high five to all the pretty bitches

High five to my pretty bitch, Dawnie, friend of 30 years. We met when I was twelve and I had to spend my every middle school day at the local high school athletic facilities.

We laid out by my pool yesterday and puttered around the house together like we were 12 and 16 again. (I'm the younger one). The Dawns have held up pretty well so far. High five pretty bitch! Hive five to all the woman who manage to take care of themselves with great care while balancing their pretty bitch selves in this topsy turvy world! Here's to having.....Brains and Braun (we're steam cleaning the patio ourselves) and Body (same bathing suit, and we didn't buy it together or do it on purpose) and Beauty and only Bitchy to those who need a bitch in their lives. ;)

:)

HIGH FIVE PRETTY BITCHES:

sometimes you can't make it on your own

Blogs and bloggers are so egocentric. I don't know if I like that yet or not . A blog is basically a little soap opera, or a novela, or a platform where voyeurs and soul mates meet up. I'm on the fence right now with this online blogging business. My real journal misses me. My middle finger has no callous (insert metaphorical middle finger). On pretty paper with favorite pen, is where the real fun takes place. I have manifested every dream I've ever dreamt up on those pages. I used to keep an illustrated discovery journal. If a picture or idea caught my eye, I'd cut it out and I'd glue it in this journal.  In today's world, we call that Pinterest. I just joined and I absolutely love it. But right when I really start loving it, then I start hating it again, and not wanting all this progress. I want the world to be simpler. Scissors, glue, and a vision that you had to create, all on your own. Pinterest is like my illustrated discovery journal on steroids. I can't decide if I want a real, old fashioned lifestyle, or a fully virtual, fully connected, 24/7 life. It's odd how I am waist deep in both lifestyles. I need to make a move soon. I wish I knew how to play life like a game of chess. It annoys me when I play more like checkers, where my fate is bound to some good moves and a little bit of luck. And then, I also love that life is more like checkers most of the time because I'm pretty good at checkers, and can't remember the rules to chess.

This applies to friends and lovers. 

Sometimes you can't make it on your own by U2


Tough, you think you've got the stuff
You're telling me and anyone
You're hard enough

You don't have to put up a fight
You don't have to always be right
Let me take some of the punches
For you tonight

Listen to me now
I need to let you know
You don't have to go it alone

And it's you when I look in the mirror
And it's you when I don't pick up the phone
Sometimes you can't make it on your own

We fight all the time
You and I, that's alright
We're the same soul
I don't need, I don't need to hear you say
That if we weren't so alike
You'd like me a whole lot more

Listen to me now
I need to let you know
You don't have to go it alone

And it's you when I look in the mirror
And it's you when I don't pick up the phone
Sometimes you can't make it on your own

I know that we don't talk
I'm sick of it all 
Can - you - hear - me - when - I -
Sing, you're the reason I sing
You're the reason why the opera is in meâ

Where are we now?
I've got to let you know
A house still doesn't make a home
Don't leave me here alone...

And it's you when I look in the mirror
And it's you that makes it hard to let go 
Sometimes you can't make it on your own
Sometimes you can't make it 
The best you can do is to fake it
Sometimes you can't make it on your own

creeping me out

Um, how does this blog have 942 page views. Who's out there? Voyeurs, or friends who log on to check in? Friends, you may comment if you wish.

???

secrets...s...sh....sha....sham....shame

I'm not quite sure why, but if you have a secret, it is safe with me. Maybe it's because I'm the least judgmental person you can call a friend. Maybe it's because I give good advice. Maybe it's because I had a secret of my own. Maybe it's the timing of when it happens and I just so happened to be nearby when you felt the need to spill the beans. But, if there's one thing I know for sure, I know EVERYONES' secrets. And I don't tell a soul. It's pretty fascinating too. So much better than television. Big screen movie worthy, real life stories, that I have the pleasure and privilege, and in some cases, the horror, of experiencing second hand. Having an affair? Tell me. I will let you drip all the juicy details of it and not once looked horrified or disgusted. Secretly hate your child? Tell me. I'll tell you it's you you hate and will give you straightforward advice without criticism. Tell me you're a childhood sexual abuse survivor and I'll try to fix you with my love.