audio posts

"honest to truth" coping

Life is slowly adjusting to our new rhythm of work and school.  Mark and I have worked out a pretty decent way to care for the kids, me spending most days shuttling them to and fro while Mark works; then I take them to the theatre to hand off to him so he can feed and put them to bed while I work.  They almost always have a parent caring for them (when not at school, of course) and only one day a week have I turned to a friend to help make it all work.  I don't get to sing them to sleep anymore, unless it's my night off from the theatre, but I always sneak in a peak at their little faces and sometimes get a sleepy, "Mama" sigh from one or the other.  They've started sleeping together, both smashed into Anya's single bed, and I cherish seeing them tucked into each other, one had resting on the others chest or their backs lined up against the other, their breathing in an almost perfect unison.  We're making plans to redo their room so that sleeping together will be easier, while they still have the option of sleeping apart if they so choose.  Besides, that room is ready for an over haul, especially if it means we can get rid of a bunch of their broken, unused or simply annoying toys.

life without a roof is romantic

our bed on the deck

About a week ago the weather turned ridiculously hot, sending temperatures into the high 90's IN MY LIVING ROOM and even higher outside.  It was 106° as I passed the car dealership one day and I was so very thankful that the A/C in my car had decided to work that day.  The Mister and I spent a couple sweltering nights in our bed in the sky before giving up and moving outdoors.  We have a fold out bed on the deck and we dressed it with sheets, fell helpless and sweaty into it and prayed for sleep.  We were both thrilled when we awoke around 3am shivering and cuddled into each other with a kind of satisfaction we hadn't felt since the early days of our relationship when the mere act of spooning made us giddy and devoted.  We've been sleeping out there ever since.

Employment leads to drinking. It's been proven.

Something kinda crazy happened today.

I got a job.

Like a real one, with hours and responsibility and hot-damn pay.

Nope, totally didn't see that coming.

Basically, I'm going to be working at the same theatre that the Mister does, only opposite hours.  Those hours both suck and are perfect.  I'll be able to take the kids with me to the theatre, hand them off to the Mister, he'll take them home and feed them and put them to bed, all while I work my butt off in a job I have no idea how to do.  Also? I'll never see my husband again.

Sounds like fun, no?

No.

But, it's good money and considering that the Mister's job ends at the start of 2010, it'll be nice to be able to squirrel away some money so we don't have to sell the children come January.

As a result of all this, I had to go out with some girlfriends and drink too much.

No really, I HAD TO.

Don't question it.

We went to this totally cool place with pink drinks and a cabana and really delicious food and I had TWO drinks and it turns out that makes me drunk.  Who'd had thunk it?

So I'm home and sober and yet, still loopy.  YAY!

I have a job.

Someone save me.

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I decided to talk at you. Wanna Listen?

Now with more vocal flavor!

I can't sleep.  Again.  'Cause my brain won't shut up.

So I'm hanging out in the office in the sky, which we're thinking of calling the Crows Nest to satisfy Mark's ever increasing need to connect to sailboats, and I'm testing out vocal recordings of my posts.  I've added audio files to a couple of these things and I'd like you all to frolic through and take a listen, tell me what you think.  Do I sound as crazy as I feel these days?  Do I put you to sleep?  Are you experiencing technical difficulties?  Lemme know.  I'm terribly curious to see how this multi-media concept of blogging goes over with the wannabe hippie crowd.

If you want to just jump straight to it, you can listen to this post.

Listen to all others by clicking here.

New kind of religion?

The girls spent the night at Grandma's house last night which meant they attended church with my mom and step-dad in the morning.  Usually, Mom is singing in the choir, so she just drops them off in the little daycare room and they don't actually get much "church" exposure.  Today, however, Mom wasn't singing (which I'm sure has a juicy story attached) so she brought them in with her until the Children's Sermon, after which they went to hang out in the nursery.

At dinner I decided to ask them about the children's sermon, "What did they talk about?"

the white door with the white heart

so happy

There's a discussion going on in the back of my car about bad dreams.  Anya is describing her dream, which involved a big white door with a white heart on it that breaks into people's homes and steals all their stuff.  "It's got lots of patterns on it," she tells me.
"Can you draw it for me?" I ask.
"Yes.  It's a beautiful door, but it's very mean."
"Yeah, I'd like to be on the look out for it, so would love to have your drawing."
Lily speaks up then about her own bad dream involving a little dog, a beach and a crab.

hazards of not being able to see the future

another cairn

There this something inside me lately that I cannot figure out, a deeply agitated restlessness, as though I am waiting for something. I feel this undercurrent of a change in my life and since I cannot define it, I let it bloom into a thousand possibilities, some of them beautiful and magical, but mostly frightening and painful. Somehow, the unknown has turned into the big-bad-ugly and I cannot see the boldly-beautiful-urgency that it simply could be outlining. Correction: I can see it, but I somehow keep choosing to believe in the worst. And if we are our own manifestations of our futures, then how can I keep feeding the fear that the worst is yet to come? And how, when your life is so very beautiful already, can you not assume that big-change equals bad-change? It would seem like greed to expect beauty when you are already surrounded by so much of it.