Be Careful What You Wish For…

Keep thinking about that phrase/ominous warning…”Be careful what you wish for.

For years I’ve been bitching about the kids — so loud running around the house, screaming “mommy mommy mommy!” and that changed to “MOM” in a low foghorn tone. “I need this” and “I need that!” And the dog barking at NOTHING and whining at the door to go out. And chasing the cat. Cue the howls and hisses and barks and whines.

I always kept thinking “shut up, shut up, shut up” at all of it. I’m noise sensitive, dammit! All I wanted was a little bit of peace and quiet. I usually tweet when I’m alone in the house and say how quiet it is and how amazing it is. And then 15 minutes pass and all the noisemakers return and it’s over.

So, after how many years of bitching about the noise and chaos, I have this: One kid in college, leaving a very silent and SUPER CLEAN bedroom. One dead dog, leaving behind a very silent, bark-free house (and a very silent and blissful cat!) I also have a very quiet teenage Pedro who makes very little noise, just mumbling about MasterChef and misc. reality TV shows.

I’m now thinking a very quiet house is going to soon be a lonely sad Meemaw and PawPaw kind of place with plastic slip covers on all the furniture and those hard plastic runways that you walk on so you don’t get the speck of dust or dirt on anything. Sad. Lonely. Sterile. Lifeless.

It’s suddenly not sounding very appealing, I’m looking back on those years I didn’t appreciate all the joyful noise when I had it.

Sigh.

Sent from my iPhone

Looking for a sign

I’ve been obsessing over this for a while. Yes, I know I tend to obsess over superficial crap but this is a serious one. Why can’t we know, or realize, when “this is it“…the last time for something or the last time you’ll ever see someone… so you’d take a moment to make that moment special or something. So you don’t spend your life wondering why didn’t I stop to appreciate that??

Like, when my mom was near the end with cancer and I left her house, we said good bye, I thought “maybe this is it?” but my mind wouldn’t really accept that . And you can’t really say to a dying person, “Well, I’ll probably never see you alive again, so bye“…kwim?  And yes, that was it. I never saw her alive again.

We just had the most amazing vacation. A bucket list one, for sure. Paris, Paros (Greek island), Athens…2 weeks. Before we left, I had a huge list of last minute Things To Do. Very important things, of course. Mani/pedi, waxing, all the important grooming.  One major item was to take Otis to boarding. It was pretty much the last thing to be crossed off the list before we jetted off.

Drove 40 minutes to the boarding place. Yes, had to take him to a special place because he’d been thrown out of all the good local ones. lol sigh. Got him out of the car, walked in, and the handler said “I’ll just take him back while you do the paperwork.” And then he was gone. Just walked away, black tail wagging happily. No good bye petting or anything. Standard drop-off. I had that niggling feeling in the back of my head about it though.

And yes, that was the last time I ever saw him. My sweet baby Otis died while we were in Paris.

Naturally, there’s a long story to go along with this. The hard lumpy tumors on his skin that were cancerous but slow moving so “let’s deal with that when you get back from vacation.” The 2 tumors that turned into 5 then 7 then 14 in the space of 2 weeks. The tiny one under his tail that he licked at til it bled. And kept bleeding. And wouldn’t stop bleeding. The veterinary ER hospital. Calls back and forth from VA to Iceland. VA to Paris. Getting updates that were hopeful and the ones that weren’t.

RIP my black furry baby. I will miss you forever.

#fuckcancer

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Ohai

So, hey everyone…

I’m several months into the big 5-0 and I have to say it blows! lol #notkidding #sucksballs

One of the super-fun things about 50 is the utter shutdown of my metabolism. I mean, I’ve heard “older women” bitch about this but I assumed it wouldn’t happen to me.

Even cutting out starchy carbs, other carbs, sugars, etc. Not alcohol, of course. Let’s not get crazy.

Nada.

Sigh.

I weigh myself pretty much daily and here’s my scale:

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Mail Call

Well, it happened. I had that birthday. The one I was dreading. I’m alive. Haggard, but alive.

One bonus about having birthdays (other than the whole “I’m still breathing” stuff) is the freebies!  My Sephora gift. The Ulta gift. The discounts. So, with that in mind, here’s what arrived today. So festive.IMG_3506

Balloons. A birthday greeting. No return address.

What could it be???

Hmm.

I opened it curiously.

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BASTARDS!

I refuse to open mail from them. I am YOUNG, dammit. But they tricked me. Lured me in with pretty balloons and hopes of some kind of fun discount card. Nope, it’s (#$%_^ AARP trying to recruit me into their old age cult.

Nice try.

Scowl.

 

Another Source of Anxiety

50.

How is this happening? I suppose turning 50 is better than the alternative, right?

Sigh. 

And yes, I’m enough of a psycho to have a countdown timer for this…and I made one for Tima too -Bless her for being  the one to turn 50 first!! 

The countdown to Hagdom…

 

Well, this is embarrassing…

It’s been so long that I’ve written anything that I couldn’t find the log-in page for this blog! *hangs head*

So, what’s up? I must confess I’ve been up to pretty much nothing. Well, nothing other than the usual anxiety (social and other), mindless household tasks, mundane routines. BLAH.

Currently sitting in front of the computer cursing whoever designed the FAFSA site. For those of you without high school age kids, FAFSA is the portal to alllll the federal college financial aid (and yet perhaps none). It was written by a master sadist. Getting past the initial log in screen takes 2 college graduates and a shot of whiskey. Different IDs for parent and student and passwords and something called “save keys” and social security numbers and the blood of a virgin, of course. And then you fill it out and get the wah wah wah sad trombone noise. And the Federal Aid Nazi yelling “NO MONEY FOR YOU!”

Sarcasmo is a senior and *fingers crossed* he’ll be heading to college in the fall. Where and how in the hell we’ll pay for it are TBD. His requirements are: warm weather, fraternities, and hot girls. Is that college or just spring break? Our requirements are: a school that will take the average white male and does not cost $60K a year. Last fall was all about the SAT and the ACT.  “Sarcasmo! You need to take an SAT class!” with responses like “Eff that!” and”OMG the SAT is so stupid” (Okay, yes, it sucks but you have to get a nearly perfect score on the damn thing to get into a college in VA) and later, Shit, I’m gonna bomb the SAT, I need to take a class.” and  “Oh, my friend so-and-so took a class and it cost about $2K but my other friend just got a tutor that charges $500 an hour” (btw, this is REAL) And “Have you filled out that college app?” and “DAMMIT SARCASMO! The app is due at midnight and you have 2 essays to write!”

From the Frug’s perspective, it’s all been $$$. $ for the private school, $ for the SAT classes, $ for the SAT itself, $ for the college apps (each one costs between $45 and $70 and average white boys need to apply to a bunch of places b/c holy shit, it’s hard to get in!), $ to get the scores sent to the colleges (more for rush services but aren’t they just pressing a button that says “send“??)…for me, it’s been about organization (god help us all)…The mystery of “Naviance” where all dreams become reality. Snort. Your possible colleges must be added to a list and tracked on there and the Common App (which isn’t what I thought) must be linked to it…then the college counselor uses it to submit transcripts and track statuses. Who is writing my average white boy a recommendation? Where’s that form? Why hasn’t X college received his scores yet? What are his chances at X school? Look at the scattergrams! 

Going gray(er)…and feeling completely spent creatively…IDEK.

The Quest for Luminosity

Luminosity? Luminousness? What’s the word?  Whatever it is, I am not. I wonder if it’s even possible for a women of a certain age to have luminous skin?? Can one be luminous with wrinkles, freckles, age spots, jowls, etc.? I think not.

Regardless, it’s fall and it’s time to TRY. ‘Tis better to try and fail than just give up, right?? So, I’m attempting an actual “Skincare Routine.”  Blah. Even saying it makes me itchy. I despise routines. I feel suffocated even using the word. Routine. Ugh.

Am using the 4 piece Boot No 7 Lift & Luminate kit from Target. It’s a day serum, day cream (with SPF 15), night serum, night cream, and then I bought an additional eye cream. Easy peasy to use and I had a coupon. #frugal I’ve been semi-diligent about using it day and night. This is definitely a step up from my fall-into-bed-with-makeup-on-and-wakeup-and-not-wash-face routine.

I decided against posting “before and after” pix. Honestly, can anyone ever really see the difference in some of the before/after shots?? I’ve decided to just go with how I feel about it. 2 weeks in?  Not fecking luminous at all. lol The stuff goes on easily, makes my skin feel soft, and smells nice so it’s not a complete waste.

And, since I was already buying snake oil, I bought an Illumask anti-aging device. #shame It’s a light therapy mask which is supposed to increase collagen, reduce fine lines and wrinkles, firm skin…a miracle in a mask for only $30. #frugal

It’s meant to be used daily for 15 minutes at a time for 30 days. There is a countdown timer on it so you know how many uses you have left. (and our friends at youtube have hacks that show you how to get more than 30 uses out of it #frugal) The huge issue I have is…15 minutes is a loooooong time. You can’t see out of the mask so there’s no walking around, no reading, no Facebook. Crime against humanity basically.

Here are my thoughts while using it:

Okay, this is nice and relaxing.

It’s warming up…reminds me of my tanning salon days (le sigh)

Do I have to pee? Dammit.

No, I am not going to pee. I can wait 15 minutes.

Okay, what can I think about now?

What if there’s a robber/rapist just stalking me now while I’m lying here blind?

Nah, Otis would be barking.

Unless he’s dead.

Shit, is any oxygen getting thru the mask?

What if I’m slowly asphyxiating myself? This would be a truly vapid way to go. #shame

Okay, maybe I’ll do some butt clenches.

Meh.

How many minutes have gone by? Eleventy four?

Is that the sound of my heart beating?

Should it be so loud? 

Maybe it’s a sign of high blood pressure? Or impending death.

I do have to pee.

Shit.

Where is the cat? She should be snuggling me now.

15 minutes is an eternity.

Oh, there’s Fiona.

And then the mask goes off.

Such a cat move to wait 14.5 minutes to snuggle. CATS!! Aloof jerks! *shakes fist*

Anyway.

Again, before/after results? Nope. Do I look better? No. Feel better? Nope.

Sigh.

 

 

Well, I Guess Summer is Over?

Shit. How did that happen?

Kids are both back to school. The Frug is frugging busily downstairs. And me? What am I doing? I’m sitting here at my desk, listening to the soothing sounds of Otis licking his empty ballsack, and dicking around on the interwebs. Time for me to do my traditional post-summer Kelly overhaul.

The summer damage is truly exponential. The revenge of summers past, if you will. It seems that no matter how many peels I do, serums I try, creams I buy and forget to use, the sun damage is there. SPF 70, no pool or beach during peak hours, sitting under an umbrella, etc. Pfft. No matter. Freckles, age spots, melasma. And the sagging. That’s a new one. Really enjoying the sagging. Jowls and neck are so pretty, flapping in the wind. I have 3480 browser tabs on “how to firm sagging skin without surgery.” *snorts*  

Another thing I’m digging is “eyelid hooding.”  Lots of people have undereye bags and dark circles. My thing is upper eyelid sag. It’s gorgeous!! Makes already porcine eyes look even more sinister! And old!  Let’s not forget OLD. Who has good product reccs for THAT? Come at me!

Sigh.

Happy Fall to All. Blah.

 

2 Absolute Gems to Brighten Your Day.

In between sobbing like a fool over Cecil the Lion #RIP, I was howling at some stuff on Buzzfeed.

Matt. Bellassai. Soul Mate? Spirit Animal? God?

You must must must tune into his “Whine About It Wednesdays.” The premise is Funny Guy Drinks Wine at Desk and Whines about Shit. (again, why didn’t I think of this??????) I’m posting what he did today b/c it goes along with another fun Buzzfeed post!

Why Clothes Shopping is the Worst.

And the other knock-it-outta-the-ballpark post from Buzzfeed — This woman photographed herself in RL lighting and in the dressing rooms of 20 different retailers. Clickity Click! —->>>> Eff you, shitty dressing room lighting!

 

 

Happy Anniversary to ME.

Well, it’s been 6 years of this blog. SIX. I think I celebrated the anniversary by doing a few loads of laundry and picking up dog shit in the yard.

Seriously, I feel like my day-to-day life is more boring now than it was when all I was doing was changing diapers and praying for a good night’s sleep.

And what is sleep? Between the stupid perimenopause (which can last 10 years! Yahoo!) and the Frug’s snoring and my general anxiety (Will I die tonight? Or will I die in a plane crash? Or plummeting off the side of the Bay Bridge?)  and specific anxiety (Did I remember to turn off the gas on the stove? Do I hear the dog puking in his crate? Where is Sarcasmo? When is he coming home? Is he even alive?) and the super-fun aches and pains of being an old lady…there is NO SLEEP. I used to be the Queen of Sleep. Now I lie there THINKING until I pass out…and then wake up with both arms DEAD and my lower back in spasm. Sigh. Get back to sleep and then wake up SWEATING. The Frug has the thermostat set to INFERNO over night b/c why would we need a/c while we sleep??? #killkillkill  I also have to sleep in a position that accommodates Fiona b/c she is so sweet and I love her and she needs to be happy.

And the nights when Sarcasmo is “chilling with his bros” I’ve taken to keeping my phone in bed with me, which is a huge sleep hygiene no-no. I check to see if he’s texted me. I check to see if I’ve gotten an alert from the teen driver thingy. Those are fun. “Hard Braking Event Detected.” “Fast Acceleration Event Detected.” “Overspeed Event.” And my favorite “Unauthorized Driving Period Event.” That’s when he is driving past midnight.  If I haven’t heard from him, I check Twitter for police and traffic reports. What do I think I’m going to find???? Who knows.

How do parents live through these teenage years??? And it would be different if he was happy and nice and loved us. Nope. We are assholes. Us! Me and the Frug!! Assholes?? Come on! We’re the best! I may blog more about my assholishness…lol

Sigh.

Well, at least the cat loves me. Maybe. One can never really be sure of that.