She sees right through me... Gives me a hint of a smile, raising her eyebrows as if she had a question to ask rather than just to mimic the moves I make. She sees right through me and I search her eyes hopeful to see if any part of her remembers me and knows I'm there. I hold her hand and brush a kiss against her cheek, trying not to cry even as the tears steam down my face.
It breaks my heart to see her so helpless. Unable to do more than sit in her chair and wait. Wait to be moved from one spot to another, wait to be wheeled down to the dining room for dinner, wait to be wheeled back to be put to bed for the night. She's so tiny and frail... Too small to be the formidable woman I've always known her to be. My Grams... Dangerous with a cane, quick with words and independent to her core. Too much of everything to be reduced so dramatically before my eyes.
Grieving is a process that starts long before the body stops. My Mother has been grieving for months... And I know that a week just isn't long enough to help lift the sorrow from her shoulders, for me to remember every last line on my Grandma's face...
And so she sleeps... Sometimes muttering in a language that is all her own until she smiles and laughs deep in sleep, far away in dreams.
The Urge to Purge
I really need to schedule an appointment with one of those white coated people... As much as I dread the very thought of it, the simple fact that I haven't had one day in the past few weeks that hasn't consisted of feeling like I need to vomit every other second pretty much makes the decision almost easy. And let's be honest, WebMD only gives you about a million and one life threatening options to worry yourself silly over. So maybe this week I'll actually pick up the phone and make a call. Maybe.
In Want of Motivation
I really need to start thinking about getting ready to get ready to go out the door to the store and back in again to make something to bring to Karen's party tonight. I also really need to decide which costume I'll be wearing. The one that makes me look like bad drag in a blonde wig or the safe may I bring you a beer tavern wench. Decision, decisions, decisions...
Random Thoughts That Go Through My Head When I Hear the Neighbor Guy Start His Truck
Asking where a man goes at six something in the morning when he has no job to get to is kind of like asking yourself why keep sleeping if there's nowhere you need to be...
If it doesn't make sense, guaranteed I understand.
If it doesn't make sense, guaranteed I understand.
Here Again...
There are so many things running around my mind tonight that I've decided it would be pointless to give chase. Not to say that my mind hasn't come to rest on one thing in particular but as I'm as tired of stepping around it as I am of stepping right on it, it's enough to say I remember and leave it at that.
At the same time it's a true statement to say I really should be sleeping. It's a known fact that at this time of year my job more than makes up for any spare moment that I might think I have. Not that I have any. I live, sleep, eat and breathe work until the snow starts flying in earnest and it can't snow soon enough for me.
Here I am however taking up precious eye closing time to put a mouthful of miscellaneous on this page. I'm not really sure why other than the mood has taken me to write even as my brain has already taken leave.
That being said I've really nothing more to say... So it's me and the dogs and a date with my bed.
At the same time it's a true statement to say I really should be sleeping. It's a known fact that at this time of year my job more than makes up for any spare moment that I might think I have. Not that I have any. I live, sleep, eat and breathe work until the snow starts flying in earnest and it can't snow soon enough for me.
Here I am however taking up precious eye closing time to put a mouthful of miscellaneous on this page. I'm not really sure why other than the mood has taken me to write even as my brain has already taken leave.
That being said I've really nothing more to say... So it's me and the dogs and a date with my bed.
If You Lived Here...
Sometimes the only real thing you need is a hug.
On days when it's a challenge to keep your head above water, your mind on the task at hand and your mouth from saying more than a few things you both mean and don't mean, a hug can go along way...
Hugs are natural stress relievers.
On days when it's a challenge to keep your head above water, your mind on the task at hand and your mouth from saying more than a few things you both mean and don't mean, a hug can go along way...
Hugs are natural stress relievers.
Just a Long Day
It's been the kind of day where I wish I had it in me to just run far and run fast... To go until I run out of road and lose my way.
"Cover me up in a blanket of leaves, let the grass be my bed and my shelter this tree... I'll hibernate, let the months slip away... Let me sleep."
- Michelle Featherstone - Hibernate - Blue Bike album
I absolutely hate the feeling of being lost. And yet the truth is I am. Lost. And losing whatever strength I had left to fight. Some days it seems far easier to drop the sword and wave the white flag, to just admit defeat and say I'm done.
And as much as I've carried this all on my own for so many years... Holding up my world is only serving to push me down. And tonight it feels like the weight of my world is too much a burden to bear.
Fright Night Pre-Fright
So I Know without a shadow of a single doubt that God never intended for me to be a blonde... Ever.
In fact, I look like bad drag in a blonde wig.
In other words, me with blonde hair is something quite beyond scarey and should only be done as a last ditch effort to pull off a Halloween costume. That is if I have to nerve to go through an entire night wearing this hideous thing on my head. In public.
In fact, I look like bad drag in a blonde wig.
In other words, me with blonde hair is something quite beyond scarey and should only be done as a last ditch effort to pull off a Halloween costume. That is if I have to nerve to go through an entire night wearing this hideous thing on my head. In public.
A No Mouse House
There is a mouse in the house. I heard him screaming. In fact, it was his screaming that woke me up. I didn't know mice could scream but evidently when there is a cat trying to have them for a midnight snack, they've no problem becoming vocal.
Octavia had it cowering beneath the bathroom sink while I stood cringing near the door trying to figure out how to solve my latest home owning dilemma at an hour when cognitive thought is not my strong point. I grabbed a dustpan and a box in lieu of a broom that could not be found.
The plan?
Scoop the little rat bastard up and get him outside of the house. And it would have worked! Would have worked if the damn thing hadn't scurried below the bathroom shelves where I'm guessing must have been his original point of entry and that of his apparent escape.
With the cat standing guard in the bathroom, I'm hoping he won't be back for a second showing. At least not until I've had a chance to have some coffee...
Octavia had it cowering beneath the bathroom sink while I stood cringing near the door trying to figure out how to solve my latest home owning dilemma at an hour when cognitive thought is not my strong point. I grabbed a dustpan and a box in lieu of a broom that could not be found.
The plan?
Scoop the little rat bastard up and get him outside of the house. And it would have worked! Would have worked if the damn thing hadn't scurried below the bathroom shelves where I'm guessing must have been his original point of entry and that of his apparent escape.
With the cat standing guard in the bathroom, I'm hoping he won't be back for a second showing. At least not until I've had a chance to have some coffee...
On the Off Chance
There are things you know...
Things like no matter how early you go to bed, five minutes later your alarm is ringing to get you back up again. Or how when you're hungry for something that you can't quite name the thing you finally choose to have for dinner is never the thing you were hungry for. Or no matter how much it may seem like a reasonable request, your boss just won't go for bringing your dog(s) to work day.
Life is just unfair.
Things like no matter how early you go to bed, five minutes later your alarm is ringing to get you back up again. Or how when you're hungry for something that you can't quite name the thing you finally choose to have for dinner is never the thing you were hungry for. Or no matter how much it may seem like a reasonable request, your boss just won't go for bringing your dog(s) to work day.
Life is just unfair.
If You Lived Here...
If you lived here...
You would know. What it's like to grow up,
In a house that taught you.
Silence.
Taught you to be. What you needed to be. So as not to upset.
The apple cart.
If you lived here...
You would know. How many hours you would sit.
A wood stove. Burning hot at your back. Until you fell asleep.
Because you wouldn't.
Couldn't.
Eat your vegetables.
If you lived here...
You would be the cause. Of every voice raised.
In Anger.
Of every cross word said.
Across the table.
If you lived here...
You would remember plates.
Breaking.
And the picture that hangs. To cover the hole.
In the wall.
You would know. What it's like to grow up,
In a house that taught you.
Silence.
Taught you to be. What you needed to be. So as not to upset.
The apple cart.
If you lived here...
You would know. How many hours you would sit.
A wood stove. Burning hot at your back. Until you fell asleep.
Because you wouldn't.
Couldn't.
Eat your vegetables.
If you lived here...
You would be the cause. Of every voice raised.
In Anger.
Of every cross word said.
Across the table.
If you lived here...
You would remember plates.
Breaking.
And the picture that hangs. To cover the hole.
In the wall.
A Matter of Speaking
Sometimes it's perfectly okay to avoid people. It also happens to be a well known fact that people who annoy you should be avoided at all cost. And in my case, it's sometimes safer to be far away from those who annoy me than very nearby. Or at least able to hang up a phone quickly in order to hold my tongue. Let me explain...
You are an obnoxious asshole. The world would be a better place if you were castrated. The beauty of silence is only amplified when you're not speaking. Men like you make women like me want to become lesbians. Or join a nunnery. Or give up sex in general for the rest of our natural born lives.
I'm just saying...
You are an obnoxious asshole. The world would be a better place if you were castrated. The beauty of silence is only amplified when you're not speaking. Men like you make women like me want to become lesbians. Or join a nunnery. Or give up sex in general for the rest of our natural born lives.
I'm just saying...
Between Floors
According to my sources, I am the kind of person a person might want to get stuck in an elevator with. Granted they might change their minds within five minutes of that actually happening but I am more than happy to take a compliment in whatever form its given. It also helped to finally confirm what I've always thought... I have issues that others find entertaining! Sweet Jesus! Wonderful! I am relieved!
That all being said, I'm exhausted. Another wacko day at the office and I'm tuckered out and ready to sleep so I can wake up and do it all again tomorrow. Kind of like the sort of deja vu you don't want to keep experiencing. I have that. I am a long time sufferer of suffering on a daily basis.
Yes, my friends it's true... Put a creative girl in a boxed up world and you spend your days feeling cubed.
That all being said, I'm exhausted. Another wacko day at the office and I'm tuckered out and ready to sleep so I can wake up and do it all again tomorrow. Kind of like the sort of deja vu you don't want to keep experiencing. I have that. I am a long time sufferer of suffering on a daily basis.
Yes, my friends it's true... Put a creative girl in a boxed up world and you spend your days feeling cubed.
Awake and Sleeping
Why I'm bothering to write anything tonight is beyond me. I'm so tired from another goodness only knows how many hours I worked today day that I could quite literally cry from the sheer exhaustion of it all.
I should have also finished the post that I wrote yesterday but I'm afraid you're going to have to settle for disappointment tonight because that post is not happening. At least not until maybe - possibly - tomorrow. If I get to it that is.
But for now I am going to go upstairs with my dogs to curl up beneath the covers and get some sleep. I pray the alarm clock takes its time to wake me up...
I should have also finished the post that I wrote yesterday but I'm afraid you're going to have to settle for disappointment tonight because that post is not happening. At least not until maybe - possibly - tomorrow. If I get to it that is.
But for now I am going to go upstairs with my dogs to curl up beneath the covers and get some sleep. I pray the alarm clock takes its time to wake me up...
Celebrating the Harvest (Early)
I made a going back to school dinner for my daughter tonight. Call it a celebration if you will, because Lord knows I'm so over the moon ecstatic to send her butt back with book bag in hand that it was worth my effort to spend my afternoon cooking. So I made her her favorite meal. Oven roasted chicken (with thyme, rosemary and lemon) mashed potatoes with the requisite gravy, and corn on the cob. Followed by an apple crumble desert which she decided to pass on (without trying) made from the apples we hand picked yesterday at the apple farm.
Life is good...
Life is good...
A Moment To Get Sappy Over Fall
I have to take a moment to talk about the weather because it is the most fantastic fall like feeling day we've had since summer started winding down. And I have to say that I absolutely love how the wind is cold and crisp, and how something as simple as a sweater can warm you up and make you feel more alive than you have felt in months.
I love fall. It's true. Of all the seasons it is and will always be my favorite. From the colors painted on every leaf in every tree, to thoughts of candied apples and hay wagon rides, to walks in the woods over a dense Autumn floor. Fall is perfect. At least it always is for me...
I love fall. It's true. Of all the seasons it is and will always be my favorite. From the colors painted on every leaf in every tree, to thoughts of candied apples and hay wagon rides, to walks in the woods over a dense Autumn floor. Fall is perfect. At least it always is for me...
As Good As It's Getting
Bored beyond belief is sitting home with nothing to do and at the moment no one to call watching your cats and dogs have stare downs with each other. What makes it even worse is being amused by said stare downs...
I really, really do need to get out more. Oh yes.
I really, really do need to get out more. Oh yes.
Garden Sheds
I covet garden sheds. It's true.
All I have to do is catch a glimpse of one and I start salivating. Almost uncontrollably. I just can't help myself.
Give me a shed, throw in a window or two and adorn it with shutters and I am in love. Love, love, love, love, love...
Sadly I do not have a garden shed. At least not yet... Oh but a girl can dream.
Sunday's
You take a few days off and then when you try to figure out what to write about, you stare at your computer for twenty minutes and shoot down every idea that comes to mind. That being said, it's time to simply jump in and wing it. I'll keep it simple.
This weekend I...
Mowed the yard barefoot. And spent most of my time worrying that one wrong move on my part would end up with me lopping a toe off.
Purchased a new bedspread because it was far too good of a deal to walk on by. The downside? It doesn't match the current paint color of my room which means I'll have no choice but to change the color out. Not really a horrible idea really since I wasn't the one who picked the current color in the first place. Life lesson, don't switch bedrooms with your teenage daughter after you've already painted it in a color of her choosing.
Wrapped chicken wire around my light post to help my morning glories climb to their full potential. I'm thinking I've come up with this brilliant plan a little late in season but it's still worth a try.
Once again resisted the temptation to bring another Italian Greyhound into our home. Honestly though two is just not enough. It is however enough for me right now...
Made coffee and listened to the birds outside my window feeling lucky indeed to have my little cottage to call home.
This weekend I...
Mowed the yard barefoot. And spent most of my time worrying that one wrong move on my part would end up with me lopping a toe off.
Purchased a new bedspread because it was far too good of a deal to walk on by. The downside? It doesn't match the current paint color of my room which means I'll have no choice but to change the color out. Not really a horrible idea really since I wasn't the one who picked the current color in the first place. Life lesson, don't switch bedrooms with your teenage daughter after you've already painted it in a color of her choosing.
Wrapped chicken wire around my light post to help my morning glories climb to their full potential. I'm thinking I've come up with this brilliant plan a little late in season but it's still worth a try.
Once again resisted the temptation to bring another Italian Greyhound into our home. Honestly though two is just not enough. It is however enough for me right now...
Made coffee and listened to the birds outside my window feeling lucky indeed to have my little cottage to call home.
My Name Be Not Grace
I took a face planter earlier tonight in a parking lot and saved my face with my hands. To say my hands hurt would be putting it mildly. One hand is torn up from gravel ripping apart my skin and the other hand is mostly numb with sharp stinging sensations of pain pretty much whenever I move it. Save for my thumb that is because I can't currently feel my thumb.
There may or may not be medical attention needed at some point but for now Advil is my best friend...
There may or may not be medical attention needed at some point but for now Advil is my best friend...
Sleepy Head
When you need to go to bed and you insist on staying awake, it doesn't really work out all that well. So I'm going to take my own unsaid advice and call it a day and indeed a night as well.
Goodnight. Goodnight. Goodnight.
Goodnight. Goodnight. Goodnight.
Sketchbook Thoughts: If You Lived Here...
At some point I'm going to have to put pencil to paper and start my sketchbook. Until then I'll just jot my thoughts down here until I've the courage to mar its clean white pages with whatever it is I come up with to write...
I'd like to take credit for coming up with my topic all on my own, but the truth is that there was a list of choices to choose from and of all of those listed, this is the one that immediately said yes to me. It's not hard to explain why given my penchant over the last few years to talk about homes and what they mean or have meant to me. It was actually a no brainer, as most of my choices usually are, although rightly so some with better consequences than others...
I thought about how different my answers might be depending on who the You was... These are a few I wrote down earlier today. (Names of the guilty parties have been omitted for good reasons.)
I wouldn't have to drive hours and hours through endless mountain regions to see you... (Mom)
I'd take up sky diving with parachutes as an option only.
I might consider moving.
I'd have to rethink storage.
My heart would be filled with J O Y !
I wouldn't waste a moment. (Have I mentioned how much I miss my Grandmothers?)
We'd have tea and scones regardless of whether or not you like tea and scones while having the most fabulous conversations. (This ones for you Karl.)
I would probably want to throttle you 98.9% of the time.
I would kick you out after four hours.
I'd like to take credit for coming up with my topic all on my own, but the truth is that there was a list of choices to choose from and of all of those listed, this is the one that immediately said yes to me. It's not hard to explain why given my penchant over the last few years to talk about homes and what they mean or have meant to me. It was actually a no brainer, as most of my choices usually are, although rightly so some with better consequences than others...
I thought about how different my answers might be depending on who the You was... These are a few I wrote down earlier today. (Names of the guilty parties have been omitted for good reasons.)
If You Lived Here...
I wouldn't have to drive hours and hours through endless mountain regions to see you... (Mom)
I'd take up sky diving with parachutes as an option only.
I might consider moving.
I'd have to rethink storage.
My heart would be filled with J O Y !
I wouldn't waste a moment. (Have I mentioned how much I miss my Grandmothers?)
We'd have tea and scones regardless of whether or not you like tea and scones while having the most fabulous conversations. (This ones for you Karl.)
I would probably want to throttle you 98.9% of the time.
I would kick you out after four hours.
An Eye for Caution
Sometimes I sleep with the lights on. On the nights when I need them I like to take a book to bed. And even though my eyes are already closing before I've even managed to read the first word of the first sentence on the first page, I always open the book as if I'm really going to read. The book however is an excuse to leave the light on without having to admit to needing a night light on to fall asleep.
And then there are the nights when I absolutely need the light off in order to go to bed. Nights when the light is a beacon calling out my place in the world when all I want to do is hide. It seems that regardless of the lights being on or off, I rarely feel as safe as I know I should considering my penchant for checking every window and locking every door behind me. When it comes to being cautious, my motto is you can never be careful enough and I drive both myself and my daughter nuts with my need to keep us safe.
My daughter has learned to roll her eyes each time I recite the rules to her whenever she leaves the house. Her answer, usually said with a sigh, "I know Mom... I'm not stupid." How can I explain to my daughter that I can't help but be a bit too much when it comes to making sure there's nothing I've missed to keep her safe. I'm always nervous that there might be something that I've missed, something that I've forgot to say, some instruction that I didn't give to tell her what to do if a situation should arise.
But these are things I know she needs to know. And while I do not believe in teaching fear, I do believe in preaching safe.
And then there are the nights when I absolutely need the light off in order to go to bed. Nights when the light is a beacon calling out my place in the world when all I want to do is hide. It seems that regardless of the lights being on or off, I rarely feel as safe as I know I should considering my penchant for checking every window and locking every door behind me. When it comes to being cautious, my motto is you can never be careful enough and I drive both myself and my daughter nuts with my need to keep us safe.
My daughter has learned to roll her eyes each time I recite the rules to her whenever she leaves the house. Her answer, usually said with a sigh, "I know Mom... I'm not stupid." How can I explain to my daughter that I can't help but be a bit too much when it comes to making sure there's nothing I've missed to keep her safe. I'm always nervous that there might be something that I've missed, something that I've forgot to say, some instruction that I didn't give to tell her what to do if a situation should arise.
But these are things I know she needs to know. And while I do not believe in teaching fear, I do believe in preaching safe.
Blogging 101
There is absolutely no blogging while on vacation. Except for right now. Because now I'm blogging and I'm still on vacation. Although today is technically the last official day of vacation so I guess since I made it all the way through without saying a word, these few lines here aren't going to hurt a thing.
That being said, I need coffee. As in massive amounts of it. And then maybe a shower. And then after a shower maybe just maybe a trip to Barnes and Noble's because word on the street is there is a book there waiting for me to buy it.
Joy!
That being said, I need coffee. As in massive amounts of it. And then maybe a shower. And then after a shower maybe just maybe a trip to Barnes and Noble's because word on the street is there is a book there waiting for me to buy it.
Joy!
Fork In the Road
I don't lie.
I don't lie because I can't lie. I am what they call obvious. As in obviously lying.
So I don't lie.
Not because honesty is the best policy - although it truly is 98.9% of the time. But because I learned a long time ago that me trying to lie normally wasn't (a) successful or (b) worth the time it took to serve whatever punishment was measured out to make up for the lie or (c) going to get me much further along than just telling the truth.
So I don't lie.
This doesn't mean that I don't like to occasionally stretch the truth. I've done that. What girl hasn't? But no, I never did kiss that boy like I said I did on the back of the hay wagon when I was twelve. He did however give me a piece of gum and to this day I'll always remember it as one of the best pieces of gum I've ever had. Not that this has anything at all to do with what I'm trying to say...
What I'm trying to say is that I don't come out and say things just to have something to say. I truly believe in what I say and I honestly hope my own personal actions can and do back me up. When you live as far away from perfect as I do, you don't go around throwing stones at other people's homes whether they're made of glass or not just for the sake of having something to throw.
And there have been times when my honesty - or my stubbornness - has set in motion a series of events that will sometimes by my own choosing (as well as not by my choice at all) leave me standing at the sidelines while life continues on around me. The truth however is not that I am standing still but that I am in motion towards something better suited for who I am and what I believe. Beliefs that no matter how far I run or even how far I stray never lead me blind.
Creepy and Crawly
I killed this ugly little bugger just a little while ago... I wasn't quite sure what he was and to be quite honest wasn't too thrilled about finding out but decided to google his description anyway.
It turns out he's a house centipede. And on top of that a beneficial bug. Now let's backtrack on that statement because as far as I'm concerned the only beneficial bug I'm aware of is a dead one. This little guy however is said to be a big fan of eating other household pests such as spiders and whatever other sorts of creepy crawlers you may have creeping around.
Rules however are rules. And in this house any bug who violates the you shall not enter my domain rule gets squashed or flushed down the toilet.
So long sucker...
When Going Back to Bed is Not an Option
I am trying to find the motivation to get off the couch and into the shower knowing full well that the longer I wait to move is the faster I'll have to get ready once I've started.
I'm already fifteen minutes behind schedule and beyond the yawning that I just can't keep at bay, I really could care less that I'm about to be late for work.
I need coffee.
I really wish someone would bring me some.
I'm already fifteen minutes behind schedule and beyond the yawning that I just can't keep at bay, I really could care less that I'm about to be late for work.
I need coffee.
I really wish someone would bring me some.
Smarmaliciously Yours...
Some things are just too long. Take for instance the parent meeting I attended tonight. Pretty much everything that needed to be said could have been summed up in twenty minutes. And I really do mean twenty minutes. Not an hour. Not an hour and a half. Twenty minutes from start to finish complete with starting up my car and driving home.
Why on earth some parents have to make things both overly complicated and difficult is beyond me. Tell me what I need to fund raise, where I need to be and when and I'm pretty much a happy girl. Read me your proposal line by line by stinking line when the damn thing is three pages long and prepare yourself for more doodles than I can draw and an occasional yawn that I won't even bother to stifle.
I just don't have it in me.
And to be honest I don't think any of you do either. I think it's more of a contest to see what parent can be more involved than another. Just for the record, I happily bow out of that little rat race and award you all the honorary title of kiss ass. Granted I'll volunteer when I'm able and I'll attend as many of the shows as I can but let's get this clear right in the here and now... I have a life. And I have a job. And if there's not a paycheck coming in from your bank account to mine than chances are I'm not going to devote every ounce of my energy to help move all sorts of things along just for the glory and a little applause at the next parental meeting.
So really if I sit by myself at a table it's because I want to and not because you won't let me into your little click. Besides when all is said is done, I'm far younger than all of you and my kid is cuter...
Why on earth some parents have to make things both overly complicated and difficult is beyond me. Tell me what I need to fund raise, where I need to be and when and I'm pretty much a happy girl. Read me your proposal line by line by stinking line when the damn thing is three pages long and prepare yourself for more doodles than I can draw and an occasional yawn that I won't even bother to stifle.
I just don't have it in me.
And to be honest I don't think any of you do either. I think it's more of a contest to see what parent can be more involved than another. Just for the record, I happily bow out of that little rat race and award you all the honorary title of kiss ass. Granted I'll volunteer when I'm able and I'll attend as many of the shows as I can but let's get this clear right in the here and now... I have a life. And I have a job. And if there's not a paycheck coming in from your bank account to mine than chances are I'm not going to devote every ounce of my energy to help move all sorts of things along just for the glory and a little applause at the next parental meeting.
So really if I sit by myself at a table it's because I want to and not because you won't let me into your little click. Besides when all is said is done, I'm far younger than all of you and my kid is cuter...
The Sketchbook Project
KC and I signed up today for the 2011 Sketchbook Project.
And while my daughter is the visual artist of the family, I'd like to think I'll be able to dabble my way through with some well chosen words and some horribly awesome doodles.
Taking my Mom's advice, I've decided to base my project on the theme of "If you lived here..." Believe me when I tell you that I've plenty of fodder to fill my little book.
So check it out and join in.
The world is your stage.
And while my daughter is the visual artist of the family, I'd like to think I'll be able to dabble my way through with some well chosen words and some horribly awesome doodles.
Taking my Mom's advice, I've decided to base my project on the theme of "If you lived here..." Believe me when I tell you that I've plenty of fodder to fill my little book.
So check it out and join in.
The world is your stage.
Laundry Notes
5:42 A.M.
Presently listening to the washer spin round and round while trying to think of creative and yet plausible excuses to not go to work today. Nothing however sounds believable save for the truth and telling your boss that you simply don't feel like coming into work doesn't exactly fly too well...
And while I know I should be thankful in this present economy to have a job - and a job that pays marginally well and allows me to flirt with a vast majority of the male population on a daily basis - I can't help but wonder if there are people out there who get up most mornings to say, "I really love my job." Because I don't... Really love my job that is. I fly far closer to the loathing it but damn glad I have it category.
In other news, I have decided that four IG's in one house is about two too many... I babysat Dad's dogs Saturday while he was out and about town with his date - aka my next door neighbor - and honestly, I should have thought that one through just a tad bit more considering how well they've hit it off as I now live in fear that someday soon Dad is going to be much closer than twenty minutes away and I've no one to blame save KC and myself for putting that idea on the table in the first place...
Anyhoo needless to say four greyhounds barking and running and leaping and snuggling, though the snuggling part was cute until it caused me a few hours of lost sleep as I tossed, turned and tried to get some small space of my bed to call my own proved to remind me that small house and small dogs while normally a good mix does have its limits. I'm actually relieved to know I can check animal hoarder off of my list of things to become in my old age. Bonus!
Presently listening to the washer spin round and round while trying to think of creative and yet plausible excuses to not go to work today. Nothing however sounds believable save for the truth and telling your boss that you simply don't feel like coming into work doesn't exactly fly too well...
And while I know I should be thankful in this present economy to have a job - and a job that pays marginally well and allows me to flirt with a vast majority of the male population on a daily basis - I can't help but wonder if there are people out there who get up most mornings to say, "I really love my job." Because I don't... Really love my job that is. I fly far closer to the loathing it but damn glad I have it category.
In other news, I have decided that four IG's in one house is about two too many... I babysat Dad's dogs Saturday while he was out and about town with his date - aka my next door neighbor - and honestly, I should have thought that one through just a tad bit more considering how well they've hit it off as I now live in fear that someday soon Dad is going to be much closer than twenty minutes away and I've no one to blame save KC and myself for putting that idea on the table in the first place...
Anyhoo needless to say four greyhounds barking and running and leaping and snuggling, though the snuggling part was cute until it caused me a few hours of lost sleep as I tossed, turned and tried to get some small space of my bed to call my own proved to remind me that small house and small dogs while normally a good mix does have its limits. I'm actually relieved to know I can check animal hoarder off of my list of things to become in my old age. Bonus!
Finder's Keeper's
Believe it or not, I found this today in a parking lot of an old stone quarry with a sign in front of it that said free. Perhaps not everyone can see the beauty of a broken sculpture but there was little doubt in my mind that this would be perfect for my garden.
Sometimes the best things in life really are free...
Baby Squirrels Evidently Look Like Baby Gargoyles
Found this little guy fast asleep in my garden earlier today... At first KC and I were a tad bit worried that his Momma had forgotten all about him but after a little while she came back to take him home... My guess is she must have been out foraging and decided to leave him in a delightful (if not exactly safe) spot.
Always With the Headaches
I am the only one on the planet that I know of who in the midst of having yet another terrible headache can say to herself, "Maybe now would be a good time to hammer a nail into this wall and hang this picture." Or as the case may be to write about thinking about thinking of doing something about a picture that has spent the past few months leaning up against the wall in my bedroom while a blasted migraine throbs at my temples when really what I should be doing is lying down with my eyes closed and a pillow squashed over my head demanding everyone - from the TV, to the dogs, to my child to be quiet!
And if I knew where my hammer was - and at the moment I am guessing that it is somewhere downstairs - I most likely would be impromptu picture hanging at 6:30 on a Saturday - I have no dates and no life - night.
Thankfully I can blame my child for having no life. She is after all the best excuse I've come up with in 15 years to stay safe at home while the rest of the world is busy doing new things and seeking some form of adventure that I'd rather not try out. One could say that I am old before my time and they are most likely right. Although from time to time - possibly blamed on a full moon or simply my true self escaping from me being me - there have been moments when not so shy but overly cautious me smells temptation on the wind and decides to follow.
Tonight however is not one of those nights.
Tonight is take Advil night, curl up on the couch, read a book lent from the library earlier today and hope that maybe for tomorrow there might be a little bit something more.
And if I knew where my hammer was - and at the moment I am guessing that it is somewhere downstairs - I most likely would be impromptu picture hanging at 6:30 on a Saturday - I have no dates and no life - night.
Thankfully I can blame my child for having no life. She is after all the best excuse I've come up with in 15 years to stay safe at home while the rest of the world is busy doing new things and seeking some form of adventure that I'd rather not try out. One could say that I am old before my time and they are most likely right. Although from time to time - possibly blamed on a full moon or simply my true self escaping from me being me - there have been moments when not so shy but overly cautious me smells temptation on the wind and decides to follow.
Tonight however is not one of those nights.
Tonight is take Advil night, curl up on the couch, read a book lent from the library earlier today and hope that maybe for tomorrow there might be a little bit something more.
Rescue Me
In the copy room at work there is a list of names under the heading of first aid responders... I can't help but smirk every time I walk by because to be quite honest, there's not a single name on there that I'd want to be locking lips with should the situation ever call for it. In fact, the phrase just let me die is pretty much the only one that goes through my mind. So I've made my own list. A list of those I will allow to resuscitate me - CPR training or not. Unfortunately management has put the kibosh on my posting it any place where anyone can see. Evidently there are those who lack the creativity and sense of humor to find it or me amusing...
Foggy Days
Snorting is a sign of intelligence. At least that is what my Grandmother always said. Then again she always snorted when she laughed so she may have made that up...
I was thinking about her today and wishing that I could talk to her like we used to talk when I would drive up to the Falls for a visit. Talking to her now is just not the same. Sometimes I listen to my Mother at the other end of the phone explaining to my Grandma how to hold the phone and which end to talk into. But it's not like she knows me. I like to think that maybe there may be just a moment when she remembers but I think I do that more for myself than for anyone else.
I was trying to explain Alzheimer's to KC earlier. It's like a thief I said. A giant eraser. It makes everything about you disappear. It wipes you clean, so clean you cannot even recognize yourself or remember all the things that make up who you are.
I can't imagine how it must make my Mom feel to see her own Mother day in and day out. There are good days and bad days she tells me. And I know if it makes me feel so damn helpless here a couple hundred miles away, she has to feel it triple fold. Sometimes the person you want most to talk to is the person right beside you already light years away...
I was thinking about her today and wishing that I could talk to her like we used to talk when I would drive up to the Falls for a visit. Talking to her now is just not the same. Sometimes I listen to my Mother at the other end of the phone explaining to my Grandma how to hold the phone and which end to talk into. But it's not like she knows me. I like to think that maybe there may be just a moment when she remembers but I think I do that more for myself than for anyone else.
I was trying to explain Alzheimer's to KC earlier. It's like a thief I said. A giant eraser. It makes everything about you disappear. It wipes you clean, so clean you cannot even recognize yourself or remember all the things that make up who you are.
I can't imagine how it must make my Mom feel to see her own Mother day in and day out. There are good days and bad days she tells me. And I know if it makes me feel so damn helpless here a couple hundred miles away, she has to feel it triple fold. Sometimes the person you want most to talk to is the person right beside you already light years away...
More Rainy Day Woes
I like the rain. I can't help it. There's something about the sound of rain against the window that comforts me. Maybe it just reminds me of rainy days at camp. Precious moments of wrapping ourselves around a coffee table and playing cards, the smell of fresh coffee percolating on the stove, the sound of laughter that made light the game of war.
We listened to James Taylor on the radio player and burned wood to keep us warm when the nights turned cold on the mountain. We told stories, toasted marshmallows and traded secrets in exchange for a few more minutes of conversation before sleep found us zipped up tight in our sleeping bags praying that the camp mice might decide to stay outside.
I miss those days... I miss that life. It would be nice not to worry so much. To take each moment as it comes. To still believe that there's something better to be found in the dawn of morning's light. To believe that there's still time to take our time...
We listened to James Taylor on the radio player and burned wood to keep us warm when the nights turned cold on the mountain. We told stories, toasted marshmallows and traded secrets in exchange for a few more minutes of conversation before sleep found us zipped up tight in our sleeping bags praying that the camp mice might decide to stay outside.
I miss those days... I miss that life. It would be nice not to worry so much. To take each moment as it comes. To still believe that there's something better to be found in the dawn of morning's light. To believe that there's still time to take our time...
Singing the Storm
My spirit is being tested in the way a storm challenges all that grows, against the rain and the river it becomes, against the wind and the damage that blows through. Thunder is nothing save for noise. A rumble that races across a sky and bellows its atomic blast for all to hear. It demands your attention like a child in a fit, like a dog on a leash that's learned to snarl. Hear me, it says. But lightning has no need to listen and little tolerance for such school girl games. She answers him in silence, precise in her own exacting way. Truth will not be ignored. Greed will not go unpunished. But life will go on...
My Cottage Garden In the Making
My latest excuse for not writing... My yard.
More commanly referred to as Stacey's cottage garden endeavor. And I'm doing it all alone. No fancy tools save my shovel, my rake and my own two hands to pull leaves, move rocks, mulch beds, and convince the plants I've purchased to do nothing but grow, grow, grow...
Every morning I wake up to this view and to the sound of a small rushing creek bed that sits down the bank and out of site at the back of my yard. And it makes me happy. Every new plant, every new bud, every new day when I add something new or build a bed out a little bigger than it was before.
I see in my head the beautiful place this will someday be...
New Template Design Choices
Dear Blogger,
Fantastic new templates after I don't know how many years of needing someone with the know how to update them. Huzzah!
Now if you could just figure out how to make my logo just a wee bit smaller life would indeed be perfect.
Love,
Me
Fantastic new templates after I don't know how many years of needing someone with the know how to update them. Huzzah!
Now if you could just figure out how to make my logo just a wee bit smaller life would indeed be perfect.
Love,
Me
Tiny Little Flashes of Something That Might Pass As Brilliance Eventually
I was thinking last night as I was attempting to shut my mind off and go to bed that I don't do random. Random is not in my nature and while my life sometimes can become a little chaotic, that chaos is always controllable.
I'm far from being an everything has a place and should be in it's place kind of girl but I am structured. I rarely deviate from my norm and when I do it's usually a tell tale sign that something somewhere has gone beyond the level of what I can handle well or I'm trying my best to please someone other than myself.
Sometimes you have to hear yourself say something aloud before you understand it's significance. For me it came when I was typing a reply to a friend who asked a question regarding friendship and the disillusionment that can sometimes come with it. Along with the answers I provided her with I wrote this,
"Some people have opinions... I have beliefs. And let's face it, beliefs trump opinions any day."
I had to sit back for a second when I read again what I had wrote. Not that I was surprised mind you - I've always been blessed to rarely ever be at a loss for words at any given time or place. Still hearing myself say it really sunk it in.
When you're young you tend to believe that you have to fight to be who you are. Now that I'm thirty-five I've come to learn that the lesson is just to always be exactly who you are.
My beliefs are non-negotiable. They do not change.
I'm far from being an everything has a place and should be in it's place kind of girl but I am structured. I rarely deviate from my norm and when I do it's usually a tell tale sign that something somewhere has gone beyond the level of what I can handle well or I'm trying my best to please someone other than myself.
Sometimes you have to hear yourself say something aloud before you understand it's significance. For me it came when I was typing a reply to a friend who asked a question regarding friendship and the disillusionment that can sometimes come with it. Along with the answers I provided her with I wrote this,
"Some people have opinions... I have beliefs. And let's face it, beliefs trump opinions any day."
I had to sit back for a second when I read again what I had wrote. Not that I was surprised mind you - I've always been blessed to rarely ever be at a loss for words at any given time or place. Still hearing myself say it really sunk it in.
When you're young you tend to believe that you have to fight to be who you are. Now that I'm thirty-five I've come to learn that the lesson is just to always be exactly who you are.
My beliefs are non-negotiable. They do not change.
Gardenscapes
When I first moved into my house last October my backyard was a mess of overgrown this, out of control that, and a whole lot of weeds. Since then I've planned, plotted, dug, buried, mulched and mowed my way to something much better than before.
This also provides me with a stellar excuse as to why this blog is boring. Perhaps you could say that up until now, I've kept my green gardening thumb from ruling the roost on what I write. But tonight I just can't help myself and after spending my entire three day weekend working my tail off, I only felt it fair to post the fruits of my labor. Of course there is still much more to do and this is only one half of a yard that is completely underway but for now it's one heck of a start...
Blasted!
Everything is annoying me. From stupid people to my stupid computer to being so tired I'm stupidly still awake when I should just put this whole day behind me and go to bed. And yet here I am... Complaining. Loudly. To no one in particular. Because I can.
And now... I have no energy to continue.
And now... I have no energy to continue.
Insomnia and Arachnids
I'm not sleeping and I know this is something I'm going to regret come morning when my alarm goes off and I'm too exhausted to even think about getting out of bed. I've been staring at the wall for hours. Mostly due to a spider that's been hanging out there and refusing to come down into what I call the kill zone - more commonly known as anything I can reach without having to resort to standing on chairs or turning the house upside down to find my step stool. I wish I had a flyswatter.
Still if I want to go to sleep anytime soon something is going to have to be done about the arachnid. I wonder if he knows he's wasting the last few minutes of his life doing nothing other than taunting me from his post upon the wall. And I should feel bad that I'm about to put an end to his time here on earth and for a moment I consider simply transplanting him from one place to another. An inside to out sort of act of kindness. And then I remember that I don't like spiders and we're back to planning on how to whack him without the issue of remorse getting in the way.
Still if I want to go to sleep anytime soon something is going to have to be done about the arachnid. I wonder if he knows he's wasting the last few minutes of his life doing nothing other than taunting me from his post upon the wall. And I should feel bad that I'm about to put an end to his time here on earth and for a moment I consider simply transplanting him from one place to another. An inside to out sort of act of kindness. And then I remember that I don't like spiders and we're back to planning on how to whack him without the issue of remorse getting in the way.
Dormant Love
Maybe the truth is you don't ever fall out of love with the person you first fell in love with. Maybe the truth is as simple as saying you can't. You can't help but love because in this one instance with this one person there is absolutely no opposite feeling to alternate to. Love is the only feeling that stays. Disappointments are forgotten. Maybe conveniently.
Frustration
The main reason I've stopped writing is because people worry too much. You can't have a bad day on a blog without someone thinking, "Oh no... This could be a cry for help." And while I do admit to crying and being stressed out over the small stuff more often than not as of late, there should be absolutely no worries of me offing myself anytime soon. Mostly because (a) that's not the kind of person that I am or ever will be and (b) there isn't a man alive worth that sort of cost. So please, when I write something that maybe sets your censors to buzzing and maybe even has you grinding your teeth remember that what you're reading is not necessarily about entertaining you dear reader. Sometimes it's merely my own form of talk therapy because unfortunately in this recession that no one wants to admit we're still in, I just can't afford to do anything more than write down my thoughts and hope that by doing so I'm helping myself in my own unique way.
It really is quite simple... Writing makes me feel better. But if I've nowhere to write where I feel I can be myself without any censors than my only option is not to write at all.
I love you Mom... Stop worrying. When I really need someone to listen to what I've got to say, you're always my first phone call.
It really is quite simple... Writing makes me feel better. But if I've nowhere to write where I feel I can be myself without any censors than my only option is not to write at all.
I love you Mom... Stop worrying. When I really need someone to listen to what I've got to say, you're always my first phone call.
Putting the Damage On
It's easier to think of things not to say. Not to write. And I think I miss being anonymous. Conspicuously invisible. I stop writing. Instead I keep a pocket journal and jot down thoughts. Sometimes just a word or sometimes some small phrase. Sometimes something more to get it out of my head. In these small bursts of speed, the things I write are for myself and there is no thought of sharing. No censor to fall across my lips or cross a page. And it feels wrong to write where it can't be read and yet it seems I can't write anymore where the world can see.
It's hard to stay honest. With yourself. With your family. With your friends. With a world you just don't know. You worry your words might start an avalanche or make it seem that someone has got to ask you questions about yourself.
All you want is peace. To let certain things go so you can walk away feeling like you've dropped some small burden from your back. All you want is closure. The feeling that something is done and you can let it go. And then you realize that you've never learned how to shut a door. These things that affected you years ago have yet to lose their power.
You try to stop feeling. To pretend you've stopped feeling. You think sometimes you have truly stopped feeling. Slapping your own hand across your mouth to shush the words, quieting the need inside you that constantly seeks the good in people, quieting the cry inside you when they reveal themselves to be at their worst. And it doesn't matter what you say because the people who need to hear are the same people who never listen. They can't get past listening to themselves...
You write their names upon a wall and list your grievances and are not surprised to find that the longest list you write is the one you write about yourself. Because in your heart you do not forgive. Somewhere in a place that cannot be touched there is an anger that burns as hot as molten lava in your core. It is the steel that carries up your spine and steals your breath when you've been hurt. It is the fire that dries your tears and quiets your sobs, leaving you vulnerable only for a moment before it hardens you even more than you'd been before. There is no forgiveness, there is only self-preservation in its place.
Damaged is a word you've secretly used to describe yourself. This hard line across your face and you try to remember how you were as a child... Because you want to take her back and adopt her in to steal back the sunshine in her eyes. You don't know any other way to take it back. There is no magic potion you can drink and you know you've never liked the taste of beer. There is no healing touch to make you whole when every touch just seems to tear you farther apart. There is no finding a new way when every path you choose to walk takes you down the exact same road. And you write about wanting change but are so damn scared of finding it you don't know if you'll ever have the courage to start and stay the course.
All you know is just how tired you really are for having to fight for absolutely everything that you have. And how emotionally exhausted you are of not fighting for everything you've lost.
And that is why when you wake in the middle of the night with far too many thoughts in your head it's never easy to get back to sleep...
It's hard to stay honest. With yourself. With your family. With your friends. With a world you just don't know. You worry your words might start an avalanche or make it seem that someone has got to ask you questions about yourself.
All you want is peace. To let certain things go so you can walk away feeling like you've dropped some small burden from your back. All you want is closure. The feeling that something is done and you can let it go. And then you realize that you've never learned how to shut a door. These things that affected you years ago have yet to lose their power.
You try to stop feeling. To pretend you've stopped feeling. You think sometimes you have truly stopped feeling. Slapping your own hand across your mouth to shush the words, quieting the need inside you that constantly seeks the good in people, quieting the cry inside you when they reveal themselves to be at their worst. And it doesn't matter what you say because the people who need to hear are the same people who never listen. They can't get past listening to themselves...
You write their names upon a wall and list your grievances and are not surprised to find that the longest list you write is the one you write about yourself. Because in your heart you do not forgive. Somewhere in a place that cannot be touched there is an anger that burns as hot as molten lava in your core. It is the steel that carries up your spine and steals your breath when you've been hurt. It is the fire that dries your tears and quiets your sobs, leaving you vulnerable only for a moment before it hardens you even more than you'd been before. There is no forgiveness, there is only self-preservation in its place.
Damaged is a word you've secretly used to describe yourself. This hard line across your face and you try to remember how you were as a child... Because you want to take her back and adopt her in to steal back the sunshine in her eyes. You don't know any other way to take it back. There is no magic potion you can drink and you know you've never liked the taste of beer. There is no healing touch to make you whole when every touch just seems to tear you farther apart. There is no finding a new way when every path you choose to walk takes you down the exact same road. And you write about wanting change but are so damn scared of finding it you don't know if you'll ever have the courage to start and stay the course.
All you know is just how tired you really are for having to fight for absolutely everything that you have. And how emotionally exhausted you are of not fighting for everything you've lost.
And that is why when you wake in the middle of the night with far too many thoughts in your head it's never easy to get back to sleep...
Impending Nuptials
So Dad is getting married... Again.
And I'm happy for him. I couldn't be anything other than happy for him. And we want him happy. Of course we want him happy. A miserable Dad is not a fun Dad to be around and Dad has had his share of misery for too long.
When he lost my stepmother two years ago he was devastated. He was lost. And we - his daughters - became his life raft to help him through what was the worst of times. And those times, I'm sure they were probably much harder for him than he ever let any of us know...
My father loved his wife. I have no doubt that had cancer not made the choice for him he would have been married to her forever. But life and the loss of it oftentimes doesn't give us a say in how our forevers play out.
My sisters too have had a tough time. Are still having a tough time. There is no getting over a loss of a Mother. You simply can't. I'm sure they wake up everyday and miss her more than the day before. Time doesn't heal as much as it reminds you of what you've lost and what you'll never have back again. And yet the world doesn't stop when you lose someone you love. It moves forward with you in it, and you learn how to deal with your sorrow, even if you never really learn how to stop wishing to somehow hear their voice again, or feel their arms encase you in a hug.
So Dad's news is difficult for them. Of course it is. But in their hearts I know that they want only what makes Dad happy. And so they'll step back and take a moment. They'll cry because it's what they'll need to do. But they'll be happy because they'll know Dad is too sweet a guy to not have someone to love.
And I'm happy for him. I couldn't be anything other than happy for him. And we want him happy. Of course we want him happy. A miserable Dad is not a fun Dad to be around and Dad has had his share of misery for too long.
When he lost my stepmother two years ago he was devastated. He was lost. And we - his daughters - became his life raft to help him through what was the worst of times. And those times, I'm sure they were probably much harder for him than he ever let any of us know...
My father loved his wife. I have no doubt that had cancer not made the choice for him he would have been married to her forever. But life and the loss of it oftentimes doesn't give us a say in how our forevers play out.
My sisters too have had a tough time. Are still having a tough time. There is no getting over a loss of a Mother. You simply can't. I'm sure they wake up everyday and miss her more than the day before. Time doesn't heal as much as it reminds you of what you've lost and what you'll never have back again. And yet the world doesn't stop when you lose someone you love. It moves forward with you in it, and you learn how to deal with your sorrow, even if you never really learn how to stop wishing to somehow hear their voice again, or feel their arms encase you in a hug.
So Dad's news is difficult for them. Of course it is. But in their hearts I know that they want only what makes Dad happy. And so they'll step back and take a moment. They'll cry because it's what they'll need to do. But they'll be happy because they'll know Dad is too sweet a guy to not have someone to love.
Washed Ashore
Sick again. Sitting here trying to type while ignoring what seems to be a need to throw up. And I'm difficult. Refusing to schedule a visit to the doctor because I keep thinking it's going to go away. And yet, for the last two weeks it's been constant, leaving me fine for a few hours and then hitting me hard for all the rest. At first I thought that I had caught the stomach bug like everyone else in my office had but now I'm beginning to wonder if there isn't something more severe I should be worrying about.
Perhaps this is just a manifestation of my stress. And I am stressed. Clinically stressed. Stressed beyond any reasonable limit. Stressed beyond my abilities to handle it well. But I've handled stress before and I don't recall wanting to vomit every three seconds. And wanting to puke is stressing me out because there's nothing worse than feeling sick all of the time.
And I'm tired… Did I mention I'm tired? I'm so tired that I can't sleep and had it not been for Tylenol PM these past two nights, I doubt I would have slept a wink.
What to do… What to do?
Maybe I should stop stamping my feet like a child and call the doctor.
Then again it's hard for me to part with my cash… I have so little of it these days.
I need to make a decision.
But for now, I'll take to my bed, stare at my ceiling and think on it until I fall asleep.
Something Is Better Than Nothing
I can't say that I haven't been writing because I have. I simply haven't been writing here. My apologies on that and maybe even a half hearted promise that I will change my antisocial journal writing soon...
For now I am simply content to sit here drinking my tea and mulling over lesser stress causing thoughts. Not that every thought I've had around here lately hasn't been stressful but more so because I'm done being stressed out about every little thing. Life happens and there comes a time when you simply must buckle down and handle it without pitching a fit or posting a poor me post. Not that those don't at times have their place but honestly I get just as tired of reading them as I get tired of writing them.
So I'm enjoying my tea, watching a little NCIS repeat bullshit and then taking myself off to bed.
Tomorrow is another day and sooner or later I will be back.
For now I am simply content to sit here drinking my tea and mulling over lesser stress causing thoughts. Not that every thought I've had around here lately hasn't been stressful but more so because I'm done being stressed out about every little thing. Life happens and there comes a time when you simply must buckle down and handle it without pitching a fit or posting a poor me post. Not that those don't at times have their place but honestly I get just as tired of reading them as I get tired of writing them.
So I'm enjoying my tea, watching a little NCIS repeat bullshit and then taking myself off to bed.
Tomorrow is another day and sooner or later I will be back.
Barren
She wraps her arms around herself when supply cannot meet the demand for comfort and holds herself in.
Buckets deep, my little red shovel and matching pail,
Bailing.
Leaving a bread crumb trail.
How I've been so easily
Lured.
Once again the scene of the crime.
The big bad wolves ask for me by name.
Take
Take
Taking their share.
Slicing and shredding.
Taking and getting.
Forgetting my name.
A Bout of the Swine
When you're sick, the last thing you want to hear is a co-worker of one of your exes share with you, "You must have been hanging around *name omitted to protect the guilty*. He's been sick too, they think his girlfriend has the swine flu and he's been told to stay home until he's over it."
Of course the guy telling you has absolutely no clue that you and swine flu's boyfriend ever had a thing going so he doesn't realize that the dagger he just brandished and placed in your heart didn't make you feel (a) better (b) sympathetic to swine girl's plight or (c) thankful for the reminder that jackass has moved on while you're still wondering how it is that the guy who seemed the most right for you is obviously still Mr. Wrong.
You murmur some sort of comment in reply not even knowing what you're saying and then you pause. Convenient, you think. Deer season just opened and the boy you know best who likes to hide out in tree stands and stake out Bambi is suddenly down with an illness that could keep him out of work and out of the woods for an extended period of time.
Plausible? Yes.
Possible? Absolutely.
Bloody likely? Not a chance.
Honestly though I am over him. For the most part anyway. It's just that when he calls, and yes, he still occasionally calls, it's like an instant connection to my heart when he says, "Hi," and I can't help myself but to say "Hi," right back.
I'm going to have to work on this. Moving forward is hard enough to do when you keep opening doors to the past and one cannot waste time on things that if they were going to be would have already been. So I'll chalk this one down to useless information. However if swine flu is in season, I cannot help but to say I hope she's got it.
Just Before Bed
The fact that I've managed to drive past my own driveway at least four times that I can remember counting since KC and I moved in should not be held against me. In fact, it shouldn't even be mentioned because for the most part the only real reason I missed it was because I was too distracted noticing everything else. One night it was garbage cans, the next it was a parked car, and goodness only knows what reasons I had for the third and fourth.
My new neighborhood is cozy. One by one my neighbors have come over to introduce themselves. Some to be nosey to be sure and some just to say hello and offer a welcome to the neighborhood. Unfortunately none of them have come over with cookies or a casserole dish filled with something yummy. Evidently my new neighbors are not the welcome to the neighborhood here is some food kind. Sad really since up until today, I've spent the past three weeks learning how to be Julia Child's with a microwave as the gas line to my new stove wasn't hooked up. And after three weeks of being microwave dependent, nothing could have been better than coming home tonight and making my very first hot from the stove meal in my new home.
As for naming my house, I still haven't come up with a name. Maybe once everything is put away, and the walls are painted something other than the stark white they're painted now, maybe then a name will come. Like most things, I've just got to practice patience and wait for the name to come to me. After all my grandmother had her West Wing, my mother has her Culver's Cove, and who am I to break the chain?
My new neighborhood is cozy. One by one my neighbors have come over to introduce themselves. Some to be nosey to be sure and some just to say hello and offer a welcome to the neighborhood. Unfortunately none of them have come over with cookies or a casserole dish filled with something yummy. Evidently my new neighbors are not the welcome to the neighborhood here is some food kind. Sad really since up until today, I've spent the past three weeks learning how to be Julia Child's with a microwave as the gas line to my new stove wasn't hooked up. And after three weeks of being microwave dependent, nothing could have been better than coming home tonight and making my very first hot from the stove meal in my new home.
As for naming my house, I still haven't come up with a name. Maybe once everything is put away, and the walls are painted something other than the stark white they're painted now, maybe then a name will come. Like most things, I've just got to practice patience and wait for the name to come to me. After all my grandmother had her West Wing, my mother has her Culver's Cove, and who am I to break the chain?
Fall
One by one they fall. Sailing. Gliding. Reaching for the ground as some would still reach for the sky landing softly, the still green of the grass a backdrop to their beauty. And a story I once read as a child comes to life before me...
Freddie the leaf, so scared of falling from his precarious perch in the tree that he held on long after his time to fall had come and gone, scared of letting go and what it would mean. It is a beautiful story celebrating the wonderment of life and the eventuality of death and it did so in a way that even now years and years later, I recall his story and smile as I watch each Freddie after Freddie and Freddie gracefully descend from the limbs that were their summer homes.
Settling In
Surrounded by boxes one would think that I would feel a bit more motivation than I do to unpack them. Three months however of constant stress, both waiting on the house to close and waiting on the hours at my job to return to normal have made this anything but a productive day. For the first time in weeks, I am sitting down without a thought, without a care, and without any desire at all but to enjoy doing only what I choose to do and only when I choose to do it. And at the moment, I am all about doing nothing.
I shouldn't say nothing however. I did after all drag the old carpet out to the curb, a microwave I've had since before the beginning of time and more or less scraped up any other junk I could come up with to take advantage of free take your crap to the curb today for pickup tomorrow morning. Let it not be said that I would ever allow the opportunity to unload go by without searching high and low for the ever elusive throw out now or silently keep your items in storage for another goodness knows how many months peace go by.
Sadly I did not make as much of a dent in the pile as I would have preferred, but at least the rug - the rug that I had loved and dragged up two flights of stairs and had up until Kate flooded the living room of the apartment one month before our move still been in livable conditions - is gone. No amount of steam cleaning could clear the scent of mildew once mildew had sent in and with a summer like ours filled with nothing but black clouds and rain, drying out was not an option no matter how many fans I set about the room to try to set things right.
I am however about to return to my state of nothingness. My couch misses me and as a newly made homeowner in charge of the thermostat, it's time to go wrap myself in a blanket and prepare to freeze.
I shouldn't say nothing however. I did after all drag the old carpet out to the curb, a microwave I've had since before the beginning of time and more or less scraped up any other junk I could come up with to take advantage of free take your crap to the curb today for pickup tomorrow morning. Let it not be said that I would ever allow the opportunity to unload go by without searching high and low for the ever elusive throw out now or silently keep your items in storage for another goodness knows how many months peace go by.
Sadly I did not make as much of a dent in the pile as I would have preferred, but at least the rug - the rug that I had loved and dragged up two flights of stairs and had up until Kate flooded the living room of the apartment one month before our move still been in livable conditions - is gone. No amount of steam cleaning could clear the scent of mildew once mildew had sent in and with a summer like ours filled with nothing but black clouds and rain, drying out was not an option no matter how many fans I set about the room to try to set things right.
I am however about to return to my state of nothingness. My couch misses me and as a newly made homeowner in charge of the thermostat, it's time to go wrap myself in a blanket and prepare to freeze.
This Would Be Easier in Third Person
I thought it was something that I wanted. Something that I was due for a long time spent waiting. Weeks later I know far more than I ever thought I'd want to know about myself and the way my heart works. Or in this case, doesn't work. And it turns out that it had nothing at all to do with him and everything in fact to do with me.
The truth is I spend an awful lot of time hiding. Not saying what I'd really like to say, not being the person I really want to be, and doing all the things I know are only going to come back around to bite me in the ass before I can bat an eyelash or two.
When it comes to men, I'm a natural disaster. And I keep thinking that maybe eventually something will change despite the fact that I keep running myself around the same circles and ending up with the same old worn out results. For a smart woman, I am optimistically dumb. I say that and smile. Somehow being naive in this fashion makes me entertaining to myself...
But not everything is a made for TV movie funny. Interaction between two people can destroy you. Rip you to ribbons. Tear you from the inside out and leave you weak, praying for mercy and finding none.
You have to remind yourself that no one can make you feel less unless you let them. No one can make you feel nameless or faceless unless you give them the ability to make you invisible. And I am not a second hand replacement. A means to an end. A night or two of peace and sanctuary.
So I made two mistakes. One right on top of the other and both with very identical results. One that was more of an I waited this long and by George I'm going to try it out to see if it was worth the wait and one on a whim because for just a moment I wasn't thinking very clearly at all. Neither brought me any closer to having happy as a result.
These life lessons are hard to learn. Because to pick apart the bones, I had to tear the seams to show myself just how far I'd unraveled. I'm nowhere close to being who I'm meant to be. I get sidetracked far too easily. I make mistakes more often than not. And my best of intentions can be forgotten on the fly. But I'm awake and trying and considering how long I've been asleep, things can only get better from here.
The truth is I spend an awful lot of time hiding. Not saying what I'd really like to say, not being the person I really want to be, and doing all the things I know are only going to come back around to bite me in the ass before I can bat an eyelash or two.
When it comes to men, I'm a natural disaster. And I keep thinking that maybe eventually something will change despite the fact that I keep running myself around the same circles and ending up with the same old worn out results. For a smart woman, I am optimistically dumb. I say that and smile. Somehow being naive in this fashion makes me entertaining to myself...
But not everything is a made for TV movie funny. Interaction between two people can destroy you. Rip you to ribbons. Tear you from the inside out and leave you weak, praying for mercy and finding none.
You have to remind yourself that no one can make you feel less unless you let them. No one can make you feel nameless or faceless unless you give them the ability to make you invisible. And I am not a second hand replacement. A means to an end. A night or two of peace and sanctuary.
So I made two mistakes. One right on top of the other and both with very identical results. One that was more of an I waited this long and by George I'm going to try it out to see if it was worth the wait and one on a whim because for just a moment I wasn't thinking very clearly at all. Neither brought me any closer to having happy as a result.
These life lessons are hard to learn. Because to pick apart the bones, I had to tear the seams to show myself just how far I'd unraveled. I'm nowhere close to being who I'm meant to be. I get sidetracked far too easily. I make mistakes more often than not. And my best of intentions can be forgotten on the fly. But I'm awake and trying and considering how long I've been asleep, things can only get better from here.
Hearth Fires
Houses have feelings. I believe that as much as I believe that calling a place home doesn't always make it feel like home. Places like people either accept you or reject you from the start, welcoming you in or making you feel uncomfortable enough to make you want to leave sooner rather than later.
I have lived, if sometimes you could call it living, in both of these places... Homes I've left that I've had no desire to leave and those I've ran from as if I couldn't flee fast enough from the hounds of hell. Uprooting time and time again searching for something a little more permanent, someplace to stay just a little bit longer, a home to call mine and mine alone.
I sit in my reading room typing away this morning in quiet while my daughter, the dogs and even the cats remain fast asleep. Around me there are empty boxes waiting to be packed, labeled and put by the door in their readiness to go. But I think to myself that it's not quite real yet, this leaving. And it just may be that I won't believe that some other house is going to be my home until I'm crossing its threshold with that first box of whatever magic it is inside that helps to make a house a home.
I dread the thought of taking my pictures down from their walls, rolling the carpets up to carry them down the stairs, and emptying each room until the only part left of me to leave behind is the color I chose to paint them. Golden yellow, coffee and cream, oatmeal with a cinnamon raisin accent wall, sage green for comfort and for KC bright hues of celeron greens and turquoise blues.
This apartment has been a blessing. From the moment I first saw it, I saw past all of the problems both big and small. To me it was like a fairy tale castle high above and away from the rest of the world, safe from the dragons below. I hid here until I learned how to live here and the living has been good.
I am not the woman I was when I landed here with broken wings and broken spirit. And I have learned to let go of the lesson that I was so cruelly and needlessly taught, forced to endure rather than live. The fear I used to feel, the tears I used to cry, the feeling of always needing to look over my shoulder to make sure that no one was there, all of that is gone...
A good home does that for you.
Rebuilding as it repairs.
Protecting as it provides.
I have lived, if sometimes you could call it living, in both of these places... Homes I've left that I've had no desire to leave and those I've ran from as if I couldn't flee fast enough from the hounds of hell. Uprooting time and time again searching for something a little more permanent, someplace to stay just a little bit longer, a home to call mine and mine alone.
I sit in my reading room typing away this morning in quiet while my daughter, the dogs and even the cats remain fast asleep. Around me there are empty boxes waiting to be packed, labeled and put by the door in their readiness to go. But I think to myself that it's not quite real yet, this leaving. And it just may be that I won't believe that some other house is going to be my home until I'm crossing its threshold with that first box of whatever magic it is inside that helps to make a house a home.
I dread the thought of taking my pictures down from their walls, rolling the carpets up to carry them down the stairs, and emptying each room until the only part left of me to leave behind is the color I chose to paint them. Golden yellow, coffee and cream, oatmeal with a cinnamon raisin accent wall, sage green for comfort and for KC bright hues of celeron greens and turquoise blues.
This apartment has been a blessing. From the moment I first saw it, I saw past all of the problems both big and small. To me it was like a fairy tale castle high above and away from the rest of the world, safe from the dragons below. I hid here until I learned how to live here and the living has been good.
I am not the woman I was when I landed here with broken wings and broken spirit. And I have learned to let go of the lesson that I was so cruelly and needlessly taught, forced to endure rather than live. The fear I used to feel, the tears I used to cry, the feeling of always needing to look over my shoulder to make sure that no one was there, all of that is gone...
A good home does that for you.
Rebuilding as it repairs.
Protecting as it provides.
Holding the Dream
It hasn't hit me yet. Or at least it doesn't seem quite real. At least not now. Not even with a few half packed boxes scattered through the rooms, half started, hanging open, waiting to be taped shut and labeled with a description of whatever it is inside.
It doesn't feel real at all. I've been waiting so, so long... I'd almost given up. Discouraged by what I wanted, where I needed it to be and what I believed was an impossible wish list of wants that wouldn't be answered.
And yet, miracles... A touch of faith and fate that led me one night to walk by a house that even before I knew it was for sale caused me to stop in my tracks and admire what I saw. Tucked away like a fairy tale cottage, quiet as if it were contemplating great things in the smallest of ways, looking every bit as if it were waiting for something wonderful to happen by. And there I stood, dreaming...
But a girl like me knows a lot of things, namely that dreams seldom become reality. They linger on your mind, tempt you with longing and slowly fade like morning mist rising from a lake.
And I still don't trust myself that it's all for real. I hold back the bulk of my excitement, wanting now the security of my signature across a page, and a firm final handshake that says the deal is done, made and impossible to break. Then and only then, when the keys are in my hand and I'm carrying that first box through the door for the very first time will I believe that this house is finally mine and that I've succeeded in doing what I haven't been able to do for so long...
For the first time ever, I'll be able to give my daughter a place that she can really call home.
Pipe Dreams?
Libraries make me cry. Or to be more specific, my library makes me cry. Or maybe, just maybe I was feeling a bit weepy today and just happened to be at the library when the tears threatened to start rolling down my face. Then again it seems that whenever I go to the library, which mind you this is me we're talking about so the word often does come into play, I always seem to be fighting to keep myself together.
I think it has something to do with walking down the aisles, searching for that ever elusive book and knowing that the one I'm searching for is the one I've been wanting to write and just haven't gotten around to yet. And every time this feeling comes over me, it reminds me of something that Toni Morrison once said, "If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it."
So what am I waiting for?
Freezing On the 4th
For a fourth of July it's freezing. And while I know it's cold, cold enough to throw a little heat around the room by burning a few flames in the fireplace, it still hasn't occurred to me to get up and close the windows. Instead a cool damp breeze blows in through the curtains while I sit wrapped up in my daughter's zerba blanket throw writing down these words and ignoring my cell phone as it rings.
Ignoring it because I know it's my Dad and I know he can only be calling for one thing, to let me know that he's going to the gym and that he expects to see me there. And I've got to admit, for the last month or so I've let myself off of the strict regimen I've been holding myself to for over the past year. Tired may be as tired does, but not going is not going to get me any further from where I am. So I suppose I should motivate and do something besides shiver.
Leave of Absence
Alligators are surrounding my bed and getting back to sleep now is not an option. Imaginary or not, they're there and I'm here safely out of harms way at least for another night. Evidently animal planet is not the way to go before bed though truth be told I turned it off during a show about cats so I'm not really sure how it is that alligators came into play... It must be my subconscious mind letting go of something too big for it to handle.
This is my few free minutes of downtime for today. Sooner rather than later, I am about to start pulling myself together to get things ready and organized for my trip to Iowa.
Iowa, you ask?
I could answer that I've joined some bizarre dating club hence my venture into foreign fields to go and find myself a corn fed boy, but the truth is, I'm going for work and at this point a corn fed boy doesn't appear to be on the menu.
That being said, I'm seriously done with boys wanting to be men and men acting like they're still little boys. In the past few weeks, I think I've heard everything that a woman can hear. And can I just say that no, I'm not buying into a word of it. Not a stinking one.
And since there's really nothing to stick my neck out for, at least not from my angle of viewing, it's time to simply walk away and chalk this one up to lack of common sense, years of wondering well maybe and a neediness in me to hold out for something that week after week after another same old really whatever happened to the word progression week stayed as stagnant as two people in the same room, sharing the same breath can be for months at a time with no resolution other than for me to decide now is the time to draw the line and say done.
So done.
The good news however is that I feel neither sadness nor remorse. My heart did not get broken this go round, although the friendship I once had with this man has suffered irrefutable harm. There is no going back from this to whatever we were before. Too many things have both been said and done to forget that when it mattered most, he proved that I didn't matter. He took all that he could take, gave nothing back in return, and turned the tables to say that it was all my fault when called out on his bad behavior. And that my friends, is no friend in my book. No friend in my life.
So maybe I'll cool my heels for a while - the field days from two weeks before notwithstanding. Funny that. I got more out of one night with --- (and who would have guessed that?) than I ever did these past eight months with Jake. A woman was due! But now this woman goes back to playing it straight and narrow, keeping her cards close to hand until something more comes passing by to say hello.
Garden 2009 Pictures
Early yet in the season but in a month from now this is going to look fantastic!
Life On the Run
I don't miss the days of being idle, but I do miss not having the time to simply take my time...
Today was over almost as soon as my feet hit the floor this morning. I was in the shower, dressed to go, putting the pups in their harnesses and out the door to take them for their walk before most people were even awake. And when I returned from my two mile trek around the block it was have something quick for breakfast, answer my phone to say yes I was ready to trade in my street clothes for gym clothes and off again to spend an hour at the gym.
From the gym to home to get KC to go to Panera's to have our Sunday ritual brunch, a cup of coffee and read the paper. To the store to pick up KC's finally fixed computer, to the mall to buy a few things the paper said was on sale. Home to throw laundry in the wash, laundry in the dryer and fold laundry to be put away. Back out the door to hit the garden center to spend another few hours making my garden look all nicey nice and then upstairs to make dinner, clean up from making yet another mess to now... Ready to call it a night and head off to bed.
It's no wonder I'm tired...
Today was over almost as soon as my feet hit the floor this morning. I was in the shower, dressed to go, putting the pups in their harnesses and out the door to take them for their walk before most people were even awake. And when I returned from my two mile trek around the block it was have something quick for breakfast, answer my phone to say yes I was ready to trade in my street clothes for gym clothes and off again to spend an hour at the gym.
From the gym to home to get KC to go to Panera's to have our Sunday ritual brunch, a cup of coffee and read the paper. To the store to pick up KC's finally fixed computer, to the mall to buy a few things the paper said was on sale. Home to throw laundry in the wash, laundry in the dryer and fold laundry to be put away. Back out the door to hit the garden center to spend another few hours making my garden look all nicey nice and then upstairs to make dinner, clean up from making yet another mess to now... Ready to call it a night and head off to bed.
It's no wonder I'm tired...
Up For Discussion
A night out with friends is just what a girl needs when everything around her seems to be crisscrossed with lines of confusion. And last night was the perfect way to end a long and endless week. Dinner with friends, glasses of wine all the way around, with stories to tell and inadvertently share with the man sitting at the table beside us.
I'm quite convinced that opportunity having presented itself he would have slid his chair over to hang onto every word in detail rather than the few he managed to eavesdrop on. Then again mention the word blow job in polite society and there's hardly a man in the world capable of resisting not wanting to know what it is you're going to say when your conversation is clearly so much better than his own.
I'm quite convinced that opportunity having presented itself he would have slid his chair over to hang onto every word in detail rather than the few he managed to eavesdrop on. Then again mention the word blow job in polite society and there's hardly a man in the world capable of resisting not wanting to know what it is you're going to say when your conversation is clearly so much better than his own.
Once
What did I do wrong?
The answer to that question could provide the answer to every question I've ever had. Every doubt, every insecurity, every give a mile to take an inch moment of my life could be wrapped up in in a matter of seconds with his explanation of why I wasn't good enough and why I haven't been worth the effort.
Families don't stop when you walk out the door regardless of who did the leaving or who was left behind. We were all collateral damage, broken with a need for mending. And I was just a kid, so crazy hurt by the whole affair that it was easier to push away than to hold on tight. I have the stupidity of my own youth to use as an excuse. I wonder though, what his excuse is? Or if he even has one. And does he miss me as much as I sometimes miss him? Or has he simply chosen to forget that once I was his daughter too?
The answer to that question could provide the answer to every question I've ever had. Every doubt, every insecurity, every give a mile to take an inch moment of my life could be wrapped up in in a matter of seconds with his explanation of why I wasn't good enough and why I haven't been worth the effort.
Families don't stop when you walk out the door regardless of who did the leaving or who was left behind. We were all collateral damage, broken with a need for mending. And I was just a kid, so crazy hurt by the whole affair that it was easier to push away than to hold on tight. I have the stupidity of my own youth to use as an excuse. I wonder though, what his excuse is? Or if he even has one. And does he miss me as much as I sometimes miss him? Or has he simply chosen to forget that once I was his daughter too?
The Frustration of House Hunting
I'm beginning to think that I may never find the house of my dreams and that it just may be in my dreams that I will ever be able to purchase a house in the area where I want to live. Just my luck, I move to a place where the price of homes, regardless of their condition is higher than anywhere else around just because the zip code happens to be coveted by those who already live there.
Still I'm looking. Every day I get on my computer and see if anything new has been added to the list for sale. And every day I hope against hope that there just may be something on that list that falls within a price range that I can manage to take a look at. Last week I was so close... I found a house I could truly picture myself and KC living in, it was in the right price range and I wasted no time in putting an official offer in. Unfortunately someone else must have had the same idea because one day on the market in my town equated into two official bids, one of which was mine and of course, mine was the one that was not accepted. Or as I said last week was the official offer of levity before the seller could say yes to the real one.
So another house come and gone has left me starting all over again feeling rather hopeless that I'm ever going to find anything that I can afford. At least not when I'm counting on my one and only income to pay the way. It honestly puts me at a disadvantage against anyone with two incomes looking for property. They can get closer to what a seller is asking for, and I've still got to use my common sense when I throw out the number that is my absolute best.
I can only do what I can do though. And though many a person has told me that I just simply need to look somewhere else, the truth of the matter is this... I need to stay where I need to stay for my daughter's education. There's not another school around like the one she's currently in that can offer her the ability to jump start her future before she's even given it a second thought. It offers the very best in teachers. It offers the very best in programs, through and through. It lacks for nothing and they are a true example of no child being left behind. They demand excellence from their students and they get it, and the kids don't even know just how hard they're being pushed.
No... I can't take KC out of this school system. I won't do it. So I'll figure it out... I always do.
Still I'm looking. Every day I get on my computer and see if anything new has been added to the list for sale. And every day I hope against hope that there just may be something on that list that falls within a price range that I can manage to take a look at. Last week I was so close... I found a house I could truly picture myself and KC living in, it was in the right price range and I wasted no time in putting an official offer in. Unfortunately someone else must have had the same idea because one day on the market in my town equated into two official bids, one of which was mine and of course, mine was the one that was not accepted. Or as I said last week was the official offer of levity before the seller could say yes to the real one.
So another house come and gone has left me starting all over again feeling rather hopeless that I'm ever going to find anything that I can afford. At least not when I'm counting on my one and only income to pay the way. It honestly puts me at a disadvantage against anyone with two incomes looking for property. They can get closer to what a seller is asking for, and I've still got to use my common sense when I throw out the number that is my absolute best.
I can only do what I can do though. And though many a person has told me that I just simply need to look somewhere else, the truth of the matter is this... I need to stay where I need to stay for my daughter's education. There's not another school around like the one she's currently in that can offer her the ability to jump start her future before she's even given it a second thought. It offers the very best in teachers. It offers the very best in programs, through and through. It lacks for nothing and they are a true example of no child being left behind. They demand excellence from their students and they get it, and the kids don't even know just how hard they're being pushed.
No... I can't take KC out of this school system. I won't do it. So I'll figure it out... I always do.
Coming to Terms
I wait for better things to happen. Take small pleasures where I can. Cold spaghetti in the morning for breakfast, gardening in the darkness of the night. I ease my mind in quiet ways, taking in my disappointment measure by measure, holding onto it long enough to let it go.
I let go of dreams in singular silence, a sweet exhale of breath that sends dandelion puffs soaring on the wind, scattering seeds, scattering weeds of what remains to make flowers so unwanted by some, and only cherished by few. It is what we make of it I think. The way we feel about something or someone that can take us to the greatest of highs or sink us to the very bottom of our lows.
We choose how we will spend our days and survive our nights. In a low lit room to lose yourself in the thoughts of someone else, in a low lit room to take comfort in the feel of foreign arms. But what comfort can be given if there really is no comfort to receive? Nameless and faceless, a body to slide beneath them to dull their pain. You pretend to feel warmth rather than what you feel. Cold and clinical, waiting for it to just be over, for him to just go home. To stop showing up at your door with a long list of takes and a non-existent list of gives. You grow weary...
"I am not nothing," you say into the silence. He buckles up his pants and pretends to be sorry. You watch him sit there with nothing to say on your couch, waiting for him to say something other than the same old worn out excuse. But he doesn't hear you and he cannot see you, and you think again how invisible you are when you're not being what he wants.
Shedding your skin like ice melting on a hot summer day, you shake him off showing him the door, closing it behind him, thankful only that he is gone and you are coming back into being yourself once more...
I let go of dreams in singular silence, a sweet exhale of breath that sends dandelion puffs soaring on the wind, scattering seeds, scattering weeds of what remains to make flowers so unwanted by some, and only cherished by few. It is what we make of it I think. The way we feel about something or someone that can take us to the greatest of highs or sink us to the very bottom of our lows.
We choose how we will spend our days and survive our nights. In a low lit room to lose yourself in the thoughts of someone else, in a low lit room to take comfort in the feel of foreign arms. But what comfort can be given if there really is no comfort to receive? Nameless and faceless, a body to slide beneath them to dull their pain. You pretend to feel warmth rather than what you feel. Cold and clinical, waiting for it to just be over, for him to just go home. To stop showing up at your door with a long list of takes and a non-existent list of gives. You grow weary...
"I am not nothing," you say into the silence. He buckles up his pants and pretends to be sorry. You watch him sit there with nothing to say on your couch, waiting for him to say something other than the same old worn out excuse. But he doesn't hear you and he cannot see you, and you think again how invisible you are when you're not being what he wants.
Shedding your skin like ice melting on a hot summer day, you shake him off showing him the door, closing it behind him, thankful only that he is gone and you are coming back into being yourself once more...
My First 5K
When the distance behind you is far greater then the distance in front of you. When your feet feel like lead hitting the pavement. When every second challenges your will to keep moving rather than come to a complete stop. When you're there, in that moment, a number pinned to the front of your shirt, your lungs gasping mightily for air, running with everything that once told you that you can't, that you couldn't, that's the moment when you prove them all wrong. Because you can and you are and you realize that you're not crossing a finish line at all, you're trailblazing new beginnings...
A Matter of Convenience
Cold.
I want to remember this word. Remind myself of it sterility. It's lack of warmth. It's indifference.
I paint myself into a corner.
Knowing better and not taking my own advice.
Drawing my line, crossing my line, not knowing when to maintain the lines I've made.
Enough.
It's time to stop.
I want to remember this word. Remind myself of it sterility. It's lack of warmth. It's indifference.
I paint myself into a corner.
Knowing better and not taking my own advice.
Drawing my line, crossing my line, not knowing when to maintain the lines I've made.
Enough.
It's time to stop.
The New Blue
So I'm thinking kayaking today. If the weather holds that is. And I hate to say it, let alone admit it, but as much as I love the whole paddling down a river thing, I still have yet to completely lose my going to tip over and drown fear.
I haven't a clue why it is the whole kayak on top of water sparks in me such fear. I mean, I do know how to swim and I'm not scared of water which pretty much makes my fear irrational or at least not making as much sense as some fears do.
Maybe I was traumatized as a child. Who am I kidding? Did I just say maybe? I WAS traumatized as a child. And I do remember it clearly. I was in a row boat and I couldn't get back to shore, and everyone on Terra firma was finding my situation highly entertaining while I was in tears on the boat. And yes, there is a picture to prove it and I do believe I've already posted it here. (But of course will do so again to make those responsible for it feel bad about making a Kodak moment out of one that has turned out to pour some rain on my whole like to go kayaking parade.)
And I don't have to wonder why life jackets are constantly on my mind, or why I always insist I go out on the water with more than just myself, or why I don't even trust myself (at least not yet) to take KC out alone without a third and more experienced kayaker with me.
I think eventually I'm going to desensitize myself to feeling all this fear, but for the moment it's a stumbling block on my fun parameter that I just need to slowly paddle through.
Gaining Ground
Years ago I packed up my entire life and moved it miles away from home to a house that never once felt like mine, to live with a man who knew only how to be harsh, critical and unkind. I thought that I could live with my mistake and I tried. I really tried. I spent a year trying to be perfect. To do everything right. To keep the house as clean as I could keep it. To keep my mouth shut and not say a word.
Trying so hard to be something I never really wanted to be took its toll. The first few months after I left, I lived as if I were in the witness protection program. Always hiding, always avoiding any place where we might accidentally meet. Always looking over my shoulder, worrying.
My new home became my refuge. I poured my soul out in many colors on the walls. Arranged my furniture in ways that pleased me and made me smile. And ever so slowly, I began to remember what it was like to feel like me. Unburdened.
I like to think that my home and I needed each other. With every coat of paint, with every improvement I made, I released the potential in us both. I would invite people over, and I would say, if you could have seen it before. And I was so proud to come home at the end of the day to a space that always made me feel like it was welcoming me home.
But now I feel the time is coming once again to make a change. To something more permanent, to something that I can truly call my own. And I think I may have found it, or at least I'm hoping that I have. And though there is a sadness to bring anything that has done me well to a close, I know I've gotten what I came here for.
A brand new heart. A brand new chance. A brand new life.
And I am thankful in ways I am still beginning to know.
Trying so hard to be something I never really wanted to be took its toll. The first few months after I left, I lived as if I were in the witness protection program. Always hiding, always avoiding any place where we might accidentally meet. Always looking over my shoulder, worrying.
My new home became my refuge. I poured my soul out in many colors on the walls. Arranged my furniture in ways that pleased me and made me smile. And ever so slowly, I began to remember what it was like to feel like me. Unburdened.I like to think that my home and I needed each other. With every coat of paint, with every improvement I made, I released the potential in us both. I would invite people over, and I would say, if you could have seen it before. And I was so proud to come home at the end of the day to a space that always made me feel like it was welcoming me home.
But now I feel the time is coming once again to make a change. To something more permanent, to something that I can truly call my own. And I think I may have found it, or at least I'm hoping that I have. And though there is a sadness to bring anything that has done me well to a close, I know I've gotten what I came here for.
A brand new heart. A brand new chance. A brand new life.
And I am thankful in ways I am still beginning to know.
My Shiny New Office
My shiny new office has a window that opens up to the bright blue outside and I am happy, happy, happy...
It won't last long, but for today, it's enough!
It won't last long, but for today, it's enough!
Shedding Some Light
In black and white, statistics are manageable numbers. Easily read, easily forgotten, and easily ignored. It's hard to imagine them as they truly are. A face. A name. Someone real.
The reality is rape is a vicious crime against a person, against a body, against a mind that remembers far longer than any visible scars remain. But we don't talk about it. It makes people uncomfortable. Maybe because they don't know what to say. Maybe because it touches far too close to home. Maybe because no one has ever really told us how to react, how to respond, how to grapple with the complexities of an issue that get confused by the notion that sex and rape are one and the same.
If you ask me, I don't believe the statistics. Given the history of rape and it's propensity to be undocumented and unreported, it seems to me that its tentacles far outreach the numbers given. Maybe they're as close to the truth as we can get without ever being able to know for certain what they really are. But those numbers matter. It reminds us of conversations we need to have with our daughters, our sisters, our mothers, our friends.
Rape affects us all whether we have born witness to its wake, or are among those whose lives miraculously go untouched. We cannot continue to live in a world where it's acceptable to sweep violence against women and children under the rug, away from the public eye. We cannot live in the world where victims of violence bear the weight of shame for a crime they did not commit.
April is Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention month. Get the facts, share them with those you know, don't let this discussion stay in the dark. Every conversation counts, every light matters...
Get help. Get information. Support RAINN
The Restorative Value of Down Time
It's early on a Saturday morning, and save for the noise of a random car passing by, all is quiet. This just might be my favorite time of day. When things feel fresh and new and laid back, as if time is somehow moving slower than it does on any other day of the week.
I'm not hurried. Not feeling rushed. Not racing to get out the door at any certain time for any certain endeavor. I am simply in the moment, relaxed and unhurried, refusing to be hassled by the persistence of life intent on keeping its invisible deadline with its rush, rush, rush mentality.
And it's nice to just simply sit here soaking up this silence. To listen to the stillness and rejoice that for the time being all the things that will eventually need to be done, the housework, the shopping, the gym, all of these things can wait a few minutes more.
There is no rush. No reason to do anything but sip my coffee slowly, think my thoughts and take in the morning as if it were mine and mine alone.
I'm not hurried. Not feeling rushed. Not racing to get out the door at any certain time for any certain endeavor. I am simply in the moment, relaxed and unhurried, refusing to be hassled by the persistence of life intent on keeping its invisible deadline with its rush, rush, rush mentality.
And it's nice to just simply sit here soaking up this silence. To listen to the stillness and rejoice that for the time being all the things that will eventually need to be done, the housework, the shopping, the gym, all of these things can wait a few minutes more.
There is no rush. No reason to do anything but sip my coffee slowly, think my thoughts and take in the morning as if it were mine and mine alone.
Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures
So I've decided that it's time to be on a mission. Mostly because it's been forever since my last covert operation and quite possibly because the idea of turning forty sometime in the next six years has me scared to death that I'm gonna hit that number still single and alone...
It turns out this tiny little thought has been enough to propel me into action. And since I've already managed to open mouth and insert foot with a question so out of the ballpark that I still can't even believe it came out of my mouth, I mean really can't believe I said it without cracking up or turning red, I figure just about anything else on the list of needs to be done is a cakewalk from here on out...
I call it Operation W.I.T. Or translated into modern day English, operation whatever it takes. Because that's exactly what I'm going to do.
Whatever it takes.
This girl is not going down without a fight!
Small Reminders
Nothing can get me writing quite like a moment of weakness. And tonight one of those moments instead of leaving me speechless has given me just enough motivation to remember that I have a blog, though more or less abandoned for these past few months, waiting for me to give it words...
Needless to say this is not the levity my mother suggested for me to write. Nor is it really bad either. It's just exactly what it is which is a small level of disappointment mixed with a good level of reality combined with a hint of possibility that maybe now friends can just be friends and mean it. And honestly, I think that now after two years gone, I've learned enough about myself to know that this needs to be enough.
If there is anything I've proved, it's that I can move forward without always feeling the need to look back. Or at least not looking back as often as I used to. And maybe by getting an answer to a question that should not have even been asked, reason temporarily abandoned has been restored.
Needless to say this is not the levity my mother suggested for me to write. Nor is it really bad either. It's just exactly what it is which is a small level of disappointment mixed with a good level of reality combined with a hint of possibility that maybe now friends can just be friends and mean it. And honestly, I think that now after two years gone, I've learned enough about myself to know that this needs to be enough.
If there is anything I've proved, it's that I can move forward without always feeling the need to look back. Or at least not looking back as often as I used to. And maybe by getting an answer to a question that should not have even been asked, reason temporarily abandoned has been restored.
My Cup Runneth Nowhere
I tried... I failed... I'm out of practice...
How is it I have no stories to tell?
How is it I have no stories to tell?
A Moment Of...
There is a space between words. A breath. A moment of silence that holds the truth of my thoughts. That if there was a way to be there beside you and hold your hand, I'd comfort you.
There is a space between breaths. A moment of silence when you know that nothing between us has changed regardless of how it feels when the walls in our cleverly guarded conversations crumble with the force of familiarity.
I cannot help wanting to ease your pain. I cannot help remembering the pain you caused. I cannot help wanting to open the door. I cannot help knowing I have to keep it closed.
There is a space between breaths. A moment of silence when you know that nothing between us has changed regardless of how it feels when the walls in our cleverly guarded conversations crumble with the force of familiarity.
I cannot help wanting to ease your pain. I cannot help remembering the pain you caused. I cannot help wanting to open the door. I cannot help knowing I have to keep it closed.
A Sunday Morning Rain
I love a slow Sunday morning. Love listening to the sound of traffic lazily rolling by. Love being under my blanket on the couch still in my pajamas with a book in my hands and music softly enveloping the room.
I love being calm. The sense of fulfillment it brings to simply absorb the quiet and enjoy the smallest moment of my day. The moment before everything else of everything else is allowed in to distract me.
Peace is not overrated. Feeling welcome in your own home is the simplest of all joys to claim. Learn to be happy where you are even when happiness seems as hopeless as winter giving way to spring.
The Beauty of Being Found
There are nights when I could spend forever looking for the perfect song to play. Sometimes to capture a feeling, sometimes to chase the blues away, sometimes to bring myself to tears on purpose.
And I get so deep into the sound that I don't even realize my eyes have been closed for hours, and the darkness I thought I was existing in erupts into a brilliant pool of light reminding me, I am here... I am here.
It's like I have to constantly lose myself to find myself. Much like a gardener with a spade digging a hole to plant a bulb to watch it bloom in Spring. I am a repeating repeater. Circling back to check to see the where of where I've been and the someplace I've still miles yet to go, so busy with this finding of me and who I am.
Unearthing.
Uncovering.
Digging deeper just to know I've got it right.
And I get so deep into the sound that I don't even realize my eyes have been closed for hours, and the darkness I thought I was existing in erupts into a brilliant pool of light reminding me, I am here... I am here.
It's like I have to constantly lose myself to find myself. Much like a gardener with a spade digging a hole to plant a bulb to watch it bloom in Spring. I am a repeating repeater. Circling back to check to see the where of where I've been and the someplace I've still miles yet to go, so busy with this finding of me and who I am.
Unearthing.
Uncovering.
Digging deeper just to know I've got it right.
