Julie, Do Ya Love Me

sweep THIS!!!

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 01:56:00 +0000

I got a parking ticket yesterday. Reason: Street Sweeper.

Ummmm what?

I've lived in the same complex for almost 7 years now. People park on that side of the street, for days and days. There is no sign. There is no sweepers. Ok- wait, I HAVE seen sweepers, but there is no "No Parking on X day from Y to Z time for street cleaning." The sweeper will weave around and clean certain open parts of the curb. That whole block is extra parking for the people who live in my complex. So you know, Mr. Officer, you are going to have to suck a big dick on that one.

The comment: Saw sweeper come around

What the fuck?

I don't live in the backwoods where seeing a street sweeper vehicle is unheard of. So Mr Officer, you SAW a sweeper, and my car- and decided I was in violation of my car being in the same presence as a sweeper. Is that it? Is my Mini-Van not good enough to share the same BLOCK with a sweeper? Can you find more ways to fuck me up the ass? I mean, you had ALREADY written up a violation for my expired registration, which is really not expired, I just need a smog check, by the way. Hey, I won't argue THAT- but don't think I DON'T know how he giggled while he tucked the SECOND ticket under my windshield knowing that it (this completely bogus piece of shit violation) would completely fuck up my day.

However, I am a law abiding and/or consequence accepting citizen and I will deal with the registration/ smog check issue and or just pay the fine if my 'almost registered' status is not enough. No sweat.

The street sweeping violation, however, is bullshit.

Thanks for playing, dick!

no more goodbyes

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 17:23:00 +0000

Christine invited me to church with her, just about every week for the duration of our friendship. I used to joke with her, that if she loved her church so much, surely she wouldn't want to see it go up in flames like that? It didn't burst into flames that day, when I finally came to her church. She would have enjoyed the irony of the fact that in the end, she got me to go to her church.

It was a lovely ceremony. When I arrived I saw the 'guys' from my old office. The small sea of suits and the frames of the men I worked with for many years. The undeniable feeling of comfort overwhelmed me, if only for a moment. I walked in a few moments behind them and engaged in the gang bang of hugs- each one of them I squeezed tightly. Even the ones who I knew were not really 'huggers'. It's a funeral, standard rules don't apply.

I hung back a little bit waiting for Michael, who took on the job of dropping the kids off and when he didn't arrive minutes before the ceremony started, I went in and sat down next to an old friend who also came to pay his respects. I think that sitting mostly alone helped me keep it together. Had I been sitting with Michael, or even my girlfriends- the tears would have flown freely. Even sitting somewhat alone, I cried more tears than I thought I had left inside me. For the loss of my friend, and for her family.

Going over all the details will just rip me open again, but there were a lot of moments and things said about her that made me so proud to know her and to have been her friend. It makes me question, again, why she was ever friends with me. She had pretty high moral values and lived with a sense of family, faith, virtue and civic duty. What ever she saw to be friends with a self-indulgent slut like myself... is beyond me. However we shared a friendship that nobody ever questioned. She was somewhat of a balancing factor for me. Always playing the devil's advocate, even though she was ALWAYS on my side, even if I was wrong.

As I am thinking back on the years of our friendship, I see now- how she always looked out for me. She was always checking on me, making sure that I was ok. Always mothering me, in a way that was so subtle that I didn't even notice it. It's Saturday now, and I think that Thursday was a hard day for me. The funeral was over, and it is just time to get on with life. It goes on, for the rest of us. There is guilt that goes along with that. Should I not laugh? Should I not enjoy myself? I feel as if it's not right for me to smile yet, even though my logical brain tells me that this isn't the case.

By the way, I really hate when people say, "Christine wouldn't want you to (insert whatever sad emotion I'm having over her death here)" So please, stop saying it.

Maybe the anger phase isn't quite over, and I don't know if this is bargaining or not. That nagging feeling that she should not have had to die resonates with me. That feeling that it is SO fucking unfair. Nobody deserves to die, but I think that some people truly deserve to LIVE. There was so much talk of how Christians don't fear death and they should be joyful.... all that. I don't know. Maybe if I was religious, all of this would be easier to deal with.

Without that, I guess I'm somewhat lost in a sea of questions about morality and mortality. I don't have any joy about her death. Call me crazy.

I am grateful that she is not in pain anymore. She suffered in her last days. While I don't know that I buy the idea that she is in a "better place now" - she's not in this place where she was in pain. This place, where her brain was being consumed by cancer, which is a disease that in itself, makes me question the very existence of God.

Her mom told me, "You know Julie- nobody gets out of this world alive."

I think that is the only answer I'm going to get.

little moments

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 02:56:00 +0000

For as simple and fair skinned as she was, she really liked color. She had this bright blue suit that she'd sometimes wear to work. I mean, a ROYAL blue. And against her fair skin, it was quite striking. Sometimes she'd rock the red top and bright red lipstick. She pulled it off as if it was nothing at all.

Not a lot of women can pull off bright red lipstick on a work day. Even for me, it's a bit bold.

Today she wore a shiny peach color on her lips. She wore a high neck dress to cover her tumors. She looked... peaceful. Everyone says that when you go to a viewing. That they looked peaceful. Well, of course she did. She looked more alive in her death that she did the last day she was alive.

The minute you walk in the door or a mortuary you are hit with it. That scent that reminds me death. Actually it's flowers. Carnations. The overwhelming scent of fresh flowers. I walked up the stairs, following the sound of voices and coming around the corner to vaguely familiar faces. We didn't know each other, not formally. However I knew they were her friends from church and I was her friend from work.

I immediately saw her cousin, who was there with her that last night. She hugged me tight for we shared this. The whole time Christine and I knew each other, she talked often about this cousin, but we never met. No, we met at Christine's bedside, the night before she died. She hugged me for a long time. She was crying. I tried to keep it together and I had just walked in the room. People were looking and I felt immediately consious of this. She was leaving, and said she would see me tomorrow. "You know, we were the last ones to see her," she said. I nodded. Yes, I knew. "I can't believe she's gone."

"Me neither," I said to her. I squeezed her hand and we smiled. That knowing smile of support for we had shared something so special to each of us we probably wish we didn't have to share it with the other person.

With her cousin making her exit, I greeted her mom and dad. Her dad reached his hand out to me and I hugged him. Her parents are such warm and loving people. I had spent a few holidays with them. Her mom always welcomed me into there home. Turkey, cheesy greenbeans, the chocolate fountain. There was always a seat for me and my boys at her table.

She hugged me now and said the same, that she looks peaceful. "But Julie, it's not her. She's not here anymore. She's with the Lord now and that is just her body."

I started crying then. I think because I struggle with God and the ideas of Heaven and all, that I find less peace in that statement than some would. There is peace in knowing she is no longer in any pain. I looked around the room at the flowers and the collage of photographs.

Surreal. A whole collage of photos of my best friend. Many I had seen, some I hadn't. Picture of her climbing out of a paddle boat. In a pool with some snorkeling gear. Hooked up to a parasail. Line Dancing. Prom. So many pictures with her daughter. Photographs of her the way I remember her. I smiled, looking at each picture for a long time. Taking it in and appreciating that she had a full life with lots of fun experiences. She was daring, but you'd never really think so if you'd met her.

In the adjoining room to the left, was her casket. It was a shiny lilac color with a simply purple flower design embroidered in the lid. Her hands were crossed over her stomach. Her thin, frail hands. She always had pretty long fingers but she was never able to grow her nails. They were longer now and painted that same shiny peach as her lipstick.

I wanted to touch her, but I didn't. I wanted to stroke her face, but I didn't. She looked better than she had when I saw her last. That last night she looked sunken and sickly. Skin stretched over a skeleton. She was plagued with disease. Now she looked sleeping. Quiet. Almost as if she was going to open her eyes and say, "Stop your crying!!"

For what seemed like a long time I stared at her lifeless body. I was joined by another co-worker/ friend and we shared memories. We laughed and reminisced about her red lipstick. Her affinity for girly things like floral prints, dangly earrings, and her love for Disneyland. We stood together, looking at her body. I was grateful that she looked better than that last day that I rushed to her side, to say my goodbye to this woman who I will remember as one of my best friends.

I had approached her and taken her hand. I told her that I had to go but I would be back tomorrow. Maybe she wasn't sleeping, but was just so medicated that she couldn't be awake. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. It was all the energy should could pull together and she spoke. I could not understand her words, her voice was.... froggy. Yes, I know she was trying to tell me she wasn't scared. That I should not be scared. To take care of the boys. To check on her daughter. To travel. To trust. To love. To live my life. That she loved me. That she knew I loved her. I know she was telling me all those things in those few words that she was trying so hard to get out. I stroked her hands then, calming her, "Shhhh, it's ok. It's ok now. Rest. Shhhh...." I was overcome with tears as she closed her eyes and fell 'back to sleep'.

This is how we said goodbye. I had every intention of coming back the next day, but I think she knew. I think she was ready. While I will never forgive myself for not spending more time with her in her final months, I will always feel grateful for that moment.

She loved Disneyland

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 03:34:00 +0000

November 2007

Christine and the bug soup

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 02:55:00 +0000

I'm overwhelmed with emotions lately. I keep thinking of Christine and trying to piece together memories. The years of our friendship weaves together into flashes of time. For years, we had lunch together at least three times a week. We ran errands at lunch, paid our bills, did our banking, went shopping- sometimes we even ate lunch.

So many little memories...

There is a cafe that was in the next building that made amazing soups and salads. Christine really liked this soup. Chicken and Wild Rice. It was pretty good but I couldn't eat it because the wild rice always looked like bugs. The wild rice was also a little more firm, furthering my 'bug' theory. I used to laugh and tell her if there WERE bugs in there, you'd never know. She loved it, and every Thursday we'd go there and I'd get the jambalaya and she'd get the bug soup. Just yesterday I got some Tomato Florentine Soup at the cafeteria at work and there was rice in it. As I was ladeling the soup into my bowl, I said outloud, "ah... bug soup." I stopped and the memory came back to me... and I started to cry.

I can't put this together in my head. Maybe it's because I didn't see her getting sick. Maybe because before two weeks ago, in my mind she was still well. I didn't know she was so sick. Her mom told me that when she was diagnosed three years ago, the doctors gave her 2-5 years. I do remember her telling me that but I think that I just blocked that out. The first year, her treatments seemed to be working. The second year, she was getting thinner, but she still wasn't really 'sick'. She wasn't losing her hair, her tumors were not spreading any farther. Not until year three. It would have been three years this August. 2-5 years, they said. They were right.

Perhaps my view of how things happened are different than they really were. Clearly there were things she didn't want to tell me. Clearly she wanted me and all of her friends to remember her in her healthier days. I guess I can't argue with that logic.

She was a better friend to me than I was to her. When I look back at all the wonderful things she did for me and my family, more on that another time. I don't have the tissues for it right now.

Until the end she thought of the everyone elses feelings more than she thought of her own suffering. I will never forgive myself for not being there more for her in those last months.

But I know I am a better person for having known her at all.

goodbye, dear friend

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 04:54:00 +0000

I don't know how to write my feelings. I don't know how to express anything right now.

My friend, one of my best friends, has died and I feel that part of me has died with her.

It feel empty and sad and beside myself. I got a message on Tuesday night that she had taken a turn. This morning I got a call around 9AM with the news that she had passed this morning. I am grateful that I went to see her last night. I am grateful that I got to say goodbye. She knew I was there, and while I could not understand the final words she spoke to me, I know what she said.

I am mostly grateful for the friendship I was fortunate enough to share with her for the past 10 years.

As the days pass I know will talk more about it. I am flooded with memories of her and I just can't believe that she's gone.

what you're looking for...

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 07:12:00 +0000

here's some of the recent searches that have landed people on my blog:

"bondage dog"
"jizz"
"rite aid vibrators"
"when you die nothing happens"
"julie fucks my brains out"

and my favorite

"maybe I wasn't asking you to love me"

It don't matter if you're black or white

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 04:11:00 +0000

1958-2009

If you had asked me a week ago, I would not have thought much about it- but today I find myself sad and reminiscent... and lacking for words. I could probably post 25 of my favorite videos here.... but I won't. I'll just post this one, because it's still one of my favorite songs of all time.

Mow your lawn??

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 05:30:00 +0000

I'm not sure I've seen a heart shaped pattern before.

come on over...

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 14:23:00 +0000

I'm going to see him perform next week in LA.

Of all the songs from him, and Matchbox 20, I think this is really my favorite. It just feels good.

Thought I'd share it, in case you need a pick me up!!

local douchebags

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 00:28:00 +0000

Have you ever seen this site?

Hot Chicks with Douchebags

Cock-a-doodle-douche!

So now it's a TV show.

I couldn't figure out how to identify California guys. There's just something SO arrogant and dickish about a lot of them. NOT all of them,but some. I think this is why I find myself gravitating towards New Yorkers, or guys from anywhere else. There's just something different. So when I saw this show- I realized immediately what it is about a lot of the OC guys- they identify it right away.

You know that guy. That guy who thinks he's so fresh he actually CALLS himself 'fresh.' He spends more time on his hair than you do. He owns a flat iron. He's kind of a chick, but with a cock and an ego. He's a younger Ryan Secreast. He's OK looking, and would be hot if he wasn't such a fucking tool. The only reason you might fuck him is because he got you drunk and maybe that's the fastest way to shut his ass up! Maybe he's got a big dick, I mean, he keeps TELLING YOU how big it is, right?

He's the OC Bag.

totally

IDK, IDC and IDTS!!!!

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 01:01:00 +0000

I had an argument with my husband today. Why?

He keeps calling me.

*in my best Julia Roberts a la Pretty Woman voice*...Stop callin me!!!

If he's got something to say, like if something is really wrong. Did he fall? Is he bleeding? Do the kids need a cast??

No...

We need bread.

Really? For bread, you make a phone call??

Seriously dude. Text me.

I got him a Blackberry for FatherDay. I am paying an extra $30 a month for him to be able to reach my via text, Blackberry Messenger, and Yahoo Messenger. He can even email me.

Instead. He calls.

sigh....

Later I was at the store. Talking to my BFF on the phone. She is the only person I know who doesn't have a cell phone. Her daughters have cell phones, I have sent texts to her daughters to get fast messages to her. Messages that don't require a phone call. So he called again but I didn't pick up. I sent him a Blackberry Message asking him if we needed anything else at the store. (I can do that WHILE I talk on the phone) He never answered so I figured it was fine, I shopped and left.

When I left the store, I wrapped up my phone call and listened to his voice mail. "Hey we need milk."

WHAT????

So I loaded the groceries in my car, and I went BACK in. Not before I called him. "Why didn't you message me back?"

"What?? I didn't get your text."

"Ok, I didn't buy you this phone and pay for the service for you NOT to check your damn messages!!!"

He told me I was wiggin. I DO NOT WIG.

I was irritated and you know, we don't need to have a phone call for EVERYTHING. You can text me- I'd prefer that you text me.

"Are you kidding me? You're rather that I TEXT you?"

And while maybe my answer was ridiculous, I answered truthfully. "Yes."

I could hear him shaking his head.

whatever....

just. text. me.

Look, I'm not saying that I never want to talk on the phone. I mean, I LOVE to talk on the phone. However, if you CAN say it in 160 characters or less... why not do just that?

srsly. kthnksbi.

I'm on your side....

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 03:59:00 +0000

I know I will get killed for posting these pictures. Sorry girls.

When I was a Freshmen in HS, I met Carrie. She introduced me to Christie, and Abigail. Well, I think she introduced me to Christie. Definitely Abigail. This was Freshmen year and for the next three years the three of us were BFF's.
Sort of.

There's always a weird dynamic in girl groups. Rarely is everyone equally friendly with everyone else.

Carrie and me
Christie and me
Christie and Abigail
Carrie and Abigail

see what's missing??

Carrie and Christie
Abigail and Me

What came between us?
Hmm, what do you think???

It was more than that really- sometimes it was temperament, personality, and sometimes just jealousy. Who knows really- however it was always sort of there. Of course though, we all spent lots of time together. As many of the whole group as possible. The other three girls were in choir, and I used to go to EVERY choir concert to watch and support. We supported each other and we were there for each other and did the best we could to get along, for the sake of the group.

There were guys, and fights... and fights over guys.

Gossip, backstabbing... and crying.

By senior year, we had somewhat outgrown the friendship it seemed. Christie and I remained close but really the rest of the 4some had somewhat dismantled and gone separate ways. Maybe the reason I have so few memories of my senior year, is because I didn't share it with them. I remember once telling Carrie that she's just someone I used to be friends with. She told me that it was probably the most hurtful think I'd ever say to her. She's probably right.

After graduation, Carrie and I reconciled and have remained best friends. Christie and I faded off and on, more off than on- over the next 20 years. Abigail nobody really heard from until a few months ago. I think she and Carrie had a falling out of sorts a year after graduation.

Abigail and I have been corresponding via Facebook for the past few months I guess. It's been nice, really nice. 20 years and that relationship has come full circle and really I can't really remember the reason we didn't get along. I mean, other than fighting for Carrie's attention... oh yeah, and the one guy... dumb.

Looking back, it's all kind of foolish.

Abigail is going to be in town next week. We are going to get together. Get together with our kids, and then just us- hang out, have some drinks... Girl stuff. I really can't wait. It's so important for me to heal old wounds.

High school is a wound for all of us- that much I know. A reunion, of sorts, would be healing for all of us I think.

The 20 year reunion of our high school is coming up at the end of the summer. Abigail is going to be there, and I will be there too. Christie and Carrie are not coming. I wish they were. It would be great to get an updated picture. It would be great to know that the troubled water really IS under the bridge.

It would be great to embrace my friends. To laugh with them and be in that safe place. I don't know why these types of things are so important to me. Maybe I read too many books or watch too many movies- but I don't want the next time that the 4 of us are in the same place to be some tragedy. It's great for the movies, but nothing I want to really experience. Who knows, maybe it wasn't as important to the others as it was for me. Maybe the other girls just don't care or have lives that are so full that they don't need to revisit those days. Maybe it just meant more to me than it did to anyone else. I don't know.

I just wish... I wish that we could all be together. Not the high school reunion, the cliques and the prom with booze and blood pressure medication, but my friends.

The 4 of us.

Wow

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 14:24:00 +0000

Remember when I used to blog here?? Jeez- what a lasy ass I've been.

Alex is in North Carolina visiting his cousins. Gabe and Danny had thier kindergarten promotion on Wednesday. This was the third time Danny got the chance to sing with his friends. He did- one song. He sang and did the little hand motions. And he kinda cried. He's just not comfortable being in front of people.

Weird, and he's MY kid.

Gabriel is much more outgoing when it comes to things like this. Much more outgoing than Daniel, even if he is generally more sensitive.

But really, look how cute he is....

Ok- kid fawning aside. Not much else is going on. School is out today for the little ones, Alex's last day is Tuesday. Summer is here, although the weather would make you think otherwise. I hope it gets sunny soon, because swimming is the only thing I can take these kids to do that doesn't cost anything, lasts for HOURS, and they have a blast doing it. So bring it on sunshine. I don't work all day to have to TAKE my kids someplace to entertain them.

I'm going to teach Alex how to ride the bus this summer. If he wants to go to the mall, or go to the beach- I don't want to have to drive his ass everywhere. He can take the bus.

No- I didn't take the bus when I was his age, but I was admittedly lazy.

I know... I suck.

I'm off my game.

yeah, sure- that makes sense.

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 04:59:00 +0000

Abstinence Chart

I thought it was kind of funny, although I'm not sure that the cigar is about but I'm sure I can guess.

breakdown...

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 19:30:00 +0000

I seem to be having from some sort of breakdown or crisis and I didn't notice it until my boss called me to task yesterday. In a big way. I didn't get fired or anything, but it was just pointed out that my work has been subpar. I have unfinished projects. I'm behind on a lot of things. I didn't really have any good explanation for it.

When I got home last night I realized that the laundry was still piled up. Both clean and dirty laundry. It's been a three days since we've needed it and I seem to be just making quick trips to the grocery store to pick up what is needed for that day- but I haven't gone 'shopping'.

I have a 5 page paper due on Sunday that I have not looked at yet. I have a homework assignment due on Thursday.

I'm behind on my life.

Really, I don't care.

I am detached and indifferent and while I know I can't LET it happen, but part of me just doesn't CARE if all the pieces of my life crumble in front of me. Even acknowledging it, doesn't encourage me to change it. I find myself begrudgingly making lists t0 organize my life. Planning out the next 5 days in order to get my work done, my homework done, the laundry, the shopping, clean the house... blah blah blah.

The truth is, though, that I really don't care right now. I feel like I'm standing outside looking in- watching what is going on in this life as if it's not even mine. Not really caring too much what anyone has to say about it either. I don't want to spend a breath of energy on this tasks that don't seem to ADD anything to my life, but just make it possible for me to keep living it in the silently desperate state that I live it in.

I'll get back on the ball, because I know I have to. I'll spend a week playing catch up and then return to "life" as normal. I have no joy- I think that's my problem. I just want to focus on the things that make me laugh, and make me feel good- emotionally and physically. Not the things that I have to do in order to keep someone else in the miserable yet protected state he's in. I'm over it. I'm very much over my life, and even though it's supposed to change soon- I have my doubts.

It's time to go to work know... I'll set this to post later this afternoon, unless I change my mind or decide to snap out of it.

Lazy kitteh

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Fri, 29 May 2009 14:41:00 +0000

I swear you're not missing anything.

I'm so effing lazy lately with this blog. I just renewed the URL for another year. Did I waste $10 that I could have used on a dimebag? (kidding)

what the hell is going on in YOUR life???

not soon enough

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Mon, 25 May 2009 15:04:00 +0000

You know how people get pregnant, get engaged, get married, and die... in threes? I think the same happens with divorces.

Yet another friend of mine is getting divorced. sigh... all the good stuff happens to everyone else.

I know, I'm such a insufferable cunt. Can you blame me? Have you met me??

We've (read: I) decided that he's going to move out after the summer. August. Yes, I'm ready for this. So ready. We (read: I) decided this in March- before the break. I thought the break would help, but it didn't. It just made me want to make the break longer- or permanent. Yes, permanent sounds good.

I'm not sure why I am so damn stubborn. Why, for so long I was so insistent that we could make this pig fly. However, we've decided and discussed that we really took whatever semblance of a marriage and beat it to death. It's not just a dead horse, it's buried and the grass has grown over. It's time to move on.

SO TIME.

We get along, because that's what I do. I get along. I play nice. I've got it down to an art form. I have perfected 'playing nice' to an art form.

Tell me that you love me?
oh? Cool.
Tell me that you hate me?
oh? Cool.

Its hard going through life knowing that I failed at this. I know, I know... I didn't FAIL. But it feels like Fail. Major League Fail. Maybe the FAIL was staying so long. I'll never get these 10 years back. I don't know, maybe I don't want them. Perhaps in the fall I'll be a whole new Julie.

New and Improved.

Or not.

Hows this?

Thinner, Cynical and Jaded.

That sounds about right.

Does this treadmill make my ass look big??

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Sun, 24 May 2009 21:26:00 +0000

I've been going to the gym for a month or so now. I know that I'm supposed to go 5 times a week. I think I average about 4 times a week. I go for two days and take a day off. That seems to be my pattern and it works out just fine for me.

After 5 weeks, I am very close to 30 minutes of non-resistance cardio. The eliptical or stairmaster is still hard for me but the treadmill or the bike on a lower level is enough to get my heart rate going. Cardiacwise, I'm really unfit. Always have been. I'm not trying to crash diet or work out like a mad woman. I know me well enough to know that I won't keep THAT nonsense up. However, I'm slowly losing pounds and inches. SLOWLY... that's ok though.

I don't love working out. Not at all. I can't imagine ever getting to the point where I just can't wait to get to the gym. My head doesn't work that way. I do it cause I realize that my ass has reached epic proportions. I don't ever expect to get back down to my wedding size. That was too big for my liking, however at this point I would love to be THAT kind of fat.

Bondage dog?

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Sun, 24 May 2009 19:08:00 +0000

We had a dog show up on our patio yesterday. Gabriel identified it as our neighbors dog, and our neighbors were not home. It was a little Chihuahua and it was really cute. After keeping it on our patio, we realized he was getting a little chilly so we let him inside and gave him some food.

Yes, that is a bondage cuff around his neck. We needed to take him outside, and didn't have a leash. I just happened to have bondage cuff with tethers, so it worked out perfectly. I know, only ME right?? It worked pretty good though.

He was very sweet. Quiet, not to hyper but was a little playful at times. Mostly he just stayed close to me- which is strange considering that I'm not really a dog person.

I admit that he grew on me pretty quickly, and now I kinda want one. We've been talking about getting a dog. Mike wants one, but I want to make sure that we get one that I could/ would take care of in the event that he can't take it with him when he moves out. He thinks a dog would be good for his depression. Part of me thinks he might be right, but the other part of me doesn't want another mouth to feed.

So now I'm looking at Petfinder.com and weighing the pros and cons of getting a little dog. I don't want a yappy dog, or a dog that is too hyper. The kids get so riled up, I wonder if even a dog with a good temperament will get all out of control around my boys.

Like I have said, I'm not really an animal person. They are a big commitment, and often an expensive one. I never want to be in the position where I can't afford to care for it, if it get sick. I know I made a joke once about opting to put an animal down. I never WANT to have to make that decision, I am just aware that it's out there.

So I'm just not sure.

He sure was a cute dog though and I did love the attention.

lexapro? not again

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Sat, 23 May 2009 16:42:00 +0000

My relationship with mental health drugs has always been very kind of like/hate. There's never been a LOVE issue with them. I've never LOVED the way I feel on meds.

About 10 years ago I started getting chest pains. It would cause aches down my arms. My whole body would sort of ache and I would get restless and panic about it. My doctor would give me an ECG at least twice a year, since I have a family history of cardiac disease. After treating my husband, he figured out that I don't (yet) have cardiac problems.

He sent me to a psychologist and scripted me some Xanax. "You're not having a heart attack. No Julie, you're having anxiety attacks."

You think??

So I went to therapy for a while. On and off for years. Dr. O was my favorite. After Danny was born I saw a different one, Dr. N. Who encouraged me to do things for myself and keep my eye on my own goals, like finishing school. The last guy... I can't remember his name, he was more of a sounding board- but I saw him weekly and as I would talk, the 'answers' would sort of come to me, and he'd say, "ok... I'm following you."

I stopped seeing him when I got a new job in a new city. I haven't been to therapy since. When I went to work at the hospital, I also went back to Al-Anon, in place of therapy. That was ok for a while too.

I was on Xanax, as needed for many many years. At this point, as needed was starting to be 24/7. So I went to my new doctor and got my first script for something that was less dangerous than Xanax, which turned out to be Lexapro.

It wasn't bad. It helped a bit. After the first week of side effects, I was less apt to want to peel my skin off. The anxiety attacks became less frequent, but I still had the Xanax when I needed it. Maybe once or twice a week. At this same time, things in my life were changing so I think there were less things to be stressed out about. I stopped taking the lexapro when I couldn't afford it among other reasons. For as much as it helped, I never LIKED being on it. I always just felt a little LESS like me. Medication and therapy simply silenced me. It kept me from getting angry, and anger propels me. It encourages me to move forward. It inspires me to make decisions on my own behalf. Medications numb me a bit. It makes everything tolerable. Therapy helps me deal. AlAnon helped me stay.

What I need, is to go. So no therapy, no Lexapro.

However, today I'm going to refill my Xanax script. Just so I don't kill anyone, as needed.

The ABC's of me

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Sat, 23 May 2009 02:26:00 +0000

The ABC's of me. My SIL tagged me on Facebook but I would rather just blog here.

A - Age: 37

B - Bed size: Queen

C - Chore you hate: ALL

D - Dog's name: I don't have a dog.

E - Essential start your day item: Blackberry

F - Favorite color: Red

G - Gold or Silver: Gold

H - Height: 5'

I - Instruments you play(ed): I don't. booooo

J - Job title: Data Coordinator, Stroke Program

K - Kid(s): 4

L - Living arrangements: Husband and three boys

M - Moms name: Linda

N- Nick Names: Jules, Jewels.

O - Overnight hospital stay other than birth: Senior year, appendicitis

P - Pet Peeve: When I hurt mysl and someone says "Are you ok?" Of COURSE I'm not ok!!!

Q - Quote from a movie: Only in the morning!

R - Right or left handed:Right

S - Siblings: 3 sisters (1 + 2step) and 2 brothers

T - Time you wake up: 5AM

U- Underwear: always

V - Vegetables you dislike: carrots

W - Ways you run late: checking my email before work in the morning

X - X-rays you've had: lungs, and does a mammogram count?

Y - Yummy food you make: Apple crisp

Z - Zoo favorite: I can't remember the last time I went to a zoo....

ok wow- that was ridiculously boring...

Wait... what?

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Wed, 20 May 2009 03:12:00 +0000

Yesterday on the way home from swim practice and Alex said, "When I graduate from high school, I'm gonna go there."

Huh??

"The Armed Forces Recruiting place. I'm going to go there after graduation."

Wait... what??

I looked at him, probably with the same expression I had when he told me he swallowed a quarter. "You what?" Surely he misspoke.

"Yeah, I want to go into the Army after high school."

dead stare

"Didn't I ever tell you that?"

speak Julie. Say something. Anything. Someone hit me on the back of the head. Who is this kid? Military? Alex??

Lazy, half-ass, hyper, won't shut up, can't stop moving.... ALEX?

in the military.

I realize that I haven't spoken yet.

"No, you've never said anything about it before." Doesn't he know that there's a war going on? A war, that could conceivably be still ON in 4 years? I think this is the conversation that I silently and unknowingly feared ever since I heard the words, "It's a boy."

We talked a little more. I asked him why. Not in an offensive way, just curious. I was careful not to seem negative, or even nervous. But I was. Very much. I know what you're thinking- he's 14. He will change his mind. Next week he'll want to be a doctor, or a podiatrist, or a fucking PIRATE.

He's been thinking about it for a while now. Really?? I didn't know this. Why didn't I know this?

Here's the thing about Alex. He's NEVER told me I want to do this when I get older. He's never displayed any interest in a career, or a job, or what kind of car he wants. Sarah has been talking about being a doctor for a long time. (Of course NOW she wants to go to art school... in Canada.) Not Alex, I have talked to him for the past year or so about college, what he might want to do after high school, the classes I want him to take since they will benefit him when he goes on to college, etc. This was the first time he's ever talked back.

"I want to be like Uncle Rick," he said, "He has a good life. The respect of the people around him. He was part of something awesome. I want that."

Smiling, I reached out and touched his hand.

We talked a little bit more about it. What branch of the service he might be interested in. Maybe the Marines, maybe the army. I suggested he research his options and that he talk to his Uncle Rick. He asked me if his flat feet were going to keep him from the military. I admit, I had always been a bit relieved back when I thought that it would and I never mentioned to Alex that Rick advised me that it doesn't anymore. I never really thought that Alex would want to be a soldier, but I admit I was somewhat hesitant to put that information out there, just in case.

It was out there now.

I cannot deny that is scares me. However, I cannot utter a harsh word about his decision. I have always been a strong supporter of the armed forces. My brother is a hero, not only to myself but to my family. I could never say that the military is ok for the sons of others, but not for me. No, I don't believe that.

I remember how much it hurt when my brother left for basic. I remember it so vividly. I was a year older than Alex is right now. I also remember running through the crowd the day he graduated basic, and jumping to him and hugging him so tight, because I was so very proud.

No, I could never be against it if he wants to do that. I could never even consider talking him out of it, even now in these early stages when I probably could talk him out of it. Maybe he will change his mind, there's an amazing change he will- however it won't be because of me.

Sunday with my Google Reader

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Sun, 17 May 2009 17:48:00 +0000

Expect this to be NSFW:

I started using my google reader so that I don't miss the writings of my friends. I don't just read blogs... I have friends who WRITE blogs. As a good friend, I want to read what they have written, even though most likely we've already talked about it. Some are just people I know from their blogs, or twitter.

Anyway... so this Sunday morning I am sitting on my patio- somewhat away from noise inside the house and I'm sort of pretending not to hear that the boys are being too loud and Mike is probably going to wake up angry because he is supposed to be going somewhere this morning- and he's sleeping through the phone call- and will most likely miss the opportunity to go. Not my problem.

So lets see whats in my Google reader today.

A follow up on Richard and Amy, a married couple who live a 24/7 BDSM lifestyle. They interest me. I could never be anyone submissive all the time. I don't have that kind of discipline.

A fantastic sex blogger already is starting a new site Beyond the Birds and the Bees which will be "online resource where people can share accounts of conversations between parents and children on the topic of sexuality." This should be a great site and I hope to be able to participate in it.

Another married D/s couple who I know and love. I would like him to take my picture someday.

A little bit of Butch, Bez, and Business Humor.

Fleshbot and JaymeWaxman who really is as cool in real life as she appears to be on her website. I'm kinda Fangirl about her- and I hope to see her again this year and talk to her a little bit more.

Jezebel (which I have often thought to change my sexblogger persona name to). Which is a great website with great links to great stories. Also... I suspect it's run by the same company that runs

Fleshbot.

Largehearted Boy- AKA, a very LARGE musis website of music I don't know- but I probably should. If you are a music lover, you will probably like this site. I always like the links to the Try it Before you Buy it's

Michelle Obama on Huffington Post- cause you know she needs her own page. Seriously, how much do we love her???

Britni- cause she is just all kinds of Hot Mess (in a good way).

Radical Vixen- one of the THREE amazing chicks I know who use the title Vixen- and I love her blog. I've been reading it for years.

(incidentally- I think they all think I'm pretty swell too.)

Steff- who is a cool chick who speaks her mind, and blogs about a lot of things, sex just being one of them.

That's what I did this morning. That isn't all who is in my reader, but I went through many last night before I went to bed. But that is what is there now.

And now.... my reader is clean, and empty.

Dan Savage, The Price of Admission

juliedoyaloveme@gmail.com (Julie) — Sat, 16 May 2009 05:01:00 +0000

I have been listening to Dan Savage again lately. He's great when I'm sitting on the exercise bike and while his advice is smart and straight forward- he simply makes me laugh too.

There is no settling down, without some settling for. A-men.