lonely night

I really need to make some new friends.

Or some friends, anyway.

Bobby picked up Derek at 2:30 today. Since he left, I've watched several episodes of Dr Who and I wasted a couple of hours at Last Chance. I don't even like Last Chance anymore. I walked away with two bras and a pair of earrings I'll probably never wear. As for Dr Who, I'm not sure if I like the show or not ... it's just something to watch ... over and over and over again ... it's a little weird and kind of fun, but I don't really care what happens or anything.

I've been alone for more than six hours. I have no one to talk to, no one to call and say "hey, let's catch a movie or go to the mall." I'm bored.

Tonight was the first time I've ever gotten a bra at Last Chance. I've been going there for years and years--since I was in high school--and I've gotten shoes and shirts and handbags and lots and lots of jeans and dresses and even underpants and jewelry and children's toys, but I've never picked up a bra before. I'm not sure why. They only cost $3 per ... and they're good bras ... and I haven't had a new bra in over three years, maybe even more four years.

So, this is the mundane tomfoolery that I have no one to bore with.

No one to shop with me.

I'm bored and desperate for someone to talk to.

not a fan of random pics

I was in such a good mood this morning. Really, I was. I was singing and joking.

We had an offsite lunch for the entire office. It was fun.

We had a great time.

I was having a great time.

And then my boss snapped this pic and sent it out to all my techs....

...and, for some reason, it just really really bummed me out.

Like I'm seriously depressed right now.

No wonder no one loves me. I'm a hideous, red-nosed, fat-thighed cow. And even though I know it isn't true, even though I know I'm being melodramatic and silly....that's all I can see and it makes me sad.

I guess I don't like me very much.

Poor crooked-faced, tired-eyed me.

Derek has started pulling my hair out of its ponytail every time he sees me, fluffing my hair out, and telling me that he's making me pretty. Maybe he has a point. Maybe I need to abandon the ponytails again.

I don't know.

a stripe of color

I tried to touch up my roots tonight.

Tried.

My hair is still wet so I haven't gotten a clear look at the results yet, but I'm afraid I messed up. Big time. I can already tell that I chose the wrong color and it looks like I didn't do a very consistent job covering the roots either--so I've got a brighter, oranger, redder, broken up stripe at my roots interrupted by chunks and dashes of natural color (or other color anyway).

Ugh.

I've got reddish hair right now. Even when I was younger and I wasn't worried about grays, I thought my roots looked gray when they grew in under red ... and now I'm older and I am worried about grays and I think my roots look gray growing in under the red and it drives me nuts. Hence the attempt to color my roots.

I hope the difference in the new color and the old color isn't as obvious when it dries.

A part of me thinks it doesn't matter because my hair is a jumble of colors anyway. A littler (but sometimes louder) part of me thinks it doesn't matter because no one ever actually looks at me anyway. A third part of me is afraid it will matter. A fourth part hopes it's not noticeable. A fifth part hopes it matters. So many parts of me!

I wonder how long I could keep going with this.

Oh, well.

We've just finished watching Brave. I wonder if I could keep the red going and my hair growing and go out as Merida for  Halloween next year. Maybe I could dress Derek as a bear--but would that mean I was dressing him as the queen?

I'm sitting on the couch. Derek's lying against my back. I think he may have fallen asleep a minute or two ago. He suddenly got heavy and quiet and still. It feels nice. I'm debating if I should carry him to bed or wake him up and make him brush his teeth and take a shower, He had a long day. We skipped church again this Sunday (we skip most Sundays) and Derek missed his nap. Bobby took Derek to the park. I watched Anchorman 2 while he was gone. What a stupid waste of two hours! I could have and should have done so many other things instead. Darn it.

Derek will be three tomorrow.

sorrow everlasting

It's been four months and four days and I still miss my dad like crazy. Every day. Walking down the street, driving to work, seeing a new book title on Amazon--the sadness can strike anywhere and anytime. I miss him. I love him. I wasn't ready to let go. I'm better than I was four months ago, but I'm still not 100% okay. Or maybe this is what it means to be okay now.