Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Buck Nekkid School of Smooth

There are some people who just get it. For whatever reason, they know how to blow a woman's socks off. They've got looks, intelligence, manners and a grasp of modern chivalry that makes my spine tingly.

Meet my friend, Buck Nekkid. He really DOES exist. He doesn't just act that way because he's hitting on you. He is actually, publicly in complete and total adoration of his beautiful wife. I refuse to believe that he has ever treated a woman any differently than he has treated me. I am enamored of him, and he's the standard now.

Let me tell about our lunch trip. I needed to run an errand, he needed to go, too. So we went together.

In the lobby, he complimented me on my outfit. He brought the car around so I didn't have to walk with heels in the mud. He reached over to open the door for me and turned on the heated seats to keep my tushie warm.

We did our errands and let me choose where to eat. He treated and offered dessert. When he noticed I needed a fork, he jumped out of his seat to get me one. He opened doors, looked into my eyes when we spoke, and asked questions like he was paying attention.

Now, I have had all of those things happen-- but never all at once and never on a casual lunch date with a friend. And the fork thing...I want someone to notice I need a fork and fetch it for me before I even know I need it. That's special right there....I don't care what anyone says.

(Mrs. Nekkid, we girls who have been married are SURE he does a whole list of annoying things at home. Please don't ever tell us. We like the fantasy, right Salesgirl? and the fact that he's so in love with you makes him even more fetching. We love our rose colored glasses!)

So Buck and I joked about writing a book together about online dating. (Well, I was serious.) 'Cause guys need help. How many penis pictures did I receive when I was on Yahoo Personals? ICK!

Then, Buck started to coach me. It is like going to charm school hanging out with him. Stand straight, don't hide by the bar, you must ALWAYS have a drink in your hand. My personal favorite, "don't scrape out ear wax and flick it at me".

Truth be told, I'm really a very, very rough around the edges girl when it comes to manners and all things girly. The Maven took me to buy makeup for the first time since my wedding (13 years ago) just this past September. Sometimes I belch in the office after a good Diet Pepsi, loudly-- it is so unconscious that I don't realize I'm even doing it!

So you can imagine where I am on the basics of ladylike behavior. Anything I know, I learned by accident. But I'm pretty neat otherwise and I think (hope) people overlook it. Except when you're dating those things aren't' overlooked. I'd hate to know someone didn't ask me out again because I spit a little when I spoke or I picked food up off the table unconsciously when it fell off my fork and ate it. I have to be imperfect somehow, right? :-D {{nervous laughter}}

Realistically, I know I'd play hell locating and scoring a single guy at my age that is up to Buck's standards. But it never hurts to see what it's like to be called up to the majors, you know?

So, ladies and gents...get some charm schooling. Try some chivalry on for size. Find an opposite sex friend that is comfortable enough to show you how valuable you are to them and help bring out the best in yourself. Or suck it up and love yourself just the way you are.

Thanks, Buck. Now I'm confused as hell!

The Sunny Side

I'm still limping from my work outs. I'm not sure if the leg cramps I have now are still from running Sunday, or spinning Monday or swimming today. I just know that going up the steps is interesting. Still looking for a cheap road bike, or I'll have to break down and get all the crap fixed on this one. Spinning again tomorrow!

A big bowl of pasta for dinner tonight and lunch today FINALLY got rid of the constant hunger pain. YIPEE!

Tippytornado offered to race with me on his bike...a Dora the Explorer big wheel. Such a good boy. I'd have such a good time if I could train with the boys!

Karateboy is one special kid. No really. He was sound asleep when I woke him yesterday morning. He immediately asked me if I was still sad. I told him I was, and that Wayne had died. He's only met Wayne in a few times and might recognize him, but mostly he only knows that he was someone important to me. Karateboy (eyes still groggy from sleep) reached up and hugged me with the best, sweetest, back patting hug I've ever gotten. So genuine and caring. I think I didn't screw him up too badly yet!

Things are looking up (or at least I am!)
  • More than one civil conversation has passed between myself and STBX.
  • He's finally hired a lawyer so we can get the legal stuff out of the way
  • A friend from far away has offered to spoil me in return for something I'd long since forgotten that I'd done for her. Even if I never get the thing, the spoiling thought is what counts
  • Someone unexpectedly offered to do something I felt I was long since entitled to (and pretty bitter about not having)-- and given up hope of ever having in my life--- but the gesture truly knocked my socks off, but I'm sworn to secrecy. WOW!
  • I'm flabbergasted by how many people I know have promised (unprompted) to be at the finish line for the Triathlon. Now I have to do it! And do my very, very best! They're counting on me.

It just helps some days to stop and take stock of those who are holding you up. Even if they're buying you drinks at happy hour or sending you their friend's myspace page 'cause you think I'd like to date him. It is all good. I'm having a great time, and it can only get better.

The encouragement feels good. Now I need to make sure I return the favor! Rock on! :-D

Sunday, January 28, 2007

Wayne died today....

First rule of journalism...catchy headline. But I couldn't think of anything else to say. I'm soooo in shock.

Wayne was Dragginlady's stepfather. I met him shortly after I befriended Dragginlady in 1986. We both had puffy hair and thought Duran Duran and Bon Jovi were cool.

I don't know the exact time line here, but everything happened very quickly.

He went to the ER because his cold had gotten out of hand, and he couldn't breathe. He was placed on a ventilator, diagnosed with a deadly cancer, friends were called this morning, and by this afternoon he was gone.

Dragginlady's step dad was always the quiet type, but when he talked, you listened. Like EF Hutton, his one liners were zingers and usually aimed at Dragginlady or one of us girls and our silly teenage selves. Full of wit and wisdom, that one was.

As I grew up, Wayne became one of a very few men that I implicitly trusted. He was always right there, with his wife, when I needed anything. I remember Karateboy's Christening breakfast, when he volunteered to help me replace all the windows in the townhouse. Friends don't come like that every day. Not only did he think we could do it, he was talking to ME and not a guy. I know he believed in me.

He was always a steady, consistent, rock in my life, especially when it was a sea of madness. I knew (even though I rarely did) I could go to Wayne and his lovely wife anytime-- and they'd help me. How many times did I think about Wayne and what a great husband he is and think-- wow, if someone like that loved me, I'd probably screw it up.

More recently, as my situation with STBX got crazy, he sent words of advice and encouragement through Dragginlady. He had a crazy X, too. But he treated his second wife like the golden treasure that she is. I never called him. I wish I had. But he was always there, on the periphery. He so would have laughed at the ladder story, and would have laughed and encouraged me with this whole triathlon thing.

I guess I feel like I got punched in the gut. All these other not-so-nice people get to walk the earth, hurting others and taking names. Wayne, on the other hand, kept mostly to himself, loved his family, his boat and fishing. Honorable, solid, and of excellent character.

It just isn't fair at all. I still need to tell him about the ladder. And consult with him on the resulting tears to the window screens. He hasn't even seen the new house. I really need him to tell me everything is just fine and the world doesn't suck nearly as much as it feels like it does right now.

I want him to take me and the boys fishing on his boat. I can still hear his voice in my head. The only thing that makes me feel worse is how the rest of his family, people I've known for 20 years, feel with this HUGE gap in their lives. He was in my periphery. How would you breathe when someone you love every day disappears? Can you even imagine? And they're comforting me as I cry.

It just isn't fair. I'd post a picture but I don't have the stamina to go find one.

My First Day as a Future Triathlete

First, let's all celebrate my ability to just spell the word. Triathlete.

Then shout out to the Maven who answered my desperate call at 7 a.m. on a Sunday to point me toward the right gym for my 7:15 class. Gotta love friends like that.

So, I'm a few minutes late, my bike is a piece of crap AND it doesn't fit on the trainer properly without some adjustments requiring tools. I'm the fat chick in a class of serious runners or swimmers who are doing this to brush up on the sports they're not serious in. I'm there 'cause I'm not serious about anything!

I'm riding said bike, but there is no resistance...no sweating...actually really nice to just pedal in the air and smile the whole time. I did pick up on technique, though, and really was able to pay attention to my form (tee hee hee!)

So, riding is over, then it is time for running. Running has never been my friend. I tried it once when I was in middle school and I was already too bouncy. Perhaps if there was a single person to have encouraged that endeavor, but no, mostly they laughed.

So, we ran to the track, which wasn't so bad. I wasn't always last. But I was frequently 2nd to last.

The good news? The person behind me had already run the Iron Girl last year!! She took a running class and has done a 5k!! ME?? I ran to the bathroom once. God sends you confidence in such interesting packages. The other athletes are in excellent shape, and I made a joke about looking at their firm tushies as they lapped us. Again and again. If you can't be good, be funny, right GMAN?

More good news? Everyone in the class is so encouraging. Really. Even after my tushie jokes. They've gone out of their way to learn my name and high five me when I don't pass out. This is really cool. Like extended future MILFdom. I may just purchase a social life.

Tuesday is the swimming and just getting the suit on is a workout, so let's just hold our breaths. They are nice people and very encouraging, but I can't imagine them not busting a gut when I walk into the pool with my Speedo. Fat sticks out everywhere. Thank God I look better in clothes.

On a high from my class, Dragginlady called me. Her stepfather has terminal cancer. He's on a ventilator. I can't even type this without crying uncontrollably. Heaving, sobbing, painful tears. The just found out and it's already spread everywhere and it isn't treatable. One day you have a cough and aren't feeling well, the next day of to the ER and you might not come home again.

Dragginlady is the kind of person you want to raise your kids if something every happened to you. Her step father is the kind of guy that steps in when your dad abandons you. This is unimaginably painful for me, and I can't even bear to think what she might be feeling.

Please keep her and her family in your prayers.

And keep moving forward with baby steps. And hold hands while you do it, even if it is just virtual web hands. 'Cause most of us, that might be all we have right now.

Saturday, January 27, 2007

The Morning After....

Well, getting married so young, I don't think I'd been to happy hour since I was legally able to do so.

Buck Nekkid and SalesGirl arranged to escort me last evening to the friendly neighborhood meat market. I invited a friend, she invited a friend. There were a group of work friends already there.....big group of fun fun FUN people.

SalesGirl....why did I pick this name for you? The whole notion of a) your job is a little bit of that and it clearly makes you tick b) you kept mentioning 'the sale' last night-- so it fits.

So Buck proceeded to get me drinks (such a gentleman-- I have a big post on that one coming soon) SalesGirl scanned the room for targets. Buck schooled me in how to stand, where to stand, and what the moves were that I should expect.

Buck, no one made the move. As much as I left my somewhat ample hips out in public for someone to touch as they moved by....didn't happen. Well it did happen once, but when I turned to look he was lost in the crowd. Buck, you don't realize that you're a whole different kind of guy than the run of the mill happy hour hanger. 'Latinoness' puts you in a very different category in a good way. So as long as you are the measure of all things (and gracious thanks to your lovely wife for letting you join us) I should be healthily uncoupled for a good, long time.

Back to the bar--- There WERE all the girls who clearly wanted to rub their boobs on my back. Eventually Mooch and I switched places so he could get rubbed on some-- well by someone other than that very tall, older woman dating one of our co-workers. She was rubbin' everyone. And not in a good way. In a charitable, snotty, I'm-so-much-better-than-you-but-look-I-have-a-boyfriend way. Definitely a normally-I'd-never-touch-you-but-I'm-taken-so-it's-safe sort of way.

Next time I'm wearing a sign. 'Please don't rub your sparkly boobies on my back. Thanks. The Management'

There were a few people who were clearly looking at me and repeatedly caught my gaze, BUT THEY WERE AT TABLES WITH WOMEN! Scum. There was also the guy from the band who pretty much broke his neck to check me out TWICE, but no moves.

So just enough attention so I don't feel like a frog, but not so much that I got stupid.

I happily sipped my drinks and smiled and laughed with people I've mostly known for a very long time.

What wisdom has come of this? It is nice to get dressed up, hang out, have a few drinks and laugh at the meat market passing by. Surprised I lasted as long as I did, and I probably should have had something to eat a some point.

Actually the wisdom is understanding being alone. Since STBX left, every one's advice was to spend some time alone. Which I took as alone, in my house, never leaving, just reading books, watching movies and knitting. UTTERLY ALONE. You all know that lasts about 10 minutes before I go crazy.

I think I misunderstood. They meant alone, as in not part of a couple. COOL! But not alone not being social. I don't think I could not be out entertaining some group of people or another-- men women, it doesn't really matter.

I just started stupidly with online dating because I didn't know how to start having a social life outside the confines of suburbia. A Pampered Chef party is one thing, happy hour is quite another.

So in the safety and security of about 15 people from work, I laughed, flirted and drank. I knew no one was going to let anything bad happen to me and I knew I couldn't hook up with any of them. There were clear, safe boundaries, and I was able to let loose a little.

Thanks Buck and Sales and the rest of the gang for NOT telling everyone at work much about my tequila potty mouth and showing me a good time. And letting me hold onto you when the rotation of the earth hit a speed bump and I thought I was going to fall.

I think I like this just being me, as long as I get to leave the house!! :-)

For the record: This triathlon thing has NOTHING I repeat NOTHING to do with cute gym guy. I've been talking about it for quite some time, and I originally thought I was going to do it as a relay. I waited to register while I recovered from my surgery and decided between relay or individual. SalesGirl was apparently NOT someone on my list of people that I thought might be able to help me with that decision. I was a little peeved when she didn't believe my explanation. Triathlon preceded gym guy. The Maven will tell you, I was trying to talk her into it!

Friday, January 26, 2007

Hot Monkey Sex Friday

Happy Day! Yet another week of no Hot, no Monkeys, nor sex for me, but I still like to celebrate all the naked love in the world!

Gman is working on a bit of a logo, and I tell ya, our brainstorming sessions just keep me laughing and laughing. We've got some goodies up our sleeves, so stay tuned. Share your ideas. Tell us how you've commemorated this special day.

Today's discussion is about age. No one I talk to seems to have a hard, fast strategy on the age of the person you are attracted to. But one particular friend brought up a great point. Women in their 30's are peaking, men are on the downward slide. Makes a good case for taking the 23-year old I met on Plenty of Fish in November for a ride.

Attraction is attraction, right? Passion is passion, right? Looking is too much work.

Meh. Bah humbug. Hard pill to swallow, but as TXGAMBIT pointed out yesterday in an e-mail-- HE'S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU. To which I retort, not into me?? how can that be?? I'm so freakin' cool!! But she's so right, and so many of you have told me that. It just takes the right timing and phrasing to get it through my thick, thick head. The guy I date needs to love me at least as much as I love me and probably damn close to how much Karateboy and Tippytornado worship me. That's the new standard. Unless I choose someone for the simple joy of sex.

Off to happy hour this evening with my hot, married friends. They promise to teach me a thing or two. If nothing else, there will be alcohol involved and good friends! We will toast HOT MONKEY SEX FRIDAY!

Friday Check In

I weigh myself often. Now don't roll your eyes and think I'm obsessed with my weight, I'm merely obsessed with measurement. Fun in our house at jammy time is taking turns getting on the scale. We weigh ourselves holding certain toys, and with one foot in the air, and after we take a bath and our hair is wet...then we do the math to decide how much the change weighs. We are a family of proud nerds, but not so extreme that we ALWAYS carry rulers with us. Only sometimes.

C'mon, you've all weighed yourself after a good healthy poo to see how much you let loose! If people didn't do that, then people wouldn't keep their scales in the bathrooms. I know I'm at least a half a pound heavier with my hair wet....just good to know.

I cycled three times this week, signed up for the IRON GIRL Triathlon (and I'm scared to death I'm going to make an idiot of myself-- yet I press on! Tomorrow I pay for my triathlon class, and buy a bathing suit and stress over my mountain bike. I will be very busy every other weekend for 200 or so days. I want to look like my cycling instructors. And achieve something. Yeah me. If you look at the Iron Girl web site, you will see my name in the list of first timers -- you'd have to know my real name.

Since I'm so cheap, I'm not backing down now, 'cause I plunked down $90 for the honor of being on that web site. My goal is to merely finish, and hopefully not be the slowest person. Last year's slowest newbie finished in 3 hours, 45 minutes. If I do it in less than 3 and 30, I'm good.

Getting lots of encouragement, and a friend at work reminded me that after I finish (on August 20th) I could actually describe myself as a Tri-Athlete. My family is laughing their asses off right now because they never, never ever would have described me as an athlete. Kiss my ass, family. I can be whatever I want. And you'll be cheering for me at the finish line!

(the rest of this post is for girls only, Jack, Buck, GMan and any of the rest of my male admirers, go back and re-read the previous post-- trust me)

You know, I must be bloated. That's what the calendar tells me. On Wednesday, I weighed myself and I was down 2.5 lbs. Today. Nothing. If anything I'm up half a pound. So next week, I'm expecting some movement, after all this water (and the pimples) leave me.

I ate ok, and worked out, and muscle is heavier than fat, right! I feel really, really good about myself, and I'm looking darn hot today in my new shirt, so happy me! I am on my way to MILFdom despite the turncoat scale!

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Karateboy's Birthday

Yesterday, Karateboy informed me that it was 'Karateboy's Birthday Eve'.

That was simply the funniest thing I heard all day. He gets as excited about his birthday as I do. It is like a milestone-- I lived through another year and so did HE! And he's so PERFECT!

Yes, he's mouthy and ill-behaved, but in a way that just melts my heart.

Dear Karateboy,

I can't believe it has been 7 years. I remember just about every moment of your life. From the moment I named you when I was 8 years old, to the moment I found out you were in my tummy (May 20, 1999), your birth, your first steps, first words, first tooth....right up to the last moment I kissed you good-bye and reminded you to be your best at school today. It is a sappy Savage Garden song (written by Prince), but I KNOW "I loved you before I met you, I think I dreamed you into life". I'll play that song for you any time you'd like.

I see so much of myself in your eyes, some days it is like looking in the mirror. I still think you need your behind kicked more often. While simultaneously keeping you in a pure bubble so you never experience undo disappointment, sadness or pain I want you to be tough enough to take the bumps of life and always come out on top.

Oh the joy of YOU reminding ME of things. You know better, but you still occasionally test the verbal limits of our allowable vocabulary. You ALWAYS test the behavior/patience limits of the people around you. It is in this regard that I'm never really sure you'll make it to the next year.

Right now, we're trying to decide if you should be allowed to test for your orange belt. Your grades are great, your skills are great, but you bore easily and cause trouble in school. You're easily distracted by toys and fun-- perfectly normal for your age-- but it leaves you difficult to motivate. I hope you outgrow this soon, it is all typical and average boy behavior, but my goodness, I keep feeling like there is something I should be doing. This is a lesson in motherhood. It is all up to you.

You are my blessing and joy. You remind me constantly that there is love and hope in my life. Just being around you is one of my greatest pleasures. I'm so glad God gave you to me.

With abounding love,
Happy Birthday my sweet prince!

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Cute Gym Guy

I've mentioned to a few of you that there is a nice, pleasant young man who has begun attending cycling class-- at 5:30 a.m. you don't get that very often. He's very chatty and I enjoy working out with him. He's done triathlons, so we have a lot to talk about because I JUST SIGNED UP FOR THIS ONE! (more on that bit of insanity on Friday)

What follows is the complete measure of my retartedness.

I shared with another friend from class that I was peeved to be on the 'wait list' because I wanted to see if cute gym guy would me out. At the volume I speak, I'm sure everyone heard. I'm such an idiot. I guess I was high on my new underwear profile.

(How quickly the ego doth grow!)

So, I investigated and found his last name by leaning over the sign in sheet this morning.

He was in class, and rode next to me, as become his habit, and we enjoyed another great class.

At work, found his entry for the May triathlon. Determined he is in the next age bracket below me.

Proceeded to Google him.

Found his high school math award (I think) FROM 1999.

Did a white pages search....confirmed with middle initial and some other information.

Oh, well-- apparently on the LOW end of the age bracket. I was pregnant in 1999, and pretty much his age now!! At least he's smart and fun to work out with. And if I pick up some triathlon tips, good for me!!

Moving on!

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

The Mirror

I saw the most amazing thing yesterday. In the mirror. I was wearing a new pair of undies I picked up at K Mart in Wilkes-Barre (for those keeping score, I constantly forget to pack them and therefore must buy new ones in every city I visit).

They weren't expensive, I wasn't even sure they were the right size when I bought them, but I was commando and uncomfortable with the notion. I purchased them and put them on right there in the store bathroom.

Back to my mirror. I was walking in the hallway in a bra and panties to nudge the boys along. There is a full length mirror in said hallway. I caught my reflection AND I DIDN'T WANT TO VOMIT! I didn't want to cover myself and hide! It wasn't BAD!

I mean, we're not talking Vicky's Secrets...I've had two kids and a recent surgery...but for me, who has been a little on the heavy side my whole life...WOWOW WOWEE!! I might let my tummy see the light of day this summer.

CAN YOU IMAGINE? My thighs didn't have the same rolls, they still have bumps but no ROLLS! My stomach doesn't extend beyond my breasts in a flappy, nasty way.


I might wear them on the OUTSIDE! Just kidding.

I encourage all the MILFs to go out and find some panties that compliment their curves. It did wonders for my attitude!!! WOOPEEE!

No one else might ever see me naked again, but it makes me happy to know I'm gettin' it together. WOO HOOOOOO! To the GYM tomorrow ladies!! To the gym!!!

Monday, January 22, 2007

Faster than the speed of data

Today, I realized that I move faster than the speed of data. Folks have made fun of me for running at top speed all the time. Today, I measured it.

I clicked 'print' on a document from my office. The shared network printer is roughly 25 steps away. At my normal pace, I got to the printer before my first page started to print. I am faster than data. HEAR ME ROAR!!!

I found this cool blog self portrait day.com -- it is neat to see how people see themselves. I have a friend, Dave that painted his head sort of floating like a hot air balloon nailed down. It was very telling of his thoughts at the time-- small kids and all the stress that goes with it. I didn't understand that self-portrait until I had kids of my own. It wasn't being tied down in a negative way, but grounded even though your head tries repeatedly to float to the clouds. Anyway, I'd have to think a bit on my idea of a self portrait.

Last topic. Libras are terrible drivers. I warned all of you that I hate driving because it requires so much concentration and that you're at the mercy of every other loser on the road. I long for my past of riding the bus in Wilkes-Barre, PA. This MSN article explains why!


Sunday, January 21, 2007

I like to shop...

I like to shop and I LOVE to buy. Thinkgeek.com, Mightygoods, and 100 other places!

I like to buy, but refrain. Somehow just KNOWING I could buy something should the spirit move me is almost as comforting as having it myself.

HOWEVER, as the last mushy holiday of the holiday season is upon us, the Valentine's Gift Guides are in full swing. Can I PLEASE lurk on the 'net without having this fake Hallmark holiday waved in my face?? PUUUULLLLEEEEAASE!

No one is going to buy me a rock, a ring, or a MEH hoodie. My attitude repels all of those around me. What? You say I can buy them for someone else? I don't like anyone else enough. Bah humbug! I say!!

I've already made precious little doodads for my sweet babies. I will kiss them up one side and down the other like I do every other day of my life.

When I had libido-inspired sparkles in my eyes a few weeks ago (caused by PAGuy) I asked what a girl was to do for Valentines day. Do your thing, just do it in private, OK?

Even though EHarmony.com commercials are partially to blame for my divorce (I'm not kidding) I don't FREAKIN' care about finding the love of my life.

I care about beige bras and oatmeal.

So, please take your diamonds, and your chocolate, and your sweet, handmade, inexpensive-but-thoughtful-gifts and your fancy dresses and dinners out and stick them so far up your ass they come out your nose. 'Cause I'm done.

Please let me watch TV and peruse the Internet in peace. 'Cause that's what single people do.

Your target market is OUT!!! Dumbasses!

Saturday, January 20, 2007

Ladder For Rent

Yep, bought a 24 foot extension ladder today. Hilarity ensues.

It started off like the most unusual Saturday in YEARS. The children and I woke up at 8ish after going to bed at 10ish-- fully rested. We worked together to clean the basement playroom and the family room. As promised, I took them shopping for birthday presents for their friends and swimming. Tippytornado fell asleep as on cue on the way home from the pool, and Karateboy and I settled down at about 3ish for an afternoon of quiet and cartoons.

I felt so accomplished! If we kept up this routine, I might succeed in teaching the boys that if they do a little work first, playing later is sooo much BETTER!

Resisting the urge to take a nap on such otherwise perfect day, I thought I'd run off to Home Depot and get new furnace filters. We're way overdue for a change. Pulling out of the driveway, I can see that part of my gutter is hanging down over the window. CRAP!

Several phone calls to GMan and my mother later, I'm at Home Depot, purchasing a $200 extension ladder to investigate said plastic hangy thingy.

See, that $200 was SUPPOSED to be my lovely new down comforter so that I might return the one GMan and Maven loaned me. I've been unbearably cold this winter, and I borrowed theirs for a test drive. I purchased one last night. Lucky I didn't put it on the bed. Goodbye beautifully baffled Hungarian cotton, hello bright orange fiberglass-- good to 300 lbs!

It was hard enough to get the ladder out of the holder thingy at Home Depot. Actually getting it out the door was yet another. See, I'm 5'2" and the ladder is 12 feet. I needed to pivot it down parallel with the ground so I could carry it out of the store. So, draw this picture, little teeny me, holding the ladder about 4 feet off the ground. Trying to turn it on it's side.

Did anyone take physics? Where is the pivot point here? If I'm holding it at 4 feet, that means there is 9 feet of ladder over my head, heading for the hard concrete floor of the store. The latter wasn't heavy, just swingy, making it heavier than I could handle. It was like being a part of a giant pendulum.

Two women applauded me (I kid you not) as I hoisted that puppy in the back of my minivan. I drove home slowly with the hatch open. Note: not a single person who stopped and stared offered to help.

The fact that I've never operated an extension ladder didn't stop me from trying to figure out how to get it up. My mother, who knows everything, started to bang on the window of her room and yell at me. I think she missed me giving her the finger.

I tried to fully extend the ladder to my 20 footish roof level, but I could only push it up 6 feet or so. How do you get the ladder further open? Mom (who knows everything) didn't waste a moment making fun of me as she demonstrated what the rope on the ladder is for and how you can extend it by pulling on said rope and ratcheting it up all the we.

Now, don't for a minute think getting the ladder fully extended was that easy. Picture mom and I screaming and yelling at each other, the ladder swaying this way and that. Foul language abounds. Nuff said.

Even though the ladder was good to 300lbs, I took the liberty of going up. There is nothing fun about being on a ladder that high on a windy day. Mom (who knows everything) called me a chicken and every other name she could think of-- wait it was only chicken but she REPEATED it over and over again-- as I slowly and carefully climbed the ladder. Such a pain in the ass. See, I was wearing my fabulous new suede coat and I didn't want to fall and get blood on it and stuff. It was new, it was cheap and it is from KOHLS!

I got up there, ripped out the hanging gutter cover thing, and wrestled with the ladder to get it to descend. I don't even know where to store a freakin' ladder that big.

So that I could feel like I accomplished something went to change the furnace filter. I can't get the old one out. I'm so freakin' hopeless.

My arms hurt, I'm tired and I want to run my mother over with the minivan. I'm going stamping with the ladies tonight and I will be having wine. Then I'll be returning my new comforter to return equilibrium to my checking account. Tonight I'll be cuddling that FREAKIN' LADDER. I'm such a lucky girl.

Barbie had it half right, we girls CAN do anything-- but we shouldn't have to.

So, if you're in the Columbia area, ladder for rent. I really want my own down comforter. Wise ass mother-- FREE TO A GOOD HOME!

Friday, January 19, 2007

Hot Monkey Sex Fridays

I mentioned it as just an off the cuff comment, and yet, somehow it has stuck with me since that post. Perhaps it was because it excited TXGAMBIT as much as it did me. Must be a single/divorced girl thing.

I don't know quite HOW to celebrate Hot Monkey Sex Fridays, since there is clearly no heat, monkey nor sex in my life (nor any significant promise of it in the future), but I'm always up for a celebration. Technically, at the end of a work week, a work out is the last thing on my mind.....but just saying it out loud makes me giggle and a little bit tingly at the same time.

This week's thought: When your significant other asks for it, remember what it felt like to not have it so AVAILABLE and convenient. Remember when your biggest concern was that you'd get caught/pregnant? Ah, those were the days.....

So celebrate Hot Monkey Sex Friday appropriately and responsibly. I feel a T Shirt coming on....

Friday Check In

My weight loss/fitness drivers are:
  • not to be diabetic
  • control my IBS
  • be comfortable in my body
  • be able to keep up with my kids
  • be a mom they're proud of
  • Not be OBESE on any of the stupid doctor's charts.

Something about that last one. Most people would say that I'm average..technically I'm a size or two below average. While I could stand to lose a few pounds, I don't know that anyone would describe me as OBESE. Maybe in a bathing suit.

So, I'm clicking around the Lean Cuisine Website looking for the insulated bag that was advertised on the back of my ravioli's when I find a Body Mass Indicator Calculator.

I remember the last time I had a BMI done at the gym and a body fat percentage. I was almost 50% body fat a few years ago. I don't remember my BMI, but I was close to the top end of the OBESE scale. I know we all say these indicators are CRAP. But 100's of years of medical research can't be THAT wrong when you're talking about health risks.

So the BMI Calculator says my BMI is 30.18 WHICH IS .19 ABOVE NORMAL!

I'm just 5 pounds away from being in the HEALTHY range!

I've been OBESE my whole life, and I just got the push I needed to be HEALTHY. It is so close, I can almost taste it. Well, maybe not taste exactly.

So this week, I:

Weight lost: none. I think I gained a pound
Exercise:cycling two times, oh and flying off the handle and jumping to conclusions (do they count as exercise?)
Stories/hurdles: I was a little depressed early on and hit a box of chocolates, but just a few. Then, the youth program at church served breakfast for dinner last night. I was face down in greasy, yummy hash browns when The Maven handed me a bowl of chocolate covered doughnuts. That's what friends are for. The IBS has been terrible, probably due to stress.

....and DEEPEST apologies to Jaybird. I was in town, I didn't call, and I whined like a baby. She even was thoughtful enough to buy me a present and I couldn't get my very sorry act together enough to drop by and say hello. I'm a loser. Sorry. I'm tiny and embarrassed.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Dr Jeff Day

So, Dr Jeff reassures me that I am mentally healthy and processing through this crap in the right way. And that despite what everyone is telling me, if a guy asks me on a date it is OK to say yes, but maybe I should stop posting my availability on billboards. Fair enough.

He also agreed that I should have as 'alone time' as I think I need, and that it's perfectly OK to seek more social outlets with my free weekends, rather than solitary ones. Good point.

So there are guys that have approached me to be candidates for Hot Monkey Sex Fridays and there are guys that are gentlemen who ask permission to kiss me. I'm less attracted to the latter because a girl with all this power likes someone else who has power, too. That's not to say I want my curvy behind kissed all the time (well, maybe) but I want to be enamored enough to pucker up, too.

Being all powerful is great, except in the patience department. Dr Jeff and I discussed today how I need to explore what parts of the Hot Monkey Sex guys and the gentleman I like the most and wait (rather than keep looking) 'till I find the right combination. In the meantime, I should not be settling and making myself available only to those who don't return phone calls.

As part of this therapeutic journey, my friend Dragginlady and I are reading a book together, and blogging about it. Approval Addiction is going to help us explore, in a Christan-faith based tool, our own need for external approval and motivation. Dragginlady is freakin' hysterical, and we're out to show that Christian women aren't all crazy. Well, maybe we are, but in a good way.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Everything I Need to Know I Learned Online


It started small. I started reading Slate because it was funny, but true. Then, The Maven began to answer every question with, "I bet they have that online". The year was 1999 and the pattern began.

Since then, I've learned every tidbit I'll ever need about parenting, disease, the world, my friends, my neighbors and just about everything else online.

That was abundantly evident to me when I started meeting PAGuy's friends, a totally unplugged group. Questions like "So, what kind of books do you read?" was answered with stunned silence because I read blogs. Because I'd pick a biography over fiction any day. It was hard enough to explain a blog to the uninitiated, but to not be able to SHOW them was even harder. Or "what kind of music do you listen to" throws me totally off kilter because I'd have to show them my myspace page to remember.

Or, when I started every sentence with, "I found this cool website that...."

For how many years have I done 90% of my shopping online? BECAUSE I can COMPARE before I buy. Plus, I'm cheap and lazy.

Plus, I don't feel so weird here. There are WAAAY wierder people. And I love all of you. I love that you don't care if my hair is frizzy or if I make a face or if there is stunned silence when you ask me a question while I gather my thoughts. Internet, you are my friend when I need a friend, my resource when I need a resource. I love that I can share my dippyiest thoughts and someone might read it, and someone might not. When I'm pissed off, I can share that, too, without working about spitting while I'm yelling or actually hauling off and giving you a good bitch slap. Then, I can laugh my ass off at the people on Craig's list and know that all is right with the world.

There is comfort in knowing that there are other people as bi polar as I am who post one day about how they love Christ, the next day about their love of spreadsheets, followed by expressions of the love of their children and always wrap up the week with I LOVE HOT MONKEY SEX Fridays.

'Cause all of them are me...a combination of extremes and you know what happens when you combine extremes....you get an average. Average is good.


So, I decided I was going to take advantage of our flexible work environment and work from home every Wednesday. Just because I can.

Well, last Wednesday was fabulous and productive. Today, I was standing in the foyer in full makeup, suit, etc. when I realized it was Wednesday. I'm not wasting pantyhose and a makeup application to sit on my couch. That level of fabulous dress isn't even REQUIRED where I work, so I needed to get points for going above and beyond. Plus, working from home ADDS to my commute because I have to pass the office to drop Tippytornado off at daycare. So there. I'm in the office.

God has a sick sense of humor.

For those keeping score, this week ('cause everything goes wrong on Tuesdays) PAGuy and I seem to be off again (this would be the third time for those of you keeping score at home). Not so much the call on Friday that the weekend was cancelled due to an auto/laundry emergency. More that he was peeved that I came to town anyway to see my family and proceeded to tease him. I'm getting the silent treatment. Or rather the, 'hey call me tomorrow but I'm not going to answer my phone so you can wonder if I'm ignoring you or my answering machine really DOES suck or I've decided that we don't need to talk every day." Any of the above would have been totally cool, except when he was expecting a call from me and I went to sleep or whatever. I left one final message yesterday, to send me a smoke signal or something so I know what's going on, else I'm moving on. I'm not the kind of girl you dangle on the end of a string, and this relationship was totally on his terms (which I was perfectly willing to comply with to a certain extent). I have control issues, as does he and it is an explosive situation when two hard-headed, driven people who are scared to death come together. Frankly, even though he's a macho-military-prison-guard-ass-kicker i think he's more afraid than I'll ever be. His loss. There will be others. (let us have a moment of silence and reflect for just a tad on the loss of the super-genius-macho-military-prison-guard-ass-kicker...I learned a lot about what makes me tick from that one)

That's not to say that the other guys I dumped the LAST time I switched to on again with PAGuy were incredibly significant. I'm more embarrassed at the whole debacle, and pretty comfortable with the fact that it wasn't meant to be. I can see BaltimoreGuy laughing his ass off, Dancing Guy already is laughing (he IM'd me), and, well, Tommy, I'm just going to stay away from him. And if Andrew messages me one more time I might just meet him-- so I can show him what snippy is face to face.

Otherwise, do I really give a flying leap? Do I really need external validation so badly? It is too much freakin' work. I'm going to find a hobby that combines my need for socializing and my need to fill every other weekend. Maybe a PT job somewhere which will also feed my EBay addiction. I really don't need the validation that badly.

I have enough to do with Karateboy and his blowing spitballs on the ceiling at school exploits, and convincing Tippytornado that sleeping in his own bed is a good thing.

And another day begins, beige bras and oatmea (Kashi Go Lean Crunch, actually).

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Beige Bras and Oatmeal II

You remember my post from last year by this title?

I'm back in the same mental place, where I hope the rhythm of a safe, secure daily life with the kids drowns out the noise in my head about romance and finding a member of the opposite sex to spend time with.

There is a line from Moulin Rouge that rings in my head, "Thank you for curing me of my silly notions about love." Of course, then he pays the courtesan for services rendered. I feel like stamping that quote into a delicately made card and mailing it off.....

So beige bras and oatmeal today for me is about finding the sacred middle ground and the pure joy in the life that I've built--- which isn't bad at all. The need to reach higher toward some next goal is stupid at this point. I need to find happiness exactly where I am, and not doing anything to find it sounds ridiculous, but it is what is supposed to happen. After all life is what happens while you're making other plans, right?

So, this quote Buck Nekkid shared with me is resonating for me today and I don't know why. On different days it says different things to me even though the words are the same.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

(It was written by Marianne Williamson, and Nelson Mandela used it in a speech)

Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? My answer? I'm just doing my best to be a child of God, trying to quiet my heart so I can hear HIM. But right now his voice is faint and I think I need to be hit with a sledge hammer.

My glass is not only half full, it overflows. I need to change my attitude to reflect that.

Monday, January 15, 2007

My Favorite Things

As I was finally diving into the box of chocolates that STBX bought me for Christmas (yes, he has some very nice bones in his body), I was thinking about how that simple box has one of my favorite things. I wonder how many fights he could have ended with an $8 box of chocolate. We will never know.

I remember the first time I ate a rum butter chocolate from the Hershey's Pot of Gold collection. I was in my early 20's and I know I was looking at my father. I know I'd made an orgasm-like sound and said it was better than sex. I will never forget the look on my father's face-- I know I was married by then, but surely, no father-- not even mine-- ever wants to hear THAT!

I also love Reese's Peanut Butter cups (yes, I'm from PA, so I'm partial to Hershey's). I eat mine around the edges first. You know, the corners? The thickest part? eat that first, leaving a peanut buttery center, and you peel the chocolate off the top and then pop the rest in your mouth. My friend (who cannot think of a reference name for himself, so we'll use Buck Nekkid until he comes up with something) laughed at me eating a peanut butter cup in his cube last week.

So, on this favorites track I added it to my blog layout. That's not to say they're the only favorite things I have in the world, just a few of the things I feel like sharing. I mean my mother reads this, and there are some things I'd rather not explain to her.

I must say, "OOOH! I love it!" or "It's my favorite!" about 10,000 times a day-- I only wish "don't stop" made an appearance more often :-).

So pretty much, I love just about everything-- well except the things I can't stand. Like cigarette smoke. And black licorice. And sometimes coconut.

My go to snack items are pretzels, cheese, grapes and peanut butter coated graham crackers.

But Hershey's chocolate products definitely make the world a better place-- especially in place of "don't stop". Thank you Uncle Milty!

Saturday, January 13, 2007


I attribute my year(s) to date weight loss to an increase in fiber and a decrease in sugar. Long story about how I came to that decision, but for my future MILF's, here is my strategy:

  • Kashi Go Lean products for breakfast tend to do it- protein and fiber keep me satisfied in the morning and I don't eat like a maniac the rest of the day.
  • eat a satisfying lunch --- really eat something with protein and low sugar, but just one lean cuisine usually doesn't do it...add in a Go Lean bar or something-- the less hungry I am at dinner the happier we are
  • Did you know that your ability to taste food decreases 50% by the second bite? So savor that first one-- especially of sinful things. And measure the Return on Investment (taste) for that second spoonful....am I enjoying getting to the bottom of the pint of Ben and Jerry's as much as I think I am? Or is one spoonful enough...perhaps every hour?
  • listen to your body....mama maven said it but it is SOOO TRUE! Eat when you're hungry and when you need chocolate have it.
  • You do not HAVE to clear your plate! 30 years of habit. Eating whatever was put in front of me because THAT'S WHAT YOU DO! Don't eat large quantities of something you're not thoroughly enjoying. Life is too short to waste precious calories.
  • WATER! WATER! WATER! WATER! WATER! If you actually feel thirsty, you're already dehydrated. WATER! WATER!WATER!

If it is Mama Maven's hash brown-cheesy casserole thingy....every consecutive bite is as good as the last, so I throw myself under the bus for that. Or a big, fat juicy steak. Or cheese. With Wine. Other than a few choice items, everything else is in just enough quantities to satisfy.

Friday, January 12, 2007

Foulest Language EVER!

F&*^! SH#$&!

Tippytornado does not do well when visiting STBX. For this weekend, I tried to pack all of both kid's favorite things so they would be busy.

Trying to appease Tippytornado, I drove BACK home after dropping Karateboy off at school to retrieve a Thomas the Tank Engine video and a laptop to play it on. Because every 3 year old needs his own Dell.

As I was rushing out of the house, I nearly dropped the Dell, and in process broke the Thomas DVD. Shredded. Two honkin' pieces right down the middle of the very useful engine's head.

F$*k! SH#$&! It is 7:45 am. How am I going to HIDE THIS! CRAAAAP!

Call STBX, who is unemployed at the moment and might take a trip to Toys R Us for me. Nope, no money. CRAAAAP!

"Mommy, can I hold my Deee Veee Deeee?"
"No, mommy um put it in the laptop. You can have it at Daddy's"


Drop Tippy off, run to Toys R Us. They don't open until 10. He's at that age where he WILL remember the video and throw a shit fit when he doesn't get it. I don't always spoil the children, but GOD they have got to behave this weekend. I'm getting tired of being blamed for it.

Off to Target. Where the F*&^! is THOMAS!

Finally, but of course, they don't have the same video, so I struggle to remember what we DO HAVE because one Thomas video is exactly the same as the next to me, except the one where JAMES gets stung on the nose by a bee. I love that one.

Back to my freaking 8 AM Target trip.

So, I settle on one Thomas video I'm pretty sure we don't have, and a Ghostbusters box set because I MUST introduce the Staypuft Marshmallow Man to the children. Not to mention the fact that I still laugh heartily at, " I am the gatekeeper, are you the key master?"

Freakin' Thomas. Another $10 down the tubes. FU$K!

Oh and my weigh in 'cause I wanna be a MILF (which was actually my secret driver all along, not to have my kids embarrassed by my appearance)

YTD Weight Loss 1.5 pounds
Goal 20 pounds or at least a size in the single digits
How I'm gonna get there lots of FIBER, little sugar, lots of exercise -- I want to run the IRON Girl Triathlon in August -- well cycle-- someone else will run and another will swim.

How'd I do this week? Made it to cycling class 3 times, one Lean Cuisine lunch, but I broke down last night and pigged out on wine, cheese and Triscuits (low fat) at about 10PM. So a good week, all in all.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Booger Balloons

Lord, give me strength.

Today was a day whose absurdity cannot be measured. For a thousand reasons that cannot be shared the weirdest stuff has been happening.

What I can share are the adventures of Karateboy. It was not enough to get multiple calls from his teacher today for infractions that range from shooting spitballs on the ceiling in the boys' bathroom to pushing a class mate to showing no remorse when he received detention in the principals office.

The evening at home began with a series of smart aleck remarks that resulted in 3 sets of 10 push ups. During dinner, getting him to sit still meant taking away dessert. Then it came.

At some point he picked up a teeny purple balloon. He placed it over the opening in his right nostril and proceeded to inflate it. We'd seen this before, and thrown away said balloon several times.

Given this is cold/allergy season, and we've all got drippy noses, you would not be surprised to learn what was inside the balloon besides air. Yes, Internet, you guessed it. Oooey gooey boogers.

As if the mere presence of boogers in the balloon is not enough to frankly laugh your ass off, the trail of slime that formed as he removed said balloon from his nose was grosser than gross.

Since I was in disciplinary mode, I grabbed for the booger balloon, squeezing out it's contents like a rocket all over Karateboy's shirt and face. Keeping my 'stern' face in place was impossible.

He caught me. I tried to stifle the laughter, but I couldn't. There was exploded snot everywhere, and there was nothing we could do about it. Except laugh.

"I can see you're laughing, Mom"

"No mm not!"

"Yeeeeess you aaarrrre"

In the meantime, Tippytornado grabbed the balloon and put it to his mouth. I prefer to think he blew into the balloon and there was no sucking of any of the contents. YUM - O!

Such is life with little boys.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

V Day

(spell check does not seem to be working on blogger today...sorry you get me RAW!)

Whew! Made it through the holidays. There is nothing more dissapointing than being unhappy in a relationship or half in a relationship at Christmas and for the New Year. Sappy diamond commercials aside, it is blaringly clear that everyone around you is enveloped in some kind of mystical happiness drug-- and you're literally left in the cold. You focus on other things, cope, move on, etc.....but deep inside you wonder," would I be different if there were someone to lock lips with under the mistletoe?"

So as I happily put hte last of my Christmas decorations in the attic, and STBX was telling me very little about the girl who called him that he recently had dinner with, I started to think about Valentine's Day.

Hopeless romantic that I am, I've always had very silly and impractical ideas about V Day. 2nd only to my silly and impractical ideas about New Years Eve, I'd like to think that all the books and movies tell the truth. A man is literally to sweep you off your feet on that particular day, and remind you of why you don't complain so much when you have to put the seat down yourself. You, in turn, appreciate him for mastery of tools and taking out the trash.

In my first marriage, my innate practicality probably paralyzed STBX from doing any sweeping. Either he was out of work, or money was tight or there was a baby on the way. He's never been the type for deep/meaningful/handmade. The glory of his gift giving was actually buying something and usually at hte last minute. When he finally got around to expensive/impressive things or managed to give them on time, I was bitter that I was really paying for them and what I really wanted was for him to clean a toilet or take the kids out of the house so I could clean a toilet.

But, that is in the past, and I want to learn to be different and appreciate differently. A good work friend asked what my plans were for February 14th. Quite honestly, I glanced at my Blackberry and mumbled that I had an appointment with the gynecologist at noon. He meant, apparently, plans with PAGuy.

Given the recent on again (hopefully for good) status of our relationship, frankly I hadn't thought of it, and would be DEATHLY afraid to mention it for fear of putting pressure where none is due. My ME filter is so tuned up with this kind of thing, I'm paralyzed just thinking about it.

I thought for a few days about what kind if gift I'd like to give him, but I'm just so used to putting money where my feelings are. First, I have no money. Secondly, with this guy, I think he'd really appreciate something meaningful over costly. So what to do?

Ms Shockley to the rescue! My friend's mother says that V Day is for men to spoil women. Period. A quote for that day in the official 'Don James Calendar - The Tristan Adventure Edition' says,

"Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get, it's what your are expected to give-- which is everything." Anonymous"

(great-- no one wanted to admit to saying it for fear of having to defend it)

I think I'm going to take the track that it is a Hallmark Holiday, and that I should be showing the people I love the most my love for them every day. I might pen a sweet little note or something, but I will not give in to the draw of the card store. I might make my own card, but I will resist the temptation of retail therapy.

Giving someone your time and effort are pretty precious gifts. So I agree with Anonymous. I think that's all I want. I don't think that's a silly romantic notion. I'm giving weekends and a 200 mile drive both ways. Time and effort, considering my disdain for driving.

But for a 6'6" present to appear on my doorstep would be the most impossible, wonderful, unbelievable, romantic, unexpected surprise of all. It's never gonna happen, but I think I just wouldn't be me if I didn't have my little romantic fantasy world.

Monday, January 08, 2007


I choose to just date one person.

So, I broke off all conversations, deleted all phone numbers/e-mail addresses and profiles, and happily try NOT to log into messenger.

That doesn't stop them from texting me on my phone.

One such gentlemen, whom I've never met, offended me in early December. Then tried to get back in my good graces, and as our conversations took off again, he disappeared. I'm guessing he had another girl.

Then, magically, as all the PAGuy stuff sort of explodes, this guy crawls out of the woodwork, leaving me messages without leaving a NAME. I'm still not even sure if I've got the right guy.

But he's relentless about wanting to take me out. Odd voice mails about how I got 'snippy' and how he'd drive here to meet me. Even if I was desperate, I don't think I'd go out with him at this point. Dude, back off. I told you I'm seeing someone exclusively.

Then there's that guy that liked me, then I liked him, then he blew me off, and we pretty much spend our conversations fighting with each other. I tried to hand him off to a friend. He was offended by her feet (which makes you wonder why he'd want me with all the odd foot shape stuff I've got going on). I won't return calls, I told him about PAGuy, I deleted all his info, but he doesn't get it. He actually asked me yesterday if we could meet for sex (of course, in his own special way, he asked something like, 'can I break your back just once before you see that d*&! again) this week before I settle for PAGuy. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

He's never met me, I'm probably too fat for him and HE HAD HIS CHANCE AND BLEW IT!

Thank you GOD for putting decent people in my path, and roadblocks in front of the dumbasses.

This week's theme, which I was a little put off by at first, but rings very, very true-- Men and women can't be friends-- for me, that means only one guy (other than the boys) in my 'A' circle.

Sunday, January 07, 2007

Me and a Gun

Some of you may remember the glee I experienced at the notion that my sister (the avid huntress) would let me fire her gun. Odd for me, given my previous aversion to any kind of fire arms. Perhaps I was afraid that I might actually use it.

Not so much any more.

So at Thanksgiving we talked about target shooting, but never really ever fired a gun.

Then this weekend, my Uncle Ron told me how he and Uncle Robert play paintball in Uncle Robert's back yard.

"How old are you two again?" I ask.
"You're only as old as you feel." he responded. He's got to be forty something, because he's younger than my mother and I know at least 10 years older than me.

So after I finished my fits of giggles at the thought of Uncle Ron shimmying up a tree to catch Uncle Robert unaware, grumbling to himself....I asked if I could try it out.

I've never much liked hunting, but the idea of competition where you get dirty--- now that struck a cord! Guerilla style in the woods of PA....yeah, that sounds fun.

So he took me out back to fire his paintball gun, my first such experience with anything like it. My mother made fun of me when my first few shots missed the trash can. But boy, after I got everything lined up, I was AWESOME.

Of course my mother (who hunted herself and even owns her own gun) didn't stop picking on me until she missed her first shot, too (neener neener neener! you're no better than mee--eee!).

Then the boys got to try.

Karateboy, in all his investigative splendor HAD to go find a paintball that hadn't exploded, and proceeded to squeeze it until he wore bright orange paint everywhere, even in his mouth. Of course, he wanted to analyze it under the microscope that came in the 'Smithsonian Crime Lab Investigation Kit' my hetero sister gave him for Christmas. Points for the sister for buying my kids anything with Smithsonian in the name.

The perfect purchase (we later found it was ACTUALLY from gay sister, but they played switcheroo when gay sister was out of town and hetero sister found herself presentless) for him was a self contained box of all sorts of little tools and potions to help him sole the 'mystewy'.

He announced it proudly as the best gift ever and wants me to refill the fake blood with food coloring. I think he has a future in science. I think next weekend, I'm going to set up a crime scene, maybe using TippyTornado to give him some new clues to solve.

This is so much fun! I'm growing NERDS just like me!!! YIPEE!

Friday, January 05, 2007

The Checkup

This morning, I added a whole new friend to my circle. Mr. Jeff is a counselor. I made the appointment with Mr. Jeff next two weeks ago when I couldn't figure out what the hell I wanted to do next. I figured an objective third party would relieve my inner circle of some of their Esmerelda management stress. (Blessings to you all for your contributions, but you need a break. Seriously, go have a margarita)

(No, STBX, I'm not seeing a counselor because I'm broken or crazy, DESPITE your assertions. But if knowing I'm seeing a shrink makes you feel better in some way, go for it)

I AM recognizing a period of significant change in my life that has been building for the last few years, has crested, and is now sorting itself out.

Mr. Jeff didn't lose any of his hair during our conversation and even complimented me considerably on my cheery outlook and willingness to recognize/tackle the toughest issues. We agreed to meet about once a month for a sort of course correction/temperature check. Am I taking steps toward my goals? Am I going off the deep end? Am I sufficiently finding and hugging the middle ground? Have I learned anything about allowing myself to be nurtured?

He LOVED my private journaling. He LOVED my idea about being specific about my communications filter, and encouraged me to write down it's boundaries and put it in a spreadsheet if that brought me comfort. I did stop short of a scoring system, because this is not a race but a journey.

Yes, yesterday I said I was going to become more private. My filter is engaged, just because I'm telling you I saw someone doesn't mean I'm going to give you the details.

So, the blog might get boring. Won't that be fantastic?!

Thursday, January 04, 2007

Potty Training-- It's Just for Me

Part of this trip of 'finding me' is making lists of things I never want to do again, things I want to do again, things that make me happy, etc.

I started this blog because I had to GET THINGS OUT! I needed to tell my tight knit circle of friends what was going on because keeping it all inside was killing me, or the yucky stuff would blurt out at the most inappropriate times. This is not good, so it must change.

Let's call it verbal potty training.

I think some of the things I've posted in this blog about other people violated their privacy. I think, sometimes, I take the notion of the witty verbal smack down or sexual innuendo and I deeply hurt those closest to me -- OK, maybe often. I can't expect them to keep reminding themselves that I only have the best intentions. When it hurts it hurts, and it hurts me to be the hurter....you know? And you can see what I put in writing, imagine what flows out of my mouth, especially after wine or tequilla!!!!

So, I've used this as a forum to share kid stories, funny stuff from life, complain about the X and fluff my fragile little ego. I'd hoped some day to document the exciting details of my dating life.

I think some of that needs to change. That's not to say that I don't need to express those things. Just maybe not to every person I meet at work, at the Giant, at church and on the Internet. I think I need to take the privacy of the people I care about seriously. So, I'm going to practice. And make lists. And my dating life was exciting if you were 15, but many of you are waaay past 25 and rolled your eyes at my stupidity. More on that later.

And I'm taking the publicly inappropriate stuff and I'm doing a low tech journal. Sort of as my brainstorm pad for what I publish. I'll brainstorm, let it rest, clean it up, and post.

Verbal potty training--- just say a prayer ya'll 'cause if I can change this, I can change anything.

On the dating stuff? Oh, funny, funny, funny. I'm actually thinking of putting some of it in the printed form of an advice book. But I met some really nice guys, that now I'm trying to fix up with my very nice girl friends. I hope it all works out for them. (Lauren!Lauren!Lauren!)

OOOPs! See, the privacy thing!

And PAGuy? The most private of all. He isn't online {gasp!} which is one of the 1000 reasons I'm intrigued by him. If this is right, I'm not gonna screw it up with a lesson I should have already learned.

Yep, there is a list involved here, too. Actually TWO, one for reasons I like him, and two for things I never want to kill a relationship with again.

So, weigh in (comment) with your best 2nd chance relationship 'starting over' advice....maybe I'll add it to the list in my low tech journal. Maybe I'll share it here, because we all could use a little reminder right? What things are you never gonna do {again?}?

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

This year VS last year

Last year was a year of sickness and struggle. We had strep, Anthony had his tonsils out, we had a gall bladder thing and subsequent surgery, took my marriage off life support, and STBMX moved out...so it was a year of cleaning house physically, spiritually, all around!

This year, I'm going to finish Madame Bovary. This year, the boys and I are going camping. This year, I'm going to find me. Right where I left me. And not looking through someone else's eyes.

This year, I'm going to find the middle.

So, I was singing this Nichole Nordeman song, 'Brave'. The words have sustained me for the last 5 months. The words have helped me move forward. But I didn't really 'get' the first verse until today:

The gate is wide
The road is paved in moderation
The crowd is kind and quick to pull you in
Welcome to the middle ground
You're safe and sound and
Until now it's where I've been

I've been bouncing around between extremes. GMAN told me I have a split personality. Yep. You're all surprised, I know, but the see-saw you've been seeing here. Like my musical tastes. Nichole Nordeman is Christian music. She's right in my IPOD next to Nickelback and Disturbed....see what I mean by extremes?

But really, I'm going to find the middle ground, the moderation. Here are the rest of the lyrics for your viewing and pondering pleasure. Of course the gist of the song is that she's moved on from the middle. Perhaps that will happen for me, but locating the middle is key.

The gate is wide
The road is paved in moderation
The crowd is kind and quick to pull you in
Welcome to the middle ground
You're safe and sound and
Until now it's where I've been'

Cause it's been fear that ties me down to everything
But it's been love, Your love, that cuts the strings

So long status quo
I think I just let go
You make me want to be brave
The way it always was
Is no longer good enough
You make me want to be brave
Brave, brave

I am small
And I speak when I'm spoken to
But I am willing to risk it all
I say Your name
Just Your name and I'm ready to jump
Even ready to fall...
Why did I take this vow of compromise?
Why did I try to keep it all inside?

So long status quo
I think I just let go
You make me want to be brave
The way it always was
Is no longer good enough
You make me want to be brave
Brave, brave

I've never known a fire that didn't begin with a flame
Every storm will start with just a drop of rain
But if you believe in me
That changes everything

So long, I'm gone
So long status quo
I think I just let go
You make me want to be brave
I wanna be brave
The way it always was
Is no longer good enough
You make me want to be brave
Brave, brave

May your eyes be open to the possibilities and your cup not only be half full but spill over with good things--- often!

Monday, January 01, 2007

The last 24 hours....

(kinda like 24, but without all the bombs and drama)

Sunday, 12/31 1PM
GMAN (with the maven in the background): Are you coming over?
ME: Do I have to decide right now?
GMAN: Well, uh, yes.
ME: Can I take a nap first and finish some things here.
GMAN: Come over any time!

I dose off to sleep, only to be awakened by a credit card collection computer who is calling for my soon to be X.....UGH!

1:35 PM

I lay on the couch and ponder the exact amount of energy to muster to get to their house. I mean I could lay on their couch, right? I could take a blanket and slippers and my knitting and sit on their couch, and maybe laugh every few minutes, right?

But what if a handsome suitor surprises me and arrives on my front step un-announced? And I'm at they're house? That would totally blow my midnight kiss fantasy.

1:36 PM
Screw the midnight kiss fantasy. I'm gettin' loaded.

Slippers, knitting, blankets and cream cheese in hand, I load up the van and wish the neighbors happy happy. We compare how New Year's these days isn't a whole lot different from college.

Run back in house for Chapelle DVD, cause if I can't kiss, at least I'll laugh.

Eligible and handsome bachelor A calls, aka PAGuy. Didn't I tell him two weeks ago, I couldn't do this with him? I'm in MD, he's in PA, and no one is moving any time soon. We agree to talk later.

Arrive at GMAN and Maven's. Get in bed with Maven. Proceed to order GMAN around fetching my knitting and a blanket and pillows. We knit and gab whilst he vacuums. All is well with the world.

Wine, laughing, knitting, children dancing, hearts are singing...you get the picture. There was much joy in the house!

Called PAGuy. Trying to be casual, like I haven't been counting the seconds since we last spoke and trying to figure out the exact appropriate time to wait between calls. His voice mail gives another number (guess he's not seeing anyone else, huh? and he's anti-cell phone) so I call there. It's his friends J & J, who are pretty much to him what GMAN and Maven are to me. The requisite stable couple who encourages and supports. Great people. GMAN is even going to send J a patch just 'cause I asked him to.

PAGUY: We have to talk.
Me: Sure, we're having wine and gonna watch Chapelle and were....
PAGUY: We need to talk about our future.
(stunned silence)
Me: We have a future?
PAGUY: That's what we have to talk about, but I can't hear you so call me tomorrow.

Here comes the drama.

Every half hour I pondered how quickly I could sober up and drive 200 miles to find out what he's talking about. Maven kept pleading, "STOP OBSESSING"

That's like asking the Marlboro man not to chain smoke and hang up his horse. I obsess, therefore I am.

GMAN tried to make me laugh by imitating me showing up on the doorstep with a crazy look on my face.

11:59PM No one to kiss, I said my goodbyes and took my junk home.

12:21AM Not even my IM friends sent me love. Bummer. Off to bed. Crawling under the newly borrowed down comforter for warmth and a fabulous night's sleep.

Call PAGUY. No Answer. Call friends' house. No answer. Hang up phone before you piss everyone off you stupid freakin' stalker.

8AM 1/1/07
Too early to call PAGUY. Must start dinner for the GMAN and Maven. Pork and sauerkraut. Read books, prepare crock pot. Shower for Bonnie's famous New Year's Day open house.

Could it still be too early?

Screw early, I can't make it another 12 hours.

We talk, we agree, mutual admiration fest ensues. Lots of witty banter and a-sexual commentary. I promise to dress like Princess Leia....yadda yadda yadda

Arrive, much to the Maven's surprise, to take her and the girls to Bonnies.

Introduce the concept of Green Acres to Princess Drama Queen-- because every kid should appreciate the convenience and nuances of syndication.

Arrive at Bonnie's smiling. Admire her incredibly modern, yet homey whimsical touches. Sort of like that house in Betelgeuse, but really really nice to visit. and no freaky stuff. Cool collection of menorah's. Took a lox and bagel lessen from Gordon, her husband.

OOOH what's this on the buffet? Noodles and cheese? No, Mary said, it's mac and cheese. But there's cinnamon on it! Mary tastes it, oooh it's sweet! OOH I chime sweet mac and cheese with cinnamon.

1:05PM Someone corrects us crazy, second class gentiles, that what we're eating is some sort of Jewish thing that starts with a 'k' and I can't remember. But it's good. And we don't care that we look stupid.

Decide that lox and bagels are OK, but we're really just there for the mimosas.

1:35PM The Maven's looking a little tired, so we round up the children, give our love and leave.

2PM Arrive at my house with Maven's girls in tow, giving Maven a break.

Now for a happy, happy, nap.

Happy New Year!