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hula hula hula girl

Funny sight at the Taco Cabana... 9:00am Saturday.

Someone is picking out her own clothes. Not worth fighting over when it's not a school day. So I let Zoe be Zoe.

Zoe... hula, aqua, one-piece bathing suit. Tropical. Palm trees, beach umbrellas, pineapples.

She's wearing multi-colored pipe cleaner bracelets and anklets. Brown baby birckenstocks (sp?). Pink cat-eye Barbie sunglasses with silver glitter. Two little ponytails bobbing up and down.

And her green plastic grass skirt.

Munchin' on a potato, egg and cheese breakfast taco. Standing up shaking her hips. Drinking her strawberry soda.

"I a hula girl. I a hula girl." Except that with her little Texas Twang, girl has like 3 syllables in Zoe talk. Gerr - errrl. I a hula gerr - errrl.

Shakin what God gave her.

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I got an email Friday from Hanna. Apparently I witnessed Lissa signing her will.

I don't remember doing so, but I'm sure I did.

I've put off doing my will. There is no excuse. My sis is an attorney. There's no reason not to.

I haven't the nerve to ask my older sister and brother in law if they would raise Zoe if something were to happen to me. I don't think Dickford could raise her by herself. I don't think he'd want to. And I don't really think his family is suitable. His parents are old. His mother is legally blind and his father has a drinking problem. His sisters were bitchy to me.

I'm sure they'd all fight tooth and nail. The drama. The drama. They'd boo hoo at my funeral (although they might not show up. who knows with that family) When Dickford's sister died, none of them had seen her in years and they hadn't talked to her in a long time. I see both my sisters weekly and talk to at least one of them every day.

But they are loud Italians from New York. They'd boo hoo for a few, but then later they'd backstab and say what a brat Zoe is.

They all yell all the time. Zoe doesn't even know any of them. They obviously don't think enough of us to come see her or to send us a ticket to come see them. I don't want them to have her. I don't want them to change who she is and take her lovely, creative and loving spirit. Her name suits her. That's why I didn't change it in this journal.

My sister and her husband are giving, caring and patient. Their house is so peaceful to me. Even when it's loud and all 3 kids are crying. It's my second home. I feel loved there and so does Zoe. Her cousins are her "brud-der and sister." I can't imagine her not seeing them on a regular basis. My entire family for that matter. Momo and Papa (my parents) and all of my brothers and sisters.

I love my beautiful nephew and neice. I would love my child to have that experience.

Any one of my family members would be better parents than his family. Better parents that he is himself. (2 times a week for a few hours hardly qualifies anyone to be a parent).

I don't know if Dickford would ever agree to that. I would never stop him from seeing Zoe, but think he can handle raising her. He's never even had her for more than one night, and even then I used to pick her up by 9am. Usually only a few hours at a time, and usually when I pick her up he was beyond frazzled. Welcome to my world, Dickford. It sometimes sucks.

I will do my will before my 36th birthday. July, folks.

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I started writing an entry documenting all the fucked up things that have been going on for the past five days.

Just the same old bullshit that sometimes makes up my life. It's not even worth writing about.

I actually prayed a rosary on my commute home. I worked late so I drove home in 20 minutes (versus the usual 75 minutes). I didn't finish because I couldn't really remember how to say it. It was very calming even though I didn't remember the words.

As I wrote, it all drained from me. The fighting, financial desperation, aggrevation, frustration, and the feelings of sadness and unwellness. I just don't feel well.

I read today that David Letterman is taking a break. I wish I could do that. A week off sounds great. He said he had T.A.S. "Tired Ass Syndrome." David, dude, welcome to my world.

Ok, y'all, I did make a Dr.'s appointment with my endocrinologist, so hopefully he can work something out. My Doctor of seven years actually has gone back to school, so I'm going to a new guy in two weeks. Not my favorite experience, but something is just off kilter. I am not feeling well, and that feeling is just not going away like it usually does.

I've been doing some research on my symptoms, but nothing is coming up. Swelling in my lower legs. Muscle cramps. Dehydration even though I drink water all day. Je sui fatigue (that's all the french I remember). High blood sugar no matter what I eat. My lips, feet and palms are peeling. Blurry vision and lower back pain. All in all it doesn't sound good and it makes me feel like I'm 80. 90 even.

Where is that goob Dr. Egypt when I need him? He pampered me. I have this feeling he isn't coming on the 20th. Well, it's ok. I forgot that I promised Sis #1 that I would babysit that entire weekend for her husband's 20th class reunion.

I'm needing my mom. I'm needing my mom and a big ol' glass of water.

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I'm back at the stage I was before when I never had sex. I am starting to not even notice. I don't think about it. I don't miss it. I'm sure once I have sex again I'm going to knock my head on the wall and wonder what I was doing all this time without it.

I miss my mom more than I miss sex.

I hope that I can remember how to say the rosary. The traffic is brutal in the morning so I have nearly an hour and a half to say it. The radio stations here are so lame, I'd rather pray.

Send me some good vibe.

Je sui fatigue.

Posted by debutaunt at June 9, 2003 10:19 AM | TrackBack