Wednesday... Yep. That's the Title.

A couple of things occurred to me on my drive into work this morning.

First, I did not comb my crazy hair. This is only of interest (though to whom, I've no idea) because I feel like it's becoming a weird work day habit. Clearly, the only thing to do was to root around in my glove box while waiting for an errant school bus to pick-up one screaming child, then shove the rat's nest into what I believe to be a very fashionable "messy pony." I suppose a woman of a certain age should probably start giving more thought to how she looks when spending nine hours surrounded by technology geeks just proud to make it in wearing matching shoes... *snicker* It's problematic.

Profile: not my best angle.

I give passive-aggressive people the silent treatment... because it never stops being funny! 
*chortle*
*snort*
*spins in twirly chair*

Coffee should not have the same color density - or lack thereof - as tea. Good gawd, people! It's undrinkable and frankly, I don't know why you even bother. Save the prep time and go comb your hair.

"I cannot hear what you're saying, when who you are is screaming so loudly in my ear." I read that this morning and started to place it in a pointedly prominent online space. Then I didn't because the person who needs to hear it cannot possibly register anything except his own voice. And no, that snarky remark was not aimed at Mr. Man, for a change!

Lastly, I do entirely too many things I don't want to do because other people ask me to. I've never mastered the art of No Without Guilt. I suspect this is because my sibling's mother had no trouble whatsoever saying no. Might should consider maybe talking to my shrink about that... *shrug* Perhaps once he stops getting so rattled every time I say "fuck."

The One About School Starting

School started today. I know this because some jackass father in his Toyota Tundra literally tried to run me into oncoming traffic so he could “beat me” to the entrance of one of the many private schools I pass every day.

Asshole.
So I laid on the horn for about 300 yards, flipped him off as I passed, and hollered “see you tomorrow !”

I hate the “in school” year. For the next month every parent who is too afraid to allow their child to stand at the end of their own driveway – because there’s no such thing as a school bus stop anymore (shocking that kids are so fat) – will have forgotten what time they left the house five days a week for ten months during the last term, and make those of us with the sense not to have kids utterly miserable.

My summer drive is delightful, and clearly I’m bitter and resentful of its loss.

So, Dear Parents~

I’m so very sorry that your snotty-nosed, self-entitled, coddled brats are creating such havoc in your morning schedule that you’re forced to take your frustration out on everyone else on the road and will one day find yourself in a situation far worse than discovering that you’ve set your child up for failure by bestowing on him/her/it the idea that everyone deserves a ribbon, or trophy, or certificate and when they fail – and they will fail brilliantly – that YOU did this so you might as well settle in to the idea that you’re nothing more than a chauffeur and a wallet.

*takes breath*


Sincerely,

Peace.

I Yam...

I’ve spent quite a lot of time lately thinking about “stuff.” My father would have said “contemplating my navel” because there’s almost as much use in it. But still, I’m thinking… and thinking… and thinking…

Here’s something that keeps resurfacing:

*in best Popeye voice*
“I yam what I yam and that’s all that I yam.”

There have been a lot people traipsing through my life over the past several months. Some new, some returning, a couple I borrowed just to see if it could be done… and I’m wondering, where is the common thread? These things don’t just “happen.” Why are they here? What do they want? And am I attracting them or is The Universe sending them to me? And if The Universe is sending them, why? Should I be getting something from them, or are they here to take something away for themselves? I hope it’s the former and not the latter because it’s been a deluge of people, People!

Of all the "traipsters" who meandered through, one in particular made quite the quiet impression. Not for any untoward wink-and-a-smile smarminess, or random stalking. No, it’s because he’s oddly “present” all the time – a feat this ADHD kid has never mastered and finds freakishly unsettling.

This cat is like a character from a movie, so clearly I’m fascinated! And skeptical...

*squints*

He is disarmingly open. Ask him any question – and the more personal it is the more interesting his response, I’ve found. He thinks, then looks at you in a way that makes you know you’re being seen, before delivering a simple, honest, “oh-my-gawd-I-would-never-say-that-out-loud” response. It’s cool. And weird.

Recently, a group of us were out for a drinks session. After what I would consider an appropriate number of cocktails, I made some comment about heading off to “my real life.” With a face quizzically scrunched up and arms spread wide he said, “this, all of this, is your real life.” Okay, I know it sounds stupid but that seriously tossed me so far off balance, I sloshed my martini.

Have I so compartmentalized things to maintain order that I cannot reconcile all of the parts?
Can I see only the shoes boxes, not the closet?

So there I was, driving home… and thinking, thinking, thinking. Is this whirling dervish life what I want? Or is it just what I’ve created and understand? Could I learn to be present? Between you and me, I lie about being present during yoga practice. And frankly, I also lie about it during meditation. It’s really not my fault. Focus is just not my strong suit (what does that even mean? Anyone?).

Do I want to be one of those people who lives in every moment? Because that seems like a lot of work.
Maybe.
In the right company.
With vodka.
And figs…