For as much as I bitch and whine… I have a beautiful life.
Anything can be better, but when faced with the reality of my day to day existence… I smile.
I miss my son like I’d miss air if I were drowning. I’ve learned to compartmentalize it because there’s simply nothing else I can do. I miss him, I love him, and I respect his teenagehood. I hated my mother when I was his age. I love her now. That’s all I’ve got to say about that.
It’s my day off today, and I woke up late from a divinely delicious dream. I woke up smiling, which I do 90% of the time. Either at my darling girl or at the day facing me. I love my job, I love my coworkers and my tomatoes started to sprout yesterday.
I woke up to a call from my darling Miss Harley which turned into a stomach-aching giggle-fest. Laughing over boys and how silly they are. Laughing at ourselves while we’re at it.
I decided to make myself a latte and sit in the greenhouse with the stack of pages I’ve written so far, and realizing for the first time that it’s not hard to read about my trip to Puerto Rico anymore. I was batshit crazy in love with him, and it was delightful. I don’t regret it or begrudge myself the guilty pleasure.
It was bubblegum ice cream delicious. I’m at my best when I’m in love. You can’t help but have a good day around me when I’m infatuated- it’s a contact high, to put it mildly. I bake cupcakes, I sew cool shit, I knit a blue streak… I garden. I am happiest when I’m in super girlfriend mode. It’s ridiculously codependent, but it’s true.
I’ve kicked my bad habit, sigh… I’ve waved goodbye to Flintstone and I haven’t really checked my internet dating email since one of my best friend’s ex-husbands emailed me to proposition me. I feel a little dirty making fun of someone for my own entertainment. Even if it is incredibly easy. … …. and fun. Chances are good I’m going to do it again. Purely to avoid fully embracing my role as the cat lady in the neighborhood.
I rolled over to a love note from my little red… with a Reese’s peanut butter cup. My favorite…. and how can any day be anything less than perfect when you start it with peanut butter and chocolate. Seriously.
It’s sunny and bright and I have broccoli to plant and a whole day to get a tan. I throw my bathrobe over the speaker and get to planting… in black panties and garden gloves. Welcome to the beauty of single womanhood. I can plant to my favorite music, in my panties with a mimosa and my shiny purple nitrile gloves the Easter Bunny brought me. Life is beautiful.
Randomly deciding to take thai food to school and have lunch with my daughter- a treat for myself and her… and we both are addicted to the red curry. Giggling with her and her friends over the boys being so weird <and resisting the urge to tell them nothing changes in 20 years… this day is perfect with a side of laughter. One of her friends asks me if I’m her sister, lol… we laughed all the way down the hall and I kissed her cute face on a day I ordinarily wouldn’t see her. AMEN.
Oh and just when things are going swimmingly…
A bad habit sighting… and regardless of the horrible way he treats me… I swallow hard when I’m not expecting to see him. They should make a patch to shake a bad man habit… Trans-dermal crack? I don’t know… I hate being betrayed by my body, and that’s what he inspires. I hate it. I’m craving him, I hate that I have to admit it, but it’s true. Is it hot in here or is it just me?
I bolted, drove home and changed into garden gear. Facing the music in the overgrown garden that is the penance I so deserve after abandoning it last summer…well… SUCKS. I’m covering it with landscape cloth to burn off the weeds before I plant. My asparagus is coming up 🙂
The worms are 15″ long at least and things are looking like a beautiful year for a beautiful garden. I’m really truly centered and happy in my giant ridiculously overwhelmingly massive garden. It’s round. It’s beautiful. It’s me. Spending my off time with my feet in the dirt makes me a million times happier than spending them in a bar or on a date.
I poured myself a cocktail, took the price tag off my new wheelbarrow that my mama gave me as an Easter basket… and went out to face the music. Oy…
But… even the worst challenge in the garden beats the worst date. It beats Thomas. It makes me feel better, carves my body into summer hot and makes me smile to my toes.
I have fingerling potatoes planted… Rose Finn Apple and Russian Banana… with more on the way. I planted my French shallots.
I broke in my new garden gloves and broke out of my winter funk. I’m happy. Really, really happy.
I’ve been through hell, and I’ve proven that I should not be the one to choose who I’ll date- so it’s up to my friends from now on. I’m not picking again. I have horrible judgment and horrible taste. I’d rather take a year long sabbatical from men entirely, if given the option.
My seeds are sprouting. My garden is on it’s way. I found 2 newts in the cardboard pile today. I’m so delighted with the simple details that surround me that I don’t feel lonely. I watched a dozen stupid movies this week and slept like a baby. I made the perfect mustache cake. I was a mom hero for the birthday party. My darling MSOK made us all look like a million dollars in big hair, which I’ve found I love.
Life is good… and even without a Prince? It’s a pretty sweet fairytale in and of itself.