This weekend was supposed to be epic. I was supposed to go and get tattooed at Arrows and Honor by Alana “Lawless” Lawton and generally have a blast. Instead I was at home for most of the time, I did leave long enough to buy a vacuum. How very non rock star of me right? I really miss excitement in my life. I have none; excitement that is. I go to work at an office which is populated mostly by frumpy old women, then I go home to my dogs (both of whom are rock stars in their own right) and chill with my old man. He’s more of a wild child then I am. At least he goes and drinks with his buddies. I wish I could cut loose every so often, kick life in the nuts, spit in fates face, give god a black eye ya know- be a bit of a hell raiser. I think it’d be good for my soul. I’m stuck in such a rut. I have no real outlet. I should be writing and painting more, but lately I just can’t seem to find the energy or the motivation. I finished Prozac circles a while ago and I haven’t gotten it framed to hang up. Fred- the mutant Jackalope I made still has broken antlers- I’m in the process of cleaning out my studio out and that’s really important to get my creative juices flowing. I simply can’t work in a rat hole; and that’s what I’ve let my studio become. I know I sound like I’m whining, and maybe I am. I have a roof over my head and people who love me. The rest is gravy right? Getting out of debt isn’t really conducive to living the high life either. I fucking hate debt. The bitches at citi cards can eat shit. (side note: it’s not their fault I racked up debt- It’s all mine, sometimes it just feels better to rage at them instead of myself) I think I’ll start jogging with Ty every day. It will help me lose weight and it’s free which will make my old man unbelievably happy. I want to travel and see the world. With my 30th birthday coming up I just don’t feel like I’ve done enough or seen enough. I’m just a greedy little rock star wannabe that can’t get enough. Ok. I’m done now. End note: the soundtrack to my life- The Rolling Stones.
I found out the other day that one of my favorite artists Frank Frazetta passed away this past May. When I was in the third or fourth grade my friends father brought us both down to Pennsylvania to Frazetta’s own museum. It was one of my happiest childhood memories. We hung out with Mrs. Ellenore Frazetta the late artists wife and one of their daughters- I believe her name was Holly. Mrs. Frazetta was a warm and beautiful woman who wouldn’t let us leave without prints of our favorite pieces. I chose the silver warrior and the sea witch. I loved everything about the trip. The long van ride, the endless staring at all of the amazing works of fantasy art, even the large chow chow running around; the entire experience is a bright shining lustrous moment punctuating a rather bleak and difficult period in my young life. Those of you who are not acquainted with Mr. Frazetta’s work; I urge you, familiarize yourself. His paintings are magical, they’ll transport you to mystical settings in far off worlds. Experiencing the gallery and the amazing art with M* was by far the best part of the trip. He was even more into Frazetta paintings then I was having been the one to introduce me to the fantasy artists great work. It is so amazing to me that this wonderful and talented man will live on through his work.
I really feel like I’m in a huge slump. I usually get this way when I start to get really fed up with my job. I’m totally fed up with my professional situation right now. I feel one day slipping into another and another and … you get the idea. I find myself craving excitement. While I’m paying off my debt, excitement is not something I’m finding very easily now-a-days. I work a very boring job. I’ve changed departments within the company I work for and even that didn’t help. I totally feel the pressure of being an adult. I can’t quit my job and pursue being an interior decorator, or a tattoo parlor manager because I have a mortgage. I need to pay bills, most importantly I need to pay off my debt. I envy people who have a dream job. Getting up every day and going to a job you love must be an amazing feeling. I’m sure those people have drama in their lives just like the rest of us, but I’d sacrifice a lot to wake up in the morning feeling excited about the day; about what prospects are on the horizon. Instead I just feel the gloom and doom of another day at the office. I drag myself to my feet and trudge to the bathroom to brush the film off my teeth and convince myself that having a hang nail is not a valid reason for calling in sick. It doesn’t help that I don’t really get along with the women I work with. They are old, smelly and they gossip like bitchy school girls. I don’t have anything against old people. God willing I’ll be old someday, it’s just that I figured working with so many post-menopausal women would alleviatethe hormonal mood swings and gnarly behavior that come with working in an office full of women. This is NOT the case. They are a pack of vicious hyenas- tearing at the soft underbelly of my emotions with their snide remarks and well aimed side eyes. Moving on to the smell… oh my lord the smell. I’m a sucker for personal hygiene. I shower twice a day, everyday,the right way- with Irish Spring… this way I smell like a champion. It boggles the mind that a woman willing to pay to have her hair done every week will skip several days of showers. This is not OK. Spraying on some rose scented perfume to try and mask the oder does not help. It only succeeds in making you smell like a lump of dog shadoobie rotting in a flower garden. I wish I could leave a bar of soap and a stick of deodorant anonymously for these bitches, maybe then they’d get the idea. The gossiping is really the worst part of my job. I know that it happens everywhere and in most offices, that really doesn’tmake me feel any better about the situation. Anyone who reads this blog knows that I hated high school, the gossiping was the worst part. I try my best to abstain from the gossiping, I do give in from time to time but mostly outside of work and to individuals that aren’t associated with my office. I’d rather not even know the personal business of my co-workers. On second thought I’d rather not know my co-workers at all. I do have to admit that not everyone in the office or in the building is a total washed-up douche-bag. There is one woman in the office that is consistently nice to me, and a doctor that works in the corridor down the hall from me that always smiles at me and takes me to lunch from time to time. I am so thankful for these individuals, they keep me sane. I know that tons of people go through the same thing that I do every single day. Just like me they get up again and again like a punch drunk boxer, tired and beat down, but refusing to give up.
So anyone and everyone who reads this blog (hello to all three of you!) can tell that I love my puppies. I feel very passionately about rescue animals and my two angles are just about the greatest things in my life. I’ve been asked recently if having two dogs is everything I though it would be, and in short… YES! It’s better in a lot of ways. I couldn’t imagine my life without my little guys. I was having a shit day yesterday and the minute I walked in the door Harley and Ty were there to great me with kisses and warm, soft belly’s to rub. (ok, ok… they had to make pee too) but mostly they were happy I was home to play and cuddle. They never judge or mock me. They only want to give love and make sure that Mick and I are happy, such loyalty and devotion is rare. What do they ask for in return for this unconditional love? A kind word, a pat on the head and a cup of kibble. Not a bad exchange rate! The vet bills are astronomical, but we want the best care for our pampered pooches- so that means $. I know that having dogs isn’t for everyone. The picking up of poo, vomit and other messes, the attention and dedication they sometimes require, and the patience is not something that everyone can, or even wants to give. But for those of us willing and able…man.. it’s the greatest!!!! To wake up from a nap with a wet doggy nose in my face and big brown eyes begging me to please throw the manky old sock … please… just one toss.. ok maybe two.. ohhhh.. just throw the sock already… BEST. FEELING. EVER.
Like most Americans (not that it’s a good excuse) I’m in debt. Thanks to my husband who is quite possibly the world’s cheapest man I’m not up to my eyeballs- maybe just my neck. Debt is bad people, very, very bad. I have come to the conclusion after many years of living with debt, that it sucks and I want out. I’m ending my long term relationship with my credit card, student loans and any other unsecured debts that I have. I have laid out the plans and have been putting in the grunt work to change 2 major things about my life that I don’t like right now, my lack of $ and my excess weight (mostly in the form of fat). I don’t make New Year’s resolutions because that’s kind of dumb. No one ever sticks to that shit and I am committed to change. Since the debt is mine and mine alone I don’t expect my husband to help me pay it off. He went to college too and has since paid off his loans. I can do the same. Besides he already works two jobs to take care of me the two dogs and our house. Putting extra stress on him is not in my plan. I live way to close to a beautiful mall and right smack between two even more gorgeous Targets. Very dangerous to the saving impaired- like me. I spoil my dogs and myself rotten and the time for major sacrifice has come. Harley now gets store brand cottage cheese with his kibble, and Ty will have to be happy chewing up my old manky socks for a while. I wash my face with $2.99 Baisis soap and moisturize with Target brand crème. I even use Irish spring (ok ok ok… I really don’t mind using Irish spring body wash… it smells wicked good and there’s a shamrock on the bottle…. that’s right, a SHAMROCK ON THE BOTTLE MO’ FO’S!!!!!!!) Oh it’s going to hurt, no doubt. Every indulgence must be cut out and eliminated like that spot on my neck that I thought was a melanoma but turned out to be a giant cyst. The next beauty products that I’ll need are shampoo and conditioner. I use bumble & bumble products almost religiously. I will now be buying four dollar brand X hair products from bed, bath and beyond. I have enough clothes to last me for quite some time, so I’m good there. I realize that I have a family and so I won’t be able to totally eliminate all expenses. But I want to do everything in my power to curb the spending and become more financially responsible. On that note: Below is a picture of the $225 Hunter Boa rain boots that I will not be getting. If any of you kind readers feel the need to buy me extravagant and ridiculous gifts, these bad boys would be a good place to start.
I have made the decision to make this blog a bit more personal. When I was sixteen I was diagnosed and began treatment for depression. Although I assume and believe I was depressed long before diagnosis, my symptoms and the crazy growing inside me, manifested themselves right around adolescence. I was never one to mope and cry. My chemical imbalance took the form of anger. Pure unadulterated anger. Since I was a girl (still am last time I checked) I didn’t get into fights and break things all that often. I was verbally nasty. I said things to hurt my mother (sorry Mum) and brothers- often times intentionally. I’m sure I said things that hurt my Dad too but I never did that on purpose.. I guess that’s part of being a total daddy’s girl. I know now that I did and said these things because I was angry at myself, not my family, but at the time I’m sure that was of little comfort to them. The crazy runs deep in my family. I won’t get into specific details because I’m not sure how much info my family would be comfortable with me sharing about them. I will say that I don’t need a scientific journal to tell me that depression can be hereditary. I hated middle school. I hated high school a little less. I was miserable. I was picked on for every possible reason – I have red hair, I had dandruff, pimples, I am short, weird… you name it, I was teased about it or bullied over it. I had salt and flower dumped on me, although to this day I’m not sure why, or what point that was supposed to make. Every day I went to school from the 4th to the 12th grade was an uphill battle, in the rain, with a nine iron. I never stood up to the assholes who bothered me. I never told on them or reported any of it. I should have. Maybe that would have helped. Instead I took all that hate and animosity and internalized it. Then I took my anger home and unleashed it on my unsuspecting family. Epic suck. For them and for me. How stupid was I? The only purpose this behavior served was to make my home life as stressful and upsetting as my life at school. I don’t believe that internalizing my anger and being verbally abusive to my family was a totally conscious decision. I was very young when the feelings of total desperation and overwhelming anxiety started. I’m not sure I had the capacity to deal with my very intense feelings in a more adult manner. (Please note: this is NOT an excuse, just a stab in the dark at explaining my behavior) So…. After a particularly knarly break up with the boy I dated in high school, I decided (along with my parents) that we’d all had enough and that my crazy had grown to such a size that it required medication. Off I went to my pediatrician, where I was given a high dose of Paxil. Now I’m not sure if it was the drugs, or the move to Boston, but my life got much better, very, very quickly. I was happy and social and making friends for the first time in my life. I felt really good. Too good. I soon had to leave college and return home to connecti-shit due to an overabundance of socialization, which led to bad grades. In a some-what related story that I will tell another time, my move home was needed and resulted in me eventually meeting my husband and best friend, so very awesome and totally worth it. After a few months of being back in my home state the doctors decided it would be a good idea to take me off the Paxil. I was ok for a while as I prepared for my return to my beloved Boston. I was even ok while I was living in Boston. My life was great at this point while I was un-medicated. But only for a short while. Once I got settled in our new house my crazy started to rear its ugly head again. I’m actually quite proud to say that I took a very proactive approach towards my depression this time around. With my husband’s and family’s support I returned to a doctor’s office and was given a script for Prozac. Now is where I take a minute and profess my absolute love of Prozac. Prozac keeps me stable. Instead of having a problem and immediately going to that dark place where the world stops turning, and the death of our universe it imminent, I can see clearly that there is a positive way to resolve the problem and move forward. I was less frustrated the second time around. I have an amazing husband, a nice little house, I’ve carved out a little comfy niche for myself. Life is pretty damn perfect sans my chemical imbalance. I will admit that I don’t even consider going off my meds. No way, no how, not ever. My marriage and the connections I have with my family and friends are just too important and precious to me. I don’t want to jeopardize any of the goodness that is my life right now. I do feel badly about the way I treated my family and my ex high school boyfriend. Sorry guys, I brought the crazy every day and I have no idea how hard that could have been for you. I’m in no way perfect now, I’m a work in progress. And since there is no way to photograph depression, here is a photo of my foot.
A few weekends ago Mick and I took a trip up to Boston (yea!!!) to see U2 and to get some yummy pizza. Needless to say we had a blast. The concert was good (not great) and the drive up was so much fun. We dropped the furry kids off at their grandparents and shipped up to Boston. Mick and I don’t get a lot of time alone… just the two of us… without friends… without dogs.. or family around us. Not that we’re upset by this. Quite the contrary. We love big group outings and our dogs are our life. But it was fun to have a romantic little get-away just the two of us. The stage for the show was ah-maze-zing!!!! The sound quality was so bad that we couldn’t hear Bono but the beer was flowing and there was a mini Micky D’s right in Gillette Stadium so I was a happy little bug. The next day we went to the basketball hall of fame in Springfield and had killer ravioli at Pazzo’s. Such a wicked weekend. I loved to see all the Celtic memorabilia at the hall of fame and Mick and I shot some hoops. We returned to some very happy puppies who had missed us lots.
I decided to wait a little over a week before writing this post. I wanted to see how the new addition to our little family would fit in before I wrote some long winded entry that may have turned out to be soooo wrong. As anyone who follows me on Twitter knows- Mick and I recently added to our pack. Tiberius James Letendre (or Ty for short) was adopted by us on 9/5/09 from the SPCA of CT. He is a Chihuahua mix, just like his older brother. We love him very much and he has proven to be a great addition to our little family. He is spunky and lovable and full of puppy energy. He’s roughly 15 weeks old and starting to loose his baby teeth. Mick and I had been talking about getting another dog for some time (read: I was begging him for a puppy for over a year and he finally gave in). We went to the SPCA in Monroe thinking that we would be bringing home a small female Shelite mix. When we got to the shelter we found that the posting on petfinder.com was filled with a few mistakes, including the fact that “she” was actually a “he”. Did we let that stop us? Oh no! We saw Ty sitting all calm in a pen full of puppies clamoring for our attention. We promptly said “We’ll take that one” and scooped Ty up and proceeded to introduce him to Harley. The intro went well so we completed the paperwork, paid the adoption fee and shuttled Ty off to start his new life as a pampered pooch. I did hours, days, weeks, months of research before getting another dog. I called my vet, emailed experts, asked questions of people who had multi dog households. I read everything I could get my hands on that could give me any possible insight into adding another dog to the mix. Harley has accepted Ty as part of the pack, begrudgingly, unhappily at times, but acceptance has come and continues to progress at a slow rate. After a little more then a week I’m happy to say that life with two dogs is better then I could have ever imagined. I have to be blunt though… It didn’t start out that way. Through no fault of the dogs there was a total and complete breakdown in our usually happy household. I was upstairs with Harley having some cuddle time while Ty and Mick were out in the yard chasing tennis balls when Harley looked over at me and said “Why did you bring home another dog? Don’t you love me anymore? Aren’t I good enough?” (he totally said that, I could read it in his eyes) and then … OH. MY. GOD. THE. TEARS. (mine not Harleys’) I love my chihuahua baby. Harley is my heart and I strive to ensure that he is stress free and happy. I had some real fears about what the addition of Ty would mean for Harley and how it would effect our relationship. I got over myself quickly and after a few stern but kind words of wisdom from my amazing hubs I realized things would be good.. better then good. They’d be great. And you know what? As usual Mick was totally right. I want to be very clear about one thing. My love for Ty never wavered. I loved him the second I laid eyes on him and I love him right now. I was just worried that Harley would be upset or somehow displaced by us bringing Ty home. All the emotional and logistical planing I did helped very little to prepare me for the guilt I experienced. Ty and Mick have bonded so strongly that I have to ask for time alone with the new puppy, because if Mick and I are both with Ty, Ty will always go to Mick. I’m not at all bothered by this. Their relationship has also had the default effect of bringing me and Harley closer then we’ve ever been. So Harley’s gotten more treats and love and cuddles then he got before Ty arrived. We are all still adjusting to our new situation but I’m happy to say that everyone is doing great. Life with 2 dogs…. pretty sweet.
I have BRIGHT red hair and very pale skin. Traditional makeup looks don’t always pan out for me. Heavy eyeshadow and over tweezed brows are big no-nos for me. I have thin sparse brows so I don’t over pluck and I always use a gel to set them in place. (I don’t like those brow fillers, whenever I use one I look like I’m channelling Groucho Marx) I do have very full pouty lips. I’m not bragging.. but a girls got to know where here good and bad features lie in order to play up the good and play down the bad. So every day I try to accentuate my pretty lips and my red hair. I have absolutely fallen in love with lipstick queen products. Poppy king is an absolute inspiration and the high quality and ease of use in regards to her products is in my opinion unmatched. I love the sinner shades and even her gloss. On days where I wake up with enough energy (read: RARE) I will do the opaque lips and use the liner and the whole bit. On days when I’m feeling lazy (read: EVERYDAY) I tend to go with a light gloss and an invisible liner to hold everything in place. It took me a long time to feel comfortable in my skin. I was an extremely awkward teenager, with acne and low self esteem. During the eighties and early nineties when neon makeup and dark black eyeliner was in that’s what I wanted to wear. With my pale, spoty complexion and refusal to wear any blush the look was so bad on me it was laughable. I view makeup as an extension of your clothing/fashion sense. I tend to dress and accessorize very simply. I’m a total jeans and tee-shirt gal. It makes sense to me that my makeup should reflect that. The vintage opaque played-up lips and simple face and eye makeup has become my go-to look. I now pretty much ignore makeup trends and tips, prefearing to set my own standard and roll with what works best for me. Please note Poppy King and Lipstick Queen did not ask me to write this and I’m not getting any free products from them for doing so- although that would be super sweet.
So after discussing our tropical trip Mick has convinced me to go to Boston instead. How does he do that? Not only did I give up my Atlantis trip, I did so WILLINGLY! He flashes those beautiful baby blue eyes and I just turn to mush. It’s totally my fault. Not only is Mick super sexy, he’s smart, and that makes him even more sexy. I have so much respect for him and when he makes a valid point it’s hard to disagree. I believe his exact words were, “Wouldn’t you want to spend your special birthday in your most favorite place in the world with me? Wouldn’t that be more special then going some place neither one of us know and may not like?” Although I think there is very little chance of us not enjoying ourselves in the Bahamas he made some very good points about the cost of Boston vs. the cost of Atlantis. Right now in our lives its much easier to pack up the car and head to Beantown then to take a major trip requiring plane tickets and expensive accommodations. Harley can also accompany us to Boston. That’s a huge consideration for me, as I hate to leave him anywhere alone without Mick or me for any long periods of time. Harley is totally my partner in crime, we go together like lamb and tuna fish. I am totally committed to making my puppies life as wonderful as possible.