That’s a squeal of joy, not terror, you hear.

Every time failure seems an eminent possibility, I manage to pull out a close save or receive some renewing hope.

This venture is teaching.  I’ll never fear an interview again.  Never be afraid of the rejection of a stranger.  Never forget the money management I’m learning.

In fact, I’m ecstatic for the opportunity to continue living as basic as possible and stashing the rest when the day comes I finally can.  I really have the power to do so much more with very little – I always did it just never seemed like enough to me.  But it will feel better to say that with a little more, some cushion.

One thing I’ll never take for granted – being my own boss is kick-ass.  I refuse to settle and in my rebellion if I can succeed at this too – all the better.

Hello again

It’s such a funny, surprising comfort to run across an old friend.  Someone you never thought you’d cross paths with, no matter how often you Googled them or talked to other old friends who said the same thing.

Then pop, they are there.  I’m so happy to hear my first best friend is making the best of and thriving in a new life, immensely different from how she grew up.  So very proud of her making her own way. 

Thrilled that we can revive our shared birthday, minus the cafeteria cupcakes, and peek into each others’ lives again.

“He’s the one that missed out.”

I haven’t talked to Braiden about his dad in honestly probably a year and half?  Maybe more.  Other than a random thing about something they like in common and when he inherited his dad’s old G.I. Joes.  I used to try to but I really know nothing of his life the last couple years and not sure what were supposed to say about him.  His grandma asked if I’d told him about his dad’s marriage, besides my puzzled look I said no – “you have a new mommy, B!”.   What would I say about strangers?

I’m equally irritated with both the CW and now ABC for changing around their late night schedule – no Sex and the City reruns now no Scrubs reruns after Jimmy Kimmel.  What’s an insomniac to do?  Watch televangelists.  I often sit in a daze at the weird stuff that is broadcast on the couple of Christian channels we get.  Thinking of all the good movies, talk show premises, music options out there that could be used.  But a woman being interviewed really caught my attention as I was passing through.  She spoke of meeting her dad only once as an adult and realizing he was the one that missed out on knowing her, not the other way around.  A lot more good stuff but I think that is my starting point.

Sometimes I forget that the rejection doesn’t go away if we just don’t talk about it.  Hey, a mom can wish.

fresh air

I woke up today without the 50 pound weight on my heart.  Positive, hopeful, energized.  The mess is still there, still battling with making my current life work but something is different for today.  I’m going to enjoy it and be productive before the paralyzing self-doubt and weighty decisions come back.

Super psyched to have a new-to-me dresser, mine literally falling apart last week. Those little surprises are nice, especially ones that aren’t even on my goal list like the couch that will soon bite the dust.  My family insists I throw it away, but I can’t – I’d still love to reupholster it some day.  It’s been around since our first house, I can’t part with it totally.  I didn’t have a security blanket, but maybe this is mine.

I do, if you insist.

Rarely do I enjoy sorting the mail.  Two piles: bills or crap to throw away.  Was delighted to see some Target coupons, this time from Club Wedd.  A free gift card for signing up a registry, read the stipulations and decided why not – who am I to throw away something free?

After setting it up and getting my gun, I was off.  Time to pull out my list – I mean, I had to look the part and needed to have at least ten items!  Sixty items later I was cooking.

I’d forgotten the thrill of the gun, clearly I’d missed out by only baby registering at one place – a mistake I shan’t make again should I ever say “I do” for real.

I felt exhilaration as I scanned and pinged, editing as I went – “no, maybe the rubbed bronze…” AS IF IT MATTERED.  Considering the difficulty of combining households and hoping my husband to be would already have nicer stuff than me, making filling the holes that much easier.  Understanding briefly the nutty bride syndrome picking crap I’d never actually buy for myself or anyone else. Case in point: the ice cream maker.

The fun had to end.  While finishing up the last section, a worker offering to help me gave hearty congrats on my big day and proudly told me about her thirty-five year union – a rarity today indeed, Carol. 

Feel the shame of a farce, I took back my gun.  Then promptly collected my gift card.