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.