Not so much looking fondly back as I am looking forward expectingly

I mean, not to sound ungrateful...because it could have been so much worse, I could have been stabbed with a rusty splinter, or hit by a car, or hell.. even robbed at gun point...none of which happened to ME, but you know what? This year pretty much sucked big fat hairy ones, and I would like to go on the record as saying Fuck you, 2009. Fuck you right in the ass.

On one hand, I got a big ol' raise because my jackass boss screwed me over last year, The Man finally retired from the Marine Corps, and I returned to school and am *this close* to graduating, I also went to Vegas a ridiculous amount of times, and met some of my blogger/twitter friends IRL.

On the other hand, I went to war with The Man over a "friend's" relationship, only to have her stab me in the back and force me to kick her ass out of my life (like Mary J. says no.more.drama). The Man, who finally retired from the Marine Corps has no idea what he wants to do with his life, is home 24/7 - which I've never had to deal with before. I returned to school and couldn't really afford it AND I can't use his GI Bill AND can only get a few dollars if he were permanently, totally disabled, or dead (really?! WTF VA?), and along with my raise came MORE WORK while my other fuckwit co-worker cries about how busy he is while spending most of his day trying to beat his friend's bejeweled score of one hundred million, and to top it all off, I found my neighbor whom I've known for freakin' 18 years and called my Auntie, dead and I JUST RECENTLY stopped crying every time I look at her house, which coincidentally faces mine, so every time I walk out of my front door, I see HER front door.

And this just the stuff that happened to ME. Not close friends who just found out their father has cancer, or whose sister had a heart attack, or have been laid off for the better part of 2009 and may possibly lose their house.

I'm not really sure who the fuck I pissed off in 2008 to make this year so relentlessly depressing. Oh wait, NOBODY - because last year I tore my Achilles and was off work for 3 months, while my jackass boss fucked up my paperwork, so I didn't get my disability money AND my husband lost his grandmother AND one of my best friends moved to freaking JAPAN - I actually was thinking that 2009 was gonna be my year because of how much 2008 sucked. Fooled my fucking ass. 2009, you pretty much sucked harder than 2008, and I didn't even think that was possible.

So I'm saying all that to say, so long 2009. Don't let the door knob hit you on the way out. It's been real, it's been fun, but it has NOT been real fun. Don't keep in touch, don't send me an e-mail to see how I'm doing now that you've moved on, in fact let's just pretend that we never met, hm?

And 2010? I've got my eye on you. I'm expecting rainbows and unicorns and a bunch of other really cool shit to happen this year. In fact, I refuse to accept anything less, so consider this a warning.

I'm ready for the new year and it's going to be motherfuckingfabulous. Or else.

My favorite gift

{W}rite of Passage

Every year for Christmas, I get a lot of "So, what do you want for Christmas?" And for many years, my answer has been nothing. As in, I have no special something that I've been waiting for somebody to buy for me. The things that I lust after are things that could just as easily be for my birthday as because it's Tuesday (I remember the year that I got a toaster for Christmas, it had 4 slots and I could toast BAGELS in it and I was just as excited about that as I was about the year that I got a diamond ring. I mean, I could toast BAGELS!)

I get much more excited about the receiving of gifts than I am the gift itself. But I love to GIVE gifts more. I like to think I'm good at it. Nothing makes me happier than finding something that I think would be perfect for someone. Especially when it is, and even though they hadn't thought of it, they open it and love it. And sorry, I give you a gift, I give you a gift. You don't get a gift receipt, and I very rarely give gift cards - unless I really have no idea what to get you OR you specifically ask for one.

In 2006, I don't know what wild hair I had up my ass, but I decided that I was going to get all crafty with it and MAKE most of my gifts. And I did. With varying degrees of success. I made my (much) younger cousin a recipe box, complete with recipes for random things that I thought she'd like to try(loved the recipe, hated the box). I made my father some vegan cookies or some shit (which he loved). This was also the year I decided to get brave and crochet a blanket or two to give away as gifts. My girl friend had been teaching me to crochet and had given me a fairly simple pattern that even I could follow using 3 different yarns to make a pretty thick blanket.

I remember thinking how my MIL, who was going through chemo at the time, was always SO COLD, and this blanket was going to be awesome because she'd have something that would be all hers and she's would finally stop complaining about being so freaking cold all the damn time. I went to Michael's where I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to decide what color yarn I was going to use, because OMG have you BEEN to Michael's yarn section? The colors, the types...I'm indecisive at the best of times, and I wanted to make something that she would like. So I called up The Man, asked for her favorite colors and settled on blue, green and white.

When I gave it to her, I said that I didn't want to hear she was freezing ever again, and tossed it in her lap. I think she was completely shocked that I had managed to finish such a large project. The only thing she'd ever seen me make was a scarf (which I still wear, thankyouverymuch). But I will say that I think she liked it. If she didn't, she hid it well. It was with her often, like her pink bandana. One was to cover her head and the other was to cover her legs. In my head, I thought that I'd see her with that blanket for a long time to come.

I didn't though. She passed away that next October. The day before her funeral, her grand-daughters (my brat included) approached my father-in-law and told him that at the viewing, something was missing. Gran-gran was always cold and she was missing her blanket - they wanted to include it. My FIL asked ME to include it.

I never would have thought the last time I'd see the gift I gave to her was as I placed it in her casket. I don't think I have enough words to describe how I felt, or what it meant to be asked to do this. I do know that of all the gifts I have ever given anyone, or ever gotten, this gift will always be remembered.



I'll apologize now for my somewhat sad story. I had no idea this is what I was going to write until I started writing it. But there you go. My most remembered gift isn't even a gift that I got, it was a gift I gave.

A rose is a rose is a FLOWER

I chose not to use my name on my blog. Because my name is unusual, and I have yet to meet anyone with it, so that means that if you google me, you will be SURE to find me. I use is my MIDDLE name. When I started writing, I told no one, and I didn’t post pictures of my face. I used my blog to say whatever I wanted – still do – but because I didn’t want to hurt feelings, I went undercover (see what I did there? UNDERCOVERMAMA? yes, my wit astounds even me sometimes). That way if I called a friend’s husband an asshole (and I have), the friend & I could still be friends, and I could feel better knowing that I’ve at least said it here, in what I consider my safe place, instead of one day blowing up and going off because I held it in because I couldn’t bite my tongue anymore.

I have written about my life here, and you have commented, and commiserated and you don’t even seem to mind that I am clearly ridiculous and slightly crazy. You like me, you really like me (sorry, I can never resist that line).

The lines got blurry. I went to a tweetup. I introduced myself as the name I actually go by, because really? Even though there is nothing wrong with Lynette, I only answer to my name (or Bitch…but that’s only if it’s a voice I recognize LOL). Then I added some of my twitter/blogger friends to my facebook (P.S. don’t ever EVER mention my blog there or I will hunt you down and spank you… and not the good kind of spanking either). I went to the Vegas Birthday Bash*. If I let you grab/graffiti my boobs, we should at least be on first name basis, don't you think? What started out as what some of my friends called “my invisible friends” became more solid… more real.

My blog became a more intergrated part of my life. The distinction I made between MY LIFE and MYUNDERCOVERLIFE grows thin because some of you have crossed over. There are IRL friends that read my blog. I actually make plans to meet up with by blogger/twitter friends (February? Do you think we could schedule bowling in FEBRUARY? That give everybody enough time to make arrangments for bowling?) My IRL friends and my invisible friends are just friends here. I love them just the same.

As for me? I'm just the same as I ever was. I'm undercovermama, I'm Briya Lynette. I'm just me.

*Vegas Birthday Bash pictures coming soon. REALLY.

Vegas Birthday Bash....

Not my birthday....

But who am I to turn down an invitation to hang out with some bloggers...and twitterpaters in Las Vegas.

I'm all packed...FINALLY, got my hair did, took my picture, got my camera and my cell phone (because how else am I going to drunk twitter/text?). I'm already on a plane.

And do you know what I'm going to do when I get to Vegas?

And this time, whatever happens in Vegas will probably be twittered all over the fucking place.

So I'm a freak and NOT the good kind

My husband and I cook in different ways. I make a list of what I plan to make for dinner for 7 days. I will check the kitchen to see what I already HAVE, so that I know what to get. (I had to start doing that after I started buying insane amounts of tomato sauce because I kept forgetting that I had some). Add in crap for The Brat’s lunch, which she takes because HELLO? It’s cheaper, AND she can have what she likes – hot cheetos and pears, instead of scary cafeteria food, and shit for MY lunch and we’re done. That list of what’s for dinner? Is now on the ‘fridge so that I don’t forget – because my memory is THAT BAD y’all.

The Man? Will dig around in the kitchen and throw something together that is usually pretty good. Awesome, right? I come home and dinner is already cooked. Most wives would be all grateful and “wow the house bitch husband made me some dinner”. Not me. I’m slightly pissed because he just used my jar of sun dried tomatoes (don’t ask) in a dish that he just threw together and that I NEEDED to make some random recipe I found in a cookbook that I HAD to try. I’M ALSO GRATEFUL, but still. You know I was going to use them for something, said so right on the ‘fridge. And of allll the groceries that I bought, why would you pick the most completely random – never been purchased before item? DUDE. WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING MY STUFF?!

And that’s when I realized it. I never thought of myself as a control freak, but maybe I am.

Even though (I think) I am fairly laid back...I am a list maker, a picky eater (I can NOT eat a salad that I did not make myself. REALLY), I will re-write something because it doesn’t look the way I want it to look, I wrap my friend’s presents for her because O.M.G is she a horrible gift wrapper, and every time The Man makes dinner and uses something that I bought for something else, I want to junk punch him. WTF is wrong with me?

I’m a control freak. ::SIGH:: There, I said it.

I’m so used to doing it all; I don’t let anybody do anything. I will do all the cooking, all the cleaning, all the laundry (because did you REALLY just fold my towels like that?). Because I feel like if I don’t do it, it won't get done. Because my kids are lazy assholes who also incur my wrath if they do it wrong not my way, so they stopped doing it. Until now. I’ve started making The Brat accountable for stuff, like dishes – because I don’t want to do them anymore. And I talk mad shit to the house bitch husband when dinner is not ready when I get home from work.

As someone pointed out recently, I don’t HAVE to do everything. And I remember….I was all excited when The Man retired because that meant I’d have help, so I DON’T HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING. Anybody seeing a trend? Yeah, me too.

I’m trying. But its hard, so very hard (yeah yeah…. #thatswhatshesaid). But I guess I don’t have to be in control of the universe, as long as I can still be the Queen.