It has come to my attention, deservedly, that I am biased in my writings about how life has been lately.  Yes, I have tried to be true to my feelings in this blog, put all my whining and complaining here because I can’t voice it to anyone in my personal life.  Here, I can write and pour my heart out, and not involve family in friends, and not keep crap bottled up inside.  Yet, I owe my daughter’s dad an apology.  Despite my own personal unhappiness, I have failed to acknowledge the fact that my daughter has an awesome dad, who loves her very much. He has always provided for her financially and emotionally, and showered her with love.  I think that is part of what makes things so hard.  We have this beautiful baby girl, a miracle baby, that he loves so very much.  He wanted a little girl forever, and he really is a good dad.  I know that any decisions he is making, she is a part of.  I can’t imagine the pain he feels on his end.  I know it sucks for him to not be a part of her everyday life.  He does his best to be here for her during the week while I am at work, and makes the most of that time that he can.  my daughter loves her daddy very much, and that means a lot.  She loves seeing pictures of her daddy on my screen saver.  I feel that’s part of why I have been such a freaking train wreck.  I know that any decision I make needs to resolve around her.  Maybe I have been unfair… It’s a lot easier for people to voice their anger and disappointment, than to take the time to acknowledge the good that people do.

During our time together, he tried to do the best to make life as perfect for me as possible.  I think a major frustration is that it was a goal impossible to reach.  He is  man of a different generation, a stronger, harder generation… and it was a losing battle for him to try and instill those values in my son and daughter. He and I came from a time when you got a job early in high school, where the things you bought, you worked for.  Money just didn’t get handed over, cleaning house and doing yard work were expected when you were part of a family.

I enforced my childrens lack of responsibility at home.  My children spent many years in an environment where the adult was incapable of demonstrating what it means to keep a house clean and maintained.  He would let the toilet and tub turn black with mold and mildew, and food filled pots and ans pile in the house until the odor would be overwhelming.  For many years after I first left my husband, I would pick up the kids from school, and then clean his house while I watched them after school.  When my daughter would be ill, or stay the weekend at my house, her dad would just let the dishes pile in the kitchen, because that was her chore.  I would feel so guilty when I would see that, especially when I knew she wasn’t feeling well, that I would clean up the mess.  When their dad was sick and let puke splatter on the bathroom walls and cabinet doors, I was the one who scrubbed the dried crud.  I kept up me efforts to maintain a sanitary environment at their dads house until my youngest son became able to crawl, and I couldn’t feel safe letting him on the floor.  It was shortly after this point that the kids moved in with me full time anyways.  When my children were with me, I let my guilt over leaving them with an alcoholic parent turn me into an overly indulgent, gotta make up for my ex-husbands meanness with being overly permissive and giving.  I have done that ever since I left their dad.  I also let my childhood, the abuse I suffered, get in the way of objective parenting of my children.  In addition to this, I overcompensated for my daughter at times, and let her illness become all consuming of  my time.  I know that addressing her illness was important, but I shouldn’t have let it cause me to neglect my relationship with my partner.

When Bill would try and instill responsibility and a work ethic in the kids, and they would come whining to me about being misunderstood, whatever, I let my fear of conflict get in the way of what he was trying to do with them.  I wanted him to be like me, praising every little effort they made, and he wanted me to be more like him, and be consistent with expecting responsible behavior.  I let this become a cycle which turned into anger and frustration between me and him. I should have stepped up and been a better partner and parent, but I let myself get overwhelmed and just gave up.  For this, I apologize.  He deserved better, deserved to have more support, more acknowledgment of how much I loved and appreciated him.  My children deserved better, they deserved a mom who was more involved, prepared them better for real life, and was less wishy washy.  I am still trying to figure out how to be a better mom, and my two older children are now adults.

So, why aren’t I saying this to him in person?  I try, but I cry too much and don’t make a lot of sense.  I get defensive and desperate.  Need to get over that someday.  I still want out relationship to work out, I still would do anything for that to happen.  I know I may have ruined those chances.  You cannot take back the past, you can only move forward.  I am not perfect, neither of us are.  We have both made mistakes.  I still believe however, that we are the very best people to parent our daughter.  No one will ever love her as much as we do, and I still feel that is something worth fighting for.

My step-mother has been in the hospital a couple of weeks now.  On March 27th, I stopped by ICU to see her (I was on my way to UCSF to see my daughter aftger her surgery), give my two cents worth to her nurses, and brought a collage for her to keep in her room to show off her grandchildren.

My relationship with my step-mom is strange, in a way.  I only lived with her and my dad about 2 1/2 years.  Her theory is that my dad married her just to increase his chances of getting custody of me from my grandmother.  I was seven years old when I moved in with them, and he left her when I was 9 1/2.  I had little contact with her until I went into foster care at 12 1/2, and resumed contact with bother her and my mom.  Over the years, I kept in contact with my step-mom with letters, and later visits.  I am not her flesh and blood, but i am the only child she has.  I am also the only living relative she has this side on Kentucky.  I have always felt conflicting emotions when with her… I feel an obligation as I know I am the only one she has to really count on here.  However, it is hard to spend time with her, her years of being an only child and then living alone for 30 years with only dogs for companions has left her with a petulant, almost childlike personality.  However, no matter how we came together, family is family, and my children are her grandchildren.  Although we only get out to see her a few times a year, each visit means the world to her.

This is the collage I brought to the hospital.  Sadly, her eyesight is so poor she can’t really see what I have brought, so I pointed out who the various people were so she could tell her friends and care staff.  The picture with her holding the baby is from 7 years ago, when K was born.

Family is Everything

Now, we all know that children hate to share.  One of the things they hate to share most is you.  They are jealous of every moment of your time, every asset they perceive to belong to you, of your home and their space.  When you are in a relationship, this becomes readily apparent, as any single parent knows.  And, as anyone who has attempted to cobble together a blended family, it becomes a real nightmare.  Today I saw something new… Today I experienced how a toddler reacts when their parents attempt to renew a relationship.  As I posted last night, I have a real need for emotional support, a real need to just have a little time with my ex as we sort things out, as I try and determine what lies ahead.  God bless him, he tried today.  I sat down on the couch and just dissolved into his lap for a few precious moments of unwinding and tears, only to be attacked by a troll who didn’t like what was going on.

Now, I understand where she is coming from.  The usual routine is that I walk in the door, Dad (or whoever is watching her) walks out, and she becomes the center of attention.  She gets to nurse and cuddle before I move on to the tasks ahead.  Today however, that routine was shifted, and she was pissed.  I tried to nurse her, give her time to transition. She would nurse a bit, then wander off, but as soon as Dad and I relaxed again, she would be climbing back on us, butting in like a baby goat.  After clambering on top of us, she cried and tried to kick us apart.  Doesn’t do much for the adult emotional connection, and it hurt that she is starting to see what was our family unit becoming a threat to how she perceives her life should be.  I always knew that if I dated again, this would probably be the reaction, I never anticipated it would happen just trying to be with her dad.

I think maybe I should have waited, nursed her first, let her get bored and wander off before I addressed sitting with her dad.  However, I knew he was tired, and I only had a little bit of time to try and squeeze in with him before he would be walking out the door.  It is difficult when you don’t know from one day to the next what the day will bring, and today I really needed to be held.  It helped, and hopefully this weekend I will be able to spend some time with him, and our baby too, so we can work on rebuilding our emotional and family connection.  Hopefully, someday our time together is happy again.

So Happy Together...

This week, I returned to my job. Not my everyday, raising children, trying to keep the house from being absolutely disgusting and all the pets fed and alive for another day job.. but my real, income producing, thought required job. I am , and guess I always will be, a graphic designer. So, it was back to my local print shop that I went this week, back to deadlines, clueless customers and my bosses, who I have known forever. It feels good to be working again, pay cut notwithstanding. It feels good to provide a positive example for my children, and it feels good to get out of the house.

This week will also mark a new stage for Rachels dad. For the near future, he will be her caretaker during the day. This means he will watch her when I am at work, basically from 9 till 3, until the older kids get home, and maybe 9 to noon on Fridays, on the weekends when he heads out of town. It works out, hopefully my daughter will get a little extra income, and for my son, I will show my appreciation with stuff like movie tickets. For Rachel, it means she gets to see her dad about 30 – 35 hours a week, which is a lot more than some kids get. Probably more time than she has spent with him in the past six months, because I won’t be here for her to cling to. Today was the first real day I was gone, and her sister watched her most of the day. Aside from a multitude of poopy diapers, it all went well.

This Sunday, Bill, Rachel and I tried to go out to dinner, so he could see the baby after being out of town for the weekend. I didn’t handle it very gracefully. I wanted to go, but then again I was uncomfortable. Being unsure of my role made me very short, and snippy, and confused about how I should behave. It felt weird because we went to the one restaurant that has always seemed like a date restaurant for us, and it was memory and emotion laden for me. So what did I do? Shut down, when i should hav ebeen engaging in every moment. I have to learn to just appreciate the time he spends with me as a friend, rein in my emotions and just be grateful that we are able to attempt to make something of our relationship/friendship and our family. Because I was not very nice, IMHO, I have invited him out this weekend if he is in town (yea, it hurts to say that, I don’t want him to be out of town), but anyways, if he is around (crossing my fingers, damn it, I miss the S.O.B.), I want to try again, show that I can be mature and play nice, and not just be a pouty, jealous bitch. If I can’t get myself under control, I do not stand a snowballs chance in hell of getting my family back together again.

Since Bill moved out, we have made some changes. I have two little monkeys sleepin’ in my bed now. I moved my 7 year old into my room, and now he and Rachel are both going to sleep at a normal time, and Rachel is even going to bed without me being in bed with her. She is also sleeping the whole night though, not getting woken up, and then wanting to nurse. This has been a godsend, as I have been getting up earlier lately, trying to complete a rush job for work. Other plans in the works are downsizing the pet department. Since our poor Max died, my daughters boyfriend has suggested she take Mickey, my chihuahua. He really likes the dog, Mickey would make a great apartment pet, and my daughters cat really needs to find a home with more room. I also have decided to sell Charlie, my Schitz Tzu. He is a sweet, good natured dog, but he needs supervision during the day in order to stay inside, and with me not here, he can’t get it. So, he is relegated to being an outside dog, and the breed is just not well suited to that, He gets dirty, and matted, and is a bitch to get clean. It also is just not in the single mom budget to keep him groomed. My son and his girlfriend plan to take Casey, our Pit Mix, when they move out this summer. So, that will leave me with just our rat Melma and hermit crabs Eww and Scabby. I probably should have done this a long time ago, the dogs were just another wedge that widened the split in the relationship between Bill and me. Again, too little, too late.

So, a lot going on. Adjusting to work, adjusting to work, appreciating the calmness, wondering how to keep that calmness if I ever get my relationship back together. Maintaining hope… it’s not easy, but I so want to raise my daughter with her father, not just become yet another set of alternating parents.

We all know and love classic blog memes such as “Not Me Monday” and “Wordless Wednesday.”  These awesome memes belong to some of the most talented mom bloggers I read and have taken on a life of their own.  I was driving home from the Children’s Hospital in San Francisco Tuesday night, about 11:45, and I decided I needed to clear my mind of all the crap that was going through my mind, and all the mistakes I had made that week.  So this is why I am taking Tuesday’s to say goodbye to all the residue of the week before.  I think we all have negativity that we need to air, I know for sure I am not perfect and I make mistakes, but I do not want them to cloud the rest of my week, I want to move forward and think positively, with a head and heart free of clutter.

As I drove home Tuesday, I had a good two hours to hash out my week.  I had a lot of guilt.  Guilt because I feel like I have hurt Troll Baby’s dad deeply, and I never wanted to.  Guilt because I wouldn’t let my daughter come watch the Super Bowl because we were keeping the house low key.  Guilt because I hadn’t had my seven year old home in a week, because with all the conflict and tension, he was better off not staying in his own home.  Guilt about the frustration I felt the day my son called for a ride home from school because his knees were hurting, and he needed to stretch them out and ice them.  Of course, the big picture is, my son chose to stop smoking medical marijuana for his pain, and we don’t have a pain management plan in place, so he is hurting.  Wednesday morning, I look at his progress report and he is doing awesome.  I am so proud of him, it’s the big picture that counts.  There was a lot of guilt this week for opening my mouth without thinking first.  I had guilt about making my daughter cry when she called me saying UCSF wanted her to go to the hospital that night.  I wasn’t frustrated with her, it was overwhelming exhaustion after a long emotional conversation with Troll Baby’s dad mixed with concern about her,  and should she take my car, or should I drive her topped with “What am I supposed to do with the baby?” until I was able to take a deep breath and call her back, having worked out the logistics.

Besides guilt this week, I had a lot of anger.  I spent probably the first half of the drive planning retribution against our local hospital, for just ignoring her condition and letting it get to the point where I was driving 4 hours round trip in the middle of the night.  Anger at the ER doctor who sent her home the Friday of a 3 day weekend, with a distended gallbladder, high white blood cell count and a diagnosed UTI.  A doctor who did not take the time to read the ultrasound report, who chose not to administer antibiotics while she was in the ER, and sent her home without a prescription.  Anger when she has to return to the ER the following week because she still is symptomatic with abdominal pain and nausea, and the ER doc says they have no GI docs on call, and that she should just call San Francisco because there wasn’t a GI doctor in town that would touch her.  I also had a lot of anger about how events are tearing my family apart, and I just didn’t have anywhere to channel that anger, so I just had to bottle it up.

Last week, I had a lot of poor parenting days.  In addition to abandoning my son to his dads for the week, I was frazzled and couldn’t seem to accomplish anything.  Troll Baby ran out of pajamas, and instead of doing laundry I put her to bed in tights and a t-shirt for 3 nights.  Its not that what she wore to bed was dirty or didn’t work, because she was warm and comfy and it really did look cute.  It was that there was no reason my child should not have her pajamas washed for bed.  I also just now realized that since my little guy was gone all week, no one bought him valentine’s to pass out at the party.  He is sitting here assuring me that it didn’t matter, that everyone got plenty of valentine’s, and he has a special girl he asked to be his valentine.  I guess that the big picture is, his valentine party at school was still pretty good.  It just sucks that I missed out on helping make it more special.

So this is my new meme, Goodbye Doozie Tuesday.  All this is behind me, the slate is washed clean, I accept that I am allowed to be imperfect, and tomorrow is a new day.

FYI – I am bleepin tired, so my Mr. Linky will have to be set up next week , in case anyone else wants to clear their slate.

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I am a writer, writing my life as it happens.  My mode of writing is this blog.  It is real life, written as it happens.  When you write, this is called transparency – in other words you aren’t hiding behind a shield of made up bull, pretending life is all perfect, or exaggerating how bad it is – you just write it as it happens.  Bloggers must walk a fine line when it comes to documenting reality, because it isn’t just your life you are putting out there.  Every day has meaning, every day I have interactions with family members and friends.  These interactions are what shape me, they are the highs and lows that find their way onto these pages.  I try my best to remember to use code names so that I am not exposing my subjects to the scrutiny of the general public.  I think I do a pretty good job.  However, when you write about your personal life, those who are involved can decode your writing and see clearly when they are your chosen material.  One blogger that inspires me is writing about how she was a closet alcoholic – the perfect mom and wife on the outside, dieng to get that first drink of the day on the inside.  She is living out her acknowledgement of her alcoholism, and her daily battle to fight the disease, at http://theextraordinaryordinary.blogspot.com/.   I hope I can tell my story with the openness and dignity with which she is telling hers.

This week has been full of ups and downs.  The ups have been helping my son buy his first truck, and enjoying having him become more involved with school and with me.  Another exciting plus was a good visit with my daughter’s GI surgeon, and finding out that it is a go to have the final surgery to get rid of her ileostomy. The downs are the continued weirdness of a relationship that is no more, but has the main characters continuing to co-habitate.  It is hard to try and maintain a daily routine, when my mind is all a jumble.  It is also hard to keep an even keel with my attitude, when everyone is angry and resentful, as much as we all try and fake it to get by.  I find that every day the thin veneer I have coated myself in is growing thinner, and it is harder to not be angry at nothing.

In between the ups and downs are the just plain “awkwards.”  Last weekend, I took Troll Baby to see her aunties and cousins at her cousins first birthday party.  Her dad had other plans and was unable to attend.  Half the people at the party (who are all family of Troll Baby’s dad)  have no idea that we are no longer together.  To avoid awkwardness, the aunts and I just pretended.  The people I hadn’t met, they introduced me to as his girlfriend.  I guess that is better than be introduced as “B’s” Baby Mama.  When people asked why he didn’t come, I just bit my tongue and mumbled an excuse.  I was glad I went, Troll Baby had fun and so did my seven year old, and Troll Baby’s aunties made me feel like I am still family.  And yet, it was awkward.

This weekend, Troll Baby’s dad is recovering from a voluntary procedure.  This leaves me in the role of caregiver, and as a friend I am happy to do it.  Yet, it sets my teeth on edge.  Why do it now, weeks before you move out?  Just so you have someone to take care of you?  Then I think, “Are you retarded Michelle?  Of course he wouldn’t think like that, he’s a guy, he just didn’t think.”  So for the past two weekends, he has gone off to enjoy himself, and this weekend I get to take care of him, and next weekend is Valentine’s and I am just trying desperately to think of somewhere to take the little kids so I can pretend I am not a single mom whose life currently sucks.

So next Sunday, weather willing, I think I will find a beach.  Not sure what beach, just a beach where a single mom can go and hear her kids laughter, hoping it drowns out the sound of failure that rings in her head.  If I get lucky, maybe those beautiful children will heal a little piece of my heart while they are at it.

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• A blog post as scattered as my brain is today. (aseeofgreen.wordpress.com)

I started this post on the tenth of January.  I have struggled with whether I should write about this path my life is taking.  I don’t want to hurt anyone in my family, I don’t want to hurt the father of my child.  However, to quote someone near and still dear to me, “It is what it is.”

I started off 2010 newly single.  It’s not a good thing, it’s not a bad thing.  It is what it is.  Being a writer, my blog is my voice, my go-to for venting.  I try not to talk about it too much in a really personal way, because I am still figuring it all out, analyzing, projecting, planning and regretting, all at once.  I write because other families, other moms and dads, they are going through, or have gone though, the same pain being experienced by my family.  Maybe what I write, besides being some sort of self-therapy, will help other people experiencing the same type of challenges we are facing.

February 13, 2008 I found out I was pregnant with Troll Baby.  That news kinda killed Valentine’s Day that year, her father and I being in a state of shock.  She wasn’t supposed to be possible, and at first I think we were both in a state of denial.  However, we did our best to build a family over the next couple of years.  In the end though, all the love in the world for Troll Baby wasn’t enough to make us a family.  This Valentine’s, I will again be saying, “WTF… What do I do now?”

We already are asking those questions, all that fun stuff like visitation and money.  I hate it.  There are some things I won’t compromise on, that people don’t understand.  I won’t force my baby to wean herself before she is ready.  To be fair, I am encouraging her, trying to get her to take her cup more, trying to get her used to the alternative.  That being said, I will not force her to give up the comfort of nursing, especially with all the disruption coming her way at such a tender age.

March 1st I will be living alone, once again just my children and myself.  I feel like we are losing so much, there was potential that I just let slip away.  Hopefully I have learned something, hopefully I will be good at the single mommy thing.  I am lucky, Troll Baby’s dad loves her so much, he is trying to do the right thing to make sure she is taken care of.  I may be losing a man, but I gained a beautiful daughter, I met a couple of wonderful women who I consider sisters and my daughter has a wonderful extended family.  Her dad is not the bad guy, and I am trying hard to stay busy, stay positive, but as he moves on I am finding it more difficult to be happy for him.

The day he leaves will be both painful and a relief.  Painful because I failed my daughter, I failed to provide her father with the love he was looking for.  It will be painful to finally have that reality of loss slap me in the face; some days I go about my day, shopping and cooking and almost ignoring the fact that I am not in a relationship anymore.  Then the weekend comes, and I am alone, and I remember.  March 1st will be like the beginning of a never ending weekend.  When he leaves, there will be some sense of relief.  It will be easier to be happy without the constant reminder of loss and failure.  It will be easier to be sad, I can let down the walls and cry whenever I want.

So, as I enter this new again journey of single parenthood, I hope the people I love forgive me for writing. If you can’t, I understand.  I hope if it hurts to much, you choose not to read rather than let my writing come between us.

It’s funny really.  Moms are tough.  I mean, think about it… We go through ten months of gestation, experiencing leg cramps, sleepless nights, incessant peeing, hemorrhoids, varicose veins, barfing, heartburn, constipation, searing pain in our sides from our uterus expanding, an awkward sense of balance and countless other untold physical discomforts just to squeeze something the size of a large grapefruit out of a hole the size of a nickel (or in my case, an incision about the length of a dollar bill).  We handle all this with a minimum of bitching and whining… it’s all worth it for the end result, the golden ticket, the warm, soft, cuddly bundle of love.

And then, you get a cold.  You know the one… Your sinuses are so full of pressure that it feels as if your eyeballs are going to be pushed right out of your sockets, yet your nose is running so fast you have to sleep with a tissue on the pillow under your nose to catch the constant drip.  During the day, it takes every ounce of energy you can summon to get any work accomplished, let alone keep up a stream of interactive and enthusiastic parenting with the aforementioned bundle of love.  This is especially true when the bundle of love is 17 months old and is a non-stop bundle of toddler energy!  This week, I am getting a real reminder of what it’s like to do this sick thing as a single mom.  See, Troll Babys dad and I are no longer in a relationship, just platonic co-habitation until he gets a place, and co-parenting for life.  Yesterday, he was out of town, so Troll Baby and I were on our own.  It’s difficult to feel like you are really doing a good job parenting when you can barely drag your ass off the couch.  Luckily, Troll Baby is a good sport, and finds it to be a lot of fun using me as her helpless victim.

Special Kisses for Mom

There are many sites on the internet where you can turn to find advice on family and parenting. These Family Articles cover all aspects of home and family life and are easy to use, offering a wide variety of information. Writers from varied backgrounds provide well written articles on topics such as discipline, family crafts and time saving tips. Quickly find new ways to stay involved with your family and fresh ideas for quality family time. New content is added daily, and the site offers advanced search functions, an RSS feed, and Twitter and Facebook connections. With today’s busy schedules, being able to have expert family advice a click away is priceless.

So today my son kindly asked that I stop writing about him. I decided that he’s right, I have enough crap of my own to write about that I will cut him a break for a while!  Besides, I always have K-Dog and Troll Baby to give me more material.  K has been pretty lucky so far, at seven he doesn’t provide much drama.  However, I think I will focus a little more on him, who he is as a person, and bring him to life in my writing.  Troll Baby = Spitfire = Anecdotes out the ass…

So, if the last decade life has focused on DoozieMom the mom, what does the next decade hold?  What makes my life interesting enough to write about if my older son will no longer let me exploit him at leisure?  Well, I get I will have to become more introspective.  I get to go into that big, scary world of single parenthood again.  As we all know, that always provides plenty of material.  I guess I am the only Single Mom in the Central Valley willing to put it all out there, so I will be chronicling my journey at Examiner.com as a local columnist.  I have to post a profile picture and everything, so I guess I will be heading over to Great Clips or SuperCuts and getting a new haircut that screams, “Hello, I am a successful single mom!”  I may even get my nails done and buy a new mascara.  Watch out!

So, the last decade carried enough stress that I am surprised they didn’t remove my colon when they took my daughter’s, and I could have almost thrown myself in front of a truck (instead, my son kinda wandered in front f one).  However, I survived, I am in one piece, and I live on to face another decade.  The decade of my forties… Yea kids, I know I already have a two year head start on that, but cut me a break.  My dear ex-husband sent the kids all the old pictures from when we were married, and damn, I looked hella old back then, in my late twenties.  I don’t know if it was the god-awful pink stirrup pants, the “I am dressing in my mother-in-law’s hand me downs look,” or just the transparency of a woman trapped in a body that wasn’t a true reflection of who she was.  I wasn’t that fat woman in the ugly glasses.  I was the girl with the long hair, contacts and cute jeans.. What the hell happened to me?

Well, starting in 2010, I am going to find out.  Yea, I am a mom.  A single mom.  For another 17 years I am raising children.  HOWEVER, I am more than that.  I am writing, I am Marilyn Manson and Green Day.  I am art galleries and Cosmopolitans.  I am a good micro-brew and a long novel.  I am Team Jacob (yea, I know Edward wins.. whatever).  I am a graphic artist, a wanna-be entrepreneur.  I am the Central Valley, I want to be the coast.  Bankruptcy looms in my future, and so does potty training.  This does not define me.  After I pick up the financial pieces, after I work my ass off to better life for me and for my kids, it’s time to reassess, to plan, and to build on vision.

Will I date again?  Maybe, someday (not something I can really even contemplate right now).  Right now I need to just get my life figured out, immerse myself in positive people, make friends again.  I need to get a routine, sleep, eat better.  I need to find those who share common interests to enjoy a social life with, get out of the house once in a while.  This may mean I have to shave my legs more often – This is a sacrifice I am willing to make.  I plan to walk my dog, it will be a benefit to us both to get out there, get some fresh air and socialize.  I may even drag K off the video games and get him out there too.  I told my boyfriend when we spoke of parting that I planned to become a recluse, but I guess that’s not really the case.  Yea, I do plan to curl up with some good books, maybe a glass of Petite Syrah and a bubble bath once in a while.  However, I think that recluse doesn’t really describe things, I think the next part of my life will be described as discovery.