A Piece of Daydream

Wanna go to the beach?


Beaches are fantastic.
In my daydream world, I live in a small stone cottage on the edge of a dense forest and within walking distance to the sea. Daydream worlds are totally awesome for introverts because we can’t invite other people. We can put you there, like a living prop, but you can’t come. I take The Mister all the time. Look how he stretches out before me. See how the light falls on his shoulders? He smirks as I approach him. I can smell the sea.

In real life, I live in a bungalow on a wooded lot at the edge of the interstate and within walking distance of Walgreens. In real life, my husband looks just like that, and even better, looks at me like that, but I smell … is that wet dog?

Right. So real beach.
Let’s go!

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it’s pretty, and it’s got a crane for Dan

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breezy, beautiful blues

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bird blends in. hi, bird.

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no idea. took a pic, tho.

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i am hat. hat is me.

One morning at the beach, we swam near a family of dolphins while pelicans fished around us. That was majestic. Totally never happens at my house.

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Friday, 2:38am

Up reading blogs at 2am. Gah. Don’t get me wrong you guys, I love reading you, but I would rather be asleep. I’ve been so tired all week. I was cold and achy and took to my bed early and I was sleeping and then I woke up all hot. Well it wasn’t me. One of these people, whoever hates me the most, put the thermostat on 72. 72! Ugh. So hot. With a hotter cat nuzzling my feet.

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Not that cat. It was the white one, actually.

Not wanting to wake The Mister with the shining light and clickety-clack of my laptop, I came to my living room to write this and there is some loud and obnoxious thing Bubba watches on my tv. We all have our own thing. His is where the people watch other people play video games. Young people love that stuff. It makes me feel a little violent. I won’t be able to type long. I keep fighting the urge to scream SHUT THE FUCK UP! at the people who cannot hear me. Bubba, like his daddy, sleeps heavy, but I dunno that he could sleep through my yelling that six feet from his face.

My head is full of complaints on Thursday. Not right, is it?

One of my granny bowls, Pyrex, shattered on my gorgeous and terrible kitchen floor. Sassy set it to dry not far from the edge of the counter, Moo climbed said counter to put dishes away, Bubba leaned on the same counter — SMASHO! Bubba got a bunch of tiny cuts on top of one of his giant man feet and I swept it all up because it happened before my husband got home, even though cleaning up glass is his job. Bubba will heal and I still have another granny bowl just like the one that shattered. I hate my kitchen floor. Pyrex. Shattered. Damn.

I tried Noodles & Company today. I had never had it and was excited when Receptionist said she was ordering and would go pick it up. It was icky. I ate the mushrooms out of it and brought the rest home for my dog. She liked it fine.

All it does is rain.

Here’s the thing: When The Mister and I took our overnight date à l’hotel? Certain moments excluded, we watched The Weather Channel the entire time. Tis true. We watched The Weather Channel exclusively. Actively at times. Mindlessly at others. At the time, we laughed about morphing into our parents and growing older, but like, we didn’t turn it off. We marveled at the low temps and high rainfall all over our side of the country. We had intense conversations about flooding. And so, this week, as we had storms, tornadoes, outages and everything wet, we could discuss it properly, as older people do.
“Well, we knew it was coming.”
“Yes, in from Oklahoma.”
“Yes. They did say.”

We haven’t driven by the creek lately. We should do that this weekend. Maybe take the kids and comment on how high the creek is so they will know how to grow old properly. Maybe talk about tributaries and turtles…

Here are some things that haven’t floated away…

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They also haven’t been weeded for some time…

I don’t know how happy I’ll be in four hours. Hopefully my next sleeping session is cool and hard. Maybe Friday will have significantly superior highlights. I’m grateful to leave the living room at 3am, I’ll say that much.

Happy Friday Everyone!


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Friday Fun Flag Day

It’s Friday and I’m tryna get back into my bloggertine, so it’s Friday and it’s happy!

The other day, The Mister and I were textscussing whether we thought we could have a lil getaway for our anniversary at the end of the summer. Y’all know how ooey-gooey, lovey-dovey gross we get in August. Anyway, we debated a bit about weekend before or after and whether I can get a long weekend and he put in for a four-day and we grew giddy, lots of heart emojis…

Maybe we were a wee bit impatient.
August is a ways off.
There are numerous kids in our house.

Good gravy, this is a weird summer.

Sassy is lifeguarding, which means she’s in various stages of wet, red, euphoric, chilled to the bone, and exhausted. She keeps that whistle in her mouth like it’s a ming-ming (pacifier) and since she basically yells all day — but like nice yelling, like “Sir! I’m sorry, Sir, those are indoor towels!” and “Sweetie, please don’t drown the other children!” she’s significantly louder than she had been, which was, well, we just have one quiet kid. Unless he drinks.

Moo alternates between ambitious socializing and hermitting, but having not been apart from her sister in such a way, ever before in her life, has become a bit … needy.

Extra kids are here now and again.

*taps fingers*
Have I mentioned Mottern One has landed his big city job and temporarily resides here in our tiny bungalow that we bought partially because it will be perfect later when we have an emp — ? You’d think “bungalow” in itself would make it clear, but I don’t want you to think we have a big California bungalow. No, I need you to know there are only 1500 square feet here and now we have lost our dining room to the command center, our entryway stores luggage and ginormous man-shoes and our sofa isn’t a desirable sleeping spot, (I can’t imagine why!) so there’s an air mattress and then another monitor almost the size of our tv in here and did I mention it’s only temporary? Have I mentioned we have temporarily lived with other people in transitional times? My karma is super shiny clean. And I tell you what, we temporarily have a ‘babysitter’. OKAY?

The Mister booked us a room downtown tonight.
A sweet escape.

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If ever two people needed to sit in silence with a cocktail…
In a clean and tidy room…

Yeah. We gotta go.

Happy Friday Everyone!



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#ThursdayDoors — Open, Easy Breezy


I’m not sayin these are the best looking doors in Florida, although I’m a big fan of aqua, I’m just sayin this threshold might be the best feeeeeeling one in Florida.


doorfie included

These are the doors to Junkanoo restaurant, where before you even get to the front porch, the salty sea air whooshes by as though you are walking into another dimension WHERE YOU ARE NOT HOT.  The other side of this restaurant is open, open, open to the shore and it is easy breezy. Wind tunnel style, it blows your hair back, blows your clothes away from your body, blows a smile onto your face. Well, my face. I love the feeling of wind, at least above freezing. So before we even ordered cocktails or looked at the menu, I loved this place.

The food was delicious.

Still, I think the fresh sea air and the view were even more delicious than the delicious food.


#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To find other doors of interest or to share your own, click the link.

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I did not die or fall off where the sidewalk ends. I did have an excess of busy and tired, and I went on vacation and then I returned to busyness, though less.

Mottern One held down the fort, Central Command.

I’m happy to tell you that I wasn’t near as sick on this trip as I usta be. My anxiety and my vertigo did not win. I was a little wobbly when we stopped one time, but I was generally okay. I drove through traffics, alongside semis and barrels and barriers and I was okay. Not once did I have to pray for solace or remind myself to breathe. Not once did I consider squinting my eyes shut and driving off a mountainside to make it stop.


I don’t hate the drive like The Mister does. He hates it. He is destination oriented and I am journey oriented. On my own, road trips with my kids were adventures, and took twice as long, but were more fun, cause stop and smell the kudzu or whatever.

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Sergeant Mottern makes travel serious and shit. I am happy to say, he showed great restraint on this trip.

Vacation was HOT. It just be’d hot all the time. Just hot. People ask, “How was vacation?”

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Moo never complained of hot, and Sassy even commented one morning it was chilly outside (71F/21C). The Mister handles it better than I do physiologically, but he hates the hot, too. Hot. All the time, hot.

The best spot in my mother’s house is the standing-room-only one over the air vent.

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Yes, Vent. Do it to me. Mmm.

My parents have this sorta oasis of shade. They live out there like the zerds. It’s a screen-y, blind-y, artsy, porch-type thing, with beautiful landscaping. Papa had me sittin in his spot there, where the fan blew on me constantly, but I still dripped with sweat all the whole time I was outdoors.

SO my mother made me margaritas.

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My mommy loves me. And that’s why I went to south Florida on vacation.

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Fortunate Weakling is Fortunate

So Friday night, I began coughing.  I took all my allergy meds and reasoned that perhaps they’re worse right now and I need to move to daily treatment. I didn’t sleep well. I coughed a lot and spent from about early Saturday from the bed to the bathroom to the bed again. I slept until about 10 and upon rising, felt poorly. Because, I thought, I had not slept well. I thought perhaps some exhaustion, some dehydration…

The Mister turned on the air conditioning and I almost froze to death (!!!) so I went out on the porch to warm my bones. (!!!)

Not being one to let feeling poorly stop me, I set out to work in my yard. Just one strip. Just a lil.
That went faster than expected, so I did a few more sections.  It was 88 degrees outside and I never did sweat. If you know me but at all, this was not a good sign.

Yeah. So a fever, chills, a sore throat — well it was only sore when I breathed — a wretched cough, some nausea, body aches… three days of that crap. Weekend plans? What? The coughing was the worst. Even now, it’s enough to stop me in my tracks, enough that people ask me, “Are you okay?” but over the weekend, it was body-wracking, muscle-spasm-ing, rib-cracking pulmonary violence.

Zero stars, would not recommend. Or, if you’re being annoyingly positive — Top Notch Virus, splendid in its replication.

I am not good at being sick. All I do is worry about what’s causing the sick and how long I’ll be sick. It’s bad for my anxiety. Bigtime.

I was a sick kid. Lots of pink penicillin and yellow sippy cups. In rebellion, I tried the “rub some dirt on it” method when I left home and this did not work out for me. It just didn’t. We don’t need to get into it. My mother was never wrong in taking me to the doctor, I simply wanted to live more freely, with less intervention, without all the special. I would make my own decisions, see? It was all very YOLO and shit. And I learned the hard way.

No doctor has ever said to me, about me, “It will run its course. Hydrate and rest.”
Doctors have said that to me about my children, but not about me. On the other hand, I have had many doctors tell me I waited too long, blah blah blah, take these horse pills, let’s re-evaluate in 90 days, we’ll be performing emergency surgery, blah blah blah.

I’ve gotten better about choosing to go, choosing to surrender. I’ve heard that’s more important as we age. I am not going to say I’m good at it. Yet. I still err on the side of ‘it’ll pass’. This one is passing.

I’m a weakling. Without modern medicine, I’da done died twenty times over. I’m freakin fortunate regardless. I may fall ill a lot, but I’m a speedy healer. Practice makes perfect!

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A Tiny Tale of Tuesday

The Mister is cooking dinner, which gives me time to blog without ‘missing’ anything. Well, he’s frying bacon and his eggs, cause that is so time-consuming, while cooking scrambled eggs and toast takes all of five whoppin minutes.

I don’t have much in the way of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) but I don’t like to miss out on my people. My friend Lola always laughs when anyone uses the phrase “my people,” but it’s like, the best phrase. Everyone has “their peoples” hm?
Introvert me, I’m very supportive of everyone else’s FOMO. yeah, you should totally go do that, but i can’t, i have to stay home and catch up on blogland.

Sassy is watching some supernatural show. I can’t keep them straight. They all watch them. Different ones. Young pretty people in nearly constant crises because leprechauns are preying on dogs so the werewolves are uniting to usurp the banshee queen who is bringing demons up from the underworld before the unicorn loses its virginity at midnight on the annual vampire’s ball and the amulet/sword/chalice is lost to humankind forever. I made up those plot lines, but trust me, I am not exaggerating. If I look up, out of context, they look ridiculous. They’re always fighting, fucking, or dramatically pausing. High drama. So addictive.


Clearly, I don’t judge them. I, too, enjoy make-believe and their shows give me time to read and write here without actually experiencing FOMO.

Moo is performing. Her concert, she said, “Is lame. Don’t come.” One of the songs, we saw at competition, is the same word over and over ad nauseam and just when you think it’s ending, it starts again, and then again, and then when you’ve given up thinking it will end, one more time. It’s lovely musically, for about 20 measures, then you start mentally making your grocery list. If you want to listen to something while you watch paint dry, I’d recommend it with four stars.

The weather, while nice today, has generally been shit. Like overall, groan-worthy.

In contrast to that, work has generally been good. Like overall, pleasantly productive. All last week was good, too. Within the next month, four of us will take vacation, overlapping here and there. I do not know what that will be like, but I am hopeful since things are feeling more efficient than they were a month ago. Also, if we don’t vacation, we may spontaneously combust or suffer a mental break and start watering the mail and answering the plants, mk?

Oh look, dinner!


Off I go. — I’ll eat while I try to catch up, but I can’t type AND eat, not with these hands.

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SoCS — Fall From the Sky

Lately, what falls from the sky is rain. Rain, rain, rain. I love rain. It’s the best. Except when there’s too much of it as there has been in previous years and thusly I do concern myself that this May will be too rainy as in previous years. Then I don’t get my things planted and if I’m not up to my ears with basil and over my head with sunflowers by August, I do feel a bit sad.

The other day when the sky was falling, I tried to be like Dan and take pictures of pretty reflections in puddles. I am no Dan.
I will practice and one day, I will get a good one, I just know it.

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The rain is pretty on my tulips. This is one of my few remaining Queen of the Night tulips, the very dark purple people call black – surely a delicacy for squirrels. I’ve lost so many I don’t plant them anymore. When they’re gone, they’re gone.

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Went out to collect a few of my pinks — these are Darwin hybrids, some French name with too many vowels for me to remember. It’s right up there with oreilles, but like, even moooore vowels.

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While I was out there, I saw my patio is fully of whirlygigs,  helicopters, maple propellers, whathaveyou. Those are also falling from the sky, sky being trees.

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The other day, I was pulling out of my driveway and saw a big black bird hunting a squirrel. I have spent a lot of time staring at my trees, but THAT I had never seen. I told Moo about it and I said crow, but she said, “Uh huh, raven.” If Moo says it was a raven, then it was probably a raven. Well I was scared for my squirrel, but he climbed into a knothole and PHEW! Watch out for big black birds swooping in from the sky!

We’re a bit behind where we usually are seasonally. It’s usually been warmer by now. I’m wearing a sweatshirt and socks and it’s too cold to have the windows open. I’m not complaining, it’s not like summer won’t come, and I’m no fan of the hot. Hot also falls from the sky, heavy and blinding and dangerous to my skins. Ugh.

If it’s still not hot here, I’ll be hot on vacation. Vacation does not fall from the sky. You have to earn vacation. When I was interviewing for my job I told them this summer, I would need to take vacation when my husband takes his vacation and the kids are out of school, so that we can all vacation together, as a FAMILY which my previous boss struggled with. Apparently.

Yay Vacation! Yay My Mommy! My mother still lives in The South. I know, it’s very sad how I’ll be so hot. I haven’t seen my mother in years. Years.

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And there’s a beach there. And also oysters. Oysters do not fall from the sky. If they did, I would lie down, my mouth wide open, like Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. I never saw the movie, just love the book. When I was little, that book cracked me up!

I think I’ve run out of steam – stream? on things that fall from the sky. How bout more of what comes up from the ground?

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Stream of Consciousness Saturday — SoCS ‘fall from the sky’ is brought to you by LindaGHill

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SoCS – Exposed

It’s been eight-and-a-half years since I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder. In all the time I’ve been aware of having anxiety disorder, I have been a careful student of its manifestations. What I know is that when I tell myself some physical symptom is just anxiety often enough and long enough, my anxiety stops bothering me about that particular and switches to another.

It’s been thirteen years and a month since I was diagnosed with OCD. I’ve long since gotten the promotion to OCD tendencies. I’m still super good at obsessing, but less with interference into my daily life. When I was a youth, people called it dwelling. Dwelling sounds nicer, reminiscent of thatched roofs and chipped paned windows, but it’s more like being locked in. Stuck.

I have stopped obsessively cleaning. I stopped that in 2012. As far as I’m concerned that’s one of my greatest accomplishments. There’s a whole mess, haha mess, of words there, but that’s not where we’re going.

Motherhood keeps me leaning over the hole looking in. Also not where we’re going, but worth mentioning.

I know, as well as any of you, that the thoughts in my head are irrational, but that isn’t enough to stop me from having them, although most often it’s enough to stop me from acting on them.

Car crashes do happen every day.
People do get abducted.
Houses do burn down.

If I never leave the house and never let my kids leave the house and none of us ever ride in a car, how much life can we live? So like, we buy insurance and give the kids phones and don’t leave hot things plugged in after use.  Space heater, iron, hot tools. I don’t run the dryer when I’m not home. I don’t bake stuff in my oven all day while I’m gone. Crock pot? Hell no.

I have never failed to secure the hot things in my home. Not once. I’ve turned around more times than I can count and I’ve never failed. I’ve driven back to work to make sure I unplugged my space heater. I’ve even texted my boss to ask her to check! I’ve driven back home to assure myself that no one left any hot danger. Not once have I found hot danger. It’s irrational.

Do not use your logic to remind me there’s electricity running through every wall in my house or that there are flames in the furnace and the water heater, or that I live in a wooded area or that lightning can start a fire, cause I know, okay, but I don’t obsess about any of that.

what if moo left the kettle on? or her oatmeal pot? did she have the iron out this morning? did i unplug my straightening iron? omg, did sassy straighten her hair in the main bath? think, joey, was her hair straight this morning? well you’re going to have to go back. well that’s just stupid, isn’t it? do you really want to make that merge onto the ramp AGAIN? have you ever found anything on, ever? no. then why must you check? because obsessing. must relieve obsession. anxiety paralyzing. could happen. is possible. 


So, like Rachel and the crazy fire/flood/baby/bird story, I recently did a very good job at checking all the hot things in the house (supportive ritual occurs one time) and felt confident in my departure. And then I drove for about five minutes and began to wonder if I had replaced the batteries in the charger.

Anxiety couldn’t fucking let me win one, could it? No. I said NO. I said to myself if the kitten has batted loose batteries off the counter and they then ran into errant silverware on the floor and started a fucking fire, well so be it, because i never liked that tile anyway.

I mean — What are the odds? Isn’t that right up there with fire/flood/baby/bird? I think so.


Stream of Consciousness Saturday — SoCS ‘exp’ is brought to you by LindaGHill

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#ThursdayDoors — Good Intentions

If I only had a door…

Okay, I have a lot of doors. I may even have hordes of doors, as I have been hoarding them, because

If I only had the time…

Well I just don’t. I mean, we all get the same amount of time in each day, but I’ve been working over a lot, some because work is crazed and some because I have been out for appointments, and if you can imagine, while I’m off seeing doctors or hauling kids to doctors, no one does my work.

Every day, Moo tells me stories and Sassy spills the tea. Can’t miss that stuff.
I must affectionate my beloved, the children, and the animals.

Bitches gotta eat, and sometimes they gotta cook. If there’s enough goin on, a bitch may even have to do dishes. Sometimes a bitch does a random chore a day. Sometimes people come to our house. Sometimes they just drop by, like a bitch ain’t even tryina chill on her sofa with some grilled cheese and a crime drama. I sometimes choose to read. Sometimes choose to read blogs.

I try to squeeze in some exercise, with fresh air if I can, because tryina stay baby hippopotamus size so I may live longer, as livin longer will increase the opportunity to consume more ice cream.

Then there are things I want to do, like paint my nails or write a letter to a friend. Prolly just leave nail polish on my side table for two weeks and carry the pretty card around in my bag for a month.
*has a whole drawer of fings for Orb*
*has a fing on the bookshelf for Benson*
*has a card in her bag for True*
Will she mail them? Will she?

My friends and extended family don’t get my attention much. I mailed my mother a note in a pretty card, put a photo of her granddaughter it, and when she got it, she was so happy, she acted like I had given her another grandchild. Clearly I have neglected my mother.

I see memes on social media about how we’re never too busy to make time for the people who are truly important and I think oh shit, that might be about me and then I think I don’t even make enough time for myself, so if it’s about me, they gonna hafta let it go, like I test the stretch of my green trousers because pad Thai is better than yoga, like I let my right eyebrow grow under my hair like a psychotic centipede, like how I am overdue for my blood panel.

Unfortunately, adult responsibilities enter the time zone as well. No one wants to do things or or deal with things or make phone calls about things but there’s important shit ya just gotta do. For me, it’s about 95% first world problems, 4% actual problems, and 1% whiny bitch wishes she was a more powerful witch who could replicate herself so that at least one of her could just enjoy one fucking moment of peace.

There must always be Om.

People be all, Jesus Take The Wheel, and I’m over here like, “ANYONE, take the list!” Fortunately, The Mister does sometimes take the list. Heart-heart-gush-gush.

It seems I can only do two to three, maybe four of the non-essential things per evening. Except on Friday. On Friday, I can do most things? Fridays are magical.

Many nights, I just want my comfies, my bed, my husband, and some tv. My happy place is rubbing my feet across the quilt while I rest in the crook of The Mister’s arm, my head on his chest. Cue the sleep. Mmm, sleeeeeeeep. Have I mentioned I’m a much better sleeper these days?

I cannot seem to get up earlier to link a blog post. I can get up early on the weekend, which I do NOT understand, and which I recognize may signify I’ve reached adulthood, but there is nothin, I mean nothin that can get me out of bed one moment earlier. One day, I got ready faster and I was pissed, because I could have stayed in my bed another seven minutes.

This month has been so busy, that when I saw Earth Day in my social media feeds, I was all, they must do it earlier in europe… and then I realized …yeah, five to seven hours earlier, holy crap it’s almost may!

How we got here, I dunno. I feel like there was a lotta typin and drivin? Non? Two months without doors. I swear, I’ve had the BEST of intentions.


park shed


dr’s office


tipsy trolley

#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link.

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