Tag Archives: The Rockstar

A new life…

3 Jan

I took the past year off. From a lot of things. From my music to singing to guitar. From things that made me happy. Like writing. I didn’t do this on purpose of course. I did it without even thinking. It’s been a year. A lot has changed in the past year. And in many ways, nothing has changed.

My e-pen to e-paper writing skills are still a bit e-rusty, so this post should be short. Sweet perhaps, but maybe a bit salty too.

My beloved mother passed away on 12/27/13 – for those of you that haven’t read or knew about this – just recapping. She was quite a woman. Solid, humorous, outrageous – with a huge sparkly personality only outmatched by her love of huge sparkly jewelry. I did sing at her service, and while (to me) it was out of tune, and I sang through tears in my throat, it was really just for her. And it was OK. The rain that January day let up enough for us to send balloons up to greet her. The message on my balloon was simple: “I’ll never forget you.”

On Memorial Day, I planted the seed paper we gave at the service along with her ash dust. On Labor Day, she bloomed.

Mom flowers
Us 006Rockstar stood next to me at every change.

Held me close and made me believe in hope.

His life took an amazing turn in 2014. With his life rising from the ashes, my phoenix and I made plans to start ours afresh.

We took the next step and moved in together just after our 3rd year anniversary trip to Hawaii in June.

Since then, we’ve settled into “new couple” patterns. You know, kissing and cuddling, bickering over chores, cooking together, and dog duty.

The usual shenanigans. It’s been a hell of a ride. A good one. A very happy one!

I spent most of the summer getting a tattoo of all things. It all started when I decided to tattoo my mom’s thumbprint somewhere and ended with a pretty big back piece. Ain’t gonna lie, this hurt a LOT. The thumbprint is actually inside a frame on my lower left thigh.

After I sold my mother’s house, and paid off her debt, and split what remained, I started asking myself what I should do with my share. What she would want me to do. Well, she’d want me to invest in a face lift, I’M SURE, but that’s just not my way. However, Botox is something that I can always get behind.

She always said she loved talking with me about stuff because I always listened to her and gave her good advice. I think she’d be proud that I’m using her legacy to go back to school to get a degree in Psychology. I start on Monday (Jan 5). Wish me luck because while I took the past year off from some things, work isn’t one of them.

2015 will bring a lot of change for me. I turn 50 this year. I have wonderful friends who fill my life with laughter. I have the most loving man whose smile lights up my day. I have memories, voice mails, and maybe a video or two of my mom and while I can’t quite yet listen or watch, they are there for me when I’m ready. In the meantime, I can and will squeeze every ounce of life from and to this life I have now.


I have agoraphobia…

2 Mar

I might as well be as I’m afraid to leave the house on weekends. Wait, what? Did I just expose a phobia to you?

No, I’m lying. Sorta. You see, this is the fourth weekend IN A ROW that I’ve got custody of the kids. And by kids, I mean my yorkies.

Let me explain… I love and miss my dogglies and when they aren’t here I want them cuddled on my lap, and yet, when they are here, I’m completely housebound. It’s like this… I signed a lease for this condo with a NO PETS clause.

Which means, I’m sneaking my ankle biters into this condo and crossing my fingers and closing their muzzles so he doesn’t find out.

Which means, I’m afraid to leave them here unattended. I picture a constantly yapping pair of pooches scratching the paint off the front door, their tiny little paw-nails gauging grooves into the wood.

Let’s not even fathom the likelihood that OG (that’s old guy, aka Buddy) will pee all over the hardwood floor, his urine acids seeping into the grooves.

So this means, for the fourth weekend in a row, I’m housebound. In a small condo, just busting to get out.

There are however two upsides:

1) The Rockstar stays with me and shares the doggie doody duty.

2) I get to cuddle my three boys (2 yorkies, 1 human – all boys) whenever and as often as I want.

So I’m not actually complaining, but I do have a new pair of L.A.M.B. stilettos that are itching for a night out on the town. I do, after all, have some priorities.

2011 in review…

31 Dec

If this was 2011, what the fuck will 2012 have in store?

Fuckety McMutherfucker. Yes, I just said that. And it fits the year in review.

Started out 2011 proclaiming I will rock my inner Xena, not taking shit anymore and fighting with some badass gladiator heels to boot.

I had drinks with a dildo model, started questioning everything, shared a shockingly funny story involving a big ole black dong, got my stilettos posted on a vodka website, went to a charity ski event and table top danced with a hot, young actor, found out some guys think it’s perfectly okay to share erectile dysfunction over morning coffee, told everyone how I got my brother arrested, and how my friend has a dominatrix in the family.

And that was all BEFORE I ran away from home in June.

Since then, I put BoldlyMocking on hiatus and created this blog, as a way to share my rebirth.

So since I left, here’s what’s been going on:

  1. I crashed with Juli for a week
  2. I realized I didn’t just leave my husband, I left my dogs
  3. I started dating the Rockstar
  4. I moved into a room in someone’s house, without a kitchen mind you
  5. I started paying attention to everyday sounds, like traffic, and wind
  6. I realized I didn’t mind killing my own spiders, but I still don’t like it
  7. I decided I was spiritual, if you can call reading my Sagittarius horoscope spiritual
  8. I realized I hate night sweats, and errratic visits from Aunt Flo
  9. I saw my doctor about sharp pains in my head and realized I wasn’t actually crazy
  10. I got lost on a hike and realized it was okay
  11. I decided I didn’t hate cigars
  12. I wanted an urban lifestyle
  13. I decided the urban lifestyle came with drawbacks and homeless people
  14. I moved into a suburban 790 sq foot condo with out-dated appliances
  15. I defended myself against the friends who judged me unfairly
  16. I found out the hubby is dating (and she’s an ‘older-shorter-fluffy-36D-girl’)
  17. I bought some risque “stuff” online and my neighbors received it
  18. I started to find myself despite the chaos
  19. I realized the hubby is still not ready to talk to me not to mention see my face
  20. I decided I quite like that the Rockstar is living on a sailboat in the SF Bay
  21. I moved into a 790 sq foot condo with fanfuckingtastic appliances

Thanksgiving and Christmas were special to me this year. Both were relaxed events, unlike the past and as I laid my head on my Mom’s lap on Christmas night, I felt a sense of peace and calm I can’t remember ever feeling.

I’m still scared. Having been married to the hubby for almost a quarter of a century, every experience feels bittersweet. Even now as I type this, I think back to 1:45p today, when the Rockstar and I were on our way to the cabin and we passed the hubby and his girlfriend. Picture slow-mo heads turning and eyebrows raised.

If I had one word to describe 2011 it would have to be REMARKABLE.

Fore and aft…

1 Nov

As most of you know, I like to spend time with The Rockstar. He makes me laugh, keeps me sane, and boy, can the boy cook!

One of the very first conversations we had was about his wet-dream to sail around the world. He’s been charting this course for years and has spent a lot of time watching boat porn and chatting with other like minded seamen yachtsmen.

When he first told me he wanted to move out of his place in Berkeley and onto a boat in the marina, I took one look at said boat and small kitchen and told him “hewl nao”. I mean, y’aint gonna get this girlie in that galley. I’d rather walk the plank. Of course, I’d be wearing rubber soled stilettos but still.

But like most waking dreams, this one is about to go live. He found a much nicer 34′ sailboat, named Mis Demeanor or Mis Defiance or something equally fitting, and he’s battening down the hatch and fixin to move aboard.

The thought of adventures on the high seas, or at least the SF Bay, are starting to sink in. (Anyone counting the metaphors here?) There’s nothing more awesome than sailing under the Bay Bridge and nothing more beautiful than the North Bay and its fog-enshrouded rolling hills.

Looks like I’ll be rigging up some sheets and turning the wheel in his cockpit very soon indeed.

I’m very much looking forward (aka fore) to this. When life presents opportunities, you better take them. Regret is a bitter pill usually taken with massive amounts of alcohol. Well, I never minded the massive amounts of alcohol but you won’t see this girl swirling into an abyss of regret.

Tip toeing away…

17 Oct

Maybe they won't notice...

“Marriages don’t die with a bang. They quietly tip toe away and are gone before you know they left. Marriages die slowly under the gradually rising wave of distracted indifference.” I read this in Psychology Today and it’s very true. I just didn’t know how distracted I was and didn’t notice it tip-toeing away.

So anyhoohaw… last Thursday I went to the hubby’s house to pick up the dogs for a nice long weekend at the cabin with The Rockstar. (It was fabulous by the way! So much relaxing, hot tubbing, and cuddling with the furries!!) Now, the hubby warned me in advance that his new “roommate” was going to be moving in. You see, to offset some of my “living on my own” expenses, we both agreed that he’d have to rent the Guest Room at the house.

So he did. Rent the room that is. To a 28 year old woman. I met her. She’s shorter than me (I’d hate it if she were taller), about my size (which means she’s very thin) with long blonde curly hair. Did I mention that she’s 28 years old?

It got me thinking about how I feel about some woman living in my house (ok, technically it IS my house (half anyway) even though I don’t live there anymore). I mean, this woman is using my desk, playing with my dogs, and she’s got stuff in the kitchen too. So yeah, not sure how I feel about this new “situation.”

Speaking of stuff in the kitchen…

Last night I went back to the house to drop the dogs off. I told the hubby I’d be there around 5:30p. He asked me to text him when I was a couple exits away, so he could leave and not see me.

Yes, folks – the hubby doesn’t talk to me on the phone. Hasn’t seen me since I left 4 months ago. We talk via text and email. It works for now.

So I pull into the drive and I can see the kitchen lights on, the hubby leaning on the kitchen island counter with a glass of wine, and a bottle on the island.

I think to myself “Oh, wow. He must be ready to face me.

I gird my loins, check my lipstick (I am vain after all), grab the dogs, and walk in the front door.

I’m literally one foot in the doorway and call out “Hi There!” and I get no response.

What? Did he disappear?

Instead, I hear “Ohhhhh, hi Sparky” from the kitchen. From the new “roommate”.

Who, just as obvious, was drinking a bottle of wine in the kitchen with the ghost of my hubby.

I lifted my foot back out the door, closed it quietly behind me, and tip toed back to my car and left.

As I drove back to my condo I realized I wasn’t the only one who’s been tip toeing away. There appears to be a pattern here…

Finding my nemo…

12 Oct

Stealing some inspiration from SingleMomDate, whose last post was a top 10 list to a happier life, I’m gonna do likewise. With the focus of course on how I’m ‘finding me’ 4 months after I split from the hubby.

You see, when I left, my goals were simple: kill my own spiders, figure out what was going to make me happy, take time for me.

The path to enlightenment is not always a straight line. OK, I do kill my own spiders (except for the Daddy Long legs in my shower, cuz he’s waaaaay up in a corner and not bothering me), but I’ve been a bit busy with setting up the new life to figure everything out – yet. Anyhoohaw, here’s what I’ve learned, my top 5 new things about me:


1. I suck at math

I am pretty enterprising. I can alter my clothes and have a great eye for things that are uneven, but don’t ask me to figure out how to hang something on a wall. Yeah, measure twice and all that bullshit, but the reality is, I have no idea how to divide uneven numbers with fractions. The putty covering my mistakes is proof of that. But while I recognize I suck at math, I now know how to hide a hole in the wall. WINNING.

2. I look for problems

It’s a strength and a weakness, but one that is necessary at work. I have business partners who are dreamers. They want to build the Taj Majal on this website and while that would be perty darned amazeballs, it will take us longer to build than it took Michaelangelo to paint the Sisteen Chapel. What I’ve learned is I’m a good forecaster and I can articulate the problems we’d need to solve. For this, I get gold stars at work. In my personal life, it’s kind of a Debbie Downer. One thing at a time babycakes.

3. I have good taste

When I decorated my big ole house, I consulted with a designer on my color palette. Earth tones and rich hues are my gig. Still are now that my condo is coming together. I’m sitting at my kitchen table (mahogany wood with 4 suede chairs – each a different color: sage, cinnamon, taupe, rust) admiring my flower arrangement which complements my table and the ‘art’ on the wall. The art is a hodge-podge of decorative plates. Yes, plates. I thought my style would be different now that I’m separated from his influences, but in reality, I have realized it was my influence the whole time. I haz good taste.

4. I like the silence

I spend a lot of time with The Rockstar and am finding that waking up early in the morning is good for me. In the past, when I’d wake up (sometimes at 4am and not able to sleep), I’d be restless and angry. And while I don’t have those stressed out early wake up calls anymore, getting up and sitting on my patio, drinking coffee while The Rockstar is sleeping is a sort of peaceful thing for me. I listen to the birds, the breeze through the trees, and reflect on me. So silence is welcome at this stage. *shhhh*

5. I don’t have to do it

I’ve been told I’m like a cat. Easily distracted and gone the next minute. I’m used to getting shit done. Right then. Oooh, laundry is ready to be folded *runs across the room*. Oooh, need to pick up my mail *grabs mail key and runs to the mailroom*. But I’ve found that it’s okay to wait. I don’t have to do everything right now. I want to paint a couple walls here but am allowing myself some time to figure out which ones and what colors. I needed to hang a shelf for my dresser lamps, but it’s okay and can wait. And while the dishes absolutely should be done shortly after using them, it’s okay to let them dry in the rack. That’s what I call learning to live in the moment.


Thinking about how my life is changing, I expected a big bang *boom* life change. It hasn’t happened. Yes, my living situation changed big bang, but me as a person, it’s happening more slowly. And that’s okay – it’s a bit like sailing I suppose. The journey requires tacking when the wind changes, correcting the course as needed, and not getting hijacked by pirates.

Ummm - Squeeeeee??

I don’t know where this journey will end, how long it will take, or what I’m gonna find along the way.

But for now, I’m just happy to set sail, find my nemo, and live happier ever after.

**I will not be defined or confined. Ever. Again.**

My personal shopper…

19 Sep

I workout every morning from 6am til 7:30a then do my Wonder Woman thing (as The Rockstar calls it) so I’m all perty girlie and work ready. I work full-time and there is always something ‘to-do’ after wards. Groceries, martini’s, dinner. Whatnot.

So I shop a LOT on line. Overstock and Amazon are my go-to sites for quick and easy purchases. And if you’re buying something well, rather personal, the delivery guy just leaves it discreetly on your porch.

That is, until you move into a condo.

You see, packages left in a doorway at a condo or apartment are subject to theft more often than those left at private residences. Good to know – NOW!

I’ve met my neighbors: Upstairs, it’s Tubby Ted and his wife (wtf is her name?!?). Next door is Jean, her hubby and their yorkie CoCo. Above them is some terribly unfriendly woman with a weinerdog.

I have no suspicions any of my neighbors would steal my packages. They all seem like fine upstanding folk.

Wipe that smile off your face, Brown...

What I do wonder however is whether any of my neighbors know what’s in packages THAT THEY SIGN FOR WHEN I’M NOT HOME. Hewl, I don’t necessarily have a problem with the UPS man knowing what I’m buying, it sorta explains the smile and urgent knock on my door. I just don’t want my neighbors to have any clue about what I’m doing. Except when I’m outside smoking a flavored cigar. Or walking around my bedroom nekkid. But that’s a story for another post.

Anyhoohaw, turns out UPS delivered something a little special today, maybe just a wee bit naughty and holy shitballs batman, fuckety fuck if Jean didn’t sign for my package.

First thought other than “fucking A, finally it shows up” is “dear lord baby hayzeus, please tell me the return label doesn’t indicate it came from Candy Land or some shit”.

I guess tonight I’ll find out if I’ve been found out.