motheralice

thoughts randlomly dropped


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99 accounts

I have at least eleven thousand accounts online.  It’s absolutely ridiculous.  Every time I turn around someone is telling me I need to create an account with them so I can comment/read/pay/whatever.

I lie one at least ten thousand ninety nine.  Or more.

I just give them the first thing that pops in my head.  My local newspaper, for instance, knows me as Sharon Quid, who lives in Toronto.  Do these people really think everyone is telling the truth?  They can’t possibly.

I’m learning to knit cables.  Which was terrifying initially, because I was sure I’d fuck it up and it’s a piece for a friend.  It’s not too bad.  Have to pay attention though.  And the piece is coming along swimmingly. 

The weather here has been compleatly whacked.  It’s like spring when we should be smothering in snow.  I mean, like, 70ish degree days.  No coat.  No mittens.  Sunglassess.  Margaritas, anyone?

 

 

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Trying to finish a thought::

For the love of all that is good and holy. 

 

My child will not leave me the fuck alone.  Bless him, every time I try to read something, listen to something or write something- even if it’s just a grocery list- he’s immediately in my face because he remembered 16 lego related things he MUST TELL ME IMMEDIATELY.*

 

He can’t tell me when I’m just hanging around the house doing whatever.  Or, like, when I try to initiate conversation.  Nope.  He waits till I’m trying to focus on something else.  The child could be outside and the moment I start to focus on anything requiring my full attention, he’s there. 

 

“By the way, mom, those legos I told you about?  I can help you look for them on ebay if you want.” 

“Hey mom, wouldn’t pizza be nice for dinner?” 

“Mom, I need the computer- are you almost done?”

 

This last is inevitably just after I turn the bastard machine on.  It’s like there’s a sensor in his head that goes off at just the moment I decide I need a bit of time to myself.  I know admitting this makes me a horrible Mom.  Full of terribleness and evil.  But all I really want is to not be interrupted for just a little while.  Say, an hour.  1 Hour.  That shouldn’t be too hard. 

 

There has to be some other area in which my son can put his interruption sensor to work.  Some way he can capitalise on it.  He’s Quite effective.  And I know at some point I’m going to miss that (no, I don’t think so.  Other things about him, but not this particular thing.)  He’s a great kid, I love him dearly.  I just wish he was less consistent with this ‘quirk’. 

 

*{this literally just happened}

 

Anyway. 

Our Thanksgiving was lovely.  We had a few odds and ends over for goose (which came out marvelously), wine, and dessert.  The kids all wore themselves out running about creating mayhem.  Monkey, being the oldest of them was quite patient with them all invading his room and screeching and whatnot.  We got to watch the parade early in the day whilst prepping for company, and Monkey got to see some of the extended family early in the afternoon. 

 

We have a lot to be grateful for.  Bear’s job (even with the massive drawback of being a timesuck- it beats the shit out of nothing), my job (sooo much better than the library), our family (healthy, happy, cared for, loved), our friends (who are really family), and so much more.  It’s tough, sometimes, to remember that things could always be worse.  In a moment of misery, what could possibly be worse- right?  It could.  Be glad for what you have~ even interruptions~ because someone else has less.  In the words of someone great: Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.* 

Cheers!

 

*{so they’re likely carrying weapons}


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Do not engage the crazy people

So, as it turns out, there IS enough crazy in the world to go around.  And here I was worried there wasn’t.*  My friend’s ex is nuts.  And, apparently, a hacker of sorts.  Or an identity thief.   Not quite sure which.  Either way, he’s fucked for the foreseeable future.  I posted a comment on something he said on a social net site and got responses from her under his name. 

 

Uh….

 

First:  yes, I do think she’s a bitch.  Regardless of what she says happened. 

Second:  I don’t care what she wants to send me- winning lotto numbers, naked pics of Sean Connery at his pinnacle, fortune telling secrets of the mystics.  She’s not getting my email address. 

Third:  I’m pissed because I felt like, for my own peice of mind (and safety) I had to unfriendthingy him.

 

This person’s reach has just extended entirely too far.  Bitch.  I get that some people thrive on drama.  I, however, do not and have taken several measures to ensure that I have as little as possible.  Sadly, drama is occasionally unavoidable and (like now) I have to put on my shitkickers and deal with it.  Ok.  Fine.  Whatever.  My friend doesn’t get to move away from the drama, I guess, because he had the misfortune to Love this person enough to marry her.  Even though he has been quite amicable in the divorce, she’s still harassing him.  I’m angry and sad on his behalf and I can’t help him because I’m not rich enough to afford a shark lawyer.  Even if I was, he probably wouldn’t let me help him that way. 

 

*eyes rolling practically out of my head

 


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All that you build will probably fall someday, then you’ll be left with only polaroids*…..

So, Bear went (over the mountain haha) camping this past weekend.  Started out well, and turned into a monkeyfuck at the end.  While the behaviour of Booze is not surprising (but is, assuredly, a continuance of his asshattery), I am sadly shocked by the Remarkably Bad behaviour of the Clown.  Under normal circumstances the Clown is a pretty mellow fellow.  Sure, he may overdo the drink now and again and get a bit weebly- but by the sound of it this was far and away worse.  Even Devilboy was appalled, and he’s a bona-fied, certifi(able) true Punk.  A man who has gone merrily about his hometown causing chaos and havoc when and wherever possible.  The weekend ended with Bear, Boxer, and the others herding Booze down the path while he alternately “had seizures” and cried.  Cried.  Not because he was actually having seizures, but because he just didn’t want to GET OFF HIS ASS.  And also, crying draws a lot of attention.  The Clown, however, woke up (after a night of SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS ALL NIGHT) too late for breakfast, packed his shit up and promptly stomped out of camp.  Which is whatever.  The best part of this whole thing is:  He left altogether.  Now, if this was a place that was right up the road from home (or, like, TOWN) ok.  Fine.  But, it’s not.  It’s, like, 3 HOURS from home.  Town is a bit of a drive as well. 

 

Can you say “Douchecanoe”?

 

Who the fuck goes out to the boonies to camp with friends (ahem ‘friends?’) and then just abandons ship when one of them is having issues (to put it mildly), leaving the others to clean up the mess THAT HE HELPED CAUSE?  Fucking Seriously!?  You’re gonna egg Booze on into getting well past shitfaced, and get equally trashed yourself and then just… leave? 

 

You chickenshit motherfucker.

 

Just to ice that cake:

At the halfway point Bear decided to let the others stop (herding a blubbering whiner who is repeatedly telling you he’s having seizures is Hard Work) and run the rest of the trail to the car.  The idea being that if road to the trail leading to the halfway point was open he could just bring the car to them and save quite a bit of trouble and stress.  So, he heads down the way (not a long trail- think he said it was about a mile and half to the lot at that point) gets to the lot and meets there with Devilboy (who has taken the kayak so that Bear could deal with Booze) who tells him the Clown just walked away and got into his car- at which point Bear sees the Clown heading toward the lot exit, sprints toward him (trying to figure out WTF) shouting, and the Clown just ignores him and leaves.  Based on my (admittedly very limited) knowledge of Bear’s description- the Clown couldn’t have missed him.  Unless he’s blind in one eye.  Um….Seriously????

 

Booze apologised (profusely) for ruining the trip.  He won’t be camping with Bear again, though.  Bear’s over that shit and I told him that if Booze so much as calls the house and I get it he’s in for a world of fire and ire.  I’m done with that fucker.  This is not by a long shot the first time Booze has pulled some shit like this.  I’m over it.  There’s more to this story, but the (slightly) short version is that in addition to all the stress and aggravation, Bear could have gotten physically injured trying to take care of Booze’s sorry ass.  All because he has no self control. 

 

In the end, they all got home ok.  Booze went to hospital to get his ‘seizures’ checked.  Turns out he was having convulsions because he’d mixed various drugs and alcohol with the heart and antipsychotic meds he’s on.  Gee, that’s a shock.  I had no idea he was even supposed to be on anything like that (although it doesn’t come as any great shock). 

 

Bear tried to find out WTF from the Clown and all he said was that he was pissy because he missed breakfast.  No apology for his shitty behaviour.  No comment to the effect of ‘is everyone else ok’.  Zip. 

For the record, this is totally unexpected behaviour from the Clown.  I was blown away.  Bear was too, come to that.  Now we’re both trying to figure out why he acted like that and still hasn’t touched base to say Anything- let alone something to the effect of ‘sorry I was an ass’.  Maybe he’s embarrassed?  He should be.  What if it was a major problem Bear was trying to get his attention for?  Why would you just take off and leave your mates like that unless you knew you’d been a shit and were too embarrassed to face it?

 

I know it’s hard to face some things, but not doing it could really fuck things up.  Sometimes all it takes is an apology to patch things up…

 

Anyway.  I’m glad Bear’s home.  I always miss him terribly when he’s gone.  He’s doing 60 hours a week consistently now, so I miss him terribly anyway- but at least I know he’s nearby.  I told him he should have a do-over Spring camp.  Just take the fellas who can keep it together and to hell with the others.  We’ll see. 

This whole experience has been a big reminder to me.  It’s easy to fuck up, we all do it.  It’s hard to own up to fucking up and apologise for it, but it needs to be done.  If you don’t, those things become big festering sores on the face of friendships leaving your friends to trust you less, respect you less, want to be around you less.  Forgiving fuckups can be equally difficult- especially when the person in question Won’t own up and apologise.  Ooooh.  That’s so much more difficult for me than apologising.  Something for me to work on there. 

 

 

 

*from the song The Coffee Beanery by Casey Dienel