Lucky Girl

As a little girl I loved to sit in the grass and pick four leaf clovers. I still find them in between the pages of books when I’m reading to my daughter. They fall out, pale yellow and 20+ years old, but still lovely and perfectly flat. Four perfect leaves, reminding me to always believe in magic.

πŸ™‚

It’s one of those treasured memories of being a kid. It’s a gift that runs in our family, the uncanny ability to find four-leaf clovers by the dozen. My poor mom (and my son) can’t find them. My daughter made bookmarks out of them for her birthday party last year. It delights her in the same way it’s always delighted me. Especially when you pick one and give it to someone who’s never found one.

Watching their face light up with something so simple and free, it’s a little slice of the easy joy of childhood, there for the finding, if you are so lucky.

Nature’s tiny insignificant treasure. A four leaf clover offering you the potential for good luck. It still makes me smile, and I’ve done my fair share of depleting the supply.

So I did what comes naturally….

I found a permanent one, by way of my favorite tattoo genius, Melissa. I love it just as much as my many aged treasures tucked in the pages of my favorite books.

Floating a few inches off the ground on the perfection of a day spent with my baby girl, my friends and my favorite co-workers. Iced with a kiss.

Who has two thumbs and a permanent four-leaf clover?

A very lucky girl, indeed.

Lessons Learned

What’s the point of making New Years Resolutions? I’d rather reflect on the shit I actually accomplished in the last year.

With more hits in a week than the first three years I blogged, combined… now seems like as good a time as any. So we’re two weeks into 2011, I sort of move on my own time frame.

I grew an acre of vegetables in my ridiculously large garden, in spite of the Dirty Boat Stealing asshole telling me I couldn’t do it without him. There’s nothing like raw hate and sheer stubbornness to motivate a girl right into vegetable hoarding.

I learned how to let go, how to love someone without expectations and how to face disappointment with a smile. Ok maybe not a smile

I learned to say no…. and mean it. I retired my job as a doormat.

I earned my fins… and learned to be quite the Shark, myself.

I got my first tattoo… and my second…. and my third. Each one more significant than the last. Always spontaneously and they’ve already taught me to embrace what I love. I realized the value of Kanji first hand last week when a lady was glaring at my tattoo and finally asked what it meant. Being that I didn’t want to go into my whole Shark FAQ… I told her it meant something else. Three cheers for Japanese.

I learned to buy condoms…. and admitted to hating silent sex.

I held my ground… or didn’t… that night is still fuzzy. Here’s hoping, how’s that?

I sharpened my claws and learned to truly enjoy being a bit of a cougar.

I realized how much sexier men are when they’re over 30. If he could say yes, he’d be perfect.

I reminded myself to focus on what’s truly important. I learned to embrace my scandal.

I’ve been peed on… and…. well… whoa.

I continue to love a good tease. Regardless of how frustrated it makes me.

I tortured a nice boyfriend… and outed him on my blog…Β  I learned that sometimes an apology is all you can give when you’ve been an asshole.

I had the best birthday ever, with a healing intact family, and an adorable boy who danced my feet off.

I accepted what I couldn’t change, and moved the hell on. I put my fine ass on the internet. Thankyouverymuch.

I ran over the dog. FML. Poor Emma…

I had to make a list of the men in my life… and should update it…

I learned to embrace my dress & heels habit… and use it to my advantage.

I avoided making the biggest mistake of my life… and was reintroduced to my sexuality by a divine man in a suit. God bless Armani.

and I fell in love… and it didn’t end well…

Live & Learn

πŸ™‚

30 Days of Truth, Day 25

Day 25 β†’ The reason you believe you’re still alive today.

It seemed fitting to pick back up with this infernal month of prompts… it being the 25th and all.

Hmmm. The reason I’m still alive?

Because I’m so damned stubborn. Stubborn doesn’t even cover it… perhaps contrary is a better word. Hot & cold… It’s true. I love what I can’t have, don’t want what is thrown at me and work hard to play more.

I do things the hard way.

I don’t read directions.

I think I know everything.

I sort of do…. lol πŸ™‚

More than anything though? I’m determined to DO IT MYSELF. Like a willful three old child… I’m absolutely convinced that anything is possible… and if I put my mind to it? I can do & learn anything.

I blame my mom for this level of confidence…

I heard a million times as a child “I wish you would apply yourself. If you would just try, you could accomplish anything.”

and then I found Google…. and I believed.

I’ve rewired all of the electrical lines in my garage… I’ve installed hard wood flooring. I’ve done crown moulding and plumbing (uck!) and replaced a hot water heater (double yuck). I’ve plumbed my refrigerators water & ice maker, and ran the statelite lines through the NASTY spray insulation in the attic. (triple yuck!!!) all with the help of my beloved Google.

I’m impatient.

I don’t like to wait…

and I don’t like to hear the word…

NO.

So if I’m met with reluctance… I don’t resent it… but I don’t wait either… I GTS… and do it myself.

Stubborn may be a huge pain in the ass… but stubborn gets shit done.

πŸ™‚

30 Days of Truth, Day 21

30 Days of Truth, Day 21 – (scenario) Your best friend is in an accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?

This is one of those days I’ve had to avoid for a while. It hit a little too close to home and I didn’t want to write about it. One more reason to blog… my blog= my universe. I’ve gotten 3 emails asking me to continue… ok ok ok.

My best friend died in 2002.She was 68 and incredibly important to me.

I met her in 1995… 18 years old , pregnant and living with my high school sweetheart. She became like a best friend, teacher & Grandmother all in one. She lived in the trailer next to ours and I was 8 1/2 months pregnant with our son (@ 18 years old) and mowing the lawn. I thought she was going to have a heart attack when she looked out the window and saw how pregnant I was. She came running out with lemonade and an offer to finish it for me and we were best friends from then on. She was a grandmother to our son, and our daughter 5 years later. Vera was … words fail me actually- sometimes it’s impossible to describe how important some people are in your life.

Losing her made me reconsider everything in my life.

She always worried I wasn’t happy. She always said I was doing/giving/being someone I wasn’t… too much. She was right. Her death marked the beginning of my marriage’s unraveling. I’d been planning on having lunch with her the next day- and she’d gotten mad at me the last time we talked.

V- I hate your house. I want you to sell it and move back here.

J- I know you do. I miss you too. But you don’t mean that. How about we put your trailer here?

V- I’m sorry. I love you.

J- I love you too.

She died that night.Β  The neighbor called me the next day. Absolutely the saddest day of my life. A day that will make me appreciate and be kind to my ex-husband forever. He came home and took care of everything that day. He helped remind me that everything would be ok. He drove me to pick out her clothes. He was there for me in the hardest moment of my life when I felt like the world had come to a screeching halt. I couldn’t understand why people still drove around and the evening news was still on. It really devastated me.

and if I hadn’t called and talked to her, she would have died being angry at me…. and I don’t know how anyone could live with that. I’ve learned a great lesson in losing Vera.

I say “I Love You” too much. I smile at everybody (ok, not all the time, but most) I give people extra change if they need it. I buy the shitty over-priced cookies from the school cookie dough fundraiser because it’s important to my daughter (even though mine are much better and an 1/8th of the cost). Because I’d rather go out on good terms with everyone and I’d rather lose someone who knows in their soul that I love them. I’d rather err on the side of loving too much, too easily and out loud.

Thanks to Vera Lou- who used to sing “My Buddy” to me on my answering machine when she missed me.

πŸ™‚

30 Days of Truth, Day 19

30 Days of Truth, Day 19 β†’ What do you think of religion?

Religion is a tough one for me. I was raised by atheist parents, essentially. My step father was Rosicrucian. My mother was raised Mormon. Neither really said much about it. Occasionally my mother would decide we should be going to church and we’d go for a few weeks. Any sign of intolerance or bizarre religious teachings and we were back to staying home on Sunday mornings. Something we all preferred.

Until my son was born three months before my nineteenth birthday with a rare eye condition, leaving him completely blind in his right eye. We flew over to an eye hospital to have him evaluated for eye surgery when he was 3 weeks old. All I could do was hold him, nurse him… and cry. At the time I was surrounded by other mothers who had prayer to fall back on. They were so much more at ease with the situation. I was lost. Thinking about all the things he wouldn’t do… and feeling responsible, somehow. I’d been a saint my entire pregnancy. Several of my friends had partied through theirs…. and my baby was the only one who could only see with one eye. I was angry at the world.

My dear Grandma Blanche told me to go to church. She said she didn’t care where I wanted to go, but told me it would offer me some comfort. We tried all of them. I could write a book on that whole ordeal. We are most comfortable in the Catholic church, something that delighted her because she’s also Catholic. She’s also my Godmother.

I love Mass. It makes me feel a million times better. Like a big reset button on my life. However- I think a lot of it is completely bullshit. I’m a salad bar Christian. I struggle with believing any of it given the way I was raised, but I absolutely have to give respect to how much better I feel after I go.

I think religion is to comfort you when you don’t know how to comfort yourself. Plain and simple. When you need to be reminded to do the right thing- you can listen to yourself or you can look to your faith in religion.

It’s a hard one to swallow- for sure- but if you can? You have more than yourself to rely on when shit goes south…and that certainly can’t hurt.