My Mother is a nurse and deals with several workers comp cases.  Yesterday she visited with a fiesty elderly man who told her the following joke that would not be allowed on laffy taffy

 ”An old guy was walking through the library when a young lady politely stopped him and said, ‘Excuse me sir. But you’re pepper is hanging out.’ Unstartled he replied, “He’s dead. This is his viewing.”

I think it’s sad. That’s the only way I know how to put it.

My parents were born in the very late 40’s and grew up relating to events of the late 60’s and early 70’s.  They never were a part of the KKK, Black Panthers, and certainly were not in attendance at Woodstock however, they played a part trying to be anti-corporate America on a farm in Eerie Pennsylvania (before turning…uh corporate).  At four years old my Father gave my sister and me a pony we named Sundown.  He surprised us while standing next to a compost pile.  Who owns those outside Fraggle Rock?   Mom & Dad played hippy for a brief period, much like Generation X played grunge and are now…YUPPIES.

Did you catch that? No throwing up in your own mouth

The most popular gym in Houston, the one all the professional sports athletes train at and the one where all the professionals with out children work out at does not have a daycare center. At seventy dollars a month it caters to the demographic that can and is close to our over priced town homes and much extended work.  That alone is enough justification for the cost of a membership.

Sigh. 

When did I grow up? 

I don’t know why it’s called a block.  A block would mean you were well on your way then suddenly were stopped, unable to move on.  Even when you turn down the wrong street, when you find yourself at the dead end of a chain-link fence or a road that turns to sand, you are somewhere.  It’s just not where you expected to be.

Every day I’ve tried to pick back up throwing words on to my tablet PC. And every day I’ve deleted my words not wanting to see how I was feeling in black and white. 

When I finally arrive, in a lighter place and smiling in a crowded bar I’m always surprised by how ordinary I feel on the outside: the same expensive jeans and Arden B top as the next girl. I could be any girl lost in the crowd.  Does normal have visiting hours?  Some days, I feel I should have called in advance to make a reservation while others I’m okay with blending.

Today…isn’t one of those days.

MWAH!

it’s national break up day according to my junk email.  Just a thought but i think this rule only applies when you have someone to break up with or i.e. you spill your heart and soul to the man you can’t bare to be with out or with, for that matter, and after several glasses bottles of wine you’ve married and divorced him in your own mind…all over again.

If you listen to enough infomercials you start to believe some of the crazy things.  Brazilian honey can be used as leg wax and, if diluted enough, can double as hair dye, sharpened Ginzu knives cut through metal with the strength of a four year olds chop, that the power of positive thinking can work like a pair of wings to get you where you need to be.  And thanks to a little bout of insomnia and way to many doses of telling myself to, “cut that shit out, thinking like that won’t get you anywhere,” I decided to force myself what it would be like if this year I really could start over.  I’ve never been one to make New Years Resolutions. Who makes those outside of talk shows telling us the “goals” we should apply in the coming year?  In my book, goals and self improvement are a constant.  I’ve never been one to stay stagnant in life, love, or a career. If something isn’t going well I work at it, work some more, and when change doesn’t happen, when I’m not growing and there is no check mate or even playing fields in sight, I tend to drop things with little care allowing stress to creep like a rubber spider found in a cereal box.  And when the dreaded question is unabashedly asked about New Years Resolutions, I negate to answer and quickly change the topic.  N.Y.R. are pointless.

Change is a constant. If I wake up tomorrow and decide I don’t like hummus, I will stop eating hummus.  If I set a deadline you can bet your bottom dollar I will burn the midnight oil trying to get it done or completely blow it off.  If I am to set a specific date stating, “I’m beginning a diet Monday,” one can set their watch knowing that by 10:00 a.m. I’ve already downed a Snickers bar.  I don’t believe in deadlines, resolutions or personal displeasure.  My own Brother is, “going to quit smoking Monday,” every Monday of the year.  If I have a problem, I deal with it as it rises and try to put it out before the issue surfaces.  I’ve been doing just that over the last few weeks.  Last week I whined to my roommate, “I thought someone was following me around then I realized it was my ass.”  The holiday bulge and carb loading was taking a toll. The moment of self-pity surfaced, the switch was flipped and I stopped eating carbs.   The pounds are slowly vanishing, I love Rock n’ Republic jeans….for their stretching purposes alone.

This year I haven’t done a recap of 2006, if not only because I was an emotional wreck.  I hit emotional highs, said good-bye to people I believed were friends only to be honest w/myself…I was the friend, they were the co-dependant or I was the co-dependant and they were the friend,  I quit a job, began a new job, was broken up with,  broke up with uh..,  left to wonder what happened when he disappeared, ran a marathon, spent many fun nights with friends, fought with siblings, saw the sunrise twice, told someone outside of family I love you twice, changed outfits more than 20 times in one night….and let’s not even discuss how many pairs of shoes I still managed to buy.

As I enter 2007 I have to think it will be better cause if this is as good as it gets, I’m kind of going to miss it