that I have this dream when money is tight. The second is the one in which I have to get to class. I can’t seem to remember my schedule, or my locker combination. This reflects the lack of preparation I am feeling towards a specific event happening in my life.

The third…..The third I can find no meaning for. I have it frequently and it is incredibly vivid in its horror and detail. I remember color, smell, even tactile sensation.

In this dream I am hiking in the woods. Who I am with varies from time to time, but the details are the same. The sun is shining through the leaves and a gentle breeze is blowing. It is fall because the leaves are beginning to change color, and the sky is a clear, bright blue.

I am feeling very happy and content with where I am and I breathe the air in deeply….

….and there is a crack of a branch and the crunch of some leaves. A bear is coming onto the path behind us.

In fear, I run toward a huge tree, hoping that I can keep the trunk between the bear and myself. I get closer and closer and just as I reach it, I am snatched by the back of my jacket. The bear, in it’s fury, tears at it, exposing the down feathers and eventually my flesh. I feel the jaws clamp on my shoulder and I am flung back and forth like a rag doll. The slashes in my skin burn with pain. My shoulder feels the pressure. The bear throws me to the ground and I suddenly feel…..nothing.

I can’t move, but I can see the immense legs as the bear stomps around. I am aware that my companions are safe. But I still smell the animal’s scent. I can feel the heat of his breath and the stiffness of his fur. I see my jacket in shreds and one of my boots. And the last thought I have is “Oh my God. This is how I will die.”  Then I wake up.

It is the same all the time.

Last week, as I was flipping channels, I saw the story of  Timothy Treadwell. Nothing else was on television, so I began watching. I was drawn in by this man who was living so close to and photographing these immense creatures. And then they began to show the bears getting agitated and aggressive with each other. My heart began to pound in my chest and I was shaking, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The animals were fighting over fishing area.  They bared their teeth and their eyes flashed yellow. I knew that Treadwell was eventually killed by the very creatures that he felt a kinship to. Before I knew it, I had tears streaming down my face.

I had to turn off the television. This was too much for me to see.

Why am I telling you all about this? I don’t know. I need to get it out, to express this fear, to look for an interpretation. If you have any idea, let me know. I want this dream to stop.

Okay, so here is the story of the oven…

My oven is old. Not ancient……I mean, I don’t have to fill it with kindling or anything…..but it is old. When I open the broiler underneath, the door nearly falls off and shutting it? Well that is all luck. It doesn’t line up right and frankly, it is such a pain in the ass, that I don’t use it at all.

The stove top, I use as often as anyone else. I make dinner, occasional stir-frys for lunch, and bacon and eggs for breakfast. You know, normal usage.

The oven…. Ah the oven. That is my favorite part. I love to bake and it doesn’t have to be Christmas or a birthday. I love to make a roast or to make a turkey just because it relaxes me and I love the way my house smells. In the winter, I like the warmth that fills the house.

On Thursday, Hubs and Son2 only wanted French Bread Pizza. So I put them in the oven. They got done, I took them out. That’s it. I turned the knob to shut off the oven and it kept on turning (The gas was off .) Great. I let the oven cool and tried turning the dial again. It turned all the way around but never came on. No doubt about it. It’s broken.

I called the landlord/realtor on Friday morning. I mean his office was barely open and I had called. “Oh he’ll get back to you” I was told. So I waited and waited…..and waited…..and waited.

I called back in the afternoon and was told, ” Oh he’s gone for the weekend.”  WHAT THE FUCK???  Not having anyone else to contact, I was stuck. Well, it wasn’t the end of the world because I rarely cook from Friday until Monday night.

Finally, Monday rolls around and the landlord calls back and gives me the name of a repairman. I call him and he will come on Tuesday. Tuesday gets here and when the guy looks at the oven, he says “Wow. You might be better off getting a new oven.” Now I am excited. The thought of a new oven gave me tingles.  I would even settle for a ‘new to me’ range. But nope. The landlord says that if it gets repaired, maybe we can get another five years out of it. Sonofabitch. The repairman tells me the part is old, maybe we won’t find one. Now my fingers are crossed.

An hour later, the repairman calls again. The part has been found….in a little town that is about three hours away. WHAT THE FUCK AGAIN!! The repairman thinks this is ludicrous. I think it is ridiculous. But we are now waiting for the part.

I’ve been told, “It’s summer! Use the BBQ!”  But, hello! Do you know me??? Do you really think that I am allowed to go near flames? I don’t grill. Son1 does, but the grill is at Shenanigan’s house.  I have learned to love my crockpot. I’ve never done chicken in a slow cooker but I intend to try it tomorrow. I’ve also heard that lasagna can be made in one. Who knew?

Yeah, the oven fiasco began last week and here it is, Thursday again, and I still have no oven.

I guess that in a few days, I will have my old, crappy oven up and running again….

But I’m really wishing that the repairman will drop the part out of the truck window along the highway somewhere. Hmm….where’s his number? Maybe I should ‘make him an offer’…….

I know y’all are waiting on pins and needles about the oven, but I’m making you wait. Oh stop, your whining and get over it!!

A friend, who has been living in New Orleans, was visiting our neck of the woods, so we gathered up our 8th grade class again to welcome her home. Some of us were on vacations but there were others who we have recently gotten in contact with who jumped at the chance to hang out. There were a couple of girls who had missed the first ‘reunion’ who made it to this one. It was great to see them again. This time there were more of our male counterparts who made an effort to be with us.

It was the men who surprised us all the most.

The “Independent Film Maker”  had mentioned the gathering  to a couple of his friends and so they came together. One of those three was the guy that I had hung around with from 5th through 7th grade. In all of those two years, I think he may have spoken only ten sentences……yes, he was that quiet. He seemed to have come out of his shell, schmoozing with everyone and chatting up the ladies. I still smile thinking about that.   Another fellow showed up who had barely changed a bit. He had been neighbors with Ms Social and they spent plenty of time laughing up a storm at their memories.

Mr Football arrived, much to everyone’s amazement. I don’t know why, but I hadn’t figured him for a reunion-type of guy. He jumped right into the crowd and it seemed like he’d always been there, making us laugh with all of his jokes. He made everyone so comfortable being around him.

And then…..Mr HeartBreaker showed up.You know, they guy everyone had a crush on. The one that you sent love letters to. The one you dreamed about kissing. The one who had the hair you wanted to run your fingers through….*ahem*….Yeah him. I will admit I had the worst crush on him for years. I was not the only one. He showed with his girlfriend-only for a short time. They had to get home to their tot. Ah, c’est la vie.

Thunderstorms and pouring rain came and went just before midnight and Babygirl called- by Hub’s request- asking me to make it an early night because of the weather. I was fine. I let her know that. And later I let her know that we were heading out to breakfast. Mmm….nothing better than pancakes and eggs after a night of drinking!

Just as I was around the corner, Hubs called again. I answered the phone with “I’m around the corner” and I heard a click. He had hung up. I thought “Oh shit! I’m in the doghouse!! ‘ ( It was 3:15 after all!)

Oh well. I wasn’t in trouble. He had been half asleep when he called and as soon as he heard my voice, he knew I “wasn’t lying dead or drunk in a ditch somewhere”  I don’t know where this ditch would be. There aren’t any around my house!

But guess what? I forgot that one of the perks of being relatively “grown up” is that I can un-ground myself and I don’t need a curfew!!

The next gathering? I’m getting a room.

Just because I haven’t been posting lately, it doesn’t mean that I don’t have stuff going on.

On Friday, I broke my oven. I have been ovenless all weekend but since I don’t cook all weekend, it wasn’t the end of the world. I’ll tell you all about that. Just not today.

On Saturday, I met with friends for a wild night that ran into the wee hours of the morning. I’ll tell you about that too. Just not today.

Today, I will tell you that there is road work on my street -AGAIN! This time last year, the water lines were being replaced. They tore up my street, from one end to the other for two weeks. They disrupted the baby’s naptime-and mine-and made my days miserable. And then they left it merely patched and lumpy, for a year.

Today, they began repaving. This means they have torn up the old paving and patching. Tomorrow, the blacktop will be replaced. We have a work truck and two cars in the driveway. My son won’t have anywhere to park. When the kids get dropped off or picked up, the mom has nowhere to park. As  my kids come and go, they will track tar into my house. And the dog will sit at the window watching all the comings and goings. He will bark all day at the workers. If he goes outside, the sounds of the trucks will scare him.

I’m not very happy about it. I know the end result is worth it. But the people it matters to the most aren’t home all day. I am. The people who make the mess in my house aren’t going to clean it. I am.  And nobody will be able to comfort my Bandit but me.

So I posted about that first because it annoys me the most.

See? I got stuff!