my bestest friend. mrasnake

I have recently been vomiting words and feelings and emotions and bitchy-ness all over my blog part of the world. It’s overwhelmed me to spill it like I have. I am sure it has scared some folks off. But I might be ok with that. I have always said that if you don’t like me for me, it’s your loss… not mine.

I am a friendly person. I love my friends. I love my family. I love people. I love love. I will do anything for you. I will not do what is right for me, just to do what is right for someone else (this is a fault, I know). I am caring. I am funny. I am passionate. I am loud and honest.

On the other hand, I can be a lot of negative things. Overbearing, loud, honest, obnoxious, loud, talkative, loud, and maybe a little needy.  I am learning that I don’t like to be alone. I am trying to deal with the everyday loneliness that comes with not having a partner to spill everything to. Last night, I found myself drinking beer at 445pm, alone. Eating Mac and cheese. Sitting by the pool, talking to Levi. He’s a pretty good listener. And cute.

It may kill me, but I will learn to enjoy this time alone. During all the years of being someones girlfriend, wife, mother, daughter, employee, I yearned for “me time”. Now that I have it, I just want to be some bodies something. I think if I had my own place and wasn’t just living out of my suitcase in my temporary home I could enjoy “me time” more. I would have my own place and my own stuff.  I could cook, entertain friends, craft etc. For now my time consists of me being utterly bored out of my skull.

In the past week or so I have found myself blogging about real things. Not just snip it of my life in pictures. I realize some of it has just turned into random rambling. But I feel ok about it. I have received some really good feed back about my real emotion blogs.

One of my most recent blog comments came from my best friend, Steph.

This girl has known me basically my entire life. We became friends after I chewed out a girl named Nicole in 4th(?) grade. (I am learning that I was obviously a bitch in school.) Anyway, she and I have been through all the things two girls can in 20+ years. I received the following comment from her this morning. She knows me pretty well…

OK I am typing this not to make you cry but… I am loving the latest blogs, brings me back to the Melissa I grew up with and cherish as a friend!! When you stayed at the house did you by chance pull out our notebooks? I have them in the chest and laugh hysterically at the every time I read them!

Stephanie was never an ooey-gooey kinda emotional girl. Having that baby has changed her some! She also knows that I cry. A lot. So the warning was well received and made me giggle. She is an amazing friend.While  house/dog sitting for her a few weeks ago,  I asked her where her year books were.  I needed them to go year book  stalking looking for a guy that I had met who remembered me from school. (He told me I was mean to him in jr high. I see a pattern here.)

I only wish I had known our notebooks were in that same chest. Those notebooks are years and years of tween/teenage girl silliness. We didn’t just write notes and pass them. We had ENTIRE note books that we would write in and pass in between classes. I think she and I now have a date with a few drinks and those notebooks. It will be hysterical to look back and laugh at what we thought we knew about life. reminiscing with Steph is one of my favorite things to do. I really wish I had some pictures of me and Steph when we were kids to post. But they are packed up in storage somewhere.  We spent so much of our childhood/adulthood laughing. There are still a few things that we can mention that immediately send us into fits of laughter. (the “smokey falling of the bed” incident is high up there).

I am so thankful to have her in my life. She is never afraid to laugh at me, tell me I am crazy, listen to me cry, or subject me to her perverted husband. Plus she let’s me play aunt to her little one. My almost daily phone calls to her usually end in us laughing about my crazy boy stories, or a funny, cute, she’s too smart for her own good Madalyn story.

There is just something about good friends. And I have a great one in Stephanie.

(mrasnake)

-m

hormonal blogging, it’s what I do.

I think phones should come with some sort of breathalyzer app. That way I can’t send inappropriate or multiple texts to the same person after I have had a few.

I think I shouldn’t be allowed to text, tweet, blog,or facebook while pms-ing. Or talk to people.

It gets ugly/funny fast.

I want chocolate. And tequila. (ohh do they make chocolate tequila?) I want to cry and laugh and love and hide under a rock.

When I was younger I filled notebook after notebook with words. Poems, Stories and scribbles from the depth of my mind. When the urge struck me to “get it out” I would grab the closest scrap paper and start writing. Quite often, in the bottom of my purse, I would find napkins covered with words. Now I find myself opening wordpress and spilling it into “Add New Post”. Or using the notepad function on my iphone. Days later I go back and re-read. Sometimes I delete them. Sometimes I put them out there for the world (and the 3 of you that read this) to laugh at.

I still go back and read through those notebooks. It’s a nice to journey back through my youth and my emotions from that time. Before and after posting someone call the psych ward. get my room ready the other day, I had doubts. I started it as something that was going to be funny. By the end I was crying, remembering the good and bad things that have made me who I am. I was worried about what people would think and whisper about me behind my back. Then I realized that it probably wouldn’t be any different then what they say to my face.

Numerous people commented and made me feel better about throwing myself out there.

Amy from Fix it or Deal said “This isn’t crazy. This is life. Real, kick you in the ass life.” reading those words reminded me that life really isn’t all rainbows and puppy dogs. Most of the time it’s real, raw emotion.

My sweet cousin Amanda reminded me that blogging is similar to those notebooks I go back and read by saying “I’m glad you posted this and years later you will be too. It’s who you are right now.”

And Brooke aka shutterboo reminded me to “Just surround yourself with people you love, people that love you and live everyday looking forward to the next. And lots of beer.” I like the way this girl thinks!

I guess this is my way of saying thanks to all you people who come and read my crazy hormonal blogging. Thanks even more for sending me an encouraging word about them via blog or facebook comments, text messages, emails or even phone calls. I may not be the best writer, I splice commas (I don’t even know what that means) and I thank god for spell check every day. But, to be able to just spill emotions onto a computer screen and have so much love and support come back… it’s amazing.  You folks are amazing.

-m

I could spend days in Pittsburgh, PA with just my camera

I was in Pittsburgh for 2.5 days for work. When you travel for work you don’t really get to do much sight seeing. We were pretty luck to be able to take a detour to Mars when we got there. We also spent an evening in downtown Pittsburg at the Heinz History Center.

I will be back later this week with some funnies from the museum. But for now, I am here to show you bridges and houses.

I don’t know the exact number but Pitt has A LOT of bridges. And A LOT of really old houses that look like they are going to fall down at any second. They also look like people actually live in them. I can’t imagine that many of the houses I saw were very “winter proof”. But I wanted to take pictures of them all. I am a sucker for all things old and falling down. I was also a passenger in a car when I was taking most of these.

I would love to go back sometime and just spend a day or 2 with my camera. I wish we had been able to explore downtown a little more. Maybe one day I can go back for fun, not work!

-m

thanks for the diagnosis Freud

I have really got to stop biting my fingernails.

Gross. I know. I have done it since I got teeth. I don’t know how to quit. It’s a habit. It’s stress related. Every once in a while I can grow my nails out. Then I just chew them all off.

When I was little my parents tried everything to make me stop. The worst was that  fingernail polish that tastes horrible. I got over the taste.

I told my dad once…(last year!) ”look, I have fingernails. I quit chewing them”. He said “Yeah right. You have been chewing your nails since you were born.” He was right. I hadn’t really quit.

I only think about trying to quit when I have bitten them to the absolute nub and they hurt for days. I am at that point now. I don’t even realize I am doing it. That’s the bad part. I am totally out of anything to bite on right now. I guess my stress level is a tiny bit high. Though I am not totally sure why.

I am aware this is some sort of oral fixation. Thank you Freud

Oral fixation

An oral fixation (also oral craving) is a fixation in the oral stage of development manifested by an obsession with stimulating the mouth (oral) first described by Sigmund Freud, who thought infants are naturally and adaptively in an oral stage, but if weaned too early or too late, may fail to resolve the conflicts of this stage and develop a maladaptive oral fixation. In later life, these people may constantly “hunger” for activities involving the mouth.^{[citation needed]}

A child who is not fed enough (neglected) or is fed too much (over-protected) may become orally fixated as an adult. It is believed that fixation in the oral stage may have one of two effects. If the child was underfed or neglected, he/she may become orally dependent and obsessed with achieving the oral stimulation of which he was deprived, learning to manipulate others to fulfill his needs rather than maturing to independence. The overly indulged child may resist growing up and try to return to that state of dependency through crying, acting helpless, demanding satisfaction, and being “needy.”^{[citation needed]}

Oral fixations are considered to contribute to over-eating, being overly talkative, smoking addictions, overindulging in sugar, chewing on straws and toothpicks, and even alcoholism (known as “oral dependent” qualities). Other symptoms include a sarcastic or “biting” personality (known as “oral sadistic” qualities). Some literatures^[who?]even suggest a link between oral fixation with oral sex where individuals fulfill their oral gratifications through phallic and ejaculant sensations. Another indicator is constant nail biting, putting fingers in the mouth as well as biting any future sexual partners they may have.^{[citation needed]}

Whoa . I could have done without reading that… being overly talkative, Check. smoking addictions, Check. chewing on straws, check. sarcastic or “biting” personality… who me? *sigh*, check. And let’s not even anazlyze those last 2 sentances.  Ok? Ok.

It’s odd, because I don’t feel like I was a neglected child. Someones got some ‘splanin to do.

 Manicures don’t help. Acrylic nails don’t help. (those are super fun to bite off, and only ruin my nails worse). I had a friend growing up whose step dad threatened to pee on her hands if he caught her chewing her nails. I think that worked for her. Maybe if I dipped my fingers in hot pepper juice every day I could quit. But I know me, I would just end up blind because I rub my eyes all the time.

I wish my hands weren’t so ugly. I have big boy hands. I actually have my mom’s hands. So I guess I don’t mind so much how they look. I see them every day and think about her. Finger nails will never make my hands cute.

I have no idea why I have shared this pointless info with you. I apologize.

-m

I went to Mars in a tiny little space ship.

When I posted on facebook recently that I would be going to Pittsburgh, PA for a work conference, my friend Russ sent me an email telling me about Mars. Thank goodness for friends who can tell me totally random places to go!

“Awesome – if you’re actually meeting in Pitt, then you’ll basically have to pass right by Mars to get from Cranberry to Pitt. It’s a little town, and there’s a spaceship in the center of town, there’s a Mars cemetary, a Mars Vet, and the Mars Post Office had a cutout of a spaceship that you stand behind to get your picture taken (think the strongman at the beach cutout type of thing). Google directions from Cranberry to Mars – the town is only 5 miles off the main road.”

I immediately went to my manager and informed her that we HAD to rent a car, and we were going to HAVE to be late to the meeting, because we HAD to go to MARS. THEY HAVE A SPACESHIP. Thankfully, she is goofy like me and was laughing at the idea.

We flew to Pittsburgh on Tuesday, grabbed a taxi to the rental car place (b/c the airport had zero cars) and booked it to Mars. Fortunately Russ was right and it was only a few miles from where we  were  staying. I googled the town for info and found very little about it. But that wikipedia page informed me that population is a whopping 1746 and there was pretty much no where to eat. We stood in the town square and took our picture with the space ship. We laughed at the Mars National Bank. We tried to eat at Mars Pizza. But it wasn’t a “dine in” kind of place. I am sure the people of Mars (btw, are called Martians!) thought I was a total fruit loop since I took dozens of pictures in that little town.

Here are the few I snapped while we hung out in Mars.

Kristi with our tiny little space ship.

Wen went in this place to see if they served lunch. It was full of candy, chocolate, cakes, cupcakes, candy, candy and candy. It smelled heavenly. We left. Quickly!  

 

 I am glad we took the time out of our day to swing through Mars. Now I can say I have been if anyone ever asks!

-m

 

someone call the psych ward. get my room ready.

(I am posting this. Against my own will. What is this blog for, if not to put myself out there in all emotional states? Please don’t be harsh… and don’t call the little men in white coats. I am not totally bananas.)

________________________________________________________________________________________

why is dating so weird?

When did it get weird?

I remember my 1st boyfriend. His name was Michael. He kissed me in a gigantic tire on the playground. We were 4? 5?

I remember my 2nd boyfriend. He was deaf. I was the only kid in the class that could talk to him using the little bit of sign language my mom had taught me. We were 6?

I remember a little boy in 1st grade that told me in the lunch room that he was going to marry me and I was going to have his babies. We were friends all the way through graduation. High school graduation. I had a crush on him the entire 12 years.

I remember when it was “you like me, I like you.” Then all of a sudden you were “going together”. Though you were 10, 11, 12,13 and couldn’t actually GO anywhere. Maybe a football game. Where you walked around and never actually watched any football. You wrote notes. Hundreds of them. Stupid notes that meant nothing. But you kept them forever in a tin can in your room. Just in case you got married later so you could have them. You throw the notes away. But you forever remember the boy. You might even “friend” him later on something that wasn’t even invented when you kissed him after/before a football game.

Then you are 14, 15, 16 and it turns into more than hand holding and football games. You can actually go to the movies. (my dad took me and my boyfriend on our first date). Eventually one of you gets a car. You can go hang out after school. Go parking at the softball park that’s not been built yet. Drive yourself to the movies. Write each other notes. Hundreds of them. eventually you throw them away. Make eachother Birthday/Christmas presents. Spill grape juice in your spaghetti plate. fight, cry, make up, break up. Don’t speak.

17, 18, 19. Real love can happen here. It does happen here. A lot.  For a lot of people. It works for some, not for others. This is where you are formed. You learn love, you learn hurt, you learn trust and heart-break. You learn friendship. You work together, live together, love together. Or you live far away from each other, you think you can make it work. Time, age, distance and youth have it out for you. Or you love someone your parents don’t agree with and you have to hide it. How ever it happens, you have that first love. You write letters. You keep them in a shoebox. You should throw them away. But can’t and you hold on to them for too long. unopened. pointless. It ends. You cry for years.

20, 21 life slaps you in the face and you make bad choices. You use those bad choices to make better choices. You still make bad choices.

 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28 you date. you fall in love. you forget all the other love you thought you knew. you get married. have a family. take care of bills and houses and dogs and cats and hamsters and kids and dying mothers. things are good. things are horrible. You dance in the kitchen. You have cookouts. You throw vegetables at the trampoline. You write notes, and cards, and letters, you text, you email, you spell stuff out in magnets on the fridge. You build a life. Then you let it fall down around you. You sign papers. You pack boxes. You question what to do with all that love. You tape it up in a box. To be opened later. When you can deal with it. If you can ever deal with it.

28, 29, 30. You think you have this shit figured out. You don’t. You let yourself trust and love. You get let down again.

You keep your head up. You look toward the future. You hope for the best. You jump in when it feels right. You end it when it doesn’t.

(I started this light-heartedly. Just wanting to get something out of my head and onto “paper” and this is not exactly what I expected from me.)

When did dating get weird? At 30. That’s when. Or maybe it’s just me. It’s me.

You meet. You like. You laugh. You start confessing baggage and current life issues within the 1st hour. Because what else is there to talk about?  My friend said something to the effect today while we were talking about this “hi my name is… I am 30,  I had chicken pox when I was 12, my favorite color is blue, I have been married 4 times, I take meds, I like dogs.”  That’s not exactly the quote, but her point was that it is no longer what dating was before. It’s less cutsey and more real. By the time she got to “I like dogs” I was crying from laughing so hard.

So it got weird at 30. For me. Probably because I am 30. And dating other 30+ year olds, with baggage as big, deep, beat-up and full of drama as my own.   We have so much baggage and past that comes with us at 30. You might as well lay it on the table, because it will end up there anyway. Better to get it out in the open so you can run screaming after then first date, and not after the 10th. I like it this way. It works for me. Maybe not for some. But for me.

I think why it’s harder when you are older is because, well, you are older. Time is ticking. When you were little, the “old” people always said “when you get old, time flies”. THEY WEREN’T LYING. The “older” I get, the more my dreams and goals are slipping away. The more I look up and it’s almost Christmas. Again. When you are in your 20′s you have time. Tons of it. And I know, even in my 30′s, I have time. Tons of it. But the clock is louder. It ticks faster and more irregular. It needs a little more attention to its gears.

I am not going to just settle for the 1st person who comes along. But I don’t want to pass someone by, who can make my life great, because I am too busy trying to make my dreams happen alone.

I have no idea where all this is going. Or where it was supposed to go.

This is what happens when I sit at home and think. I wish I could learn something from all the thinking I have had time to do. I convince myself I have it figured out. I convince myself I am ok alone. I am ok doing this shit by myself. (and I am ok.) I convince myself I don’t need anyone.  I don’t NEED anyone. But I can’t convince myself that I don’t WANT someone. I think I have it figured out.  Then maybe something comes a long and hits me upside the head. And I am put into this crazy tailspin all over again.

So. before someone calls the men in white coats on me, I guess I will shut up. I don’t even know if I can actually post this.

The rest of 30. There is not much of you left. I wonder what we will do together.

 31, 32, 33, 34… I have plans for you. They are in motion now. I have no idea how many times those plans will change. But I am in. For whatever happens.

-m

matchstick candles and crappy pictures

A couple of weeks ago we all met up at Brett, Roz and Michael’s to watch some Bama ball. We also celebrated Roz’s birthday.

(please forgive the craptastic quality of these photos. I was WAY off my game that night for some reason. Possibly a hang over. Oh No… wait, that was the week of The Migraine. I remember now. I forgive myself a little for them now.)

I love these people. Even the blurry, not in focus ones. Football watching and food nomming was in full swing.

This guy made the Key Lime Pie Lemon Icebox pie. (My bad, Lee.)  It’s the only thing we let him bring to get togethers. Well, maybe potato salad sometimes.

This was the pie. With the matchstick in the middle. Brett forgot the candles. So he improvised.

This was the flaming ball of key lime pie Lemon Icebox Pie that roz had to make a wish on.

This was the funniest moment of the night.

See… they though it was funny too. (jeff, you made the blog again!)

Happy birthday Roz. Even though I am a couple of weeks late getting this up here.

-m

The main man in my life

ok. So my main man is only 3.5 weeks old. I like them young. Gotta start early with ‘em to get one trained like I like!

I spent an afternoon the week after Oliver was born ohhing and ahhing over him and sticking my camera in his sweet little face. I got a few great shots of Oliver and his Big Brother David and about 3000 more of just my man.

These are a few of my favorite. (and it’s really hard to choose but the last one melts my heart every time.)

Somehow, I will get this baby in an Alabama onsie… but his momma wanted it, so we did it!

return of the frog hat:

I am so thankful to Michelle and Jamie for blessing me(!) with this beautiful little man. Now if I could just convince them to let me have him!

-m

I giggle about dumb things

I was scrolling through my blog posts last night on my iphone using the wordpress app. I was trying to find a blog in which I had posted some pictures of my dogs. Instead of actually finding that, I giggled my fool head off at some of the titles of my blogs… It made me wonder what in the world I was thinking when I wrote them. Most of them I couldn’t even tell you what they were about with out opening them and reading them.

Here are a few of my favorite titles… (you don’t really have to go read them, the contents might be completely lame!)

I might use the “f” word a lot in this post, beware. I really do use the f-bomb a few times too many in this one, but trust me, it’s for a good reason.

This one made me question my own sanity… and now that I am looking at it on a real computer, it’s not even an actual real post… it’s just a draft. So I see myself reusing the title in the future…My teeth hurt and it’s only monday. And the words written in the draft could be reused every monday (or tues-friday) of every week of every month of my life!

 All I wanted to do was cook a hamburger. Why did I think anyone would care about my cooking of a hamburger? I doubt it was life changing for anyone to read. Though I know, the guy at the end only reads my blog if his picture is in it.

And it’s that time of year again, so I am sure you will see my obsession for all things Pumpkin come back full force. There is just something about the colors of fall that make me all happy and giddy inside. Last year I over did it. Pumpkin cookies, Pumpkins! and More pumpkins!

Ok, I am off to spend 2 days in Atlanta for work meetings(boo). I can’t wait to have some time this weekend and next week to actually shower in my own shower and sleep in my own bed. Not to mention edit some pictures from Pittsburg and write a more interesting blog!

-m

this little piggy said wee, wee, wee

Since I haven’t had a moment to breath since landing back at home yesterday, I haven’t had a chance to reflect on my time in Pittsburg or edit any photos yet. I learned a few things though… non work related.

I learned that I am getting better at flying. No drugs required. I am not getting better at layovers or caffeine hang overs. (or regular hangovers for that matter)

I learned that Pittsburg is a place I would like to go again. There is also a town there called Mars. they have a space ship*

I learned that I can drink about 4 dirty martinis in 2 hours and basically forget my own name. But still talk about business.

I learned how to access my computer from my iphone. and get work emails on it. I promptly deleted that last option.

Ohhh and I learned that when you buy nice, sensible shoes to wear, you still get blisters. I also learned that 3 inch heels can be pretty comfy. I am currently wearing flip-flops.

I spent some time (and martinis) reflecting about my new “single-ness” and how much I like it. I also like the thought of just jumping in a car, or on a train, or plane and going… somewhere. anywhere. I will be doing this more.

I also learned that I really like “home”. Even though my home isn’t actually MINE. I was excited to get back and sleep in my (my cousins) bed. I was so happy this morning when I went down to go to work and got a big “glad you are home” hug from my aunt. Home really is where you make it.

There is a lot more. But I will save it for when I have pictures.

*For now I leave you with this one:

-m