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Off The Beaten Path
July 31, 2009 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
If you frequent this site, you know I wasn’t having the best day Monday. I wish I could say the feeling has gone away (it hasn’t), but it’s funny how people are watching you when you don’t think they are.
I like to be invisible. I’m an introvert by nature. This is not to say I’m not sociable. If the situation calls for it, I talk. I’m not a hermit. But my preference is to blend into the walls. My husband is no different. In fact, he’s worse than me which is weird because he’s the oldest of eight children. Our anniversary wasn’t exactly filled with the kind of monetary cushion we’d prefer to have a good time. In situations such as this – especially those involving money – I have a breakdown. I don’t like to be without. It sends me to a dark place. BFam has more experience in this field because, well, eight children. You do the math.
In spite of my meltdown, my cantankerous, reclusive husband was formulating a plan in his head unbeknownst to me. A plan involving fun on a budget. I won’t go into too much details because on top of being reclusive, he is private and I respect that. But I will say it was a moment where I was glad to say I have him in my life. Time and again that man keeps me from completely losing my mind, and I don’t know if he knows it. It is because of this uncanny ability he has, I am forced to come out of my darkness and be still with him. And I’m typically not a mushy person, so this is big for me to say (anyone who knows me personally will second that motion).
So here’s to moments unexpected, and remembering there is life to be had off the beaten path.
Nine
Who are these crazy kids? I wish I could go back twelve and a half years and ask them what they were thinking. I may be one part of this equation, but I honestly don’t remember. Whoever said “time flies” must have seen it leave on a jet plane.
BFam and I have been together twelve and half years. As of Tuesday, nine of them were shared in wedded union. I don’t say wedded “bliss” because any married person will tell you that’s an oxymoron. And that has nothing to do with your significant other refusing to pick up his dirty socks, or putting down the toilet seat, or snoring and farting in his sleep. To live your life with someone – 24 hours a day, seven days a week – there is no bliss. I don’t care who they are. There is time spent together, and time served should you kill them. That’s it.
I can honestly say, since meeting him at thirteen then finding him again at nineteen, I have been with him my entire adult life. That is scary. Scarier than deciding to have children. We have seen each other through our absolute worst times. We are determined to see each other through our best. And just like the theme of the total span of our relationship, it will be in shades of hell or high water. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
To my partner in crime, baby daddy and BFF… thank you.
FEAR No. 036 – Over My Head
July 27, 2009 by NaysWay · 3 Comments
You ever feel like the world is crashing in on top of you?
Ever stand in the middle of your circumstances, dazed and bewildered, wondering just how on Earth you got there?
Ever look back on where you are and have no clue on what to do next?
If you answered “yes” to any of those questions, welcome to my world. Better yet, welcome to my head. I’m quite perplexed by everything right now, and it’s causing me a stress I’ve seen before but hoped I’d never have to relive again.
iPlay: Kings of Leon
July 24, 2009 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
I feel like I’m missing music in my 30′s. I guess it should be expected. Muzak is where old people go to die. While I refuse to go down the Muzak path, I am somehow missing what’s good or fresh these days. I often wondered when, in adulthood, you officially stopped being aware of cool music. Or when was the exact cut-off age for your kids to tell you not to sing along to their favorite song on the radio because you were “embarrassing”. I’m 31. Just yesterday, I told BFam I’d be 33 on my next birthday. Even I don’t know how old I am. What do the young kids like nowadays? All that darn hippety-hop sounds the same.
Ugh. I’m old.
But wait! What is this? I think I may have scored cool points. I like these guys. These Kings of Leon. Ever heard of them? Someone has. They were certified platinum as of yesterday. Join me in the anti-getting-old movement, won’t you?
Kings of Leon – Official Site
Kings of Leon – Last FM
Kings of Leon – imeem
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FEAR Feature: So You Think You Can Dance (SYTYCD)
July 23, 2009 by NaysWay · 2 Comments
Tonight marks the 100th episode of a show I’ve only recently become obsessed with. Now, before you say it, yes. I know I’m four seasons behind. I know this. I was one of the people moaning and groaning about it causing so much of an uproar in Fall TV scheduling since this will mark the typically reserved-for-Summer show’s first time airing for a full 2009-10 season. This show uprooted all my others: Glee, Dollhouse, Fringe, Lie To Me. While I’m running off the list, let me double-back in retrospect: I am watching a TON of TV on FOX, all of a sudden. When did that happen?! Anyway…
So I didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. I’ve been watching Dancing With The Stars (DWTS) since its inception. Each year, I am more and more disappointed with 1) the “star” selection, and 2) the voting process. Fans at home, dialing in for these votes, really are morons. I mean that in the most loving way, but how long did it take before Master P was voted off? MASTER-FRICKIN’-MAKE ‘EM SAY UUUGGGHH-P, people. I had more fun watching Peter Boyle in Young Frankenstein dance than watching this idiot. At least then I knew it was supposed to be funny. You know. On PURPOSE. I swear voters only kept him on to frustrate the judges. I was almost made a believer again with the season of Kristi Yamaguchi because that broad can do no wrong for me. And she won which was so necessary. I don’t know if you saw it that season but the girl KILLED IT, please understand. But then, oh then, all hopes were shattered with the installment of Cloris Leachman last season. Oye. That’s all I gotta say. Oh, and meshugenah! And I’m not even Jewish but I was easily verklempt with that display of buffoonery. I respect my elders, but shouldn’t they respect me back?
This year, I vowed not to watch anyone dancing. Television has made a mockery of a timeless art form, one I held in high regard to the legends of Gregory Hines, Sammy Davis, Jr., Twyla Tharp, Bob Fosse, Debbie Allen and all the other greats. You know, REAL dancers. People I could only dream to be. And if it weren’t for bad luck and God’s infinite funny bone, I would not have given birth to a child who lives, breathes and eats dancing with music for dessert. But I did, and I am thereby punished to sit through any dancing, singing programming of her choosing. Because these gyrations must not be witnessed alone. They can only be shared with a friend… or a parent bound to you by law. Frik.
Since DWTS is banned, I turn to SYTYCD. I am safe in knowing I won’t be attacked by buffoonery or idiot D-listers, but professional kids actually trying to make this their life’s work. And make it, do they ever?! Have you seen this show? The acrobatics? The limber jumping and athleticism? This show… it causes my child fits. She must get up and roll on the floor, and Plié, and bounce, and jump up high, then fall to the floor, then do a split, then arch her back and spin violently. Is she having a seizure? No. She’s DANCING! Since the show can run, at maximum, two hours, I let her watch the first hour before bed, then fall asleep to the second hour under her covers. Last night, we watched the first hour together, and I paused the second hour so I could watch it after I laid everyone down for the evening. This one performance at the end of that second hour not only made this my new favorite dance show and obsession, but made me forgive its upheaval of my regular season schedule in the Fall…
Sobbing, do you hear me? With the noise, and the drool, and the hiccups, and the snotty nose, and the bath towel. That’s right. The UGLY cry. Fan. For. Life. I even forgive them Mary Murphy, and that is hard. So very, very hard.
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