who woulda thunk...

Here's the thing with music and me, when I hear something I like, I wear the album out. I listen over and over and over. If I fall asleep during a skip, a groove is worn. Ok, the album reference is a little outdated, but for those of us who experienced adolescence when albums were listened to, you understand.

Now, back to my subject. I am in pre surgery thinking mode. Never having surgery before I'm sure I'm in denial regarding my recovery. Whoever thinks denial is a bad thing is just plain stupid. I love denial, it's how I survive. I have only been in hospitals to have babies, and recovery was short and sweet.

Funny all of my stays in hospitals surround my uterus.

I am having the baby cocoon removed Monday morning. For some crazy reason I have become sad about the prospect of never having another baby, God only knows why, I am almost 50. Last night I started thinking about the "what ifs". What if I met a man and we wanted to see what our mixed DNA would produce? If he was a man that I loved he would have to be spectacular, our kiddo would be nothing short of the most fabulous being ever born (yeah no ego problem here).

I have beautiful children, and spectacularly good ones. They sleep through the night from birth, listened to their momma, are funny and smarter than the average bear.. My girlfriend told me that God would give us only what we could handle. If that's the truth he apparently thinks I'm fairly fragile when it comes to child rearing. My kids were so damn easy.

I tend to forget the negative part of my mothering skills. The little part that I left them with their pops and moved a few states away because I was (still am) a bit of a fruitcake. They still love me, and have become a bigger priority to me now that I'm not with them. They are in my mind 24 hours a day. I talk to them daily, miss them desperately. I can't go back tho, I just can't.

Back to my thinking I am going to miss my baby making ability. I loved being pregnant. I loved the whole idea of the little aliens growing inside me. Watching my belly provided me with such pleasure and entertainment. The pokes and whole body rolls were miracles that I was responsible for.

I could have another baby, would love to have another baby with someone that I loved. I am ready now, I wasn't ready when I had my kids. I feel guilty for thinking such thoughts and very sad.

Emotional overload

I am angry, angry at myself for being me. I am impatient, unforgiving and expect far too much from friends and family. I am also weak, lazy and complacent.

I hate the following:

weeds (unless they're pretty)

dirt (altho it feels so good when you wash it off)

anger

humidity

liars

hair (on my body)

credit cards

water (that my dog slobbers on the floor and I step in)

sadness

thoughtlessness

I love the following:

my children

Bear

storms

snow

sun

stars

moon

fireflys

Hershey candy bars (w/almonds)

COFFEE

sleep

clean sheets

old movies

music

mindless staring

respect

 

 

Calm Before the storm?

Maybe I've just never had friends (men) that were like him before. Maybe it is just a friendship and nothing else. Maybe there are a lot of men friends that sing you songs, make you feel happy when you're sad, make you feel like you are the smartest person in the world, make you feel special and cared for. Maybe that's what friendship is all about. All these years I confused friend with love. If friendship is this great, man, love must be fantabulous.

Sometimes when I'm tired and he calls me, I snuggle down in my bed pretending he is across from me, I can hear his heartbeat, his breathing, I can smell the sweetness of his breath the manly scent that only men have, His rough skin hands slipping under the sheet to find my hands and hold them.

Dreams only dreams..

A natural miracle

That thing in the corner of the post and rail of my deck is a living thing. I noticed one of these things crawling on my siding last night. Then again today, when I was sitting on my patio, it was clinging to bushes that I recently trimmed. I noticed there were several, camouflaged in a coat of needles, in the branches.

These past few days I have been amazed with (and grossed out) with mother nature. The hidden life within our world is amazing. If you look close enough at anything I believe you will see something that breathes and moves and generally has multiple legs.

From tomato to sky

The tomato alien turns into a moth. I would have preferred a pretty butterfly. Honestly with the size of those things they could have become birds, pterodactyls, something that Fred and Wilma could have taken a trip on.

My friend came and lovingly picked them from a plant (bare hands!!!), put them in a box and carted them off to release in the wild. My only fear is they will find their way back, like a dog or cat. And, they will be angry, I can see them clinging to my back screen screaming at me. Producing off spring, climbing up my drains and spreading out, marching towards me, with all their little hands waving in the air. That's the Rod Serling in me, I'm sure it will only be a dream and I'll wake up screaming.

I'm afraid to eat the tomatoes. Where do they lay their eggs? I feel like something is moving in my ear. An itch too deep to scratch...

He called my bluff

Yep, he called my bluff. I think he knows me too well... he knew I would shrink, think and then say uh... not today... maybe next week.

Yikes...

I'll come around, I know it would be good for me to see his face, watch his lips move while listening to his words. I want to see his hands, his blueberry eyes, I want to hear him laugh in person.

I will cry and hopefully get over this crazy crush I have.

Thinking thoughts

Beginning Aug 2nd I will be off work for at least 4 weeks. I will have weeks and weeks of being alone with my thoughts. That generally means trouble, troubled thoughts. Sadness of where I am in life, what I’ve done to my kids and why do I continue with a friendship that has caused me to distrust my thoughts, and life in general. I'm afraid I will consumed with thoughts of him, what is he doing, where is he, why hasn't he called blah blah blah. It makes me tired, it frustrates me that I focus so tunnely (my word) on him and constantly nag, whine and complain. I'm tired of me.

I have been so busy at work that I haven’t had time to think my sad thoughts. It’s been good, I’ve been ok with life. Unfortunately I’ve been away from work for 2 days and sadness is seeping in. Distrust of others, questioning why I continue in a friendship that causes me sadness is all back again. I know that there is a love of his life in addition to play with others. The play is never confirmed or denied so all I have is my crazy thoughts that I don’t know if I can trust. I could be very intuitive or just plain crazy. I’ll never know because he makes it very clear it’s none of my business.

I always work my way through these times. Always coming to the same conclusion, that what I get in conversation from him is worth my negative thoughts. Sometime it takes longer to get back to our conversation comfort. He’s always there, always takes my calls, listens to me tell him I can’t do this any more, it causes too much sadness. I’ll hear sadness in his voice and I feel bad, I miss him even when I’m talking to him. He knows the reality of his life and all I know is what I’ve made up in my crazy thoughts.

I know the sweetness, caring and thoughtfulness that he shows me in his words, pictures, gifts. I am jealous that he isn't just for me. I only see a small part of him. I feel like the whole of him is generous, giving and caring, I wanted all of him. I thought that I was a main focus, sure he palyed with others but, who did he end his day with? It was me. I am sad that we went on for so long with me in a dreamworld in D-world.

I hate this, I hate the cycle that we have created. The rollercoaster of feelings that I ride all the time. I’m tired of not trusting, not believing, thinking he’s on a date for real or with someone on line. I feel like if I knew what the reality was/is I would learn to deal with it, to make an educated decision on if I should stay or go, based on reality. Instead all I have is my thoughts and silence when questions are asked.

At this point I have no expectations of a relationship. Honestly I don’t want a relationship, I like my aloneness, I like being with myself, I don’t want to share my space. As much comfort I’ve gotten from him, great conversations, time filled with words, I feel like I wasted so much energy concentrating on something that had no future, no reality, something based deceit. I focused on what I thought was a possible real relationship. I missed opportunities to foster friendships, make new ones, to focus on what was real for me. I lived in a fantasy world for years, a fantasy of a fake boyfriend, that he was someone who really cared for me and would eventually be for real.

 

I am too old for this stuff. I should know better. I shouldn’t keep believing what I can’t trust, me.

Innocent pup

Sorry mutt. You are innocent of luring the bunnies to fulfill your personal need for attention.

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ALIENS!!!!!

OMG!! I owe a big apology to sweet bunnies everywhere. They are not criminals, they don't steal what doesn't belong to them, they are sweet furry little honeys. HOWEVER, these aliens, caterpillars, tomato bugs, worms whatever the hell they are are GUILTY and GROSS!! They are eating my plants up and they scare the shit out of me.

I pulled my plants back last night thinking the bunnies would be afraid to come further onto the patio. I still thought they were the culprits. I was watering today and noticed droppings again by the plants. I thought wow, brave bunnies, but then I looked closer... OMG I screamed jumped back, then quickly scanned the neighborhood to see if anyone witnessed my fright. Thank goodness no one was around. I died, I honest to god did not know what to do, I panicked. So I took pictures, called my friend who is coming over to remove and took a shower.

YIKES!!!!

Damn Bunnies!

Note the empty branches, leafs chewed, tomatoes stolen. Droppings of the eaten veggies left at the scene. No bugs, no neighbors, it's bunnies, cute big eared bunnies! The dog does nothing to stop them, I believe he's encouraging them. "Look bunnies, salad!", he says to lure them to his patio. He's lonely, he wants attention and the bunnies give him what he needs. Bastard bunnies and traitor dog.

Marbles rematch

My chair

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still trying to make sense

 

I am pensive and pondering this evening. Trying to figure out, once again, why does he want to talk to me? I must be a duplicate conversation, he has already shared his day, why share it again? She knows all the sweet things I thought were just ours. I know I know there was never an "our", or "us" or anything between us really.

I was ok today. I realized about 11pm tonight I hadn't really talked to anyone but my dog today and I was ok with that. I'm ok not having conversation. Why would anyone want to have 2 conversations in a day? Why would you want to talk to another to, maybe, only say the same things you have already said to some one else?

Man oh man... he is my best friend and I have no clue who he really is.

Sarah told me about this band, Bon Iver, who I'm listening to. Nice stuff nice to listen to while you are feeling pensive and pondering.

My Dog Bear

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Happy Ending

How sweet would it be for someone to call you their "happy ending"? To be so optimistic that you would provide eternal happiness. Maybe it's more confidence than optimism. Confidence of knowing who you are, who they are. The comfort level has already been built, trust, love and comfort are all ready to go.

I think that would be the greatest compliment to be recognized as a "happy ending". No sarcasm, in all seriousness. I hope I end up as a HE to someone, someday.

nothing in particular

I'm not feeling much like a muse anymore. I don't think I inspire much creativity to those that I want to. I'm feeling kinda blah. I didn't sleep last night, it was hotter than heck today and I basically just tried to get through the day. I feel guilty that all these hours were wasted.

I guess that's where the muse part comes in. Even when I wasn't productive it was nice to think I inspired others to create. Personally, I think he was just being nice and that was his way of making me feel special. He didn't need me to inspire, he was pretty good at doing that himself.

I've been forgetting things lately. Forgetting to finish work I started, make calls that I promised, take medicine, drink coffee, eat, pay bills, finish sentences and thoughts. I'm not confident that I am competent any more.

Then again, I could probably look at something that I wrote a few years ago and find that I am repeating concerns that I had then. I think I live in a Groundhog Day world. I constantly repeat my days, thoughts, mistakes, over and over again. Unfortunately I don't recognize it and instead of learning like Bill did I just keep doing it over and over, thinking it's the first time I've experienced it.

My kiddo called me today and asked if I wanted to meet his dad half way (middle of WI) to pick him up on Saturday. I was in the middle of completing a report for work, was pissed that I was doing it and the tone it was asked for. He request caught me off guard and my response was "this Saturday?". He is such a sensitive fellow and he caught the distance in my voice as well as the surprise. He never wants to come to my house. Immediately he said "never mind, I didn't want to come anyway". Man oh man that kid drives me nuts. I tried to backup a bit and say I was more than happy to make the trek I'd love for him to come stay with me. He had already disconnected himself and said he had to go.

I gotta call him.

on this day 23 years ago...

wow, 23 years ago

I would have been married 23 years today (yesterday now). Joe and I were married in a beautiful historic court building in downtown St Paul July 13th, 1985. We totally lucked out getting in to the Landmark Center on such short notice. I thought that was a sign it was supposed to happen. I planned the wedding in about 2 weeks on a thousand dollar budget. We picked the 13th  because that was the day our marriage license was going to expire. It was now or never.

It wasn't all bad, but I think we would have been better friends. He is definitely a product of Boomer parents. Traditional pops and stay at home mom. His pop was fairly successful at what he did, he was the drinking, smoking man of the 50's and 60's. He was just like one of the Mad Men (TV series) only his business was food not marketing. Joe believed that he would have the same kind of family as what he grew up in, just a little more functional.

My parents were Boomer as well, they wanted to be traditional but my pops was a failure at supporting his family and my mom was a fruitcake. God rest both their souls. In the time I spent with them, my dad never had a traditional job, they never owned a house, never had a retirement, a savings account. None of the kids went to college, not even a trade school. We all flopped around like fishes out of water, waiting for a hand to come and flip us back in. No direction was given and all of us lived (still do) thinking that there are others worse than us, we can't be that bad, no point in changing.

Joe is a nice man, he just doesn't have any patience and suffers from low self esteem. We were a perfect pair, exactly alike. My biggest problem was that for some crazy reason I thought I was better than he was. I should have held out for a airline pilot or a lawyer at least someone with a degree. I was mean and nasty and spent our money like it grew on trees. We fought like cats and dogs, it hurt emotionally and physically for both of us.

We did blend very well together on some things. Our houses were always very cool, our yards were fabulous, our tastes in furniture and landscaping were identical. We would scope out and spend hours in furniture stores, garden stores and open houses. I loved going to the hardware/lumber stores with him, we would wander up and down all the aisles, discovering new tools, smelling fresh cut wood, dreaming of new kitchens and baths. We loved driving around just when it was starting to get dark, so we could look in others peoples houses to see how they decorated, the colors they used. I know that sounds a little weird, we loved it. We loved driving around together. We were road trippin fools and would take off on a moments notice to small town, MN. Visiting the antique stores, eating at the local diner and driving home at night. Our kids easy got into that groove with us and would look forward to our day away.

We also had incredible sex. We were experimental, spontaneous, we weren't scared of anything as long as it felt good. I'll leave it at that, but man... it was great.

I think he would have been happy to continue in the relationship forever. We ended in our 19th year, making it official the 20th year. I thought I was dieing that I was missing out on something so much better so much bigger. I had to leave, I had to escape or I would miss my chance at greatness. OMG! I was having a mid life crisis. Joe being the guy he is basically said, "honey if you need to go, then go. You can always come back" (he has since changed his mind on the 'coming back' part) . I ran like hell.

Looking back, leaving them was a god awful mistake, one that I think about every single day. Not a day goes by that I don't have the heavy hand of regret hanging over me. I left two beautiful children (they were asked to come with me, they respectfully declined and stayed with their dad), one who is flopping like a fish and the other determined and angry. As much as complain about my parents I suck even worse at parenting than they did. I do talk to the kiddies every day, which is a blessing. I am lucky to have kept close relationships with both. Sometimes I think if we were in the same house we wouldn't be as close as we are now.

Maybe if I had been successful in my relationships following the split with Joe, or if my career had taken off I would be happier. Maybe if I hadn't broke off all ties with my family and friends I would be happier. Maybe if I were more of a social butterfly, prettier and blond I would be happier. Maybe if I moved to Paris I would be happy. Maybe maybe maybe…

Hey, it's Sunday. It's my day of list making and reflection. I know, how is that different from any other day? The other days I obsess, Sunday I reflect. If you believe that, I have a bridge in my back yard I'm looking to sell. Oh… there's also a little work thrown in every so often along with my reflecting and lists.

Full of excuses

Man... I am full of excuses. Excuses for being unhappy. I need to pull myself up by my bootstraps and quit making excuses.

Yeah life sucks, you are what your family created. I think if you realize that you should be able to get past it.

I'm waiting to get past it.

I'm going to make a sandwich while I'm waiting.

mmm... iced coffee

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mom

I think my mother was a poor soul. She was a woman who had 7 kids and never seemed happy. I was the last of the brood and she was tired when I came. She slept through most of my adolescence. I remember her dark bedroom and trying really hard not to bother or wake her. The parents I knew were very different than the ones my brothers and sisters grew up with.

My dad was always gone. I didn't really start seeing him on a regular basis until I was 13 or 14. Prior to that he was traveling, trying to peddle his wares. Everything from freezers to coffee. My mom said he was great at selling, so great they would promote him to management and he would fail miserably. I never experienced my dads success. I lived through the days of no food in the cupboard, threats of losing utilities and where's the rent. I remember my mom struggling all the time, alone. She slept to escape real life.

When she wasn't sleeping she was angry. She was overwhelmed with life and struggled to keep afloat. She appeared to love my dad, I think I know that more now than I did when they were alive. I can read the love in their letters they they faithfully sent to each other while my dad was gone. My mother kept those letters and I have them now. I have a lot of their words.

They were very protective of each other. They didn't want to stress or hurt each others feelings. Not in their written words, they were always positive and upbeat except for the times when my dad accused my mom of being too close to a male friend or my mom would suggest is was time for them to separate. They never did and I'm not sure about my mom and her "friend". I wonder of my dads concerns of my mothers faithfulness had something to do with his possible wandering on the road. Neither do I know for sure, I'm just wondering.

She would yell when he was at home, she could be very cruel. My dad would leave, he would leave to work he said. And he would stay away for as long as he could, and she would sleep until he came back.

I was so lost, I was so alone in  that damn family. I find myself doing things my mother did. The anger, the escapes, I used drugs, alcohol and sex when I was younger. I have no patience, no time no energy for my family. The difference between my mom and me is I left. I left my family before I could do the damage to them that she did to me.

Now I am alone, and I try to sleep to not have to deal with my life. My hell is I can't sleep without the help of little white pills. They help me to shut down my brain. I am totally fucked up financially wise. I grew up with nothing, nothing but the stress of parents who couldn't pay the bills. 

My kids were never going to know that stress and I would never deny myself what I wanted, when I wanted it. And I didn't, right up to this point. That's something I'm not ready to come to terms with. I just want to sleep, if I'm lucky one day I won't wake up. I think that's what my mom wished for many times.

Some days I look in the mirror and I see her. I see her staring back at me wondering what the hell I have done with my life. How could I have allowed myself to get in this position? How could I have ever left my children? She would have never done that, she never did. Not physically, but mentally she was never there. Isn't that the same thing?

 

Bear Rug

 

 

 

 

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changing names

I spent the last 20 minutes typing. Typing words thoughts, most of them positive. I hit the back space key and POOF! Gone! All of my words have disappeared. I am pissed. I still have to get this stuff out so I am going to start all over again. It will be different but the messages will be the same.

Friday is over, it wasn't when I started my first entry. It came and went uneventfully (not sure if that's a word). The day started out hot and sunny. I worked in my yard, set up my hammock. I was prepared to bask in the sun and listen to music the rest of the afternoon when the sky started to darken and the wind blowin. A storm was brewin and I was stuck inside. I tried to stay away from this (journal) and keep my thoughts to myself.

I changed the name of the journal again. I am trying to find something that fits, not that anyone pays attention to these words. I need to find something that fits me. Ok, good luck, it will change a million more times.

I want to get a puppy for Bear and I want my daughter to move in with me. Both Bear and I need some positive energy. I know I should be careful what I ask for. A few months from now I will be crying that I need my quiet again. I need my aloneness. Hopefully it will only be during certain times of the month.

This is normally the best part of the month for me. It is in between pre and post period. My mood tends to level out and I feel optimistic, open and happy. This month is different. I miss my conversations with someone I am used to having regular conversations with. I think I have accepted that it's best for us to break the bond we've created over the years.

He has another life he needs to concentrate on. I have been a distraction. A big distraction. He's been a distraction for me as well. I was distracted from real life. I built a cocoon around me, I felt safe warm and loved in a crazy way. I need to peek my head into the real world again. I think it's time for both of us to move on. I was thinking about him and I think he must have sensed it because my phone rang. It was good to hear his voice, but I need to be careful. I think we are both tiptoeing a little, the comfort is not what it was. Today I want to take steps back and go tosleep with his voice, I want to crawl into my cocoon and feel safe again.

Epiphany

It came to me as I was listening to Chris and his pundits. I could never, and will never, be a politician! Yes, could have knocked me down with a feather. And you all thought I had such promise. I apologize, for once again, letting you down.

Focus on the positve

I've decided to focus on the positive things in my life. Well... at least for the rest of today, hopefully tomorrow too. No promises.

I got a free coffee at Starbucks today. I had a birthday gift card I wanted to use so I decided to get a coffee and a pound of beans. Instead of using the drive thru I went in. I ordered my usual (what used to be my daily, till I went broke), iced venti nonfat caramel macchiato.  When she called me to the bar to pick up my coffee it was a hot one, oops! She quickly made me a iced one and then offered me the hot. I took it, I'm no fool. It's in my refrigerator for tomorrow. I'm excited.

Bear is using the stairs like a pro again. That jail time did a number on him. I have learned to keep my door closed and promise to work on fixing the gate.

I have a dinner date with a friend from work tomorrow, I get to hear her hysterectomy story. Something to look forward to.

It has cooled to 68 degrees, nice sleeping weather with a fan. I can't bear the thought of closing up my house to cool with air conditioning.

I didn't talk to my kids today. I missed Spencer's call. Sarah sent me a text telling me she was just like me now, she wasn't nice till she had coffee. Poor baby.

Speaking of Sarah...

The Indian princess

Wa lah! A little make-up and she's a model.

It's funny how she transforms herself so easily.

I didn't talk to anyone today. Not a soul. It was one of those days where I wanted to test my voice to make sure I still had one. I wonder if there isn't any one to hear it does it really make a sound. Kinda like that tree in the forest thing.

So much for Thursday.

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Fear of Flying

I was encouraged to write, I felt encouraged to write. Then, I was told my words hurt. My first instinct (based on the martyr in me) says fine, I knew it, I won't write any more. Then, I'll write but I will hide. Then I thought the rest of the day, I obsessed on how I should move forward.

I want to explain. My words were not meant to hurt, at least not the party that took it to heart. I missed my mark and hit a target that is an innocent party.

I have baggage that weighs heavy on me. I don't know how, when, or if I will ever get to check that baggage. I'm afraid the restrictions will tighten, soon we will only be allowed what we can carry and it has to fit very specific measurements. We will never be able to check again. Only those that travel light will be able to survive. The rest of us are destined to stay in the same place forever.

I don't want to stop my fingertips. I don't want to hide. I want to share myself with others, if I hit a nerve (good or bad) I want them to share their thoughts with me. Yes, this medium can be as hurtful as any real contact. Sad but true, nothing, no place, is safe. If you put your heart and mind out there it's fair game. You can be taken advantage of, you can also laugh, learn and love. It's the same in real life. See and touching might make reality hit home faster, but reality always comes, no matter the situation, real or cyber. 

This is the medium that loners must use. I don't have a soapbox or a wingback chair. I just have me, myself and I and my fingertips to communicate at the level that is comfortable to me.

Guess it doesn't matter

Once again my words got me in trouble. I knew there was a reason for me to keep them in my head.

I apologize.

It's the friends you can call at 4am that matter

In a way the subject line is right on target. The friends that keep their ringer on through the night. Keep it close by so it's easy to answer. Not only do they do this, you can actually count on them to answer the phone. It's never a end of the world emergency it's more of a I can't sleep emergency, can you sing me a song, tell me a joke? Make me forget whatever it is that is making me stay awake. He was one that would take my sons algebra work do it, scan it and send it. I loved his willingness to help and his numbers.

Sure enough a little clearing of the throat and sweet words a touching sentiment is now flowing into my ears. Next I hear "did you hear about the cowboy that went into the bar with a monkey on his shoulder? I'm sure I had. it doesn't matter, I don't remember jokes. I am a comics perfect wife.

I swear my friend kept a Jennifer phone on him at all times. I could count on him to answer any questions I had, help me make a purchase, turn the right direction and sing when necessary.  There were the times he didn't answer, I would call his cell, his land line, no answer. The no answer was my answer, he was with someone else and couldn't answer. It was tough, really tough.

We both had worked on creating this crazy relationship. I thought his women conquests were all Internet hunting expeditions that he was successful at. Then years later I learned that in addition to those ladies of the wire, he had a land lady too. His "happy ending".

Now that I am backing very slowly away from him and am finding myself backing into someone new. Someone that I sense could provide similar comforts that my other gave me. Taking a step back I suddenly got very paranoid. I am blindly, happily sliding into a comfortable friendship again. All Internet related and I am believing everything I am being told. HELLO??? What did we learn from the last one?  Seriously? I poured my heart, shared all of me, didn't hold back on anything. I was truthful from the beginning.

We both felt an instant connection, it was crazy how well we fit together. The beginning of the crack started 8 months into it. He told me he was 10 years older that what he claimed. Oops, "I thought you had figured that out". HUH!? How would I have, I've never seen him, I trusted he was telling me the truth. Ok... we get past that, Then his alter ego screen names and his constant playing on line was making that crack grow might long and widen. Ok... we can get past that, he decided, he wasn't interested in me in a sexual way any more, ok... we can get past that. Gee who's making all the concessions here?We make much better friends. This friend and I would talk 3-5 times a day, on occasion the call would last for hours and the sun would start to come up. He was my friend and I could live with out the sex. Jesus, it's called mutual masturbation with some great words that can draw pleasure I would have never thought possible. But, hey we were friends, he could get those pleasures from others and his conversations with me.

 

Wait! oops there just that one more thing. 3 years have past and I have one more secret you should know. I have a "happy ending", a woman I love and plan to spend the rest of my life with. What Huh!!?? 17 years they've been together. I have talked to this man every night for at least the last 2 years. We went to sleep together. I don't understand the dynamics ofhis relationship with his Happy Ending. I never will.

So back to me backing off, I am slowly but surely. Now I have met another recently that also had the quick connection and it's all Internet. This one is different he read my journal, made comments and now we talk through comments or email, nothing else. So many similarities to my first John it's scary. I find myself believing everything I'm told, not thinking twice about the impending divorce, the 3 marriages prior, the 1 son, where he lives what he does. Should I be believing all of this? Is he really going to turn out to be a married man with 5 kids that has a wood burning sign shop he runs from his garage? His wife already have the condo in Tempe.   As soon as she retired in 2010 they are moving. They love each other and have committed themselves for life. Is that what's going to happen again?

How do I protect myself form this happening again? Do I back away from everything? Or, can I start with a little trust, ride it for a bit and see? What do I do???

 

Words to live by

Yes I know, it's a horoscope for Gods sake. I get mine sent to me daily. Mostly they cause a chuckle. Sometimes they actually have some substance. I think tomorrow is one that I will pay attention to.

Cancer Horoscopes (June 21 - Jul 22)

Yesterday | Today | Tomorrow

Wednesday, Jul 9th, 2008 -- Perhaps it's better to be stressed by too much opportunity rather than not enough. Maybe it's easier to suffer disappointment when things are going well than when they are not. Still, heightened expectations can lead to discouragement, so it's better to scale back your ambitions before you set yourself up for failure.

Fruits of my labor

First tomatoes.

First pepper

Day Lilies

My world, welcome to it.

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Bears Pond

Bears walking pond

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My Old Man

I find myself talking to my mutt like I think I would have talked to my pops, if I had taken care of him when he was old. I never had the chance, he was killed in a car accident when I was 21 and he was 60. It was a drunk driver, who was driving over 100 mph when he slammed into the rear of my dads little Toyota. It was nasty.  My dad was thrown from the car. He suffered major head trauma, and survived long enough for all of us to say good bye. He didn't really survive on his own, the machine kept him warm enough for us to gather, pray, hope and dream for a while. Then finally realizing it was best to let him go and we did. I was there, I watched his body stop.  

I loved my pop, didn't really know him. I was the youngest of 7 kids. By the time I came to the family he was tired, tired of being a dad. The 6 before me challenged him. He lived through the depression, was a WWII vet and his kids embraced the hippie life style. He loved me the best he could, but he had given up any hope that he could influence his kids lives. He had given up on a lot of things. He didn't make much money and my mom was a little hard on him. I lived in between them. Two very tired people who tolerated the youngest.

I worked with my dad in a small commercial upholstery business he had. We worked during the night, watched the sun come up. We worked mostly in silence in big hotel conference rooms, closed restaurants and bars. He would smoke his pipe and rarely say anything to me other then to give me directions of what to do. I knew in my heart he loved me, he just never showed it. 

I did take care of my mom when she was ill and dying. I was with her when she took her last breath. I feel very lucky to have been there to witness their deaths. It wasn't scary, it wasn't a struggle, it was peaceful and full of morphine.

With Bear I find I am gentle, loving and compassionate, I am so happy to see this side of me again. I tend to think that  I am cold, mean and bitchy so it's a relief to know that there is still some goodness in me.

He is such a sweet mutt. He has a funny look in his eyes now. I can see panic and confusion and a lot of "oops, I'm sorry, I didn't know I had to go" looks. I can only pet, and console "it's ok sweetie".

 

Please ignore the buddy request!!

In one of my early morning expeditions of trying to learn more about everything I decided to learn more about AOL Buddies. Big mistake! I ended up sendinginvites to just about everyone that I have some sort of contact with on AOL. It was a total mistake!

For those of you who get an invite, are wondering who the heck I am, and are checking out my profile to see, PLEASE IGNORE!!!

I forgot

How true is this?

The Power Of The Dog
by Rudyard Kipling

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie —
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find — it's your own affair —
But … you've given your heart for a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!);
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone — wherever it goes — for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart for the dog to tear.

We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long —
So why in Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?    

what a difference a good night sleep makes!

The dog is doing great! I am doing great! Life is good!

oh my god I'm tired

I've been thinking about cracking open a book that I once started a long time ago. It was a mind bending experience, one that I had high hopes for. It was going to educate me about science, the big bang and a bunch of other stuff (heady technical speak huh?) that I haven't a clue about. I even got the illustrated version, I believed if there were pictures, I would catch on quicker. I am a visual person. I have to see, read and touch to have it really sink in. I should tell you the name of the book, its Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything. I tried, I tried really hard. I read then reread, examined the pictures. I waited patiently for my 'ah ha' moment. It didn't come, by the 87th page my brain hurt, I felt stupid. So I stopped. I see that book every day and night. It yells at me every time I walk by "hey! Give me another chance!” It's sits on my headboard and gathers dust. It rests on top of my illustrated version of The Di Vinci Code which is on top of my treasured 1000th issue of Rolling Stone (it has a really cool cover). I am seriously thinking of blowing the dust off and attempting to stretch my brain once again. A friend of mine read it, he had the printed version and also listened to the talking version while he read. I think that was brilliant, granted, my friend is a genius, I should know by now to follow his lead.

 

Crappy picture, but proof of not only books but also knitting. Note the needles and yarn on top of the books. It appears Bill is on top of Rolling Stone with Da Vinci on top of Bill. I was a little upside down in my memory.

I've read a few of Bill Bryson books. The first was A Walk in the Woods. I remember laughing out loud. Bill definitely has a way with words. I loved his Katz character friend. Their trials, tribulations (Twinkies or was it cupcakes?), their overall adventure. It almost made me want to try a little of the trail. Not enough to really do it, but I liked the thought. I also plowed through Lost Continent, it was funny but he had some pretty biting words for the south. I bought, opened but never finished I'm A Stranger Here Myself and last but not least The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid. I can't get out of my mind the picture of the jars stored under the sink. The jars they used to pee in, in the car, so they didn't have to waste time in the bathroom before they left for someplace. How those jars would sometimes find their way into the refrigerator filled with left over's (or was it pickles?), yikes!

I went through a big book stage a few years ago. I would hang out at Barnes and Noble, drink Starbucks, perusing the erotic aisle. Reading about stretching your throat to give great blow jobs, positions for every possible point of entry, some I didn't know about and self pleasure, all great stuff and more! I would eye the men who were brave enough to peruse along side of me, daring them to strike up a conversation. I think I might have scared them. I can't believe how brave I was then. I would stand in that aisle and read book after book on sex. Flip though the pictures, I even bought some. One was The Book of the Penis. I wanted to know everything I could about penises, I wanted to have one damn it! Another was on The Art of Erotic Writing. At that point in my life I loved to tease and tantalize with my fingertips, on a keyboard that is. I loved the idea that my imagination and words excited others. The chat rooms were perfect places to hone my craft. Men were so easy, some were actually fairly intelligent and funny. Most were God awful creeps but they were easy to weed out. Funny thing, I used to think I was the huntress, that I lured them into my trap, to have my way with. OMG how stupid am I?! I completely fell into theirs! I was the easy chick that thought she was so hot. Makes me laugh and cringe now. How could I have thought it was fun and challenging? It is a sick world out there.

I would also read free magazines (didn't have to buy, just read and put them back on the rack). I loved Vanity Fair and the Proust Questionnaire on the back page. When I didn't have a subscription I would stand in line at the grocery store turn to the back page, laugh out loud or cry inside or agree with the answers to, 'what quality to you most value in a man/ woman'? What is your idea of earthly happiness? What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? My favorite was always, 'how would you like to die'? I also discovered a magazine called Mean, it had great paper, thick and heavy, the colors were muted, and it had a smoky, sultry feel. It was for smart, creative, full of themselves people (hello? me?), I loved it. Then good old Rolling Stone and Consumer Reports. I could read all of them for free, it was fabulous.

Back to the books. After I wore out the erotic aisle, I cruised through the self help, which depressed me. Wow, it's just a bunch of crap for people who actually think they can help themselves. Seriously, all we are doing is making rich people richer, they all have their heads are up their ass and take full advantage of plastic surgery, maybe it's just botox (there go my green eyes glaring, even tho they're blue). I love the ones that give relationship advice and have been married 6 times, some of them to each other. After the self help I moved on to crafts (yeah I know, I even scared myself). I bought books on knitting and went into a knit/purl scarf making frenzy. I loved knitting, totally mindless stuff and you have a product after a few hours of not thinking. How productive is that? Then into the garden and landscape books, those were just to dream with. I want a pond and a hammock. I would be so happy.

I don't know where I lost touch with myself. I was a fairly confident person, I was ok alone, thinking I would be alone the rest of my life. I was really ok with that. Now I just feel scared. Scared that I'm not going to survive. At times just wanting everything to go away, especially myself. I can't seem to find pleasure in anything. It's all work, no play, no sleep, no release. I guess I do get little glimpses of goodness. The ones that share words with me, they are the lightning bugs in my life, they brighten my darkness just enough for me to gasp with glee for a second. Thank you…

I do love my kiddos too. They are the ones that are hanging onto me for dear life. I am hanging over a cliff and they sense that, they will not let go of me. If I let go of them they would be more pissed at me than they already are. I would carry those bad feelings to my grave, death would be far more uneasy than this life. I don't want my kids to be any sadder than they are. So I am stuck here, unless a tragic accident were to take place ( I will stay away from the stairs and make sure there is dog food downstairs). No one can ever predictthe future.

Shitake mushrooms happen.

One More Thing

Sitting at my desk that faces my bedroom window. As I type and listen to Kenny sing to me I am watching a fireworks display out my bedroom window. I love fireworks. They are a small neighborhood display. I can imagine the kiddies sitting with their parents oohing and ahhing. Fascinated that their mom and dad are capable of such delights. The teeny boppers taking their turns lighting and running like hell laughing. I miss my kids.

Anyway I decided to do another post because I was listening to a song that I always loved.The words were written for me when I was considering leaving, while I was leaving and after I left.

Leap Of Faith:

He opened the door and walked away,
Sometimes a selfless step is all it takes,
From the mountain, he can watch it all burn,
Welcome friend, to the point of no return

Once in a life, you can find a time to see,
and you get to turn it down, turn around, temporary sanity
And then the mountain disappears without a trace,
All it took, was a sudden leap of faith

(Homeward, let your spirit rise, )
Darling, I'm waiting for you
(Homeward, one step at a time)
(Homeward, watch it like a child)
When will I reach the ocean
(I'm filled with mixed emotion)
I'm waiting for you baby

How and why?
And the bough broke back to sea(?)
He was overcome, by how it happened all so easily,
And as he stood there, with the moonlight on his face,
He was stunned by a sudden leap of faith.

Darling, I'm waiting for you
(Homeward, one step at a time)
(Homeward, watch it like a child)
When will I reach the ocean,
Moving in slow motion now
(You know it's the truth)
(You've done all a man can do)

Homeward, let your spirit rise,
Homeward, one step at a time,
Homeward, watch it like a child,

my rocker is too low

Hungry or OK should be options for Mood. I'm hungry and I'm ok.

I shouldn't say he won't talk to me. I think he would be more than happy to talk to me. He just won't talk to me about what I want to talk about. Why he does the things he does or why doesn't he do the things I want him to? Who can blame him? He is a great talker, story teller, history teacher, teacher in general. He is full of words and stories. I am a great listener, we make a great pair. Unfortuately he does things that I can't understand and he won't do things with me that he does with others. I could take the whole "happy ending" excuse, he can't play, he's committed. But, he still does with others what I want him to do to me. Such stupid stuff. I wish I was a different kind of person. It's more than that tho, as the scratched and broken record keeps saying it's the honesty part I'm missing too. I am the only one with a broken heart. He is just peachy. I'm the one that took this too seriously.

The Bear is hurting. He is not doing well, I hope jail was too tramatic and he just needs a few days to recover. I am optimistic that he will be doing stairs again soon.

Great words from Bonnie Raitt:

Maybe I'm a dreamer
maybe just a fool
Lately I can hardly see the sun
If you had a secret I could take a guess
Nothin in your eyes seems to hold me
Truth or consequences
which one will it be
Someone said that time would ease the pain
Of two lives love has torn apart
But, I believe whoever wrote that song,
never had a broken heart
One of us is hiding
One of us can tell
Cause no one likes to be the first to know
Someone has to answer
Cause someone has to ask
Keeping on like this is torture
and going undecided is twice as bad for sure
Someone said that time would ease the pain
Of two lives love has torn apart
But, I believe whoever wrote that song
never had a broken heart

How sweet is this? Seriously??

 

What to do?

Defeated is more of my mood. I am defeated by life in general, I feel like I have lost the war.

How can he not miss me? How is it that he happily skips through his life without me, even as a friend?

I feel like a big part of my mind, time and many reasons to think good, happy things are gone. Was I really that dependant that it is a relief for me to have gone away?

For me the worst part of this ending is that he doesn't talk to me. It's done, over I no longer exist. Then again he already has his "happy ending" to keep him occupied. Probably a good thing for him to focus on her.

I don't know what I represented to him.

I have so much work I have to do. I am going to sit for hours, stare at my screen and only think "I wish he would call".

Never Die Young / JT words:

We were ring-around-the-rosy children
They were circles around the sun
Never give up, never slow down
Never grow old, never ever die young

Synchronized with the rising moon
Even with the evening star
They were true love written in stone
They were never alone, they were never that far apart

And we who couldnt bear to believe they might make it
We got to close our eyes
Cut up our losses into doable doses
Ration our tears and sighs

You could see them on the street on a saturday night
Everyone used to run them down
Theyre a little too sweet, theyre a little too tight
Not enough tough for this town

We couldnt touch them with a ten-foot pole
No, it didnt seem to rattle at all
They were glued together body and soul
That much more with their backs up against the wall

Oh, hold them up, hold them up
Never do let them fall
Prey to the dust and the rust and the ruin
That names us and claims us and shames us all

I guess it had to happen someday soon
Wasnt nothing to hold them down
They would rise from among us like a big baloon
Take the sky, forsake the ground

Oh, yes, other hearts were broken
Yeah, other dreams ran dry
But our golden ones sail on, sail on
To another land beneath another sky

it was 'nothing spectacular'

I just spend the past hour chronicling my day. Picking up the mutt from jail, and a few other assorted things. Then it all disappeared.

Is that a hint that I need to keep my words to myself?

Seriously, who gives a shit?

The mutt is gone

The mutt and me

The mutt is missing. I came home to a gate down, all my doors shut and locked (I keep the back door open for him to roam while I'm gone). I am trying not to panic,I think he must be downstairs where it's cooler, walk down the stairs and no mutt. Ok, I must have shut the door when I left, not thinking and left him outside, he is no where to be found. The dog is gone. I don't know what to do, who to call, do I drive around the neighborhood looking? I'm standing at my front door panicked and frozen. What the fuck else is going to happen to me?

Then 3 little boys some around my corner and ask if I got the note about my dog. No, I say, do you know where he is? They found her (he is an very old man so the thought of him being confused for a girl made me smile inside) wandering around the pond. Called the number on his tag.

We got Bear from St Francis of Assisi animal shelter. He was supposed to be a foster dog for a week-end. Our first time fostering. We had hoped to play with a puppy for a week-end, instead we got an old mutt who they named Coke because his fur was the color of coke a cola. We were disappointed but thought what the heck, he was kinda cute. He was so incredibly sweet and obedient. He was happy to be with a family and our other dogs Charlie (another incredibly sweet girl that we adopted, but, that's another story) and very very old mutt Barney (that's another story) appeared to like him, that's always a good sign. 

A friend of mine fell in love with Coke.  She couldn't take him right away so we held on to him. We became very attached to the mutt that was the "perfect" dog in every way. I told her we decided to keep him, we paid the 100 fee and renamed him Larry. He later became Bear, because he looked like Little Bear from a PBS series that we watched.

As loyal and loving as he was, he was a wanderer. He would jump the fence he become friends with several different families on his several times of jumping the fence and taking walks. Luckily with the mutt came a set of tags that had St Francis's number along with a number that will forever be attached to him. These friendly families would call, tell us that St Francis gave them our number, which they got from the dog that was laying out on their front steps. Could we please come get him?

And we would. He was always excited to see us.  I swear he would clap his paws together and laugh when we would walk up the sidewalk. I can't imagine what kind of family he had before us. He was such a great dog they had to have been good to him. I think of them as always wondering what happened to their wonderful wandering dog.

He was a costly mutt as well. After a torn tendon that cost almost 1000 bucks then a broken leg (that's another story) that was almost 1500 buck a roos, we decided this was a mutt that needed health insurance, and we purchased it. The best 26 a month we ever spent. He continued to be the wounded wandering mutt and the vet knew him well.

Bear was my dog, always at my side, obeyed and loved me unconditionally. Anyone could see it was my side he was attached to. I don't understand to this day why he chose me out of the family to love as much as he did. When I moved from my family there was no question he would come with me. As much of a pain as he is, he has been much comfort to me.

I don't know how old he is. We were told he was 2 or 3  in 2001. There is no way that mutt is 9 or 10, I swear he has to be at least 13 or 14. His eyes are cloudy, he falls down sometimes and can't get up. I keep thinking some day I will come home or wake up to a curled up permanently sleeping mutt.

We make quite the pair at the rest stops when we travel back to MN. He can't get in or out of the car himself any more. It's easy for me to get him out with me as the spotter, but the getting back in is when the team work starts. He'll eye me and I can hear him say "ok, give me a minute" pacing in circles and stopping at the back of my truck several times, looking up at me with a "are you ready" look in his eyes. I will tap the back of the truck, say "come on Bear baby we can do this". He smiles and walks to my side, I lift his front paws and move to his rear. I left his back legs and rear up and he moves forward an into the truck. Always happy there wasn't any dropping involved and relieved we did it again.

No, he's not dead. The little boys said they called the number, was given my address and they came and hung out with him for an hour, hoping I would come home. When I didn't they called the police. Officer Clayton came, found my back door open, wandered through, left a card and locked my doors, taking the mutt with him. I found his card on my dining room table. I called and talked to the woman at the front desk. She informed me the mutt was at the animal shelter which is now closed. He is spending the night in a cage, probably wondering what the hell is going on. All he did was take a little walk for Gods sake.

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Not tonight, I have a headache

I told myself I wasn't going to get caught up in words tonight. My fingertips would not be tapping keys. I also told myself I was going to start walking and lose some weight. If I listened to the things I told myself and actually did them I might be a better person.

Instead here I sit, in my kitchen (I couldn't log on to my desktop so that laptop is my mode of conversation tonight) listening to crickets and the refrigerator running (I know, I better go catch it!).

First I want to clarify something. I am not Glenn Close, not a fatal attraction stalkerish kinda gal. I may feel that way sometime but I never act it out. Too scary!

I am going to make this short. I have got to be in bed before the sun comes up. I have to be to work earlier than usual and on top of my game. Got meetings that I need to speak my piece and sound halfway intelligent.

I still ended tapping out a few thoughts, they ended up in an email.

Fate, serendipity, kismet, luck

It it just this place or isitjustme? Do I have this crazy kind of magnetic force or aura I emit that draws certain types of people to me? Or, isitjustme? At this point in my life should I accept (or believe) that everything really does happen for a reason, there are no coincidences, everything is as it should be?

Out of all the gazillions of people on the Internet why is it that I meets Johns? Not just Johns, but alcoholic ones. I consider them ex alcoholics but, apparently there isn't such a thing. Once an alcoholic always an alcoholic. Not that I have anything against alcoholics, heaven knows I attempted the 12 steps, attending the meetings, heard the horror stories. That experience helped me to realize that I have other issues, I couldn't blame my alcohol use as the cause of them, just one of the symptoms of my bigger issue, being crazy.

I felt for those folks (not me) they lived on the edge. A deep dark hole (snake pit I believe) that that teetered on the edge of every day. Some seemed so frightened of their demons, so out of control. I would walk out of those meetings feeling like a fake. I pretended I had the same demon so I could be in their club. I could relate to their fear of falling in a pit, but, my pit was different. I didn't crave alcohol, or drugs or sex for that matter (well maybe sex). My demon was my thoughts, my crazy irrational  thoughts that I couldn't control. There isn't a 12 step program for those of us who teeter on the edge of sanity, just therapy (yuck) and little pills.

I suppose I should be happy that didn't meet this John in a chat room labeled 'self pleasure'. Granted that was over three years ago and I've learned to stay away from IMing men. You gotta remember, I was new to this Internet game, I was curious, it was intriguing. I had this crazy notion that people would be honest, no one really knew anyone, no one had to hide who they really were, they could be themselves. OMG, how naive! Plus, I loved the whole erotic talk aspect of this place. I've gotten over that. It gives me the creeps now.

Back to the Johns (and one Jon, but he's different, he tells me I should only trust what I can see and feel). Not only do they have their name and alcoholism in common they are both great with their fingertips. They have a way with words and they both are very funny.  One of them is still very new to me the other is over 3 years in the making. Unfortunately my old one has run it's course. And in it's course I have learned some very hard lessons. The biggest one is not to trust. Not trust anything that I am being told, that I read, to not allow myself to be vulnerable (that's a joke, can a leopard lose it's dots [or are they spots], an old dog learn new tricks? Nope).

I used to think I was very intuitive of people, a great judge of character. I am still shocked and amazed how far off I was on my 'old' friend John. I can't trust myself to believe my thinking anymore (my 'rational' thinking). I allowed my vulnerability to cloud my judgement. Life can be so unfair at times and these past few years have taken a toll on me. I'm tired, I'm sad and I think about him all the time. I got so used to sharing my day, trials, tribulations then topping it all off with a goodnight conversation before we hopped on the sleepy train. I miss our conversations. I'm back into my non sleeping mode, watching the sky lighten with the rising sun. This is not good for my thoughts.

I am going to be optimistic because I don't want to live mistrusting the world and everyone around me. I have to believe that there are good people out there. Not that he was bad, he was very good to me in so many ways, he just couldn't be honest. He couldn't trust that I would still like him if he told me his truths. I could have, I really really could have. I know I know, get over it, move on! Shut-up!

Anywho... there is a moth on my drapes. Earlier a centipede on my desk. Yikes! I am surrounded by creatures that I can't kill. Spiders, ants, creepy crawlies that I watch until I can't see them any more. If I attempt to move them out of my sight (out of sight out of mind) by way of kleenex or a piece of paper I literally scream at the thought of them moving in my hand. I'm sure my neighbors have wondered a few times if they should call the police. Thank goodness they haven't. Then again should I be concerned? What if someone does break in and attack me? I'm screaming and they are ignoring. Even the old mutt would wonder what my problem is, he doesn't see any bugs. Plus, there might just be a pet in it for him.

Man, this journaling stuff is really self indulgent. You have to be a little full of yourself to think that others might be interested in your crap. Then again, it can be therapeutic to put crap into words. Also embarrassing, was that really me? Did I think that, did I really do that? Then again my fingertips have always had a way of talking, I was just used to sharing my words with my 'old' John. I'm sure that's one thing he doesn't miss about me. My need for sharing everything I think or want. It has to be a relief to not see my name in his in-box, my voice in his voice mail, his message machine, my texts on his phone. It has to be a relief to not listen to me say the same things over and over again, ask the same questions time and again thinking at some point I'll get the answer I want. Sounds a little psychotic huh? Even a little stalkerish, I'm not tho, obsessive, yeah, maybe.

I am so full of crap, thoughts. I think I could type forever. I should call this journal 'Jennifer's ramblings with a few rants thrown in'. Can you imagine having a conversation with me? Holy smokes!