Rec

Highly, HIGHLY recommend No Country for Old Men. Never has Tommy Lee Jones been this good.

Dark, funny, thought provoking, disturbing. It will keep you riveted.

Certainly one the best films of the year.

Dear Apple,

I knew in my heart of hearts that it really was quite pointless given that my complaint would never actually be met with human eyes, but merely tacked on to a tally of satisfied customers versus disatisfied customers but damn, it felt so good to get off my chest.

Dear Apple,

How disappointing to discover that the ipod's batteries are not replaceable! Good thing I spent 2 years of my life "babying" mine for the sake of longevity. That really paid off when you told me that I would get a "new one with old parts" (aka refurbished). Oh, you did mention however, that I could trade mine in with a whopping 10% discount to get a new one. That's an awesome discount. No, really. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I would get such a present in exchange for my nothing-is-wrong-with-this-except-the-battery-ipod.

I understand that we live in a consumer society and I understand that you exist to make a profit and your whole thought process probably includes "hey, when you come in to get a new battery and we put the screws to you, take a moment to admire the newest models of ipod. They're delicious." But the whole experience left a sour taste in my mouth and the realization that maybe Apple isn't the be all and end all that it claims to be.

Maybe I'm a PC after all.

It wasn't just the fact that I had to get a refurbished ipod to get a new battery. That was just the beginning. What irritated me the most was the refurbished ipod they sent me (after a shipping delay of a week) crapped out after 3 days of use. When I took it in and met with a genius he insisted that I just wasn't trouble-shooting the problem and sent me on my way with a long list of things to do if the problem arose again. Which it did. After one song on my way home from their store. So I made another appointment, met with another genius, and was put on a list to receive yet another refurbished ipod.

Which I have and appears to work ok as of now. For which I should probably be a little more grateful. But I say that now, only after I have hit the send button on my survey.

Dear Mr. President-Elect,

I turned off the news last night at around 11 with the certainty that the U.S. had spoken clearly and loudly for you. Florida had not been declared. The west had not yet released their numbers. But Ohio had declared you victorious. And I knew, in my heart of hearts, that we had reclaimed our country.

I think this has been an emotional election for so many. The African American community who never thought they would see the day and have woken up and realized it is possible. Anything is possible. For people my age, who have shrugged off scare tactics of the past; who want to usher in an age of unity rather than remain in a country where it is survival of the fittest and richest. We want to see an end to the Iraq war: bring home our brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, husbands and wives so they too, can reclaim the life that they have left waiting in the wings why they fought so hard for the democracy we call the United States. I voted for equality. For same-sex couples to have the same rights as I. Love has no boundaries and everyone deserves the chance to live their happiest life. I voted for the rights of women. For universal healthcare so that we all can be the best and most productive citizens. I voted for a younger voice. A change in scenery. A historical election.

I am happy, honored and blessed to call you my 44th president. Congratulations

10.13.

My anniversary was just as low key as I could have hoped. We slept in, went to our favorite sushi place for lunch, then took a boat ride through winter park, the wealthiest and oldest part of Orlando. I though the point of the boat ride was to look at the beautiful scenery, foliage and maybe try to spot some interesting wild life but it was more a tour of how the wealthy live: "over here we have a 5 million dollar house that after buying, the owner's wife decided she didn't like so they tore it down and built another 5 million dollar house." And that was just the beginning. There were his and hers boat houses, a property with 4 large guest houses, a 7 car garage because the owner "likes to drive a different car to work everyday."

Mostly, I sat quietly and occasionally whispered to Nathan "I can't imagine." Because, lowly little me can't imagine. I feel incrediably fortunate in this economy to be able to pay my $1200 mortgage. I feel fortunate to have a tiny, tiny townhouse that we can call ours and 2 cars (fully paid off!) that are gaining years and milage but get us from point a to point b. We don't take expensive trips (mostly just day trips around the state) or have expensive items in our house (I can say with great satisfication that nearly everything is Target or World Market) and there is not a moment in my life where I don't think I have enough.

Would it be wonderful to have a guest house for my guests? To be able to attend a $42,000 school? To live in one of the most beautiful parts of the city? To be able to afford a physical trainer or a chef or both? I can say with utmost certainity, yes. But I don't need it, and some times when I think if for some reason we struck it rich, what would we do differently, I can't come up with any good reason to do anything differently.

One woman on the boat made a poignant comment: "these people have more money then sense." And it's true. No one needs 7 cars when some don't have enough money to put food on the table. No one needs a ballroom in their house when people struggle living pay check to pay check. People don't need 8 bathrooms and 21 bedrooms in their house when only 2 people live there. It's silly. And reckless. And down right greedy.

I suppose I have some things they may never have. A happy marriage. A dog that lights up my day and my life. And the realization that money is not everything.

Regina Spektor

I've had this album for about 6 months. It is, now, just beginning to grow on me. Check it out.

#1

God bless his soul, N went along with me to the Maitland Rotary Art Fair today. I saw it advertised on television this week and thought it would be a good way to kill an afternoon and since I know longer have the privilage of attending the Fallsburg Art Fest in Michigan, I thought this would probably be the next best thing.

Unfortunately, it didn't quite have that fall feeling that I adore (temperatures that require heavy sweaters and warm apple cider) but it had it's own charm. And while it's eternal summer here, I am never more grateful than when my friends call me in the dead of winter and are shoveling snow off their cars. That's a feeling you just can't beat.

My big purchase of the day was 7 old Oprah magazines from the library book sale for a whopping $.70. I know i'm a big spender. I also know that this categorizes me as an 80 year old white woman who just can't get enough of that Oprah. My friends remind me. On a daily basis.

In my defense, however, I do subscribe to Rolling Stone as well.

Well, the big 1 year anniversary is coming up. N & I can't decide what gift to give ourselves for putting up with each other for the last 365 days. In a romantic gesture, he suggested we purchase our wedding pictures. I suggested we spend the $600to fix his car or purchase a new computer (since mine is on it's way oooouuuuutttt). He was less than impressed with the romantic thought that went in to those two suggestions. I just say i'm a realist.

Who knows what we'll do to celebrate the day. We both have it off and we've batted around everything from staying in and sleeping all day, to a hike, an art museum and a dinner out to a dinner in and a netflix to follow it up. Also there has been discussion of a star light dinner cruise and an afternoon brunch cruise. Again, I suggested the afternoon brunch cruise to save ourselves $24 and the humiliation of having to dance in front of strangers. Maybe I am a party pooper.

Regardless, I just think there is WAY TOO MUCH PRESSURE to make a big deal of a big day. Isn't it enough to wake up next to one another. To acknowledge the fact that you're both still there despite a year filled with fights, tears, laughter, smiles, trials, tribulations and celebrations. Shouldn't it be enough to say thank you for putting up with me: for loading the dishwasher when I was too tired, for tolerating pms and bad moods, for loving me despite all of my shortcomings (and there are so many). And shouldn't it be enough to follow all of that up with making love?

I hope so. Because that is my idea of a perfect anniversary. As I see it, there is no need to get dressed up (when you see me in blue jeans and messy hair, everyday), serenade me with expensive wine (i drink the cheap stuff at home anyways) and pretend to be people we're not (I don't dance. You don't either). I love you as you are. Just you. Everyday you. Not special occasion you.

Happy Anniversary, baby.

Oh, Justin. Have My Babies.

Good Things September

* itunes V8 Genius Edition. Play a song, click on the genius icon and the program will create a playlist from your library that goes well with the song you were listening to. Genius, indeed. Rediscover your library, afterall, you bought that Nickelback album for a reason.

* Ani Difranco's newest album release, Red Letter Year. Two years in the making. Worth every minute of waiting.

*Live Your Life: TI & Rihanna's take on the unforgettable Numa, Numa. Catchy, fun, totally worthy of the $.99 itunes charges for it.

*A release date set for Dido's new album, Safe Trip Home (Nov 4). I have all of her albums and not once has she disappointed me.

*David Sedaris' new book When Engulfed in Flames. The 15 page story about his next door neighbor Helen is worthy of the $25 it costs for the book. Flawed, funny, stubborn and tragically sad, this is a character I don't think I will ever forget.

*Matisse's new donkey (aka democratic party logo) collar. When I told my mom that I had bought it she asked if I was just inviting attacks. It was then that I knew I had made a smart purchase.

*If you have a flexible schedule, a small amount in the bank account, and high expectations you can't go wrong with Direct Air. A new high class/discount airline. That means you get the leather seats and the trashy neighbor.

*TJ Maxx's Home Goods. You know the really messy "home" part of TJ Maxx? It's JUST like that except A WHOLE STORE. I'm in love.

*The fact that my husband knows all the lyrics to Hips Don't Lie by Shakira. I know I married him for a reason.

Just As Good As Tina Fey

A Comedy of Errors

It was a comedy of errors, really. But instead of chalking it up to beginners luck (or even the fact that I am a beginner), I had the high and unrealistic belief that sewing would come naturally. That I could just, somehow, magically whip up custom designed curtains or make a fabulous dress for a wedding we have to attend at the end of October even though I have never taken a class and don't know the first thing about draping. Or even what exactly a seam allowance is, for that matter. But in the back of mind, unconsciously sitting there and waiting for sabotage, I thought I would be the next contestant on Project Runway.

How quickly my hopes & dreams were dashed when it took me an entire afternoon to put one seam in one pillowcase. Most of the time was spent kicking myself for cutting the fabric incorrectly, unjamming my machine, learning to thread the lower portion of my machine, unjamming my machine again, and then berating myself for my lack of visualization skills that would be SO USEFUL if I had them so I could figure out if the frickin' flap needs to be sewn on the "wrong side" of the fabric or on the "right."

With the lingo of "right" and "wrong" to describe a process that i'm certain has it's very own and very specific lingo I doubt that anytime soon my impression of Tim Gunn will be get air time. In other words, maybe I should stick to drinking (which I did copious amounts of after the disaster extravaganza) rather than sewing and just pay the $20 for 2 pillowcases instead of loosing my mind over the one i'm trying to construct.

It's been 3 days since I tossed my pillowcase aside in a fit of frustration. It's been 3 days since I blamed my bad day on a piece of fabric with bright yellow Canaries on it. And in those 3 days I have contemplated packing up my sewing machine and selling it in the next garage sale. I've also thought about I've never been very good at trying things that I don't naturally excel at (some may argue this is why I don't have very many hobbies). And even after all that thinking my sewing machine still sits on it's table, my fabric remains carefully draped over the back of my chair awaiting my return to it. And even though I haven't worked up the courage to face the project again or the patience for that matter, I find that I eventually want to return to it again. Probably not today. I doubt tomorrow. Or this weekend at all, but sometime soon.

I may not be able to sew a straight stitch yet. I may have an uneven number of pillowcases because I hadn't quite mastered the importance of paying attention when cutting fabric, but I will get there. Eventually. Someday i'll have those custom designed curtains and that dress to wear to a wedding. And I would like to believe that because I want to go back and try again that i'm growing up. Learning through various lessons that a set backs don't neccessarily denote failure. That was never more evident than the other night when after 3 glasses of wine and a hissy fit in front of my husband I calmly went back upstairs and dutifully started pinning the fabric. Determined to make it work this time.

On Writing

I have been itching to get back to writing. I take vacations from writing sometimes and without much consideration and then when I finally return to it wonder why everything in my life feels topsy turvy and carelessly thought through. I have the need to write; it feeds my brain like oxygen and when I supress it for too long the words fall anywhere they may - a napkin, a letter to a friend, a grocery list, a magazine cover turned journal. But all of those things are half-hearted, a temporary fix for the urge. It is when I sit down in front of a computer screen, lay my fingers across the keys and start writing a bit of my life story through the stroke of the space bar and backspace that I really find my groove.

I like having the option to delete whether it be words or memories. Maybe it's the control freak in me, the same person who alphabetizes her bookshelves or can count on her hands the number of times she's listened to her heart without consulting her head first. I used to think that a pen-to-paper journal was the way to go. I thought it was more raw and real and I would look back when I was 80 and care that I had a hot dog for dinner the same day I lost my first tooth. Or that when I was 15 I bought a new shirt the same day my heart was broken for the first time. Don't get me wrong those are the same details that bring any story alive I just want to tell those stories in a way I remember them. I want to make them as pretty or as ugly or as real or as fictionalized as I believe them to be and I can never seem to do that the way I like when it involves frantic scribbles, bored doodles or eraser marks and crossed out words that show an ache to find that perfect word admist the clutter of colorful and half filled journals.

Granted, there is part of me that wishes I could love dirt, grime and disorder. I love paging through the (ironically enough - published) journals of Kirk Cobain or Andy Warhol, or the book of poetry by Ani Difranco scrawled in her own handwriting. That is the same reason I love liner notes to albums. So often, they are scrawled by the artists own hand and I like imagining the words pouring out through a lipstick liner in lieu of a pen on a dirty mirror on a tour bus at 2am. I love the seagull drawing on the edge of the page not because it pertains to the actual lyrics or journal entry or to anything at all but just because they happened to to be at the beach when they wrote it. There is so much lyricism and poetry and beauty that coincides with impulse. And I know no one who wishes less lyricism, poetry and beauty on their lives.

Which brings me back here. It has taken me 3 hours and 42 minutes to write this entry. It has taken 3 episodes of Nip/Tuck, one walk around the neighborhood, 21 tosses of the ball for the dog, and 1 very strong White Russian to get here. I wonder if my desire for control has made my life any less beautiful, but I quickly realize that life today is all about editing. We edit the way we speak to appeal to a certain audience, we edit our phone book to add and delete as we see fit, we edit our lives when the in-laws stay over: pretending we cook, get plenty of exercise, don't subsist on a diet of caffeine and take-out, and that we just adore that ugly vase they bought us that sits in a place of prominence during their stay.

We all edit. But it seems that my editing, my careful consideration of verb or noun, brings me to a more truthful place. This is obviously not the case for everyone, but when I get to take a moment or 3 hours to thoughtfully think through the present, I find that my world stops toppling over itself. I feel more at peace. I have momentarily controlled the uncontrollable.

I may not have sketchings of seagulls or butterflies scribbled on the edges of my journal but I do believe that I have something equally as beautiful: this.

Middle Of The Night

Apparently, when I can't sleep, the internet takes hold and I end up buying art.

Sleep deprivation = significant purchases.

A lesson learned. Wait till daylight hours before hitting the submit button.

Ying/Yang

With death comes life.

I have a new nephew: Zachary Maddox. Born @ 1:05am.

Welcome to the world, little one.

And congratulations to the rest of the family: Howie, Anna & Madeleine.

Dear Cooper,

I still have your puppy picture in a frame. This small ball of fur that barely took up a couch cushion. 8 years later. You quickly graduated to two full cushions and never hesitated to "make yourself comfortable" despite the occasional person that got in your way. You were our lap dog, all 90 pounds of you.

I wish I could have gotten to say goodbye to you. To say I love you one more time before you had to leave. You were, after all, the one who taught me to love as fully as I have. Although you were by all means the family dog, I somehow claimed you as my own. I spent the an entire summer attempting to potty train you. Recruited friends to stay with you when you were a wee one and scared to be alone. I brushed you. Feed You. Let you sneak into my bed late in the night.

You were the first dog to teach me real, unfettered emotion. The time you accidently locked yourself in the bathroom, I remember being frantic. Every time you would somehow escape the fenced in backyard I remember being short of breath. Afraid I would never see that sweet, sweet face ever again. That someone else would claim you as their own. Or worse yet, I would have to whisper my goodbyes amongst asphalt and tire tracks. I was genuinely afraid I would loose you. I had never had that fear before. I finally cared more for something else than for myself. I never felt that before you.

8 years later. There are still marks in the staircase from when you chewed it. The metal cage still resides in the basement, untouched by you. You were never one to put up with being caged. I quietly wonder where the time went. And have to remind myself that time flies when you love something as surely as I loved you.

Thank you for 8 years. Thank you for a lifetime of love & memories, my little friend.

Rest in peace.

Granholm, FEMA Officials To Meet On Disaster Aid

- From Woodtv.com -
July 16, 2008 05:44 AM EDT
LANSING, Mich. (AP) -- Governor Granholm says she'll meet today with federal officials to plan for disaster aid President Bush has approved to aid recovery from June storms.

She and Federal Emergency Management Agency officials will coordinate aid for Allegan, Barry, Eaton, Ingham, Lake, Manistee, Mason, Missaukee, Osceola, Ottawa and Wexford counties.
The Lower Peninsula counties were hit by severe weather that killed at least eight people and blacked out more than 730,000 homes and businesses June 6th to 13th.

Granholm's office says aid can cover "repair, restoration, reconstruction, or replacement" of public facilities damaged or destroyed in the storms.

Copyright 2008 by The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved

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One of our friends from Florida is working on this disaster. N was asked if he wanted to go as well. He declined. Life comes full circle sometimes.

August 28 - September 4

I'll be back to GR (I feel strange calling it home now) on August 28 for one short week.

Friends to catch up with. A new nephew to meet. Relatives to see.

It's gonna be great.

Life Is Good

A long weekend before me stretching out from sunny day to sunny day.

Life is good.

Here's a reminder.

Till Next Time

The in-laws have left and the house is eerily quiet. While I vacuum floors that have accumulated a weeks worth of dog hair, food and filth, I wonder if they were ever here at all. There visit seems oddly surreal. Too long and too short at the same time.

Last night I laid in bed and thought that the next time I would see family would be in December. We've been here for a little over 4 months. It will be another 5 months until we see them again. Too long. Too many miles between us. Part of me wished I could have climbed into the back of their car and escaped back into my old life. But as I hugged them goodbye and waved them off my feet remained planted on the pavers in the driveway under the hot sun surrounded by the dampness of Florida humidity.

This is home now, I remind myself.

We spent a week together. Drove to Tampa. Visited Kennedy Space Center. Read in the evenings. Crosswords at the table. I sewed a pillow under the direction of my more than patient mother-in-law. We ate out. Shopped. Nate and I bought a couch.

It was nice. Just being together. Enjoying each others company. Not rushing from this place to that place. From this theme park to the one over here. We grilled and sat in lawn chairs outside while sipping lemonade.

We all move forward now. Back to our lives. Ours here. They go back to Michigan where they will be busy with a new grandchild and gardening and enjoying the richness of summer.

And till next time, i'll continue to wonder if this really happened. And hang a picture on my wall to assure me that it did. And N and I will go back to our lives. Quiet but very happy lives right here in Florida.

Summer

After Thoughts

I worked 5 1/2 hours today. It felt like 12 1/2. I wonder what is so exhausting about my job. Is it standing on me feet. Plastering a smile to my face. Saying "have a nice day" or asking "how are you" when it's not really genuine. Putting on a facade. That is exhausting. And all of us do it. Day in and day out.

N & I worked on cleaning the garage today. We had bought some shelves to put in there and now all the camping gear, all the coolers, all the christmas decorations, all the paint supplies and all the tools are exactly where they should be. It feels good to make progress like that. It feels good not to have to search through boxes or go on a manhunt just to find where the gift bags are stored. We plan on buying one more set of shelves to store "everything Michigan" including boots, coats, scarves, hats. We have absolutely no need for them down here but I know we'll be back someday in the dead of winter and really need all of those things. Might as well have keep them on hand.

Speaking of winter, I had a customer come in last night. We started a friendly conversation about Michigan and he genuinely asked how we dealt with the snow. "Umm," i said "we dig ourselves out after a heavy snowstorm and hope we don't spin out on the road on the way to work. It's really not life altering." He could hardly believe that. That we our lives didn't end when we got more than 3 inches of snow. I then went on to say that it amused me how people react to rain down here. There's a certain electric excitement that fills the air. People stay in doors. Stay off the roads. Wait until the storm passes rather than venture out into the puddles. I've learned that people who grow up in a 4 season climate have a certain "hardiness" about them. Little fazes them. And they believe everything is manageable. Even driving in white out conditions.

I've been on a book buying spree lately. I've been busy clearing out the book shelves (I have finally learned the importance of getting rid of books that didn't move me/change me/alter my way of seeing the world/or teach me anything significant) and yesterday took a fairly large stack down to the used book store. I got $18 credit and picked up three more titles. I now have 3 shelves of books that have yet to be read. N kindly asked tonight if I could put the book buying on hiatus until I made a larger dent in the stack called "books i'm going to read in the future." I told him that I didn't plan on having children and that I would need something to keep me company when i'm old and grey. He said I shouldn't worry too much and reminded me that I might as well be hording canned food and duct tape for Y2K.

These days, i've been collecting paint swatches just as much as I have been collecting books. I have so many different variations of greens and pinks and aquas that I feel lost in the color whee. Do I prefer Pear over Dried Palm or Aqua Pura over Cool Jazz? I wish I had some insight. It's isolating to decorate a house when it's just you and your mind and you're looking at all these paint colors and slowly but surely becoming overwhelmed with oh my god but what if I choose Minty Fresh over Slight Sea Foam?!!! I need someone to pull me away for a while or help me understand how Pear and Pura Aqua can peacefully co-exist with Silver Drop.

N's really no help. He doesn't see what the big deal is and doesn't understand why I have so many different shades of grey and why I keep taping them to the wall and then standing back and staring at it for 10 minutes. He walks past and just tells me what nice job I did on our last apartment but then reminds me that, uh, no he has no opinion and doesn't care to take the time to form one.

I'm thinking that I'll start with those rooms that i'm sure of. My bathroom for instance. It's small. do-able. And I know exactly what I want. And when that's finished I'll just move on to the next room. It'll get done.

And it will be exactly how I want it. Cause it's my house now. All mine. And to be that settled feels so good.

From CNN

NEW YORK (AP) -- A consumer alert for the millions who have seen the feature film version of "Sex and the City": There is no such book as "Love Letters of Great Men," from which Carrie Bradshaw reads while in bed with her beloved Mr. Big.
The closest text in the real world apparently is "Love Letters From Great Men and Women: From the Eighteenth Century to the Present Day," first released in the 1920s and reissued last year by Kessinger Publishing, which specializes in bringing back old works.
Richard Davies, press manager for AbeBooks.com, an online seller that features used titles, told The Associated Press on Thursday that he has received hundreds of queries about the book's existence.
Enough readers have been directed to the Kessinger anthology, on AbeBooks and elsewhere on the Internet, that it ranked No. 134 on Amazon.com as of Thursday afternoon.
In "Sex and the City," an early scene shows Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) poring through the imaginary collection, although citing real letters by Beethoven and Napoleon among others. Mr. Big (Chris Noth), later takes passages from the book as he expresses his love, by e-mail, to Carrie.

I had seen the film but didn't give it much thought until a customer had come in looking for the book (this was before it was revealed that it wasn't actually a book). I went through the obligatory search and got a listing of only the Kessinger anthology. When I told the customer that perhaps it wasn't an actual book she look disgusted that I would think that anything Sex & the City could be fictional, let alone have the audacity to suggest the same to her. She was angry that I suggested it and maybe even a little bit more angry that she was played a fool. She quickly turned on her heels and said that she would have to "do further research" (implying that maybe I did mine incorrectly) and get back to us.

How much would I like to shove this article in her face right now?

A lot.

Songs I Just Can't Get Off My IPod

Where Do We Go From Here / Alicia Keys / As I Am
Overlap (2007 Version) / Ani Difranco / Canon (Essential Collection)
Flame / Bell X1 / Flock
Stronger / Kanye West / Graduation
Days Go By (radio edit) / Dirty Vegas / Dirty Vegas
A Little Less Conversation (JXL Remix) / Elvis Presley / Elvis: 30 #1 Hits
The Pretender / Foo Fighters / Echos, Silence, Patience & Grace
Who Am I To Say / Hope / Hope's Indie Cd
Hide & Seek / Imogen Heap / Speak For Yourself
4 Minutes (featuring Justin Timberlake & Timberland) / Madonna / Hard Candy
Extreme Ways / Moby / 18
Rewind / Paolo Nutini /These Streets
Glory Box / Portishead / Dummy
Such Great Heights / The Postal Service / Give Up
Number 1 / Goldfrapp / Supernature
Can't Go Back Now / The Weepies / Hideaway
Drifting Away / Faithless / Reverence
Silence (DJ Tiesto's in Search of Sunrise Edit) / Delerium & Sarah McLachlan / The Best of Delerium

$5 Words

N: Is that sound cloying to you?
L: No. What? Cloying? Why'd you just pull that out?
N: D & I at work pull out $5 words during conversations to see who can use the biggest and most impressive words.
L: I see. And you really think that cloying is a $5 word? Who wouldn't know the word cloying?
N: Well. You? Maybe.
L. Uh. Yeah. No. I know the word cloying. I use the word cloying. I taught you the word cloying. It'll take a $20 word to stump me.

Reminder to Self

Here's a lesson we never stop learning: the importance of not taking bad days out on our significant others.

My feet may hurt. I may be dehydrated, tired and hungry. I may have had a smile plastered on my face for the last 9 hours. I may have had to respond "yes ma'am/sir, we can do that" all day long. I may need a glass of wine. . . desperately.

But at the end of the day when I get home, N wants his wife. Not some monster impersonating her.

Apologizing gets old. So does forgiveness.

I need a new job.

At the Beach

Matisse's mission: to see how fast he can have the carpet replaced with hard wood floors. It seems that no matter what that dog does his lunch ends up on my beige carpeting. He either eats to fast, eats something he shouldn't, exercises too soon after eating, drinks salt water to ensure that he only digests half of the calories given to him. I'm pretty sure that if our dog wasn't so overweight, he would be an anorexic. But I really just think it's a case of - geez it's so hot down here and I love lying on the tile. I wonder what it would be like if the whole house was tile!!?? What can I do to make that happen?! Oh, I know, turn on the projectile vomiting.

N and I have invested stock in Spot Shot (carpet cleaner).

Yesterday, we took Matisse to the beach. Good idea. Bad reality. We packed too much and had even more grandeur ideas of how this all would go down. We thought we would spend a quiet afternoon at the dog beach where Matisse would play in the water and N & I could read on the beach. It was more of Matisse in the water and then coming out and shaking all over us. I had the understanding that he's a dog and therefore attracted to anything dry and belonging to humans but this being N's first real dog (besides one he had as a small child) didn't understand that the dog lacked a human's ability to reason. WHY DOES HE SHAKE ALL OVER THE CLOTHES?! WHY IS HE SHAKING ALL OVER ME! WHY DOES HE INSIST ON LAYING ON THE SHEET!? WHY IS HE DRINKING THE SALT WATER WHEN HE HAS A WHOLE BOWL OF FRESH WATER?!!! WHY IS HE SITTING ON MY LEG?!! WHY WON'T HE LEAVE ME ALONE??!!! WHY IS HE LOOKING AT ME?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was finally when he (N not Matisse) sat down on the beach, wrapped his arms around his legs and pouted that I had to turn away to surpress a laugh. He's a dog, I kept saying. What do you expect? N expected him to lay down, chill out under the umbrella and catch some rays with a corona light in paw so that N could do the same thing. It was funny and tragic and short lived. As soon as I was able to look at N without laughing I suggested we pack up the things and go. That this was all sorts of not working. N looked at me like I had finally saved him from a brutal hell.

It was then that N finally regained the ability to talk without using capital letters and exclamation points.

We packed up and headed home. I suggested that next time we make less of a show of it. Meaning, one bottle of water. Leash. Dog. An hour max. No cooler or sheets or towels or change of clothes or snacks or water games. Just he. Me. Matisse.

Sometimes, simple is just better.

Leaving

I left very little in Michigan when it was finally time to go.
A couple of cans of paint in the garage.
A roll of paper towels underneath the sink
Childhood odds and ends in the basement of my parents house

That last night I spent with you
it was raining buckets
A dark foreshadowing of the morning to come
when I would watch my past disappear
through the small frame of a rear view mirror

We jumped through puddles like little girls
holding hands
wrapped in boots, scarves
hats pulled nearly over our eyes
to keep the cold
and the wet out.

We sat down in a booth
surrounded by the soft glow
of rosy cheeks,
lit cigarettes
and lamps reflecting the red
of their pleated shades.

We drank more red wine than should be allowed
we laughed harder than we had in a while
but when the conversation took a turn
to the more serious
you reached across the table and took my hand
(your little hand in mine)
you lifted your glass
and in only so many words
toasted our past
the uncertain future
and this one night left
before I had to go

I left very little in Michigan when it was time to go
some paint cans in the garage
a roll of paper towels under the sink
a few odds and ends in the basement of my parents house

And that last night of
you and me together
(one last big hurrah)
I also left a little piece of my heart at that table
quietly and secretly
slipped it across the polished wood
a piece of me
for you to hold on to

Being Settled Ultimately Just Means More Questions

I live in Florida now. A permanent residence and the FL drivers licenses to prove it. The suitcases that we've been living from for the last 2 years have fianlly gone into retirement (at least for now). We have bought a house. Unpacked boxes of items that we had forgot about or wished we had with us all the while we were on travel status. We've bought furniture and debated what colors to paint the walls. We have Matisse with us again.

We're home.

There has been a lot of excitement over this transition. N finally got a job he enjoys. One that is more stable, and that pays a lot better. There are no more questions or doubts about the next place he'll be stationed (if anywhere) or whether he'll just be sent home for lack of work. There will be no more large gaps of time spent apart. We can actually plan for the future.

I have the chance to go back to school. To get a different, better, more permanent job. I can do anything. Be anyone. But i'm beginning to think that what I craved is exactly what I was most afraid of. The biggest question still looms over my head: what do I want to do? Who do I want to be? And now that I have no excuses, I find myself depressed because I don't know the answers to these questions and I don't know how to go about resolving them either.

The answer that keeps resounding in my head is just keep moving forward. The world does not standstill and no matter how hard I try I can't either. I can stagnate but not stand still. Update my resume. Apply for jobs. Go to interviews. Enroll in school again. Get that diploma. It's all a jumping point that will hopefully (and eventually) get me to where I am meant to be. I can't expect the future to reveal itself to me all at once just because I need the reassurance of it. Life is uncertain. The future is most definitely so. But the only way to success is to put one foot in front of the other and start the journey into the unknown.

Understanding One Album at A Time

I've been twiddling my thumbs with anxiety, chomping at the bit, and ignoring all the calls from friends because I don't want to spill the beans. There is so much news to report, but I just can't do it right now. There's that whole superstious side of me that that doesn't want to jinx it. Hopefully, i'll be able to say something soon. Very soon. Just not tonight.

I've been reading a book titled Love is a Mix Tape written by a contributing writer of Rolling Stone. I thought it would be a simple book about the 80's and 90's when everyone put there hearts out on the line with a cassette tape. From a time when we spent hours in front of the radio waiting for that one, perfect song that would somehow transform the mix tape from worldly to heavenly. The frosting on the cake. Unfortunately, the songs often were jaded by dejay-type introductions or the start of commercial break at the very end. Or worse yet, dedications to someone that wasn't the recipient of the said mix tape.

And the book is all of those things. It talks of a simpler time for a while; back yard barbecues, drinking beers on the curb in the company of friends, staying up all night listening to albums. But the book is also so much more than that (and what I didn't expect) which is his wife dying of an embolism in her late 20's. What kind of mix tape do you create after that? What music can soothe that kind of pain? Can music really bring us back from the brink? Is it really that powerful?

I'm not one to speculate that kind of heartbreak. Or pain. Ironically (since the book is actually about mix taples), the one thing this book has made me realize is that I am too quick to take advantage of my digital culture. I have come to believe that an album is a life story put forth by the artist. Written and arranged just so to convey their deepest thoughts, desires and message. In a show of disrespect, I am so quick to log on to itunes, grab the one song that appeals to me off an album, and disregard all the rest. But the pieces make the whole and I am missing so much more that could be there. I equate it to someone picking just a few stories out of my life biography. Those few stories don't make up the whole understanding of me. The same is true with an album. And the fact that I have done that makes me sad. In an inexplicable kind of way.

So i've turned the ipod off shuffle for a while, even pulled a few cd's out of retirment and just listened to the whole thing. One song after another. And I feel like maybe I finally understand.

And The Angels Sang Hallejulah!

Things that deserve the almighty Hallejulah, amen:

My dansko's have arrived. And although they make my feet feel like they are in a straight jacket, I hear that I will adjust, and they will stretch out. I just hope they are as good as everyone swears.

Working 7-3.30pm. Yes, I have to drag my butt out of bed before the sun even finds it acceptable to wake up but it also means I have 2 blissful hours of no customers. I also have the satisfaction of walking out when half the staff walks in.

Non sugar, non fat Carmel Machiato from Starbucks. Delicious and body conscious. Add in my employee discount and I can ride on the wings of angels for a blissful 30 minute lunch break.

Thanks to my DVR, I FINALLY got to see the season finally of Project Runway, and the fierce Christian did take the title. I bow to the greatness that is his 21 year old mind.

My mad google skills that allowed me to find John Mayer's secondary blog after he had shut down his official one. I don't know how I would get through my week without his clever (and HILARIOUS) commentary on his life & the whole aura surrounding celebrity. Unfortunately, Mr. Perez Hilton has also found it and has been linking it on to his own website. Is nothing sacred?

Verizon Wireless' New-Every-Two. Yes, my phone works and is decent shape but it was never something I really wanted. It's ugly and I took it only because it was the only Motorola and at that senseless point in my life I for some reason thought that Motorola was the be all and end all of cell phones. I've upgraded and it's great.

A GREAT sushi restaurant that is about 5 miles away. We had found a decent restaurant on the east side of the city but it took about 45 minutes to get there and the food was edible, but not great. Bayridge is great. Their spicy tuna actually surpasses Mikado's in GR.

And lastly, finding out, that it really is just all about positive thinking.

I'm Back. I Swear.

It's 2 o'clock in the afternoon and i've only been up for an hour. And when this new job isn't reaking havoc on my sleep schedule, i've spent my free time massaging my feet and self medicating with ibuprofen (while secretly wishing I could just attach my self to a morphine drip instead).

Yes, it certainly feels like 3 steps back. Or a bad reaccuring dream - wasn't I just here 5 years ago - to which the dreadful answer is indeed, yes I have been here before. But hopefully, it won't be long before I can pick up my lunch sack and head somewhere else. Afterall, I happen to be a glass half full kind of girl and I hope that my sacrifice (3 steps, remember?) ensures that we will progress one step forward in the next year.

We've already had a conversation (or 2 or 2 million, depending on which one of us you ask. I'll admit it, i'm also a girl who doesn't like unresolved scenarios) about moving down here. I could have a full time job (that hopefully would be 7 steps up from the one I have now) while going back to school; We would have our own place, with our own things, with our four-legged friend. And if worst came to worst, which it may or may not, the economy down here is a tad more friendly to those of us who are unemployed.

The inevitable moment where you reach the fork in the road. That's us. And has been for about the last 2 years.

For now we forge on, quietly and efficiently working towards our year end goal: home, pup, school, more stable job (? the last one is always a guessing game). Last year was a year of personal results for me, now I want this to be a year of results for the both of us.

Home

I meant to take a lot more pictures. Of friends. Family. Matisse, who always happens to turn his head at the exact moment I press the button, or give me one of those pictures that looks like he hasn't slept in days or that i've been sneaking drugs in with his puppy chow.

I head back to Florida on Thursday with only 2 new pictures on my camera. Both of them of Matisse fast asleep on the bed. So much for exciting. So much for human subjects. So much for having proof of the gazillion memories i've accumulated in the 2 weeks i've been home. It's gone too fast.

I've learned that bad always comes with good. That's why i've spent approximately $800 in 2 weeks fixing the Subaru to drive across town or the 2000 miles to Orlando.

I've slept with Matisse and without him and discovered that I slept better with him. Even if he is a bed hog. There is something about the comfort of a warm body next to you. Even if it does have 4 legs.

I've gone from a sunny paradise to an icy tundra. I still prefer the tundra. Good weather gets boring.

I've spent time with friends over coffee and wine. I've been hosted and a hostess. And nothing beats the feeling of coming home to people who will rearrange their day to share a beverage with me.

I've spent more time alone than with others. The best part of being home is spending time in it.

I head back to Florida with a full of car and a hurting heart. It's always hard leaving and I fear that driving away and seeing it diminish in my rearview mirror will somehow make it more difficult. It's easier to fly away from it all. It's gone in minutes.

I don't know when i'll be back. I'm employed now. On someone else's schedule. And that is bitter pill to swallow. But that's reality.
Life.
And life in Florida with N is far better than life here in Michigan without him.

Back To The Life I Left Behind

I've been gone awhile now. I haven't died. Or even forgotten my obligation to this.

I'm just home.

Enjoying life in the snow with my four legged friend.

More later.

Places So Far Away & A Long Time Ago

It sort of smelled like warm beer on a hot summer's day and the scent, acting so much like a snapshot, made me stop dead in my tracks. It took me back to the summers of the 80's when shoulder pads and leg warmers were acceptable fashion choices and I was just a tomboy with dirty feet and short hair. My brother and I spent a lot of time with my grandparents (R), it seems. It was probably owed more to the fact that my parents needed a cheap babysitter and we were the only grandchildren in a 3000 mile radius that lent itself to the companionship I found with my grandfather than anything else.

There were summers spent at a small camp ground with a fishing hole and a rusty swingset; nights by the campfire and inside a rather cramped camper where the dining table would magically transform into a bed at just the right moment (aka my bedtime). There were lazy weekends when I would get up early - when everyone else was still warm and asleep in their own beds - and ride over to my grandparent's house on my bike to browse the Sunday comics or have grandpa fix a flat tire. There were Saturday evenings when my grandparents would have dinner parties or maybe it was just neighbors stopping over to say hello, regardless, I would stay quiet and out of the way by looking through dusty picture albums stored underneath living room chairs, brushing my fingers over old pictures of my dad when he was my age.

Then, there were the days I would spend with my grandparents - spaghettios for lunch while we watched Wheel of Fortune; playing dress up in my grandmother's sheer lacy curtains that transformed into an ideal wedding dress even as they hung from the window; an old 50's style hoop skirt discarded from my aunt that became the real treasure I found in the attic; stands for my paper dolls crafted by my grandfather's hands; singing Amazing Grace with my grandfather as he soaked his tired worn feet and as I pretended mine were just as tired, just as worn.

I lost two of my grandparents before I was old enough to form any real memories of them. My grandfather (R) died when I was 7, my grandma when I was 20. I lost all of my grandparents at an age when no child should be confronted with the burden of death or the ache of loosing someone close. I remember their funerals with a vividness that still haunts me; the smell of the flowers, the feel of the plush red carpet underneath my mary janes; the outpouring of quiches and casseroles; the whisperings of pain and loss; the silence that seems to envelope all as they confront their memories and their own mortality.

And everyday I wish they were still here. That pain never goes away, it's just dulled by time and the realization that there is a life to live. But sometimes I get a whiff of my past rather through a smell of warm beer on a hot summer's day or through a tattered photograph that brings the past to the forefront and makes me realize how lucky I was for 2 years, 5 years, 7 years and 20 years to be able to hold on to those that I have now lost.

Memories of places so far away and a long time ago.

Change Or Lack Of

Aah, the wonderful feeling of beating someone into submission; of playing the bad guy. There's nothing like that high. Or so I hear. It's not really a description I like to fill. In fact, I feel a little piece of me die every time I have to take on the role because it is so out of character for me. I am typically the one to empathize, to sympathize and then to gently nudge forward over shared commaraderie and a stiff martini. That's more my style; how I move in the world.

But i've learned that approach works better with girlfriends than my own husband. He's not one to sit down for a good round of girl talk which includes hypothesizing about the future, belief of what our role is in the world, the nuances of our relationship, and how we've changed in the past and how we'll probably change in the future. That's not his style. He deals better in mathematical formulas and scientific theory than matters of the heart. Especially when it concerns his own.

For a while now I've tried encouraging N to start searching for a new job. Our short stint as two unemployed married adults with the possibility of moving in with the in-laws jerked my chain a little, made me realize that some life goals needed to be in place for us to achieve whatever dreams we want out of life. Or at the very least, to ensure that we can pay our rent payment next month. I'm a realist after all and like to live my life with a back up plan (and then a back-up plan for that one).

While my skills easily carry from state to state, border to border, job to job N's are a little more specialized and well, higher paying, so i had made it my own personal goal to help him realize his dreams. Which, ironically, has also become a very real nightmare for him.

I tried at first with the gentle approach, bringing up the touchy subject only when I felt like his guard was down and tried sparing him any real pain by making the conversation as quick as possible while still feeling satisified that I had made my point. However, no real epiphanies were reached; no heart-to-hearts lasting beyond 5 minutes and involving ben & jerrys.

I'm not saying i'm a master of communication by any means. I can tell whole world my woes and worries but when it comes to sitting one-on-one with the ONE who really matters, i get tongue tied and typically shut down becauase I don't want ot offend, hurt or in any way disappoint.

But, I also realize when there is a need and usually focus all my energy into fulfilling that need, meaning neccessity has always breed invention. So, I grabbed his hand and hoped that my assistance in the process could yield results: I updated his resumes, helped him write a couple of cover letters, searched on Monster for jobs I thought he would excel at/be qualified for/enjoy and e-mailed them to him.

When I first met N, he was goofy and quirky and the most intelligent person I had ever encountered and oh, so different than I. He had a savings account, I was living off a credit card. My apartment was a design not an afterthough, while he spent his time lounging on a foam couch he had inhertited from a family member. I thought appearance was everything, while he hadn't picked up an iron in several years and believed that black jeans were acceptable.

But I told myself that I wouldn't try to change him, because I had fallen in love with him just as he was. And I haven't changed him intentionally or for altruistic reasons, we have slowly evolved together. I am debt free, he picked out our dishes, I have days where I don't wear makeup, he has retired the black jeans.

So I come to my own realization; the ephiphany I was pushing N towards I have found myself: It's unfair to want someone to take on your hopes, dreams, desires as their own if they don't want them too. I should have taken the cue a long time ago when I realized prodding wasn't working so why would yelling and cussing and general mania? He, at this point, has no desire for change whether because he enjoys his job more than I know or because he loves this crazy, completely unrpedictable lifestyle or because he's afraid of seeking the change he thinks he might need to make.

Either way, it's not me who can facilitate it. I can question him, challenge him and help him realize potential, but I certaintly can't force it.

I'll accept the status quo and try not to worry about tomorrow; we can't fight against the unknown. I'll try to make my own happiness rather than force a change of scenery, a different situation, in hopes that that will finally make me happy.

Necessity breeds invention. Therefore, it's time to create my own happiness.

And give time, patience and a loving heart so N can create his too.

If You Buy Just One Song In 2008

Let it be this one. . .

Breathe Me/Sia/Colour the Small One

Gravity

gravity is working against me
and gravity wants to bring me down
oh i'll never know what makes this man
with all the love that his heart can stand
dream of ways to throw it all away

oh gravity is working against me
and can't sustain like one half could
it's wanting more
that's gonna send me to my knees

oh twice as much
isn't twice as good
and can't sustain like one half could
it's wanting more
that's gonna send me to my knees

oh gravity stay the hell away from me
and gravity has taken better men than me
now how can that be

just keep me where the light is
just keep me where the light is
keep you all where the light is
just keep me where the light is
oh where the light is

gravity/john mayer/try!

B&N Interview

The job sounds like it's mine if I decide I want it. The woman who interviewed me said she saw me walk in and drop off my application. She swiped it up because I looked "bubbly and happy and after contacting my former b&n manager in grand rapids who gave me a "glowing review" she said the job is pretty much available for my taking. She just has to contact HR and straighten out a few details.

This stressed me out beyond belief for some reason.

So I went and spent $55 dollars on 2 pairs of fierce shoes, 3 new belts, and 3 pairs of earrings.

Nothing like binge shopping to take the edge off.

Hikes, Interviews & MLK Day

Well, we did go for that hike. All 7 miles of it. It was nice to get outdoors in the sun, to climb over tree roots, to see field mice scatter in the path infront of us, to eat a picnic of peanut butter & jelly sandwhiches in the open air, to really get back to the basics.

Yeah, I totally regret the idea.

But N loved it and I know it was good for me to do something I wouldn't ordinarily do. And I know it's so good for my body and that alone puts a smile on my face.

So all in all it was a successful day and I survived. Next weekend we're considering trying the 13.5 mile trail and only doing 9 of it. N's all for it, so I guess it's me who's really doing the considering part.

Tomorrow I have an interview at Barnes & Noble. I turned in my application on Thursday evening and they called me early this morning. I guess that's a good sign, but in some ways it feels like a few steps back considering I worked there a few years ago and SWORE I would never go back. N reminded me there is no shame in survival and the truth is it is just temporary, not something I will dedicate the rest of my life to. I am also awaiting to hear what date works to interview with Dog Day Afternoon. I would like the chance to interview with them before I make any sort of commitment.

Regardless of what job I take it will deeply satisfying to have an income, lead a busy life again and meet new people. I have been in need of that sort of personal satisfaction for a while now.

N had today off since it was MLK day and therefore, a federal holiday. He woke up extremely late, I shoved him out of bed and told him to get dressed and brush his teeth, and then sent him off to work. He called me about 2 minutes later saying he remembered he had the day off. We both have some sort of intestinal bug so it's probably for the better. We laid low for most of the day, both taking a 2 hour nap this afternoon, and then got up and took a walk this afternoon.

So many changes in the air. What next?

At This Point In My Life

ISFJ
(33% 62% 38% 44%)

As an ISFJ, your primary mode of living is focused internally, where you takes things in via your five senses in a literal, concrete fashion. Your secondary mode is external, where you deal with things according to how you feel about them, or how they fit into your personal value system.

ISFJs live in a world that is concrete and kind. They are truly warm and kind-hearted, and want to believe the best of people. They value harmony and cooperation, and are likely to be very sensitive to other people's feelings. People value the ISFJ for their consideration and awareness, and their ability to bring out the best in others by their firm desire to believe the best.

ISFJs have a rich inner world that is not usually obvious to observers. They constantly take in information about people and situations that is personally important to them, and store it away. This tremendous store of information is usually startlingly accurate, because the ISFJ has an exceptional memory about things that are important to their value systems. It would not be uncommon for the ISFJ to remember a particular facial expression or conversation in precise detail years after the event occured, if the situation made an impression on the ISFJ.

ISFJs have a very clear idea of the way things should be, which they strive to attain. They value security and kindness, and respect traditions and laws. They tend to believe that existing systems are there because they work. Therefore, they're not likely to buy into doing things in a new way, unless they're shown in a concrete way why its better than the established method.

ISFJs learn best by doing, rather than by reading about something in a book, or applying theory. For this reason, they are not likely to be found in fields which require a lot of conceptual analysis or theory. They value practical application. Traditional methods of higher education, which require a lot of theorizing and abstraction, are likely to be a chore for the ISFJ. The ISFJ learns a task best by being shown its practical application. Once the task is learned, and its practical importance is understood, the ISFJ will faithfully and tirelessly carry through the task to completion. The ISFJ is extremely dependable.

The ISFJ has an extremely well-developed sense of space, function, and aesthetic appeal. For that reason, they're likely to have beautifully furnished, functional homes. They make extremely good interior decorators. This special ability, combined with their sensitivity to other's feelings and desires, makes them very likely to be great gift-givers - finding the right gift which will be truly appreciated by the recipient.

More so than other types, ISFJs are extremely aware of their own internal feelings, as well as other people's feelings. They do not usually express their own feelings, keeping things inside. If they are negative feelings, they may build up inside the ISFJ until they turn into firm judgments against individuals which are difficult to unseed, once set. Many ISFJs learn to express themselves, and find outlets for their powerful emotions.

Just as the ISFJ is not likely to express their feelings, they are also not likely to let on that they know how others are feeling. However, they will speak up when they feel another individual really needs help, and in such cases they can truly help others become aware of their feelings.

The ISFJ feels a strong sense of responsibility and duty. They take their responsibilities very seriously, and can be counted on to follow through. For this reason, people naturally tend to rely on them. The ISFJ has a difficult time saying "no" when asked to do something, and may become over-burdened. In such cases, the ISFJ does not usually express their difficulties to others, because they intensely dislike conflict, and because they tend to place other people's needs over their own. The ISFJ needs to learn to identify, value, and express their own needs, if they wish to avoid becoming over-worked and taken for granted.

ISFJs need positive feedback from others. In the absence of positive feedback, or in the face of criticism, the ISFJ gets discouraged, and may even become depressed. When down on themselves or under great stress, the ISFJ begins to imagine all of the things that might go critically wrong in their life. They have strong feelings of inadequacy, and become convinced that "everything is all wrong", or "I can't do anything right".

The ISFJ is warm, generous, and dependable. They have many special gifts to offer, in their sensitivity to others, and their strong ability to keep things running smoothly. They need to remember to not be overly critical of themselves, and to give themselves some of the warmth and love which they freely dispense to others.

Weekend Update

I just slept for 12 hours straight. I wonder what could be so exhausting in this Florida lifestyle that my body desperately needed to shut down for 1/2 a day just to recoup? Pathetic. . .

Today is the first day it's been sunny in about a week. I know that friends and family in Michigan are playing there little violins at that statement but it seems to be extremely uncommon that the sun would stay in hiding for that long. So to celebrate, i'm going to pull N's body out of bed, and insist we pack a backpack and go for a hike. Yesterday, it rained for the majority of the day, so I didn't even go for a walk unless you count meandering around the farmer's market. Yes, it's time to get outside and put our bodies in motion.

I know I am so going to regret this idea later.

After a lot of thinking, I've booked a plane ticket home for February 6th. I'll be staying for 2 weeks and then driving back down with A who will then stay for about a week and then fly back to GR. Yes, I'll be missing N's birthday AND our 1st Valentines day as a married couple, but before I booked I made him pinkie swear that it was ok that I deserted him for those 2 occassions. He's never wanted to celebrate his birthday - once i got him a present and a cake and he didn't speak to me the rest of the evening - and I could see him breathe a sigh of relief of not having to plan anything special for V-day. Besides, I figure that we can celebrate before or after I go.

I keep thinking of all the things I need to bring back with me. A little list that keeps expanding and retracting as I remember things and then forget them. I don't know, as of yet, if I'll get to bring Matisse back with me. I would love to but don't know if we can find place before then that allows dogs his size. There are suprisingly very few rentals on this side of Orlando.

That's all for now. Time to get on with the day.

Sweet

After months, years even, of having a dead computer battery that had a maximum life of 5 minutes after unplugging the dog-gone thing, N discovered that my battery had been recalled due to being a fire hazard.

See, good things do happen to those who wait (or are too cheap & lazy to go pay a $100 for a new battery).

L.A.Z.Y.

It's so dreary here. Drearier than i've seen it since I arrived in late November and apparently this same weather pattern will be holding on for about a week. Now, I know how those of you in Michigan feel although I am spared the freezing cold temperatures and the hassle of digging my car out of a snow bank. I can still walk outdoors in a tee-shirt. . .

I feel sorry for you.

I've been the laziest person today. My greatest accomplishment today consisted of making N lunch and ordering a birthday cake for someone at FEMA.

Oh, I was also able to catch up on some of my favorite bravo series like Real Housewives of Orange County. I typically walk away feeling poor & fat but it's worth it for the 1 hour enjoyment I derive from seeing 40 year old women act like they're 20 again. They may be rich and sport designer clothing but this show has proven there is more to aging gracefully than just an expensive skin cream.

I do feel like this day of complete waste was well desereved, however, considering I spent yesterday doing laundry (which is easier said than done, but that's a story for a different day), picking up groceries, running to the Post Office, cleaning the house and oh yes, scrubbing mold off the shower curtain. THAT was the highlight of yesterday.

I walked away from the endeavor wet, sweaty, nearly naked (there was no way I was going to let bleach touch any of my clothes) and smelling of harsh chemicals.

I'm sure it was the homecoming of N's dreams.

So, part of me has reveled in the delight of a well-wasted day in which pajamas were converted to "lounge wear" and a martini is acceptable at 11am.

Good Things

A grateful heart:

1. A ticket home for Feb 6th.
2. A friend who has graciously eaten up some of her vacation to travel back to Florida with me.
3. An interview.
4. A husband who demonstrates every day how I can love better.
5. Friendships & phone calls. I would be lost without both.
6. A good home for Matisse. If I can't be there and he can't be there then at least I know he's in the best place he can be for now.
7. Parent's who have kindly taken him on. And whom I know love him as much as I do.
8. 60 - 70 degree sunny weather.
9. The ability to no longer break under hurtful criticism; especially when given by someone so close.
10. Another sunrise, another day. Maybe i'll finally get this living thing right today.

Office Politics

I may or may not have dug myself into a hole with a temp agency. Now, I have to consider how to graciously dig myself out of the hole I created without blowing the chance at future employment opportunities.

Honesty is the best policy, right?

Fresh Flowers

They really do hold a temporary power to make everything better.

He is so good to me.

An Open Letter To The Universe:

Yeah, ok, I get it already. Your trying to teach me the attributes of resilency, of a tough skin, of the ability to bounce back and the importance of flexibility. I understand what you're trying to teach me and apparently I needed to learn those things. I just have once complaint: Do all these life lessons have to happen in the span of 1 week?

I guess you don't quite understand how entirely broken i've felt lately. Add to the list haggard, tired, weak, worn, completely exhausted and maybe a little bit insane and you have an accurate picture of how i've been feeling. And yet, without fail you keep bringing the punches like a professional boxer. But believe me, i'm down and the referee has counted to 3 and i've still made no attempt to get up.

In other words. You win.

And yet I have this dreadful feeling that you're not through yet. Instead as you keep throwing the punches you'll offer up some semi-philosophichal bullshit to answer the age-old question: why when it rains does it pour? You'll say that humanity learns better when they've already been thrown to the ground; that we're more willing to pay attention; to learn the lessons; to negotiate a different plan; to implement change. Of course, you'll cite examples and drop phrases like "rock bottom" and "rehabilitation."

And in case you weren't already aware, you have my full attention. I've been hit by both sides and have sought shelter in a bunker only to be hit again. And this last week, this last month, this last year as a matter of fact, has been nothing short of one big lesson plan.

But I would like to state for the record that i have approximately 60 years (give or take a little) of life left to live, so would it kill you to give me a chance to catch my breath before you side-swipe me again? How about we spread these life lessons out a little more than one-a-day?
That'd be great.

Thank you,
LTR

Alright

I'm all right y'all.
No really, I am alright despite what previous blog posts may have dictated.

The poem, if you even want to call it that, was an idea that popped into my head and I tried to see how far I could take it. It had been written in a journal that lies on my bed side table and was an idea that had been worked and re-worked many times; chicken scratches of words and phrases crossed out and crossed out again when I thought I had found the next best thing. That's all.

Granted, a part of it may have stemmed from some point of me. The world has seemed to be resting heavy on my shoulders lately for whatever reason. Emotions pile up and I don't feel the I have the right to express them because I know in no way is my life any more difficult than the person next to me; or because I know they're foolish emotions - temporary, fleeting - and i'll wake up feeling fine tomorrow; or because I realize that their not going to change any time soon so I might as well sit down and stay with them awhile. Revel in them, get to know them a little.

Loneliness takes a toll on me. Day after day spent alone leaves a lot of opportunity for me to be alone with my thoughts. I think of home, of the guilt I feel leaving yet another dog with my parents (they took on Dudley because G couldn't have him); or the guilt of not being there for my own; I think of the creature comforts I miss as well - 600 thread count sheets, a full wardrobe, pictures and decorations that are familiar to me; being able to drink out of a glass before inspecting it because I wonder what filth the last person left in it; I think of being unemployed, about being out of school about how unsuccessful and unaccomplished I feel; I think about stability and how badly I do without it; I think about the next time we'll have our home again and how long we'll get to stay there; I think about family and friends, how they get to share times without us and how that pangs the heart a little; or how I wish I could be there in times of need for my own family and friends, instead I have to somehow transport my heart and hands through the telephone rather than offer them up in person.

It's difficult being away, growing up, moving on. And some of these life lessons seem to come all at once like a big ball that rolls me over and puts me out of commission for a while. And I just want to run home to the safety of what I know but then realize that home is 400 miles away in a tiny, empty apartment that holds my heart.

So I take a deep breath and hope the next day gets better.

The Puppet

held up by the strings of a puppeteer called obligation
i must, so i do
dance for an audience
act out a part dictated by someone else
all for the entertainment and delight of others

but when the show is over
the stage lights go out
the puppeteer lays me down
in a puddle of strings and bent wooden limbs
no longer controlled by someone else
but not strong enough to pick myself up

at this time
i get to finally be myself
a moment to be alone
a chance to breathe
at this time
i make the decisions, not any puppeteer
and i always decide to cry a tear
down past the lips of my painted smile
hoping for the chance to someday
be the puppeteer of my own life.

Note To Self

It will get better.

Angst

Can I just throw up and be done with it already?

Happy Birthday

One year later . . .

and some things just never change

Happy 1st birthday to the best gift I have ever received.

On And On We Go

N to bed early. It's only a little after 9. Headache. Stomache. We keep passing it back and forth. Now I wonder what to do with the rest of my evening. I already recorded some recipes that I found worthwhile. N's a tough critic so while I may try out 4 new recipes a week, only 1 will make it into the "yeah, that's good enough to make again" pile.

I'll find something to do with my evening.

On and on I'll go.

I finished the book Atonement today. Was glad to get to the last page which is unusual for me. The story, I found, wasn't very captivating and it was a tough read. I'll return it to the used book store in Sanford. I've finally learned the importance of giving away books that I really don't care about. Last year I would have found it heresy to sell a book even if I didn't like it.

Recycle. Reuse. On and on we go. Thru the next year.

Down 2 (or is it 4?) dress sizes this year. It's not something I usually talk about. I understand how easily successes can turn into failure. How life can become quickly unbalanced. That food/exercise habits can follow. Bought new jeans and received them this week. Haven't fit in that size since my freshman year in college. 7 years ago. Crazy.

I sought balance. I sought truth. I sought a reality I could live with. I sought happiness in spite of circumstances beyond my control. I learned the lessons. I learned so much about myself.

Balance is the key. On and on we go. Thru the next year.

No word yet about the application N submitted for a job. I'm trying to put positive vibes into the world. I'm trying to be upbeat. I'm trying to not worry about the future because I have no control beyond what I am capable of. We'll be ok.

On and on we go.

Journaling again. Praying again - to God, to Allah, to Mother earth (I have no idea to whom) - it makes me accountable for my actions. It put things in perspective. It makes me feel whole again. And the last year or so, I've really lost that part of me. It's good to be back to that feeling. It good to realize that there is more to me than day to day living. It's good to hold the belief that there is a world out there bigger than me. I hope so.

On and on we go.

May you, friends & family, find success, fullfillment, joy & peace in 2008.

On and on we go
thru the next year.