tHe haPPy grOUch

tHe haPPy grOUch

Friday, July 8, 2011

Friday, July 8, 2011

Good morning, Wrong Side of the Bed, how very nice to see you again.

Almost three weeks since I’ve written, I’m getting better. Pretty soon I’ll be back to blogging every day, I’m sure.
Especially since classes are out for the summer. And I’ll be home all the time, and the kids, and Troy, and dogs, and cats will all be here, screaming for my attention to this or that, and I’ll be huddled up here in my room, my cave, the “Crista only zone”…

After nearly two years, this morning I dreamt of Craig. And when I woke, I was crying. I haven’t cried over him in, well, a year and a half. Brain, shame on you. And here I thought my brain and I were done being age old enemies. Apparently not.

My grades came back for the summer semester. I received an A in both classes (Interpersonal Communications, and College Writing). The English grade wasn’t surprising to me. Interpersonal Communications, though? How ironic. What probably saved me was my flair for writing entertaining material. Ok, so maybe once or twice I wrote something of depth and substance. But  if I did, I wouldn’t tell anyone, because I don’t like to communicate. J
Which also makes this blog ironic. Completely.

First week of summer vacation down, and I’m bored with lying by the pool in the sun every day. Can you imagine.
I wake up at 6am every morning. Maybe I’ll paint my cupboards. I should get back on the elliptical (I’ve gained fourteen pounds since this time last year). Perhaps I should take up knitting. I’ve read three books. And thanks to my new Keurig, I’ve drank gallons and gallons of coffee.

Have I failed to mention that we got a new puppy? I think so…
We got an Olde English Bulldogge (and yes, that’s how it’s spelled). We had her shipped in from a breeder in Minnesota. She’s a doll. A pain in the ass, as puppies always are, but a doll nonetheless. The plan is, once she’s old enough, she’ll be my highway back into breeding. We’ll see. She LOVES her big brothers. It took a while for their noses to come back from being out of joint, but they love her. Well, Hercules loves her. Anselmo tolerates her.




The other day on facebook, I stated that I needed a hobby. My mom’s comment- “I thought dogs were your hobby”? My Aunt Carrie’s comment- “Target shooting! Hahahahaha!”
Seriously though, how is it possible to be bored when there are so many tasks to be completed? I need to clean the garage, get all the yardsale stuff out and set up. That may not sound daunting, but have you seen the size of my garage? And there’s always a long list of household chores to attend to. There’s always something to do here. I always have something to do. I shouldn’t be bored.

And then I entertain the idea that it might not be boredom. That it might be, more appropriately, disenchantment. But how could it be? I have a great life. Wonderful kids, great man, nice house, no job (in lieu of pursuing my education), good health… Funny, as I type this, I realize that many of those things, as rewarding and fulfilling as they are, are also the major stressors in my life…

I love my children. They are truly the only thing in this world I can actually tolerate.
My fiancé is of course, fantastic. Kind and generous. And his daughter is a sweetheart, as far as kids go. But I am learning (again) that I don’t live well with others.
Owning this house is a dream realized. But home ownership is also a burden. I’ve upheld it alone before, by the skin of my teeth. Working 60 hours a week, missing basketball games, no social life…. If ever put in that position again, I don’t know what I’d do. It would be a behemoth of a weight on my shoulders. Sometimes I just want to sell it. Be rid of the beast.
Going to school (for what I actually want) is something I’ve desired for a very long time. But since I don’t contribute much financially, I’ve lost my feeling of empowerment.

Well, at least I have my health.