Little Bits of Pixie Dust

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thourougly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO, what a ride!!"

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Bad Day

Sometimes, life sucks, and this is one of those times. I am sitting here, at 8:00 at night, at A*'s work. "Why?" the more curious of you may ask. Because he is fixing the car. "But D," someone in the back says, "weren't you just there the other day while A* fixed the car?" And to this I would have to answer Yes, yes I was. And now someone is surely going to tell me to stop writing in this stupid conversation thing, and I will.

The Story of the Car(s). See, we had one car. And that was fine, and we loved the car. On Saturday it started making a very unpleasant grinding noise. A* told me it was the brakes, and he could fix them, because he is really good with that car stuff. Sunday morning he went out to fix the brakes, and there was a problem. Now, I don't know anything about cars, so I'll spare you the detals. I know it had something to do with a bolt being stripped, and he couldn't get the calipers (??) off, so he couldn't fix the brakes.

But! There was a solution. We couldn't afford to get that car fixed right away, but we were already planning on buying another car, and the girl that we were getting it from was nice enough to let us make payments. So see, no problem there. We would just give her the first payment, and that would be the end of that. A car that worked. Perfect.

So A* put oil in the new car, and drove down to my work to pick me up. And I was very excited to see the new car, only because it was running and I like a car that can actually go. A* graciously allowed me to take the drivers seat, so I could experience the new car. It was very nice. Until I noticed the smoke that was billowing out from under the hood. Then I REALLY didn't like it when a little buzzer came on and a red light that said "Engine Overheating" came on. I pulled over to the side, and A* yelled "Fuck" a couple times and tried to look under the hood. He couldn't figure out what the problem was, but he did see the huge puddle of something that had leaked out of the car.

About twenty minutes later, the tow truck came. And the girl that sold us the car, because she felt really badly that we had only driven it for about ten minutes and we were already by the side of the road. The car was towed back to A*'s work, so that he could use some of the tools there.

And that is where we stand right now. Exactly 8:00. I have not been to my house since about 6:45 this morning. I have not eaten dinner. I have not taken a shower. I have not even taken off the outfit that I wore to work, even though I haven't liked the shirt I am wearing since the moment I stepped out of the house. And poor A* is on his back in some sand, trying desperately to fix whatever is leaking in the "new" car. So I feel like I can't even bitch, because he is out there working his ass off. But I wanna go home!! I wanna bitch, because this is just not fair!! How can a person have not one, but two, cars that they cannot drive. All in the same week? Actually, all in about three days. God. Sometimes you just want to get in bed, pull the covers up to your chin, and never get out.

Friday, June 16, 2006


First of all, I want to say that I had written a whole long entry, and then *poof* the power went out and everything disappeared. So this is the second try, and it may not be as good as the first... but hey, you didn't get to read the first anyway, so it really doesn't matter!

So I have been mulling this problem over and over in my head. I know that soon (please please God, let it be soon) A* may just take the plunge and actually propose to me, and then I will have a wedding. And that presents a problem. I have two men in my life that I consider to be my dad... one that is actually, biologically my dad, and the other that is in spirit and in heart my dad.

My stepdad, I'll call him K, where should I even start. The first time I met him, he crouched right down on the floor where I was coloring and presented me with a stuffed bear. He very seriously asked me if he could take my mom out, and me, being five and in awe of someone actually asking ME permission to do anything, said yes. About a year later, my mom and K got married. I was the flower girl in their wedding, and when the minister was saying the final blessing she included my name in it, and talked about our new family. But that first year was tough. I was angry that some guy had come into MY house and was taking up the spot on the couch next to MY mom, and K was trying to figure out the boundries of our relationship. K was a trooper, though, and kept trying. The first time I remember feeling really close to him was when we joined a father/daughter group together, and we went on our first overnight camping trip. I never liked to leave my mom, but in the middle of the night while I was giggling with the other girls and our dads roasted marshmellows for us, I realized I wasn't homesick at all, and that was because my dad was there. It was a good feeling.

K was there to hold my hair back when I threw up, applied countless Band-Aids to countless skinned knees, watched me and my friends perform backyard plays, taught me to ride my bike. He held me as I sobbed over my first broken heart, and he was the first man ever to bring me flowers. He never missed a swim meet, a choir concert, or a parent/teacher conference. In retrospect, now that I'm older, how amazing is it that this man, who had never even had a child, stepped into his role as a father so completely and without any complaints. In conversations, I am never, ever his "step"daughter, only his daughter.

And my real dad? Well, as I've said in previous posts, he wasn't always the greatest, and he wasn't always there. K stepped into his role with no question. But as I grew older, my bio dad and I began to repair our relationship, and it grew into a real friendship. Now, I see my dad at least once a week, and we talk via email and phone all the time. He has done a lot for A* and I, especially when we were just starting out together. But does this replace all of the lost time? Does this make him an equal player in walking me down the aisle?

I just don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. In my heart, I think that K is the one that should be walking me. I know that he will have some cute things to say as he gives me away, and he really will be giving me away because I was always his "little munchkin." But how do you look the man that created you in the eye and say that he just didn't do a good enough job, so he's been substituted? I just don't know what the right thing to do here is. Any suggestions?

Monday, June 12, 2006


Hello Internet! I haven't written in a while, perhaps because A* and I are trying to save money, therefore we have no lives. A* has something up his sleeve that he won't reveal, but I think that it has something to do with our engagement. We have the ring, and every day I put it on my finger and waltz around the house with a huge grin on my face in my pajamas, with my hand extended to admire, but A* wants to propose. So he has some big plan in mind, and I'm sure that this has something to do with his insane desire to save our every penny, but until I know why I am not happy. I am not good with saving.

When I was a little girl, I had an obsession with dolls. Not dolls that you play with, and drag around by the arm and love so much they are missing a head of hair. No, the dolls I loved were expensive porcelain ones, that you set on a shelf and admire but don't play with. I don't know where it came from, but all of a sudden I had to have these dolls. But these being collectors items, they were very expensive... Especially to a five or six year old girl. No matter to me. I would see a doll that I wanted, and I would save and save, sometimes for years, in order to buy it. I stuck all of my birthday money, allowance, anything, into my underwear drawer, and at any given time I could have hundreds of dollars in there. I also had a very large collection of porcelain dolls.

Cut to when I moved out on my own and actually had to start spending money on things such as bills. For some reason, once I had an actual job and the means to have money, I could never hold on to it. My saving abilities went out the window. I wanted a new purse and I needed it NOW, not a year from now. Plus, the gas company doesn't really appreciate the value of a good saver, and always insists that it has its money every month. Go figure.

So in this frantic burst of saving that A* has put upon us, I am not doing too well. He is a black or white type of person. If he says we are broke, we are BROKE. If I say we're broke, that just means that we can only go out to eat once on a weekend, not counting breakfast, and we can maybe go and pick a little something up at Target. So I knew that he SAID we weren't going to be able to do anything on the weekend, but when I got out of bed on Sunday morning and found out that no, we really are not going to breakfast, and this was after I was unable to meet my friend for drinks the night before and everyone that we KNOW had called to invite us to a local festival that we couldn't go to, I was a little upset. A* doesn't get how I just didn't hear him when he explained that we couldn't do anything this weekend, and I don't get how he can deprive me of even breakfast (out... he didn't starve me, I just didn't get to have a nice omelet that was served to me). He says that it will be worth it in the end, but I have my doubts.

It better not be a porcelain doll.

Friday, June 02, 2006


I was sitting here wracking (is that the way you spell it? should I know that?) my brain trying to think of something worthwhile to write about today. Sometimes I feel like writing, but truthfully? A* and I lead pretty boring lives. The most exciting thing that happened yesterday was that there was an "Office" marathon on. Woo hoo, we are so wild! Is anyone out there still not watching this show, by the way? It rocks, and we are totally addicted. Only a select few things can make A* actually spew Coke out of his mouth because they are just that funny. (not me, I can find something funny anywhere) So you should all be watching The Office.

I have a confession to make, Internet. I am lazy. Really lazy. My favorite past time is sleeping. A close second is sitting on my ass watching TV. I could make a career out of nothingness, as long as there was some ice cream in the near proximity. But alas, all this sitting and time suckage leads to a slight weight issue. As of right now, I am very unhappy with the way things are going in this department. My new boobs look so cute, and the rest of me is letting them down. So I decided to start working out.

A while ago, my dad gave me his old excercise bike. With the determination that I am famous for, I vowed to ride it everyday until I was skinny. This lasted about a week. See, I have trouble with long term goals. If I don't lose twenty pounds in the first week, then I'm just like, "Screw this," and I stop. The couch calls my name. But this time, I am PROMISING to myself that I will actually do it. I have ridden the bike for two days now. I have not lost any weight. I want to quit. But~ I won't. Because of these cute little boobs that just don't go as well with my frame anymore. For all the cute outfits that I want to buy. To have more energy and maybe not WANT to sit on the couch all day everyday. (yeah right) I am determined. My legs and ass burn. I am working out, damn it.

And I hate it.