Year In Review

It seems to be the thing to do, a year in review....

Bad Stuff:

• Walked out on what could've been a promising career in order to save my sanity
• My friend Barry killed himself. I don't think any of us have recovered from the shock yet.
• Discovered there's a serious mould problem in this house. J and I have been sick since Sept.
• Lost my *fun* job in recycling a WEEK before Christmas. A hex on the scroogettes.
• TB decided to return to chaos, breaking his father's heart in the process.
• BF spent most of the year putting me through the emotional wringer.
• BF still refuses to deal with medical/depression issues that promise to be the end of us.
• My friend, Mystery Mama had her heart absolutely shattered, and well, when she hurts, so do I. Feel useless to help her feel better about anything. Want to go where she is, find the jerk and slap his pee-pee. He knows who he is. Coward.
• Ending the year unemployed and quite frankly, scared out of my mind.
• My cat Rastas ran away in July. She hasn't come home. I miss her.

Good Stuff:

• Ended a promising career, saving my sanity and health in the process
• Renewed an old acquaintance and made a new friend with whom I've had two fabulously hilarious lunches. I'm looking forward to many more.
• My hair finally looks like hair again, took almost 2 years for it to grow back
• Found the most fabulous hairdresser who always makes me look and feel 10 years younger. Nope, won't tell anyone who she is. The last time I had a great stylist, I told everyone. The result? Couldn't get an app't to see her most of the time.
• Lucy came to live with us. She's grey, adorable and full of attitude. Oh, and did I mention she's a little psychotic? I guess that's why most of the time we call her Lucifer.
• J joined a band of his own. He came home after his first rehearsal and announced with a smile that now he *gets* me. I'm so proud.
• J passed grade 11 and is actually putting some effort into his final year.
• Renamed the band, re-tooled the set lists, changed musicians. We officially rock.
• Grew the most incredible tomatoes and peppers this year.
• The summer was hot hot hot. I love that.
• Learned what Geronimo meant.
• Wednesday dinners with MBF (remember him? he's the one I 'heart' more than anything)
• Ran into an old friend and was happy to know he survived the hurricanes that hit the Cayman Islands where he's been living for the past 4 years. He seemed genuinely pleased to see me again. That must mean he's forgiven me. I kinda broke his heart many years ago--so much so that he called me a "nikasaurus" for a long, long time.
• An ex came into my workplace, with his new wife in tow. Felt better knowing I looked SO much better than she does. Meow.
• Am ending the year onstage, doing what I love best, with MBF. Made it through the year without ever crossing that line, but boy oh boy, sometimes it seemed that was easier said than done.
• Am beginning the new year, onstage, doing what I love best, with MBF.

There ya have it, the Reader's Digest version of HRG's year. There's more, and I will write more, but for now, well, let's just say there's no rest for the wicked. Small wonder I'm always tired.

HRG

The Delicate Art of Blogging

Ok, so I think I have this whole blogging thing figured out now. I think. If you want someone to read your words, then they'd better be about looking for love and/or getting laid. Of course neither is happening for Her Royal Grooviness these days. Why? Because I'm in a committed relationship. Some of my friends think I should be committed for staying. Especially the one who knows that I have it big time, in a big way, for another man. Oy, the guilt.


So, I think this blog will be the chronicles of my life, sometimes funny, sometimes as sad as I am, but always interesting. That's my intention, but then again, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I'll wager a long stretch of that road is paved with mine.

And the beat goes on.

HRG

Life, Love, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness

I have simply got to buy a new keyboard, the letters are all but worn off on this one. I was taught on a "blind" machine so you'd think after all these years, knowing where the keys are would be as automatic to me as breathing. You'd think. Then again, I have a tested IQ of 140+ and can't put a friggin KinderSurprise toy together. Seriously.

But I can sing. Or so I've been told. People pay me, well, me and my band, couldn't do it without those guys. We're pretty good I guess. We work a fair bit and in a town like where we are, gigs are few and very far between. Especially if you want to play straight ahead, kick ass, rock and roll. That in a town that thinks there are two types of music: blues and folk. I'd include jazz in there too, but really, those people are so pretentious. Well they are.

Not that I don't like the blues. I do, I do, I do! For awhile, a long while actually, singing them made me some pretty good coin and tons of great, albeit sometimes fuzzy, memories. I learned about dynamics singing the blues. They made me a better performer. They gave me enough credibility that I could finally do the music I wanted in a place that for the most part, didn't want to hear it. They brought me my very best friend, my soul mate, the man I actually 'heart' even though he annoys the hell out of me a lot of the time. I brought blues into his life and he reminded me that in my heart I will always be a "rock chick". It made both of us better musicians and performers. Sometimes we're like Will & Grace (even tho my best friend is straight) and sometimes we're like Pat Benatar and Neil Geraldo. I saw an A&E Biography on them and it was kind of eerie--they have that easy camaraderie, that quiet intimacy that MBF and I have. Like the song says...we belong, we belong together......

But alas, we are not. The thought is terrifyingly exhilarating, but circumstances dictate that it can't happen. Not right now. Trust me, my life is complicated enough already without adding stepping over the line to the mix. But the thought is always there, whispering quietly in my ear.
Good thing I'm a little hard of hearing.

HRG

Dazed and Confused

Yup, that's how I'm feeling these days. It's insane, the stress level here--and it's the quiet, underlying stress, the worst kind. I have a new addition to the household and it's not going all that well at all. I am, for the time being, a step-monster to a teenager who doesn't want to grow up, or do much of anything for that matter. I could write volumes on this, and who knows? I probably will. Cheaper than therapy by a long run.

For the sake of privacy, we'll refer to him from now on as The Boy, or TB (learned to master acronyms from the mistress herself, the Breakup Babe. check out her blog--she's fabulous!)

Anyway, TB is a difficult child, some of it beyond his control, some of it not. His mother drank and used drugs during her pregnancy. Now it's The Boy who will spend the rest of his life paying for it. FAS is not a trendy "syndrome", I realize that now. In studying, I've learned more about neurotransmitters that I ever thought I'd need to know. It's frustrating, made more so by the fact that he's learned the skillful art of manipulation. Oh and he's very good at it. Then again, he did learn from the best. His mother is the quean of manipulation. What makes it so sad is how TB looks at her through those rose colored glasses. I wish wish wish he'd just move away to be with her, then maybe he'd see and learn the truth for himself. Then I feel bad. What sane person would wish that much emotional pain on a child? Cruella DeVille. That's me.

Thing is, I've always been great with kids. Running a daycare was the most emotionally satisfying thing I've ever done! There's never been a child I couldn't reach. Until now. TB can't be reached because he doesn't want to be reached. He knows the difference between living in filth and chaos vs being in a warm, stable, loving home--yet he chooses the chaos. It's easier to get more attention when you're in an insane situation. He needs to be in a treatment facility for awhile--he needs more help that we can give him at home. There is a place in the city like that, it has a good reputation and better yet, a great success record in working with these kids. Somewhere in there is a good kid, it'd be a shame to lose him.

You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to his not being here this weekend. Just call me Cruella.

HRG