I *heart* a jaded cynic

I brilliantly combined Walmart and Valentine's Day this year, kind of like plunging into icy Lake Michigan while simultaneously pulling a band-aid off an oozing, not-yet scabbed knee.

Entire aisles filled with candy, flower arrangements, and men holding giant red balloons filled with heart-covered stuffed animals and other cheap trinkets. Don't forget the brilliant marketing bastards at Hallmark.

I'll be inspecting worksites today, passing out little candy conversation hearts that say "bite me".


Pont Neuf

When darkness comes
And pains is all around,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
- Paul Simon


4 a.d. (after divorce)

How unfair that my ex should look so relaxed, fit, and well-dressed (he wore long, flowered surfing shorts when we first met), more distinguished and handsome.

I, on the other hand, look as if I've been hit by a runaway bus - full of lard. Then dressed in hand-me-downs, dipped in honey and rolled in cat fur.


Apache over Baghdad

Naturally, I was curious when my phone rang this morning and my ex-husband's number appeared. Being tax season, I figured he was calling to share his sob story about having all that income, with nothing to claim, poor baby, and didn't answer. He didn't leave a message, which was perplexing, so I hunkered down and prepared to stand my ground (crying if necessary) when I called back. He told me, instead, that his friend from Ft. Campbell had been one of the pilots shot down and killed in Iraq the other day. His family had stayed here in Alabama, while he finished his final year before retirement.

His wife & I had walked our kids to school together; invited one another to Tupperware parties and giggled over wine at aviation functions. Their daughter has a crush on my son, and they joke over whose car kicks more ass (neither's).

I feel such an overwhelming sense of loss for the family that was just like mine; for the daughters and wife he left behind. It could have been us, and nothing in the war thus far has hit so closely. All the numbers and statistics and finger-pointing because the U.S. didn't offer enough troops for sacrifice...and I still don't understand why. Lousy, shitty war.


Cats behaving badly

I'm contemplating snagging two feral kittens from work and decided I'll need a place to keep them quarantined from the rest of my brood for a while. My spare bedroom, which was used as a gift wrap room, with bows and ribbon separated by color in little plastic containers, was apparently the site for the 2007 cat mardi gras:


Which doctor

I'm still not sure if I had food poisoning, a stomach virus, or cat scratch fever this week, but I was horizontal for thirty straight hours.

I told my son I'd probably be dead before he returned from work, but if I could have one last wish, it would be for a McDonald's strawberry shake. I even told him he could drive my car, take all the money in my purse, and keep the change.

He told me dairy products would make it worse, brought me a glass of water with a straw (when I wouldn't stop whining), and KEPT THE MONEY anyway!