The music never really dies

Hail, Merry Christmas! I don’t know about you, but I’m not really sorry that’s over.  I managed to disappoint every single person I buy for, except for my sisters and Tuggy.   An excellent way to wrap up the Year of the Fire Rooster, which was fairly eventful at Casa Gypsy.   Go me, woohoo.  Next year, I’m buying gift cards.   For me, this year came in with a bang and out with a bump, but believe it or not, I’m having a record year that is bringing a a lot of change to my life… some good, some bad and some are just downright scary.

Last time I checked in here, I was generally opposing the institution of marriage for pretty much everybody.  Not weddings… weddings are fantastic. There are sparkly things, amazing cake structures, happy tears and dancing.   It’s the next sixty years that scare the hell out of me. I kind of want to talk about the guy who won’t bake wedding cakes for gay couples, because apparently you must fill out a social history to partake of his buttercream.   Since Mercury is no longer in retrograde… I’m deciding against too much detail but know this:  I will not feel sorry for that guy should his business fail.  I’m also going to continue to advise you to think very, very hard before you have a need to deal with jerks wielding icing bags.

For the onset of the Year of the Dog,  I am skipping resolutions (again,) with the proviso that the best revenge is living well.  In 2018, I will open my second site of daycare.   This is the thing I am doing afraid…. It’s the next logical step in my career, I am more than qualified, and I will succeed if it kills me.  Good luck usually looks a lot like hard work, which I can handle.  Days like today, I think about the guidance counselor who told me to marry a nice man and I think about the me who told a good friend that she had awfully high standards for such a short girl.  These days, she is someone I try to emulate and also happens to send me Gnomeland security statues, because she’s just that fantastic.     I also think of who I was and how far I have come…. Funny how experience changes your perspective.

As ever, I can only tell you what not to do.  Today’s thing not to do is undervaluing yourself.  We do it every day, we minimize our general fabulousness and downplay that things that make us so very amazing.  No one else writes your story, nobody decides whether or not you find happiness and fulfillment.  Just you.  Tonight, I’m talking to myself as much as anything else.  Some days are better than others…. I don’t even have a soundtrack; can you even believe that?  Maybe today’s the day the music died for me… Nope, there it is… Oh, no not I… I will survive.

Hope vs Experience

The grandma of one of my daycare kids and I were talking today… We’re in same age group, because people my age have grandkids, just like I do.   (TF…I’m forty.)  It IS a seriously cool gig, in case I haven’t been clear. I love those babies to bits and pieces, would literally throw myself in front of a train for either one, right after I feed them a lot of cookies and hand them back to their mothers.  Bliss.  Remember, we are not aging on this side of the room.  Anyway, we were talking about boys, of the man variety.   Our girls and their guys, as well as ourselves and our guys.  I remember when I was as young as my girl children, I did a whole lot of things looking for happily ever after that I regret.  I try to hold that in my heart while I watch the train wreck.   Fact is, I’d do it all over again because I have the best five little humans anyone could ever ask for.

Anyway… other grammy told me she needs a rest.  I feel her.  Sometimes, that picket fence is just not attainable. Stockade fences also rock out loud.   Hell, be a rebel and forgo fences altogether. Fact: you have to be able to sleep alone.  Now, I love Dozer, he’s one of the better things that have happened to me in my life.   He’s fond of telling me that I’m not a princess (because I am the Queen, of course, but I don’t think that’s what he means.) and this isn’t a fairy tale… and he’s right. Doze is happy to roll up on a Harley to let me ride behind him like the queen of the May.  He’s not a white knight.  Except when he is.  Me loving Dozer doesn’t change the fact that picket fences aren’t really my style.   Once upon a time, maybe… but I need to be able to sing along, do the project and make the executive decisions.  Other grammy needs the paperwork.  She is the second lady friend of mine in a month who’s ready to roll over a signature and I can’t decide if I’m broken or if they are.

Once upon a time, I thought it was so very important to be roped and tied… then sweet freedom whispered in my ear.   For myself, marriage is not an attainable goal because I lack the ability to acquiesce.  This works for the guy in my life because he just really wishes I’d still wash his dishes. Autonomy and commitment kind of cancel each other out…   which is very a sad state of affairs.  So…Dozer neither needs or wants my papers…I hope my lady friends get the papers they desire, even though I don’t understand the need, anymore.   I remember when I was a bit less jaded and I thought a happy ending included a trip to the alter…. Now I know that Happily Ever After is a town with Denial River running through it.   I think my saddle trained purple dragon is hanging out there.   Miss Shannon is going to keep driving her Chevy.