Let's remove the temporary bandage

It's strange. Me and a couple of gal pals have had this text-thread-thing going awhile. We're all single ('cept I'm now not, but not married either), and I think we like knowing we're there for each other. At the same time, I haven't mentioned this website to them.

But when I have good news, like I finally finished my taxes for 2012 (or rather, my CPA did) and I'm getting a refund? I will text them. Usually someone will respond. On one extremely crucial date recently, someone did respond and pretty much ... well, let's say I can never repay her for her support.

In case I've not mentioned, I'm kind of going through a rough time. I feel like I've been "going through a rough time" since 2003. I messaged a friend today that I think the most stress-free years of my life were 1998 - 2003. I was finished with college. I had a job and could make ends meet, and I was all "focused on my career," and everything was going as planned, but not much was changing. I remember being bored. I got a dog. And I remember being lonely sometimes, but I don't remember being as stressed, as full of anxiety as I am.

No one likes to read about this stuff. Even on Facebook ... It's surprising, but people don't want to look. The people who care don't want to anyway, because it hurts them to read how much you're hurting. So I came here, but a few of you I know (who don't live anywhere near me) are here, but I know you don't really want to hear the bad stuff either. There's enough bad stuff out there. I'd rather read e-cards all day long than read the news media and be reminded how crazy this world is.

And you know what else stresses me out? Is that I want to control it. I want to know the end of the story, because I want to know that it all works out fine in the end. I want to know that everything is going to be OK, and we're all gonna be happy. But no one can tell me that for sure.

It's a new month, and I even though my job is crazy (and I love it), and even though my son's schedule is CRAZY, and even though I have a case with the Office of the Attorney General that is "in the legal process" (pause ... ya'll, this is what's driving me mad ... how is *this* MY life? A case with the OAG?), even though all this shit is going down for real ya'll? I gotta make some changes. Seriously, I thought I needed fewer changes? But I'm second-guessing now ... I've been in a rut for too long ... I need MORE changes.

I either need to focus more at work, ok, shit, I definitely need to do that because I can see some opportunities ... but I am also going to have to go back to yoga, which I've abandoned for more than two months. I last practiced in February, so I'm pretty sure it's actually almost three months.

And I'm dreading looking at myself in the mirror. Do you know that scares me more than I can even explain? I spent 17,610 minutes sweating in that studio last year. If I can operate a calculator, that's 298 hours, and I'm not even sure how much healing that equals, but I know it kept me sane when I was laid off. And if it could do that? Then maybe I really should get back to it, especially since the ex moved to town.

I'm also dreading putting on my cute lil yoga outfits and missing the definition of my muscles that haven't had a good workout in quite some time. And I have my third annual local run against cancer coming up in a few weekends, and yoga will help me prepare for that since I never train in advance anyway.

OK, I think I'm really out of excuses. I am. But I'm terrified. "No one ever died in the yoga room," they say. I'm not afraid to die. I'm afraid of exposing the wound, but that's where the light will enter, and it needs to be healed.

Children, homeless dogs, and Punky Brewster

I really meant to post before now. I mean, my intent is to post frequently, and it's therapeutic and blah-blah-blah ...

And then it was Friday. Sweet, darling Friday, and I was exhausted because I'm always exhausted on Fridays. And my family visits on Friday. Wait, I have family members at my house five days a week. Family members WHO DON'T LIVE there. And I'm always getting irritated because I can't find anything. Any guess as to why? Because I apparently never passed the "life" course "Establishing Healthy Boundaries," and my family members feel it's OK to move shit around without telling me. Or to remove items from my home entirely.

So feel free to come over and rob me anytime, because I'll likely think it was one of my family members who just decided that ring probably needed to be put in the jewelry box and didn't belong on the windowsill above the kitchen sink, which is where *I* left it when I was washing dishes. Kidding. I don't wash dishes. But I do wash my hands, so that's why it was there, m'k? And it'll take me forever to figure out if it was actually stolen, or if someone moved it.

So where was I? ... the point of this update ... oh, how I'm behind because I was a little exhausted Friday, and then I received an email at 5:05 (Friday) from my attorney saying the opposing attorney has issued a general response to the papers that we served 14 days prior. I was kind of impressed, I mean they had 20 days to respond, and they replied in 14 days. Thanks, Friday.

But then I wasn't impressed because I was confused. And mad. And exhausted. And I was going to have to see the ex at my kid's practice that night. The one I attended mostly to prevent a ding-bat family member from talking to him because she doesn't realize he is THE ENEMY right now. Lord, seriously, how am I going to control all of these people????

And the weekend progressed and rolled on, and I'm so sick of fighting and being on edge and being pissed off. I'm so sick of it. And of fever blisters, canker sores, upset stomachs, and insomnia ... And I'm sick of seeing my ex in my city at the kid's functions three times a week. And just when I was about to have a serious breakdown ... I decided it was time ... for our fourth foster dog this year.

Yes, we fostered our first in January, placed him in his permanent home, fostered another in February, repeat March ... and I was skipping April because of all the other crap going on in my life, and I needed a break and that last foster nearly broke my heart when I delivered him to his forever home ... but I saw one who needed a foster, and I was foster-free for like, four entire weeks, so dang it ... YES, I will foster her.

I picked her up Saturday, and I'm telling you, there ain't much cuter than my eight-year-old son walking up to the soccer field toward his father, and the players and families who had arrived just before us, with a damn six pound rescue dog in his arms. My icy heart, frozen cold for months, cracked a bit ... and for some reason, I was almost nice. I blame children combined with homeless dogs ...

So more about my delayed post ... TODAY, the subject of Punky Brewster Frye's blog came up with another writer friend, and I'm not about bashing Punky ... I have enough people in my real life to bash (some family members) ...

But when I looked at the list of "contributors" who contribute to her blog, I'm not sure she writes much of anything there. MORE THAN 30 contributors. And you're damn right I had to read each one's name to make sure it wasn't any of the female bloggers I regularly follow and respect doing work on behalf of Punky. And then that got me all discouraged like, who's gonna read my blog page when Punky's out there?

And then I realized I am here for my own sanity's sake. And to keep up with a few people I used to keep up with before, and to keep some others posted because Facebook has betrayed us all, and then I said, OK, open that window and type this shit out your BRAIN.

That is all.

My mind on my pennies, pennies on my mind

Pennies.  Pennies are on my mind, and it's TB's fault ... or rather his credit.

He asked me ... If each day you were given 100 pennies, and you placed one in a pile for every good thing that happened, and one in a pile for every bad thing that happened? Well, don't you think you'd likely end up with more pennies in the good pile at the end of the day?

I was thinking about it when I started to get pissy about a few kinks in my afternoon ... and so I began mentally thinking of the "good" pennies I was blessed with earlier in the day ... like the one I got for secretly tickling my boy's left foot (in a photo I posted on another site), and the one I got for making him laugh ... or the one for being able to take him to the doc myself in the first place (with my mother accompanying us, as she always has for the past four years we've been getting him treatment).

There's also the one for his knee being awesomely healthy ... and of course for no bloodwork today, no medications. And it made me feel a whole lot better about the penny or two I had to put in the "bad" pile. I may have been a little less focused because, well, I just got finished hanging out with that kid who sneezed popcorn all over his shirt sleeve as we were leaving downtown ... and I may have had to fix a thing or two ... I may have typo'd, but caught it, fixed it. Add another penny in the good pile then.

Perspective is a gift, indeed.  Thank you, TB.

PS:  You KNOW you wish I had typo'd the title of this note.

Think on it

I can be impulsive, no doubt. I often tend to go with my gut. In many instances my gut instinct has resulted in blessings; in others, curses ... OK, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but my gut has steered me wrong at times, as well.

The first dog I ever owned as an adult? I impulsively drove about four hours to meet him and, of course, brought him home with me. He was the best dog I ever owned, though I only had him for half of his life, and he died at the age of 10 from lymphoma.

Since my gut proved 100 percent right with that dog, C-Diddy, and since I couldn't stand not having a dog greet me when my son and I returned from work and daycare at the end of the day, especially since our house was unusually quiet because I had separated from my husband and his dog went with him ...well, when a friend told me "I know you're not a 'little dog' person, but if you know of anyone looking, I've got one at my barn needing a home," I found myself, three days after putting CD down, driving over an hour to fetch that lil dog.

It may not have been the best decision, but he's ours still, six years later ... a year after getting lil dog, I ended up with another lil dog, who I had hoped would be a "companion dog" for the other. The two aren't really companions but co-exist, and my animal situation is nothing like it was back in the day with CD.

Not willing to risk turning our current home into a three-dog household, we decided to foster dogs this year through a rescue organization. Impulsively, of course.

I immediately fell in love with my first foster, a big dog (golden/shep mix) ...even though he destroyed a door in my house due to his separation anxiety. He was worth it though, and heck, I kind of needed to replace that door anyway.

I feared I would be a foster failure, but I survived letting him go to his forever home, and then we took another, and then another, placing them in permanent homes, as well.

My gut hasn't steered me wrong with fostering ... at least not thus far. And one thing I wanted to happen did -- we kind of shook up the dog hierarchy in the house. I've found myself working with my own dogs more, and I think they're just happy that when one dog leaves, it's not either one of them.

I decided to take some time off from fostering, considering I have enough stress right now, as well as extra-curricular weekend and sports activities with my boy. But then I saw this one the other day ... his little face ... and well, you know, I've been foster-free for three or four entire weeks ... so maybe?

Impulsively, I drove to the shelter he's at during a lunch break ... the dog had not yet been vetted, not tested for heart-worms, still unaltered ... and the staff at the shelter was difficult to work with, considering I was there representing a rescue organization.

And so I did something I didn't expect to do ... I drove away without pre-paying for him, without committing, and without a dog in my backseat. I went with my gut today, and spoke with the head of our rescue, and she agreed I did the right thing.

We'll keep an eye on him to see if he gets adopted ... to see when/if they vet him, etc., and I'll just think on it. That's kind of something I need practice at anyway.

Kick off your boots

Wonder who these could belong to?  Probably the great man outside, mowing my yard right now.

Diamonds on the soles of my shoes ...

It's Friday. I have clean hair, and it's Friday. And the sun is shining, and I'm wearing my glitter TOMS.

I've added the word "NO" to my vocabulary, and I awoke having made a decision that I? Am not going to entertain my ex with any communication whatsoever. I hired an attorney for a reason, right? He has legal counsel now. There's no need for me to converse with him.

Peas and pears, ya'll.  And TGIF.

Something every damn day

This is simply the easiest way for me to update ...

Hi [Paralegal]:  I spoke with [attorney] yesterday and let her know that I received a “Child Support Review Process Notice” in the mail from the [Previous] County Court.  I assume [BD] requested the review, in order to get his support lowered, before we made the motion to move the case to [Current] County.

The notice states:

Please attend your Child Support Review Negotiation Conference scheduled for:

Date:                    05/01/2013

Time:                    2:30 p.m.

Location:              County DRO

                            Child Support Division

[Attorney] said I should bring this document to your office and that you guys would take care of it.  I can drop the notice off at your office today … is there a time that works best?

Also, how do we “take care of it?”  Will it be rolled into the modification?

AND – have you yet heard anything from [BD's attorney] at [opposing firm]?  You said you know them well.  Can you provide any insight?

Thanks so much.  And let me know what time is best to drop off this document today.