Monday, December 10, 2007

It's beginning to sound a lot like Christmas...

I was in a dollar store browsing in my favorite pen/paper aisle. When suddenly I hear this ruckus coming from the direction of the checkouts. Two women skreiking at each other. But not only that, there was a flurry of noise and voices and all I could think of was how it sounded like a bunch of chickens. Upset one chicken and the rest has to join in, a bunch of busy bodies clucking and flapping. I stayed put. Usually I'm the type to ride in on my white horse but I said screw it this time and challanged the woman next to me to an arm wrestling bout. She declined telling me that she left her arm wrestling arm at home. (I liked that woman) Suddenly the noise was over and down my aislel comes this big sloppy looking woman with unwashed hair in stained stretched to the limit once white stretch pants and a bright orange shirt that proclaimed "Escapee from the mental ward. NSS (no shit sherlock) She was still flupping and fussing and muttering about the confrontation throwing a lot of f'n bitches around. I kept my eyes firmly on the pens. But I did discover what started the mess. Ready. One woman looked at the other. Holy moley, I just dare, dare someone to step on my shadow or breathe the air I'm breathing. There are limits.

And to think. I haven't even started Christmas shopping. I wonder what other adventures await me.

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Feeling bloopy

How does one rise from the mire of bloopiness? I sure wish I knew. I've been feeling... dissatisfied lately, wanting something special to perk me up but having no idea what that might be. I've been looking at other blogs, mostly craft ones and marvel at how someone can put an old cardboard Santa, two blue candles and an embroidered handkerchief on a table and make it look so very right. If I tried that, someone would light the candles, blow their nose on the handkerchief and knock the Santa over onto the candles and well we'd have wax and ash and snot.
Snot. That's it. My world feels the way snot looks, green and gooey and definitely unpleasant. I've decorated for Christmas with my gaudy tree garland and poly clay balls but it somehow lacks the zing of last year. All of the husbands Santas have crowded my model magic dolls off the shelves and as I wander around with a basket full of dolls wondering where I could stick them till Christmas is over, I have the desire to throw the lot of them into the trash.
My nutcrackers are up, jostling for space on the long shelf with the angels. Maybe I've finally outgrown this very small house with absolutely no place to display anything other than on the walls. The house is a rancher and a whopping 800 square feet. There is no room to put anything other than the attic but since the Christmas I fell off the attic ladder no one has been in the attic. I think it must be somewhere in the contract where only I go into the attic, which is a line or two below the part where only I decorate for Christmas, and make lunch at work. How hard can it be to climb a ladder, stick a Santa on a shelf or put a piece of bologna on bread.
Now I have empty and half empty totes sitting around waiting to go back out into the shed only to be dragged back in when I have to undo this what passes for decorating in the hamster cage.
Most of this is my fault, of course. If I cleaned the place once in awhile maybe I'd be inspired to decorate but living in a house of men, how frou frou can one get? I need to do something. Need some color and splash but have no idea what to do.
Tonight I had to take younger son to his court mandated AA and noticed again how self centered he is. I made the mistake of trying to talk about myself and only ended up in tears once he was safely inside AA and couldn't see me. I didn't even have it in me to drive someplace warm and lighted to wait for him. Instead I sat in the cold dark car and wept. Seems younger son told me something that older son has said that has, if not broken, definitely dented my heart. I know people would look at me oddly if I admitted to what he said but for me... well... it's just one more thing I doubt my fragile self can handle.
I think I'm lonely and yet I'm the one to squirrel myself away in my craft room each night. As hard as the library job had been for me at least I could be creative occasionally where others could see or I could bounce ideas off people but now I'm working with the husband who does not have a creative bone in his body. In fact today he said that the glittery snowflakes I was handing from the blue garland swags over the windows at the office would look better if they were red. Whit walls, blue garland, red snowflakes.... sigh. See not a single creative bone.
I suppose I should just tke my whining miserable self off to bed. I should also delete this but I won't. Maybe if I send my grumps out into the world, they will be unable to find their way back home. I can only hope.
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