There she goes AGAIN!

It's happened AGAIN! I just need to vent so stand back. I HATE BEING THE THIRD WHEEL!!! IT'S MY SESSION, TOO!! WHY SHOULD I FEEL LIKE THE P-I-A LITTLE SISTER?? IF I COULD AFFORD PRIVATE SESSIONS, I'D BE TAKING THEM IN A HEARTBEAT!!!

There, that's over. Now off to my shower where I will cry silent tears of anger, frustration and maybe a bit of shame.

Cheers to another Monday...

This is...awkward!

Has this ever happened to you? You're standing around waiting, for a bus (location changed to protect the guilty) let's say. You're with two other people, one a guy and the other a girl. Suddenly, you are the third wheel, the one standing and gawking while the other two are flirting giddily while supposedly "discussing" a particular topic. Giggling and playful touching. AWKWARD! Especially since one of the parties involved is older and married. SUPER AWKWARD!!

This happened to me today. I won't say where, but it sure wasn't at school and it wasn't at home. If you know me well enough you can probably guess the other place where I spend a bulk of my time. There I am, waiting patiently and then feeling stupid, like an annoying little sister who has just caught her sibling & boyfriend kissing. EWWWW! Oh to have said, "Get a room!" and then seen their reactions. This isn't the first time the older, married woman has sort of thrown herself at the young man. Since she has a record it's bound to happen again. What am I supposed to do? Besides make gagging noises, I mean.

Maybe I should ask Dear Abby.

My Mother Warned Me About This...

Okay, my mother warned me that something like this would happen one day. One day my "smart mouth" would get me into trouble. Now really, this is not the first time. I mean, in all of my 40 years I have definitely smarted off a time or ten. Most of those times have been chalked up to me being sarcastic and people getting that. There have a few times when I've been sarcastic and people don't get it. Their loss. (I'd like to order a sense of humor, please!) But, most people who know me know that about me. Occasionally my sarcasm has more bite to it, like when I'm in a "discussion" (read: argument) with Bobby. I can definitely lay it on pretty thick when provoked. So here's the story about a girl, an FB friend and their posts.

Once upon a time there was a fairly young woman named Talking Stephanie. She LOVES making friends and talking to people. In fact, talking is one of her favorite pastimes. Talking Stephanie can't sit next to someone and not chit-chat. When she found Facebook, Talking Stephanie was in heaven. She could "friend" people, past and present. It was a great way to connect with newbie friends and reconnect with the golden oldies.

One day, a newbie friend named Needy Eilsel, sent a friend request to Talking Steph, who accepted. The two gals had met recently and seemed to get along very well. Not hard when you only see each other twice a week at a social activity. They each read the other's occasional FB posts. Needy tended to post only when she or a member of her immediate family was ill. The posts weren't the "feeling sick" or "running fever" variety but the "my (fill in the blank) is sick with purple pus coming out of his ears" variety. EEWWWwwwwww! If you gotta post that you're sick, please spare us the deets!!

Tempted though she was, Talking Steph did her best not to snark on those grosser than gross posts. Until one day several months ago. She basically responded with a "sucks to be you" comment. (There's the smart mouth rearing it's ugly head) The comment stayed under the radar. Yucky, sickening detailed posts continued appearing from Needy on a regular basis. It took a herculean effort for Talking Steph to keep her "eeewwwww" comments to herself.

Two weeks ago, Talking Steph could keep her self-control no longer. There it was. The "sicky" post. As if under some magic spell, Talking Stephanie's fingers bounced over the keyboard of her computer typing a snarkier than snarky comment. Then those same fingers clicked "reply". Talking Stephanie went on about her life completely oblivious to the havoc that her snarky comment wreaked. Last night, she was busted for it! Needy had messaged her with a four-paragraph long letter chewing her up one side and down the other. Talking Stephanie got told! Bad!

After a few minutes, her head stopped spinning from the virtual slap. Talking Stephanie couldn't believe the hornets' nest she'd walked into. She must've really caught Needy on a BAD day. She should've heard the cracking noise. (that would be the camel's back breaking from one too many straws!) Talking Stephanie couldn't believe her eyes and probably read the letter fifteen times before deciding whether or not to respond. She finally decided. Respond with an apology. Then, unfriend. That way no more annoyingly disgusting posts would make their way onto her computer screen. "Dear Needy, I am so sorry. I didn't realize. It won't EVER happen again. EVER." Unfriend.

And Talking Stephanie lived happily ever after with her real friends after all.

Holy Cow!! It's September already?!

And not "just September"...but we're 1/3 of the way into the month! Not to sound like a 100 y.o. woman but where did the time go??

So I've made it this far into the year with only a few days of "baby regret" or "why have I waited so long to have a second child?" That is a very slippery slope into the "I'm here for the pity party...table for 1." (I think I've caught "Mary-itis" or "put quotation marks around EVERYTHING" disease! MUST STOP NOW!)

When I was pregnant with Evan and blissfully ignorant of the behind-the-scenes world of mothers, I would sit and plan. I wanted to be pregnant with baby #2 by the time Evan was
2 1/2. That would make him 3 when the baby was born. Then possibly I might want to have a 3rd when baby #2 was 2 1/2. Well, that bubble burst and left gum goo all over my face!

Now I have a 7 y.o. And a lot of regret. Honestly, I think the reason I try to stay super busy is so that I am sooooo distracted by everything else that I think I won't have time to be sad over the fact that we have no baby #2. (or #3, come to that)

I do take comfort in the fact that I'm not the only one who will have two kids WAY far apart in age and basically be raising two "only" children (according to Dr. Kevin Leman, guru of birth order) I just need to focus on that comfort and not the regret.

Easier said than done.

"And the beat goes on..."

Just trying to think of something to blog. I can think of a million things...when it's not convenient to be at my computer. When I sit with Evan, in the quiet of his room at bedtime, my mind races with possibilities! Including potential titles and the "what ifs". For example, what if people started talking about my blog like my friends talk about other blogs ("perpetually sticky" or "jennsylvania")?How cool would that be!! What if I ended up with a huge following? Chances are it won't happen, but...

Possible post titles: "Makeover, makeover, make me over" (of course you have to sing it to the tune of "Matchmaker, Matchmaker" from "Fiddler on the Roof"); "The room that swallowed us" (organizing tips from a very unorganized person); "Call me crazy one more time"(how to get along with in-laws); "The art of the flare" (as in nostril flare of total rejection or how to ignore snotty neighbors); "Spin me a yarn" (how I have WAY too much yarn for WAY too many projects but keep buying it anyway. Because it soothes me. Just smile and nod.); "Oh no he di'int" (the hubby chronicles); "A Pope walks into a bar..."( yes, I know my fair share of "pope jokes").

Just some stream of consciousness. Trying to clear some of the mental traffic in hopes of preventing mental gridlock.

It's trash day AGAIN!

Just an F.Y.I...it's Wednesday. Some call it hump day; to us it's trash day. And, recently in my world I'm calling it "Big Cold Shoulder Day" or "Snub Day". The lucky people who get to participate are ones on my s-list. (Basically that includes the sturms *gag* and inept drivers) If I speak to you on a Wednesday, YOU have nothing to worry about!! You rate as still one of my favorites!!

Okay, I get it! (sort of)

So I've been happily going about my business of daily living with the added plus of "nostril flares of total rejection" at the across-the-street-neighbors. The coup-de-grace happened on trash day this week when I didn't even look at much less say anything to Mr. Sturm (aka Mr. Bully). I was walking to my trash can at the end of my driveway to throw something in it. Clearly it hadn't been picked up yet. Out of the corner of my eye I see movement across enemy lines. It was actually kinda fun to give a BIG cold shoulder. I know he gets it. He gets that we are not on speaking terms because I usually can't resist trying to say some kind of greeting in order to be the friendly neighbor. I usually say hello or make a comment about the weather. NOT on Wednesday! It was the hugest brush off I've ever pulled off. AND, bonus points for Bobby for totally backing me up! He hasn't once tried the "be the bigger person" talk. (Thanks, Sweetie!! ILY)



I've enjoyed my position as secret snubber. Until today. At church. My pastor goes and spoils it. Like I've said before, I have had numerous chats with God about the sitch. He knows how I'm wired and why I feel like I do. AND, like the gracious and loving God He is, He has loved me anyway. The conviction has remained at bay. Until today. Today, Pastor Jason started a 9-week series on "City Without Walls." Today's message? Being about the business of building God's house. (Such a great message, btw!) At the end, he lead the congregation in a confession, of sorts. Within the confession itself were things like, "not loving our neighbors in a way pleasing to God." Well if that isn't a cold bucket of water dumped over my head! Seriously? I mean, I can forgive but I am not willing, at this point, to remember that I've forgiven. Know what I mean?

In time I am sure that I will be willing to be willing to not only forgive but also forget. Until then I plan on living like they don't exist in my world. Or until Jesus comes back. That day might be a good one to make it stick.