MIXBAG OF MUSINGS

Click here for mood music Just found out my company will be closing up within the month. When it rains it pours, don't it? I suppose it's just as well. One of those blessings in disguise people talk about. My job had become stagnant and there was no room to grow. This is probably the push I needed to find something else. And hopefully closer to home. The problem is that I know I won't be able to find anything that pays as well as this job does, which is the main reason why I haven't left yet, and I have a hard time covering my current expenses already. But I have a few weeks before I'm on the street. Hopefully I'll be able to find something worthwhile before then. So I'm going home tonight to work on my resume (I hate dealing with that damned thing!). I'll have to concentrate on tightening up expenses even more. I'd be feeling a little bit more optimistic about things if my car wasn't at the shop right now getting a $500 brake job...

It was at 10:32 AM, five years ago today. After some agonizing moments (for her and for everybody near her!) Cindy was finally enjoying the effects of her epidural. She was all smiles. She pushed the baby out during only her second set of contractions. I was barely hanging in there, convinced something would go wrong at the last second. Our friend was filming the entire thing. You wouldn't believe the look on my face. The strain was such that afterwards we noticed my belly button had popped out. I didn't think much of it at the time, but when my doctor saw it six months later he discovered an umbilical hernia. Go figure. I've attributed it to sympathy pains. We had picked her name out beforehand, we just needed to make sure she was a girl. She was a tiny little thing, weighing in at just under 5 pounds. As they cleaned her up, I gaped at her disbelievingly. I had pictured our baby as a perfect creature. A gorgeous little cherub with porcelain features; with fair skin ...

Click here for mood music Well past the main road, over dozens of moss covered stone walls and ascending the mountain, I climbed eagerly on horseback, emulating the moves and moods suggested by countless western films. I felt like a cowboy, there alone in the barren fields of Boyaca, where the depth of green horizons lay forever distant in the faded mountain range beyond us. Crossing the large adobe portals with cracked and fallen clay tiles, rich with the wear of time and downtrodden by the careless weight of abandonment, I sensed a calm alike no other. We stepped cautiously through the creek, my horse and I, carefully placing her shoeless hooves on the shiny stones that were visible through the clear cascading water. Once past it, we stopped briefly for a drink. I ventured into the open field I'd sought, slowly building up to a full gallop. My hat blew off and hung to my throat by its cord, snapping my head back uncomfortably. I always wondered how the real cow hands ma...

When I began this blog I had clear objectives: practice my writing, dig into my memory for tales from the past to tell, and receive objective criticism. Ever since the fall of my marriage, those objectives have been forgotten. I never meant to display my emotions in such a raw fashion, exposing my naked heart for all to see. But it was satisfying. It was enjoyable. I don't tend to speak so extensively of my personal affairs in person, so getting sympathy from fellow bloggers was a new thing, and very pleasant. It became a crutch, in fact, and encouraged me to keep spilling my guts out in a desperate (and pathetic!) attempt to squeeze out some more sympathy. But when I went back and read what I wrote, well, it bored me to tears. I mean, who gives a shit? If you want to hear about this kind of stuff, there are plenty of soap operas to pick from. And I'm sure they make my puny little problems seem insignificant by comparison. The main problem I have with what I've b...

Well, it wasn't easy. But I managed to race to daycare after work, haul Christina off to the hair salon for a quick haircut, run home to take out the dogs, feed us, bathe Christina and dress her up, drive out to the mall through holiday traffic, park a mile away from where we needed to be, and stand in line for 45 minutes to get her picture taken with Santa. Pheeew! In the end I was happiest with these three pictures I took of her myself with my digital camera. I posted the $24 portrait they sold me on my photolog, accessible through the sidebar. Merry Christmas, everybody!!! I'm thinking Audrey Hepburn when she was five? Asking Santa for...everything!!! Gotta love this guy!!!

Click here for mood music Three years before I saw the outside of my mother's belly, my parents were busily taking dozens of pictures of my oldest sister. I've seen the albums and the stacks of loose photos that never got sorted out, browning away in old shoeboxes. A year later, my brother came around and they took several pictures of him too. Very photogenic kids they were. There's a ton of pictures to prove it. Me, I was the third one. They were obviously burnt out on the whole photo thing by then, because I only recall seeing one baby picture of myself. Oh well. They had their hands full at that point, so who can blame them. But then five years later, when all the kids were already out of their diapers and pretty much fending for themselves, my youngest sister was born. A beautiful little girl who's look was in itself a natural portrait pose. For her, my Dad went so far as to actually purchasing a photograph developing and printing machine. There were hundred...

Click here for mood music I met my lawyer yesterday. A lovely woman. Made me think, why couldn't I have married a lawyer, instead of a waitress? What was I thinking? Of course, the smartass answer comes shooting right back at me: because when you divorced her she'd beat the shit out of you in court! Anyway, we spoke at length about my situation (over an hour), and she cleared up some things for me. Primarily, and this is the most disturbing part, she made it seem as though I'm doing it all wrong. I'm falling behind, letting Cindy get away with too many things, endangering my daughter's wellbeing, and risking losing it all. Scare tactics. Obviously, she wants to sell me her services. What better way to have me sign up than to make me believe I'm sinking in an ever deepening pit. But it's not that simple. If I had the kind of money she's asking for just sitting around, I'd hand it over to her and proceed with the court filing. I don't ...