Entries from May 2011

thank you

May 31, 2011

i can’t thank you enough for the messages, comments, calls and gifts. losing truman was such a shock.

he went to bed last saturday night with {what we thought} was the health of a pup. he definitely had the demeanor and show of dog with at least 3 or 4 years left. he woke up sunday morning, riddled with cancer, ready to die.

my o.c.d., my need to plan and prepare for everything, has been knocked out of alignment. like a disc that’s been herniated, i crave to put everything back in its perfect, scheduled, peaceful, non-heartbreaking order.

 bitch twitch, who had disappeared, is back with full vengeance. if i knew where and what my chakras were, i’m supposing they’re scattered in different counties, hamlets and cays getting their spring break on on my dollar and peace of mind.

i will emerge from my blue. i always do. usually i just had truman to help me.

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tru blue baby i love…..

May 25, 2011

truman

beloved boy

march 6 2000-may 24 2011

where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night.  i miss you like hell.  ~edna st. vincent millay

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and the sleaze goes on….

May 23, 2011

i’d like to preface this post by saying i truly, sincerely wished friday’s confession would be a purge of my somewhat sooty ways.

a press of the publish button and i had hoped class and sophistication to magically fairy godmother themselves into my manners and circumstance.

i so badly want to be that girl: nary a hiccup in dress nor a stumble in decorum. i want to trombone out beautiful, tasteful soliloquies of peace and love, all the while wearing pretty dresses and sparkly headbands.

well, as an ex of mine used to say to me, with the warmth of  nurse ratched, {typically when my face was streaming with tears},

“it’s good to want things.”

so here goes my sojourn back into smut-ville:

it began with a text. not from me. to me. and to my friend alison*, FROM our mutual friend rachel*.

a photo text actually.

a banana.

with the caption “miss me”? underneath.

ok, we’ve all seen bridemaids by now; the cat is out the bag:

ladies can be just as salty as the gents….

obviously rachel wasn’t asking for banana recipes from dee-jay burnt toast and sergeant take-out 7 days a week.

so we, the wilson phillips of harmonic obscenity, proceeded with our typical “reply all” racy text banter.

i think there was mention of lubricant.

and maybe a graphic reference or two to anatomy.

{my readership is dwindling by the sentence i know}

typical friday banter, mind you alison kept all of this up while volunteering in her youngest’s first grade classroom;

talk about supermom.

thinking the filth-fest  had run its course, all of us returned to our afternoon duties: carpools, work, errands, etc;

when suddenly an unidentified number rings up alison:

a man, fury in his voice, rage in his belly, demanding to know the source of the inappropriate texts to his wife!!!!!

as alison gets lectured on text tact, the same unidentified number pops up on our conversation chain reading:

so nice to see what the wives do during the day.”

in her eager-beaver desire for bawdy banter, rachel had accidentally included her HUSBAND’S!!! number in our girl’s only chat.

obviously mr. rachel wasn’t too keen on midday texts to his wife involving astroglide and i’m pretty sure the word vag {soft g}.

luckily it was all straightened out….and yes!! another lesson learned.

i think.

i hope.

there’s always tuesday.

*names have been changed to protect the not so innocent

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