One of my favorite memories as a child was when my dad would take the whole family down to the airport to sit in the dirt roadway and watch them take off and land.
It was the greatest thing to us. My dad would say “jump in the car and let’s go for an ice cream”. We would scream and jump in the back of the station wagon, go through the drive thru at McDonalds to get a cone, then head on down the street to the airport.
Once we were there, we’d park in this little dirt road just off to the side of the run way and sit on the hood of the car. Back then, there was nothing but a little chain link fence between the road and the runway, so you could see the take offs and landings perfectly. We would sit there for hours and watch. I couldn’t get enough of it, it was so exciting for me. My dad would always end up having to drag me back into the car because I didn’t ever want to leave.
I have always wanted to take my kids to do the same thing, but now the airport is completely different and there isn’t anywhere to sit and watch like there was before. It makes me sad because as corny as it may sound, it was so much fun to sit there as a family, eating ice cream and watching these huge planes touch down on the runway and come to a screaching stop.
Still to this day, when I see a plane taking off from the distance, I will follow it with my eyes until it disappears into the sky and I think back to the days of being a little girl, sitting on the hood of my dads station wagon, with my head on his shoulders, waiting for the next plane to take off or land. My brothers and sister would be running around in the dirt, licking their ice creams, laughing…
That memory just makes me smile because all was right in my little world back then.

My husband wants to go camping this summer. That’s fine with me, he can go wtih the boys, but I refuse to go.
I am such a “girl” when it comes to camping. I’m totally not into roughin’ it.
I told him the only way I’ll go is if he rents me a big ass motor home with a shower and a kitchen.
He says that’s not camping. Camping, in his opinion, is pitching a tent and eating army rations.
Well then, I’m not going. I am not going for 3 days without a shower and I don’t care if they have showers on the camp grounds, chances are they’re nasty and I am not standing on no floor where I have no idea whos juice has dripped on that floor. Oh hell no.
Then there’s the campfire. I hate the smell of fire all up in my hair.
All of my friends who have been camping say I don’t know what I’m missing, that it’s a wonderful experience.
Oh, so sad for me, too bad I’ll never experience it, but y’all have fun with the bugs and the dirt and the stank and the bears and the disgusting food and the nasty bathrooms.
I’ll stay here at home with the air on and take showers all day, watch TV, look at pictures of me and Jay, eat skinny cows and piss and take dumps on my freshly scrubbed toilet while reading E.E. Cummings poetry.

That thing people say about not going grocery shopping when you’re hungry… that’s good advice, heed it.
I went to get toilet paper and ice and ended up spending $57.58.
Anyone want a pop tart? How about some doritos? Some cookies with peanut butter in the middle? No? How about some rice pudding? Fruit? A triscuit?

It’s so hard watching people you love suffer from something you know all to well because you’ve been there and are fighting hard every day to not go back.
I’m talking of depression and anxiety.
Last night the friend that cancelled said she was having a hard time with anxiety and wasn’t well. She’d hoped I’d understand.
At first I was upset, then I stopped and thought, that was me just a couple months ago. I was terrified to step out of my house because of how I looked. I felt like a monster. I have gained weight and let myself go. I didn’t want the world to see me. No matter how hard people would try and beg for me to go, no matter how hard they tried to convince me that I would have fun “once I was there” I couldn’t make myself do it. I still fight those fears everytime I step out of my house, but each time I feel stronger and I have finally realized I have been letting me life pass me by. I don’t want to do that anymore, but it took a lot of hard work, love and talking to get me to this point.
I wanted to tell my friend to just do it, to get dressed and come have some fun. I knew that once she got there she’d have the time of her life. Tony told me to call her and tell her that. I tried, she didn’t answer.
I tried to explain this to my husband. When you’re in that condition, you can’t comprehend that you could actually have fun if you went out. You dread it, you fear it, fear controls you. It’s horrible and the worst part is no one can do anything to convince you otherwise. It’s as though you are a prisoner of your own mind.
It’s so hard to watch someone else go through it, now that the fog has lifted from my eyes and I’m stronger. I feel so helpless. I just wish I could help, but I know from experience it’s something only you yourself can fix, with lots of love and support from others, of course. All I can do is be there to cheer her on and tell her I love her and be there to hold her while she cries and when she feels she can’t go on, but the one thing I want to do more than anything in this world, make her happy again, I can’t do and it pains me deeply.
Sigh.

I almost died at the hands of a water bottle right now.
Luckily I was home alone so my children can’t mock me for the rest of my life that at the fact I almost drowned from a water bottle didn’t have to suffer the trauma of watching their mom gasping for breath on the kitchen floor.
Do not ask for details, they are too painful to talk about.
I just can’t stop thinking how people would have been laughing at my funeral and how someone would walk up to the graveside with a water bottle and Tony would scream “nooooooooooo , how could youuuuuuuuuuuuu.” and knock them to the ground and grab the bottle and how everyone would have to pull him off the stupid ass who didn’t think it might not be a good idea to bring the thing that caused my death to the graveside.
Near death experiences aren’t fun.

I hate to see a friend hurting, sad, upset or just having a rough time.
It pains me, it truly does. I will lose sleep over it, I will worry constantly. I will think of things that I could do to make it better for them.
It’s frustrating sometimes because there’s really nothing you can do but just let them know you love them and are there for them.
I still can’t help but think of ways to make them smile, ways to make them laugh, ways to make them stop hurting. If I could take away their pain and sadness, I’d gladly do it.
I want to send flowers to brighten their day.
I want to send cards and tell them how much they mean to me.
I want to bake them cakes and let them know how sweet my life is with them in it.
I want to call them and just be there to listen.
I want to go hug them.
I want to spin on my head, burp, tell jokes, sing silly songs, or whatever it takes to make them laugh, just to see them smile for a second.
I do these things, and many more to let my friends whom I love know how much they mean to me, but the one thing I wish I could do that I can’t is make them stop hurting. It pains me and I feel so helpless at times.
I just hope knowing that I’m here and that I love them will help in some small way.

Is there anything better than laying naked and being one with your cool, soft, clean sheets?
I do not think there is.

I am feeling somewhat overwhelmed today.
There are bills to be paid, phone calls to make, errands to be run, decisions to be made, orgasms to be had.
Usually, it’s times like these that the panic sets in. It’s these moments that I start to freak out and worry if I’m going to have a panic attack.
It’s not the case today. I feel fine. I am taking things slowly, doing one thing at a time. I have already accomplished one of the things on the list (anyone care to guess which one? heh) And now I am ready to take the day on.
It’s so awesome to feel this good, to feel in control of my life again. In the back of my mind there is that fear that it’s only a matter of time before I come crashing down again, but as soon as I start having those thoughts, I push them aside and focus on all that is good in my life right now.
I haven’t cried in days. I haven’t had any urges to hurt myself. I have been getting out of the house, enjoying the world around me again and it feels so good.
Now, I just hope I feel this good after I get done paying this stack of bills staring me in the face, but I doubt it.
Can’t I just win the kottery already?!?!

Summer is just about here. Time to break out the sandals.
Do me yourself a favor and take care of your feet before you start showing them to the world. Please.
-If your big toe is hairy, shave it.
-If your nails have fungus, have it taken care of.
-If you have thick heels, buy a pumice stone and file that shit down.
-Paint your nails and whatever you do, do NOT “reapply” if it starts to chip, just buy some damn nail polish remover and redo them all.
It’s no secret I hate my feet because they are ugly, but I still take good care of them. I think everyone who plans on showing their feet this summer should do the world a favor and make them presentable so I don’t start dry heaving when I have to stare at them when you’re in front of me in line at Jack in the box.
Thank you.

If a bee flies into my van car while I’m sitting in the drive thru, I will put the thing in park and jump out and I will not get back in until I know for damn sure the mutha fucker has flown out.
I do not care if you get pissed and want to kick my ass.
I know kickboxing, chances are, you don’t.
The bee has a stinger, chances are, you don’t.
Even if you do know kickboxing and could beat me up, I’d rather have you kick my ass and pound my head into the pavement than have a bee stinger in my neck.
I’m just sorry the dude behind me didn’t know this before hand.
But you know, so don’t be all outraged if and when it ever happens.