.::still blinking::.

jj and I celebrate our VD in a small way. I got him a couple small presents, including pistachios because he loves them and we never have enough in the house it seems. He got me a subscription to Real Simple Magazine, a gift that keeps on giving. Unfortunately for him I do the finances and saw that he had ordered it about a week ago. But I am so excited to read it. It is sitting on my bed stand waiting for me. I don’t know what I am waiting for, but once I go through it I will have to find something new to entertain me. I am not ready to give up that feeling of going through a magazine for the first time.

Also, in celebration of the holiday we are going to the temple tonight. Isn’t that romantic? Normally I would not go, but it is Stake Temple night and someone put my name on the list. I am pretty sure that it was not me because I have not been to the temple since my sister Kateka got married in Augustish. To say the least, it is not one of my favorite activities. To help along the romantic feelings jj and I are going at separate times. I will go when he gets home from work, he will go when I get home. I am sure by the time he gets home I will be in bed watching American Idol, that is an activity I far prefer.

Also, jj got up early this morning and after his workout he jetted over to Harmon’s to buy me some flowers. I do like fresh flowers, and jj.

As I write this, the boy sits across the table eating the last bits of popcorn from a bowl and sucking the life from unsuspecting oranges, and I cannot have any. I already asked.

He is so fun lately and says funny things all the time. We will not let him have bandaids, or as he calls them bangers, unless he is bleeding. The other day we were in the car and I guess he had bonked his head somehow and was begging for a banger. I told him that he was not bleeding and so he did not need one. After about a minute he informed me, “Mom, my head bleeding really bad! I NEED a banger.”

He is now drowning tortilla chips in his glass of water and then slurping up the remains. And yes, I just sit and watch. I don’t really care how he eats as long has he is eating.

The weird thing about him eating is that he is so picky, but he loves steak. Half cooked bloody steak, he will have the blood dripping down his chin like Eric the Red and I don’t say a word; I am far to chicken to draw his attention to the fact that was he is eating. Something we usually have to bribe him to do unless this eating activity involves chocolate. I am so amazed that he would even let steak sit on his plate. Usually if he does not like the food he will throw it on the floor or at me because I am the offending party, obviously. I am amazed at his ingesting half cooked steak when he acts like noodles are going to cause his death and I must be the devil for trying to get him to eat such toxic worms.

I finished a book this morning, She’s Come Undoneby Wally Lamb. It is for the book club I am in.

I don’t know if I would recommend this title, but I am seriously thinking about sending it to my dad. Not because it only relates to him, it related to me also. I think that any person could find that we all do the same things in our lives. We repress ourselves and if we get caught up in the pain of our childhood then we stay fourteen years old for the rest of our lives. The book was about moving forward, and becoming the person you are meant to be. It was about figuring out that you deserve to be loved, but you have to be completely honest with the people that love you. That is what love is anyway, being loved in spite of who you are.

I feel like in order to be loved you have to love yourself first. No one else is going to do the job that you are supposed to be doing and no one else can do it better than you. However, there is the point where you take it to far. That is not what I am talking about. You need to know the value of you. You need to know who you are and what you stand for. You need to know what your limits are and what you will and won’t put up with. You need to know that you are worth standing up for. You need to love yourself enough to be honest with yourself. No one else can fix you, it is completely up to you.

And then when you love yourself, other will love you too. I struggle with letting others love me. I keep myself guarded. People are not going to love you the way you think they should. Just because they are not doing it your way, does not mean they are doing it wrong.

“Accept what people offer. Drink their milkshakes. Take their love.”

I am learning.

On being crazy, she says, “It was a matter of perspective, I began to see. The whole world was crazy; I’d flattered myself by assuming I was a semifinalist.”

Aren’t we all kind of nutty? Some of us are just better at keeping a secret than others.

I guess we are all stunted children. We are all emotionally constipated. But when we finally let love in, we start to see what we are capable of, what we can do for others and what they are willing to do for us.

I think it has a lot to do with honesty and love. We all deserve love from people who are willing to give it without a price tag attached.

I liked this book, but it would easily be rated “R.” There is tons of bad language and a sex scene that made me feel dirty for a day. There is actually a lot of sex. It was pretty much like prime time tv, with more bad language. It is also 465 pages, but it only took me 4ish days to read, and I do other things a lot of the time.

I have been sick all week. Gentry seems to be better and I cannot seem to get over the sore throat and the other optional side syndromes that I peddle trough daily.

Because of this I have not seen the new baby, and I probably won’t for a while. I am not that mother, the one who drops her sick kids off at your house and peels out of the drive way mumbling, “See ya suckas! My day is ruled by the almighty dollar and not the health and well being of you or my children.” I am not opposed to women working who have children. That is your business. However, if I am recovering from your business for the next week to week and half, I might turn on you. Like the white tiger on Roy. I will be all over you like a spider monkey.

Because I am a whore for time to myself, I sent jj and Gentry to the museum. I am now deciding what to do with the day; take some medicine and clean or lay in the bed like a sloth and let moss grow on my unmoving body, eventually blending in with the bed. Both options having their upsides. The cleaning being that I am always loosing hair, if I was a chia pet you would find little spouts of plants all over the house including on top of the fridge, wrapped between your toes, and in balls that resemble spiders in your socks. I need to start vacuuming more and getting rid of the massive amounts of hair that have almost formed a net over the doors making it impossible to get out of the house. Becoming one with the sloth, I think it is obvious why I would want to do that.

I do vacuum, every Saturday. How this hair has taken over I do not know. But it is gross in a way beyond gross kind of way.