Sugared Harpy

Cookies
Cakes
Cupcakes

I can’t imagine where he gets it…LINDY.

A harpy is born.

“Raymond says that he’ll shoot himself if I don’t marry him. I say, ‘Well. Shoot yourself!’ but of course he doesn’t – they never do…”

~Melymbrosia, Virginia Woolf

Someone has asked a valid question:

“Sista! Where have you been and what can you tell us about it?”

INDEED.

I have been working, at home, reading your blogs (and uh, rarely commenting, sorry), and going to therapy.

Hells yes, I found a good therapist finally. Some of her first words to me were, “I’m just as fucked up as everyone else!” Ahhhh, the fit of someone unpretentious and excruciatingly normal is good for me. I can’t handle some pompous ass telling me what to do. My therapist, J we’ll call her, is not interested in telling me what to do but is there to faciliate what I need and want. And to enable me to find out what I need and want in the first place.

If anyone wants her info, just drop me a line. J is wonderful and oh my god helpful.

So, I’ve been in therapy. I’ve also been working, honing this craft of teaching college students.

Most of my classes I adore. I can’t wait to go, the students are great and the subject is MY thing, my passion. I am teaching a new literature course this semester I am adoring, because I’m an art historian you see and not a lit person but an art historian is a historian and we are READERS, man. This course looks at why the West (a whole other discussion on what is considered “West” and why is included in the course) we think the way we do, why we value what we do. It begins with primary source readings from the Ancient Near East and goes to the Enlightenment. The readings are appropriate and interesting, the students are talking, I’m loving it.

Another course is the bane of my existence. It’s an 8am class, so it’s already doomed. But it’s a weird collective survey course of ALL art forms. The visual arts, theatre, music, dance, literature. What the ever loving hell? It’s fun enough to make them understand that Baroque art is not Baroque music or that there are links between the stage and Baroque art…but it’s overwhelming and it’s 8am. They are not interested in the least. I usually get students to perk up around the Greek studies sections, but no. The class is awkward at best, I’m not at my usual fabulousness because of it, and they are tired and SILENT. Utterly silent and not really present inside those heads. It’s difficult for all of us. I don’t blame them, but ouch.

The good news is that it’s being eliminated next year. Thank god. It frees me up to teach something where I’m more useful and on my game and it saves another class from this too-broad course that would better serve students by just taking the history of art, OR the history of music, OR the history of dance, etc.

I have been busy taking the birth control pill. Because I am not getting pregnant. The transition was hard at first, but I was totally freaking out anyway and this feels better. In addition, my situation could not be any further from favorable for desiring another child. I wanted a baby with Mike, not just any ol’ baby, and since that’s not happening, I’m off the baby-desiring train. I’m on Loestrin FE and so far, so good. I’m me still, not a raging bitch (ha! I don’t think anyway! Where are you going??), I’m not suffering with any side effects except for more tender and slightly fuller breasts. Mmmm, fuller breasts.

I’m learning how to talk to Mike and he’s learning how to talk to me. We are not even close to being okay with how we speak to each other but we’re doing the best we can because of these little boys. He is seeing them about twice a week, taking them overnight and is still a parent. Because he is a parent to them and as long as he chooses that, I’m going to encourage it. They love him as a parent and have for most of their lives. I’m not going to take that away from them.

Speaking of children, Daniel is already loving and hating this new school. I mean, he ADORES this school but his lazy butt still forgets his homework in his locker. At this rate, he may not even pass. I’m at a complete loss but be sure, he’s on lockdown while I figure it out. How to lift up a kid while making them buckle down? Brett is fine, growing like a weed and tearing into the pantry like a ravenous beast, but overall he is adjusting well.

My cat died. I’m still not okay. I loved him so very much. His ashes are ready at the vet, but I’m not ready to pick them up. The woman who called me for them said to take all the time I need and I’m grateful for it. The staff there have been so kind, everyone could learn a few lessons from these amazing, caring people.

I’m finally decorating this new house. I bought the Blik ovals (see post below) and they are mucho sexy in my bedroom. I can’t wait to uh, hang a picture or two on the walls. Lame, lazy ass over here.

As for the rest of my life? Private. I need that privacy right now even as I want to talk, talk, talk about it. I can’t. I don’t feel comfortable and I’m not sure when I will. It’s the juicy parts, to be sure, that I just can’t bring myself to ever discuss to publicly.

Because well, some things just aren’t public fodder.

Fascinating coming from a woman who just told you about my tender breasts, isn’t it?

Hi. Um, oy.

A post? For you?

About my ohcocoaheavenmygodwallstickiescanimakesweetlovetoyou Blik cocoa removable wall decals*?

Gorgeous.

This is not my wall. I am busy licking MY walls.

Buy some. They take no time at all to put up and they look like you spent time working on a decorative paint job or something. And did not really have your twelve year old design the look, even though my lordy he did a great job.

The boys are getting SPACE INVADERS and monochromatic bird silhouette restickables now. I could convince no one to get the giant robots. But, space invaders!

DUDE.

*Found at Urban Outfitters for $20. Only available in red now, I apparenly nabbed the last cocoa set. No shipping on any order with the code MYCITY01. Shudder.

I updated the site’s design, sort of. I’m not finished.

Because Nero, the kitten I bottle-fed from infancy, the one who slept in my arms every night, the one who was perfectly fine all night, suddenly fell paralyzed and in severe pain. A heart condition, undiagnosed.

I had to put him to sleep at 2am this morning.

I loved that little guy so, so very much.