Posted by: angelnorman | July 22, 2010

shake and bake, baby.

I’m just going to see how much crap I can cram into one blog post.

I want this hanging on my wall. I made it over @

Firstly, yesterday was the sixth year anniversary of my Granny’s death. My heart was heavy for most of the day for various reasons, her passing included, until I decided that she wouldn’t want me to mourn her like that- all mopey and sullen. She would want me to live my life like normal, so I did. I got out her wedding rings, which were given to me when I was 10, which is also when my mother promptly took them away and didn’t give them back till a couple of years ago. My Granny assumed I suppose that I would care for them. I would have, but I also would have been destroyed if something had happened to them.

I put on her wedding rings, which only fit my pinky finger (fatty!) and are missing three diamonds. Apparently, the ring is real so therefore I am terrified of it. You know I prefer some costume jewelry to real jewelry any day. Too much pressure comes along with the real stuff. Anywho, I read the letter my mom had written to me when she planned to give them to me originally– right after I was married. But she set them aside and never gave them to me until after she moved into her new house. In the letter, she talked a lot about marriage and how Mike and I can make it even when the times get tough, and I think I needed to hear that yesterday as I’ve been wondering what the heck I was going to do about mine and Mike’s recent issues. We can make it through this, and we will. We’ve been through a lot worse, after all. Still, I’ve been exceptionally stressed out about him; I even left the house the other night with Nicholas in tow and no intention to return until Michael had thoroughly apologized for behaving like a two year old. Of course, I finally returned at 10:30 that night, worn out and carrying an exhausted child. I love him too much to not care about his needs, see. Plus he throws the most glorious of temper tantrums, you have no idea how much it turns me on.

That was a joke.

At the end of my mom’s letter, she says, “P.S. Don’t make me a grandmama until I’m 43 or 40-something.”

I love that, because she was 43 on the nose when Nicholas was born.

Last night, I watched a little bit of Craig Ferguson and Ted Danson was on. They kept using hand sanitizer, and then Ted made a motion as though he was going to put it in his mouth. Craig said, “Don’t put that in your mouth! It’s poison. It’s got like- what is that? Alcohol and posion in it.” And because when it comes to making me laugh, it really doesn’t take much, I just about choked on my sweet tea with laughter.

I love Craig Ferguson. Sometimes when Mike goes to bed early, I pretend Craig is my boyfriend and as we spend a delightful hour alone together,  I laugh at all his jokes and I’m always happy to see him interacting with his friends. That’s enough to make me a respectable girlfriend, right? I don’t know what it is about him, but I wish the show was just him minus the celebrities. Or like, one celebrity a night. Even if it was just Craig rambling aimlessly like he sometimes does in his end monologue, I would watch that shiz every day. He’d have to keep Geoff though. I imagine Craig and Geoff could rule the world if CBS would let them. Anyhow, so there we are, just me and Craig and Geoff and some random celebrities. Then just when I’m feeling all blissfully happy, I feel guilty (almost dirty) for watching it without Mike and I’ll hit record.

We usually end up re-watching it over dinner the next day. Coincidentally, I think Mike thinks Craig is his boyfriend too because every now and then, Mike has a recorded Craig for me to watch and I think, “Oh you dirty boy!” I’m on to his game.

I also made a hair tie, because I needed to craft and I didn’t have enough materials to make the wreath I want to make. I’m still rocking the coke bottle wreath, and that needs to go.

Yeah, I know it looks like a kindergartener made it. But I still rocked it all day.

Sometimes I feel so depleted- emotionally, physically, spiritually- that I can’t function right. I get moody and depressed the more things that happened around me, like overwhelmed with all the chaos. My sister moved into her new place with her boyfriend of five years last weekend, and then they broke up yesterday. I worry for her. I want her to be in a situation that isn’t chaotic, that isn’t so up and down. You know, it’s hard to feel depleted but I think it’s even harder to watch someone you love get depleted too. I can see her struggling. I can sense her heartache. And I just wish I had a house big enough to move her in with me for awhile, but I don’t.  The same applies to Mike, actually. I can see his struggling. I recognize the symptoms of depression in him because I deal with them myself. And it’s so hard for me to sit back and allow him to be disrespectful and silly when I know he just needs to talk about it to someone. Only he won’t talk to me about it. He says it embarrasses him, which is so cliche. Everyone seems to have a mental disorder these days, and you’re embarrassed that you’re depressed? You’re embarrassed that you are reacting to your grandmother’s death? How silly does that sound, really? It is NORMAL to be depressed once in a while, for Pete’s sake. You’re not helpless until you can’t function, and that is what anti-depressants and therapy is for.

Trust me. I know.

Anyways, I’m way off topic. I was trying to say that I get so depleted a lot of the times and the only thing that pulls me out of it is making something with my hands. I love the healing powers of crafting! I love being able to immerse myself in something, anything, even if the outcome is kindergartenerish. I’m pretty sure that’s a word.

I’ll leave you with this, because tomorrow, I am seeing this man LIVE at Zanie’s.


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