Saturday

I'm trying to write an entry on this fine Saturday morning here in my office while J pounds away on his brand spankin'-new drum set...cymbals, snare, bass, more...the whole enchilada a mere seven feet away from me. He's been getting lessons from his uncle for several years and only this year did the thing kick in and he started banging on everything in his path, the tables, his desk, his chest, his books. Time to invest, you know?

Writing with this crashing sound behind me is amazingly impactful on my ability to make an ounce of sense. Perhaps, though, it's less the noise than my own simmering anxiety as if something's due and I haven't done it. Last night even I dreamt again about that old boss of mine, that he wanted me to mail a Christmas present to his daughter (a fried egg and a piece of chicken in a take-out box). I took it from him, egg yolk dripping down the side of the box, and went home to make a new egg, which I did and which I put into the box, setting the box aside while I went on with my life, worrying about having to get to the post office. From there a slew of interruptions prevented me from mailing the gift, days of interruptions. Stupid, I know, but the stress was real. I shouldn’t feel this way. I finished everything for school so now I'm off for the summer. Things should be like the open road, no distractions, "smooth sailing."

And yet...

I'm certain it's the stress of changing medications for A who's been really up and down with his moods, lots of crying, unable to sit and do any work for school without total meltdowns, etcetera. We're stopping the antidepressant and moving onto a mood stabilizer, a stronger medication, a different sort. It worries me, it stresses me out. The other day I dreamt about snakes being everywhere...millions of them all over the house.

Stress.

Good news was hearing that my oldest child is indeed as "smart" as we thought, testing grades higher academically and in the gifted range intellectually (we knew that...don't all parents "know" it?) which of course means that his low grades in school are fixable. I was relieved there. I have no doubts his sister is very similar as she's a lot like him, they talk the same amount (non-stop), they are very social, they're clever and funny.

Perhaps with school out of the way, I've freed myself up to stress over A. Maybe that's it, maybe school was my distraction.

Forgive me for being so self-absorbed these days. On that note, here are some more 100 things. For fun, for distraction reasons.

65. I’m actually very funny. I can write funny, I can tell funny stories…no, really. I’m funny when I’m not stressing. If I’m angry about an issue, or stirred into a passion, I can crack wise like nobody’s business. Ironically, I used to comment to my mother about her lacking a sense of humor. Now I know who I take after because stress used to bring out my father’s sense of humor.

66. I tend to hyper-focus on something I’m doing and “into,” whether it’s writing, reading, watching a program, listening to a program on the radio, conversing with someone. You’ll have to tap me to get me to turn to you if you’re trying to tell me something.

67. I’m not a girly-girl. I go for comfort as opposed to style, choosing jeans and boots/athletic shoes to wear versus fancy anything. Jeans, jeans, jeans.

68. I have pierced ears and I would love, love, love to get my nose pierced but my skin is too sensitive and for sure I’d end up with problems and I’m way too vain to take any chances with something so plain on my face as my nose which is why I’ll never do any kind of plastic surgery, ever.

69. My sister reads my blog and couple of real-life friends, but nobody else I know personally.

70. Bliss isn’t my real name but Adriana is my real middle name and my maiden name begins with B. My first name I don’t like that much but my husband loves it and gave that name to my daughter as a middle name. My son A has my father’s name as a middle name, my first son has my husband’s name as a middle name.

71. My birthday is the same as Hugh Heffner’s.

72. Speaking of which, I used to like reading Playboy’s articles. The funniest thing I ever saw in Playboy, though, was how often these posing naked women would indicate that they wanted to work with children as a career. My sister and I found that so funny that every so often, in an instant of hysteria, we’d grab ourselves, pose, and hiss, “I want to teach nursery school!”

73. I’m a few-friends type of person – I never had more than a few friends at a time, sometimes even less than that. In fact, I’m really quite unsociable. Given the choice of going to a party where there’ll be many, I far prefer to stay home and read (or play with all my friends on the internet). That’s not to say I don’t enjoy spending time with people I consider to be friends – I love to do that. But don’t throw too many people into the mix or else I’ll retreat. This makes my husband crazy because he’s the complete opposite. He loves to socialize, preferring the socializing to not be very intimate.

74. I didn’t smoke marijuana until I was 37. I liked it. A lot.

75. I like to smoke cigarettes…except I don't inhale and if I’ve imbibed more than a few beers or cocktails, I’ll take a cigarette from my sister-in-law (Trouble in a Tank Top) and puff away Clinton-style.

76. I sometimes fantasize about being a famous writer, but I find my fantasy revolves much more on money rather than on “fame” or praise for my work.

77. I’m jealous over other people’s writing successes.

78. I’m happy for other people’s writing successes.

79. I love to dance free-style to all kinds of music – especially cumbias, hip-hop, rock. I love to feel the rhythms and beats and always feel sexy when I dance.

80. I love it when I have polished toe-nails and wear sandals.