I finally got around to making a new sugar scrub today. My skin feels fantastic. I haven't had any kind of exfoliate for my face in ages, and it sure felt it. Now it's all smooth again, and I'm content. A good thing to help me feel a little better on a day spent feeling like crap (I'm sick, and I hate it).
I didn't take any pictures. The container I used is just a cleaned out glass jar I bought some organic honey in at the Farmer's Market last year. This stuff smells really yummy. One of the best parts about it- if you get some in your mouth, or lick your lips right after using it, it's okay! It is sweet, and makes me want to go kiss someone. I scrub very lightly on my face and lips, neck and chest area. I smooth it on and then rinse off with warm water. When I am using it in the shower, I do it right before I do my final rinse to get out. But be forewarned- this will leave an oily layer on the bottom of the tub, so be careful and make sure to rinse it well so that the next person getting in doesn't slip!
How I did it:
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup sunflower oil (olive oil works well, too)
1-2 teaspoons Vitamin E oil*
1 teaspoon almond extract*
1/2 teaspoon lavender oil*
(*amounts approximate- I just eyeballed it. They are also totally optional. The almond and lavender can be switched out for whatever yummy scents you so desire!)
Mix together sugars until well combined. Add sunflower oil and mix with a fork until all sugars are moistened. Add the remaining oils and stir well. Spoon into a clean container with a tight fitting lid.
To use: Take a small amount into your fingers and wet with just a small amount of water until sugar forms a paste. Massage gently into skin. You can let sit a minute if you want. Do not scrub! Use a light touch- especially on your face! Rinse with warm water and pat dry.
I just store mine on the counter in my bathroom. The previous batch I made I stored in my shower, on an area that did not get the spray from the shower head. Be sure to put the lid back on securely after using, so water does not get inside.
(Please note that I started writing this a couple of weeks ago!)
Fall is definitely in the air. No really- I can feel its chill bite when I walk outside. The breeze has got a nip in it now, unlike the warm caresses of summer. Fall is more playful- pricking you with little pinches, roughing up your cheeks until they are a blush pink. Not quite as tough as winter, who plays a bit harder, but enough to put that pep back in your step. Oh, the temperatures are supposed to go back up to the 80s, according to the news reports I've seen.
However, Fall has made herself known, shown that she is here, waiting for her time to start. She is in the back room, reading her book, watching the clock until the time for her to begin her shift is near enough to come up front and start working.
I see the sunflowers, their faces turned up to the sunshine, basking in it; their arms wide to embrace it.
The leaves are beginning to change color- backdrops painted in rusty oranges, reds, and gold.
Pictures of pumpkins and haystacks are beginning to make their rounds on the internet.
Soon they will be alongside the Indian corn in the markets,
begging to be made into some scrumptious pie
or stew.
I love Fall. It is my favorite season, believe it or not. Especially these kinds of Fall... where the temperatures stay warm enough and dry enough to still enjoy the outdoors. Don't get me wrong- I am a sun whore. I love high, dry temperatures and lots of sunshine to go play in the lakes with. However, there is something about those days where you want to go run and jump in those huge piles of leaves that you have to rake up from your yard- but then chill enough to go sit around a fire afterwards, making smores and sipping hot cocoa.
So much has happened since I last wrote. I've wanted to come write about it, but life, procrastination, and feeling like a broken record all got in the way. My stress levels have switched, going from being worried about having to move, over to bills and finances and all that wretched money crap.
We were lucky enough to find a place to move into. The landlady is kind enough to allow us some leeway on getting the deposits paid. However, they still lurk there. We are still waiting to see what we get back from the other place. According to Sandy (the property management person), she has until the 14th to get it to us. That's two days from now. I'm sure it won't happen until then, and we'll probably still have to go knocking on doors to get it. Then, I have no doubts, will be the arguing over what they charged. I'm expecting it to be ridiculous.
Then, of course, comes all the back up of bills that happen with a move. I don't know that it is normal for most people, but for us, we have to skip a month of bill paying in order to move. I'm not sure why that was necessary this past time, since she did not require the deposits up front, but for some reason the last paycheck vanished. However, the extra gas, on-the-fly eating, purchasing items to clean and repair the old house, while buying stuff needed at the new house.. all that adds up. And the bills got pushed to the background. Now I get to play catchup, and it seems to be a lot harder this time.
There is a ton of crap in my head, that I am not going to drown you all with. Let's just say that my brain is still not at 100% focus lately.. to distracted with this, that, and the other. Not to mention I usually feel like an idiot when I start discussing stuff with people. Ah, well, the joys.
But we are moved in, and starting to get settled. School has started once again, and the kids are off to their bigger-kid classes. I find it completely irrational and unbelievable that my children are no longer in elementary school. I can't possibly be old enough for that. Yet, there it is. /sigh.
Time moves much too quickly. There should be a pause button.
I was reading a book the other day, and the main character described feeling as though he were just a character written by a bad writer. Funny, yes... one of those mirror in a mirror in a mirror type things. However, I completely identified with that feeling. It was so perfect, that I had to stop and step back for a moment; look to see if I could see a large face in the sky outside- pencil posed above the paper that is my world. I could envision myself there, the paper upon his messy desk (for yes- it would be a man writing my story. I couldn't tell you why that would be.), the hand not holding the pencil shoved roughly into a scraggly mess of tangled hair on his head, his brow knit in frustration as he tried to adequately describe the scene, but not being able to pluck the right words out of his mind.
Truly, he reminds me of me, in male form, years from now when I am old and grey and still trying to get that one story completely written down, edited, finished, and ready for publishing, and most importantly- out of my head. I feel terribly for the poor guy.
I digress.
Back to feeling like a character written by a terrible author. I really do. A rushed story. One without much depth. The plot line is shaky and not well thought out; scenes shabbily described, murky and left completely to the imagination, which could vary from reader to reader, shifting the story drastically in some areas. My character feels unfinished- lackluster. Relationships are not very well-written, leaving the reader to feel no real connection to anything about my character. My description is jumpy- my personality spread all over the place, leaving me wandering and confused. More so maybe than the reader. The reader is left with an unpleasant taste in their mouth- no interest. The book is tossed aside, half-read, and that's only if they were dedicated...
The story was Roadwork by Richard Bachman, by the way. In no way, shape, or form a terrible writer. Quite the contrary- as far as I am concerned. I wish he could have been the one to write my story. Of course, then it would have probably been a crazy horror story. Maybe lackluster bad writing is okay....
Some days I feel so utterly removed from the world that I cannot stand it. Not "removed" as in "not immersed in", but removed as in "not part of". People and places and situations and relations, et cetera, all feel so alien to me. I feel like I'm there, but not really. Not precisely invisible, just not necessary, either. An extra; insignificant; just there as filler while the main actors run the show. I watch everything through glass, able to see but not interact. I don't feel like I am truly a part of anything. An unintentional mime.
It is hard when I say someone is making me feel one way, and it is brushed aside and not even acknowledged. Or worse, when I am made to feel like I am the problem, and their actions towards me are warranted and not something that needs to be apologized for. I am an idiot, so them treating me as such is acceptable, even when called on it. It is okay when they do things that I have asked for them not to, because they feel it is what I need, or will make me happy. They know these things- what is good for me, where my happiness is, because obviously I do not.
There are times when I just want to pack my kids up and move far away- somewhere nobody knows me. I could hide there, in that place. Keep my head down and to myself and not have to worry about trying to be a part of anything anymore. If I don't already know anyone, then it won't hurt if I feel forgotten. It won't bother me to feel like I am intruding or trying to force myself in somewhere that doesn't feel I belong. I won't feel like people cater to me in order to spare my feelings, while rolling their eyes behind my back, wishing I would go away. Or thinking that I should be doing or acting a different way, in order to make them feel like I am a whole person. Without having my every motive or action questioned and scrutinized.
But does such a place exist? No, I think not. I could run away. I could hide. But people will always be there, and I am so socially inept that I will feel the same regardless of where I go. Not to mention I can't just hide myself away from the world. I can't go and become a hermit somewhere. I have to be involved in this world so that I can help my children be involved in this world. Thank the gods for my children. Seriously. I wouldn't even have the strength to doggy-paddle, or just float, in this life if it weren't for them. They are my life raft; the floaties on my arms, helping to keep me adrift, keep my head above water and breathe air into my lungs.
I know that there are genuine people out there. People who genuinely like and accept me. Maybe even people who understand me. I know much of my feelings stem from old wounds that have sat and festered instead of healing. Wounds that healed on top, but not breathe, so that the pus and infection sit and eat away of what is around it. From the top, it looks okay, but underneath is horror. There are things to help it. I could cut open the scar and scrape the infection out, let it heal as it should. But that is painful. Oh so awfully painful. I could take antibiotics, and fight it that way. But they are so expensive, and take so long to work, if they ever do. Finding the right medication could cost so much time and money, and they have some nasty side effects.
So here I sit, my hands upon the window panes, my fingertips smugging the insides. I sit peering out at the world. At all the beautiful people going about their lives. Their beautiful lives, full of realness. I long to be a part of that world, to mingle among them. But I am also terrified of it. Sometimes I beat my fists on the glass, hoping to shatter through it, through the walls and barriers I have created within myself. But I think part of me holds back the strength of that pounding, that small, fearful part that is horrified of becoming a part of that beautiful alive world. Afraid that I cannot do it. That I am too weak, too stupid, too [insert negative adjective here].
I've been rather frustrated with some things lately. More than just the stupid house looking issue (that, thank goodness, is resolved!). But, I've come to some realizations, and some conclusions, and have devised a plan of action. I have given myself a deadline, and if things have not changed, things will change.
The winds are a blowin'.
***UPDATE**** We signed the lease agreement!! The landlandy (Cindy) is awesome. So far, I love her. So much weight has been lifted off my chest... It's an amazing feeling. Thank you to all of you who have helped out with this whole thing. I couldn't have made it through (without a full-blown, major panic attack or fifty) without you! Now, we will be scheduling a moving party!! End of August. =D
So, we may have found a place. We meet with the landlady in 2 hours to go over paperwork and all that jazz. My son's Boy Scout leader is moving, and they need someone to move into the house they are leaving. The funny thing is (and I may have mentioned this in a previous post) that we actually looked at the house last year when we were moving. But, this house we are in won, not only for its size, but for the fact that it was with a property management. After all the problems we've dealt with over the years with just dealing with the homeowners, we thought having a property management to go through would be a nice change. Boy howdy, were we wrong.
Anyway, so we went back to the house and looked at it yesterday. It is right around the corner from where we are now, so same location. The bus stops wouldn't even change for the kids, other than the fact that they are moving up into the higher grades now. It is directly across the street from a nice park, so while our yard is going to be smaller, we have an entire park right across the street to play in. Best of all, the Scout leader has had nothing but absolutely fabulous things to say about the landlady and her experience with her, and that leaves me feeling better than anything.
I am trying not to get too hopeful just at the moment, though. We are going to have a bit of a struggle with deposits. As in- I have no freakin money, so I don't know how the hell I will get a deposit at all. I'm hoping that she is willing to work with us on that a bit. We will find out this morning. We have nothing until the people here get through the house and give us our deposit back. However, in the dealings we've had with them in the past, I do not expect that to be quick, easy, or painless. I am fully expecting them to take their sweet time with it, and then try and screw us out of as much as they possibly can.
That, and I am also concerned with the amount of time that we will actually have to move. I suppose it won't be too much of an issue, being as it is just right around the corner. Moving will be fast. Hell, I don't even have to pack too much really. Just walk it over there. We may only have a window of a week or so to get over there, which is totally doable. My ideal scenario would be for us to be able to start moving in around the 15th, in order to give us plenty of time to actually set up and move stuff around and all that. However, that will involve extra money for split month's rent, which I just do not have.
Omg.. I need more money.
Oh well. It will work itself out. I just hope that this scenario itself works itself out. I like the homeowner. I love the location. And the house is really cute. Smaller than here, but workable. My daughter gave it a big thumbs up, too. So, keep your fingers crossed for us, will ya? =)
This whole having to move thing is causing me too much stress. I think I am doing a good job at keeping it in check, but I have my moments of melt-down. Usually quick moments by myself, where I can let a few tears out, have my mini-freak-out, wash my face, and get back to normal before people notice my absence. We have a few other places we've put calls into- on maybe good possibility, but I'm not putting any faith in it until it's a done deal.
I have boxes all over my house, ready to be packed. However, I'm struggling with trying to figure out what to pack. We've moved so many times over the past few years, and purged with each move, so there really isn't too much more to get rid of. And, I don't want to get rid of stuff I'll want once we're settled just because I'm having a tantrum today. I've done that too many times, too. I don't have the income to just go and replace it.
Plus, all the boxes, and trying to figure out what to pack, just reminds me that, once again, I'm having to do this. I wonder when I'll find a place where I will be comfortable finally unpacking all the boxes; Putting pictures on the walls, decorating... When will we finally be able to settle? It makes me feel like such a huge-ass failure as a person. I'm almost 36 years old, and I don't have a place where I call "home" and mean/feel it. Because next year I'll just have to pack everything up again for one reason or another, and move it. Granted, some of those moves have been my own damn fault. Not this one, though. Nor will the next. Unless we get another really craptastic landlord (cross your fingers that that is not the case!).
I am constantly reminded of my dad telling me that I was a "worthless piece of shit that would never amount to anything". I often get the feeling that he was correct in his prediction. And that makes me feel even worse. I remember the dreams- no, not dreams, the conviction- as a kid, that I was going to be someone. Maybe not someone famous, or necessarily rich, but I was going to be living a great life, comfortably. I let the fact that I was so smart in school go to my head. I thought there was no way I would ever be where I am now. Well, hello drugs and money. LOL. I know things could be so much worse than they are now. I am thankful that my son came when he did. I'd much rather have the financial struggles from having a child than the horrible problems that would have arose from the drugs and the lifestyle I was living before I got pregnant. It's more probable that I wouldn't even be around anymore.. or I'd be so much of a shell of myself that I may as well be dead.
But, I wanted so much more than this. I expected so much more. I want so much more for my kids. I want to take them on vacations to places like Disneyland, Hawaii, the Grand Canyon, etc... I want to be able to pay for them to participate in the activities they want to. But, as sad as it is to say, right now I'd be so grateful just to give them a place where they can call home and not have to worry about moving again. I can't believe I'm 35 years old, and still dont' have that.
I try to rectify the situation, but how? I don't know what to do. I guess I could work more. Find another job to make more money so that I can afford more. I've mentioned that more than once on here, I know. But I also am a firm believer that money doesn't solve everything. It doesn't make a life. More often than not, the working takes away from the life. I don't want to take away time from my children. I want a magic fairy godmother to shake her wand, say "Bibbity-bobbity-BOO" and make things brilliant for me.
I take solace in that fact that I think my kids are happy. I've so far been able to keep them in the same area, in the same schools, with their same friends. That is one thing I refuse to compromise on. I will not make them change schools. I will go live in an apartment complex if that is what it takes. Their schools/friends/etc are the one thing I've been able to keep constant for them. The only way we will change (although it won't affect my son now that he's in the high school) is if we were somehow able to buy a house. Then we would consider changing the junior high my daughter goes to. But until that happens, we are staying in this area.
So that is where it stands as of now. I have my mini panic attacks here and there, but for the most part, I try to push them aside and focus my attentions elsewhere. I'll save the major panic attack for last. LOL
I seem to be in this whole "once-a-month posting" thing, or something. It seems that every month to month-and-a-half I'll put something up here. Even though things have been pretty eventful around here, in their own way. I just haven't had the drive to post about it. Whether or not that's a good thing, bad thing, or "who cares?" thing, I don't know. Regardless, here I am again.
Dustin has come back. It's been a while now, but as I mentioned before, I just haven't sat down to post about anything. He proved me wrong, which is one of those times when being proven wrong is a good great thing. However, some of me wonders if it would be the case if things had gone good out there. If he had gotten a job, etc... would he still have come back? I have decided that it's best not to dwell on that sort of thinking, though. He's here, and I'm happy about that, so I will leave it at that.
Things with the house are frustrating. We still have no word back from the property management on whether or not our lease is going to be renewed, or if they still want us out. It's incredibly stressful. We were so excited to be with a property management team so that we would have actual communications about our house, and get problems resolved in a timely manner. That hasn't been farther from the case here. There is absolutely no communications from them. I don't know if it's a problem with the homeowners, or just the property management, but regardless, the property management should be telling us something. Even if it's just "They still haven't gotten back to me yet." But silence is not golden in this scenario. It's pissing me off, to be completely honest. We were so excited to finally have found someplace where we would no longer have to move. Somewhere we could finally settle down and make a real home; have some stability for the kids. Then they tell us half-way through that they changed their minds. Well, our property management person told us that. Once. Then hasn't said a word about it since. So, we aren't sure if it was ever really an honest statement, or something said in passing as a "maybe" that got blown out of proportion to us, or what. But I can tell you that her lack of communication has really frustrated us to the point of no longer wanting to deal with it, even if they do decide to renew the lease.
But at the same time it makes me so sad, because we truly love this place. It the perfect location and the perfect size. We love the yard, and the garage area. The thought of having to pack up and leave it behind makes my insides hurt. Honestly hurt. It makes my stomach twist and my brain just refuses to deal with it. When I try, it gets all achy and foggy... I feel like a dvd that's skipping. But dealing with this property management (or, not dealing with them, if you want to get technical...) is too much. We are in a state of constantly being on our toes, not knowing what is going to happen.
We have a place to go. And it's super cute. But I have my reservations about it, I must say. There are questions that have come up between Dustin and myself (I will talk to you about those later, if you are reading this). I'm not going to post them here, because they do not need to be publicly addressed, but I was hoping to be super excited about the next place we found. I suppose it's just because we like it here so much.
Maybe it's just that I don't know how to handle things going right for a change. Things seem to have been falling in place lately. Dustin is going back to school, with strong work options. We have someone willing to get us into a place with no money down (which is essential if we are to move, as we don't have the funds for deposits, first/last, etc at the moment). My secured credit card went unsecured, and they refunded my deposit for that, which was just enough to get us officially caught up on bills, which is a bonus and huge relief. But things just feel off to me. It's almost like walking through a great dream, but one that has a dark undertone and winds up turning into a huge nightmare. I keep waiting for the boogeyman to jump out and steal everything out from under me.
Oh well. I am going to just take things day to day and see how they wind up. I'm trying to keep my anxiety at bearable levels, but I can feel the tendrils of panic seeping in, which is strange since things are going okay if not good, and I see no reason to freak-the-eff out. But, there it is. However, I am going to be thankful for every positive thing that comes our way, and remind myself that we deserve it.