Saturday, December 19, 2009

I'm moving more Than Just Everything

I was trying to sign up for Technorati, but they told me I didn't exist and when they finally found me they said that robots were taking over my blog and that they were bad robots and wouldn't let theirs in. Apparently all web pages have robots and blogger only allows the Google ones and tells all the other ones to Bugger Off.
Since I am all for Robot Freedom and strongly believe they can go anywhere they want, I am going to give Wordpress a try. I hate to leave my spot here, but what's a world with only one kind of robot.

This is my new address:

Please notice that there is an l in there. That's an L in lower case. This is a little different from the address here, but someone else had taken kristiz. Please don't read that blog and think it's me because it's probably a wacko blog about robots or porn or something. I'll leave this up indefinitely so you won't miss me too much, or at least until I decide the robots over there are more forgiving. And I figure out how to import my posts from here. I have no idea how to do that!

Friday, December 18, 2009

This is me, not OWNING IT, yet.


I went to my father's house to do laundry today. Yeah, I know. How old do I have to be before I stop using his hot water? He is starving for conversation, or more like a willing victim to tell his every thought to--from the draining of carbohydrates in the maple sugaring process, to his relative's insanity, to how much firewood he's using now that he's home all the time. I enjoy this time with him, but today I had something really important to say and it was hard to just throw it in there after hearing "yeah, the dog hasn't had a seizure in a while."
That's great Dad, but you know that guy who came for Thanksgiving? We're getting married. Yeah, he'll think I'm marrying the dog and Nick has seizures sometimes.
So I snuck my way around that question, just like I sneak my way around anything I have to say that's important but the other person might not like it..
"Will you watch the girls while I go on a trip in February?"
Sure, sure he would. He calls me just to take them anyway when he's bored.
And later on, after hearing about the company watch that he should go pick up, but doesn't really want, and the variability of the price of dish detergent on the Price Is Right, I threw in the real news that he never asked for because he was still trying to understand how the woman on the Lifetime Channel movie was really the daughter of her grandmother's daughter, whom she always called Auntie.
"I'm going out to visit Nick."
I snuck that in there really well because he never even paused to take a breath and instead went through a seed catalogue showing me what he was going to buy for next spring and told me twice that he had started his 65 Chevy truck, that sits in the garage.
So now I can say that I DID TELL HIM that I was marrying the love of my life and moving back to Wyoming next summer, and that he of course is invited to the wedding and that we'll work out how he can take the kids for part of the summers and he can't say I didn't.
It's not that I don't love Nick and I have to hide him. It's just that 5 1/2 month is a long time to be around people who don't want me to move. And I want that ring before I announce anything. It'll make it real and then they won't think I've lost my mind, not completely anyway.

Monday, December 14, 2009

The Twelve Uses of NickAngel

In the spirit of Christmas and giving and blah blah blah I have agreed not to spread the joy of the NickAngel around (or maybe because he begged me not to), but since he has already appeared once on my blog I think I can continue to post him occasionally without getting into too much trouble.
Besides, he gave me the idea of posting the TOP 20 USES of NickAngel. (Hint to him: don't ever GIVE me ideas freely.) I have decided to only post 12 however, because that seems about right.

The Twelves Uses of NickAngel

1. Posted on Facebook

2. A Deck of Cards

3. On a Coffee Mug:

4. On a t-shirt

5. On an Ipod
6. On a Laptop Skin

7. On a Card

8. On a Wanted Poster

9. With Edward

10. On a Stamp

11. In a Museum

12. On Christmas Ornaments

See, I do have the Christmas Spirit!!!

Sunday, December 13, 2009

More Ghetto Queen--I woke up with this in my head

(To the tune of Dancing Queen by ABBA)
You can drink, you can drive, having the time of your life
See that girl, crush that can, digging the Ghetto Queen

Friday night and the lights are low
Rats come out and play in the snow
Where they sit and light one up, getting in the swing
You come out to look for a king
Anybody could be that guy
The neighbors are young and very high
With a Bud Light in hand, everything is fine
You're in the mood for a beer
And that's how you'll find your man...

You are the Ghetto Queen, old and mean, only forty-teen
Ghetto Queen, feel the beat from the Ghetto scene
You can drink, you can drive, having the time of your life
See that girl, crush that can, digging the Ghetto Queen

You're a loser, you hang one on
Leave them crumpled and then you're gone
Looking out for another, any can will do
You're in the mood for a beer
And when you get the chance...

You are the Ghetto Queen, old and mean, only forty-teen
Ghetto Queen, feel the beat from the Ghetto scene
You can drink, you can drive, having the time of your life
See that girl, crush that can, digging the Ghetto Queen

Friday, December 11, 2009

Ghetto Queen

So he left a 12 pack of Bud Lite cans in Vermont. And being me I can't let any alcohol go to waste! Maybe you remember the Deadly Bottle of Gin last year that I openly passive-aggressively decided to finish off instead of dumping down the drain and only stopped when one sip would burn a hole in my stomach lining.
I decided to start drinking the beer last night and poured a can into a giant beer mug in an attempt to make it classier. My mistake, it looked like a giant mug of pee, only not my pee because I don't drink nearly enough water to make my pee look that light.
It had no flavor at all until I was about halfway through and I must be a lightweight because I already had a little cheap beer buzz going on and it started to taste like something. Not like beer. More like water that is just slightly better than my nasty tap water.
Then I realized that I had unknowingly succeeded in the plan I had made when I moved into the ghettos two years ago. If I was going to live in the slums then I was going to become the Queen of the slums and sit on my doorstep drinking beer out of a can. (This was the slummiest thing I could think of and obviously shows I belong here.)
After moving in I realized that if I did something like that the neighbors would think I was cool and friendly and come over and talk to me! Nooooooo! So instead they probably have me labelled as more of a stuckup bitch. Much better.
So I think I'll keep drinking the beer, but I won't be doing it on the doorstep. I'll remain a closet Queen drinking pee out of a glass. I can still crush the empty cans on my forehead before I throw them into the recycling box in my hall closet.
Sometimes when I watch Survivor I think WOW this is alot like my life. All the strategizing, saying things a certain way to get a specific outcome, watching my back. Just yesterday someone hit me with an email which was just as outrageous as Russell saying he had all the power because he holds the immunity idol and that having it doesn't put a target on his back.
That's about as idiotic as my ex husband suggesting he work out any misunderstandings ahead of time with the man I'm marrying in September.
I like to try to sit on things for a day before I let them fully sink it. Hang onto the panic that comes whenever I hear from him. Sit alone in the dark and breathe or lay on the livingroom floor, because if I shut myself in my room the girls tell everyone they can find that I'm lost, or dead, or having some major crisis. At least in the livingroom they only lay down next to me and stare at me, waiting for me to take my last breath so that they can have my new favorite scarf that Abrah gave me for my birthday.
Where was I going with that?
After a day of trying not to take any specific direction on this outrageous email I have come to 20 different conclusions. The most important one is that he just screwed himself out of the best direction he could have taken in controlling my life by saying that he's happy with my relationship and that I'm moving. It will be nearly impossible to go to court now and claim that I can't move because I'm taking the girls away from him.
Major Strategic Mistake!
His second mistake is thinking that he can use my man and my therapist against me. And not very subtly either. "Kristi won't like this" is a huge understatement. But then he's tried to undermine me with the girls by telling them stories about me, with my mother by trying to get her help in seeing the girls, with my father by buddying up to him, with the principal of the girls' school, with the police chief, with everyone at Family Court, with the Office of Child Support, with the Department of Family Services. The only person I think he's never tried this on is Abrah.
He wouldn't DARE call Abrah and attempt to be friends.
I'm a bit surprised he didn't ask to bring her to therapy too, because if he wants to hang out around me and be invited into my house he would definitely have to get past her.
And Bill too of course.
The third mistake which should kick him out of the game immediately is thinking he's in control and stating in a booming all powerful voice "All is Forgiven."
He needs to take a logic class.
Anyway, I'm hoping that in writing down my conclusions I can get them out of my head and move on to other things like grocery shopping. So let's make a list of the 20 conclusions of Kristi:
1. He is mistaken about who is in control. I think it might be Ellen. But then again I hired her.
2. Documentation works both ways.
3. My fiance will never side with him against me.
4. Twisted is as twisted does.
5. The chances of running into him are slim.
6. And #5 is not a big deal anyway. I can scream really loud.
7. The criminal is the one to be forgiven, not the victim.
8. Forgiveness is not one of the stops on the Path to Gof.
9. Unless it's forgiving myself for having a Stupid Moment.
10. Or maybe a couple.
11. Delusions full of contradictions will only bite you in the ass in front of a judge.
12. Using big words only makes you look stupider.
13. I need more therapy.
14. This is merely a good test, to see who's who and who does what.
15. I need to be protected sometimes.
16. Sending me an outrageous email while I'm at work makes for an interesting day.
17. I can get through this without self-medicating.
18. If I can laugh, I can breathe.
19. He's afraid of Abrah.
20. Installing a microwave security system is a really good idea!

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Slushy Vermont Days

Yes, that was me in my red Christmas Pajamas and non-matching blue winter coat, headed to the dumpster this morning with a leaking bag of trash. Why are there so many people up so early scraping their cars off? At least no one dares to look directly at me. No one says "Good Morning." No one makes eye contact.
That's the way I like it in the ghettos.
I might have also been whistling tunelessless and pulling my pajama pants up cause they kept slipping down. And I didn't want the bottoms to get wet so I'd have to sit around all morning wishing I'd kept them out of the slush.
I think they're slipping down cause my boobs are shrinking.
Yes, we're back to the boobs.
I went off the pill 5 days ago!!! Woo hooo! 5 Hormone Free Days. I'm like an organic cow. I feel okay, a little loopy. That may be normal though for being so close to Christmas, licking Christmas frosting to make sure there was just enough salt in it, and missing Nick. My boobs definitely do hurt though. Everything shrinks back to normal noncomplacent size. Hopefully this will happen with the pudge as well. It would be WRONG to have small boobs and a huge pudge. Maybe I could convince people that my boobs just SANK and joined together.
Anyway, I drove Haley to school in my pajamas and stopped to ask the other girls why the school bus hadn't come yet. I rolled down my window and the sheet of ice that was stuck to it fell in my lap. I am an idiot. So my pant legs are dry but I still need to change.
Obviously I'm much better than yesterday and I think Ellen might be the Queen afterall.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

NOW reminds me too much of THEN

the whole waiting for something bad to happen thing.

Unable to do anything.

Just kindof blank and fuzzy.

Hopefully it will fade soon.

In July of 2003 I happily packed all his things into the back of his truck and sent him off to Idaho. I didn't care how bad things would get, just as long as he wasn't around anymore. And things did get bad. He stopped paying the mortgage because according to him "it was now my responsibility." He turned off the utilities one at a time, expecting me to switch them over to my name, even though in the six months until I left he send me a total of $800 and most of that was the first and only child support check he actually wrote out without it being garnished.

Soon I was sitting in the cold and the dark, borrow money from the girls' piggy banks to buy a loaf of bread for Christmas Dinner.

And most of the time I was happy enough. Except that he would call and call and call. He would call to make sure I was home. He would call to find out if I had left the girls in the house alone. he would threaten to call the police. He would threaten to come back and throw me out. He would beg to talk to "his girls." Fifty times a day he would call and leave messages.

I spent alot of time lying on my bed staring at the ceiling in some kind of comatose state of anxiety. I was packing and cleaning and making a plan to run while he wasn't looking. He would call and tell me exactly where I'd been that day. People stalked me for him. Was he going to come back and break all the windows on my van, loosen the spark plugs, take all my money? All things he's done before or said he was going to do. When he came over to "his" house he would go through everything, lecture me on how all the men in town would be trying to come over and screw me because I was vulnerable, and tell me how messed up the girls would be if we weren't together. He would talk at me until I started to cry and then he would apologize and be all nicey-nice. I wasn't buying it.

This time I didn't drink or smoke. I planned and I protected. And I forever pay the price for all of that. I didn't sleep much. I was living in some kind of fog in between sleep and being awake. I had 6 hours head start if he found out I was going in the other direction. I lost weight. I was down to a scary 115. I was running on adrenaline and not much else.

Yes, it's true. I feel like I'm right back there although things have changed. I have alot more power now. He can't legally call me ever. He can't send nasty emails. If he comes anywhere near me I'll just scream. But it's like the POW's trapped in a small cell for months. If the lights go out, even after they're safe at home, they go right back to that terrible place in their heads.

And even though it logically seems like there's not a whole lot he can do I can't feel free of it. He still chases me in my dreams. So I guess Ellen's right. I have to fix this. I have 6 months to fix this. I have to be free.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Do I look GIRLIE to you???!

Okay, so looking for the perfect wedding attire. Me. The one who despises weddings has become obsessed. WHY?

Because I love him more than anything and being together means so much to me that I want it to be perfect and simple and meaningful.

So today I found a dress and they wanted measurements.

I wonder what my waist is.

I pulled out the measuring tape.

Where exactly is my waist?

Do I measure over the pudge or above it?

I can definitely find my hips though.

I must be measuring all WRONG. My measuring tape is broken! Or I need to stop thinking about things and start running toward Johnny Depp again. This is a nightmare!

Saturday, December 5, 2009

But MOM, I need to bother you every two minutes

to make sure I'm still breathing? To keep me from taking more than two deep breaths? Why do these children keep calling me when it's OBVIOUS that I've shut myself in my room? I haven't gone anywhere. I'm laying on my bed in the dark enjoying a silent night moment after Christmas shopping, playing free taxi service, and cutting out 72 Gingerbread Men.

Here's a list of the things they found were so important that they had to run up the stairs and come in to turn on the light and tell me, or yell "MOM" twenty times from downstairs until I couldn't take it anymore:

MOM, where's the milk? Oh, it's in the fridge of course.

MOM, Haley gave me an evil look!

MOM, can I have a cookie?

MOM, can I sit on the couch and read a book?

MOM, I need a ride--in an hour.

Mom, I forgot how to butter bread. Can you show me?

Mom, I found this used popsicle stick that WAS MINE in Haley's room. She's stealing my trash.

Where's the Christmas Spirit people? All I want is FIVE WHOLE MINUTES to myself. The funny (but not really) part is that I feel so ALONE all the time since he left. But I am alone--in my head.

Friday, December 4, 2009

If you combine my hatred of weddings with my dread of Facebook's influences on how we interact, you get the story of the groom who stopped his wedding to update his facebook status. While this does not shock me, as Facebookitis creeps through our social structure, eroding the core ways in which we think about our relationships with others, it still just gives me the creeps.

The logic these days is that if it doesn't happen on Facebook it's not REAL. If you don't post that your boyfriend is cheating on you, it didn't happen. If you forget to tell the world that you're vomiting repeatedly and hugging the bathroom floor then it's just all in your head. If you hate your job, your family makes you crazy, or you are dying of boredom then everyone must know or it won't count.

But if everything on Facebook is REAL then I am a lesbian, I'm very confused and overwhelmed ALL THE TIME, and I have a canoe and an ARK. I drink alot of wine, I'm forgetful and I live with a puppet.

Okay, that doesn't necessarily prove my point.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Ow My Boob Hurts

I think I pulled a muscle in my boob yesterday. Don't laugh. It's not funny. I made a grocery list. Then I lost it before I left the house. I searched for it everywhere, but left without it. Then I got a basket instead of a cart, cause I hate using carts in our little grocery store cause there are only two. Then I got more and more HEAVY things until the basket was too full. And I could carry it with one hand (the other was holding a gallon of water) but it pulled something in my boob. Then 4 hours later I found the list in my pocket.
Now I need some boob physical therapy and I am NOT going back to that surgeon who stuck that big needle into my hip without telling me what it was because no one is sticking a foot long needle into my boob.
I'm just going to keep holding it and saying "My Boob" at work today. No one will even notice.
And I'm too old for baskets at the grocery store. Next time I'm going straight for the motorized carts.
At least now I have an excuse for not helping the kids. When Haley says Go get my backpack from my bedroom Mom while I put on my shoes, I can say No My Boob Hurts. Or when Emily keeps calling my name to come check out some stupid video on the computer about a photo booth I can say that laughing makes it hurt more, so no thank-you. Or when Gina pushes me away when I'm trying to hug her, I can complain about my aging body and how I'm going to die soon and she'll feel bad that she didn't show me some love.

On a small tangent: It is a sign of EXTREME LAZINESS to call my cell phone as I sit in the living room from the house phone that you carried to the upstairs bathroom to tell me you're out of toilet paper.

And why was my box of sugar in the bathroom medicine cabinet? I still haven't figured that one out. If anyone knows please leave me a comment.

And You Live in a Crazy House is not an answer.