A Surprisingly Sane Blog

1. Picking boogers out of April’s nose.  It’s sick, but I just can’t stop.
2. The smell of skunks… ahhh, like perfume.
3. Popping Prozac.  Thank God for that shit.
4. Asparagus sauteed in butter and fresh garlic.  Heavenly.
5. Cleaning out from under my toenails.  It just feels so good.
6. Sniffing my armpits for odor.  Not because I like smelling ‘em, but because I’m paranoid about the men’s locker room effect.
7. Scratching other people’s bug bites.
8. Chewing my cuticles to bloody, gaping wounds that practically require stitches.
9. Popping zits.  Why the hell do they still keep tormenting me?  I’m an ADULT, for crying out loud.
10. Flossing so hard my gums bleed.  I seriously need to stop.

Come on, you have sick little pleasures, too.  ‘Fess up!

Current Mood: Mischievous

This message brought to you by:  Caffeine.

In my mug from the swing dance club… after pulling my hubby’s name out of a bucket and winning first place in last week’s competition.

Coffee.  Such a beautiful sight.

*sniffle*

It’s what gets me through the day.

Current Mood: Cool

I was lying in bed last night around 3:30 a.m. wondering if I should just get up and blog because my brain just couldn’t seem to shut the fuck off.

I hate manic brain.  It happens to me all of a sudden, and doesn’t matter if I’m exhausted or sick or if I’ve fallen off a cliff or just flown across the world.  Sometimes, it just decides to pop on the second my head hits the pillow.

Hi Tamra!  I’m here to drive you nuts while you try to catch some zzzzz’s!  Even though your kids and husband are all sleeping peacefully.  Well, you know, as peaceful as your flopping-around-ball-scratching-snorting-awake hubby can sleep, anyway.

Yeah, last night was one of those.

Finally, sometime this morning, I fell asleep.  Kind of, anyway.  It was the sort-of- “sleep” where your dreams are so vivid that you can’t tell if you’re awake in some other world, or if you are actually in your bed with your eyes closed.

The place I was in this morning doesn’t exist in Tucson.  But somehow, I’ve been there so many times before.  Once I’m there I think… ah yes, I’m back in this place.  It’s not a bad place, the people aren’t assholes or anything, but I always “wake up” wondering why I know that place so well.

I don’t know what happens when we die, nor do I have a set belief regarding the hereafter.  However, my Catholic upbringing does influence my deep-seeded faith that Christ is indeed the Son of God, and that He died so that we may someday rise again.

It’s that “rise again” part that throws me for a bit of a loop.  What does that *really* mean?  Maybe we really do just go on to heaven or hell.  Or maybe our soul carries on to another life.  As unsure as I am about what happens to us, I do know I truly believe that SOMETHING happens to our soul.

What else could explain the inexplicable knowledge that every culture, no matter how isolated or archaic, finds belief in at least one God and possesses a seemingly innate lore of an afterlife?

I have difficultly believing that it is simply coincidence that I feel like I’ve known some people beyond this lifetime.  Or that my daughter’s deep soulful eyes tell the story of just her 3 years of experience.  There is something more there, I can feel it.

Current Mood: Confused