POUNCE on this, a*$hole

Since there's been talk of tattoos lately...

So, I've got this tattoo, and I loved it. In fact, I still sorta like it, except I know it needs some touch-up, which I've been meaning to do for, well forEVER. But lately I've been thinking about getting it covered up. Seriously. With a different tattoo, anyway. So, my lovelies, what do you think? What can I get this covered up with?

Because, uh, here's the issue. Apparently every motherhumper besides my kid thinks that they are oh-so funny and they say something along the lines of "Oh, is Tigger giving it to Pooh?" or "Wow, I didn't know they were gay" or "Dude, are they fucking?" And every f-ing time, I have to explain to the stupid people, "Noooooooo, Tigger POUNCES. He POUNCES on everyone. Get your damn mind out of the gutter!"

And frankly, I'm so sick of explaining and getting the sideways glances and giggles. *defeated sigh*

So, I was thinking of getting Pooh covered up, so Tigger is left. Or, maybe I could get something like a cherry blossom branch and they could tattoo lots of white over all of it? Hell, I really need to see a good artist for this one.

Any suggestions, people?

Also, my brother has been hounding me for YEARS to go get another tattoo, and I totally want to, but I want something that means something to me. And I'm thinking of getting something on the top of my foot, or on my shoulder. Squeee!

Grief

I've found that I don't trust you,
Or myself,
When I'm with you.
I am nervous
And watching every step
Ready to defend & prove
My unselfish servitude.

I refuse to do this again-
in my head.
But I will.
I do:

Don't tell me I'm wrong
Or that my thoughts are ignorant
That I have nothing to fear
And then tell me I haven't done enough.

More and more,
I feel my hope slipping.

I slide, in my tears
I fall
to my knees,
into a puddle of fear.

Grip what I cannot: my heart.
It is in my stomach churning,
No more, please stop.
I am wrong, mistaken.

I try my damnedest to do right by you,
but this aching-I am weak.
I give away what I need most-
My strength.
I am broken, fallen.

You do this to me
And you are proud.
You know these scars well,
You pick at my wounds to see me bleed.
Because you know
I cannot stand the sight of my blood, mixed with my tears,
Because you know
I will turn my head,
defeated.

Then.

Build me to break me
Kill me to save me
Apologize to do no good.
I accept-
We knew I would.

Yeah, I've got one-what's the big deal?

There are many things in my life that I have had to give up, for better or worse. Some were not so difficult: I didn't drink an ounce of alcohol while I was pregnant. I can give up candy or ice cream for the 40 days of Lent each year. I gave up watching The Bachelor (there was some withdrawal there) with hardly a tear.
Other things were more difficult: Burying my childhood dog, Victoria, who lived for 14 long, lucky years. More recently, losing my old man dog, Kooter. Burying my grandparents. Kissing my partying life goodbye when I decided I wanted to have a child. Saying goodbye to kids on my caseload, whether I wanted to or not. Agreeing to getting a fake Christmas tree, when I really didn't want to agree at all.
It's still difficult to deal with the fact that I no longer have the buff, strong, firm body that I had when I was 17. It's unpleasant to come to terms with the fact that my husband and I are not the same teenagers we once were (although we like to think we are sometimes, when we tie one off). I had to say goodbye to little tiny onesies and cute baby outfits, when my girl stopped being a baby. That's a tough one!
I've had to say goodbye to friendships. I've had to say goodbye to people I really cared about, bonded with, felt a connection with.
I've had to fight for (and sometimes lose) things I really believe in, and fight with people I love about those things.
But, the thing I cannot say goodbye to is.....

...the blanket my grandmother gave me when I was a very little girl. It was something she ordered in the mail, after collecting proof-of-purchase's. It is the Jolly Green Giant & Little Sprout. It is currently in my lap as I type this. Go ahead, laugh. It is warn out, faded, threadbare, see-through, and covered in dingle balls, all at the same time. But, it is soft, comfortable, cuddly, (somewhat)warm, and MINE. I love it. In high school I used it for warmth. In college-ditto. Now-ditto. But, it has been a source of comfort too, during difficult times in my life, when I am worn out, stressed, tired, sick, sad. And now, I have a 4 year old who says 'I want my mommy's blankie' when she is tired or cold. Oh hell, I have a blankie, and I'm 31. So can I really ever say anything about her little tiny blankie, when mine is full size? (See how threadbare it is? My hubby makes fun of it all the time)

It's not just that it is all of the above, but it is also that it is from my grandmother, who I truly adored, who is gone from my life in the physical sense. Except, not when I have this blanket. Then she is here, with me.

So tell me people-does anyone have something they cannot say goodbye too, embarrassing as it may be??

Music Lover Monday-Melancholy 101

Maybe too much of my life is intertwined, caught up, stuck in music. I don't know. It's in my blood. I hear songs in my head when I sleep, sorta like a damn soundtrack to my dreams. Exactly like a soundtrack. This song is so sweet and melancholy, and I really didn't think of anyone when I heard it. It just made me melancholy. Until, I had a variation of the same dream about my college ex-boyfriend. And this played in my head as I dreamt. And now? Now it breaks my heart to hear it. I mean, it's exactly us, the way we were, in the end. The silence, the screaming, the heart-wrenching pain of knowing I have to walk away, I already walked away, how can I walk back after I already tore him up?

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could sleep and not dream.

Ready or not, here I come......

We play Hide'n'Seek in our house on a regular basis. We've had small-scale games, with just the three of us, where my girl has fits of giggles, never stays in her hiding spot, and I pee my pants from laughing. Oh, and the dog. Ha! Don't even think you can hide without her telling on you. I can't tell you how many times one of us had been hiding near her, and she starts wagging her tail or looking in your general direction as the Seeker is seeking.

We also have large-scale games, with Grandpa and Monkey Matt involved, or Grandma and Aunt Angel. Again, I almost pee my pants and she giggles her way through the game. We always find her, no one ever finds me in my favorite hiding spot (shhhh! Can't tell you, just in case you ever come over to my house and we suck you into a game!), and we all end up out of breath and smiling.

She's found another hiding spot, but hasn't had the chance to use it in a large-scale game.

Do you have any silly games you play on a regular basis with your family?

For the love of all that is just and holy, shut the holy hell up!

Two things are keeping me from a decent night's sleep:

[Please excuse the darkness, the fact that I can't figure out which light switch goes to the outdoor light (hi-i've lived here almost 2 years), & the shitty visuals. Sleep.deprived.]

A conditioned response

We were professional acquaintances. He was tall, handsome, full smile, warm eyes, a kind open face, although I didn't know any of this at first, since we only spoke on the phone. All professional, but small chit-chat at times. For well over two years, I only knew him by his voice.

When I met him, again, for work-related purposes, I was in awe. He did not look at all like I had imagined him to. Sorta like when you only know someone through their blog, and then when you actually talk to them on the phone, they sound nothing like you thought they would. But when you think about it, what would they have sounded like?

During this meeting, I felt his eyes on me. I tried not to flirt, but it just sorta came out. We talked about so many things, getting to know one another, all in one day. We all had to have lunch together, and he cracked me up (a theme here: all the men I have loved have cracked me up). He was smart, funny, outgoing, loud, polite, sexy.

We were (are) both married. Nothing inappropriate was ever said or done. We never addressed the spark, the connection, the feeling, except with our eyes.

He left the job for a better opportunity. He sent me an email, telling me it was a pleasure to work with me all these years, and that he would miss me. That's it. I didn't expect more, and am happy there wasn't more said. Because then it would be out there, between us, in our minds, and I don't think I could have handled that.

I'm not the cheating kind. I adore my husband. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I was put in that situation. I am typical Pisces-I am this way, and then that way. I am wishy-washy, so torn by each important decision I must make, feeling the balance of my world tilt, wobble, and fall back into place.

I left my job a couple of months later.

This was 2 years ago.

But this song, it's my bell. It rings, and I respond the same way every damn time. I think of him.