Posts Tagged ‘moms’

I read my horoscope last week & it said I needed to run away. I couldn’t agree more.

Tonight, after slowly walking the dogs around the block for the umpteenth million time, while Zephyr wandered away from me, because he’s figured out I can’t grab him if I have Trooper, I’d had it. I took the dogs home, threw their leashed in the basket, grabbed my purse & nearly ran out the door.

My car is gone. It died today again–died is becoming a word my jeep does more often than not now. Everything in my life is dying & breaking–my dogs, my jeep, my apartment. AND I’M TIRED!

So tired, and losing my patience with this slowness, this tedious, every day, slowness and breaking down, so I ran away.

You wouldn’t know it. You would call it “going out for the evening”, but for me, it was running away.

I rode my bike all the way downtown–me, on my bike! I rode all the way to Hot Italian, my new favorite bar/pizza spot–all white, black, marble, very modern. It shines & glitters. It’s clean. It’s  everything my life isn’t right now.

I ordered something with vodka, limoncella & ice. It was splendidly tall & fizzy. I flipped through Italian Elle & ordered fresh basil pizza with a thin, thin crust. And I didn’t think about the dogs once. Not once. No worry, no fretting, no nothing. I was free.

This has got to be what parents feel like when they have just given and given, and one day, that’s just it. There’s nothing left to give, if they don’t give to themselves, and fast.

There are so many things I don’t do anymore– leave town, for one, kayaking, tango. I need more time, out there, or just more time with me, sans dogs.

And the funny thing was, tonight? I wasn’t scared–not sitting alone at the bar, not riding my bike home at dusk without a light, not taking alleys, nothing. I felt free. And free is something I haven’t felt for a very long time.

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Mom and Papa on Mother’s Day, looking lovely. 🙂

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My mom managed to deliver a beautiful plant I was eyeing at her house last week. It came  in a bag with a bright red bow and this card, via my dad. That’s a long distance transaction, well planned.  

Thanks mom, d. xo

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My low genetic battery Monday wafted onward and is now my low energy Wed. I think I’ve hit a burn out wall. I’ve let my thoughts about “outside views” about what I’m creating–my two Etsy shops cloud my joy. Yep, folks I’ve got cloudy joy syndrome.

My freaked out examples:

1) My mother has not ONCE asked how my shops are doing. No yeahs! No good-for-yous! No cute item, nice pattern, wow, sales, etc, etc. It just isn’t enough for her. I’m not “being the person I should be” for her imagined photo album family. I know, I know. I’m a fricking grown-up–at least on paper–but do we REALLY ever get over wanting our parents to be proud of us? (If you have, in fact, please let me know your secret. I might even pay you for it. I pay my therapist enough and she can’t come up with a solution).

2) When I sit and crochet special orders at the cafe in the morning, I’m the only under-retirement age, non-gray-haired breakfast lounger there. My peers? They’re married, with kids, at a real JOb. It bums me out.

3) I’m working WAY more than any money being produced. It’s almost pathetic. I’m feeling un-employed, not self-employed.

4) My freedom from an  office is starting to feel like an outcast situation instead of a free-to-be one.

5) Downstairs, a soap opera is playing on the tube and I’m too tired to go down and turn it off. Day time television is a BAD BAD sign. Just say NO. RUN!

Okay, enough blithering for one day. Back to . . .


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The fog lifted, but has left a hard chill. I’ve abandoned felting–just for today–to crochet several scarflettes. I like how smart they look.

 Pumpkin Scarflette with Avacado Tie

You can actually wear them with urban wear and not feel overly bulky, as w/a scarf. And as I mentioned on Etsy, I hate it when my scarf falls from my shoulder onto the ground or into my coffee.  Dangerously long scarves can haphazardly fall into unwanted places in delicate situations. (Ask any woman who has ever tried to maneuver her body, coat, purse, packages, umbrella or child into a bathroom stall. The answer is in the scarflette. Now back to my crocheting.

Stay warm, d.

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