Moody Meow

But I smell nice. Like lavender….
*queue snooty saleslady with overbearing perfume*
“You know its French lavender. Grown right in…uhm,”
“In france?” I smile..

I purchased it for the wedding. I wear it all the time now. I don’t know if its the reapplied scent or the sensation of exhausted muscles, but I feel at peace right now. I like this feeling.

I had a dream that I bought cigarettes last night and I didn’t tell D. He found them in my pocket. And after the dream, I woke pretty pissy. It lingered into the morning, like the rain that streaked the dirty window in my office. But the sun’s out now. I worked all the grrrr out of my system and I feel better. It could be the lavender….it could.

I realized after reading some of my entries that I tend to babble about the same things: D, our fuzzy kids, my disgust for the ignorant boobs I work with, toys, and my mood swings (which is appropriate considering the site name). I then wander around the web reading blogs from others and wonder if I am just fucking boring or if this is what its supposed to be about. Understand, I know I have it good. I have a rockin’ family who loves me. My huzzie spoils me and lets me try new food out on him with minimal complaint. My children facinate me endlessly and my extended family (despite all their flaws) are usually very caring and loving….so I am grateful. But damn, I wish I could just win the lotto or something to spice this place up!!

My struggle with an adolescent nature compels me to re-examine why I do what I do.
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Do you wonder about midnights defined by smoke machines and strobe lights?
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How does it feel? You are deeply entrenched in your thirties, and I think the future looks fine.
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It’s just a little list of my internal ramblings….or is the my internal organs rumbling?
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My sister’s name is Alexis. She just gave birth to my niece, Miya, a month or so ago. And she wrote this for me. (sorry Lex, I didn’t correct anything - sometimes things are better in their raw form rather than all polished and shiny!)
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She twittered in my ear, but I couldn’t hear her over my own voice.
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Awareness brings me into myself and pops me back out into the real world, which pains me sometimes.
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I’m in shite shape.
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She fell, on the way to the bathroom. The prognosis isn’t terribly sunny. Her hip, broken, she must suffer through surgery tomorrow. There is always the chance that she won’t wake up from the procedure, but she fights so hard every day. I expect that she will make it, and will get better. But after speaking with Mom I realize that she is going to end up in a nursing home. My grandfather and uncle don’t possess the skills necessary for the months of rehabilitaiton and I can’t imagine they are prepared to deal with her bedridden for an extended ammount of time. So, there probably won’t be a Grannie here for the ring ceremony. I am trying to keep my heart from shattering, but its hard. Sometime’s its just very hard.

As Alexis nears her due date, I reflect upon my own experience with the pains of labor.
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I hear these things all the time at work.
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I have gotten angry at the wrong people for the wrong reasons.
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