Feb 112010
 


I was never good at hide and seek, because I’d always make enough noise so my friends would be sure to find me. I don’t have anyone to play those games with anymore, but now and then I make enough noise just in case someone is still looking and hasn’t found me yet. – Brian Andreas


Is it possible that you Lovies aren’t sick of me yet? I have been writing to you every weekday morning for six months now. SIX MONTHS. I worry that you sit down at the computer each morning, click on Momastery and think “Good Lord, she wrote AGAIN? Take a breath, woman.”

But then I tell myself maybe not though, because the truth is that I never get sick of you and your comments. I love getting to know you Monkees, you supporters, you little slices of hope who love me and each other for no apparent reason. You just keep showing up…and you make my days, my life, deeper and funnier and better.

I was hiding for a long time. Six months ago I started missing you, without even knowing you. Hiding alone is too quiet and boring and cramped, and the anticipation of being surprise found always makes me pee in my pants a little. I prefer just to make noise and get found on purpose. Thank you for finding me and helping me stand up and come out of hiding.

I would like to offer you a gift in return for finding me. Diane once wrote in a comment that “the most revolutionary thing you can do is introduce people to each other.” Yesterday, when Krystal said that she liked writing on her blog because it helped her keep memories, I thought – Krystal has a blog? I can’t think of many things I’d rather do than read Krystal’s blog. I want to get to know her better. I’d like to get to know all of you better, if you’re up for it. Sometimes we feel isolated at home or in the office or just in our panicked, jittery heads – and finding a kindred spirit online can be like stepping out of the rain and into a friend’s cozy house. For me, since the Lymie Mono has left me unable to remain vertical for longer than two hours at a time, online is the only way to visit a friend. I get a little scared and stressed, what with all my diseases and children, and visiting with you makes me less so. I’d like to know you better. And I’d like you to know each other better.

I was thinking, if you’d like the Monkees to visit you, would you leave the URL of your blog in the comments or email it to me? And if you don’t have a blog or are shy about yours, but you know of another blogger or a website that offers you a soft place to land, would you consider sharing it? I’ll make a list of Monkee bloggers and of Monkee Recommended Sites and post them here, so that when you need to call for reinforcements, you’ll know where to go.

In Monkee Love-

GByrd


PS. We have almost 40 inches of snow on the ground, and yesterday, due to blizzard conditions, it became illegal to drive. Craig stepped over the tantruming, bored-out-of-their-skulls children, put on his boots and said that he was going to “drive around and try to get arrested.” Then he proceeded to explain that he’d be “more likely to get fed and less likely to have to break up fights” in a jail cell than at home. That man is brilliant. All of this family time is making me miss the big house.


PPS. Tiffany and Heather M won our “Monkees in the Hood” contest. Free Hoodies coming your way! Comment or email your preferred sizes, please. Congrats!




Feb 192010
 

Hello Lovies.

It’s Friday. We made it. Inhale, Exhale.

Sister was over last night and we talked a lot about ya’ll. Also, she bought us pizza. She always offers to pay and I pretend to object and then sigh and sit back down quickly. It takes a big woman to allow her unpaid slave freeing Sister to spring for her family’s pizza…and I am that big woman.

Craig and I have rarely eaten out without Sister paying our bill. Usually, she’s not even with us. She just finds out where we’re eating, calls the restaurant, and takes care of it. The waiter comes to our table with a big smile (Sister is a good tipper) and says, your bill is taken care of. And we smile and leave. We have come to expect this. Occasionally, (and quite irresponsibly) Sister forgets and the waiter brings us the bill like we’re just any old family. We are, of course, horribly offended. Craig smiles patiently at the waiter, hands him back the bill and say, “Oh, there must be some mistake…we are The Meltons. THE. MELLLL-TONS.” And we all stare at the waiter wide-eyed, waiting for him to get it. The waiter usually stares back, places the bill on the table and walks away. Then we drive home and talk about how selfish and distracted from us Sister has been lately. We always forgive her though, because she’s family. But we make a point to call her immediately and tell her all about our embarrassing moment because it’s important to allow people the chance to do better next time.

This is not what I was going to write about today.

Here’s the Momastery haps. My Lymie Mono is sucking me dry. My very good friend, Erin, who is doing an amazing job over at Full At Last, reprimanded me recently for not getting enough sleep. She suggested that since bodies repair themselves during rest times, perhaps I should be sleeping past 4:30 am. She suggested maybe I post less often. Don’t be mad at her, she just loves me even more than she loves Momastery.

So here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m going to go ahead and post more often, which is pretty close to what Erin was suggesting. A little different maybe, but close.

Lv2run said she’s having a hard time on Saturdays, because she doesn’t have Momastery. Isn’t that something? We are starting to depend on each other and I love that. Tomorrow, in honor of Lv2run, Saturday will become Inspiration Saturday. Every Saturday I will post a special quote or a poem. I love poetry… it touches my heart and comforts and inspires me, and I want to share that with you. I’d also like to invite Chimmy, Momastery’s poet laureate, and other Monkee poets to share their work with us. Also, there are many Monkees who don’t consider themselves poets, but appreciate poetry so much that they have become passionate about sharing it. They are like beauty collectors….Diane comes to mind. So if you are a poet or a beauty collector, and you discover a poem, short story, or quote that you think would be perfect for Inspiration Saturday, send it my way.

FURTHERMORE. Many of you have requested more family pictures. I avoid posting pictures too often because this blog isn’t about my family, it’s about all of us. It’s about your family just as much as mine, and so I avoid too much of that based on principle. But here’s the deal. I’m usually excellent at sticking to my principles until I get tired. And I’m a little tired. So…starting next week we’ll kick off “Picture of the Week” day. Once a week I’ll post no essay, just a picture. And yes, yes, I am aware that when you ask for pictures of the family you really mean pictures of Craig. I’ll see what I can do. I think this new plan will work out well. Once a week- you get Craig, I get sleep. Good stuff.

Lastly, on Picture Day and Inspiration Saturday I am going to close comments. This is not because I don’t love your comments. It is actually because I am completely obsessed with your comments. It’s because I check the blog 400 times a day to see if you’ve left any new comments and I read and reread and rereread them and my kids are starving. I need to start feeding them more often during the day. They’re getting really skinny. I need to get a grip, Monkees, at least twice a week.

Okay. Check back this afternoon for your Cocktale with Adrianne. And tomorrow for some beautiful poems. And leave me a comment, please. My kids ate a lot of pizza last night so they should be fine till Craig gets home tonight.

Love you, Sweet Monkees.

G



Feb 212010
 

My dear friend Christy took me to get my first tattoo the year before I got all sober and suburban and normal. Just in the nick of time, thank God. I love my tattoo. When I’m in my mini-van it reminds me of my bad good old days and when I’m at church it signals to others that maybe I’m not as safe as you think, there, Missy. I like that.

The only problem is that I’m not at all sure what my tattoo says. When Christy and I went to get it, I was either completely wasted or royally hung over. I don’t remember which one. But based on the way I spent my time those days, there is a 100% chance that I was one or the other. Likely, both. So I didn’t do any homework. I just stumbled into the tattoo parlor with my Britney bleached hair and sequinced tube top and low rise frayed jeans and plastic neon green heels and asked for…you’ll never guess…Japanese characters on my lower back. Clearly, originality was not my main concern. It was either the Japanese characters or something tribal. I don’t even know what something tribal means, to tell you the truth. Regardless, I’m just grateful that I didn’t go with my third choice, which was a barbed wire arm band in honor of Pam Anderson. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Come to think of it, I actually remember purposefully applying a fake barbed wire arm tattoo to wear to a friend’s wedding one time. Lilly. Oh Lord, I think it was your wedding. Are you there, Lilly? Are you reading? So sorry, Lilly. Really sorry. Also, I’m pretty sure I forgot to get you a wedding present. I’m really sorry about that, too. I know it’s been like twelve years but I’ll send you something soon. Who else do I owe gifts to? Email me privately, please. Also Lilly, I think I was poorly behaved at your wedding. I’m sorry about that, too. I was grossly and recklessly overserved. I’ve been told that it was a lovely wedding. Just lovely, Lilly.

Anyway.

So I teetered into that DC parlor in those neon green heels and announced that I wanted “teacher, sister, friend” written on my back in Japanese characters. The artist looked me up and down and smirked a little and said “Cool.” And then he took me into the back room and Christy held my hand while he buzzed away. But the thing is that I don’t remember him, like, looking at a book or anything. And I don’t remember him looking Japanese either. So I’m not really sure how he knew what he was writing. I don’t remember caring that day because, really, all I wanted was a cool tattoo. I just thought of it like a fun new accessory to wear to clubs between my Wet Seal halter top and feloniously low jeans. And I worried much less about details back then. Now, however, I sort of wish I would have taken a moment to Google what I was preparing to permanently add to my body. Oh well.

Here it is.


I assume it really says something like “Drunk Fake Blonde Who Sleeps in a Tanning Bed.” That’s what it says if the dude was paying attention, anyway. Regardless, some things are better left unknown.

I’m getting a new tattoo soon. Bubba, just joking. Everybody else, I’m really not. Lou and Tattoo Tom voted for “Here I am” from Isaiah and I like them and trust their judgment, so I might go ahead with that. Plus, I get lost a lot so that tattoo would be especially helpful to me. This time I’m gonna get it in English though, just to be safe.

Are you Inked? If not, what would you get?

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