Mother's Day...

Okay, got the Mother's Day prerequisites done. Flowers sent, phone calls made, phone call received (though to be fair I talk to C almost every Sunday so he is really on the hook for more than just a holiday call) and now I can relax for another month before it's my mother's birthday and all of the complications around that date pop up.

The over all arching theme of the day is mothers are funny. Sometimes they even mean to be. Brent's mother thanked us for the flowers we sent, "Denise always finds such unusual arrangements...." we are taking it as a compliment meaning I don't just send the standard bunch of roses, but it's a funny compliment any way you look at it.

My mother talked about how wonderful my brother Mark was. He was such an easy baby, such a good natured child. Really the easiest out of all of us. Which is a lovely way of saying how difficult the rest of us were without actually saying "the rest of you were pains in the ass" so that was amusing.

C got to talk about TV with me. I was very proud that I didn't text him as soon as I watched an episode of a show we both watch because it blew my mind. I mentioned a few times that I almost did and he laughed and said, "You're really proud of yourself for holding back." Well YEAH I am. 

Mothers are funny.

My mother asked what I did for Mother's Day and I told her we went to a soccer match. "Well that doesn't appeal to me at all." Okay, well, we didn't make you go so that's okay. She went to the casino, just so you know what appeals to her.

Brent's mother just got back from a trip to New York City, she spent the first few days there with C and the rest on her own. She has spent the past few days recovering from her trip, doing laundry and getting the cat to forgive her for being gone for a week. So Mother's Day was resting. She also was not impressed with my day at the soccer match.

The Timbers beat Seattle. Winning is good, beating Seattle is best, so I spent the day living out First Lady Melania Trump's dream of Be Best. Like it would be best if you mentioned your wife and the current baby mama in your Mother's Day wishes...just saying.

I hope the mothers out there reading this had a good day doing exactly what you wanted to, even if it was going to a soccer match and that's just not most mother's cup of tea...

I also hope those of you who could were able to talk to your mom today. Even though mothers are funny, for the most part we just want to hear our kids laugh so it's okay if they are laughing at us instead of with us.

Just a few snippets...

Why did I say I thought this was a good idea? I should have made it a blog most days in May.

So it's a sunny Saturday and I am trying to decide what to write about.

The weight hoarder was at the gym this morning. She brings two sets of dumbells and two EZ bars over to her bench and then uses them one at a time. Keeping them for over 40 minutes before touching the last of them. It makes me slightly crazy. The good thing is that I switched which body parts we work on Saturday so I don't need the weights she's hoarded anymore, but it's still such bad gym etiquette. And she's really muscular so she should know better. The only small passive aggressive pleasure I got today is that she needed another set of weights and it happened to be the ones I was using right then so she had to walk down and get the second set to add to her nest. It was small and it was petty but it still made me smile. 

John McCain is being eulogized pre-death. It's probably nice for him. A chance to see what nice things people are saying about him. Except, of course, for the Trumpettes who have decided to carry the draft dodger's banner and support horrible lies about him. Look, it's not a secret that I have not been a McCain fan since he picked Palin and then became a fall in line Republican who still tried to claim the Maverick label. I will admit that part of why he made me so mad is that I really liked him when he ran against Bush the younger. Who, by the way, used horrible dirty tricks and nastiness to beat him. It's always worse when someone you admire disappoints you. And for the most part he became a disappointment to me. A fall in line Republican. Except there were times he didn't. The healthcare bill was a nice no vote that one time. And one of the best things he did was tell the crazy woman that Barack Obama was not born somewhere else and you could disagree with politics without being an asshole (paraphrasing). 

He's one of the last of the old school pols. One of the last to work with the other side. We won't see that again for awhile. I'm hopeful we will eventually see it again, but I just don't know. Because that crazy lady that he corrected is now the majority of his party. That nastiness that he warned against is the driving force of the political system. So yes, I have been incredibly disappointed in him, and I will never get over letting Palin in to the national spotlight, but I also have to say that he deserves the good things being said about him. He gave a lifetime in service to our country and paid a really heavy price for it. He should be treated with that respect. Even if we disagree with his politics. The man is a patriot. 

North Korea. I'm so frustrated with the news coverage of the shutdown of testing sites. They blew up their testing mountain. He's not giving them up. They caved in. The fact that I had to read it on news sites from other countries and it's gotten barely a mention in our coverage is crazy to me. We are sitting back acting like he's doing this as a show of good faith when it's really that he cannot test anymore so he is using it as a way to get something. What the hell? 

But I'm still hopeful. I'm hopeful these talks actually produce something. We've seen this before, North and South came together during Bush's presidency as well and then nothing happened. I hope this time will be different but I'm not holding my breath. But three Americans held captive were released so if nothing else that is a good thing. And for anyone wondering, I don't care if Trump gets a Peace Prize, if there is Peace we all get a prize.

However...

Iran. Why would any country trust our word in deals after Trump stopped complying with the Iran deal. He didn't "pull out" he broke the deal. We had a deal, he stopped complying. Just so you know that makes us the bad faith end of the negotiations. I talked about the deal when it first happened and my thoughts about it. They haven't changed. But now I worry about what it means that we (the USA) cannot be trusted to uphold our end of agreements. This is the second time we've backed out of multi-country negotiated deals in this president's term. The full faith and weight of the United States doesn't count for much right now. It's also a little unsettling that he seems to be destabilizing one area while trying to negotiate stabilization in another. Wouldn't it be great if we had balance on both sides? Maybe that's just me. 

And that about covers the half formed ideas floating around in my head. We are on our way to a friend's patio for a BBQ and bullshitting kind of night. The weather is good, it's Mother's Day weekend so happy day to all you moms, and tomorrow the Timbers play so I will be trying to figure out what to write about when I squeeze in a blog around going to the game. Good luck to us all...

I See You...

She could feel the weight of his stare on her back. She was standing on a step ladder dusting a shelf and she could literally feel him watching her. His eyes tracing the line of her from her shoulder, down the curve of her lower back, resting on her ass as she stretched to reach the corners of the high shelf. Then traveling back up her body landing on the back of her head. She could feel his eyes watching her.

How was that even possible? She pondered this while she kept tidying the shelf. It didn't happen with everyone. She felt like it was completely dependent on who was doing the looking. Some people could stare right at you and never even see you. Like you weren't there at all. Even though you clearly were and they were clearly looking at you. But not seeing you. Not really.

And then there were those that you were aware of every time they looked at you. That feeling on the back of your neck as their eyes grazed just the spot where you liked to be kissed. The ones who when they looked you in the eyes you had to look away because it was too much. Too personal. Too close. Just a look was more intimate than the touch of some.

His gaze had a weight to it. A feeling. A knowing. Like a caress against her skin when he saw her. The first time he had looked at her the hairs on her arms had stood up. Like a lightning charged sky. The first time their eyes met she had been grateful that it was brief. He had been looking over the crowded room, searching for something or someone as he glanced past her. Their eyes meeting in a moment that was so intense it had rocked her back on her heels. The lightning bolt struck.

He wasn't the only one whose gaze she could feel. But she did think there had to be some sort of connection in place. Like she always knew when her mother was watching her. She could feel her when she was practicing the piano, watching from the doorway. She could sense her reading over her shoulder when she was working on her homework. That sort of twitchy feeling. There was a reason most people didn't like to have others read over their shoulders. You could feel it. Skimming your arm, dragging along your neck. Heavy and itchy. Like a weight.

On a crowded bus you couldn't feel everyone looking at you. But sometimes you did feel the weight of a stranger's gaze. And if you turned they would be staring. Heavy. Weighty looks. What was her connection to them? Or was it that they wanted a connection with anyone that their stares always had a weight?

She always wondered about who could feel her own looks. There had been a girl in 7th grade who always seemed to feel her when she stared. She had the darkest, shiniest hair. It was the kind of hair that made everyone envious. And she would toss it over her shoulder and shake her head in a way that made it move like the velvet curtains at the theater. She wanted to touch that curtain of hair. To see if it felt as silky as it looked. Was it smooth like glass? So she would stare. And almost always get caught staring. "Stop it!" she would hiss. "Stop staring at me!"  And she would blush and look down at her desk. Knowing that she would just do it again. She couldn't help it. And the girl would feel the weight of her hungry eyes and turn to catch her. Again.

So she wanted what that girl had. Was that why she could feel the looks? Her mother was her mother, they were tied together forever, was that why her mother's gaze was so weighty? There was the dirty old man on the subway who she felt watching her and when she looked up he smiled and flashed her his penis. He had wanted something from her. So his eyes were heavy as well.

She brought her hand to the back of her head and fluffed her hair. He was still staring at her. She could still feel it. It still made the hair on her arms stand up. It still made the spot on the back of neck where she liked to be kissed tingle. His gaze still held weight. Power. Heaviness.

She backed down the ladder and turned slowly. Looking directly in to his eyes. Yes, he was staring at her. She moved slowly across the room, she could almost trace the line from his eyes to hers. There was a physical thing when he looked at her. His blue eyes locked on hers. That bolt of electricity flowing between them. She reached out and turned the jar around and then went back to her dusting. He could face the wall with the rest of them.

She didn't like to be looked at.

Cop Out...

Okay, I know it's a cop out BUT it's a good cop out.

I wrote today. I really did. A little short story and it's not terrible at all. But I wrote it because I got a notice for a Flash Fiction contest. It's a pay to enter thing, and I really don't like those, but it's a two story entry as well and since I already had one story finished from the last contest I thought I'd see if I had another quick 1000 words or so in me.

So I'm breaking my own no pay to play rules and entering a contest. Which technically the last one I did had a voluntary entry fee so it was a pay to play as well, just asked nicely so I didn't feel ripped off.

But...I'm doing it. Tomorrow. I will submit the other story and the new story and see what happens. And it will count for my second of three submissions so I will suddenly be ahead of schedule! Imagine!

And because I'm writing the cop out blog for you right now I won't have missed my monthly blog a day in May goal and I promise I will come up with some fiction for you tomorrow. I feel something creepy coming around the corner. The things I've been writing for the contests have all been a little sentimental so I'm itching to have something a little less wholesome.

Now, of course, my ornery little muses will probably give me a traditional love story or some shit...

Okay, so I need to finish a few things up around the house that I put on hold once the story washed over me so this is not only a cop out it's a short one.

But it totally counts!

See you tomorrow!

Rambly Even For Me...

I find different things interesting than a lot of people do. I was reminded of this today on my "On This Day" feed on Facebook. Eight years ago I got a notice for a continuing education opportunity. It was going to be held in Seattle and would be a weekend so it would knock out my hours needed, plus it would count as hands on so it would knock out that requirement as well. It was fairly pricey, but it was a great opportunity. I was pretty close to signing on but I knew that I wouldn't be able to get past the smell of the formaldehyde.

Yes, it was working with cadavers. I would have gotten my very own cadaver to work on. Putting the body through movements so I could see the actual muscle movement without that bothersome skin being in the way. It would have been really cool. Except for the smell. And the skin gloves and socks. See, on cadavers used for muscle films and such they keep the skin on the hands and the feet, there are a lot of little bones without a lot of musculature to keep them in place so they keep the skin on those areas. And that squicked me out every single time in class. A fully skinned section of a human body being moved and watching all of the muscles and tendons and ligaments do their thing? Not a problem. Put some skin gloves on the hands and *shudder* nope.

I'm not like everyone else.

Watching interactions online. I have tried and tried and tried to convince myself to stay away from the comments sections on stories, but it fascinates me to watch. It also is interesting to me to see the same characters turn up over and over again. There is a man here locally that comments on every single sports team we have. And it's almost always negative. They have no heart. They don't want to win. They are lazy. Now, his profile picture is of an (at least) 350 pound man wearing a chair as much as sitting in it. And he's talking about how lazy these professional athletes are. He also threatened to sue me once for calling him a miserable grump. Though he's clearly a miserable grump.

There is a woman who comments on the local news station posts. She's a very pro-Trump poster, can turn any post in to a political one. Uses a LOT of exclamation marks and will tag others in to come support her when she posts. I count comments to see how long it takes her to come in with a libtard, cry snowflakes, MAGA!!!!!!!!!!!, post about a lost puppy. She rarely disappoints me.

Now, I can also get incredibly down when I read the public comments because there is a lot more hate than just those two out there. A lot of racism. A lot of sexism. A lot of ignorance. And willful ignorance at that. I went through a stretch where I thought about just posting, "Fuck you" to every post that was ignorant. Just because sometimes people need to be told Fuck You. But it wouldn't really be helpful so Bad Denise lost that argument. But there is still a part of me that imagines a world where the only interaction the willfully ignorant get is told Fuck You.

I'm not like everyone else.

There are a lot of times that Brent and I will hear a news story and I will comment on it and he says, "That was the takeaway for you?" Okay, no I mean I will have gotten what the gist of the news story was supposed to be, but there was a really interesting (to me) nugget in there that needs more information. It's usually the writer part of me. I want the details. I want to know why you did that thing, not just that you did that thing. And a lot of the time that little nugget piece that I want more information about becomes something bigger. It's like an alarm in my head rings and I know that piece is important. But it might not be sensational enough to be getting the coverage it needs.

I used to do forensic accounting. It was the only part of keeping books that I really loved. Looking at spreadsheets and documents and there would be this moment of...hold up, what is this? This doesn't fit here. And then I would spend time digging through back up documents to find what it really was and where it really needed to go. The puzzle needed to fit together. It's all numbers and should be boring but for me that part of the job made all the rest worth it. Reconciling messy books and making them right again. I probably should have finished my degree and worked for a company that only did that sort of work.

Like auditing Trump. How fun would that be? I mean, you'd have to understand international banking, or at least Russian banks, but it would be really interesting to see where all that money Eric said they had went. And where it came from. "We have all the funding we need out of Russia." Why is that ignored by the Trumpettes of the world? I mean sure, MAGA!!!!!!!! but really, shouldn't you wonder about that? So much Trump stuff that needs unpacked and it gets ignored because there is so much Trump stuff that needs unpacked.

I don't really have a good conclusion to this blog. Just a little navel gazing for the morning because I did this silly blog a day challenge so I  needed something for today and I have a short story brewing but I'm not sure if I am going to post it here or use it as a submission so instead you get free flow top of mind run on sentences while my head works on the details of the story in the background type blog of the day blog. 

I'm not like everyone else.

Welp...

So I got the rejection notice from the piece I submitted last month. No contest winning entry for me.

I'm bummed, because of course I am. I'm competitive and when I compete I want to win. And even though I thought the story was a little weak I do actually normally mostly feel I'm a good writer. But I haven't ever been able to break through.

I told Brent I didn't win and his response was "Contests are hard, it's just one winner and a lot of people enter. The odds weren't good." True.

I told Dana and she was really ducking proud of my rejection because it means I submitted something and we both know how ducking hard it is for me to actually get out of my own ducking head and click that submit button. And the goal for this year was three submissions, not to actually win a contest or get something published. So really this was a triumph. She's a good ducking friend even if she is calling me a bitch right now.

So I'm bummed. BUT... I also have a story in my pocket now to use on the blog this month when I hit a day where I don't have anything to write about. AND the first review of the game C has been working on came out today and they really liked it so that made today a good day.

Here is the link so you can read it for yourselves.

I'll probably never play more than a few seconds of this game, too complicated for me at this point, but I am so excited for it to come out. He's been working on it since graduation. It will be his first major game. I still have his mobile game from his senior project on my phone and this will sit on a shelf in the house as well. You never stop being proud of your kids and what they accomplish. It's so exciting to see something that he has worked so hard on come to fruition.

And to be able to talk about it.

For the first stretch he couldn't even tell us what kind of game it was. Or the name. Or the release time frame. We just knew the studio and that there was a paycheck. So each milestone we've been able to share has been exciting.

He's wanted to do this since elementary school and I am amazed that he's followed it through and is doing it. Who picks a career in elementary school? So yeah, I'm extremely proud of him. And I'm super excited about the game coming out. And I'm beyond thrilled that the first game play review is positive.

And all of that adds up to me needing to submit two more pieces this year, getting an actual rejection instead of a radio silence (which is SO much worse), having a piece in reserve to post on a lazy day, having my husband and my friend give me exactly the reactions that I needed, and then all of that fading away as soon as I saw what C had received. All in all not a bad day.

Does it Fit?

There is this outfit that keeps popping up in the White House Black Market ads. It's a cute skirt and short sleeve cardigan type top.  Here, let me get the picture for you...

How cute is that? I keep thinking that outfit with an adorable little kitten heel pump is something that I need.

I don't.

I am not built for that outfit. The collar is too high, I would need it to be a V-neck, and even then it would pull across the buttons and gap. My hips and butt are full enough that a skirt with inverted pleats tends to not keep those lovely flat tucks. And I have a wide toe box so finding a pump with a kitten heel that would fit is pretty close to impossible. But I still see this and think, oh I need that.

Somewhere in the back of my head I hold this physical image of myself that is not who I am. Like I could change myself out for her when I wanted to. Very much like the Good Denise, Bad Denise voices I use for personality traits. This is the image I hold of "what I thought I would grow up to look like Denise" She's much more willowy than I am. She can wear clothes right off the rack. She's got a very preppy style. Now we all know that the "who I grew up to be Denise" is not that person. Willowy is not a word ever used to describe me. I'm full figured, curvy, even lush works. My style is not preppy. It could be best be described as casual. VERY casual. As in fully half of my wardrobe is Disney t-shirts casual.

But there is some part of me that thought this is what I would turn out to be when I grew up. Of course at 3 months away from my 50th birthday I am prepared to say that just growing up is pretty much out of reach as well. There was that stretch in my early 30s where I REALLY made an effort and was super responsible and did the right grown up type of moves, then lost my mind, realized I was miserable, made some questionable choices and settled back in to the not at all a grown up but isn't everyone much happier now me.  Whew...

Still have part of me thinking I could rock a preppy, polished, classical look with a kitten heel though. But at least now I don't buy the outfit and let it hang in my closet knowing that each time I put it on the image that looks back from the mirror is NOT the image in my head. Which is the worst. I had a whole bunch of those types of things through my shopping years. And sometimes it would take a photograph to fully capture the "oh, honey" of it all. Oh my...

Now at almost 50 I'm pretty good about only buying things that I know will work for my body style. And I try to stick with the majority of my purchases being things I will actually wear. (thus the Disney shirt abundance) So even though that outfit speaks to that part of my soul that holds out hope for a body and personality transplant, I won't indulge it. (though, Susan, if you are reading this, I think you would look so good in that outfit!)

For me life is a constant sorting out of things that aren't me. That I might have thought should be me, things that I can see might even be beneficial to be me, but just aren't me. And for the most part I think I've got it. Who I present to the world is really who I am. I am a happy person. I am a content person. I want people to get along. I really want people to be smarter. I want to share knowledge and to encourage people to find the truth. I believe in not being rude, until you earn it. I believe in being kind, until you are an asshole then I believe in making you cry. I get tagged by people in this meme a lot:

And to be honest, it's probably more than a little go fuck yourself depending on the day. But it's pretty accurate. Another one I get that people see and think of me is "Do No Harm, But Take No Shit" I like that as well. What these show me is that I really am presenting who I am to the world. I'm not showing you a woman in a cap sleeved cardigan with a full skirt and kitten heel while my Disney t-shirt wearing true self is hidden away. You get what I am. And I will keep showing you that person. And I will keep reminding myself that it's okay that I didn't grow up to be, well, a grown up.

Oh and just so you know what I did buy, because life isn't all Disney shirts...

The reviews said: "I like it, but it's a little full through the chest." and I said, "Hey! Me too!" And it is, and it's beautiful. And I can't wait for the weather to warm up enough to wear it AND...it has pockets. I also have the perfect pair of shoes to go with it. A flat, round toe, wide shoe, for when I have them on and haven't kicked them off because really, I'd rather be barefoot in the summer.

Be you. Always be the you you really are. Not the you thought you might be. Or the you you think someone else believes you should be. Be you. You are the only you we have so be the youiest you you can be.

Kitten heel optional.