Today, I cried.  Nick and I were laying in bed after I got home from work at about 2:30pm, contemplating a nap.  We were talking about stuff, and all of a sudden I felt tears welling up and it had nothing to do with the conversation.  So I let them overflow, and Nick got really concerned that he had caused them somehow.  I reassured him and then proceeded to sob all over his nekkid chest about all the drama in my life:

1- My mother is having a garage sale this weekend, selling oodles of stuff from her previous life (you know, the one I was in) to make a more streamlined current life (where her husband and stepson and my older sister and her boyfriend are).  I am a little freaked out by this, because most of those things have memories tied to them.  Also, mom wants me to help out, but I don’t live there anymore, and. . . stop calling me just when you want me to help you with something.  Gah, it’s like she started caring again once I got married and she realized I wasn’t as accessible as I was previously.

2- My mother is having this garage sale to make it easier to pack up things from the house so she can clean it up all quick-like and sell it.  SELL IT.  The house I grew up in, where my sisters and I came home from the hospital.  Where we were sick all those times.  Where my parents put eye screws into the door frame and we swung from the cords and thick dowel suspended there.  The house that Little Sister broke her leg when she was 2. . .or 3.  The house where I painted a senior art project on the bathroom wall.  The house where we brought home our first dog, and the backyard where we buried my favorite cat after he was killed.  The garage that used to house a stuffed bobcat that made me afraid of all garages, and ours in particular.  The yard where mom planted all the roses and flowers we got her as Mothers’ Day gifts, and birthday gifts.  The deck that my uncles and grandfather built as a gift to her, the spring before Little Sister graduated high school.  She’s selling all of that, hopefully within the month.

3- My mother is finding new homes for two of our cats as documented here.  The suck.

4- I am realizing and toying with the idea that, although I enjoy massaging people, I may not want it as a life pattern or personal definition.  I’ve worked at the same salon for 9 months, and even with great prices and lots of word of mouth and personal advertising and incentives and sneak-attack backrubs and jazzhands, I am not doing well.  I know I am a good massage therapist.  It is one of my skills.  But business is not showing these life facts, and I am getting tired of waiting for it to do so.  Also, my arms are getting tired and my heart is getting exhausted and I am starting to resent my clients.  I always knew that massage wasn’t a great, stable life path.  It sounds all fabulous, and you can tell me of all the places that are hiring, but if you look closely they’re looking for experienced therapists with established client bases to work generally on an independent basis under their roof.  I am not any of those things, businessally speaking.  I went to massage school  because I wanted the knowledge, badly.  I now have the knowledge, and I am slowly paying Miss Mae for the privilege.

5- Sister woes.  I am concerned for the sanctity of both my sisters’ pants.  Older, because her bf has pretty blue eyes and (even though I’m quite fond of him) is a charming bastard.  Younger, because she is currently living with her not-boyfriend and his sister.  Her not-boyfriend is a dude she’s had a crush on for a while but “they’re not going to pursue anything because she’s not divorced yet.”  That’s great.  Living under the same roof definitely is a safe move.  And SMART!  Gold star for you, skippy.

*** disclaimer***Guys, this is for me to vent and NOT for you to turn into the talk of the county.  If you wish to discuss with a spouse, go for it.  If you wish to discuss with ANYONE ELSE, I will know through my magical powers and I will climb into your dreams and make you pee the bed.  Or at least find out eventually and be very hurt and you’ll have to watch as my sad eyes fill up with tears and my chin shakes and I take a sobby breath and try to stay strong. . . but ultimately lose that battle.  And you made me cry.  Jerkface.***disclaimer***

So that freakout eventually mellowed, and Nick’s parents invited us out to Ying Bun, their family collective favorite chinese place.  At dinner, his mom asked us how we were and what was going on.  Start at bullet point 1 and continue on down.  And then I cried just a little into my egg flower soup.  After that, we visited his sister, brother-in-law, and their darling hellions.  The youngest lassie was off to a friend’s and that was a miracle because the middle lad was birthday-ing and had two friends over.  Let me extrapolate: 4 boys under the age of 10, water guns, brownies, Bakugon.  Whereupon the mama fed me a lovely beverage that didn’t smell remotely of Coke, although the drink insinuated there was some in there.  Three cheers for Sailor Jerry.  Or just one.  Happy Saturday, everyone.