Saturday, 1:34pm, all wee ones are playing outside in the snow.
I'm nursing a Barcadi Diet (more Barcardi, than Diet) and I’ve decided that you, my bloggy friends, missed me.
The words are always in my head, but I guess, you may rarely see them because I think I might be okay. And not need this right now, but I do. I am not the artist that has to create like a fat baby has to fart. I am the artist that is doing something else with her life. I am the artist of three little girls and one little boy. I am dreaming and sculpting every day IN MY HEAD.
Then I get wasted and pass out instead of writing about it.
But I'm happy. And I'm more comfortable with myself than ever. One day I'll be so comfortable that I won't need to justify a cocktail.
Sometimes, I abhor you for being alive to read this.
However, mostly, I hate myself for being alive to write it.
And then? I'm okay.
My anger and guilt is fleeting.
Someone told me about an NPR show featuring a scientist that was positive that their were infinite alternate universes. Hmmmm… I thought. What is this alternate universe like? Does it include us second guessing ourselves and making the wrong decision? Or the right decision? Did we save the lost soul? Or lost the baby? Or did we turn left by accident?
I love to imagine these universes where I am slightly different, very different and even the same. Imagining that every person and every thing is living their life over and over.
Little Princess obsesses over her clothes. Barely five years old and she can ONLY wear what SHE chooses. This usually includes:
1. lots of pink,
2. glittery sneakers, and
3. the biggest diva attitude any 31 pound, tiny, five year old has EVER possessed.
Some of the alternating pieces may vary, but I assure you that none of them A) match and/or B) fit properly for the season.
In an alternate universe, my under-garments are comfortable. I do not piss away years of my life picking them from my arse crack, pulling them down or up, or frowning at their appearance through my pants. There is an alternate universe, somewhere, where I don't even think about panties.
AND where my children nap for three hours…
Where I have another Barcardi Diet and take a nap.
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