Just Another Aha Moment

"Love," resumed Gus, when he had bolted another portion, 'is letting be. Letting the other be as they are. Like you with the napkins.' Of course my agitation had not escaped his notice. 'Wanting to help them be that, not by doing anything - you can't do anything for anyone anyway - but simply by wanting them to be nothing other than they are, because that's who they are so that is how you want them to be: as they are, whatever that may be. Just that. Easy-peasy, I don't think.'

The Other Side Of You
A Novel by Sally Vickers

I said the same thing myself. Not really realizing what it was that I was saying. But now I get it. For the first time in my life, I was completely and honestly in love with more than just the idea of what love could and should be.

And right now it's me who is a little bit amazed. I really did love him. Loved the person that he is, was, will be and has been.

I told him to just be. And though this may not seem like anything earth shattering to any of you, it's a downright amazing thing to me. This heart has never once found a man before him that made her feel complete or even strong enough to take a chance on something and someone. And even now, now that I know the ending that happened months ago was the beginning, middle and end, remembering the sound of him falling asleep on the phone, or all the other little words and phrases that became a language spoken between the two of us, well that's enough to warm my heart and make me smile and hope that he's out there being exactly who he is. No more. And no less.

Always Home

I feel like going for a walk but it's too late to go anywhere now. Still I'm tempted to throw on a pair of sneakers and say to hell with it and just go without any worry about walking alone. Common sense however will keep me inside. At least for now. At least for tonight.

I miss it though. Miss being able to go outside and gaze at a star filled sky. Miss falling asleep to the throaty calls of bull frogs in the pond and a chorus of singing crickets. Sounds that I don't hear here.

But it is exactly what it is. And I've got to get used to this. At least for now.

I'm thankful that I do have - all things considered - a pretty nice home to come home to. And my house agrees with me. Every color, every picture, every piece of furniture that I own, is a perfect fit. A perfect definition of who I am and what I like.

Now if I only had a yard and a tree to measure the passage of time.

Unexplainably Tired

Something has kicked my ass. Zapped away anything that might have been motivation today, keeping me confined to my couch, leaving me somewhere between wanting desperately to vomit out whatever toxin has invaded my bloodstream and sleep until the dizzy feeling in my head dissipates for the great unknown.

It started last night after KC along with two of her closest friends and I got home from spending an entire day swimming, or more accurately described as freezing in my father's pool. The girls went upstairs to supposedly clean KC's room, a task I've all but given up on at this point, when I felt the first twinge of exhaustion. TV remote in one hand, and my chocolate brown snuggle blanket pulled up to my neck, I stretched my entire five foot frame out on my couch, ready to watch an episode of Survivor Man. And that as they say was that. I was out for the count. Or at least out long enough for the girls to take notice that the TV was up for grabs.

But of course you don't really sleep when you've got that many girls camped out in your living room. And between the laughing, the giggling, and what evidently turned into a Guitar Hero marathon, I caught my sleep in winks rather than in the hours I would have preferred. Which may explain why I'm so out of it today, or at least add to the reason as to why...

And now, now I'm simply waiting for five o'clock to come so I can go collect KC from the friend's house where's she spent the better half of the afternoon. And all I can think is how I'm just too tired to make my way down the stairs, and down to the driveway and into the car and over to get her, just to turn around to get back to where I already am.

Work and Play

During the course of my work day, it's little emails like this that make waiting til five a little bit easier to endure... I've made it a little easier to follow along with, doing away with the all the back and forth in and outs of an actual email transcript... And now that my boredom has been alleviated, I'm off to read a little bit before bed.

-----Original Message-----

M: My customer decided not to go with the ----- or the -----. Sticker shock apparently.

S: Didn't you tell him to sit down first before you broke the news?

M: I was actually hoping he'd just go away altogether.. This particular job's been going on over 6 weeks now, & every single transaction is like yankin a tooth, or whatever. I know there's gonna be days like these, guess that's why there's booze.

S: Let me know when you need a sponsor for AA... I'll give you my number so I can talk you down from the hard liquor...

M: I was hoping rather you'd join me?!

S: Bad idea... I can't be trusted around that sort of stuff.

M: I'LL BUY!

S: You had me at hello...

M: You're a riot :)... Thanks for the comic relief ... Definitely needed it
today!

Why It Pays To Read the ENTIRE Instruction Manual of a New Appliance

You're a sly one Mr. Coffee and you almost pulled one over on me. You had me going last night, thinking that your cord was entirely too short to make sense, testing the limits of my patience when the truth was there was plenty more cord tucked away where I couldn't see. Or rather never thought to look.

Either way we make a fine pair. You with your fresh coffee ground goodness and me with my powers of observation and logical reasoning.

Decaffeinated

I'm so tired that I'm yawning every other second questioning my reasoning for still being awake. And honestly, there isn't a single reason at this point. I'm here because I had intended to post a story about my new bright red coffee grinder I purchased last night at Target and the subsequent use of it this morning... And how geeked up I was over just how good my coffee tasted along with a few words to ramble on about why it is the cord to the grinder was so short and how my own shortness should have equaled out the distance from me to the electrical outlet but didn't.

These were all thoughts I had in my head this morning when I was awake. They were much more laid out then, they had a rhythm and a pattern and now, now the only thing I want to think about is myself, in my bed, in my cool, dark room... Sleeping.

So I don't know... Maybe I'll come back to the coffee grinder story or maybe this will end up being all you'll get.

Who knows? At this point, not me.

Sunday Marathon

Okay so today seems like the day where I've gone a little post crazy... And I guess I have in my quest to catch up on all I didn't bother to put down this week when I was taking my little mini-break.

But since I've just come to the conclusion that nothing ventured is nothing gained, I thought I'd share with you that step two of get Bob to take me out on the date is now in motion. Or should I say that it just may be me asking Bob out on a date. After all, the worst he can say is no.

Now all I have to do is be able to look him in the eye and make my mouth work... Oy. I am so much better at flirting when I don't really mean it.

Fingers crossed people, God only knows what day I'll get my courage up to do it.

Something Lost... Something Found

Occasionally I like to read back through my archives just to get a feel for how far I've come from where I've been, and to see where it is I've still got to go... Tonight I came across this little gem I wrote in a reply to a comment my Mother had left me. I think it's a great reminder that life isn't always the smooth ride we think it should be.

Life is the ultimate blessing even when things have gone in a way that doesn't seem to coincide with our plans. Sometimes the new direction you find yourself going in, is the journey you were meant to take all along.

What You've All Not Been Waiting For...

Okay... So I said I would and I am doing so under a bit of duress I might add as this year's picture is nowhere near as good as the previous... Still I'm a woman of my word so one must do what one must do.

I am however worth a whole lot more than a mere $20.00! And my hair is not really that color, I just have a problem admitting that home hair dye kits are not for me and I always leave them on a bit too long which has this extremely bad habit of turning my hair a peculiar shade of brown/orange... Not exactly the look I was hoping for, but hey you do the math, seventy dollars at the salon or ten at home.

Is there even a contest?

The Whole Bean and Nothing But...

Here I thought I was doing so well... I went out to buy Dunkin' Doughnut brand coffee to make at home to save myself a few extra dollars a week by alleviating the need to run through the drive through each morning and what do you think happens? I go to make myself a pot of coffee this morning, open the new bag of coffee and come to the sad realization that I've one little problem...

I've no grinder and a bag full of whole beans!

Attention to detail is so not my thing...

Good Morning

My Mother is starting to confuse me with comments left under different user names. But I have to admit this Coyote Girl thing is weirding me out... I mean really... How many different personalities is one woman allowed to have? And should I consider this like some sort of cry for help? Or is this simply yet another case of Mom forgetting her password to her google account and needing to make up another to be able to leave a comment? Something tells me one of my guesses isn't too far off the mark... Then again, as I've already managed a conversation with her earlier on, it wouldn't be fair if I didn't admit that I already know the answer... Still it does make one ponder the question...

The "Binky" thing however has got to go. I don't know how many times I've got to object to this new found nickname that my Uncle Scott decided after 32 years I suddenly needed to have, but here I am, objecting once again.

I object. I object on the moral high ground of not wanting to be called Binky. And seriously, if I needed to have a nickname - which for all intents and purposes, I don't - Binky wouldn't even be my last choice, let alone a choice at all. And I've had nicknames, nicknames that don't need repeating... Although Brat was close to accurate, Spacey had a certain ring to it, and Stay Free was more atune to certain times of the month than anything else. However, if it needs repeating and obviously we've reached the point in the road where it does, I'm absolutely insisting that Uncle Scott reprogram his cell to read Stacey and not Binky when he calls me... And as for my Mother, need I remind her who (WHO!) is listed as her second health care proxy! One more word of Binky and I'm pulling the plug on the root canal!

Searching For My Yellow Brick Road

Guilty though I may feel for giving those of you who read this blog nothing to read for the past few days, I've come to an understanding - if only with myself - that there are moments in time when I simply must choose to walk away from my computer.

As for my thoughts, well... They're all still here, waiting patiently for me to deal with them one by one. The only problem is I'm not sure just how to deal with them at all. Answers that seem like they should be easy don't feel easy. And maybe that's my problem... Maybe it's me whose not willing to put in the effort anymore.

Weeks like this make me feel a little lonely. And since I've a penchant to lean towards the depressed end of things, it's never a wise idea for me to give in to the feeling for too long. What I should have done this week, a week with my daughter away at her father's, I didn't do. I chose to spend my free time behind my desk at work, putting in the overtime, catching up on things I couldn't get to during the regular business day... Even the night time janitor who cleans the office mentioned it to me last night. "You must be really good at your job," he said. "You're always the only one here so late." And while I am good at my job, the truth is I use my job as a distraction from having a real life. It's easy to say you need the overtime when you're living on a single income. It's harder to say that you've no life to go home to.

Now don't go getting your knickers in a twist. When my daughter is home, I have a life. And that life revolves around her. But this world doesn't need another Mommy Martyr and my daughter needs a better example than a woman who merely exists just to get by.

The truth is I get to the point where I just say that right here, right here it's good enough and I stop pushing myself to get those things that I really want. And to me the answer is easy... The moment it's sink or swim, I start doggy paddling my way back to shore because it's safer there. Safer not to try than to try and fail. And failure is not something that I want to find out I'm good at doing.

There's a secret notebook in my head and everyday the same list of wants waits to be checked off. That list hasn't changed in twelve years. Everything that was on it, is still on it because I haven't really tried to check them off. Sure I've given it a half hearted effort every now and then but I haven't really meant it. And now all I can think about is how much time I've wasted, waiting to be me.

I feel like a skip on a record. The girl who got stuck. Stuck in a storyline she didn't write, handed the lines to her script and told to read, no improvising... It's easy to find an excuse when you want one. To find that place on a timeline where you can point out the exact time and place where things went wrong. It's right here I would say. I could tell you the year, the month, the day, the hour, the very minute on the clock when it went wrong. But what good would that do me? The past has been written, and right now it's my future that I'm worried about.

What I want is start checking that list off of the things I want to do but haven't done. What I want is to dream big and let no moment go by wasted or unused. What I want is a commitment to myself from myself, a promise to see things through.

So what I'm really saying here is that we're about to share some incredible moments. Posts that will make you want to slap me silly, posts that may have you laughing before you've read it all the way through, posts that may trigger some thoughts about your own life and the progression of where you are to where you'd like to be... And since we all know it's far more easier to accomplish random goals with friends, I invite you to be a part of this journey with me. Pick something from your own imaginary list, and go for it...

We've nothing to lose... And everything to gain.

Roasted Nuts

Can I simply blog to say I'm too tired to blog or does that seem a bit ridiculous?

What can I say? My house tackled me and forced me to clean it up from top to bottom... Or to be more truthful, the rooms that really needed cleaning made me anti up with a dish cloth and a vacuum cleaner. Needless to say, getting the house back in order took precedence tonight over writing my Ren Fest review...

However I have to leave you with a highlight because I found it quite silly and funny and maybe a wee bit on the it had to be said side of a portion of a conversation. So there we were, heading downhill on a gravel path when a man carrying an unnamed number of roasted nuts in carrot shaped bags called out, "Would you like to grab me nuts?" And me, being the type of girl who is quick on the draw when it comes to comebacks, sidles up to him and replied, "Believe it or not, that's not the first time I've been asked that..."

Thus proving my point (yet again, and again) that my mouth works of its own accord.

Half Asleep

Octavia - the wack job kitten wants affection. Me, I just want sleep. I'm completely beat and the post I was going to write tonight about today's Ren Fest fun is going to have to wait until I wake back up... And since Tavi is intent on walking all over my lap top in her desire to gain my attention, it's probably best to just give up and write it tomorrow.

So goodnight, goodnight, goodnight...

Blog Before Bed

My daughter was just showing me her new travel blog her grandmother has inspired her to write in preparation for an upcoming trip to Ireland and KC not knowing what to write decided to start off her first entry by using a picture my Mom took last year while she was in Italy...

Since the minor child's blog is set to family members only, I'll recreate an exact copy of it here... Entitled "Leaning Tower of a Pizza." (Her words, not mine...)

Growing Up Slightly

I'm beginning to believe that my daughter talks more than I do... Something I might add I didn't think at all humanly possible. But for the last fifteen minutes - though it could be more - the kid has been singing herself silly in the living room. Something that I wish she'd stop doing since it's distracting as hell when I'm trying to find something to write about this morning. And if you ask me, she's doing it on purpose just to be, well... Hell bent on being eleven, which is synonymous with annoying for those of you who may be wondering.

In other news...

Tori Amos tickets went on sale yesterday for an upcoming concert near me and I - unlike the time before when I bought two front row tickets in favor of paying my overdue energy bill (which quite literally left me in the dark one night when I got home) I opted out. And as surprised as I am to say this, I really don't care. Maybe I'm growing up, and my hero worship levels are going down but it doesn't really matter anymore if I see her live or listen to one of her CD's while banging about the house. I guess and again I can't believe I'm saying this, it's just not that important to me anymore.

Meanwhile...

Susan and I are planning on taking our kids to the Renaissance Fair tomorrow since they enjoyed it so much last year they begged to go again. And like a Star Trek convention, there are those who go to enjoy it and those who enjoy it a little bit too much. Every year it gets harder and harder to pick the people out who get paid to be in costume from the people who merely wait for the opportunity to speak with phony English accents and wear clothes that do little to keep their breasts from spilling out in every direction. Thankfully I've yet to give in to this affliction myself, leaving my breasts sufficiently covered up (for the most part anyway) for the time being.

I do however look forward to what has now become a tradition of sorts for KC and I... And once again, we'll make sure to make a beeline for the caricature booth to get our picture drawn. What we'll end up being this year is anyone's guess... After all, once you've been a Princess, a Queen, a Fairy and an Elf... What's left?

I Am So "The Girl"

Alright. Alright. I know you're all dying to know if I went through with the whole I'm just dropping in to say hi and drool all over Bob bit, and I have to tell you that I one hundred percent did, and did for well over an hour. An hour of flirtatious eye contact, lots of shared smiles, and the all important tell Sheila everything I want Bob to know so that what I didn't get around to saying myself, I can depend on her to fill him in on the moment that I'm gone... (My Momma didn't raise no fool...)

And oh it went well... Very well. And yummy. Which was to say that he was, and I couldn't help myself from drinking in the sight of him. Which would make me sound a bit shallow until I follow it up by saying that Bob is one of the nicest men I've ever known. KC actually likes him too... But then again, I think she was won over the last summer we called home, well home - when Bob played cats in the cradle with her on the front porch.

But I'm getting ahead of myself... Today was only day one of Mission: Get A Date With Bob and there's still a little bit more behind the scenes networking to be done. Rest assured dear readers that the hook has been baited and the fish is on the line...

Silly and Serious

Tomorrow is THE day. This is what I've decided after weeks of thinking about it but doing nothing... And really, I've got a great excuse with KC going to spend the day with good old Grandpa tomorrow. I mean really if I'm already in the neighborhood, it would be absolutely rude of me NOT to drop by and say hello to Sheila, Jeff and of course, Bob... Sigh... Bob ... Available, guitar playing, church going, sweet and sincere, too good to be true country boy ready to settle down with the love of a good woman Bob... That Bob. And I am a good woman. An available, no longer waiting around for someone to get his head out of his ass, good woman.

On another note... A more serious note in fact, I could use a few get better prayers sent up in the direction of heaven. My cousin Matt is in critical condition with a serious head injury sustained from falling off a second story balcony earlier this morning, and while we did get the good news that his neck is not broken and he hasn't suffered any permanent paralysis, he's still not quite out of the woods. So if you could send one up, I know that everyone in my family, including myself, would appreciate your prayers.

Something...

Nothing...

Watching an interesting show on Bravo tonight featuring Whoopie Goldberg... And I have to say, I never really got just how cool she is.

Anyhoo... That's it.

More tomorrow.

Ummm... Yeah.

Getting the Message (Again)

It's been a few weeks since I've been to church... And while I never set out intentionally not to go, I haven't been going all the same. And I've found that when I don't go, when I don't commit myself to Sunday morning, it really does manage to throw me out of whack. Certainly an odd ball experience for a woman who for the past ten years has managed to avoid all forms of organized religion.

If I were being honest - something that I find extremely easy to be until I have to analyze my own behavior - I'd say that I've been falling into the not so thrilled with God category again. And I realized just this morning, that the problem isn't with God at all but with me, because I keep expecting something more from faith than what faith is really all about.

I guess I've been waiting for some sort of sign. Something along the lines of, "Hey Stacey... It's been good to have you back at church, and now that you've finally come round to the right side of the road, it's time to start granting you some goodwill wishes... "

But God is neither a vending machine nor a magic genie. And God can't make things right for us when things go wrong unless we're prepared to assist in our own recovery. We have to want it, and work for it, side by side with faith. Without faith, it's easy to blame God rather than accept the blame as our own.

And so I cried - yet again - in church today. (A telling sign that I was exactly where I needed to be.) Trying my hardest to keep myself together, to hide my tears. Feeling stupid and ashamed that my emotions were getting the best of me in public. Trying to train my eyes (my eyes that give everything away) from looking at anyone else, concentrating mostly on the floor while holding onto the pew in front of me to keep myself from running out the door because I couldn't (couldn't being the key word) make myself sing the song.

I’m forgiven because You were forsaken.
I’m accepted. You were condemned.
I’m alive and well,
Your Spirit is within me
Because You died and rose again.

I forced myself to plant my feet and listen to that entire song. And I knew that my meltdown wasn't going unnoticed. I know I didn't imagine the lay minister looking right at me when he asked us to bow our heads in silent prayer and pray for those of us who came to church today with sorrow in our hearts. And I don't imagine he asked us all once again to sing the last verse of the song I couldn't sing to reach out and say, "Yes... You are forgiven. This is something you need to know..."

I can never hide my heart in the House of God, not like I can wherever else I go. My personal motto has always been, "But you will not know." And I think there are a lot of people like me, people who have been let down so many times by the people they care about and the world in general, that they just reach the point where they simply can't allow it anymore. And instead of hanging on, and trying to work whatever it is out, it's easier to dull yourself down to a place where the pain can't be felt.

Going to church makes me recognize that I'm choosing to walk around with rocks in my pockets. Rocks of things I will not forgive myself for, rocks for people I will not forgive. And these rocks I insist on carrying have become for me a weighted albatross hung round my neck, a burden for my heart and my heart alone to carry. There can be no doubt that one of the lessons I'm meant to learn is the rightness of learning how to let some things go... After all, I don't believe I'm going out on a limb when I say that God didn't expect us to be pack mules for pain.

Lessons however are much easier in theory than practice and I am a frequent stumbler between getting things right and getting things wrong. Sometimes even though I know I've set out with the best of intentions, I still manage to make major blunders and botch things up without barely blinking an eye. Between sheer stubbornness and outright pride - two vices I'm well aware don't make my lesson learning any easier - it's hard for me to find my way to the high road when I suffer from an insatiable need to be right. Always right. Always in control.

The truth is there isn't always a right way and a wrong way... Sometimes there has to be a middle ground. And sometimes we have to be willing to meet the people that mean the most to us in it. Maybe we said some things that shouldn't have been said, maybe we did something we shouldn't have done, maybe we both made mountains out of molehills, and maybe neither one of us wants to admit to our mistakes.

I have to ask myself if it's worth it. Is the price to be right too high a price to pay when what you sacrifice is a significant part of yourself?

This is the message. Part of the lesson I've learned at church. That Jesus didn't turn his back or cast judgment on anyone. He opened his arms and forgave... He did it with love, and he did it with faith.

Not Again...

What crack my sister is on I'll never know... Once again she's managed to piss me off without even really trying... Or maybe she is trying and I'm not giving her enough credit. I just don't know.

She doesn't call, and really, I'm okay with the whole only hearing from her when I happen to be in the same room with her sort of thing we've got going on. I mean it's worked so well for all these months I'd really hate to break our streak this far into the run... But she calls tonight and she's all happy, too happy really, with this insincere singsong tone to her voice dripping all this sugary sweetness that reminds me of a nectarine left on a summer sidewalk to rot beneath the sun, and I just know... Know I'm not going to like whatever it is that's about to come out of her mouth.

"So I work with this guy Colin... And I gave him your number, and he's going to call you tomorrow. And he's a really great guy. Really has it altogether. Even has his own place."

And she keeps going on, endless with compliments for this guy Colin whom I'm assuming must be within earshot because she's laying it on so thick that no self respecting man would actually consider this a steller endorsement of any kind. (I can only imagine he's hearing all this and thinking in a brainless sort of way that she's being helpful.)

And still she keeps going... One hundred and one reasons later of why this guy couldn't possibly be a loser, my sister still doesn't make the connection that anyone she'd think to endorse is not anyone I'd ever consider talking to, let alone dating. And I'm listening, well half-listening really as I'm trying to watch the movie I was watching before she called, just waiting for her to stop talking and start breathing so I can tell her I have to go and get back to what at this moment in my life is more important. My couch, my movie and a quiet night at home with my kid and my cats... Spinsterhood here I come...

Mutual DNA aside, my sister doesn't have a clue about what I actually find appealing in a man. But what really gets me is that without my consent, she's given my private number out. Private being the key word. I mean the whole part about private is that I'm the one who gets to decide who gets those seven numbers directly associated with me. I'm the one who gets to decide who gets to be at the other end of that phone that's ringing mine. And what I really feel like doing right now is going to the grocery store or some other equally public place for a little payback. But that I suppose would be a bit juvenile... Just... But juvenile.

She just doesn't get it... And for reasons unknown to me she thinks she's doing me some great big favor. Little Stacey needs a man after all... And lord knows she can't pick them any better so we might as well make this a family effort.

And seriously, to hell with that idea... I'll call Jason, Mr. Needs to Have His Hands Surgically Amputated From His Arms back before I'd ever agree to letting my sister pick my men for me.

(Insert frustrated scream here.)

An Interpretation of Violence

We try to make it something less than what it is. Needing to believe that all of this can just be random. These horrible things that happen, they happen to other people, other people in places far away from where we are. Things like this, things that don't happen to you or me...

In our own ways we can make them seem less real than what they are, these stories that end up as front page news. Screaming headlines and bylines, banter across our TV and computer screens allowing us to choose, to read, to hear, to make ourselves aware of every little last detail. This is what happened. This is when. And this, this is where it happened and to who.

Families touched by violence. Families torn apart by violence. Families. Friends. Neighbors. Strangers we'll never know. People we thought we did...

But I am here to tell you that there's absolutely nothing random about violence. It touches us no matter who we are, no matter where we go, no matter if we were there or not. It claims a corner in our living rooms. It's on our mind when we lock our doors at night. It's why we're so careful all the time. Why we do everything that we possibly can to protect ourselves from dangers we've not even allowed ourselves to imagine.

Some call it living in fear. And some would say that's no real way to live at all. My friend Toni likes to say, "When it's your time, it's your time." But I don't believe that. I don't believe God closes his eyes and walks away waiting for all of it to just be done. Even if it is our final moment, our final breath, I believe he's right there, surrounding us with love, holding our hands whispering words of encouragement and faith. He gives us strength when our own is waning. He fills our hearts with the courage to go on and for those whose options are stolen away by whatever violence has claimed, he gives us that same courage to let go.

I understand why people don't want to know. I understand why people choose to ignore it when bad things happen. I understand their fear far better than I do my own. Self-preservation cannot allow danger to get that close to their doors. It is information too much for them to bear. If it can happen to you... If it can happen to me... If both of us are failable, if both of us can know harm, it is we who become the unwelcome messenger, delivering the news that violence is not the random fiend they think it is. Random is what you do not know. The name you never knew to speak. The face your eyes have never met.

But I am not unaffected and I cannot turn a blind eye to the violence that lays waste to humanity each and every day.

One in four.

One in five.

Every ten seconds.

Every ten minutes.

Every hour.

Every day.

Another face. (You know...)

Another name. (You don't know...)

Another someone we might have known.

Another person we'll never meet.

They're out there.

We're out there...

Living with.

Dying from.

For reasons no one will ever pretend they have an answer for.

For reasons that defy anyone to comprehend...

Frustration Mounting

Almost a big oops on my part tonight... Almost lost the whole damn blog and I'm feeling more than a might pissy over the whole damn thing!

And I suppose that this is exactly what I get for being an ultra overprotective Mama... I try to make the world just that much safer for my offspring, and BAM, I manage to make it look like my eleven year old has been posting my blog for the past 4 years...

Not to worry... I sent the good people at Blogger a little love note, and I'm sure that someway, somehow, they will find a way to help me correct this grievous error...

Hell, I'll even admit that I'm a complete idiot if that's what it takes to get the wonderful support staff at blogger to un-botch my mistake... (And yes, I am laying it on thick here.)

So here goes... Cause you know I've no problem admitting this freely...

There are moments when I can be an absolute moron.

Is This Thing On? (A Blog on the Dreadful Lack of Comments)

My brain is absolutely fried and I should have been in bed a half hour ago... But here I am, music ringing in my ears and writing a blog that no one is going to read. And it sure would be nice to get some feedback now and then from someone, anyone really... I mean hello, I did have a near death experience yesterday! And no one and I do mean no one felt the need to say, "Hey, I'm glad you're still around..."

I am so not feeling the love here people. And I'm generally a needy person in this category... So seriously, help a girl out.

Meanwhile in other news, I am so not feeling my fingers anymore... They've gone numb from too much typing and too little thinking today. It's nice however not to think as much as I usually do so I'm scratching that from my list of complaints... At least for now or until I need something to bitch about which if I check my watch should give us at least five minutes before the tide will turn...

Anyhoo I'm off to bed to dream my dysfunctional dreams because for once I just don't have all that much to say... Well, maybe just goodnight.

A Little Help From Above

I almost met my maker this morning and I can tell you that unlike other people who might have said that their life flashed before their eyes, the only thing that ran though my mind was one simple thought, "Please don't let this hurt..."

And really that was the only thing I could think of as I sat like a sitting duck in my car with my eyes squished tight and a monosyllabic scream emitting from my throat while a large SUV came barrelling over to my side of the road as if he had lost control or lost his mind... (Whichever came first...)

The diagram I so cleverly created (during the last 15 minutes of my work day) to help re-enact the almost accident (for your reading pleasure) is as true of a representation as my non-artistic hands can draw. The details go a little something like this...

It was early... Early enough to know that my coffee was too hot to drink, there weren't any good songs on the radio and the van in front of me was nearly impossible to see around. I was taking my time, running early for once to work and in no great rush to get there when I noticed that the van in front of me was breaking hard, breaking way too early for the four way stop ahead. Being the law abiding driver that I am, I started breaking myself, anticipating what I didn't know ahead of me, but anticipating something all the same.

It happened as fast as a strike of lightning. On a narrow road with barely any shoulder to speak of, a high speed SUV - for reasons unknown - suddenly leaped from his own lane to ours. I looked up and suddenly he was there directly in front of us, the white van and I. And I thought for sure that this was it. He was going to plow into the white van and right into me and we were all about to be toast. Instead he jerked his wheel, hit the shoulder at max speed and kept going for all he was worth, passing my car on the right passenger side so close that I had to check twice to see if my mirror was still intact.

After I remembered how to breathe, and yes, this did take a minute or so, it was if nothing had even happened. In my rear view mirror I could see that public menace number one had made it back into his own lane, and traffic around me was continuing on as if nothing out of the norm had happened. But there I was wanting answers. Wanting to know exactly what happened and why and a little bit pissed that this driver didn't even have the sense to pull his damn car over and cool his jets before continuing on his merry little way despite the fact that he came damn close - too close really - to annihilating two people in two cars on a Monday morning...

On the bright side however, I've got to be thankful for whatever blessing kept us all out of harms way...

Thanks Guardian Angel... We'll do lunch. Soon... Just not too soon...

The Last Installment of Harry Potter

I bought it yesterday morning. Read the entire thing last night. And now I know how it ends after all this time. Not to worry however, I'm not going to give anything away about how it all panned out...

If anything I'm simply a little bummed out knowing that all things must reach their own conclusions... Even good books.

Now Not Then

I've been waiting to write this post for the past few weeks. Counting down the numbers that brought me closer to this, my sixty-third post of the year, the same number of posts I wrote last year.

And they are more than just simple entries.

They are my story. The sad truth of a year lived in sorrow, a year spent hiding and living with fear. And I cannot be honest with anyone if I say that I came through all of that just fine. The truth is I came out on the other side fractured in ways I am still learning. Things that make me cringe, things that make me want to run as far and as fast as I can.

I know what it's like to be emotionally crippled. To be broken down slowly, one small piece at a time, until the only thing you can feel is the fault he lays at your door. Whether he meant to be that teacher or just came by it naturally I'll never know. All I know is that I am thankful for where I am and for where he is not...

Cleaning Up the Chaos

I'm living on cheese sticks. String cheese sticks to be exact and not their really unhealthy counterparts deep fried in oil and served with marinara on the side. My idea of dinner these past few nights has been grabbing two of those babies out of the fridge, a glass of water to wash them down with and then wishing fervently that there was a pint of ice cream hiding somewhere in my freezer somewhere behind the packages of frozen chicken and the spare rigi sauce I ration for emergency comfort food moments.

All in all tonight hasn't been all that bad, aside from almost breaking my ass from tripping over my vacuum which I forget to put away. After talking to my Mother for almost two hours last night on the phone - burning my minutes before nine no less - I decided that it's high time I start getting myself back together from this little mini meltdown I've been having. Which is why I came home and started cleaning like a mad woman tonight. You see, if there's one thing I know - and know well, it's that the state of my house is a clear indication of the state of my life. If my house is a mess, so am I...

So I'm cleaning it up, putting books back on bookshelves, folding laundry and putting it away, vacuuming the dust bunnies and restoring order to my home. And already, I feel better. More in control then out of it. And that's how I want to be. I don't like being sad and miserable and whatever else I'm prone to being when things aren't how I would like them to be. Because I'm really much better being the fast thinking smart ass girl who can pull a punchline out of thin air and make people laugh even if the joke is on them.

Meanwhile I wish I had the money to hire me some Merry Maids... Preferably of the male variety. I just love a man who knows his way around a feather duster.

Even I'm Not Listening...

I'm becoming my job... Working all sorts of hours to avoid going home and the deafening quiet that exists when KC is away. And she's away from home again, gone for the next five days to visit with her Dad. So at five o'clock I don't rush home. Instead I sit in my office listening to everyone else leave.



Tonight I came home, sat on my couch and cried. Cried because nothing feels right to me anymore and I haven't figured out if it's me or just the rest of the world that I need to blame. What I want to know is the why. The why nothing ever comes easy to me. Why everything seems like an unobtainable goal. Why it seems so damn easy for everyone else to get it altogether while I'm still fumbling around in the darkness trying to pull myself together.

What happens when you're thankful for what you have but know you're still missing crucial elements of what you need? I don't want to seem ungrateful - and this is how I usually put it in my prayers to God - but if someone could clue me in on what this big lesson I need to learn is, I'd like the opportunity to right whatever wrong I'm guilty of. You know, wipe the slate clean, start all over again, make things right, fix what's broken, get on with things, move forward in a new direction, turn over that new leaf...

Instead I keep getting tested, and re-tested, and then tested some more. It's like a boxing match... In this corner we've got Tate, Tate who is unhappily married but would like me to count him as a do-able option. While in the opposing corner Chance is hoping I'll consider taking up where we left off - but really, after the whole night spent half alone in Vermont, I think I've already had my wake up call with that one. Meanwhile in the corner closest to me, the man I want to be in my sights is nowhere to be seen. And it may just be my wake up call was eight months ago and I'm a little late on answering it...

The last corner of course is mine and without a doubt I have been and can be my own worst foe. I can fuck myself over quicker than any man on this planet. Find me a wall and I'll make sure I find a way to run into it at least twenty times before I find my way around. And while it all sounds quite funny in a she just fell out of her chair and broke her elbow sort of way, I can assure you that after the first few years of getting it wrong, I did eventually think I was going to get it right... But I guess that joke it on me because seriously, who knew I'd be so damn good at getting it wrong?

Living With the Forgotten

I woke up this morning with the idea of a dream still lingering on my mind. It seems I'm doing a lot of dreaming these days. Dreams that pull the past back to the present with all the faces I've forgotten.

So many years and each one seems to have been just yesterday. So many changes, good and bad. So many opportunities passed by and still waiting in the wings. So many, many things that I remember in a smile, in a word, in a name I hadn't thought to speak for years.

I've lived my entire life with my eyes on the door, always better at remembering the things I've lost, always realizing too late where my mistakes were made. I've lived and I haven't lived at all. Scared that one more wrong move on my part is going to get me lost for good. And getting lost, if you haven't figured it out by now, is my biggest fear. It's where the monsters are...

Put your brave face on. Maybe it's ridiculous for a woman of my age to need that reminder. And yet, I fake confidence well. Well enough if you don't notice my hands wringing themselves away. Well enough if you don't wonder why you can't comment on the color of my eyes. Well enough if you don't think there's so much more you're not seeing.

Miscommunication

Be mad at me. Because it's easier for you to be angry at me right now than it is to be mad at someone else or even yourself. Be mad at me because I've spent the past few months trying to be on your side, on no ones side or at least standing safely in the middle; knowing all the while that there truly was no middle ground.

Be mad at me because I'm saying the same things you told me when I was living with Ed, the same things I didn't want to hear, was scared to hear, but needed to hear all the same.

Be mad at me when you know you're not listening to yourself, that you're still not happy. Be mad at me because you need to hurt someone right now that might actually feel something akin to pain.

Be mad at me because you don't know where else to direct your anger because everything is just too much and you don't know how to live with it anymore, or where to begin to make things better.

Be mad at me because I'm an easy target, a target who doesn't move and doesn't run away. Be mad at me because I see things with a different set of eyes and a mouthful of my own opinions be they right or wrong.

Be mad at me because I'm your best friend and regardless of how many times you hang up a phone on me, there is never a time when I won't return your call.

Be mad at me... But get over it soon.

Help Wanted

Relatively intelligent female seeks information on how to properly inflate car tires as attempt to do so herself earlier this evening seems to have deflated them even more...

Same female also admits to adamant refusal to seek help from gas station attendants when it became painfully obvious that she had no idea what she was doing, choosing instead to ring her best friend on phone for moron support despite friends urging that she "Suck it up and ask for help..."

Woman in question plans to leave for work very early in the morning to attempt aerating her tires to their proper pressure... Even though she has absolutely no idea what that is. She does know however that this time she should turn the air on...

Signing off. Saying goodnight. Going to bed. Trying all of this again... Tomorrow.

My Kind of Sunday Drive

Octavia demands attention from her strategical post next to my computer, flopping around like a fish until she falls clear off the side of my small antique desk, landing of course, as all cats do, on her feet.

Meanwhile I can't help but wonder how KC is faring at camp. These past two nights the skies have unleashed an ocean of rain upon us. You don't think much about it when you're inside, a storm is just a storm, and yet outside with nothing more than a tent for protection, a storm becomes something quite scary altogether.

Even my Dad got into the worried wart act, calling earlier to see if KC had checked in with a status report of her first night away from home. Considering the cell phone ban at camp, I gently reminded him that we're pretty much clueless until Friday pick up time. Thankfully - and no thanks to my Dad - I'll be able to find my way back to get her.

Considering my horrid sense of direction, I asked Dad to to go along for the ride yesterday as my co-captain of navigation. However when Dad suggested a direction not in accordance with the directions I'd (thankfully) written down from an earlier search of Google Maps, I opted to ignore him (which was really quite reminiscent of my more formative years from about 14 to 21) turned the car around and got us back on the right track while he sat quite smugly on his side of the car, waiting for an I told you you're going the wrong way so moment.

(It turns out Dad was a bit confused on the actual destination of where we were (key word here is were) going, directing us instead to Watertown... I'll give my Dad a little bit of credit here as he would have been right on how to get Watertown, had that been our actual destination. Dad was later stripped of his co-captain capacity...)

I did however learn an important lesson for future direction taking down... North, South, East and West aren't just arrows on a compass... (And like, who knew?)

Evidently I need to remember to write more down that just the route number... Imagine the fun time I had when I got to the route I needed and was given two options to choose from. (TWO!)

A little eeny, a little miney, and a wee bit of moe later it turns out my guess was right and North was (heck, I'm still shocked I guessed right) the way to go, proving once again that even though I'm sometimes at a loss for common sense, my luck hasn't completely run out... (I should also give a shout out of thanks to the kind police officer who didn't pull me over for speeding when he so could have... What can I say, I speed when I'm nervous...)

Little Nut Far From Home

My girl is gone away... Five sleeps and six days away from me with only a sleeping bag to keep her warm and a flimsy shelter to keep her safe.

And here I was so concerned that she'd be scared to watch me walk away and leave her there to fend for herself and make new friends. Instead it's me, worrying that maybe she's not warm enough or sitting too close to the campfire or scared as darkness begins to settle like a blanket over the pines.

"You're leaving already?" she asked me earlier when I told her it was time for me to leave, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

I smiled, pulled her in for a comforting hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "I don't think they're going to let me stay..."

I walked away wanting to look back but didn't, remembering a conversation I had earlier on in the week with my Mother about KC being just the right age to go to a sleep-away camp. I guess I just never considered that the person who wouldn't be ready might be me...

Coming Up For Air

Hurt collects like rain water and I seem to be a natural reservoir.

It's always been this way. As long as I can remember... When I was a kid, I could be as quick with a smile as I could with a wet face full of tears. Either way, I've never felt anything halfway. Regardless of my needs, regardless of my wants, I feel everything my heart has to offer.

Maybe I have no real reason to be sad right at this moment. But I am. Sad with a small smile on my face and a faraway look. The look you get when a million memories are knocking on your door and you let them in because you never think not to answer.

There are times when I wish I could unload everything, to drop this weight from my shoulders. And I know that it's me at the heart of my own burden. Because there are words inside me that I will not share...

Half Listening

Does anyone have any idea how difficult it is to blog and talk on the phone at the same time? I'm typing, Brenda's cleaning her coffee pot and our conversation is swimming in and out of some mixed form of consciousness which includes moments where neither one of us say anything until we realize we're on the phone not speaking, when suddenly I say...

"I just want to play Qbert... Right now!"

Needless to say this is as exciting as our Friday nights are at the moment...

Eds In All Shapes and Sizes

All my exes are named Ed, they are a conglomerate ranging from the first to the last and a mixture of potential un-potentials in-between. For the sake of tonight's post, I'll limit myself to referring to Ed (The First) father of my child in order to avoid any confusion you may or more than likely don't have.

Now normally Ed and I get along just fine in an uneasy sort of agreement of truce which is usually conducted by having as little to do with each other as possible and only briefly when absolutely necessary. It turns out - after many years of sniping at each other - that we get along much better this way.


However from time to time, Ed forgets that I'm not the woman wearing his ring (thanks be to God) and gets a little carried away with conversations that usually start out in the red with "And this is how it's going to be..." (See photo of little dick-tator... Note sarcasm of spelling.)

This of course generally necessitates my responding in a less then amiable manner, in other words, more sarcasm...

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that hell had finally frozen over..."

I had no doubt in my mind whatsoever that tonight's conversation was going to take a turn for the worse when within 3 minutes of saying hello to her Father, my daughter handed me the phone in tears. Inwardly rolling my eyes, and punching the button to put my phone on speaker (NY State mandates hands free use of cell phones while driving... Do not mistake this as some sick and twisted desire to hear him in surround sound. Ugh.) I said hello - with as much enthusiasm as I could muster after a long day at the office. (Note: My well of enthusiasm was on water saving measures.)

Anyhoo... Where was I... Oh yes, I was driving.

"I'm driving... I'll call you back in five." I said in the general direction of my phone before reaching over to click it back off. Looking over at my daughter, her face red with tears shed and un-shed, I gave her a gentle prod in a hey you've got to cheer up, it's not the end of the world, don't let him make you cry, you're still going to go to summer camp sort of way.

Meanwhile... Five minutes later at home, I eyeballed my phone, curled my lip like a miniature Elvis minus any hip shaking going on, and redialed Ed's number.

"I'd like to order a pizza... Skip the anchovies..."

Alright... I didn't really start the conversation out like that, although now that I think of it, it would have been a good tension breaker. (Storing that idea for next time... And oh yes, there will be a next time.)

Blah, blah, yada, yada, blah... Twenty minutes later... We had all but worked things out, at least kind of sort of, in an enough for one night sort of way, I really don't want to talk to you anymore but we can finish this conversation tomorrow or Saturday or after we put the kid through college, yada blah...

Now I know that wasn't the ending you were expecting, and to be honest that wasn't the ending I was planning to write, but it's 11:18 pm (two minutes away from my special time) and I've got to get myself to bed or else take the chance that I'll sleep through my alarm (like normal) tomorrow morning...

So here we go, this is where you - oh wonderful reader of mine (note my attempt to make you feel special) get to choose your own ending... Alright now... Choose away. (It's now my special time! Woo Hoo!)

(a) Ed and I realize that we still love each other desperately even after all of these years apart, he breaks the news to his current wife and we ride off into the sunset to live happily (n)ever after...

(b) Ed admits he was being a jerk and I being the gracious sort of gal that I am accept his apology with great humility...

(c) This entire post was a figment of a bad dream and never really happened...

(d) I tell Ed what he thinks he wants to hear, coax a little bit of the truth in with a little bit of un-truth and make us all happy to the point where we can go back into let's just ignore each other again for as long as possible stage...

(e) A compilation of everything above minus the get back together ride off into the sunset, anything with great and gracious humility and nightmares that happen while awake thing.

You pick... You choose... I'm out.

Music and More

Okay... So I'm back to my original thought that music on a page doesn't always work when the post you wrote it for (or with) is no longer the most recent one you've posted... With this in mind, I've decided to insert the music player on a post to post basis with the option for turning it on OR keeping it off. For those of you still using dial up (MOM!) this should alleviate excessively long page loading times.

Feeling Green

Maybe it's exhaustion... Can't quite put my finger on it other than to say it feels as if I've been spinning around in circles and now that I've stopped it still feels as if I'm spinning...

Cold tiles on the bathroom floor are starting to sound like an ideal spot for sleep...

Sleep itself is sounding like the best idea of all.

Laughing Myself to Sleep

I'm really liking this sonific songspot thing...

So many good songs by artists I've never even heard of.

Now if there were only a way to be able to allow for a selection to be played, one right after the other, kind of like a one CD compilation sound track of my life...

This one is a bit kooky, but it reminded me of a few Ed's I know...

Goodnight & Goodbye

There's no spark... No attraction... Nothing that really makes me want to get to know him more... From three dates, the latest being tonight's, I've pretty much figured out that I'm just not interested in pursuing a relationship with Jason. And to be honest I don't think Jason is all too honest about wanting to pursue a relationship with me, or if he is, he's going about it in all the wrong way.

Truth of the matter is I'm intent on learning how to do this relationship thing in a whole new way; taking it slow by taking my time all to avoid the fast track disasters I'm much more familiar with. And while a kiss goodnight wouldn't have (after three dates) been a big deal in the least, I didn't appreciate the constant poking, tickling, hands not kept to themselves attempts to look down my shirt, up my shirt, and other shananigans that went on last night while we were (or rather, I was) trying to watch the movie. Because after three dates, "No... Your hand does not belong on my breast, before, after or during the movie..."

And I just don't have the time anymore to figure out a guy who doesn't try for the kiss goodnight, but spends the entire night trying to feel me up when I made it more than clear that, "Yes... You can give me a kiss goodnight, but that's as far as it goes, and no you're not staying."

Damn... Aren't there any normal, non fuck-wit guys left on this planet?

Fare Thee Well...

I was never a big fan of adding music to a page, always worried that somehow it might distract from the reading, but when I write, it's usually with some sort of music pouring into my ears to set the mood and tone of the words I type...

The song playing today is one of my all time favorites, although it should be said that I like Mary Chapin Carpenter's version far better than June's... However when it's free, you take what you can find.

I first heard this song a fews years ago in the movie Fly Away Home. It was one of those songs that just spoke to my heart instantly. It reached right in, wrapped itself around and set up residence like there was no question that it belonged.


It reminds me of good times. When I close my eyes I see the slow ripples left behind in the wake of an oar pushing against the water and the blue, blue mountains above the lake. And I see a family... A small girl standing next to her mother holding a fish up with her hands for the camera to view, happy with simple pride. A family and a camp fire, their faces flushed with an orange glow, laughing, telling stories, their hands sticky from the remnants of s'mores already eaten... Mom filling in a new entry of a camp journal to be left behind. Dad cooking breakfast in a cast iron frying pan on an ancient stove. Amy and I snuggled up in sleeping bags, playing checkers while it rained, feeding deer fallen apples in the yard...


They were simple times. They were the best of times. Precious memories that make me smile, precious memories that make me cry...

Life is all about these little moments. They are the pictures we take, the smiles we share, the days we spend together, the times we spend apart. Made of belonging, made of falling apart, made of love, taken away by time... Minutes, days, months, years, lifetimes...

Moments we may try to re-create but can't, new moments we make with the families we start, with the children we call our own... With new fish on the hook, with new beds in which to sleep, with new names for us to call and be called, with new smiles we hope to share... With the love that is and always will be a part of who we are, together and alone...

With the one true direction we have and will always know...

And I... I will always fly away home...

A Little On the Short Side

What is with all the movies about penquins lately? Are they making a come back or something? Or does someone in Hollywood just really love penquins?

I think there must be some sort of penquin phenomenen going around...

Anyhoo... My brain is toast after putting in 12 hours at the office today... It wasn't my idea of a good time, but at least I'm one day closer to the weekend... Well, that is if I didn't just remind myself that I'm being forced to work on Saturday! Damn inventory and my inability to count!

** Adendum ** So I was all prepared to find myself up and about going to work this morning when I got the news that I was no longer needed... Since I wasn't going to get paid for this little bit of OT, there will be no complaints here... **

Accident Prone

Paper cuts hurt... Razor like cuts that mimic the feel of a thousand paper cuts hurt even more...

It seems in my haste to install an air conditioner in my bedroom tonight, I made a bit of a boo boo and caught my hands on something seriously sharp... Now I'm sitting here wishing I had a box of band-aids and the strength to go into the kitchen and mix myself up a cold drink. I don't however have the wherewithal to even think about touching the blender tonight (bad things come in threes) so for now I'm blocking out the cries of the coconut rum beckoning from its top shelf perch.

On the bright side I'm about to call it a night and enjoy falling asleep in my new and improved freezer conditioned room. And like my Mom always says, it's better than a sharp stick in the eye.

Times They Are A Changing... Again

I so am not wanting to go to work today... Can't explain just why, but I'm dreading another day...

And my best work friend Rebukkah (or Becky as she's more commonly referred to as) has ruined my life by putting in her notice...

This completely sucks! And I can tell you one thing, she wasn't thinking about me when she decided to quit!

Sigh... She's the only one who truly gets me. The only one quicker than I with a comeback and the ability to finish the punch line when I start a joke... The only one who breaks out in song with me during random moments of ridiculous... The only one who tries to rough up fellow employees for no other reason at all other than to humor me... The only one who could have given notice and made me wish she wasn't going anywhere at all...

Rules For the Road

Why am I tired again?

Maybe it's this damn heat... It's so hot. Even with the air conditioners running, it's not nearly cool enough in here.

My mind is already fixated on this weekend... I have to work Saturday (unpaid) for our quarterly inventory and I'm not thrilled in the least. There's nothing I hate more than puttering around for goodness knows how many hours wasting my time when I'm not really needed there... It's not like they let me count anyway... Not that I want to count at all... I wonder if they're making Mike work? At least if he were around I'd have some cheap amusement... So Mike, Mr. Tired With the Lights On, are you going to be there?

As for the rest of my weekend, Jason has already asked me if I'll have some time free to spend with him... And I have to admit, mad points in his favor that he's (a) asking days before the weekend and (b) that his follow through seems to be following through... There's nothing - at least in my book - worse than someone assuming you're content to sit on the back burner and wait... So mad points for Jason because it's nice to know that he genuinely wants to see me.

And in the words of my temporary turtle icon of love, this girl's speed has been set to slow...

To Sleep, To Dream

My brain is far too muddled to make even the shortest sentence make sense tonight...

So I'm off to bed... Off to dream...

Maybe I Do Like Long Walks...

The answer was no. No he did not get a kiss last night and no he did not get a kiss this afternoon either... Now before that statement has anyone thinking I let him stay the night, let me clarify by saying that I said yes to a second date this afternoon... (Did I ever mention that once I decide to do something, I do jump in with both feet and start swimming?)

Today's date consisted of trekking about the back trails of my local town park, furthering our conversation from where we had left off last night. To be honest, it was kind of nice, this walking and talking thing we were doing. I guess in my bizarre little world, I never really knew what the whole dating thing could really be like. This whole concept of doing things that don't consist of racing into a bedroom first is new to me... Which is not to say I've employed that maneuver with a vast amount of men, but I have been known to make that mistake thinking I was taking the fast track to gaining someones affections only to learn that I'd succeeded in making myself feel like a fool instead...

Maybe I should have been on this turtle kick years ago. Then again I am a slow learner when it comes to matters of the heart.

I did however learn something important last night. I learned that I need to expect more and not less from any man I allow in my life and I need to speak up when something makes me uncomfortable like the whole hand on leg episode in the theater. And I'm glad I did, because all in all it was an enjoyable evening...

Perhaps my faith in men - as well as myself - is on its way to being restored.

Saturday Night Special

Okay so I'm home now and ready to dish all about tonight and the I can't believe it's not butter date...

It was in one word, a little nerve wracking, well initially anyway. And then I decided to just get on with it, and hide my nervousness with a serious dose of self-confidence that I didn't in the least little bit feel...

Which is how we found ourselves down at the beach at the old midway walking around aimlessly with absolutely no intention of getting on any of their antiquated rides. It was kind of strange, strolling around with a stranger, making small talk about this and that and nothing in particular... We ended our walk just along the shore, and watched the sun go down over the lake...

From there we decided to give the movies a go, and though he may not have appreciated the input, I directed him back towards home using every shortcut imaginable... (I figured it wouldn't hurt to test him early on with how well he'd take my directions... And I do have to admit he passed with flying colors.)

So it was off to the movies we went and YES, he paid for everything, from the tickets to the concession, and I have to admit that was definitely a move in his favor. A move not in his favor however was how many times he put his hand on my leg during the movie, or attempted to tickle me. Although he didn't believe me, I wasn't kidding when I told him that if he touched me again I was going to break his hands... Note to self boys, if I've only known you for less than 2 hours, don't think it's acceptable to start getting all touchy feely... So while he watched the movie (Room 1408)I watched his hands and made sure he kept them to himself.

After the movie however, I was starting to get a little freaked out that he would expect some big old kiss upon taking me back to my car and I wasn't quite sure how I wanted to handle that... Instead the turtle mantra kept running itself around in my head screaming at me to pay attention. And there's nothing like picturing little turtles waving picket signs walking about on their hind legs to keep you from puckering up your lips.

But really, I know I'm not doing justice to this story right now considering all I haven't even mentioned which I should mention because it is noteworthy, but I am so tired and all I can think about at this exact second is sleep... So forgive me... I'll be back to quick edit all of this tomorrow...

Damn, damn, damn...

Fuck! (Excuse my lack of french) I have a date tomorrow night...

Year of the Turtle Takes a Downward Spiral

Asinine is standing in your kitchen whining to yourself that you don't want to call a boy and then getting on your computer to blog about not having done it yet...

Okay, okay... I'm calling...

Wah!

* Addendum...

F'ing voicemail! Shite!