Praying for Strength

The past couple of days has been a wash. I don't exactly know what that expression means or if it's even appropriate for what I am trying to convey, but it sounds right.
I feel like I have been put through the washer and dried on high heat. You know, the really hot kind like when you take your jeans out of the dryer right away and the buttons burn your fingers.
Two months ago I lost a dear friend, my brother Drummer Man. I won't go into all the details because that seems to be the energy source behind the spin cycle that is making me bump my head into the sides of the washer.
Drummer Man touched a lot of people and just when I thought I was done consoling others I've had to dig deep. A very nice young man by the name of Wiggles (for reasons I won't disclose) was very touched by Drummer's spirit. No problem, except that he works for the L.A. Times. He's writing a front page story.
It's nice and all and I feel that I must contribute or regret it for the rest of my life, but I just didn't want to. I did though.
Now that it's done, I feel a huge weight is off my shoulders, but now, everything but my shoulders is spinning wildly, getting tangled with the dirty socks. I just hope that most of this comes off in the lint trap.
Flop

Babies, babies everywhere, nor anyone for me..

Signs, signs, everywhere signs.
Well 2007 held a lot of signs that it was not time for a baby. 2008 however, a different story. My favorite being the drunk cab driver who chose the seat next to me in the bar a couple of weeks ago. An empty pool hall the size of a small Cosco and this guy chose the seat next to mine. It took a while to learn the language he was speaking, but after about 10 minutes, he started telling me about his younguns'. Grown of course, thank goodness since their dad was wasted in a bar on a Sunday night. His conversation kept curving back to him telling me not to wait and that having kids are the most wonderful things ( I had not told him that I was waiting ). Earlier that weekend someone reminded me that you should always be nice to strangers, you never know who might be an angel.
Here's where it gets tangled. The most important factor in the fright is the financial aspect. I don't even own a dining room table. Odd seeing as how Vanilla is a chef. Something else that scares the begeezes out of me are the dreams. Dreams all the time, about babies. Maybe they are a bit more prolific lately because we just spent time with P.W. Dreams are fine and dandy, but when the subject matter of the nightly infant wanderings is forgetting to feed the baby and not remembering where I left it, it's kinda scary.
Talk about mixed signals.

That's five tardies

It is now secret that those who wear flip flops don't like mornings, but I am definately the definition of the late sleeper. Maybe working at a bank was not the smartest idea. Getting to work has been difficult, but survivable. However, since moving from four minutes away from my job to 54 minutes away has been nightmarish. ugh. I have taken to eating breakfast at work, after putting on my makeup in the executive bathroom. It's not so much executive than public. Well this morning was like the 10th time I was late in like eight days. So the point being, please forward an ideas for a job that pays a lot of money and you don't have to be there till 4 in the afternoon and out by seven. I would really like a creative outlet with lots of time to balance my checkbook and keep up with personal emails. All ideas would be appreciated.

Sleepy, sleepy

Well, after a long day of work at job #2, I have realized something.. I'm tired. Maybe I stayed up too late, but 2:30 am is survivable. More than likely it was the party next door that went on until the sun came up. I can't believe I wasn't invited. More than that, I can't believe that I live next door to people who are able to do that.
People from all over the country flee from their snowy homes to this part of Florida so they can spend their twilight years playing golf and enjoying the early bird special at Perkins. But somehow, we managed to find an apartment complex where I am considered aged. How did this happen.
I think that another aspect of my weariness stems from Vanilla. I appreciate notification of his arrival home, even when I have just dozed off between thumps from the adjacent party. However, I am not sure if my grunts and snorts should be so easily mistaken for an invitation to a conversation.
Off to rest. Flip.

I had a dream, but then the phone rang

As the country celebrates the birthday of a great civil rights leader, I am celebrating a day off from work. My plan was to sleep in, see a movie, read a book eat lunch at a quaint bistro, go shopping, hang pictures on the wall of our new apartment, finish the last two seasons of theWest Wing, work out and a run a few other errands.
Seems Murphy has thrown his law in my face once again.
As Vanilla had to work this morning, he left me sleeping soundly in the bed. Moments later, the phone rang. The blue bomb wouldn't start. vvvrrrrrvvvvrrrr.
Sleeping in, done.
Quaint Bistro, nope.
$160 at the auto shop later I suppose I will just do laundry.

Running Late

Well, I thought that my posts would be a bit more frequent than this, but I had to take a break. Last week Vanilla and I had to cover our toes for a trip up to the frozen tundra known as Ohio. It was a happy visit with family. We had an addition to the family. Vanilla's brother had a son in December. His name is Pig Won't, aka PW. PW was baptized into the Catholic Church with Vanilla as his Godfather. It was very exciting and it got the the biological clock ticking. Tick Tock.
In other news, I am home alone as Vanilla is in the Bahamas. Hmph... He was lucky enough to go for a fun trip for work. In the meantime, flip flop is in the middle of a torrential downpour. Seems odd to have a hurricane in January.
Seems I am more tired than I thought.
Flip Flop out.

A New Year, A New Resolution and another blog

Welcome to 2008. As with everything in my life I am nine days late in my Holiday wishes.
I will introduce myself, I am Flip Flop. A lifetime resident of the Sunshine state, I choose to eternally expose my toes.
Scoop of Vanilla is my best friend, although he is anything but vanilla. We have been roomates for ten years and were married somewhere around 2004.

As I have not yet figured out the direction of this blog, I will leave you guessing on further details. But don't worry, it will all unfold and the layers of flip flop and scoop of vanilla shall unfold before your very eyes.

Blessings for the New Year,
Flip