Little Gene

Now that I've settled down some, I can talk about the concert. I've never seen a band put on a SHOW like KISS. Buckcherry was the opening act, but I only know 2 of their songs. They were good, but there was no doubt that KISS was the main attraction.

KISS played for a good hour, but didn't play a lot of songs I knew. Gene blew fire and spit blood. Paul pranced around the stage and wiggled his ass. They rocked. Then the left the stage. I knew there would be an encore. They came back for the encore and played another full hour. This time, I knew just about every song. Gene was lifted on wires to above the lights. Paul flew across the audience to another stage. There was a confetti explosion during one song. They ended with Detroit Rock City. I don't think I've screamed and danced so much in years.

The crowd. There were so many people dressed like KISS - face paint and all. And there were a lot of toothless freaks that probably spent their last dime on tickets. But everyone was having a good time! But my very favorite person in the crowd was a 5 year old sitting behind us. That's right. 5 years old. He was dressed - wig, make up, costume - like Gene Simmons. He rocked ALL NIGHT LONG! He played air guitar like a pro and he knew all the songs - every time I looked back at him, he was singing along. Here he is, in all his glory - Little Gene:

Girlfriend rules

I honestly thought that I would be writing a blog about how KISS rocked tonight. I've worked my ass off all week trying to get things ready. Making sure the house was ready for the company we would be having before the concert. Making sure I had enough rest because it's only a week after my last treatment and I'm fucking tired. And KISS really did rock. They put on an awesome show. I don't know how old men like that can move the way they do. But they were incredible.

But what I REALLY want to talk about is the unspoken rule that most females know.

A little background. There were 7 of us going. Me, my husband, husband's friend, a male friend of mine and 3 girlfriends. My male friend is T. My first love. The one I'm REALLY not over, even though I say I am. One of my girlfriends is A. Recently divorced. Needed some fun, so I invited her. And KNOWS HOW I FEEL ABOUT T. Thought she would be good with husband's friend.

Boy, was I fucking wrong. By the third song A and T were making out. By the end of the evening...well, right now they are at his hotel and I'm writing this.

So, here is the unspoken rule - I shall speak it: Don't fuck your friend's ex because even if they say they are over him, they probably aren't.

One day I'll write about how it isn't fair to my husband that I'm having these feelings. But not tonight. Tonight, I'll just cry myself to sleep and get ready for tomorrow morning when they come back to the house for breakfast.

Facebook

Let me just state this up front: I love Facebook. It has put me in touch with people I didn't think I would ever see again. One person in particular that has made these last few months so much easier.

But.

People have forgotten how many 'friends' they have that are really no more than aquaintences. People tell things on their 'status' that shock me. True story. Last week one person announced that "Today I must go to my son's parole officer and list the violations he has committed this month. It may cost him 10 years. Its very upseting to know whats ahead for him but after repeated attempts to help him our hands are tied."

Why would you announce that?

I say all that, then I think about what I do on the blog. Is it really any different? Do I feel differently about the blog because it's somewhat anonymous? I talk about my husband, my son. But how much of a chance is there that someone who reads my blog will run into them and KNOW that is who I was talking about? For the person on Facebook, she still lives in the town she grew up in. It's very likely that she and her son will be seen by people who read that post.

I don't know.

Am I Old?

OK, here's the deal. My whole life I've been very lucky when it comes to my skin. I've used Clinique Dramatically Different Moisturizing Lotion (if you want to piss off the prissy little girls behind the Clinique counter, ask for the yellow lotion - they will correct you every time) and make up since I was 13. I've always had combination skin. Never had to use moisturizer on my body - used hand lotion, maybe some stuff on my arms if I got too much on my hands. Never had problems with breakouts on my face - even though I NEVER took off my make-up. Lucky, I tell you.

But now...the skin on my face is so dry it hurts. My arms and legs are dry. Dry. To the point where I have had to completely re-do my products. I am now using Cetaphil soap and lotion. And when I say lotion - I mean cream. It's the texture of cold cream. My skin is so dry that I can use this cold cream like stuff and within 10 minutes my skin feels perfectly normal, maybe even a little dry. I can use it under make-up and not look oily.

But my question is... is this change because I'm getting older? I just turned 40. Or is it a temporary side-effect of the chemo? I'm hoping for the side-effect angle to I can look forward my skin getting back to normal!

A Challenge

One of the blogs I read daily is The Daddy Files. There is a link in my blog roll. One of his recent posts was on the dark places in the mind. You know, the thoughts you have that you don't want others to know about. I don't write about those places often because things with Evan are going so well lately. He's long reached the age where he is not the cause of my sleep deprivation. He's been an easy child for the most part. That could all change soon since puberty is on the way. But I feel challenged by Daddy Files to tell at least one dark story.

When Evan was born, I was basically a single parent. I know, I was married. At least I had 2 incomes. But I was working full time, doing all the cooking and cleaning, taking care of Evan. I had NO help. Yes, I know. I should have demanded help. First, I don't like to ask for help - makes me feel weak. Second, every time I did I was denied so I gave up. I did have help from my MIL on the weekends, but she worked full time, too. I hated to ask too often. And my mom was gone every weekend. Her parents were sick so she drove 2 hrs every Friday to relieve the sitters, cooked and cleaned all weekend, drove 2 hrs back and worked a full time job.

But my dear husband just couldn't be bothered. Couldn't be bothered during the week - he's an aircraft mechanic. If he doesn't get enough sleep, people could die. I heard that shit so many times. Couldn't be bothered on the weekends because he needed to relax. Everywhere I went, Evan went with me. I never had a second to myself.

Then I had my moment. The night that made it clear to me that I was all Evan had. And he was all I had. I had had a bad day at work. I was tired. I didn't feel good physically. Of course, Mike went to bed and I was left to deal with getting Evan in bed. He was about 3 months old. I put him down and he slept for about 30 minutes. Then the crying started. Then I really started feeling sick. And he wouldn't stop crying. Then my back started hurting. And he wouldn't stop crying. And then I started throwing up. And he wouldn't stop crying. So at 3AM I asked for help. Begged. The help I got? He held Evan for about 5 minutes while I was throwing up and then handed him back to me. He had to get some sleep. By this time I knew what was wrong with me - a kidney stone. And he wouldn't stop crying. At that moment, I held my precious baby in my arms and shook. I shook so hard, that later I was worried if I had 'shaken' him. Then I started wondering what kind of mom I was going to be if I couldn't hold it together just because I was sick. And do I really WANT to be a mom? And what kind of mom wonders if she WANTS to be a mom? That opened up a nice little self-pity spiral that I rode for a few hours. But by dawn I realized that I could handle this gig. I had to. Because I was all Evan had. And he was all I had.

Over the years, it has gotten better. For the most part, he has been an easy child. Not always, but for the most part. And Mike now actually participates when I remind him that he needs to. After all, Evan is a lot of fun now that he doesn't cry at night or need a diaper change.

The return of Miss Know It All

When I first started this blogging thing I used the name Miss Know It All. It came from Glamour Girl. Every time she came across something odd, she would tell Mickey she was going to call me because I would know what to do. Usually it had to do with household stuff - laundry, etc. Micky started calling me Miss Know It All. He probably thought it would offend me...little did he know... Anyway, this weekend I came across a situation that I didn't know how to handle. Navy Blue Crayon in the laundry. Whole load washed AND dried. 2 pr jeans, 1 denim skirt, 4 pr khaki shorts, 2 pr denim shorts. RUINED. Every item looked like this:
I cried. I screamed. At Mike and Evan. Evan because he left the crayon in his pocket. Mike because he put everything in the dryer without looking. After I settled down, I called Mom. Her suggestion was WD-40. Um, no. It's a trade-off - crayon or the smell of WD-40. Then I remembered. Mike's aunt used to work in a dry cleaner. I called.

Sure enough, there was a possible solution. Dawn Dishwashing Liquid. I soaked every fiber that had a blue smudge. I used half of a brand new bottle. I let it soak for about 30 minutes then washed in HOT water. It worked. Damn it, it worked. I expected the washer to overflow with suds, but no. Nothing like that happened. The clothes got clean. Lives were spared.

The weekend

This weekend was very relaxing. I had a pretty good bit of energy, so I did some house cleaning that has been ignored. That made me feel a bit better. Then I went to Homestead Hollow. It's a big arts and crafts festival that is held in our little town 3 times a year. I went Saturday with my Mother-in-law and her sister. That was OK, but rambling around with 2 old women isn't always a lot of fun. I like to stroll in an out of almost every booth. Them? Not so much. So Sunday, I took Evan.

You would think a 10 yr old boy wouldn't enjoy that too much...but he and I had the best time. We went early, so we wandered around for a while then went to the food section and got a funnel cake for breakfast. Yeah, I know. But it's no worse than doughnuts. While we were eating, he actually thanked me for taking him. He told me he was glad we were getting to spend some quality time together.
But I have a feeling these sweet times are about to become rare. Puberty is on its way. The signs are all there...I'm just waiting for the explosion. But we will handle this, just like we handle everything else around here - one ticking time bomb at a time. And yes, in the upper right hand corner, those are civil war soldiers @ a camp site.

And now, back to my regularly scheduled bragging:

Evan decided he would play the guitar a little for me. Since it's easier to upload to Youtube than blogger...



It's about a minute long - some Metallica song that I don't know. But I'll take what I can get.

Welcome home

Well, this is it. My new home.

I started blogging a while ago with 2 friends. It was fun, but it came to the point where I needed something for myself. Here, I don't have to worry about what I say and how it will be taken and backlash hitting my friends. I don't have to worry about what other people say and backlash from that hitting me. This is mine, all mine. And if someone is offended, then I will take the heat. Plus I can decorate with Twilight stuff if I want to... But... really, this is a place to tell my stories, share theories and ask questions. A friendly place. A place where I can use my real name.

The name of the blog....well, that just kind of popped in my head. Once I made the decision to find a place of my own I realized I was laughing out loud. Not something I do very often. So it just kind of fit.