Insert Year End Summary Here

This is supposed to be where my year end summary would go, and if I'd had a remarkable enough year to warrant such a thing I would gladly post it. This year was, in many ways an exercise in futility, in lows and lower lows [yes, I'm being melodramatic] in loss and betrayal...looks like it has all the makings of a romance novel or after school special.

To be fair good things did happen this year: the Wog publishing his book, Goose starting grade one and Roo finishing her potty training [okay, that one was for me] and Hiddleston did give us the brilliant Henry IV and V this summer [also for me].

But we did have to [try] sell our house, lose all our savings and scale back so much that we couldn't function without help from our families, and the Wog did lose out on three truly brilliant jobs that would have turned everything around. Topping the year off with a big ol' blah, we still haven't heard from the consolidation folks so it seems we're just where we started.

The holidays have been lack luster at best, with Goose spending Christmas Eve hunched over the toilet and Roo hacking like a two pack a day smoker...good times all around.

I'm trying to stay positive as we move into the new year; I keep thinking it has to get better because it can't get any worse. People say that to us a lot; 'It will get better'...is that what people say when they don't know what else to say?  Do they really mean, 'I'm glad it's you and not us'? Not that I blame them, some days I wouldn't want to be us either.

Happy New Year to anyone who took the time to read this and any of my other [never-ending] rants. All the best to you and yours this holiday season.

The Road Goes Ever On and On...

Well surprise, surprise...the tidal wave of lack I was expecting hit, and yet here I am [and here you are].
Perhaps it will just be my lot in life to keep keeping on [thank you NKOTB] no matter what, perhaps because I've never taken loosing well, and perhaps because I firmly believe, that nobody can ever, EVER, successfully tell me what to do.

I dusted myself [or wrung out my clothes if we're keeping the tidal wave metaphor going], got up and applied for a consolidated loan...it felt awful, laying all our debts out there for strangers to pour over, but the Wog and I did it and I'm terribly proud of him. We're still waiting to hear from the money lending folks, but maybe, just maybe the Lack will remove its claws from us and we'll be able to move forward. Maybe.
It's terrifically hard to keep hoping, pining for something I don't know will happen. Bullheadedness I've got in spades, but I've never done well with uncertainty. The unknown and uncontrolled terrify me...

So I focus on the trivial, the mundane...and yes, I often focus on Hiddleston [and no, he is most certainly not being lumped in with the trivial or mundane]. But he is achingly lovely and somehow focusing on him alleviates the pressure I can feel bubbling up inside me. I can't explain it, and I won't. He's lovely.

Replace Klonopin with Beer and Get...This

I'm beginning to realise that I should have subtitled this blog, 'I'm ranting again, just wait, I'll stop shortly' because, let's face it, that seems to be what I do. If this were a proper Mommy blog it would be full of sunshine and kittens and breastfeeding, and if I were younger it would include a myriad of sexual innuendo and mildly profane remarks about the Divine Mr Hiddleston and anyone else of note.
But this poor blog is neither of those things...that's why I named it what I did. It's everything and nothing and all over the place, with no rhyme or reason. Just like me. And I loves it, Precious.

This is where I should get all philosophical and talk about what the Lack has taught me about the true meaning of life. This is where I should submit myself to a public flogging because I once bought my husband a one hundred and eighty dollar t-shirt. I know I should, but I can't and won't. The Lack sucks. I'm sure it doesn't just suck for me, it sucks for alot of people. But this is my blog and not the world stage.

I love my life. I love books and plays, movies and my kids [in no particular order]. I love beer and sex and looking at pictures of Mr Hiddleston like some starry-eyed fifteen year old. What I don't like is loosing my house, my car and everything that sews the fabric of my life together. I don't like where I am right now. I hate it.
Tomorrow is the day the Lack will become a tidal wave and drown me, us. I've ducked and weaved and wheeled and dealed...I've even borrowed and stolen. But as of tomorrow none of it will matter...because of the way the dates fall my beautiful monstrosity of pick up sticks will crash and be washed away.

Yes, the melodrama is flowing...I've replace the klonopin with beer for the evening...feel free to disregard.

It's Roux' birthday in less than two weeks; she'll be three and it's all she can talk about. I feel like the worst Momma in the world because I know I won't be able to live up to the party she has planned in her head. Yes, before you point out that she's only three I will clarify: I don't even have the money to invite the family over for cake and chips...that's how badly the Lack has become. I can't find money to buy gas or groceries, how on earth can I find it for balloons?  Yes, I'm a thrifty person, so yes she has gifts [mostly second hand, but cute and clean] I started buying them months ago [hey, Christmas is only a few weeks away].  But still...it hurts, you know?

It hurts a lot.