15 January
So yesterday was Molly's birthday party, and you can tell that she is getting older and more mature, since the Traditional Birthday Hysterics was just a couple of tears at the table and a couple more at bedtime.
Perhaps when she turns six there won't be any! Then again, perhaps not.
I know that I say that time isn't passing rapidly, that the kids aren't shooting up,but sometimes I wish that I could hold onto this age a little longer. Bonnie is so funny, and Katie has become a really fun person to be around, but still a kid, and Molly...I'm just so afraid of losing the thing that makes her special, that it's a kid thing rather than something she will carry on through life.
Please, God, don't let her be ordinary.
After the party, we watched The Matrix on their new DVD player (no, not one of Molly's presents), then the kids went to bed and Jon went home and Cynthia had a nap and Fran and I sat and talked until midnight, when he decided that it would be a good idea to watch Get Carter, his Christmas present from me. So he got Cynthia and we did.
This is why this entry wasn't up when it should have been, I was up 'til 3a drinking and watching Michael Caine be sexy and violent! It's not my fault!
And boy was he ever sexy and violent. A very different film, a very different character than the remake. There is a scene that is about the hottest scene that I have ever seen, where Carter calls his mistress, Britt Ekland, and has phone sex with her, but it's not her writhing and clutching her tits that was hot, it's him sitting absolutely still, telling Britt what he's going to do to her and all the while staring at his landlady with that hooded, unblinking gaze, and she's pretending not to be listening, but she's rocking her rocking chair faster and faster.
I wonder if I'll ever have sex again? It's creeping up onto 11 years, and one can only imagine that when it's been so long...I mean, there comes a time when you have to stop making excuses for circumstance and realize that it just may have something to do with me, that there is something about me that is completely off-putting.
Or is it like Cary Grant never winning an Oscar? You cannot say that he never deserved one over the course of his career, but every year there was always a performance or a couple of performances that people liked better than his.
Is it that I consistently fall for the one man who doesn't want me? Are my sights set too high? I mean, if I stood in the middle of the street and called out, I could probably find someone who wanted to do it, but I don't really think that counts.
It's not as though every man I want is completely out of my league, I have fallen for the unconventionally attractive as well as the model handsome, and in fact the former is a deal more likely than the latter, but it seems not to matter who I choose, who I want, the last thing they ever are interested in is me.
I know that this sounds whiny, but it isn't, trust me, after eleven years (well, eleven years in April) it's just stating a simple fact. Man, even if I could just kiss somebody, it doesn't have to be sex, that would be so sweet that I would probably start to cry.
I must be ovulating.
And we are still talking about our height, things that nobody else thinks is funny, worrying about looking silly, missing planes, how to look older, New Year's Eve, our New Year's Resolutions, dying our hair all kinds of colours, Disneyland, and what we got for Christmas.
Today's horoscope:
Mechanical items are involved in the financial picture. Repairs are possible. If shopping for a new object, check it out carefully.
One year ago today:
I would have opened a vein if my blood wouldn't have just frozen.
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Last Updated Tues 16 January 10:06:09 2001