As I sit alone, drinking, and waiting on some girlfriends to arrive:

  • I told D tonight, after breaking the news that our friend has stage 4, inoperable, pancreatic cancer: I’m so glad I got my ovaries removed. I don’t care that I look older and fatter as long as I get to spend every possible moment with you and the kids.
  • He whole heartedly agrees.
  • He’s making an appointment for a physical tomorrow. No more fucking around. I can’t live without him.
  • We’re going to increase our life insurance too.
  • I have my yearly appointment with my oncologist tomorrow afternoon, and I just feel all fucked up about it now. What if, what if, what if?
  • Pins and fucking needles.
  • It feels like my employee who is leaving has started to phone it in a bit, and that sucks. Not even because I care about the work shit. I just thought we were cooler than that. And I guess it feels like I’m going to miss her, but she’s not going to miss me. So I guess my feelings are hurt.
  • I feel like I need to touch base with hard ass Jenn. I’ve gotten so fucking soft.
  • But…fuck that. Life is short. I’m happy now, and happy Jenn is softer. That’s just the way it is.
  • Don’t sweat the small stuff.

truthful tuesday part 2

  • It took three glasses of Prosecco for me to come down tonight.
  • I’m keeping a work related secret for a while, but the gist is that I’m like 95% sure I’m losing a fantastic employee. I’m sad, but also happy for her.
  • I’m thinking that maybe this change will be good. We could use a big shake up. I’m going to take the lemons and make lemonade.
  • I’m not going to see much of a certain person this month and I’m not mad about it. Take all the vacation days. Take a permanent vacation. *shrugs*
  • The Orville. I’m into it. Who knew?
  • The joint pain kept me up a lot last night. And when it wasn’t the pain it was the night sweats. I’m exhausted and kind of salty about all of it. This shit is just so unfair, like fuck, dude. Haven’t I dealt with enough bullshit? This shit combined with work shit has me out of sorts. I’m hoping a weekend away with D is going to set me right.
  • Fucking and drinking and laughing the pain away.


I don’t have many of them, honestly. I’m a bit of an open book, though there is definitely stuff I keep off the blog. Mostly my feelings about the people who may be reading it. Haha. But I wouldn’t necessarily call those secrets. I’m pretty open about all that stuff with my IRL people. There’s a difference between discretion and secrecy.

I do have something that happened last night that I want to write about here, but I’m going to wait, and maybe I won’t write about it at all. At least not publicly. I’m still trying to figure out how to handle this particular situation. To be clear, this is a good thing, and I’m happy about it, but it’s also a tiny bit complicated because someone else’s feelings are involved. Someone with whom I already have a strained relationship.

So I guess I do kind of have a secret after all.

mama drama

My mom is begging me to come to her house for Thanksgiving this year, and I don’t know how to tell her no. There are a bunch of completely valid reasons why I cannot and will not go to her house for Thanksgiving. I hate knowing it’s going to hurt her feelings. I’ve invited her to my house the last few years, but she’s adamant it be at her place. I have even offered to do all the driving, since she keeps telling me she doesn’t have a car.

A brief list of the reasons why I’m not going:

  • My understanding is that her current boyfriend is manipulative and abusive. She lives with him. He has taken over our conversations before when I call and tries to manipulate me into doing what he wants/doesn’t let her talk, etc. Fuck that. I’m not supporting that situation by going to his house and pretending like I actually like and/or approve of this relationship. Nope.
  • His house is absolutely awful, like derelict, and maybe should be condemned.
  • It’s in the middle of nowhere about two hours from my house.
  • I’d have to board my dog on fucking Thanksgiving because I can’t take him with us.
  • D and I don’t have our kids on Thanksgiving this year, so we’re planning to hang just us two and do our thing. We want to be chill. Nothing about going to my mom’s will be chill.

To be honest, we are just not that close and it feels like a big ask. I know it probably isn’t, but it feels like it to me, and I just don’t want to waste anymore of my time pretending like we are a big happy family when we just aren’t.

August blog challenge: day 7

Truthful Tuesday –

My favorite thing about my New York Times app subscription is the daily mini crossword.

I love my kids very much, but holy fuck I’m looking forward to a night alone with the husband tonight.

I love my cat very much, but I love my dog more, because he obviously loves me more, and I’m addicted to feeling loved.

The week in the cabin has me obsessed with the idea of upgrading from a queen to a king sized bed. My insomnia often has me tossing and turning most of the night, and I enjoyed how much more room I had to do so.

I give the impression that I have my life together, but I am, in fact, a bit of a mess. I need to be more organized and on top of shit. In fact, I really need to take a mini staycation to just organize my life.

The first half of this year was really kind of terrible for me, but I feel like I’m about to put all that behind me now. At the same time, I’m worried that if I think everything is about to get better, it will actually get worse.

My self-esteem is in the toilet. Every day some weird little thing happens that reminds me that I’m getting older, and while I’m grateful for the privilege, I’m also not ready to be invisible in the way that so many older women seem to be. I probably never will be. This has been particularly difficult to deal with recently due to my hysterectomy and oophorectomy.

On the flip side, the beauty of getting older is that I find myself giving way fewer fucks about so many things that used to cause a lot of anxiety. It is very liberating to see how so much of what people say and do is just utter fucking nonsense that I don’t need to concern myself with any longer.

a few truths

  1. I set up a joint Instagram account for the kids, which I manage, because they begged me for an account where they could post pics of the pets. I told them the rules, one of which is: I can follow you, but you cannot follow me. Lol.
  2. Speaking of social media, I’ve been hate following a blog for a few years now, and lately it has been an epic trainwreck that I just can’t look away from. It’s almost like a reality tv show. It’s a guilty pleasure of mine.
  3. I have no idea wtf I’m doing, and I’m not sure how I’ve managed to convince so many people that I do. In reality: i feel like i’m drowning.


The ex and I told Jackson about Gracie. That went about as well as you’d imagine. He’s heartbroken…obviously.

So tomorrow afternoon it’s happening. I’m seriously sad. I’m also annoyed that the ex’s gf is insisting on being there. I mean…really?? So I guess I get to ugly cry in front of her. Even my ex is like yeah I wish she wasn’t coming. Ugh…catch a fucking hint. She’s not your dog. She was never your dog. She’s never going to be your dog. This is hard enough without adding her into the mix. I don’t have anything against her, but she’s going to make an awful situation extremely awkward. Fuck.

Can you tell I’m in a bad mood?

Oh and I’m pretty sure I have a raging sinus infection, but I’m too sick and tired and sad to do anything about it right now.

Maybe tomorrow.