When I don’t write here for a few days, it’s not always because my real life has taken over. Sometimes it’s because life isn’t going all that well here in Chez Bluesleepy, and I haven’t got anything to say that isn’t a whine fest. I realize that this is my blog and my place to do that, but I don’t want to be one of those people. Besides, what I have to kvetch about isn’t for public consumption anyhow. Just know that I’m in a difficult place right now, and I’m trying to power through the best I can.
In other news, I am slowly accumulating various gifts. I have managed to acquire my sister’s, my husband’s, and my father’s gifts today alone. Not only that, I also picked up a gift for ME and some cute little stocking stuffers. I don’t think ME is going to get too much; she’s only 15 months old, and all she really wants to do is rip the wrapping paper off. I can let her open my gifts if it comes to that. Plus she never plays with her toys; it’s always Grace’s that interest her more.
I did help a lady in Walmart today. She was perusing the dolls, trying to find the right one for the Angel tree, where you buy a new gift for a child who might not get anything else this Christmas. She had picked a two-year-old girl, but couldn’t decide which doll would be best. We agreed that this one doll that laughed as you pressed its belly was the cutest, and it was rated for ages 1 and up — perfect! I might have to go back and get one for ME. I didn’t get it tonight because she has already four or five dolls, and Kurt will probably think one more is too much. But it’s the one thing she really does love. Grace never did get into dolls until she figured out how to role play, but ME is happiest when she’s got some sort of doll clutched in her hands as she toddles around the house.
Man, that girl can move now! I’m so surprised to see how fast she can walk now. She’s very nearly to the running stage, except most of the time she loses her balance because she’s leaning forward to gain more speed. It’s actually kind of funny and so hard not to laugh when she splats on the pavement. Fortunately she’s rarely hurt, so giggling at her isn’t as hard-hearted as it sounds. Besides, a little gentle teasing builds character!
In other news, I’ve seen a few people from my past crop up in my life, which is, to say the least, odd. I talked to an old high school friend on Facebook last night, telling him probably far more crap than I should have, which brought all that back up from where I had buried it so long ago. Then today I left a comment on something that same friend posted on Facebook, and lo and behold, my boyfriend from high school saw fit to post a comment right underneath mine. Good gravy. Of all the people I wish had stayed buried in my past, he would make the #1 spot. Nothing good would ever come of our reconnecting, so I’m hoping if I just ignore him, he’ll go away.
I’ll keep my fingers crossed. It is odd, though. I haven’t talked to him or even heard about him in nearly twelve years. He sort of fell off the face of the planet after we graduated high school, but here he is, cropping up again. We dated for twenty-two months, though, an absolute eternity when you’re in high school. It didn’t end well, at all, and pretty much spoiled my senior year.
That seems to be my M.O., to have rotten senior years. First high school, then college. Maybe I should go to grad school and break that pattern. I know I would kick some serious ass in graduate school, and I’m far more mature than I was then. I know when to keep my mouth shut a lot better now, that’s for sure. There are those that would disagree with me, but I really do think about what I say before I say it, and I do my best to keep my remarks to polite ones.
I have to say, it’s hard for me to conceive of being thirty years of age. I have no visible marks of aging, though I’ve seen women younger than me who are visibly lined already. I guess staying pudgy and keeping out of the sun is doing my skin a world of good. That, and I don’t feel any older than I did back in high school, yet when I think that I graduated over twelve years ago, it’s mind-boggling. I’m not sixteen still? Where did all that time go? I’ve nearly doubled my age since then, and it’s just such a hard concept to grasp. I don’t feel any older, I don’t look any older. It’s just… odd. Does this feeling go away, or will I always be shocked by how old I’ve gotten so quickly? My mom told me a few years ago, when she was in her early 50s, that she’s still surprised by her age, and that she usually still feels like she’s in her early 20s — until her body physically reminds her she’s not as young as she used to be.
Maybe one day I’ll feel like a real grown-up, and not a fake. Ah, who am I kidding? I don’t want to grow up!
PS — That book that I was struggling with and trying to decide whether I should give up or not? I finally gave up at page 206, halfway through, and left it at my mother-in-law’s house. *dusts hands*