sueeeus

Oh dang.

SMOKIN’ HOT new guy at work; young buck on loan for a few months from Ireland.  Probably in his twenties or maybe early thirties.

S – M – O – K – I – N ‘   H – O – T

My. Oh. My.

Cougar on the prowl.

I’ve been on vacation all week, and it’s been fantastic.  I’ve shaken and sobbed for joy to see a long lost brother, and then again to see another brother’s first, last and only baby — a girl who looks so much like him that I can’t help but gaze in wonder and awe.  I’ve been to two states beyond my own, driven hundreds of miles, experienced sunsets, moonrise, glorious days, wildlife, wildflowers, forests, trails, beaches, lake swimming, campfires, and a thunder storm.  I drank one shot of smooth smooth whiskey and had one breath of something illegal and one breath of something legal.  I’ve played softball with the kids.  I’ve had endless cups of incredible coffee and tea.  I’ve washed mountains of dishes and mountains of laundry.  I’ve seen my children exhilarated, covered in dirt from head to toe.  I’ve read a book (Little Bee, very good).  I’ve napped.  I’ve painted.  I’ve worn shorts – the kind that show my legs.  I’ve stayed up until 3 a.m. juggling conversations with a handful of men.

It’s been a very happy week!

I’m not sure about this dating business.  I’m crap at it.  I’m great at having conversations with people, and we have fun, but I’m at a bit of a loss when it comes to sorting out whether or not there’s a connection, how much of a connection there is, how to part kindly, and also how not to be offended if the man ambles off after making contact and saying he’d like to get to know me better.  Blue collar men, white collar men, older men, younger men.  I saw one man a few times over the course of a few weeks, and thought he had potential, but have since rethought that thought.  He’s an executive and has his act together, but is a bit serious or maybe controlling or possibly both.  I told him I wouldn’t see others while I was getting to know him, out of respect for the getting to know him phase, but I think I’ve gotten to know him enough to know there’s no long term magic.  And I’m conversing with others and planning to meet one or more soon.  So I’ll have to tell him.  I don’t like that part.  There’s another man who I conversed with a bit before I got together with Skills, and he’s resurfaced which I find interesting.  It’s almost like running into an old acquaintance or a long lost friend.  He’s an Irishman, and I’m a total sucker for an Irishman.  I need to be a bit vigilant there!

Sigh.  I’m learning that people are people, and the men seem to think there’s more of a connection than I do.  How does one smile and say, “Honey, you’re a fine man, and I hope you meet a fine woman, but I don’t think we’re a good fit.”  I can say that.  And I can get along with almost anybody.  But I don’t want to force any issues.  I want it to be easy, and I want to feel magic, not just, I’m nice, you’re nice, let’s try this out.

I think that I want all or nothing.  And that’s a tall order to fill.  At least the all part.  Nothing is easy as pie.

Where oh where are those four agreements when I need them?  Specifically, the one about not taking things personally.  I think I have a natural inclination to be impeccable with my word and to do my best, but when it comes to making assumptions and taking things personally, I stumble.  And stumble quickly.

I can only be accountable for my own feelings, and how I feel is a choice, so truly, I should never (or seldom) allow myself to feel hurt.  I need much more practice!  Or a frontal lobotomy.

I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised or caught off guard when I am misunderstood.  Another person’s reception has much to do with their own reality and perceptions and predispositions, so it’s up to them to sort our their own agreements.  Yes, I can strive to be clear, but apart from that, what can I do?

Am I confused?  Of course!  Who isn’t?  Does anybody have all the answers in life?

I try very hard to do no harm, and I apply that philosophy to all living things.  I try, anyway.  My choices sometimes confound others.  I don’t have any desire to be vindictive or spiteful.  I won’t take advantage of some one or some thing, just because I can.

I seek harmony.  I seek peace.

At some point, I suppose I should learn how to better protect myself.  I’m not ready for a frontal lobotomy.  So I’ll just regroup, over and over and over again.  I know my intentions are innocent.  And that’s the extent of my responsibility.

Me.  What comes from me.  Therein is my accountability.

~*~*~*~

lizard tongues

Lizard Tongues!  I absolutely adore BB’s imagination!  He presented them to me on a tray.  Look!  Lizard tongues!  And he picked one up and blew the end to make it extend.  Priceless.

~*~*~*~

hearty bliss

It takes nearly an hour, but I am IN LOVE with steel cut oats!  The secret to their divinity is toasting them first in butter, then cooking them slowly in 1 part milk and 3 parts water to 1 part oats (and a dash of salt).  OMG.  Chop up some dried apricots and cranberries and it’s pure, hearty bliss.

phoenix rising

I don’t know what the future holds.  I want happily ever after, like anybody else does.  If I could have a made-to-order life companion, I could throw out a list of attributes that would be welcome — tall, brown hair, blue eyes, smart, competent, confident, enthusiastic, kind, compassionate, responsible, witty, gentle, strong, mature, educated, thoughtful, playful, sensitive, wise, elegant, savvy, honest, healthy, trustworthy, fun, dependable, interesting, passionate, alive, affectionate, communicative, understanding, patient, excellent.

If.

I don’t even know if I could live with a man again.  I haven’t lived well with the men I shared space with for the past fifteen years.  It’s hard to picture the possibilities.  In a perfect world, with a perfect me, I would be able to live with someone, happily ever after.  I would be able to go to sleep and wake up by his side, and move around in harmony in the space we share.  In a perfect world.

I can’t bring someone into our family fold unless I know beyond all doubt that he is fine and upstanding and will love and honor my children and be a positive influence in their lives.

Meanwhile, I am healing.  I am coming back.  I am re-emerging.  I feel it, and it thrills me.  I am beginning to feel more complete, more beautiful.  I can and will be just fine on my own.  My heart is open.

I’m still susceptible to the jabs* of those who choose to be unkind.  Even so, I am surrounded by so much love, and it quickly assuages any fiery darts that are thrown my way.  My friends and family are so very dear to me, and I am absolutely rich in the love and kindness that we share with each other.

*This photo started a FaceBook flame, but so many fantastic people jumped in with nothing but kindness and support.

adorned

Today I honored myself.

I bought some pretty things to adorn myself.  Pretty things to celebrate me.  Pretty things to make me feel more pretty.  This year I’ve lost 38 lbs, without dieting and without trying.  I think the hot mama in me is re-emerging.  She’s been buried for a very long time.  She’s coming back, because I’m coming back.  I’m finding myself again, rising from the rubble of the past fifteen or twenty years.

Today I had a migraine.  Today I took vicodin.  Today I had a massage.  Today I shopped.  Today I walked.  Today I had ice cream.  Today I walked through a mall with no anxiety.  Today I had the worst Thai food ever.  Today I told my kids I love them.  Today I dreamed.  Today I smiled.  Today I laughed.  Today blue eyes looked into brown eyes.  Today I talked to people I love.  Today I remembered people I lost.  Today I shared precious memories.  Today I learned new things.  Today I embraced.  Today I kissed.  Today I listened.  Today I talked.  Today I heard music.  Today I danced.  Today I stretched.  Today I did yoga.  Today I sang my heart out.  Today I cried my eyes out.

Today I realized that everything is going to be okay.  Today I am ready to let go.  Today I let go.  Today I am at peace.  Today I am ready to rest.

Today was a very good day.

tooth

BB lost another tooth yesterday.  He’s seems to be good at losing teeth on memorable days.  He lost his first tooth on his fifth birthday.  And now, his third tooth came out on Independence Day.  Lucky for the tooth fairy, the fireworks and general mayhem were sufficient excuse to postpone for another day the ritual of leaving the tooth under the pillow in the hopes that the tooth fairy would visit.

We didn’t have a proper tooth fairy pillow or pouch, and I had a day off from work, so it was a good opportunity for a family project!

inspiration waiting to burst forth

I have plenty of scraps on hand, and of course the services of a very capable and prolific artist at my beck and call.

monster

He kept telling me it wasn’t going to work, as he watched me cut pieces out.  He needs to work on his visionary skills.

tooth fairy monster pillow

Now that I compare pictures, I can see that I didn’t get it quite right.  I was originally planning to use the sewing machine, and the body would have turned out more circular, but I ended up changing my mind and using hand stitching, and I see that I forgot to gather the base to give it more of a circular look.  The artist, however, is quite pleased.  The tooth is placed safely in the pouch (on the back side), ready for the tooth fairy to visit.

toothless artist

Look at this wide eyed food faced grubby toothless monster boy!  We must now hope that the tooth fairy has cash on hand so she won’t have to leave an IOU note.

stones

I scheduled a donation truck and left a mountain of things, the remainder of unwanted accumulations from the Gadget years, in front of the garage in the hopes that it would be gone when I returned home.  And so it was!  I can’t even say how delighted I felt, to pull up to my house and see no trace of the mountain.

Finally, my home, all of it, is mine again.  It’s a good feeling.

Closure.

steps

Last night, after a short message transaction, Skills de-friended me on FaceBook.  Apparently keeping the friendship channels open isn’t going to work for him.  I guess it’s understandable.  Regrouping is difficult after being entwined with someone, and it was a lot for me to hope that we could go on with the warmth of friendship.  So he cut all ties.  I wish him the best.

More closure.

It’s okay.

light

And it’s interesting, in the scheme of things, how events transpire.  As though the universe planned it all along.  This day.  This was the prescribed day for closure to happen.

In one sense, closure brings with it a deep sense of decompression, but it’s accompanied with a marked physical reaction.  There is an exhaustion that pulls at my very bones, and I feel as though my body is giving in and collapsing, finally, under the compounded stresses of the past year.  And I think it’s okay.  I think it’s a release that I need to go through.  A cleansing to wash these poisons out of me.  Hopefully forever.

So I’m sipping my echinacea, vitamin C and zinc concoction, bundled up in my jammies and robe, and getting ready to curl up as tight as I can in the safe haven of my pristine new bed, and let what will be, be.

sunset

I am certain the sun will shine brightly, come the dawn, and I will have a deeper sense of peace to anchor me.

lookout

I’m trying to be honest with myself.  It’s so easy to point a finger anywhere but at yourself.  Just because no relationship as yet has ever worked, doesn’t mean that I assign blame to the other party for the ultimate demise thereof.  I know I’m not easy to live with.  I’m strong and independent.  Stubborn.  Set in my ways. And not interested in somebody else dictating how I should be.  And I’m not so arrogant that I don’t acknowledge that the opposite holds true as well.  I have no right or even desire, really, to dictate how another should be.  We are who we are.  We are  how we are.  If there is any change to take place, it’s on an individual basis only, and that is if and only if said individual makes the decision to make some sort of change, to his or her self, for his or her own reasons.

People need to be able to cooperate, in order to live well with one another.   And nobody has a crystal ball.  How can one know if the shoe fits, unless one tries it on?  And what if it feels great at first, but then you develop a blister?  And what if you treat the blister, and keep wearing the shoes, but you develop more blisters, and then you sprain your ankle?  What if you try to stretch that shoe, or stretch your foot, or buy special socks that are just a bit thicker or just a bit thinner, so that you can make that shoe fit?  There comes a point where you have to just take a look at your feet and take a look at those shoes and accept the fact that they just don’t work well together.  It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with the shoes.  It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with your feet.  It just means they don’t fit each other.  So you wistfully set those shoes aside, or give them away in the hopes that they will bless somebody else.  It isn’t failure.  It’s just not a good fit.

I’m not angry with Skills, or even Gadget.  I’m disappointed in the colors that have emerged at various times in this journey, but truly, I don’t and can’t hold it against anybody.  It’s just data.  It’s just another point of information that helps describe that person.  And I can’t be angry with them for not being who I need.  They are who they are.  I am who I am.   We don’t fit.  I’m okay with that.

I can take ownership and apologize for any pain that I inflicted.  I am certain that there is pain.  So I am sorry. Truly, deeply sorry.  And I have to take ownership for the pain that I have experienced, because I am no victim, and I am no martyr.  I am responsible for my own self and my own feelings.  I have, in the past, done discredit to myself by trying to make things fit that simply don’t, can’t and won’t fit.  I thought I was doing the right thing, making every effort to make things work.  But I wasn’t looking at the damage I was doing to myself.  So now I’m trying to look at things in a different light.  To flip the script.  Before, it took me years to stand up and make ways part.  This time, I recognized it much sooner, and took action.  Granted, this time around I have children, so I have to ask myself what is the ultimate impact to them for whatever choices I am making.  And that helps me focus on the bigger picture, which is caring for myself so that I can care for them.

I don’t know what next time will look like, or how long it will last, or what trouble I will make for myself.  I don’t know, absolutely, what I want.  I know some of what I want.  And some of what I don’t want.  I don’t want to be lonely.  But I’ve learned that the loneliness one feels when one is with someone is so much worse than the loneliness that one feels when one is not.  I want someone to talk to, to laugh with, to dine with, to be with.  But not necessarily every day.  And not necessarily to live with.  I don’t know that I know how to live with somebody.  Anybody.

I sure as hell could stand to get laid!  I don’t really mean that, because what I really want is to make love.  Big difference.  In a dreamy ideal world it would happen every day!  But that’s not practical or foreseeable.  I’m serially monogamous and just don’t know how to be casual about that sort of thing.  Too much emotion and stuff between the ears is wrapped up in that, for me.  It’s a good thing that I have woman-kind’s best friend, the most amazing invention of all time –the magic bullet.  And it’s not the mini- food processor of which I speak.  And it’s also not– the– same–.  But if times are tough, it’s there.

I think I’m feeling better.  I don’t feel like the blood in my veins is sludge any more, or at least not today.  I don’t feel like howling or breaking anything.  I don’t feel a deep sorrow.  I don’t feel angry at anyone, or at myself.  I don’t feel frustrated.  I don’t feel wistful.  When I see that I truly accept others for who they are, I am learning that I can just as well accept myself for who I am (indeed, not doing so is hypocritical!).  I don’t need to chastise myself for being who I am.  I am who I am.  And if I don’t like who I am, then I can change myself to become who I want to be.  I have that freedom!  I have that right!  It’s up to me.  I’m the commander of my own ship.

if a picture paints a thousand words

It’s not you, it’s me.  It’s not me, it’s you.  It’s me.  It’s you.  It’s me.  Me, me, me.  Me.

Why did we fail, he wants to know.

Maybe I should go back to Gadget, he suggests.

WTH!

It’s troubling, he says, to see how I used Gadget (to get my babies), and how I used him (as a rebound).  As if it were premeditated.  Sigh.  Oh, how I sigh.  Of course I can say in retrospect that I had an agenda when I married, and that was to have children.  I still went into the relationship with full hope of a bright and fulfilling future.  And I tried to make it work.  Lord, I tried.  But I couldn’t do it, and I sure as hell couldn’t do it alone, so I had to end it.  Likewise, I went headlong into our whirlwind with full hope of a bright and fulfilling future.  I premeditated nothing.  I had no designs.  No agendas.  I just wanted to love and be loved.  To understand and be understood.  I effervesced and thrilled in the beauty of the universe that opened up to me, to us.

The drama began to infiltrate.  I couldn’t make heads or tails of things and blamed it on hormones.  The writing on the wall was there from early on.  If not fully evident, it was written between the lines.

We don’t fit.  For many reasons.  But there was a moment where we did, and that moment was treasure for me.

Am I a user?

If that is how it played out, then that is how it is.

Premeditated?  No.  But guilty, as charged.

...my future's so bright I have to wear shades... ...see how I sparkle!

I’m in a slump!  I’m always tired and feel like the blood in my veins is more like sludge.  I have no energy.  No inspiration.  Nothing.  Zip.  Zilch.  Nada.

Gah!

It doesn’t help much that I sprained my hip.  I have good meds so I am ambulatory, and it’s feeling much better, thank you.

I tidied the boys’ toy room — it’s amazing how they can make any place look like a complete disaster, with almost no effort at all.  They hardly even have any toys remaining, since I’ve confiscated almost everything.  And they STILL manage to spread them out to cover every inch of floor space.  It’s like the way Jesus fed the thousands with only a couple loaves of bread.  That’s what they can do with their toys.  Nothing short of miraculous.  Only it doesn’t do much to benefit humankind.

It’s a cloudy day, but hopefully it will be nice enough to take the boys for a walk, once the little one wakes up from his nap.

I should plan the grocery list for the week, but did I mention that I have no inspiration?

I don’t seem to be following the normal stages of grief and loss.  The first stage is denial.  I’m excellent at that.  But I’ve moved on.  The next stage is fear and anger.  I sort of skipped that stage, I think, and went straight to grief and depression.  But I’m sort of waffling back and forth between depression and anger.  Different thoughts surface now and then, and I find myself irritated, but also thankful, because the mere presence of those thoughts helps cement the reasons for my actions in changing my life path so dramatically.  The final stage is acceptance.  I like to think that I have acceptance, in that I know that moving on was the right thing to do.  However.  Key back to the slump comment.  No energy.  No inspiration.  These are clearly marks of depression.

And I don’t want to be depressed!  I want to be thrilled!  I want to be excited!  I want to laugh!  I want to sparkle!

Gah!

Where’s my fountain of life?!