Happy New Year

Yes, yes…I am lame enough to be sitting at home blogging instead of ringing in the new year somewhere loud and crowded.  I’m not a huge party animal though.  Sorry to disappoint.

My Christmas was lovely and quiet.  DH and I stayed right here at home by ourselves and loved every minute of it.  I must have been good since BRUNO MARS made it into my stocking!!

I’ve been thinking a lot about the upcoming year and what I want to get out of it.  I’ve been doing a lot of reading that I really want to share.  I’ve been gritting my teeth at the stupidity at work.  Absolutely none of this has made it onto here, but it will soon.  My thoughts need to get back to being organized, and I really, really miss you all.

If anyone else is lame and at home right now like me, I wish you a wonderful night.

Did I Hear You Correctly?

I had someone ask who the author of the Diary of Anne Frank was today.

There are no words…

Don’t I Deserve A Good Christmas Gift This Year?

Oh, the things I would do to Bruno Mars.  That man is all sorts of caramelly Latino goodness.  Maybe it’s the lyrics talking or maybe I just have a thing for delicious South of the Border men.

Perhaps that was odd, but I feel better having said it.

I didn’t want to sit down here and complain yet again.  My moods have been like a ping pong ball lately, and tonight is definitely not a good moment.  Bruno was my attempt at trying to turn that around. Grenade and Just the Way You put me in tears lately, but it’s worth it.

The visit with the family went alright.  I truly admire people who like their family, even after spending extended time with them.  I think people who live near their family should be given some sort of a medal.  I cannot be myself with my family, and that just doesn’t fly with me anymore.  My parents especially have never been on the same page as me.  We don’t think the same.  We don’t share similar opinions.  Nothing of substance can be discussed between us.  After about three days, I’ve had about all I can take.  That being said, I do (sometimes) start to miss them and want those few laughs.  Sometime I’ll try and sort through my mother and I’s tug of war with my mental illness (or any mental illness for that matter), but I can’t tackle that now.  I don’t know what I was thinking, but I went for my birthday too.  I like spending my birthday quietly.  Its rather uneventful, but I don’t like a huge fuss….  There was a huge fuss.

Throw in the whole non-baby thing going on right now, and it was a tough trip.  We were planning and maybe even starting to look forward to telling our family while we were there.  Not having news to share anymore made for a ginormous elephant on the vacation with us except only DH and I could see it.  I was ready to come home.

Really, we’re doing outstanding with the non-baby.  At isolated moments I’ll burst into tears or furiously hate someone, but they are very few and far in between (really).  I do my 20 minutes of crying, and then I’m good.  We’re getting sad not that there’s a non-baby we’re missing but for things like missing the smile it was going to give our parents.  It’s a very weird experience.  I think I cry more at songs on the radio because they remind me how incredibly caring and supportive DH has been than I do at putting baby clothes away because we’re not going to need them.

DH and I were talking the other day, and we’re attributing most of this emotional mess to still decompressing from the deployment.  I never cried and threw a tantrum and really grieved for the shittiness of that time.  If I broke down, there was no one here to clean up the mess.  I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m an emotional person.  Some people experience the world and remember events based on smell or music or food.  I have a strong emotional reaction to everything around me, and it leaves an imprint that I will forever associate with that thing or occurrence.  I didn’t let myself do that while he was gone, but all those emotional markers are still there.  I’ve got to do all my crying and laughing that I’ve stored up.  It’s bubbling to the surface at the same time the non-baby bubbles are, which is making for an unpredictable cocktail of emotion.  (Ha!  I totally just envisioned Ron Burgundy in the phone booth right now!)

That being said, I’m going really good.  I’m having my moments, but aren’t the holidays rough for everyone?  I’m determined to get back to my bloggity life and my bloggity friends.  I miss being here.  I miss putting my thoughts in order.  I promise the new year will bring something other than spandex and depressing I-hate-everything-right-now musings.

But please, seriously, if anyone knows Santa and wants to put in a good word for me, I’d really, really like a life-size/real Bruno Mars doll this year for Christmas.

Public Service Announcement

Lumps…oh so  many lumps!

What is with everyone wearing spandex?  This many people cannot have suddenly taken up biking.

It isn’t pretty, people!  Even if you have a decent figure, spandex creates bulges and lumps and horrible, horrible chafeage that should not occur.  Please, for the sake of my eyes and those of all humanity, put away any and all clothes that you have to paint on, lay down to shimmy into, or in general stretches to three times its size to cover you.