It's kind of fun having a secret blog. Of course if it ever becomes not so secret I will not be happy. Supposed to be anonymous.
What's up with hitting return and it goes up to the top of the page? Just put a new ppc ad on yelp for the main business entry, been getting hits off the other one, doing one free room - maybe that will perk some interested where they actually call me.
I told you about this a year ago, reminded you today. See if you find me.
Tag, you're it.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
I kissed a boy and I liked it. . .
Hmm,
Aren't old people supposed to be over it?
But we can't get together because of the tpo. And I'm not about to drop it because then there would be no reason for you to give us any money . . not that you do.
There's just never a job for you . . . never enough money for me. And no, it's not all about the money.
If I was rich maybe I could just work and let you lay around and look for work. But it's just not the economic times for that.
J and I made up . . . he has been working weird hours at night on mopeds taking drunks home. Thinking about quitting school - I gave him some money for gas. His friends at church took up a collection! Gave him $180 and that made his insurance payment.
But he's 3 car payments behind and needs insurance on it. Hopefully he'll keep getting work and study and I can give him enough to get him through. He feels terrible. I don't know how he keeps going.
Sometimes I don't know how I keep going either. I wake up at about 6 and just pray till 8 when I can't stand the pain anymore and get up and start moving.
Getting old sucks.
But I'd still like to suck face with you.
Can't even tempt you to meet me at the grocery store.
Aren't old people supposed to be over it?
But we can't get together because of the tpo. And I'm not about to drop it because then there would be no reason for you to give us any money . . not that you do.
There's just never a job for you . . . never enough money for me. And no, it's not all about the money.
If I was rich maybe I could just work and let you lay around and look for work. But it's just not the economic times for that.
J and I made up . . . he has been working weird hours at night on mopeds taking drunks home. Thinking about quitting school - I gave him some money for gas. His friends at church took up a collection! Gave him $180 and that made his insurance payment.
But he's 3 car payments behind and needs insurance on it. Hopefully he'll keep getting work and study and I can give him enough to get him through. He feels terrible. I don't know how he keeps going.
Sometimes I don't know how I keep going either. I wake up at about 6 and just pray till 8 when I can't stand the pain anymore and get up and start moving.
Getting old sucks.
But I'd still like to suck face with you.
Can't even tempt you to meet me at the grocery store.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
You sounded happier
I know I'm not supposed to call you but it's like a craving. You're my drug. I just want to talk to you every morning when I wake up and when I go for a walk and when I'm alone and when I'm with a bunch of people, and at night and when I'm at church or CR or anywhere else inbetween.
You sounded happy to talk to me and I was just unable to hardly speak. There is so much I want to say and that I'm writing down because I can't talk to you. Then when you're on the phone, I say nothing. Or I come across angry or unable to say what I feel.
But it was nice to hear you sound happier. Not sure if it's because I called or something else was just going well with your day. I asked you just to get your act together and you said you were.
But you're still not taking care of your responsibilities. I'll have to pay your traffic ticket because my name's on it. I don't think you will. Deadline passed, I sure don't want to go to jail for your ticket. I'm already there in some ways - a prison of regrets and disappointment and loss.
It would be so much clearer if you were dead or we were divorced. This is a better scenario, I know, and I have hope that we can be restored and have way better years ahead -- IF. If you stop using. If you become honest and stop stealing and lying. Ok, I'm going to choose to be a prisoner of hope . . .
You sounded happy to talk to me and I was just unable to hardly speak. There is so much I want to say and that I'm writing down because I can't talk to you. Then when you're on the phone, I say nothing. Or I come across angry or unable to say what I feel.
But it was nice to hear you sound happier. Not sure if it's because I called or something else was just going well with your day. I asked you just to get your act together and you said you were.
But you're still not taking care of your responsibilities. I'll have to pay your traffic ticket because my name's on it. I don't think you will. Deadline passed, I sure don't want to go to jail for your ticket. I'm already there in some ways - a prison of regrets and disappointment and loss.
It would be so much clearer if you were dead or we were divorced. This is a better scenario, I know, and I have hope that we can be restored and have way better years ahead -- IF. If you stop using. If you become honest and stop stealing and lying. Ok, I'm going to choose to be a prisoner of hope . . .
Monday, September 20, 2010
Old love letters
I found some of the letters I wrote to you last year while you were in rehab. Some of them were on target for where I am now. One good thing about writing to you -- even if it's on a blog no one sees -- is that I can see it and if I ever wondered how I was feeling, if I expressed myself clearly to you, whether you got the message -- I can say yes.
I had to stop reading after a while and get to work. This is just so sad.
I had to stop reading after a while and get to work. This is just so sad.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
When I don't miss you
I don't miss you when it's Friday afternoon and you wouldn't be coming home anyway.
When it's Saturday night and you wouldn't be here anyway.
When I do miss you: on holidays, like this past Labor Day at a friend's pool - you would have loved that. When we went tubing with our son, you would have loved racing him down the river. When we walked through the Indian shop, you would have bought him the knife he wanted.
When I go to bed alone, I miss you.
When I wake up alone, I miss you.
When we fight on the phone and you say something nasty like "I'll see you in a year."
In church, when we sit by ourselves, P and I. When we're on a trip and you're not there. When I wish I could call you. When I wish I could see you. When I wake up in the middle of the night.
When I read something I want to share with you. When I'm alone in the doctor's office. When it's time to make biscuits. When we run out of bread. When someone's got to be driven home late. When it's time to clean out the trash. When the lawn gets knee high. When the garden is dying because it wasn't watered enough.
So there are some times I don't miss you. But a lot more when I do. I know, if I would just drop the TPO and let you come home you would be here. In body maybe, like you have been for a few months this year. But I'd rather miss you most of the time than have you here using an drinking and lying and ignoring us and wait until you're clear on why you want to be here. And if you really do want to be with me. All the time.
love,
Me
When it's Saturday night and you wouldn't be here anyway.
When I do miss you: on holidays, like this past Labor Day at a friend's pool - you would have loved that. When we went tubing with our son, you would have loved racing him down the river. When we walked through the Indian shop, you would have bought him the knife he wanted.
When I go to bed alone, I miss you.
When I wake up alone, I miss you.
When we fight on the phone and you say something nasty like "I'll see you in a year."
In church, when we sit by ourselves, P and I. When we're on a trip and you're not there. When I wish I could call you. When I wish I could see you. When I wake up in the middle of the night.
When I read something I want to share with you. When I'm alone in the doctor's office. When it's time to make biscuits. When we run out of bread. When someone's got to be driven home late. When it's time to clean out the trash. When the lawn gets knee high. When the garden is dying because it wasn't watered enough.
So there are some times I don't miss you. But a lot more when I do. I know, if I would just drop the TPO and let you come home you would be here. In body maybe, like you have been for a few months this year. But I'd rather miss you most of the time than have you here using an drinking and lying and ignoring us and wait until you're clear on why you want to be here. And if you really do want to be with me. All the time.
love,
Me
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