Roll On 2012

I am going to try to do better, LDs. I really will.

Even if it means that I'll have to leave an open postbox at all times so I can write what I'm thinking so that you don't get too bored with me.

Even if it means that you send me ideas via email or facebook or twits, tumbls, or pony express, I'll try to do something every other day.

Even if it means just a hello and howareya.

I'm working on 2012 being The Year of the Comfortable. Meaning in my own home (cleaning out); my own space (the War Room WILL get done this year); my own body.

This may turn part fatshion blog. So if you don't like hearing about clothes or the like, just don't read those posts (I'll try to warn you *grin*).

This may turn part crafty blog. If knitting or pinterest-inspired craftiness doesn't "do" it for you, just ignore those.

But this will still always be a blog where I can hash out ideas about characters and plot lines...which doesn't seem like I've done much there, either.

Sigh.

But I'm going to try.

Have happy and safe New Year celebrations.

Library Update

Wow...it had been a while since I'd updated. I added almost ten new books, and the season's coming that I'm going to sit on my fat ass and curl up and read!

In what season do you find yourself reading more?

Sigh

I know I'm horrible when it comes to blogging. Doing these almost makes it seem like I'm apologising to myself and not to you.


But I do apologise to you - there are some of you who follow via email, and a couple that really look forward to the totally sporadic posts that I do (love you guys!)


So, my goal is to write more, and to comment more on the blogs that I love and read and follow and omg whatevs! Sorry - channelled my inner Valley Girl from Friday night!


Side note: I. Love. Fall!!


And you guys.


And stuffs.


And Pinterest.


And All Hallows'.


And hot cocoa first thing in the morning, liberally laced with strong coffee.


And Camp (yay M/D Weekend in two weeks!).


And... wow.


:)
Steph Dreamer

30 Days of Self-Acceptance: Day...Loads

*** Guy readers: if you're squeamish about bodily functions or periods, you might want to stop reading. Now. ***

Most of these days are things that I do on a daily basis: look a fool, waste time, sweat, make a mistake, ask for help.

But there are some that will take some longer looks.

Like "Share a health struggle." Next week, when I go to the doctors, I'm going to have her set up a thyroid test for me. Watching what I eat isn't helping; neither is consuming practically my weight in water or working out more than I was doing before.

"Spend money on a non-necessity or share a financial struggle." Really? Think that's just about everyone. I spend money frivolously, and we have 3.5 more years to go on our bankruptcy.

"Share details about a bodily function or fluid." Really? I accept the fact that having a more than a cup of coffee or eating anything greasy means that in 20 minutes or so I'll be headed for the bathroom to poo; or I just wish that I could be "old enough" to let them take out my uterus because I don't want kids and my Auntie every month causes me to have to wear both a super tampon and a pad (normally within four hours, when I stand up, I can feel lining shifting and exiting the ol' vag. Sorry, but that's what happens).

"Talk about sex." What the hell do you want to know? I like sex when I can get into it (see previous post about the weight thing), I have a couple of favorite positions, and I am L.O.U.D. when I get into it--hope I haven't offended our superreligious neighbours.

"Set a boundary." Pretty much anything goes. Just ask. :) If I don't feel like answering, I won't.

"Discuss a failure." I fail pretty much every day at random things. I have failed at finishing any of my romance novels that I am writing.

There are a few that I am going to write individual posts about, and these might lose me followers--Express a strong feeling and Air one of your secrets are the two biggies.

So beware. I'm working them out on paper right now.

Steph...Ms Dreamer

Sex Sells

LDs, if you've read here very long, you'll know that I have body issues. I'm 5'4" (marginally taller than a Hobbit--shout to Mrs Gamgee!), and at last doctor's visit (Paxil med check--it's working), I was 246 pounds.


Wait. Back up a minit...


Two hundred and forty-six pounds. I weigh approximately what a baby African Elephant weighs at birth. I'm a fucking baby elephant.


And I know what did it--mostly all the pot I smoked in college, followed by the whole pizza or an entire package of Pizza Rolls (the one that the husband and I now split one for dinner) or a bag of Doritos and a 2-litre of Mountain Dew. Combine that with not exercising like I did when I was in high school (I was a cheerleader, on the track team, and I either worked out or ran almost every day), and I tip the scales pretty heavily nowadays.


It's why I don't feel like the Sexy Time with the husband, even though he can't keep his hands off my "jiggly butt" (you'd have to see Germaine in the early versions of Foamy to understand that one) or my boobs. I can't get over the weight I've gained. 


See, I'm kind of weird (no, really?). I see the size on my clothes, and it doesn't really sink in. I don't see myself as a fat girl. I still see myself at 180 pounds (of course, my head size hasn't changed, so I looked like a Tootsie Pop back then...), and it's almost crushing when I look in the mirror and don't see that same girl; that I see someone who roughly looks like a baby beluga, rolls and all. It's like I have two different personalities. 


There's the lightweight Me: when she dresses in her favorite outfits, other people's tastes be damned, she is confident, powerful. I crush those who would prevent me from doing what I want underfoot.


Then there's the heavyweight Me: after a shower, trying to dry off, that just wants to puke my head off and go down that way. Of course, those of you who know me, know that I'd rather feel bad for three days (food coma or too much alcohol) than puke and feel better in fifteen minutes. So that's out.


See, I tell you all of that to tell you this:


Over the weekend, husband and I went down to the Ville of Edwards and hit up the pet shop for bunny noms, Slackers (looking for some music...no luck), and Boarders (of course, since they're going out of business, everything was at least 60% off!).


And in that lovely little, 2/3rds empty Borders, I found a cute straw purse for $10, a journal I fell in love with for $10...and a book.


Not just any book. It's by Stella Ellis.


And it's called Size Sexy: How to Look Good, Feel Good, and Be Happy--at Any Size. 


Stella is a full-figured model Jean-Paul Gaultier calls his "muse." She's beautiful and sexy. And she's figured it out.


I posted a question the other day on my Facebook: "What do you define as 'sexy'?" I got eight answers. Two were from guys with "typical" guy answers--one commented that it's a "chick in a Kitana CosPlay costume" and the other simply said, "bewbs:)" I'm not going to tell them that they're wrong, because they're not. Bewbs can be sexy. So can a chick in a Kitana CosPlay costume. One guy asked if he could be co-author of this blog. :)


And then I got these answers:


"Sexy is all attitude." ~~Ryan R


"Sexy is all about how you carry yourself. It's about being comfortable and secure with your body, your sexuality, and who you are. A sexy woman does not need to flaunt herself...her sexiness speaks for itself in the way she carries and respects herself." ~~Jordan B


"'Sexiness is all in the eye of the beholder. I think it should be. Absolutely. My sex appeal, whatever it might be, isn't obvious...at least, to me.' ~Sharon Tate" ~~Sarah C


"Self-confidence = sexy." ~~Emily H


"Sexy for me is someone who is comfortable in their own skin and has a good sense of humour." ~~Carla R


"If he doesn't have a butt, he's not good looking" ~~Tabatha H's mum (she's reading over my shoulder).


All of these are what Stella talks about in this book (I've taken to carrying it in my purse, and just looking at the cover sometimes makes me feel better).


If you're uncomfortable in your own skin like I am, try it out. I'm taking bits and pieces every day of her advice.


I'm not a big makeup wearer (since I sweat...loads), I don't wear foundation or powder -- don't need it running in rivulets down my face and onto a shirt or in between Thelma and Louise. However, she did say that simply putting on lipstick can make you feel better about yourself. 


And she's right--yesterday I did (but it almost wasn't worth it -- had a completely horrible day at work), and today I did (got complimented on today's shade...that I've had for 5 years or more. Yeah, I don't wear it much). I wore heeled sandals to work yesterday, and although my feet fucking hurt to high heaven by the time I got home, it did make me feel better. Today, I wore my second favorite pair of jeans (that make my butt look good...and they quit making them in my size!! *angrypanda*) and a favorite black peasant shirt and my new black sandals. I had a pretty good day today -- listened to Disney songs all. day. long. as I worked. Got loads of shit done, too!


Now, to save money to have at least eight hours at a spa, and to find someone to go with me to the Clinique counter (expensive, but I have always loved their makeup--when I wore it) to have my colours done.


Anyway, there is a point to this. I'm beginning to see that what we see in magazines and on the television isn't proportionate to the entire female population.


LDs, I'm determined to make the rest of this year the Year of the Sexy. I've set up a reminder on my iPhone for every day-- "You. Are. Beautiful. Inside and Out." pops up on my phone on my way to work and on the weekends now. Positive Affirmations are the best, aren't they?


Anyone care to join me in the Year of the Sexy?


Steph... Ms Dreamer


* disclaimer--Stella Ellis doesn't know of me or care that I bought her book. I just needed it. I'm not advertising the smoking of the pot nor am I gonna lie about doing it back then, or eating all that junk food (look where it got me). I'm laying it all out there for you. Love yous! *

30 Days of Self-Acceptance: "Day 3"

LDs, I've never been one to follow the crowd, and if I do, I've still got to do something different with it.


Like with this 30-Days of Self-Acceptance. I hate doing things in order.


Yesterday was days 1, 5 & 10; today is day 3.


Day 3 -- Eat. Whatever you feel like eating.

HA! What this lil' ol' meme doesn't realise is that I eat whatever I feel like eating anyway! (that would explain the weight issue...).


Take, for example, right now. I'm having leftover pork fried rice for brunch.


Most of you may say "Eww! That's gross!" but let me tell you something: right now, it's the best thing in the world because it's what I was craving.

Probably going to have Wendy's for lunch. Or TacoSmell. Or Arby's. Or corndogs. Whatever I feel like eating, I'll probably eat.

What's nice is that it's my town's "homecoming" - Old Settlers'. There's going to be more crap than I could ever eat, but right about now, I might try one of everything!!

What are you craving?

Ms D

30 Days of Self Acceptance

I'm talking about accepting yourself for all your faults, idiosyncracies, problems, weirdness, etc.


With the exception of my weight, I do accept myself.
I get told I'm weird - I accept that.
I'm crazy - I accept that as well.
Odd? Yeah, I know.
Loony? Guilty as charged.


So I'm trying this 30-Day Self-Acceptance bit. I'll probably lump some of them together so that I do them all.


Like the movie/TV/music ones.


For today.

1. Declare your love for an uncool television show.
5. Declare your love for an uncool movie.
10. Declare your love for an uncool band.


Let's see...


TV?
Would have to be Due South. Hot hot hot Paul Gross. Deaf white wolf (whom my aunt's dog is named after). Canadian Mountie (how about Canadian mountme...) with the Stetson of Imperviousness. In Chicago. Did I mention that Paul Gross is hot? RCMP tracks father's killers to Chicago. It only aired for four seasons, and no one that I know has heard of it. I really need to get it on Netflix and watch it again. Cause the only thing I remember is the hot Canadian Mountme Mountie.


Movie?
Stardust. Claire Danes. Some cute boy. Robert DeNiro (in a dress, at one point!). Sienna Miller. Michelle Pfieffer. Stars have feelings, did you know that? They learn what love is from us here on earth. Check it out if you want a hokey love story!

Band?
There are a few, actually: O-Zone. Eiffel 65. RuPaul. Chumbawamba. Aqua.

They all have peppy, poppy, fun to dance to songs...even though most of them either make no damn sense, or they're in a different language (and therefore, make no damned sense). I like music with a good beat.


What are your loves that are unpopular? Own them - they are part of you.

Ms Dreamer
Stephanie

I Fail

Not at life.
At blogging.
Like, OBVIOUSLY (thanks, Bex).

Ya know, I think that there are loads of things that I'd like to say, but I'm never sure of myself or how others are going to take what I say. Most of the time, it should be with a grain of salt (and some tequila and some lime, of course).

So I saw on Chibi Jeebs' page that she's doing a 30 Days of Shamelessness.

And since I'm such a follower (just call me a lemming), I feel that I want to do this as well. It most likely won't be 30 days long (because I fail that way), but I could combine days...

Anyway, I'm going to try to do this. I have been carrying around a student planner (Dollar General, $2, lime green) that I'm jotting things down in I need to do. I'll print the list, and decide when I'm doing what. Of course, me being me, I won't do them in any semblance of order.

Something else I've been thinking about: attending a blogging conference next year. I so want to go, just so I can meet some of the people who live in my computer. I really think Kisha should go as well (right, love?). I want to learn new things! I want to meet new people! I want SWAG! (Yeah, I'm a bit greedy as well).

So, how have you been doing lately?

Love you all,
Ms D

Wednesday Recap...since I'm lame.

Hey y'all. How's it going? I didn't get a chance to do Sunday recap here in the tinyhouse. So we'll do it today.

~~Had a mini reunion with four classmates from eighth Friday night (1992). Good GOD we've got some good memories!

~~Had my 15 year high school Saturday eve. Definitely had a much better time this year than at the 10th.

~~Got my dumb ass sunburnt on Sunday...even with SPF 50 and sweating. My chest and upper shoulders are incredibly pink and hurty. If a redhead with freckles and pale skin is a Ginger, and if you're just freckled and pale, you're a Daywalker, what if you're just a redhead? Fuck. That makes me a Daywalker. :)

~~Really missing southern Illinois after being there all weekend. Anyone know how to cure them blues?

~~Nothing much else happened...

How was your week?

Ms D

Sunday Recap

LDs, I'd like to try blogging once a week. I do feel like I'm neglecting you (and myself) by not trying hard enough.

So here are snippets:

~~ Mum's 52nd birthday was today. Oma made dinner and we all had a good time. Happy birthday, Mum!

~~ Oma's dog Biscuit died Friday morning. She misses her something fierce. She was older than 10, but they really don't know because my aunt basically stole her from a home that was neglecting her - middle of winter with no food and water or shelter kind of abuse. That dog was spoiled rotten, and we'll all miss her, but Oma's hurting pretty badly. :( Send her love, if you would. Mr and I bought her a husky figurine, and it made her cry, but it's now on the table next to her spot on the couch.

~~ I'm almost finished with the jewelry for the Mr's sister's wedding at the end of August. However, I do still have to make the flowers, order candles, and make a tutu for the flower girl. Send me some energy, yos!

~~ I'm completely addicted to Pinterest. Facking shit...stupid iPhone app doesn't work all the time. :P

~~ I'm taking the advice of something I read: if you're cleaning out your house, and you need to get rid of something, but you don't want to because of sentimental reasons, take photographs (or pics, whatever you prefer *wink*) and write something about it. Even ten discs of pictures is going to take up WAY less space than the crap itself. I have to take my numbers off my letter jacket from high school, and then that wool coat is going in the yard sale for $10; t-shirts are getting cut up to be used in a light quilt; other stuff's getting sold or donated. My niece had never seen paper dolls, so I gave her the set that I had. How cool of an auntie am I?

~~ The Mr and I want to start a creative business, so if you want to check it out on the Book of Face, it's Two Hearts Creations. I run it, and imma start posting pictures of the stuff I make on it; see if anyone will bite. :)

~~ Had a fab time last week in Texas with one of my besties Lynsey. I love jewelry!

So, how was your week, all?

the Ms D

PS - if you wanna be on the Stalked Minions list, let me know! I'm working on getting my own header and some buttons to follow me on email, twitter, facebook, etc. :)

Death

Hi LDs. How are you on this fine Monday, July 4th - America's Independence Day?

I'm doing well, considering.

See, my mum's husband died last Sunday evening. He'd been in hospital for the last three weeks or so - liver was functioning at 10%, kidneys were shutting down, and he was retaining too many fluids. Alcoholism will do that to a person. They took him off of the ventilator and the sedation Sunday evening, and he was gone within an hour. Hubs and I took a few days bereavement leave and were up there with her, helping her stay busy. There was a family-only viewing Friday evening, and he was being cremated directly afterward so that his sisters could have some of his ashes when they left Saturday. Saturday afternoon/evening, all of his friends got together and had a party in my mum's front yard.

For a bunch of drunks, they kept the yard pretty damn clean - they were actually using the trash and recycling bins! Bill (next door neighbor) smoked up some pork shoulder, Whiskey John made a hella-good potato salad and pasta salad (even gave me the recipe), I supplied the dessert (pudding delight, bitches).

Some of those guys, for all their attitude and anger and loud personalities, actually cried when they saw George's box of ashes. Sobbing old men are the worst. There was more than once that beer tributes were given.

As much as he annoyed my mother and drove her up the wall, he would do anything for anyone. And it breaks my heart to see my mum so lost. I mostly didn't like him - he made an ass out of himself (and in turn, mum) at my wedding reception; he was lazy and didn't work; and he was an alcoholic (which is what ultimately killed him) - however, in some ways, he made my mum happy.

And that's all I really cared about. We're getting her a cremation necklace for her birthday in a few weeks. It's a dragon and really cool. She picked it out, and it suits both her and George well.

I think I'll actually miss you, ya dickhead. Give the Devil some hell for me, will ya?

Be safe out there, LDs.

Ms D

Father's Day 2011

LDs, I'm going to repost something that I did two years ago. Nothing's changed. In fact, I just copied and pasted it.

But it still is true today as it was two years ago.

Happy Father's Day to all you papas out there.

~~

Father's Day

When I got married, my grandfather walked me down the aisle. When I asked him to give me away, he couldn't understand why. He wondered why I didn't ask my mom or either of my uncles. "Because it's important to me that you do it." Later on, my grandmother told me that meant so much to him, that I loved him that much that I asked him to do that honor. My grandpa is the exact opposite of me in that he doesn't like being the center of attention for anything. He had so much trouble at the rehearsal remembering what to say when our preacher asks 'Who gives this woman to this man?' Loud and clear on our wedding day, so that everyone in the chapel heard him, he remembered 'Her family and I do.'

You might ask why my grandfather gave me away instead of my dad. Hmm - when you find him, you can ask him. You see, I was an 'oops.' My mom had just graduated high school and got pregnant with me. When she told the SD (sperm donor) about it, his last words to her were 'It's not mine.' My great-aunt (who helped deliver me) made the comment at the 'family meeting' my mom had called to let everyone know that she thought it best if she just gave the baby up for adoption. 'Over my dead body.' Even before I was born, my grandfather was defending me - my knight in shining armor. I lived with my grandparents until I was three, and because of some circumstances, they were actually trying to adopt me. My uncle was still in high school, so I already had a 'big brother.' I went to live with my mom and her new boyfriend.

When I was four, the boyfriend became her husband, my stepdad, and dad to my sister JR all in the same year. Until I was 12 (when they finally divorced), he was my father. If you grew up in an alcoholic and/or abusive household, I feel your pain. I know - I've been there. Surprisingly enough, I turned out to be a semi-well-adjusted, fully-functioning member of society. We'll leave that story for another time. However, I did not know he was not my dad until the summer I left my mom. That knowledge made me cry - that was good news that he wasn't my father.

When I was 14, my aunt married this really great guy who, in the span of four months got married, moved in with her, and acquired a 'daughter'. See, I went from a straight-A student to a C & D student. Divorce can do that to children. It didn't help that I became mom to JR and didn't have time to study and keep house and dinner and help with her homework. It scared the rest of my family. Grandparents, two uncles and an aunt decided that if they didn't do something, I might not have finished high school (and this all was the final result of one of the bravest things that my friend C ever did...and I will never quit thanking her). I moved in with my aunt and uncle. It was a mahoosive change, going from a household that didn't care what you did, whether or not you failed school, or who you were hanging out with (unless it interferred with her plans) to having a 'mom' and a 'dad' who worried about you, were always questioning about your day and school and boys and friends and sports. I panicked and rebelled. Things smoothed out. My grades skyrocketed (graduated with honors). I got into college. I hit rough patches (who hasn't), but even though I stumbled, I picked myself up and slogged on.

Even though the three men I write this for will most likely never see it, it is written for them. I had a father/daughter dance at my reception, split between those three very special guys.

None of them are my father, but they are all my Dads.

Remember to tell your dad, grandpas, and uncles "Happy Father's Day."

I feel blessed that I have three.

I've been thinking...

LDs, and for some of you who know me personally, that's not always a good thing.

I've been thinking about my persona here. I don't know why I'm "hiding" behind a pseudonym like Ms Dreamer.

So I think I'm going to make some modifications.

There's nothing that I need to hide, really. I don't have children. I've not been in trouble with the law. I don't do drugs (only the good legal ones).

I'll still hide my LDs names with code and first initials, unless they tell me I can call them out. But Mr Realist and I would be out of the closet, per se.

What do you think?

The possibly former Ms D

Boo To Me...

I know. I've been horrid at posting. And I have 21 followers plus countless other readers that I am neglecting!

Shoot me now. I'm going to try this again - documenting shit during the day and then posting at night. Let's see how far I get...

Ms D

A Letter...

Mumsy,

When I was young, I looked up to you for some things; others, I despised you for. You were always there, cheering me on at soccer games and basketball games. You'd help me with projects (remember the papier-mache mask that we made that morning before school, while you were trying to get ready for work?), and you explained that stupid girl thing. I despised you for staying with him so long; for letting him beat the shit out of me; for hearing me but not listening to the words.

As I grew older but still in school and had to move away from you (you don't know that C saved my life one night the summer before I left), I loved you because you were my mumsy, but I was so glad to be away from the heartbreak and neglect that you put us through. I flourished without you, and I know it had to break your heart sometimes when you weren't half in a bottle that neither one of your children were there with you. And there were times I know that you were glad to just be you while others shouldered your responsibility. It was hard sometimes, trying to explain why I lived with my aunt and uncle instead of my mum. Other times, not so much.

But as I look back on those times, at who I am today, and what I had to go through to get here, I have to smile. Because for as bad as we had it, I'm a better person. I have suceeded - I graduated high school...then college...I got married and have a house and cars and pets and a husband who loves me dearly. As I've gotten older, I find that more people understand what I went through because they had something similar. And there is a friend from high school who's wife went through my life, only hers. I'd like to meet her and compare war stories.

However, I have you for one of my best friends. We can argue and discuss and bitch and moan and laugh and cry and read and talk and go crazy or do nothing. We can talk every day or not at all for several weeks, and nothing changes. We're still us. And I'm grateful.

You are my mumsy, Mom, Mommy, Mum, Mother.

Happy Mother's Day.

I love you, Mumsy Dreamer

Ms Dreamer

Hey, let me know if it would totally inconvenience any of you if I switched over to using my Dreamer and Realist site instead of here. Right now, I find it easier to postie over there. Pics are easier. I'm still debating, though. I'm about to pay the $10 a year to Google and get my own domain. Phbbt. Ms D

Blogging A - Z

It's up at the other place.

Ya know, the wordpress place.

And of course, NOW blogger stops being an asshole.

Ms D

Library Update

The Library has been updated again, and you'll find Blogging I over at my wordpress in about an hour! (I know. I'm behind as usual).

Ms D

Blogging A-Z: G

Blogging A-Z: G is up over at my other house...and H will be up later. Care to join?

Blogging A-Z: F

LDs, really pissing me off, Blogger is (channelling my inner Yoda). So linky here to my wordpress for my Blogging A-Z postie. Maybe Blogger will be fixed sometime. Or maybe not. Ms D

Blogging A-Z: E

Ya know, Blogger...you're starting to piss me off, and I just might link to my wordpress if you keep it up. E. Everything. As in I'd like to try everything. I'm not a daredevil or an adrenaline junky, but just to try. Years ago, there was a paperweight someone found on uncommongoods.com, and it said: "What would you do if you knew you could not fail?" Everything. I'd do everything. Even the illegal stuff. :) Ms D

Blogging A-Z: D

"Dance as if no one were watching, sing as if no one were listening, and live each moment as if it were your last." I am trying, LDs. If you haven't noticed by my blogging topics, I have a tendency to dance to my own drummer. I like dragons. Hell, I wanna be a dragon! Wouldn't that be cool? Some may say I'm disturbed, or dorky, or even deluded. But that's me. I'm daring...sometimes. Direct...sometimes. But never dastardly. I am a dreamer of dreams. Every day. Ms D (and what the fuck is up with Blogger and not accepting enter to start a new line?!)

Blogging A-Z: C

Catholic school, LDs. Because I are one (Catholic, not a Catholic school). I remember in Kindergarten having our own tiny bathroom. Letter People. Coloring and playtime. Trying to memorize your address and phone number. Getting a note sent home to my mom about "paying attention" (yes, I remember what it was for, and no, I'm not telling you). First Communion and wearing the Communion dress that my mumsy wore when she had hers. Being asked who was God's first people, getting stage fright, and even though Father Groesch whispered "Adam and Eve" (and everyone hearing it over the mic and laughing), I still couldn't say it. Christmas programs, and the only line I can remember is "Oh, Susannah, don't you cry for me *big wink to the crowd* - I'll take care of you!" (I was the oldest of three orphans.) Being Tommy's grandmother and wearing someone's reading glasses on the end of my nose and presenting a quilt. Confirmation and choosing a Blessed instead of a Saint for my confirmation name, and getting it approved. Playing sports with the boys and not segregating recess until fifth grade or so. Being a patrol officer in eighth for the younger kids and being the secretary of our board. Soccer parties at Chuck E Cheese and getting Indian names (I was Running Deer), and I still have all those award papers. Learning what it was like to change classes like we would in high school. Getting to spend an entire morning helping the Kindergarteners with their end-of-year program. Being songleader for thirds' First Communion. Birthday weenie roasts and hay rides. Slumber parties where no one slept much at all. Fall Festival and spring Ice Cream Social and snorting PixiStix. Writing good things about everyone in our class. I still have that page of paper. It's in my hope chest, and it's something I don't think I'll ever get rid of. There have been times when I've had a bad day, and just reading those simple, seventh grade affirmations have made me feel better. Seventeen of us - seven girls, ten boys - in the gym after graduation. Not a one of us wasn't tear-streaked. It was the end - the teammates, the closeness, the memories. I haven't seen most of them in 20 years. But if any of them needed my help in any way, I'd be there for them. Then. And now. Some people think it strange to keep in touch with the kids you went to grade school with; I don't think it's weird at all. To the St. Cabrini Class of 1992: love you all. Then and now. Ms D (And I have NO idea why it's not putting the spacing in like I want. Damn Blogger.)

Sunday Funnies

When I was a kid (or if I get the paper), the funny pages is always always always the first thing I read. Makes reading some of the depressing stuff a little better. So we're going to try this - Ms D's Sunday Funnies - just stuff I find amusing or awesome or cool or...well, you get the idea (which could be quite a bit).

I love David Bowie...

see more Celeb Look-A-Likes

Um, yes please?

see more Crazy Shoes and Cool Accessories

Can I be her? I wanna blow zombie heads off!

see more Wedinator

Safe to say, I've never been Rick-Rolled.

see more Failbook

Mr Realist is a wrestling fan, so this one's for him!

see more funny videos, and check out our Yo Dawg lols!

What has been seen cannot be unseen. *shudder*

see more Poorly Dressed

This NEEDS to be in everyone's office (if you work in one)

see more Monday Through Friday

I remember these days...

see more Tots and Giggles

Because he's just too damned cute. I'll be your dinosaur, Darren...

see more Hurr

.

Have a great Sunday, LDs

Ms D

***All links from various sites on icanhascheezburger.com

Blogging A - Z: B

Well, we're at B (because I'm an idiot...see previous postie).

Bookie.

It's what I am. It's what I live for.

Books. I'm a bookie in the same respect as a foodie. I love books and everything that goes along with that.

Paper.

Notebooks.

Pens and Pencils.

Good writing utensils.

Bad writing utensils.

The ink and glue and paper and dust that settles into the cracks of a spine and just smells...perfect.

I read almost everything: classics to the macabre, history to fantasy, true life and true imagination.

But I'm a big fan of the fiction. I love to put myself in as a character that I whole-heartedly believe in. For example, if you've read the Twilight saga, I find myself supporting Alice, because Bella is a twit. And that's a whole 'nother discussion. :)

However, I am in the process of cleaning out my bookshelves. There are books that I have that I can part with, and there are books that I cannot, for a myriad of reasons.

Speaking of which...Imma gonna go sit on my back deck with a beer and a book.

Anyone wanna join?

Ms D

PS: And why the hell can't I make that picture bigger anymore? :P

Blogging A - Z: A

LDs, I'm jumping on the Blogging April A-Z bandwagon (I'm too late to sign up, but I'm going to try it).

The gist is that you have to blog every day of April, except Sundays, and each day needs to start with a letter of the alphabet. Imagine that... :)

So, without further ado, here's A (ed. note: and I'll be doing B as well...because I'm an idiot and went to bed without finishing it....damn).

~~~~~~

A...OOO! Athletics!

I have been athletic all of my life...meaning I started playing organized sports right before first grade, and I've always loved sports.

I played soccer from first through eighth (eight years), my freshman year (two seasons - we had fall and spring ball), and three years in college. So we've got twelve years of soccer.

Basketball started in fifth grade. I went out for and made the team and played for fifth through eighth, and then again my freshman year. That's five years of basketball; seventeen years of sports.

Now, I didn't play any sports my sophomore year in high school. I'd moved to southern Illinois, and neither the basketball coach or the softball coach really liked me much. I schooled a couple of the seniors on the basketball team, and even though I could throw from the outfield pretty much anywhere and was fast as hell, I didn't make either sport. A whole year...wasted.

Before my junior year, a friend dared me to try out for cheerleading. I was bemoaning the fact that I was never going to make a sports team, and I didn't really like volleyball, and she dared me. I tried out. I made it?! WTF? Bowheads were just that - brainless, ditzy airheads whose goal was to jump around and flash their panties at boys (hey, all my knowledge was from movies; my Catholic school didn't have cheerleading). Little did I know before trying out was it was a whole metric fuckton of work. I was a cheerleader for two years in high school, and three years in college. Five years of cheerleading; twenty-two years of sports.

Not only was I a cheerleader for both football and basketball, I ran track (discus, shot, 100m and 4x100, and on a rare occasion, 110m hurdles). Two years of track, twenty-four years of sports.

I played tennis for one year in college, and it rocked; twenty-five years of sports.

For the last four summers, I've been playing beer-league softball; bringing up my grand total to twenty-nine years of sports.

If I've played twenty-nine years of sports, and I'm thirty-three, it means I've played sports every year since I was four. Some of you might say, "But Ms Dreamer, you played for seasons, not years." And that's where you're wrong. Sports are not a "seasonal" thing. It's called 'off-season conditioning.' Even as cheerleaders, we were required to work out at least twice a week in the weight room, and I ran for the hell of it during summers and such. So yeah, they were years.

And this would be why I have:

a now-healed left foot

ankles that get stuck and have to pop

a permanently strained ACL in my left knee

aching hips and shoulders

a strained rotator cuff in my left shoulder

a now-healed hairline fracture just above my right wrist (don't remember which bone)

and at least one concussion.

I'd always been of the knowledge, even before I'd heard it in mainstream, "Go Hard or Go Home."

It's what I lived by. And even with my injuries, I wouldn't give up that athletic history for anything.

How's about you?

Ms D

Library Update

Well, hells. I can't find what I did with my cute pic of the book stacks.

Sigh.

I've updated the Library.

And I got my first adult library card this morning!

Random...

If you don't mind my foul-mouthedness, check out Avitable. He's an awesomely funny motherfucker, and one of these days, I aspire to meet him. He did this survey a couple of weeks ago (maybe longer), and I've saved it up to give to you. Shall we continue?

1. Who would you like to show up at your door to say they love you?

One of my fictional characters.

2. Last furry thing you touched?

My husband's chest.

3. How many drugs have you done in the last three days?

Are we talking legal? Five a day.

4. Do you miss film or does digital work for you?

Digital works for me, but I do miss film.

5. Favorite age you have been so far?

28

6. Your worst enemy?

My stepfather.

7. What is your current desktop picture?

Harry Potter

8. What was the last thing you said that was funny?

"Ha ha - she called you Dick!"

9. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly what would it be?

Fly. I could make a million taking people on 'flights.'

10. Who can’t you say “no” to?

Probably my boss...pathetic, I know.

11. The last song you bought or downloaded?

"Raise Your Glass" ~~ Glee's version of P!nk's song.

12. What time of day were you born?

10.38am. Wanna know how I know? My mumsy calls me every year on my birthday at 10.38am and sings Happy Birthday to me or my voicemail.

13. What’s your favorite number? Why?

18. Just always has been

14. Where did you live in 1987?

I was 9, so Springfield.

15. Are you jealous of anyone?

Quite a few people, actually.

16. Is anyone jealous of you?

I'm not sure why they would be.

17. It’s been almost a decade. Where were you when 9/11 happened?

I was at work, and not many phone calls got answered that day because no one was calling in. They were glued to their televisions and radios.

17 Questions? That's it? O well.

Ya know what, LDs? Have a great rest of the evening.

Ms D

Today, I

LDs, most of you know me as an outspoken, crazy girl who loves the eff word loads and I tells it likes I sees it (at least here), and I'm a generally happy person.

I fake it well, don't I?

For the last six months or so, it's feeling more and more like I'm trapped at the bottom of a dank, damp well where, as the days go by, the opening seems farther and farther away. I normally get this way in the wintertime. See, I'm a child of light; I crave the sunshine and mud and worms and the outdoors. When I can charge my batteries every day with Mother Nature, I am happy. And winter takes that away.

For the last week or so, it's been nice. Nice enough that I had dirty feet Sunday night from being out with the dogs in their mudhole of a backyard. Nice enough that I could turn my face and arms to the sun as if to say "I missed you." Normally, my body knows this and immediately starts to adjust to happy Dreamer. It's not working.

It was 75 here today - 75 and bright sunshine. I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and sleep the day away. O wait. I can't sleep either. I am in bed for approximately seven hours; I sleep for about four. I have reached complete apathy about my position.

I had to go to the doctor today anyway - I'm at the end of a 2-week cold, and it's settling in my ears for the first time in about three years. I have antibiotics (yay), and I mentioned to my doc lady how I was feeling. I cried in her office, and we discussed pharmaceutical help. I have a prescription waiting for me on Friday at our local chemist (small smile; I like it). I don't really want to take it, but I will. I want to be my normal, wacky, weird, freakazoid self. I miss her.

If you're a prayer, send a few good thoughts up for me, please. I could really use it right now.

Ms D

Library Update

Just one book...sorry.

Creative

Ok...need to know who I should work on next. Based on names alone, who should get some much-needed attention? Or should I faff around with a couple in the second set?

See, I'm a romantic. I dig the fairytale-ness of the medieval times, the draw of space, the tragedy of war. So yes, it is what you think.

Much Needed Attention:
Kati and Lalo
Lexy and Evan
Ashley and Andrew (if you've followed here very long, you might remember them)

Faffing Around:
Skye and Troy (this one's a newbie)
Emily and Ray
Holly and Charlie
Sarah and Alan
Marcus & Elizabeth

Your thoughts?

Ms D

Partay!

LDs, did you ever party hard on a Saturday night?

Did you ever party hard on a Saturday night and wake up with no hangover?

Did you ever party hard on a Saturday night, wake up with no hangover, but come Monday morning, your brain was fuzzier than it was on Sunday afternoon?

I answered yes to all three questions. There was another party this weekend at J's house. Now, normally, I let my husband do the drinking. I may have one or two at the beginning of the night, but that's because one of us has to drive home. This time, we took our air mattress, claimed a room in the basement, and both set into some good partying. That hasn't happened in a while.

Now, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. If I drink too many beers, I will have a hangover the next day (without taking the "medicine*" to counteract said hangover). I can drink whiskey (namely my good friend Jack Daniel's) all damn night.

I drank 4/5ths of a fifth (figure that one out). By myself. Starting with a shot (to impress the boys, of course). Did you know that Jack and Diet Coke marry up well?

The night started off just fine - drinking, grilling, never staying in the same room: Beiruit and karaoke in the basement; WoW (nerds) in the dining room; poker in the living room; and smoking on the back deck.

Things I'll tell you from Saturday night.
1. If you've ever seen Police Academy and remember Eugene Tackleberry, you've seen my friend Shane (he's adorbs).
2. Don't underestimate the power of a drunk girl who doesn't like confrontation.
3. Sometimes, you really should just let a cat fight happen. I would have taken bets.
4. Don't piss off a 15-year military man.
5. If you bring your first date to a party of this magnitude and she still likes you, you might have just found a keeper.
6. Do NOT eyeball former police officers and semi-pro football players while flicking your knife open and closed after they've told you to knock it the fuck off. You will go down and you will get hurt.
and
7. Truth comes out when a guy's a bit inebriated - some good, some bad.

Number seven is what got me Saturday. Ben and AJ and I get into this conversation out on the porch (none of us smoke), and Ben's the one who brought it up.

He apologized for my auntie being here (yeah...). Ben's a big man (about three inches taller than Mr Realist), and he likes his women with a bit of meat on their bones. His wife, before she got pregnant with their second son (they've been married 16 years; took them eleven years to get pregnant w/Son 1, five for Son 2), lost 75 pounds, and he still finds her smoking hot.

They made me cry...in a good way, of course. AJ (who has the most beautiful grey/green/blue eyes I've ever seen) is one of those hot muscular guys who normally never give girls like me (shut up...) more than "you're a great friend" position.

Let's put it this way: I think I'm beginning to believe what Mr Realist has been telling me all along. I know that it's sad that I'm just shallow enough to need reassurance from people whom I just met or haven't seen in years. Mr Realist tells me all the time that I am beautiful. I'm beginning to think I am.

Yeah, I know. I went from partying my ass off to a reassurance. Let's get back to the party.

There would have been no less than five fisticuffs that would have happened Saturday night. What I just wanted to say to everyone was just "Suck it up, put on your big girl or boy underwear, and deal. You don't like him/her - don't look/talk/breathe in their general direction, or go to a different fucking room." Gah. Stupid young'uns.

Anyhoo...how was your weekend? I'm looking forward to this Saturday: St. Patrick's Day parade in Springfield. Need to get my greens together, bitches!

Love you all; heepwah, and be safe out there.

Ms D

Library Update

*Image borrowed from Google; guardian.co.uk

Didn't want to forget :) I have a tendency to do that, ya know.

If you ever want to know authors or what the book's about, just message me.

I love to read. If I could make a profession out of just reading, you damn skippy I'd have a new job!

How are your reading lists coming?

Heepwah, and be safe out there.

Ms D

2011 Book Challenge and some ideas

LDs, I'm doing the 2011 Book Challenge again, so I'll update the Library 2011 tab once a week so that I remember...probably on Sunday nights.

My friend Jen and I went to Ree Drummond's book signing in St Louis on Saturday evening for her new book, "Black Heels to Tractor Wheels." She's so freaking amazing.

She also had some great ideas for blogging. Since I got a camera for my birthday, I'll be taking pictures of projects I'm working on, be they jewelry or knitting or the flowers for my SIL's wedding in August. Just as I'm doing for my fitness, I'm going to try this "blog three days a week" - no matter how asinine it is or complex or even just some random shiz. I feel like I've let you all down. I know y'all love reading me (insert sarcastic comment), and I have readers that aren't followers (if that makes any remote sense whatsofreakingever).

Bear with me, LDs. I need to be more dedicated to things. Maybe I'll inspire you or introduce you to something you've never thought about.

Heepwah, and be safe out there.

Ms D

I'm such a horrible blobber. I never update, I never let you in on my life anymore, and for that, I'm sorry.

However, there's some big shit brewin over here in my little slice of the world, and it ain't pretty. It's all going to come to a head, and someone's going to get ugly and someone's going to get hurt.

J has been one of our best friends for ages. He introduced me to DnD, WoW, good foods, good wines, and some really good friends. He's recently become single because he discovered that his girlfriend had lied to him. Repeatedly. And got caught.

See, he works with the public, protecting and serving. So when he was told that his girlfriend's mother was dead, he thought he'd do a good deed by contacting other family members to see if there was something that she could have of her dead mother, lo and behold, her mother's not dead! On the contrary...she's been looking for her daughter!!

She got pissed off. Like didn't want to know anything about what he found.

She was caught in several other lies; the biggest of which is that her father's not a cocaine drug kingpin like she says. She lied straight to Mr Realist's face on something (I don't remember what it was now), and probably to me as well on many small things.

J had had enough. He put a letter where she would be sure to find it (in a pack of more lies), and she returned to the house. She was to pack her stuff and get out (I don't know time frames, so bear with me). J's upset because he really liked her.

He finds out that she's filed a complaint with the department about him abusing his powers and finding her mother. Here's where I get a bit pissy. If she was telling the truth about her 'dead' mother, I would have been overjoyed to know that I had a chance to get to know my mother again. She files a complaint? What the fuck are you covering, bitch? Didn't like that you got caught in a pretty big fucking lie?

It goes back and forth for a while, and the verdict has come down. Because her manipulative, lying, cunty whore ways, my best friend had to resign from this part of his career.

So, not only did J buy her a laptop computer, a car, and got her mother back, but she took his fucking job away from him? Where do I sign up with a fucking club?

Anyway...she's FB friends with his ex-fiance...and Mr Realist's younger brother. What the fuck, Chuck?! Apparently, she searched him out, and she knew exactly who she was getting into a relationship with.

And you all got another think coming if you expect me to be friends with the cunty whore. Huh-uh. No fucking way. Not on her miserable little life.

Here's the rub: we're apparently supposed to be happy for Younger Brother Realist because he's happy? Huh-uh. No fucking way. He's telling us that we're supposed to look beyond that she has a past, because everyone does.

So we're just supposed to look past the fact that she ruined someone else's life? Wow. Huh-uh. No fucking way. Not on anyone's miserable life.

Here's my prediction for this relationship: they're going to compare pasts - she has Asperger's; he's got Middle Child Syndrome, and it will blossom into lies each bigger than the last - my mother's dead; my dad used to beat me; I've got cancer.

She's supposedly Jewish, and he wants to be a youth minister. Wonder how that's going to work? ;) "My god's better than your god!"

And the fuck if I have to be nice to her. Huh-uh. No fucking way. God himself would have a hard time convincing me to be nice. Ain't gonna happen.

I'm done being nice. And I'm choosing my side.

And no offense to anyone out there, but NO ONE is that fucking clueless. It's just not possible. 2 + 2 = 4. The sky is blue. And cows go Moo.

Fuck really? I'm dumbfounded, flabbergasted, and gobsmacked, all in the same sentence.

Which I thought THAT was never possible.

Apparently, it is!

Heepwah, and be safe out there.

Ms D

Sometimes I Feel...

Good morning/afternoon, LDs. How are you on this fine January day?

I was just going through some of my old notes on Facebook, and I found a fun one from 2009. So here's a letter from me to Austin:

Dear Austin,
Our socks don't match. When I quoted Forrest Gump in your car, all you wanted to do was carve your initials into the elephant in the corner.

I'm open to the idea that you need a sex change (dude, your toe ring and your collection of butterflies kinda give it away). I will always remember the pep talks and telling you that you should stop picking your nose (but obviously it hasn't worked)

Best of luck on the sex change,

Steph


Heepwah, and be safe out there,

Ms D

Naughty naughty...

I've recently been introduced to Ange. Omigod, is she ever funny!

And I think I totally buggered up the Cadbury post, but I don't care. Our Dollar General...

Has. Them. Now.

Mr Realist brought me one home on Tuesday. I love that man.

Anyway, this might be a dirty postie. No, scratch that. It WILL be a dirty postie.

Ange posted (on Hump Day, mind you) the Naughty List.

While I'm also answering the questions Ange asked, I checked up on the blog before me, and the question was: If your husband, boyfriend, partner, mate, or significant other all of a sudden stopped getting you to that euphoric, climactic, happy moment (Ok... Orgasm, for those of you how don't get my wording) would you cheat on him/her, leave that person, or tell him/her that their not cutting the mustard anymore so you can start getting the goods again??

I'd tell Mr Realist (and I have before). Normally it's because we've gotten into a sex routine (same place, same position, same damn time of the week), and it's just not cutting it anymore. It helps. Gotta change it up, yos!

Now, I'm going to ask one of the one following me: Do you ever have to resort to thinking of something else while you're having sex just to get off?

The question Ange asked was: Do you share your deepest kept fantasies with your significant other? Are there any that you are too afraid to share?

Well, I have lots of fantasies, some of them even involving my husband! Mostly, they're kept inside my head. Gives me fodder for when I'm writing a particularly steamy scene. And getting it under a steamy hot shower spray (fantasy or real) just kind of makes me happy in the pants, if you know what I mean *lascivious nod* Maybe if I drop about 60 pounds, some of those fantasies might become reality.

But the question she was asked was: "What, if any, cartoon characters have you crushed on? Don't forget the naughty details!"

If you've read here any length of time, you'll know that I have a 300-ring circus for an imagination (and not because I say so).

So, out in the open air, for all of my readers to think I've gone completely around the bend, are my Top 5 cartoon fantasies (yeah, there's five. Wanna make something of it?)

5. Philip J Fry from Futurama. I have no idea why I think he's sexy. Maybe it's the hair - I have a thing for gingers. Maybe it's the fact that Leela constantly brushes him off. Maybe it's because he's 1000 years in the future and I feel sorry for him.

4. Jacuzzi Splot from Baccano! It's a anime that was only 16 episodes long. He's just...cute. And that's a tattoo on the side of his face so his wannabe-girlfriend Nice (pronounced Neece) wouldn't get made fun of for her scars.

2 & 3. Ryoga Hibiki and Ranma Saotome. Anime from Ranma 1/2. Ranma fell into an ancient spring, and hot water turns him into a girl. Ryoga fell into a similar spring, but he turns into a cute little pig. Ranma is engaged to Akane, says he doesn't love her (but he does); Ryoga is in love with Akane but has no idea how to tell her since she's engaged to Ranma, who happens to be his number one enemy. I think it might have to do with the skill of the artist. Ranma's in blue, Ryoga in gold.

1. (sigh) Dr. Ray Stantz from The Real Ghostbusters. Now, before you give me any grief, I think I actually fell in love with Dan Aykroyd in the original movie. He's just so...wow. So that, in turn, led to the cartoon series, and yet again, a ginger (he's more of an auburn, though). He's like a big kid, which means we fit perfectly together! :) He can PKE meter me any time. :)

A'right, a'right. There. Now you know for sure that your Dreamer has gone around the bend and should probably have a white comfy coat on right now.

However, in the immortal words of Frank Harris, Detective, Cool World PD: "'Noids do not have sex with doodles."

Oh, but to be a doodle...just for a while.

Heepwah, and be safe out there.

Ms D