Chinese Fortune Cookies

It's time for you to explore all those new interests.

Lucky Numbers 8, 12, 14, 17, 36, 43

Braving a torrential downpour yesterday, I ran to the local # 1 Chinese Restaurant in town and grabbed myself a pint of chicken fried rice to go with a complimentary fortune cookie for dessert.  The little guy behind the counter - always very pleasant to me whenever I'm there - smiled his big toothy grin, and wished me luck as I headed back out into the monsoon, which almost made me feel bad about not leaving a tip in the giant gold piggy bank sitting next to the side of the register. 

Keys poised and ready, I dashed out onto the sidewalk and quickly made my way to my car, intent on opening the door before I (a.) melted, (b.) suffered from severe rain/wind/hair damage, or (c.) got hit by a passing car, making the morning headlines of "Local Girl Loses Life in Bizarre Lunch Time Accident", witnesses said to have heard last words … "I should have paid extra for delivery …"

Needless to say, I made it back in one piece and locked myself in my office to spend the rest of my lunch hour, switching between bites of rice and turning pages of Harry Potter book # 3, of which I am now quite addicted.

But it was the fortune cookie that really got me. 

I've been dreading work lately, like the way you dread the end of a Sunday night, knowing that the next day is Monday and there's a whole work week ahead of you.  Every night is like a Monday night for me.  And I know I've got the almost 5 year itch.  The time during which I'm fast approaching my earned three weeks of vacation, and suddenly and for no apparent reason I'm ready to move on in another direction and try something else on for size, having bored myself beyond comprehension in the mundane tasks of daily strife around the water cooler, with the thought - both quite crystal and clear - that I want out.

I may have said this a billion and one times before, but around here there is no room for creativity.  A fact I just can't seem to get over as I sit here stuck in my little windowless cube of a room, wondering what the weather must be like outside.  (And now I'm wondering, what is the weather like outside?  Though I have to admit, stuck here as I am, I always assume it's rainy and cloudy.  Although I think that is just a clever foil to trick myself into not minding the fact that I spend 8 hours a day trapped inside a cave … Then again, upstate New York (not the City people) and I do mean Upstate, has more than it's fair amount of miserable, gloomy, no the sun in not going to shine today day's.)

I am digressing.  The cat on my workstation is swatting at computer butterflies and my phone - as usual - is ringing.  The sound of duty calls, and I - unfortunately - must answer it.

Book Worm

A quick post, and a tall glass of something cold, before heading back upstairs to continue reading ...

I've managed to get quite caught up in the world of J.K. Rowling. So caught up, I am about to start book 4 of the Harry Potter series, after only 3 days of reading.

Anyhoo, since my day was quite normal and boring in every way imaginable, I'm back to the book.

Toodles until tomorrow.

Cromagnum Man

Doug the Slug. As in the Doug I work with, and not the Doug I previously created life with over 8 years ago while sleeping - okay so not sleeping - in a tent in the back yard ...

Doug the Slimy Slug. Mr. Slick, Mr. Invades your personal body space, Mr. Stands directly behind you at the fax, Mr. Whatcha doing this weekend, Mr. Talks to your chest while drooling ... Or as I've come to favor, Mr. No chance in this lifetime or the next - cause I've yet to reach that milestone of completely desperate - and you really need to stop singing the Stacey's our girl song as people are starting to talk and I'm having a hard time dispelling the rumors if you favor your nuts much longer Doug ... That Doug. The harmless though frequently annoying Doug.

Today he came into my office - to stare at my boobs - and noticed I was reading Harry Potter. (And yes, I was at lunch for those of you who care about such things.)

"Oh. Are you reading this?"

"Absolutely not. I'm just holding it and turning the pages for something to do," I quipped. "I'm very bored."

Though he has not been invited, he pulls the chair out in front of my desk and takes a seat.

"Is it good?" he questions me, leaning back in the chair.

"I don't know. I'm not done," I drone out, ignoring him as I flick another page over.

"Is it better than the movie?"

"Considering most books are, I'd have to say yes," I said, marking my page with an orange index card, shutting it and laying it down upon my desk. Having come to the conclusion that he's not going to go away, I offer up, "Actually I'm reading it to KC. We're doing a chapter a night together before bedtime and I wanted to get a peek of tonight's."

He smiles a devilish grin and I can see the little wheels in his mind turning.

"You're such a good Mom," he says, as I wait for the tagline, instinctively knowing that there unfortunately is more. "I wish you were my Mommy, so I could snuggle up to you in bed while you read me a story." He pauses, licks his lips and locks his eyes once more on my chest before continuing. "How nice would that be? And to think, I wouldn't even have to run downstairs for a drink if I got thirsty."

One and one equals two. How sad I was to realize the way his mind was going. I groaned.

"God you're such a perv," I yell at him, shaking my head. But even though I am quite disgusted by the mental image that pops into my mind - for the merest of seconds - my sense of humor manages a chuckle. "There's the door, now get out," I say pointing towards the hall and waving him away. He laughs as he leaves, closing the door behind him, leaving me alone to resume my reading of Chapter Two, page 23.

Lubed Up

Little to report in my world of excitement and intrigue today, other than I finally did manage to take my car in for an oil change, 9000 miles or so after the fact. I wasn't even really planning on doing that today, my main objective just to clean the car, but Amy - and the fact that the oil light has been on for three days - convinced me not to waste any more time. And so woohoo and bully for me, one less thing to worry about tomorrow. Although now the guy at the oil store has put a new dilemma in my mind ... Evidently my tires are getting a wee bit worn out. (Perhaps I should stop taking corners the way I do ... Nah.) Oh well, brakes first, tires later.

Transitioning

Woke up early this morning to make KC her brownies to take to school. They didn't come out too bad considering I fell asleep on the couch while they were cooking and didn't hear the buzzer the first time it went off. Though they were a little crispy around the edge, I didn't feel too bad about packing them off to go.

KC's at her Dad's tonight and I've got my whole weekend free. Amy and I had been planning on going to see Grandma this weekend, but the hospital has decided to keep her around a tad bit longer. And since we can be more help to her when she is home, we have decided to wait on the visiting.

Meanwhile I had considered taking myself off for the weekend to places unknown, just to get away. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of a place I wanted to go that was close enough as well as far enough away from home. Truth be told, I would love to ask my Uncle Mark about going up to his camp for a weekend. There's no place I like better than a secluded Adirondack Mountain retreat, with a gently flowing creek beside it. Ahh ... Sounds like heaven.

In the meantime, I'll have to settle for my comfy bed and call it a night. Toodles all until tomorrow.

Somewhere Down a Deep Dark Well

Luciano sings my heart and comforts me when days go bad. And today has been bad. Bad enough to break out the Italian arias and sing with them full blast to relieve my soul of its irritation.

It's just a job. Just a job.

And yet today I lost my cool. Lost it to the point where I had to walk away from my phone, walk down the hall, past the reception desk, through the vestibule and outside, to take a breath of fresh air. Because I'd had enough. Just enough. Really quite more than enough.

Enough of the customers yelling and screaming at me for things I don't and can't control. Enough of lower level office staff pushing their egos a bit too far and way past my level of toleration. Enough of my boss who talks the big talk, but never seems to walk the big walk. Enough of a place where ethics are often misplaced. Enough of a job, which quite frankly if it didn't pay so well, I would have left a long time ago.

Violence does not work
except for the man
who pays your salary
Who knows
if you could still weep
you would not take the job.
~ Alice Walker

But it's the way of the world. Haven't we all learned that instead of sugar and honey, a little vinegar is what really helps you get your way? What is that other saying, some things are better in theory than they are in practice? Case in point. Game. Match.

But I wish that for just one moment, before someone lets something slip through their mouth, they'd take a moment to think before spewing their filth.

Words are dangerous creatures, unable to be called back once said. And even though you think, well she knows not to take it personally, this girl does, does take it personally. The girl who always does her best to get you what you need, the girl who is always pleasant and nice, the girl who you just ripped a new asshole. I bet you didn't think that when she went home she'd be carrying her anger with her. I bet you didn't think past the words once they made it off your tongue. But good God, am I still seething!

Enough. Enough. Enough. Home and job don't mix. I am off to bake brownies for KC's class picnic tomorrow. Damn if she refuses to heed my request to be the Mom who supplies the paper goods ...

Light Reading

Thanks to all, for your well wishes and your prayers.  Grandma is doing well, and just like her can't have any down time self, already planning on what she's going to do the minute she's released from the hospital.  Far be it that everyone in her family is practically falling over themselves begging for her to slow it down a bit and relax just long enough to recuperate fully.  Luckily stubbornness is a family trait, which means Amy and I will be heading North this weekend to help Gram around the house, mowing the lawn, and all sorts of other good stuff, whether help is wanted or not.  Or course, we'll do most of it on the sly … It is after all just a visit to visit.

On another note, I wanted to quote a passage from a book I've just finished.  It really reminded me of how things were in my relationship with Sean and - thank God - now I know it wasn't me just thinking everything was quite fucked up.  It really was quite fucked up. 

You Have to Kiss a Lot of Frogs by Laurie Graff

        There it was again.  Nothing that said this is great and nothing that said that this is over.  We walked south on Central Park West toward my apartment on 78th Street.  We walked in the relationship silence.  Not the good kind where you know you can't wait to get each other home and into bed, but the ambivalent kind.  The kind where one person has more power because they know they're the one who's holding back.  But they're not telling you their holding back, and since you don't really know this for sure, and you certainly don't want to make a big deal out of nothing and create a problem that may not even exist, you decide you're overly sensitive, paranoid, insecure.  All of the above.  You have no choice but to smile sweetly, keep your unspoken agreement in the relationship silence, and hope the other person will break it.  That any second it will be broken by him seductively pushing you up against the bricks of the next building, off to the side of the burgundy awning, gently moving his hands across your cheeks, pulling back your hair and tenderly, deeply, passionately kissing you and kissing you and whispering in your ear, "Let's get out of here.  Let's go home."  On the other hand, you could suddenly find yourself on 78th Street turning right to Amsterdam Avenue and wonder how you got there.

She was writing about me, I swear to God.  How many times had I plastered a smile on my face, all the while gritting my teeth as I told him again and again, "Sure.  Fine.  It's no problem," whenever he decided that he was too tired to keep our plans - even the plans that involved my daughter.   And it was frustrating, wanting to spend time with him and knowing that 9 times out of 10 he'd only end up disappointing me, leaving me with a countless numbers of tears cried into my pillow as I tried to smother the sound of my sobs. 

But then there were the nights when I was there - granted most of the time, I popped up on his doorstep before he had a chance to think of a reasonable excuse as to why I shouldn't come over - when we sat together in silence, television tuned in to the History Channel, until undoubtedly he fell asleep or pretended to be asleep - whichever came first.  And I sat there watching some show about who knows what, trying to consider my options and coming up with none.

The strong Stacey wanted to give him the what for, and itched to tell him what she really thought.  But the weak Stacey - the I'd really like to be in a relationship for longer than 30 seconds Stacey - didn't want to mess things up, and convinced the strong Stacey that things would eventually get better.  Of course no one was really buying that ...

Still you can only bend so far before you break and by May even I was about done with the romper room act boy blunder was intent on seeing through.  It killed me however to admit defeat.  It still kills me, if only for the very reason that I put up with it as long as I did when I could have stopped the bleeding the first time he pulled a temper tantrum.  But nope, I had to ride it out to the end, putting my faith in an ex-marine who hadn't done anything to earn it.  And I ask you, if you can't count on a marine, who can you count on?

So here I am writing this entry, my phone ringing off the hook beside me no matter how I might try to block out its sound, as the receptionist howls over the intercom for me to pick up such and such an extension.  But I'm taking a moment to pull myself back together from a recent fit of giggles from yet another conversation with Rick - my most disturbed and yet favorite customer who promised to show up under my Christmas tree last year with nothing on but edible underwear.  Unlike some men I know, Rick has never managed to disappoint me … Even if it's just over the phone, the man has a gift for making me laugh and smile. Then again, I don't expect much.

Out of Sorts

When my phone rang earlier, I knew just by the sound of my Mother's voice that something somewhere was very wrong.

"You're Grandmother's had a heart attack," her voice whispered. And I sat there numb, pressing the phone against my ear, unable to comprehend what I was hearing.

"Is she ..."

"She's okay," said Mom. "She's in the hospital. Your Uncle Danny is with her. She's had surgery, but she's doing well," she trailed off.

I wanted to be right there with my Mother, to offer her comfort. She sounded so tired, worried ...

"She's going to be okay Mom. She's going to be okay," I said trying to be supportive, "We C*lv*r women, we come from strong stock. Grandma wouldn't let something as little as this bring her down."

And I believe that. Because my Grandmother has already lived through some of the worst this world has to offer. And she's made it. Strong, independent, honest and true ... And they don't come much better.

So if you're out there in the world tonight and reading this, toss up a little prayer to the Lord that Evelyn's doing well.

Field Days

When you're tired, you simply want the noise to stop.

From far across the field, the celebrations are slowly easing to a close, the few remaining pops and whistles filtering through the air, skimming low above trees and houses dimly lit. In my mind, I can see the last few rows of cars filing out, the men with their orange light sticks directing cars northward to the road, pointing one this a way and then another that a way in the direction of home, as lights along the perimeter sputter out, leaving only an abandoned lot left lonely in the moonlight.

Liquid Volcano's

I did my damnedest to sleep in this morning, but KC decided to sneak into my room and scare me half to death in order to pull me from my bed.

There I was mid-dream, flirting with a Vince Vaughn look alike, when suddenly a loud voice booms before me, "Wake up!" and I open my eyes and I scream. I can't help but scream, because there is KC with her face right in my face imploring me to wake up, and it's not even close to 8 am. And she's breathing in my face, morning breath and all, wanting to get cuddly and snuggle and all I want is to be left alone, curtains drawn against the sun, with just my pillow, my blanket and an empty room.

In other words, my warm and fuzzy doesn't kick in all that early, and there are some days when it doesn't kick in at all. Like this morning for example, KC is determined to make this a rough patch day. Being that my daughter has been always of an age going on another age light-years away from where she actually is, life with her is often times difficult. Like me, she can be mule ass stubborn with a tendency to run her mouth prior to thinking before she speaks.

KC would like to think I am clueless but I know how it works. I remember getting so angry and upset, that words would form in the pit of my stomach, until suddenly there I was blurting them out. Spitting them out like mini balls of fire at anyone and everyone because I hadn't yet learned the fine art of controlling my anger.

I hurt best the ones I loved, learning quickly the things I shouldn't say. And much like an archer with an arrow, I could hit a bulls-eye every time, so deadly was my aim. I ruined Christmas for my Mother once, a fact I still feel quilt for today, though I apologized for it a long time ago.

It was the year my Mother and I moved into a sleepy little bedroom village, tucked away in a small house the color of mustard. Christmas was exceedingly hard that year. My Mother having come to the conclusion that her twelve year marriage to my stepfather was over, despite the fact that they still both loved each other. But what he couldn't or wouldn't give up, was the one thing nobody could live with anymore. And so, when it came down to a choice, choose your family or choose your poison, he chose his beer and let his family walk away.

It was a time of great hurt and I didn't make it any easier for my Mother. Inside I raged, hating the house we lived in, hating how far we were away from home, hating my stepfather for being a bastard drunk. We both lived in circles of hating and loving, loving and hating, each one of us dealing with it in our own way.

Mom was working crazy hours, doing everything she could do to keep the money coming in to pay the rent, fill the fridge and keep up from looking like beggars on the street. But it wasn't good enough for me, not the spoiled child used to getting everything and anything. It all came to a head the night she brought the Christmas tree home.

It reminded me of a Charlie Brown tree, small limp branches barely able to hold themselves up, let alone any ornaments and short, almost the same height as me, a very not impressing 5'0 tall. I wanted to cry when I saw it, and I did ... Despite the fact that my Mother was holding it there proud in the living room like it was the best tree ever, a smile plastered bright across her face.

And I ruined it. I took one look and I opened my mouth, because I was used to trees that touched the ceiling, trees that had wonderful thick branches where flocks of birds could hide and never be seen. Because I wanted to go home for Christmas and this was, and never would be home to me. And I said all of that out loud, watching as the smile on my mother's face faded and disappeared, the sad little tree dropping down into the corner as she ran past me in tears into her bedroom closing the door behind her. And for one small second I was glad, thinking to myself, Hah ... Now she'll understand how much I've been hurting. And in that moment, I didn't care enough to realize that I had caused her pain.

Eventually Mom came out of her room, I made my apologies and Christmas that year passed without further incident. Much like KC, I was 13 going on another age altogether, with my mouth, my pride and my temper as selfish as it was. It is this I try to remember while I am disciplining my daughter. Remembering how hard it was for me to get control over the liquid volcano that made up my insides. But it is a hard road, and one not so easily traveled. Still in selfish mode, my daughter has much more to learn about life, even though she thinks she knows it all right now at the tender age of eight. But I know it's all about patience and time, and patience and time.

Book Smart

Went out and bought another parakeet today. I swear, I am such a nerd sometimes. KC and I went to Barnes and Noble earlier this afternoon, to buy a book about raising parakeets and learned that - according to the author's opinion - it's considered cruel to keep just one.

Parakeets thrive on companionship, said the book, suggesting that where's there is room for one, there should be enough room for two. So Lizzie now has herself a friend, coincidentally named Fitzwilliam. And the relationship seems to be blooming ... Bully for them.

I spoke with an old friend this morning out of blue. Haven't talked to him in almost forever, when suddenly an IM popped up on my screen and there he was. It felt like it had only been a few days since last we spoke, so easily the conversation sailed along. So we chatted away the morning catching up on each other's lives, before I told him I had to bail in order to get my day started. Perhaps we'll speak again ... One never knows.

Cleanliness is next to ...

My house is a shambles. And I am dreading the thought of wasting a lovely weekend having to stay inside to clean it all up. But since no one else is volunteering, it looks like the bulk of the work will fall on me. (Sigh.)

Moments like this, I wish I had money enough to hire a once a week maid. Someone who would come in and tidy, running the occasional load of wash, while taking the time to move each and every knick knack from its perch in order to dust.

And yet the idea of letting someone in my home with free access to all there is to be found and seen turns my blood cold. After all, my penchant for writing extremely bad poetry and stuffing it into hidey holes about the house, would make this place a virtual gold mine for anyone who wanted to see inside my head. And lord knows at times that can be a truly dark and scary place indeed.

So I'm on my own and even though I know the best time to start is now, morning is just a mere few hours away.

Bird Brain

Female problems ... A lame excuse for calling into work, but one no smart man would dare to question. It worked like a total charm, although almost everybody was smart enough to put two and two together and to get, well 4. The only thing Stacey was sick of, was working.

I brought home a new addition to my small little family last night. KC has been begging like you wouldn't believe for a rodent - of some small and furry sort - for the longest time and although I have nothing against beady eyes and twitching whiskers, I couldn't bring myself to bring one home.

After all, I am quite knowledgeable in the keeping of long - and short - tailed creatures. Way back in middle school, eighth grade to be exact, I persuaded my Mother to let me have a cute little gray and white mouse, one rescued right from the very jaws of a pet snake owned by the couple I used to baby-sit for. I named her Adisa, and for a while, she lived alone in her little glass cage propped up on a shelf in my room.

Adisa however was lonely, as lonely as only a mouse could be, desperate for companionship. Claiming it was my civil duty to protect yet another mouse from the carnal appetite of a boa constrictor oddly named Harold, I brought Chase home.

Chase was a solid gray mouse with giant ears, dumbo-ish in their exposure, and for all intents and purposes, a girl. Now nothing could have been farther from the truth, but I couldn't tell my Mother that. At least not right away ... Not with the greatest live science experiment known to man was about to go off with nary a hitch.

About this time, I was actually finding the world of science quite interesting, an abnormal departure for me as science and I rarely traveled the same road. (That may have had something to do with my demonstration of a mud slide disaster, which unfortunately had nothing to do with alcoholic beverages, though enough of a disaster that my teacher could have really used a drink ...) Anyhoo, we were learning about the wonders of the hybrid chart. (If memory serves me correctly.) Which basically compares two individuals and the likely outcome of their propagation based on their dominant and recessive qualities AKA their genes. Or in other words, mice heaven.

Well, we all know what happens when you mix boys and girls, sooner or later the lights go off, you pop a tent in the back yard and your daughter comes home 4 months pregnant ... Woops, I mean the mice, well you know what I mean.

Mice had incredibly short gestation periods, so it took some serious work to gather all my data prior to the big live birth. Chart in hand, I scribbled down what I knew based on distinguishing characteristics such as eye color, coat color and whether or not the coat was solid or spotted. Knowledge in hand, I predicted how many of their offspring would follow suit for each trait exhibited by the parent.

Now don't get all excited and think I actually remember if I was wrong or not, because truth be told after getting busted with the little eraser head babies, I was more concerned about getting out of hot water with my Momma than I was with the furthering of my education. Needless to say, with a total of 8 mice later, Mom was not too impressed and this time around, 8 was truly enough. (Does anyone get that joke, or am I just being incredibly lame?)

But I learned a very valuable lesson and one that has aided me right to this very day. When your daughter comes home asking, "Please, Mommy please," don't hesitate to act. Go right to your local pet store and ...

Buy a parakeet.

Shame On Me

Another late night, of two late nights right in a row. Funny how you can fall asleep in the strangest most uncomfortable position when you are dead on your feet tired like I was last night. Hence no blog last night ...

When my alarm went off this morning, I wanted to cry. For some reason 6 a.m. always seems to come so damn early lately, that it feels like I've hardly had a wink of sleep at all.

But get up I did, went downstairs grabbed a towel, shuffled back up the stairs and turned the hot water on for my shower, barely adjusting the knobs for cold because my hot water doesn't last that long anyway. Normally a shower perks me right up getting me to get up and go, but today despite copious amounts of early morning caffeine my get up and go had got up and gone. And I for one wasn't looking forward to a day spent at work, falling asleep at my desk between calls.

So I pulled my trump card, grabbed the phone and called into work, putting on my best I don't feel very well at all voice.

"What's wrong with you?" said the voice on the other end of the line.

Not one who happens to excel in the lying department, I decided to go with the simple truth. "It's been a rough morning," I offered up as my excuse, figuring they could come to their own conclusions as to the possible variables for such a statement.

So here I am, playing hookey and not feeling the slightest little bit bad about it. A mental health day, every now and then, is a perfectly logical excuse to take a day off in the middle of the week.

And since it just so happens that KC's bed has arrived, it also makes it a good day to get the last little bit of her room done as a surprise before she comes home from school. After that, I'd say chances are good that there is a nap in my future.

Time Tunnel

I almost fell asleep at my desk this morning, so little sleep I actually got last night. I remember waking at 4 am, the sound of my own voice jarring me awake, though I can't remember now what I was saying.

We were back in college, the five of us girls. Carrie, Tracy, Robin, Brenda and me, carrying on like ninnies, dancing on beds and singing songs into our hairbrush microphones.

We were silly like that. Never caring what other people said or thought. We were our own exclusive little club and no one else was ever allowed to enter.

Someday - though not tonight - I'm going to write the memoirs for the girls of Penfield Hall ... Because each of us still has a story needing to be told.

Sleepyhead

Another weekend quickly coming to a close. A new work week waiting patiently at the helm. And here I sit, eyes almost closed fighting sleep, longing for my bed ... My eyes tired from having just read 383 pages in the short time span of 3 hours.

I am too tired to think let alone write. So with that I am off to reclaim my bed and slumber in peace until the radio alarm startles me awake.

A Job Well Done

A little teamwork, a little elbow grease and everything is coming up roses ... or should I say watermelons, as that is the new color of KC's room.

We didn't just stop at painting however. We steam cleaned the carpet, assembled a new computer desk and then managed to drag all of the computer components upstairs, in the time span of a few (well spent) short hours.

Thanks Amy, Jodi, Jamie and even Jordan ...

Now into the shower and off to spend the rest of the day shopping ...

(Sigh)

A girls got to do what a girls got to do.

After Thoughts

Sitting here in my pajamas this morning, having just rallied the troops with promises that they will be over soon in order for the painting to commence, I am enjoying my last few minutes of rest and relaxation. At this point, and considering my attire, I have yet to motivate this morning past the still wishing I was in bed and sleeping stage.

Which brings me to the odd dream I had last night. I dreamed that Sean had wrote me a letter and was very angry with me for things I had said about him in my blog. And while I was very sorry, I couldn't seem to bring myself to apologize for the truth about how shitty he made me feel while we were dating.

In hindsight I am beginning to understand that Sean was more of a stepping stone for me rather than a real love connection. Which is not saying I didn't have feelings for him, because I did ... But they weren't the kind of feelings that would have ever led to marriage or something just as committed.

The heart knows what it wants. And the mind knows what it needs. And if you can't get either from the person you're with, you're pretty much wasting your time.

Still I remember all the sweet and wonderful things he said. And for that I am grateful, despite our outcome.

But I really didn't want to get on this topic this morning. It's a beautiful day out, sun shining and the wind just right and not a speck of gloom or doom to be seen for miles.

All In A Day

Another day, another trip to Home Depot ...

Ran during my lunch break to buy paint for KC's room despite the fact that I tried to convince myself that painting wasn't necessary. Unfortunately the pencil marks on the wall where the border used to be, tells a much different story. Meanwhile, I am totally dreading the idea of slapping that first spot of color on the wall. Once started, there is no other choice but to finish it.

Had a call from one of my customers today who was calling to say thank you. An interesting thank you call it turned out to be, as he was "thankful" - and yes I did just use silly quotation marks - for my help in "breaking the cherry" of one of his new guys ... I don't think anyone has ever described my order taking skills in quite the same way. But I suppose when you work in a male dominated business you take the compliments no matter how colorful they come with a sense of humor. I wonder if this can qualify as a dream come true ...

After work, I stopped over to Amy's, picked up my nephew and went to see the new Harry Potter. Not only was the movie good, but I saw Dan D. a guy I lusted over in 5th grade right on through high school graduation. As I told Brenda earlier on the phone - because I had to call her and share such vital information - he has an ass you can bounce a quarter off of. Oh yeah, I was impressed. Once I managed to get my salivating under control, I was better able to follow along with the movie ...

But as it's late, I am to bed. I have a full day of painting tomorrow. Still looking for volunteers if anyone is interested ...

When Someone Else Can Say It Better

                I am bombarded yet      I stand

I have been standing all my life in the
direct path of a battery of signals
the most accurately transmitted most
untranslatable language in the universe
I am a galactic cloud so deep   so invo-
luted that a light wave could take 15
years to travel through me      And has
taken   I am an instrument in the shape
of a woman trying to translate pulsations
into images     for the relief of the body
and the reconstruction of the mind.

- Excerpt from Planetarium by Adrienne Rich (1968)

Cross My Line

Nothing has changed but something is different.

Sitting here tonight, house grown dark and minor child upstairs in bed, listening. Sounds from a piano played on CD, water running from the filter in the fish tank, and this little voice inside my head that talks and talks and talks.

Tonight she's berating me for being so weak. For not listening to her months ago when she said, "You know Stacey, you're not happy. You don't laugh anymore. You're positively miserable."

"But I know," she says. "You'd take him back right now if he called, if he had one kind word to say." And I can't say that she is wrong, because I know she's right.

And I can't help but wonder why I changed, why I would still risk myself for a change in me I didn't like. What about a man can make me so weak that I take less than what should be offered. Why am I a chameleon to the colors he tells me I should want to be.

I know I'm beating a dead horse. But it scares me that I give myself up so easily. Because I think that maybe the next time, I won't get myself back ... Maybe I just got lucky this time.

Electronic Tremors

My screen is shaking like there's a little elf fucking with the vertical hold.

It's rather nauseating. And I'm thinking that the longer I sit here, there is indeed a good chance (100%) that getting incredibly and violently sick, is the only outcome of subjecting myself to these strange electronic tremors. It's all very 3D reminding me of something much akin to one Blue Hawaiian too many ... (Need I really say it went down blue and came back much the same way?)

TMI Stacey ... TMI.

Oooh starting to feel queasy ... This is so not good.

But before I go, I just want to say ...

Happy 500th Post on NWTLO!

Tuesday ... Feels More Like a Monday

Hello nervous breakdown ... (Heh ... Fun with colors.)

Greetings and salutations from my glorious workplace, where according to the clock, I have exactly 39 minutes left of cave inspired bliss.  Today has been tedious, phones ringing off the hook, leaving my desk looking as if a class 3 tornado ripped through the joint.  Of course, it didn't help that I opted to go out to lunch with my friend Chris, rather than closet myself behind closed doors and catch up on the chaos.   This of course set my voicemail to blinking like a mad hatter by the time I returned ...

Lunch however was nice, though somewhat damaging to my ego since sitting in a booth with my feet dangling 5 inches above the floor made me feel more like a 7 year old than someone quickly approaching thirty.  (I'm still in denial about that ... So don't expect me to exactly be spouting that off like it's today's good news ... Ugh.)

Anyhoo ... time to get things picked up for the night and get to going while the going is still good.

Monday Morning

Another beautiful day made better by the fact that I'll be spending it at home, rather than sitting in my windowless office. Though KC is already complaining of boredom, and there's still a list of things to be done around the house, I'm of the opinion to take the day one moment at a time.

At this precise moment, we are watching home videos of Jordy's pre-school rendition of the Three Little Pigs. Which actually consists mostly of Jordan honking on a recorder, jumping up and down and readjusting her snout every other second. The cuteness quotient however is off the scale.

Until later.

Something On a Sunday

KC is amazingly still fast asleep upstairs. Something that is quite not the norm in this household as usually I'm the one playing slug-a-bug in bed on a Sunday. But it's nice, this silence, this little sliver of alone time. And though I know it can't last, I'm typing quietly.

Dad invited KC and I over to dinner last night, the usual Italian fare, which was fine with me as it saved me from having to spend unnecessary time in the kitchen, neither preparing or cleaning. Even figured I'd bring our own Romano cheese, as Dad never seems to have any around and of course, I had guessed correctly. As a thank you very much for dinner, I decided to leave the bottle there as an oops.

After dinner, Becky and Jodi opted for a bicycle ride while Dad and KC went for a short little walk. Normally I would have tagged along, but having just purchased (I told you I shouldn't be let out of the house with money.) the new Tori ~ Welcome To Sunny Florida DVD (Sorry Mike ... Did you really think this instant gratification girl could wait for a burned copy?) I wasn't about to miss out on the chance to watch it on the big screen with surround sound.

And it was marvelous. As well as very reminiscent of the concert I saw out in Syracuse back in March of 2003. The woman is a genius.

I do have to share one little bit of funny with you before I take myself off this morning to do chores and other necessary evils about the house. A brief moment dating itself back to yesterday while I was at HOME DEPOT inspecting color slides for the color of KC's new room.

We had just turned a corner, cart and all, loaded with yet another bag of peating moss and verbena, when we almost crashed head first into this really good looking guy. Making our apologies, we maneuvered around each other but as we did, I couldn't help but notice (the incredible mass of muscle in his upper body, the thick brown hair, short and spiked, the way he moved with confidence and agility ...) the fact that his pants seemed to have a little bit more than a blow out. I kid you not, he looked like a bizarre accident.


And when I say blow out, I mean that the entire ass of his jeans were hanging around his knees, leaving his entire hind end - clad in white blue speckled boxers - on display for all the world to see. (Hallelujah to the lord of bad fashion!)

KC however was quite puzzled, and as a parent, I wondered if I shouldn't do something more productive like shade her eyes, even as I tried to get a better look. KC however required explanation, almost taking it upon herself to go ask him with how loudly she was whispering to me.

Which leads me to the fact that eight year olds, even one as precocious as mine, can be deceived with even the tiniest bit of convincing.

Who knew that self air conditioning pants were all the rage with roof builders?

Money Like Water

One day into a three day weekend and I've already come to the conclusion that I've no other choice but to keep myself and my buying power safe at home.

I spent a small fortune, or to be better said, the last of my tax money I had tucked away for the purpose of putting a down payment on a new car. But as it turns out, new car be damned. KC needed a new bed much more than I needed that dream Volkswagen Pasatt ... Sigh.

It is however a beautiful bed.

Now all I have left to do is clean KC's room, pack off some items to charity and convince a few willing helpers they want to be invited over for a painting party. I have a feeling this is going to be much easier said than done.

Volunteers welcome!

Here In My Head

I am not thinking about someone I shouldn't be thinking about. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not very convincing.

How sad am I?

On second thought, don't answer that ...

Tori On the Wire

Mike brought me in the new Tori B-sides to listen to today.  A mistake to be sure, I want to ignore all the phone calls ringing into my office.  Inspired, I'm scribbling bad poetry on my color coded notecards again ... I'm working one on orange right now.  Perhaps I'll share later?  For now I leave you with lyrics. 

Ruby through the Looking-Glass

feel a little hand turning inside me
don't you think she feels us fighting
strike me at the root
I won't let you
put her through
what you put me through

when i said ---- I wanted it all,
doesn't every woman want it all ...

running through the house screaming
girl unstrung you could always play that one
Baptized of fire and
every beat in the bar
Hymns for her
feel her kick me from the inside

when I said ---- I wanted it all,
doesn't every woman want it all ...
as a man ---- do you find,
doesn't every boy smoke to cry ...

you could almost drown her waterfall
you could almost drown my waterfall

through the Looking-Glass, Ruby sees
things in you
things in me
she won't wanna be
just a little light turning the key
at the root, what I missed ...
she will carry

when I said ---- I wanted it all,
doesn't every woman want it all ...
as a man ---- do you find,
doesn't every boy smoke to cry ...

feel a little hand
turning
turning
Ruby

~ Tori Amos

Fancy Footwork

I am a complete IDIOT!

Somehow I forgot to pencil in on the calendar that KC has no school today. In addition to that, I've just been informed that the sitter sent a note home (a note I never laid eyes on) that she would be taking today through Monday off for Memorial Day.

Houston ... We have a problem.

I've no other choice but to call Dad and turn on the whine, so he can bail me out of yet another little snaffu. I am loathe to dial the phone, but there is absolutely no other choice.

Just call me daughter non grata.

Room With a View

Missed a post last night. Ask me how guilty I am feeling about that ...

Thanks to those who took the time to check on the status of my health ... I am happy to report that I am alive and kicking. Although I did promise my Mom that should the symptons arise again, I will be sure to schedule (shudder) a visit with the doctor.

Anyhoo, absolutely nothing has happened. Although work has been quite busy this week considering the Memorial Day holiday coming up. (3 day weekend.)

I did however meet one of my favorite customers today. He dropped in to say hello and thanks for a special order I rushed through for him. All I could think of as I stood there with a stupid smile plastered on my face was hubba, hubba, hubba. And though I considered proposing marriage right then and there, I opted to keep that idea to myself for the time being. (Mental note to self ... Flirt more often with Greg.)

Invisible Ouch

Something is not quite right ...

I've got a pain. A sharp shooting pain in my right side. It started out as a twinge last night, small enough that it could be ignored. This morning it was a little worst, worst than a twinge but not quite bad enough to prompt a day at home. Now it's bad. It hurts to move. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to think.

So I'm going to bed hoping to find it won't hurt to sleep.

Until tomorrow ...

Moving In a Forward Motion

The moping period is officially over.

No more sleeping the weekend away. No more calling up friends all hours of the night. No more pity parties with Kleenex, Bridget Jones and all her cronies. No more blaring loud angry chick music and singing along with every heartfelt lyric. Not going to do it, nope. I am officially over it.

And since I am officially over it, there's no time like the present to climb right back on the horse and take a new ride.

I'm single, I'm available and I'm back on the dating scene. (And coming to an area near you ...)

Shopping Therapy

Good morning, Sunday morning.

Still a bit of a sloth this morning, although I did manage to wake up a bit earlier than yesterday. I'm sitting here wrapped in KC's Mickey Mouse beach towel, hair still wet from the shower, thinking about what things I'll be doing today.

I suppose soon I shall have to call my sister (Amy) and see if she'd like to make a run to a couple of hardware stores with me to look for a new computer desk for KC since Dad gave us - KC- one of their spare computers. Also still need to find her a suitable bed frame to replace the one that was broken. Not much luck there as everything costs more than a mint, and the craftsmanship in my opinion in not worth the extra bucks.

As for last nights shopping trip, Bren and I hit a few select stores and managed not to spend every dime in our pocketbooks. I bought new dining plates at BB&B, but only had enough cash on hand last night for four ...The remainder of the set I've figured will have to be built one paycheck at a time.

But I like these plates. Glistening white squares, very simple and elegant to boot. Although I don't think Brenda was as keen on them as I. But lately I've come to realize that sometimes understated sophistication is far better than in your face I'm too expensive for you to even be looking at me artifice. So I got them and I'm very happy with the purchase. I guess there's some things I want to change around here and for some reason the plates seemed qood place to start.

I also bought a new shelf for KC which I will attempt to hang level today. It will be a nice surprise for her to come home to, to see I've bought her the display shelf she was begging me for on Friday. I'm so proud of my little one, she's the first in our line of women to conquer her two left feet ...

Anyhoo, I'm girl on the move.

Sleep as an Art Form

I almost slept the entire day away today. In fact, it was far after two this afternoon when I finally drifted back to consciousness and out of my bed, going downstairs to pour myself a large glass of juice, and munch on a thin slice of rye toast.

Normally wasting a Saturday in such a lazy fashion would set my teeth on edge. But today it just felt right to hide out under the covers and seek sanctuary from the real world in dreams now too fuzzy to remember.

There's another thunder banger overhead and it's starting to sound pretty damn intense so the details of my shopping trip with Bren will have to wait until the morning.

(SIGH)

Too bad there's not a man here to cuddle with ... It's always nicer to ride out a storm in the safety of someones arms.

Girl on the Go

A girl has got to be quick to post. Especially when her computer is just asking to be thrown through the window. (Don't laugh, knowing my lack of patience, it could happen.)

Had a fun night about town. Decided early on in the day that I was going to have a little family fun and take KC, along with my niece, nephew and added bonus of sister and stepmother to the movies to see Shrek 2.

Newsflash people. It's a sequel worth seeing.

Yet another thunderstorm brewing overhead ... I wonder if I'm too olf to play in the rain.

Ah Darn it All

An entire post wiped out two seconds away from being published.

Much too late to even think about retyping it now.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

The Taste of Rain

There was a time when I wasn't afraid of storms.

No reason to worry about the lightning cutting across the sky in brilliant flashes of white, or the sound of thunder booming and building again in a slow moving crescendo, like the steady roll of a timpani drum.

When the rain came down in torrents, I'd dash outside in excitement, my arms open wide to embrace the sky with joy. And I'd dance. Finding every puddle that could be found, my feet sinking deep into the grass, down into the mud.

I remember the taste of rain, the way it felt as it clung to the tips of my eyelashes, holding on for a moment and then like tears waiting to be shed, letting go to fall softly against my cheeks. Unlike tears, the rain was always sweet against my tongue.

Sit, Speak, Shake

Quiet night for KC and I. After picking her up at the sitters, we stopped home, changed our clothes and headed down to Dad's house to take care of the dog.

Taking a moment to refill her dish with cold refreshing water, I stood there debating on whether or not I wanted to try her for a walk, as KC pounded away at the piano in the sunroom.

As far as I was concerned, it was a win-win situation. The dog would benefit from the exercise and human interaction, and KC and I would feel a little safer when walking the nature trail near the house. Despite the fact that Sadie is far from being Cujo, I am quite convinced that a woman with a dog looks far more formidable than one who walks without. I did however come to some conclusions.

Though snapping on the leash was quite easy, walking with an untrained, undisciplined dog was not. After 5 minutes, I was quite convinced that Sadie was in desperate need of some basic doggy training. Ie: How to heel ...

Sticking her nose into every shrub, tree and bush, the dog was intent on dragging me behind her as I urged KC to keep up. Perhaps, I thought to myself, I was asking too much on day one. Maybe what the dog really needed was some love and attention before trying to turn her into woman's best friend.

So we turned around, and headed out to the back yard. Sitting in the grass, we watched as Sadie rolled around on her stomach, tail wagging with glee as we patted and praised her. Something about the way the dog looked at me, just about broke my heart. Her puppy dog eyes shone bright with joy, as if she was saying, "Yes! Someone thinks I'm special!" And I was tempted to bring her home ... Except for two reasons, (1) Emma (the resident black cat) would be none too happy and (2) Dogs are much harder to hide from the landlord than cats. (So much for good intentions.)

Chaining her back up for the night, I refilled the water dish again, scooped some food out into her bowl and promised to come back and see her in the morning.

"Small steps Sadie," I said to the dog. "We'll try again tomorrow and see what happens."

A Heartache Tonight

Would it all be the same - if I called and you came
If you could get here tonight

Why is it the moment you have a spare moment, your mind wants to think about all the things that make you sad and weepy inside.

I opened a book earlier and tried to read, but I could barely turn a page. Instead I sat there staring off into space, wondering what Sean was doing and whether or not he'd made it safely back home from dropping off the kids.

Not your concern anymore Stacey, I reminded myself. What Sean does or doesn't do, doesn't involve you anymore. Soon you won't even think about him, or remember the feel of his arms around you. You won't remember the wonderful things he used to say, like how cute you looked in the morning with your hair every which way to Sunday or how smart he thought you were. You're left only with the words he said last, words and actions that left you no choice but to walk away and say goodbye.

Sunday Morning Confessional

Making KC french toast sticks for breakfast from the freezer aisle rather than from scratch. Looking in the cupboards this morning, I realized that grocery shopping was no longer an option to add to my errand list of things to be done today. (Which is not to mention I'm out of bagels, and my morning routine just can't tolerate that.)

It's freezing here this morning, even more so since I left the kitchen window open last night. The back deck is wet with rain and even the poor birds visiting my feeder appear to be cold this morning, shivering in the breeze. Perhaps this will not be the day after all to get the garden closer to being done.

Dad and Bec left early this morning on their way to Baltimore for Audrey's graduation. I had promised I would go, but as usual Aud's lack of communication changed my mind.

There are times when I wonder how she seems to survive so well without the support of her sisters. I talk to Amy at least two to three times a week, catch Jodi on an instant message every other week or so, but when it comes to Audrey, lack any form of communication with her until she stops by home on one of her fly by night visits.

So I can't imagine how it will be this fall when she leaves for graduate school is San Francisco. It's hard to keep in touch with someone who seems to avoid any form of contact altogether.

In other news, my mother sent me a blast from the past picture in the mail of myself as a child. If I had any clue about how to post a photo on here I would. But for now a simple description will have to suffice. Naked, save for yellow terry cloth shorts, a green superhero cape and a non-matching Indian head dress with a vast array of different colored feathers, I am riding a kick-and-go (an older version of today's modern scooter) with a look of absolute enjoyment on my face. This is the note my mother sent me ...

Stace ~

Found this Friday in Jerry & Audrey's attic - must have been karma - it was in the first drawer I opened. Notice the wide shout of delight, the flamboyant dress. This is the spirit that lives within you. Let her fly!!!

Love,
YM

Sometimes my Mother knows exactly what to say, exactly when I need to hear it. Thanks Mom ...

Act 2, Scene 1

A strange evening to be sure, sitting next to the woman - who was almost my mother-in-law - making pleasant conversation. Years ago if you had told me I would be sitting next to Ellen, waiting for her son - my ex -to arrive with wife in tow, I would have laughed at the very notion. "You must have me confused with someone else," I would say, imagining an all out bar brawl, fists and beer flying through the air. Me, of course coming out on top, the victor.

But there we sat like gently bred ladies taking tea and discussed everything from the weather to astrology. She told me she had always wanted to be a dancer herself and was glad KC seemed to be enjoying taking her lessons.

"She must get that from me," she said. "When I was young, I used to tell my mother I wanted to be a dancer. But I married young," she sighed, her eyes fluttering closed, "And well, that didn't get me too far."

I nodded my head in agreement, tempted to remind her I was well aware of the damage young, ignorant love could do. "Yeah. I seem to remember your son choosing the door when KC turned 4 months old, to go shack up with his slut," I wanted to say, but bit my tongue, smiling my I can't wait until this thing is over smile.

Dimming, the house lights turned off and on to hasten the crowd to their seats as I glanced nervously around the room, scanning for any sign of KC's Dad. "Not tonight," I mouthed into the darkness, a silent prayer on my lips that he wouldn't be late, wouldn't miss a night so important to our daughter. But as the show began, he still had yet to take his seat.

If I had any nails to bite, I'm sure they would have been bitten off. It was hard to relax and enjoy the show without knowing whether or not he was there, knowing that KC's happiness could be shattered in that single second when she looked out into the crowd and saw the empty spot where a familiar face should be. I willed him to get there.

And get here he finally did, though too late for me to be very happy with his arrival. But it wasn't my feelings that mattered, all that mattered was making KC happy.

Perhaps I will finish this story tomorrow, as for now my eyes are closing of their own will and soon I will be very fast asleep ...

Center Stage

Up early this morning for a hair appointment. Decided to schedule it as early as possible since I'm going to be sitting in public with foil in my hair, getting the highlights that I'm sure nature had intended to but forgot to put in my mousy brown hair.

Unfortunately, KC has no choice but to go with me this morning, as I didn't even bother to ask my father how he was feeling about quality grandparent time with his granddaughter after last nights dance recital went on for over three hours in a very hot auditorium. (Yes Mom ... I took lots of pictures. And yes, you will eventually get copies. I'm thinking one hour photo tomorrow.)

Besides the stifling heat and the threat of a thunderstorm which necessitated the instructions that should the power go off, we were all to remain calmly in our seats until we could be escorted out, the recital was - as far as recitals can go - wonderfully thought out. Surprising since I haven't been all that impressed with the disorganization of the dance studio itself all season.

The assortment of colorful costumes, the talent of the children and the enthusiasm they exhibited, were enough to convince me that the drudgery of running KC here and there two times a week for lessons are worth continuing. A realization the selfish me who hates having to run around half of creation after a long day at work would rather have not come to.

But there it is. When you're a parent, you do things for the benefit of your children, rather than the benefit of yourself. (Even though you were rooting for soccer or some sort of musical aptitude to follow in your footsteps.)

Still, I'm quite proud of KC. She did great and didn't falter to nervousness or fall off the stage. Both which had me beaming from my seat.

But I must be off. Another long day ahead of us and another recital for her acro class tonight.

Do Not Disturb

Exhausted she thought about what things she could say, but realized the only words she wanted to hear were goodnight.

Sweet dreams until tomorrow. This is NWTLO signing off.

Is That A Mouse In Your Pocket?

I woke up thinking about Brian P's penis this morning. An odd thought to have nearly 20 years after the fact, but there it was as fresh as the morning sun streaming into my windows.

I remember that there were four of us all nestled in the back room of my grandfather's camp, zipped up tight in our sleeping bags attempting to sleep, though the noise from behind the door spoke of the good times our parents were still having.

As for me, I remember being more concerned about the mice. I'd seen their droppings earlier in the day and wasn't exactly thrilled with the premise of sharing my living space with them, imagining instead the horrible disgustingness of mouse fur and whiskers against my bare skin and the bloodcurdling scream I would yell when and if the little demons managed to chew their way into my bag.

Cousin Danny was in the far corner, his bag away from the door, while my older sister Amy was on the other side of Brian who was lying between us both. While Danny kept to himself, Amy and Brian were busy whispering in what I was sure was some diabolical plot against me, as the two often joined forced to make my life miserable. (Like the time Amy stuffed freshly mowed grass down my throat just because it was there and she was trying to impress Brian ... Brian however got the surprise of his life when I tackled him to the ground and gave him a bit of the same treatment until one of the adults finally pried me off him, howling and kicking like a little mad woman.)

Shucking the warmth of his sleeping bag, Brian made a big production of stretching as he lurched to his feet.

"You girls ever see a real penis before?" he asked, standing there in his tidy whities, his hands confident at his sides.

Amy and I both shook our heads no from our collective sleeping bags.

"Make you a deal," Brian said. "You show me yours and I'll show you mine."

Cousin Danny moved from his corner of the room, his newly deepening voice breaking into the conversation. "If anyone shows anyone anything, they won't have anything to show ever again," he said, in a burst of protectiveness, before returning to his world of isolated silence.

Brian sat back down dejected, deciding not to take the chance of irritating a boy much older and stronger than himself. But I could tell he wasn't completely sold on giving up the idea.

The rustling of his sleeping bag should have been a warming for me to close my eyes, instead my eyes tried to focus harder through the dark, moonlit room. Raising his covers just enough, he grinned as he gave me a flash of everything that was going on down there. In any case, I couldn't suppress the "eeew" that came flying out of my mouth. A mistake on my part as cousin Danny was on him in a flash.

"What did I tell you about showing my cousins things they don't need to see," he yelled, flipping Brian and his bag across the room.

"I was just having a little fun," Brian laughed, although it was one of those please don't beat the tar out of me nervous kind of laughs.

But Danny wasn't having it.

"You can sleep over on this side of the room for the rest of the night," he said, pointing to a spot on the floor very far away from us.

Brian reluctantly dragged the remainder of his things to his little island of exile, as Amy sniggered beneath her blankets.

As for me, I was glad for one thing. It had taken my mind off the mice.

Dancing in Circles

I feel like I should be teaching a course, "How To Appear Happy, When You're Absolutely Miserable Inside".

Silly, silly me. Holding on to the chance that he would call or email, to toe test the water and see how I was. I guess I'm not as good as some when it comes to dealing with an ending. It's more like me to dwell and hang on, then let go and forget.

I can't imagine though how he couldn't miss me, even if it were only a little. After five months, you would think - ok so I would think - that I would have stirred up some sort of feelings in the man. And yet, I'm slowly coming to the realization that losing me hardly caused him to blink an eye. And now I find, in addition to my heart, it's my ego thats gone down the drain.

So I've been throwing myself into projects around the house. Two nights in a row now, KC and I have worked the garden, yanking out various weeds, turning the soil and setting in a new line of cast iron fencing that, though imposing, will hardly keep the bunnies at bay.

I also finished the book I bought over the weekend at Barnes and Noble, my typical haunting ground of I must spend money to make myself feel better. It was a rather depressing read, the main character being a female who just lost her husband to cancer and through subsequent chapters learns how to moderate her grief. I'm not sure I feel much better after reading it, although it does make my complaints seem paltry at best.

Now that the house is quiet, KC to bed and the tele thankfully turned off, I think I will seek out the other book I bought and immerse myself in somebody else's life until I fall asleep exhausted.

Positive Feedback

Now directing your attention to the comment feature on NWTLO ... Please feel free to say anything, anything at all ... I'm desperate for conversation. Don't make me beg.

I'm begging, aren't I?

Disconnected

I'm not used to my phone not ringing. Part of me is waiting for him to call, hoping that he'll ring and say it's all been some sort of big mistake.

I miss waiting underneath the blankets, unwinding slow from a long day, as the phone chirps to life by my side, waiting three short rings before I answer, so as not to seem too eager.

I remind myself that soon I will get used to this too. The phone not ringing. The quiet returning to my evening hours.

And I have to wonder, what it is I miss more, the sound of the phone or the sound of his voice?

Now Testing ...

The freedom to blog at anytime, anywhere.  Even while eating strawberry banana yogurt during my lunch hour. 

I'm thinking this could be dangerous. 

The start of a whole new era ... A blogging goddess era, unencumbered by the usual constraints of 8 to 5.  How will I ever get any work done now?

(Ooooh ... Kid in a candy store, it works! Now what happened to the comment feature? Ah crike!)

A Much Needed Makeover

Change is a good thing.

Happy Mom's Day

To all the Mom's out there. Sit back, relax and put your feet up for the day. Today it's all about you and everything you do to make the world a better place by raising quality kids.

Happy Mother's Day!

Top 5 Reasons It's Good To Be Single (Again)

5. You don't have to pretend that every word he says is interesting, when he says the same things over and over again.

4. You don't have to waste your entire weekend waiting to see if he'll call, only to be disappointed by his lack of manners.

3. You can laugh with your friends at just how pathetic you were while you were oh so crazy in love - or like ... whichever the case may be.

2. You can stay out all night, have a good time, sleep in on a Sunday morning, wake up with a hangover and still be in a good mood. (Who cares if you kissed every man in the bar last night.)

1. You're not bothered by a little bit of hair on your legs. So their not silky and smooth, shaving on a daily basis is for the birds.

Top 2 Reasons Why It Sucks To Be Single (Again)

2. Starting over at square one, finding someone new, putting in the time to get to know them and be comfortable with them.

1. Even in the most necessary break ups, knowing that it may take more than a few days for your heart to feel anything more than bruised and battered.

Coming To An End

"No man is worth your sanity." ~ Stacey 2004

For the past five months, I've been trying to convince myself that being with someone, was much better than being alone. And for the past five months, I've been pretty close to being absolutely miserable.

From the start there was a wall that couldn't be broached. Sean's personal issues were like monsters let out of a closet, and always a matter of conversation. I understood, if only from my own experience, how hard it was to move on ahead with your life when everything you thought you knew had come crashing down around you. I tried to be supportive, without always dispensing advice, believing that living through the pain was the only way to learn that you could make it on your own.

I tried to remember how I reacted to the pain, and remembered a hollow shell girl who couldn't sleep at night, let alone breathe. The girl who retired from the world for over a year, until finally one day there was light again, and laughter. He just needs time, I kept telling myself, he hasn't even made it a full year yet, give him some room. Although he would probably say different - though in my world he has ceased having a right to say anthing - he was not one who could handle stress well. During these times he tended to cave in, pushing me away to the outer recesses of his life until he could handle having me around again. Through the months it became a pattern, one really good weekend followed by two that were really bad.

But still I hung on. Not wanting to be a failure at yet another relationship and not wanting to be alone without hope of ever finding love. Still, if I were being honest, I knew months ago that this relationship didn't stand a chance. No relationship can survive only having one person in it and quite frankly, he wasn't there, at least never with me.

He was good at making promises, making plans he never intended to go through with. Maybe he thought this would make me happy, or maybe it was just intended to get me to shut up for a while. I tried to be understanding, giving him the benefit of the doubt that life could really be that stressful and he needed time out to himself. And then I remembered who I was, a single full time working Mom, head of household and dance class transportation, who could always be counted on in a pinch by anyone in need. The kind of person who could always make time for those important to her. And hell, if I could do it and knew it could be done then it only came down to one thing. I wasn't important enough for him to make time.

So why keep me around I thought? What was I to him in his life that he wanted me around, when in truth he didn't want me around at all. Because I was convenient, like a puppet on a string waiting for him to put me in motion? So he could have sex when and if he wanted it? Because I refused to give myself any credit and kept coming back for more? I don't know, and I didn't really get an answer this morning when I was talking to him on the phone, as he was trying to give me his usual "I'm busy" brush off.

Fuck your being busy was all I thought as he listed his to do list for the day, suddenly realizing that I didn't have to beg for his attention, I didn't even want it. Inside I wanted to tell him what an asshole he was, that he was a selfish prig and to borrow a word from Bridget Jone's Diary, an emotional fuckwit. If there is one thing all men out there should learn, it's that you don't mess with the heart of a single mother!

He tried telling me he was going to call me later, and then tried telling me he hadn't read the email I had sent him last night, even though I knew he had read it, as I had requested a return receipt for the message. I couldn't fathom the reason for the lie, just as I knew his propensity for not knowing how to work a phone would be the reason for his not calling later.

I saw myself in my minds eye, wasting a whole Saturday sitting by my phone waiting for his call and my groveling for his affection was done. In that single second, I realized that I had had enough of the games, of the bullshit, of the outright lying and the questionable purple trojan wrapper I had discovered the week previous on his bedroom floor. My faith and trust in this man was already shot, there was no denying the inevitable anymore.

I tried to pull my thoughts together, requesting a moment of his time as he was eager to end the call. I think of you as a friend he said, I don't feel the same way about you as you feel about me. I couldn't say I was shocked to hear this, since I had already suspected as much. (Although his defintion of friend is sorely lacking, as I wouldn't even treat my worst enemy the way he has treated me.)

So I told him enough.

I had had enough, and wasn't signing up for the next ship out to sea to chance the tides. Instead - blog notwithstanding - I went out like a lady, telling him I would miss him, but could see no other choice than to say goodbye.

But as I hung up the phone, it was the damndest thing, I was more happy than sad.

Time & Consideration

"Rejection doesn't maim. It kills."

If memory serves me right, I believe this quote comes from one of my favorite movies, The Truth About Cats and Dogs. Except today, it's disappointment rather than rejection, or maybe even a little bit of both, that will be showing its face today.

Have you ever known right at the beginning of your day that it's not going to go the way you want it to? You keep your fingers crossed, and say a prayer that it will all work itself out in the end, even as you're already sure you'll find yourself sitting home alone on a Friday night.

And you'll feel miserable, and you'll feel like no excuse will ever do when you're the one who keeps getting shoved around everybody else's schedule and no one gives a damn about yours. And you'll wonder what it's all worth, leaving your self and your heart open and vulnerable for the one man who can make you happy one second and miserable the next. And even though you want to have faith in him, you realize the track record isn't good, you've been cancelled so many times, you've stopped asking him questions, because you're tired of hearing the word no.

Still you're hoping he won't let you down tonight. That little flame of hope that lingers, waiting to spark. Anything to stop the tears you've already started to cry, when things begin to feel distant and cold. So you send him a message, hoping it will get through to him, that you're standing on the edge waiting for him to pull you back, rather than allowing you to go over alone.

Blog Notes

I'm just saying ...

Happy Cinco de Mayo.

Peace out until tomorrow.

When the Lights Go Out

I was a bit frazzled before going to bed last night. And as always it was for the usual reason. Intent on making this visit, a good visit for one and all - despite the propensity for it to go the other way, whenever my sister and mother happen to be in the same room together - I tried to come up with a plan to get us all through the next three days without trampled feelings.

As if I have any control ...

What I did succeed in doing however was stressing myself out, which made me a prime candidate last night for nightmareville. I woke up this morning, a bit cloudy but remembering the premise of the dream, which happened to involve people cutting through my bedroom walls and tearing their brains out.

I'm going to guess that symbolically speaking I was trying to tell myself that there's not much use in overthinking a thing. Of course, that won't stop me from worrying ... I am what I am. And I'm the fixer of the family, always have been, always will be, the little girl who tries to keep the peace.

Ach ... I should be getting ready for work. I'd rather stay here and write all day but duty calls.

Until sooner or later ... Though one should always hope for sooner rather than later. This is Stacey, signing off.

To Do List

Despite yesterday's brief panic attack, things are not as bad as they look. Well, other than the laundry room ... And quite frankly that door - as well as the door to KC's room - can remain shut throughout the course of my Mother's visit.

One must think positive to be positive. And so tonight, I have decided that the first "to do" is just to get the downstairs looking presentable, which means breaking out the dusting cloth, the vacuum cleaner and putting some of the standing clutter out to pasture. Or at least hide it really well somewhere where she won't look.

All things are possible with a little elbow grease and an impending visit to motivate you into action.

For now I'm off to work. Oh happy Monday ...

Iiiieeee

Oh God, oh god, oh god, oh god!

Mom's on her way.

And the house is a mess with only 2 days to clean. And I'm out of advil, suffering alone with a killer migraine watching extremely bad tv at the lowest volume possible. And KC's been complaining all day and now ... Now I've got to perk up, get with the progam and get my house up to Mom standards.

Sane? I think not.

The Get to Going

Sometimes there is a part of me that wishes she could run away. I've been listening to the sound of the rain tonight, watching the curtains billowing in, and then out again with the current of the wind beneath their folds. There is a damp freshness in the air, reminiscent of the smell of spring, foretelling of new beginnings.

The walls feel small tonight. As if they're closing in, despite my vain attempts to fight for space. It's not often that being home seems wrong, and yet tonight, a million miles away doesn't seem quite far enough. Perhaps there are just other places I wish myself to be.

And going to sleep seems like such a waste of time, with all these thoughts racing around my head demanding action. I am like the parachuter quite unready but willing to jump all the same. Perhaps all we ever really need is just a starting shove ...

Colin and Hugh

Love actually.

If real life could only resemble the movies ... (I am ever the sucker for British flicks.)

The Color of Greed

When you think ballet recital you picture little girls in pink tutus stumbling across the stage, their little feet trying to move in motion with the music, as you, the proud parent, wait with roses in the wings. Watching patiently from your seat, fingers crossed that your daughter, despite her inherited lack of grace, will manage to get through the routine without actually having to break a leg.

It's camera flashes, camcorders, and grandparents galore dressed in Sunday best, all there to witness the moment when your little girl finally gets her moment in the spotlight.

But at our dance school, worshiper of the almighty dollar, things are a bit different for KC's upcoming recital. With two recitals on two different nights, I had to dig deep into the family fortune in order to pay for the first seven tickets at five dollars a pop. Wonderful I thought to myself, forking over the cash to the dance rep, all the while holding my tongue so as not to tell him that the whole paying for tickets in addition to monthly tuition was complete bullshit.

This is what I've figured, which has me regretting not going into the dancing business, despite my two left feet.

Cost of each class per week .... $30.00 ( x two) = $60.00 (x 9 months) = 540.00
Cost of dance clothing/shoes ... $120.00
Cost of costumes for recital ... $55.00 each (x two) = $110.00
Cost of additional items needed for recital ... 50.00
Cost of tickets for recital ... $5.00 each (x as many people in my family who are willing to fork over that kind of money for a junior performance.)

Actual cost of ticket for one person minus the five dollar cover charge ... $820.00.

I will pick my jaw off the floor now. Nough said.

Flurries of Snow

Alright. It's April and it's snowing. White dandruft drifting down from the sky is enough to make me want to retch up my morning coffee.

And since I've been drinking coffee for the past two days, completely possible, as I've discovered that flavored creamers can only help the taste so much. Nothing like swirling around coffee grounds in your mouth and pretending that you like it, just to get a major jolt of caffeine in the morning.

But one must do what one must do in the daily effort to stay awake. Speaking of that, one must get her arse in gear for work. My record for arriving on time as of late has been pretty sad indeed.

Happy Hump Day.

Understanding the Rush

Calling yourself on making a mistake the very moment you are making the mistake can be a disconcerting thing. This morning, KC and I got into it yet again as we tried to make our way out into the world. Forever dragging her heels, her lackadaisical attitude in the a.m. drives me crazy.

I've got somewhere to be. Let's go, let's go, let's go, seems to be my cry each morning as I try to hustle us out the door. Instead my daughter stands stock still like a deer captured in headlights, shoes barely on and untied, fiddling with her half open bookbag, as she greets me with a blank stare, unable to fathom a reason to rush.

Sometimes I think that if I could clamp my hands over my ears and scream - all without upsetting the neighbors - I'd surely stand and yell for a thousand years or more, until the entire weight of my frustrations were spent. Comical or just crazy?

But this morning, little big mouth decided that sass was the way to go. A big mistake when Mom's already in a mood, but at the tender age of 8, my girl is willing to take her chances from time to time. But it was so not the way to go this morning, when option A, B, or C would have been the far better choice. However like her mother, the minor child has a stubborn streak a mile long and the inability to realize that sometimes keeping one's mouth shut is far more advantageous to personal welfare.

So she's grounded. And I'm grounded. And now we can both suffer the night together in anything but peaceful bliss and harmony. Ah well, an early bedtime is bound to make someone happy.

All In A Day's Time

Good morning Monday morning.

Not much to say good about it, other than I am up, awake and almost ready to face the day, if one doesn't take into account that I have yet to get dressed and am sitting here with a purple bandana on my head, looking all sorts of non-goddess.

The weekend, despite one little flub up, went particularly well. I spent time with Sean, Brenda and Barnes and Noble - all respectively of course - although it should be said that I spent far more money in the company of Brenda than anyone else. A necessary evil I suppose when one takes into consideration that we were shopping for a new spring wardrobe for the minor child.

KC, ever quick to notice a pile of new clothes on the living room table, eagerly tried on every single outfit upon getting home from her weekend at her father's. She's expecting to wear one of her new skirts this morning to school, but I have no choice but to tell her no considering that the weatherman has promised that there will be little to no warm up to today's cold start.

Oh well ... I suppose it's time to pull myself together and get to work. Maybe if it's quiet I'll get time to write another chapter in my it's going to take me a lifetime to write novel.

Any proof readers available out there?

And before I forget ...

Happy Birthday to my sister (the eldest) Amy ... Presents wrapped and awaiting opening.

College Woes

My kid sister Jodi is trying to make a difficult decision. Stay at the college she is at, or go to the better one that wants her there.

Well, if her older sister's opinion counts ... I say choose SU! (And not just because it's closer to home.)

Listen For Your Song

There's a black Wurlitzer piano in my father's sunroom and I am jealous, wondering why and for whom it sits ... I'd like to think it could be for me. But yes, I know it's not.

There's something about a piano that draws you to it. Your fingers anticipating the sound of a key press, the way the notes linger in the air. I couldn't help myself and dragged a chair out, my hands instantly recognizing the stretch of an octave from thumb to pinky.

It was like breathing. That first note followed by a second, as I remembered one of the short songs I wrote back in the days of high school music theory class. I wasn't as talented as the rest of the kids in my class. Not like James who could play Mozart without a single page of sheet music. Or a girl like Sarah who could play almost any instrument you dropped into her outstretched hands. But what I lacked for in natural talent, I made up for in feeling, despite the constant jeers I got from my companions.

James liked to think himself King of the Piano. No one could play better than him, no one could play more than him, and my feeble attempts at piano playing often set him on edge. It was almost like hearing his teeth grinding, everytime he realized I beat him to the favored practice room during lunch. But practice I did, over and over again, finding the notes that worked, changing the ones that didn't, until my song took shape.

It was a song that echoed with vulnerabilty and yet the bass line carried a show of strength, an iron will. It sang of being unsure of who I was, and what I could be, all the while carrying the confidence of a spirit that could always mend no matter how many times she was broken.

And even though it might not have been the best, I've always been proud to call it mine.

Over Due

If you're a thought you will want me to think you and I did ...
~ Tori Amos

A night full of dreams. I know what's in my head now. All the thoughts came to me last night as I tried to sleep. First at one, then at two, followed by three and four until my alarm clock was the last to wake me up at six this morning. Groggy and yet weirdly refreshed, I made my way to the shower with a myriad of voices continuing on with their conversations in my head.

Be honest they said. No more excuses, no more reasons why to weezle out from what it is compared to what you think it could be or even should be. You simply have to stick to your guns. Say the words you haven't said because you didn't want to learn the outcome of honesty.

You're long overdue for understanding.

It's Raining, It's Pouring

What is it with me and torrential downpours lately? In a matter of two very short days, I've found myself coming home drenched from the inside out. Perhaps it's time to invest in an umbrella ...

Oh well ... It can't rain all the time.

Well Rested

Something strage.

I actually slept well last night. Getting up a total of 2 times and no more, without a single dream to remember.

Maybe it's because I forgot to set my alarm. Perhaps not having it on somehow made me feel like I wasn't on a limited time budget for sleep.

That or maybe I should just stand in the rain more often ...

Coming In From the Cold

It didn't matter that it was raining. Didn't matter that thunder was rumbling right over my head with lightning flashing across the sky. I knew before this weekend was out, I'd end up there eventually.

The rain was cold, dripping from my hair down onto my face. I walked quickly across the grass, immediately regretting my earlier choice of sandals, as I made my way to the familiar headstone flanked by two small evergreens.

"Hello Nannie." I said, bending down to press my hand against the cold concrete where her name was etched. "I can't stay long today. I just came to say hello. Well, more than that really. I need your help again ..." I paused, wiping the rain from my eyes, noticing the tender buds of last years roses coming back to life. "That favor I asked you for in January, you know the one ... Well, I'm not so sure about it anymore. I need you to tell me what to do now. Tell me if I'm doing something wrong, or maybe just remind me of who I am and what I'm worth, cause I just don't know anymore."

I sat there silent for a moment, watching the cars on the Thruway whizzing by and knew I must look crazy. A woman, alone in a cemetery, in the middle of a torrential downpour, talking to a grave.

"I've got to go now Grams," I said to the headstone, "Tell Grandpa I didn't mean to ignore him, I just needed to talk to you today ... I'm sure he'll forgive the girl talk." Touching my fingers to my lips, I brushed my hands across the stone to say goodbye. "I miss you Nannie. A bushel and a peck."

All By Myself

If ever there was a day I've felt like Bridget Jones ... Then today would have to be it.

A Nerdy Poem

Every week you doubt it.

Every Monday it seems so far away.

Every Wednesday you're climbing walls looking for escape.

So thank the Lord it's Friday, a two day vacation on its way

Just a mere 8 hours until it's time for play.

TGIF baby, TGIF.

Where Words and Actions Go Hand In Hand

Sometimes it's the little things that mean a lot.

Do something nice today. Hold open a door, smile when you say hello, tell a friend you're happy to have them around.

Write your family a letter, and fill them in on all the small details that often get overlooked with distance. And if you ask a question - no matter how mundane - stick around and listen, really listen. You just may be surprised by what you hear.

Do something today to make someone else feel special just because you want to, just because you can. And I promise the giving is just as good as the getting.

Pollen Counts

This is me, almost in a better mood than the one I was in last night.

I'd like to think I could blame it on forgetting to take my allergy medication just before I hustled out the door, barely able to close it behind me with hands too full to do anything more than hold on for dear life yesterday.

As usual, it was a rough start to the morning. If only I could get more sleep, seems to be my answer to everything. Not that I think it would actually make a huge difference in me not wasting valuable time when I'm supposedly on a schedule. Still, I'd run over the Easter Bunny for the opportunity to head on back to bed.

Speaking of Easter ... I hope all of you out there had a wonderful one. As for mine, it's almost too comical to speak of. Let's just say that I have absolutely no hankering for any fried rice any time soon. Bleck.

I have 10 minutes to get to work ...

What It Is

This is not a warm and fuzzy blog.

This is a frustrated blog. A blog that wants to stomp its feet and throw itself down on the floor. A blog that wants to be surly and pout. This is a sad blog pretending to be an angry blog because she is a blog disappointed.

This is a blog in need of a new day to change its mood.

Sleeping In

No alarm clock tomorrow morning. No mad scramble to get to work on time. No waking up on the wrong side of the bed on the wrong side of the world. Just sleep, glorious sleep until my eyes open on their own accord.

Decisions, Decisions ...

Coming home for lunch today was a definite mistake. Now that I'm here, going back to work is the very last thing I want to do. Napping, on the other hand, sounds likes the beginning of a beautiful idea.

It's like one of those "you choose" stories ...

Does Stacey
(a) Return to work with a positive attitude?
(b) Trudge off to work with a grimace on her face and suffer for the remainder of the afternoon, thereby forcing everyone else to suffer with her?
or
(c) Call work and tell them this girl is gone for the day and won't be returning until tomorrow?

Aaargh! Ten minutes to make up my mind.

You say ... I only hear what I want to.

I've got a Lisa Loeb song spinning in my brain this morning. Not quite sure where it came from but the chorus keeps repeating and it's hard to think of anything else.

I should be waking KC up for school, curling my hair and prepping the dishwasher for its morning load before it gets much later. But as usual, I'm pushing things right to the end so I can rush, rush, rush myself right out the door with KC trailing along beside me.

One would think I would want to avoid all that ... And yet nah. I'm beginning to think I like a little instant drama with my cocoa in the morning.

All Things Green

Playtime is over boys and girls.

It's back to work on another frigid Monday morning, where in Upstate NY a fresh layer of snow has appeared overnight. Though it's officially Spring, it seems that winter is not yet ready to let go, much to the chagrin of the poor robins hopping around outside trying their best not to freeze.

As for me, I'm desperate to see green. Enough of this white stuff falling from the sky making everyone miserable, when just a little sunshine would make our day.

But it seems we've still got a wait ahead of us. Looks like I'll be brushing up on my patience this week. Well, that or sending condescending emails to the local weatherman.

Hi ho ... It's off to work I go.

Movie Madness

Despite the odds being against me, we all made it back safe and sound from the movies. Although I'm thinking that there's got to be something said about going to the movies on your own rather than bringing a gaggle of minor children along.

If you want to get a good seat, you have to get there early. Otherwise you're stuck sitting too close to the screen and you spend the entire movie crossing your eyes just trying to calm your stomach from throwing up with all the up close action flying by.

KC, of course, spent the entire 10 minutes we were there waiting for the movie to begin by whining.

"Mommmmmmm ... When's it going to start?"

"In a few minutes," I whispered.

"It's taking forever," she sighed.

"You're just going to have to be patient. It's going to start in a few minutes. The place is almost full."

"It's never going to start."

"It's going to start. Whether or not you'll still be here to see it remains to be seen," I said, this time giving her the Mom is quickly getting irritated with this whole conversation look.

"Well maybe if you had gotten us candy, I wouldn't be whining," she grumbled, "What's a movie without candy?"

"Affordable."

****

Home On The Range Stacey Rating ~ 2 1/2 stars ... Not the normal Disney film that makes me want to buy it as soon as I leave the theatre.

And Action ...

Heading off to the movies with KC, Jamie and Jordan for an afternoon of family fun ... I must be crazy, or at least delusional at best for volunteering to take the whole brood to Disney's Home on the Range. But I can't resist ...

Updates later on my sanity.

On the Snooze

I'm so tired, I doubt even toothpicks could keep my eyes open about now.

All through the night I tossed and turned, yelled at the imaginary people that were pillows and blanketed and de-blanketed at whim.

I dreamed of phoning the job this morning to tell them I wouldn't be in, and saw myself relaxing in bed, soaking in sleep like a cat in a window soaks up sun.

Alas, the knowledge that we are already shorted handed today busted that little bubble of happiness. So I am to work despite myself ... Maybe just maybe if it's not too busy, I can play up for a half day.

April Fool

I wonder what havoc will be had today?

My mind is reeling with a stir of mischief in the air. And I swear, if I see any money on the floor today, I'm just going to walk on by ...

Because really, I'm not that gullible. No ... really I'm not.

Break out the warm fuzzies!

The Wrong Number

Your phone rings. You think you recognize the voice. The way it sounds over the wires, over the distance it used to take to talk to you. You press the phone against your ear, listening as the voice on the other end makes absolutely no sense and realize it's not who you thought it was. Wrong number, wrong time, wrong person, you return the handset to its cradle, wondering what you would have said had it been someone you thought you knew.