play the hand you're dealt

I love to fly, but I hate being on the plane. I was fine until I rode on a prop plane to Key West from the Gulf Coast. It had twelve seats on it. Twelve. I was hung over, which is normal because my vacations generally start the moment I leave work. (Sometimes weekends are like that as well.) It was the most miserable flight of my life. All I could do was look through the window at the water below and realize I had absolutely no control over my surroundings. Powerlessness is not an emotion I wear well.

Now I self-medicate before stepping foot on a plane, arriving at the airport with ample time to get a few wines in my system before take-off. I might have been known to chase them with a Lortab or two. Everyone appreciates the induced coma, most especially me.

So, when I arrived home from The Mile High City I was a tad foggy. I am a notorious over packer, and had also done too much shopping. My suitcases were stuffed, and I was not looking forward to carrying the bags myself. (One reason it’s nice to travel with a man.) There were three. One for each day I was there, essentially. The first two bags come out promptly – one to go. The carousel took forever to come around, and as I waited at the opposite end, I heard the snickers follow its movement. The last of the luggage turns the corner and comes into sight. And there they were, SLOWLY, AGONIZINGLY, making their way past me. Pink panties. Pink thong panties. MY pink thong panties. Then another pair of blue thong panties. Then a shoe. The left shoe of my favorite pair of brown, wedge 4” heel sandals. The pair that I wear with almost every casual mini, match up great with jeans, and make my legs look fucking awesome.

Did I wear those panties? How many people are still watching? I sink to my heels, feign disinterest, and chuckle under my breath, hopefully conveying to those standing near me my sympathy for the poor girl who lost her panties. Do I know anyone here? Are there any cute men around? Are they period panties? How can I inconspicuously retrieve my shoe? Panties are quite replaceable. Those shoes were not. Following my personal effects comes my duffel bag, the side zipper gaping open. I cannot retrieve it either, without drawing attention to myself. I can wait for it to go to the lost luggage place and claim it there. This would reduce my humiliation to one or two airport employees who will never lay eyes on me again. I could pay to have it mailed to me. But then someone else will have to remove my possibly worn panties from the conveyor belt. Not acceptable. More importantly, there was a chance the shoe wouldn’t make it back into the bag without my attention. Wait a minute. I will never see these people again. Buck up, little bronco. I wait for the bag, and its innards, to reach the very end of the belt, rise, and march over, swiping up panties in my left hand without breaking stride, pulling the other two bags awkwardly behind me on my right. After stuffing the shoe and undergarments into the open pocket, I raise my head high and stalk out, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. I was actually quite proud of myself when I reached the car because I had forced myself to wear a slight smile, laughing at the foolishness of everyone else. Everyone has panties, what’s so humorous about these?

It wasn’t until I got home that I realized the second shoe wasn’t in the bag either.

deep sixed

I know things have been moving very fast. I took the plunge and told the other gentlemen that I was seeing someone exclusively, and that the dynamic of our relationship, or lack thereof, would have to change. (I like to be honest. And I didn't want a scene if we ran into anyone. Proactive, not reactive - that's me.) This is a big deal for me. The Agent has met the friends, my parents are aware of his existence, and Kid is enthralled with him. It's been almost 3 weeks. We had a conversation last night re Kid, and parenting. It went well. It's amazing how well he fits the mold of what I am looking for. We talk for hours. Did I mention he's trilingual? Hot.

The other gentlemen didn't take it as well as I would have liked. He told me he was happy for me, but seemed bitter, and couldn't resist throwing it in my face that I said I didn't want a relationship. I'm not sure if he was expecting an explanation, or an apology, or what. I offered neither. I am aggravated that he had the audacity to attempt a guilt trip. We had some fun times, but that was it. I never led him to belive anything more was going on - to the point of absolute bluntness. I think he was being deliberately obtuse. I am tempted to terminate the friendship entirely, but feel that would be a tad juvenile. Hopefully he'll faze himself out. Although he has shown no talent towards self-preservation thus far. No self-repecting man would behave as he has. Man up, for Chirst's sake!

water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink

The resort town I live in has a gourmet deli/grocery that opens at o'dawn thirty. It is THE place to stock up on groceries for your week in paradise, and the only grocery within walking or biking distance. Upon arrival in this lovely beach town of million dollar homes, folks make this their first stop to buy wine, cheese, and olives to be set out at "happy hour," which begins promptly on their balconies at four o'clock, even though they've been secretly sipping wine or whiskey all day. This exchange was observed by a girlfriend at 6am:

Man approaches checkout with small basket of items. Basket contains only:
1. box of super size tampons
2. 3 pack of condoms, lubricated and ribbed
3. giant bottle of Astroglide lube

Payment occurs in silence, after which he inquires, panicked, "Can you tell me where the nearest liquor store is?"

Get your vacation on, buddy.

the way to a man's heart is thru his stomach

And by stomach, I mean blow jobs.

This has to be an all time record for me. I went from a man who took five years to finally make me understand that he didn't want a lifetime committment/real relationship to a man who offers a key to the house on our two week anniversary. And I shouldn't even be calling it an anniversary, that's inane. He hasn't even met my people yet. After.Two.Weeks. I should consider this one of those red flags, I know, (and probably will, in retrospect) but I must admit, it is so nice to be with a man who isn't afraid to say what he wants. And wants the same things as I. Mostly. I told my girls, "Don't ever let me go to Vegas with him, because I will come back married." It would not take much persuasion I'm afraid, which is nuts because I never had an allfired desire or need to get married before I met him. I was quite content living my life, being single, dating around....It has been something I wanted, but in the not too distant future.

Is this what They mean when They say that a man isn't ready to committ until he meets the girl he's ready to committ to? Only I'm the guy?

an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure

I think I might be dickmatized.

curb your enthusiasm

I'm dating a guy with a foot fetish. This is a new arena for me...I'm not exactly vanilla in the bedroom, but an out and out fetish is a first, even one that is as common as that. (As I learned, having researched the subject immediately upon my discovery of his proclivities.) Everyone's tried a few new things but I wasn't really sure what to do with this one. He gave me a pedicure on our first date. He was my first experience with an orgasm from my toes, so to speak.

Funny thing was, I really started liking the guy. I don't know if it was prowess in the bedroom or the fact that, even with my experience, he introduced me to something new, but it didn't take me long to get crushed out. I'll let you know how it turns out.

UPDATE: I had no idea how many new things he would introduce me too.

all over the map

I am truly not an unhappy person. At worst, I would describe myself as content. This blog is an outlet to my rants I suppose, but overall, I am generally a cheerful kinda girl.

But there are things in my life I would like to change. Which mainly are about geography. And well within my own control, which is key to a problem/flaw's tolerability. No one to blame but myself for not doing anything about it.

But I would like to begin a campaign of positivity. My last trip has left me feeling a little depressed instead of the energized that usually occurs. And I cannot pinpoint why. I should be happy, having finally decided on a destination for my relocation. Perhaps it is the knowledge that I am not as close as I should be to crossing all the items off my list that must be crossed before I can actively start planning. Realizing how far away I am from it. And the buckle tightening that will have to occur to get there. Which means no more trips for a while.

It could be the realization, again, that I am not in a position to begin any type of relationship with anyone. My recent efforts have been testament to that, although I have tried to blame it on the fact that I haven't met anyone worth the effort. (I'll still go with a combination of the two, for my psyche's sake.)

More specifically, the realization that once again I will have to break things off with The Ex? How do you break up with someone you're not really with? Can I just phase him out? Is that acceptable? Don't I owe him more than that? Just because other people don't have manners doesn't mean my momma didn't raise ME better than that.

It's hard to come back to the real world.

So much for the campaign.

an open letter to men who want to date me

When we are in the beginning stage of "dating." When we are talking, and IM'ing daily. When we don't yet know each others' routine schedules. When it's not assumed that we'll see each other every weekend. When we are still slowly trying to figure out if we like each other enough. Don't ask me repeatedly "So when am I going to see you again?"

Ask me out. For a date.

Have an actual day in mind and a specific activity to suggest. Especially when, in the interest of fairness, I have already volunteered one or two days in the near future that I am available. I know it's difficult to put yourself out there. But really? Could I make this any easier for you - aside from telling you EXACTLY when, where and how? Is it because I'm from the South that I expect this? That the man, at least intially, take the reins in hand and make things happen? It doesn't bode well for the bedroom - or the boardroom- if you cannot even ask me to dinner. Or cocktails. Or a movie, or a play, ANYTHING.

And if you have a specific date in mind, and have come through with an activity and a plan, it is still not acceptable to phone someone six times within a three hour period, leaving an almost identical message each time, to extend said invitation.

Seriously?

My friend from down south sent me this. She is a doctor, my age, beautiful, personable, fun, etc., etc. She chatted with a man (six years older but from the same hometown) when he came in for an examination (she's an eye doctor kind of) that took about an hour.

After he left, she received this from him at her work email. Let me reiterate to you, this is for real. Parens are mine.


Hi (friend from down south),

I was surprised (he spelled it wrong) that you got all dressed up for my appointment on Monday. Its funny how women in doctors offices are always trying to impress me. On to my point in writing you, since I was feeling a bit dizzy when I left your office I didn’t have a chance to get your phone number. I wanted to see if you have anything going for you besides your good looks? Maybe we could meet up for coffee or a drink and see if you can hold my attention. My number is blah blah blah so call me, but if youre too shy drop me an email at blah ablah

To add insult to insult, she said he's not even cute.

these boots are made for walking, part two

I don’t think he ever believed I would actually move out. We had been together for over five years, living and sometimes working together. I told him “I just think there’s something better out there for both of us,” and I meant it. He resented that my schedule was so demanding. I didn’t like how much he drank and hung out with his friends. The last “hurricane party” was a real eye opener. Being cooped up in a house with him and his closest friends and relatives for almost a week with nothing to do but drink, with no electricity and virtually no mobility, was sheer hell. It provided a horrifying illustration of what our future would look like, what our life would continue to be. I wanted a partner, not a drinking buddy.

I told him that I was looking at apartments. I knew that to him, the fact that I had actively been looking at places would be a form of betrayal, abandonment, but I also knew I couldn’t continue to live with him as if the status quo was still intact. Even after everything, I still had respect for him, and couldn’t be deceitful, which is what it would have felt like. And to be honest, I was hoping it would jolt him into realizing how bad things had gotten, that this wasn’t something he could ignore until he felt like dealing. He didn’t have much to say. We spoke for a while about where we had gone wrong and how we had failed one another. There were no protestations, no requests that we try to work on things. I squared my shoulders; I had gotten my answer.

A few days later, I let him know I had put a deposit down on an apartment and would be moving in three weeks. (I was STILL prepared to abandon that deposit should he man up and decide the relationship was worth saving. It wouldn’t have taken much - at that point I would’ve settled for an effort of any kind.) He stayed out that night, and when we spoke the next day he said he didn’t want to ruin his day off by talking about anything important.

Hurt, I only spent two nights there over the next three weeks, until the day I moved out. I stayed with girlfriends, my parents, anyone who would let me. I came home on the two nights I couldn’t make other arrangements for my daughter. Those two nights were the only nights we really fought throughout the entire wreckage.

About a year later, a mutual friend and neighbor told me that he had spoken with her during that three weeks about our situation. She quoted him as saying, “Sugar Kane will never leave. She has it too easy here.” He assumed that it was all a bluff, and never believed I was moving until the truck pulled into the driveway and I showed up with my two helpers. When I stopped coming home, he was taken aback because there was no opportunity to talk to me and straighten me out. When I was there we fought over where I had been and what I was/ had been doing wrong. I took the stance that he had abandoned the right to ask those questions or have an opinion.

Guess he didn’t know me as well as he thought.

battin' your eyes like a toadfrog in a hailstorm

So I’m back from my date.

I drove to his house, like an idiot, and let him cook dinner for me. The initial meeting was a bit awkward as 1) he is under 5’8” and I am every bit of 5’10” and 2) we were both sober. Which didn’t last very long. At least for him.

He let me into the house, we hugged after a moment, and went into the kitchen for me to watch him finish dinner. He opened a bottle of wine (Riesling), and we made idle chit chat while dinner cooked in the oven. Ate dinner (enchiladas that were fantastic), opened another bottle of wine (Sauvignon Blanc) and talked for a while longer, then played Texas Hold ‘Em heads up. This was the most enjoyable part of the evening, as he knows much more than I do about the game and took the time to give me tips on strategy. We opened another bottle of wine (at this point who cares what kind), which wasn’t such a good idea, as we could both tell he was getting a little tipsy.

Good: He likes to talk. I like to listen. Idle chit chat is not my forte.
Bad: It’s mostly typical flyboy stuff: his work, the military, etc. And he uses lingo that I cannot understand as I am NOT, nor have I ever been, in the military.

Good: He lives alone, in a real house, with real furniture, and has pretty nice things. You can tell he’s not afraid to spend money on the things that he wants.
Bad: Having that much disposable income could be a sign of a lack of creativity with which to spend it. And the majority of the decoration on the walls was military commendations and family pictures.

Good: He is attentive. He calls and IMs frequently.
Bad: He can be pushy and confrontational, and needs things defined for him. Definitely lacks finesse in interpersonal relationships. Too much, too soon.

Good: He's not a drunk or an alcoholic like so many men I meet/date. I would always have a designated driver.
Bad: He doesn't drink much at all. I could not really bring him around my friends - any of them. It would put a crimp on my social life. Who wants to be the drunk?

While I found him fairly attractive, I have zero intention of starting anything serious right now. My plan is to hang out with him until he begins to get on my nerves, and then cut him loose. I think I should feel guilty for that.

Off the deep end

Well, I am off to my first match.com meet. Against eveyone else's better judgement I am letting him cook dinner for me tonight. I know, I know, should be a public place, etc. but I've spoken with him every day for two weeks now, and we've been in contact for a month. I have no qualms about him being a rapist or serial killer. They also say to trust your gut, and I feel fine about this. He's an officer in the military, has normal hobbies, a detailed myspace page, and when I googled him I got non-criminal links. It will be fine.

However, if I don't post by tomorrow, send someone to my match.com account to find him. I'm just sayin'.

TMI Tuesdays

1. Early bird or night owl?
Both. I love to get up early, especially on vacation or if I have some where to go besides work that day. But I love the nightlife as well. Things get interesting for me when the sun goes down.

2. If you could only be one, would you rather be smart or good looking?
Definitely smart. Smart people can be more attractive with help. There’s no way to add brains. Also, smartness lasts longer than beauty. We keep out mental faculties a lot longer than our physical attributes. But I thank God every day I wasn’t born with neither.

3. Do you gossip?
Of course. But I try not to repeat things I don’t have first hand knowledge of, whether good or bad. You lose credibility that way from repeating inaccuracies.

4. On a scale of 1-10, how adventurous are you? (1 is lowest, 10 is highest)
Probably a 7.5. I am not scared of many things, but I am very careful to be aware of my inability to do something. If I were a little less fearful about lack of abilities causing me to fail at something I might try a few more things.

5. On a scale of 1-10, how good a kisser do you think you are? (ditto)
8-9, definitely. At least according to others. 

Bonus (as in optional):What do you consider the biggest turn on out of the following? a) lingerie b) movies c) toys d) role playing e) leather f) none of this does anything for me.

Toys. Any guy who is willing to use things with/on/near me is sexy as hell, just for not feeling intimidated or that “he should be enough.” Having to stroke a guy’s ego over that bullshit I am no longer interested in. Plus it’s fun to experiment with new stuff, and find what works and what doesn’t. It creates intimacy as well.

Even money

Bad things that happened this weekend (in no specific order):

1. Did not get one scrap of housework done;
2. Caught a cold;
3. Sunday afternoon date stood me up/rescheduled;
4. Received several texts and calls from The Ex who was at an NFL game he a) had previously invited me to attend with him, b) went without me without even mentioning it, and c) then texted me from the game to tell me to look for him on TV. Bastard.


Good things that happened this weekend (in no specific order):

1. I have found a permanent home for watching NFL this season that enables me to watch every game simultaneously without spending every Sunday inside a bar;
2. Had a productive talk with my daughter about her weight;
3. Vegas trip got cancelled (yes that’s a good thing);
4. Had great conversation with my new roomie, Best Friend – I think having a roommate is actually going to work;
5. Ignored each of said texts and phone calls from The Ex. Quite liberating.


I have been reading over this blog and realize that I have spent entirely too much time on The Ex. I really don't spend that much thought on him outside the blog (anymore), but for some reason he keeps popping up. I'll try to come up with some more interesting topics in the future. Promise.

Trust everybody, but cut the cards

I love to travel. My motto is “If I haven’t been there, I want to go.” (If you have a catchier one, please share it with me.) This is why I work two jobs: one for career advancement, and one to keep me in the lifestyle to which I’ve become accustomed. Hey, no one else is doing it! The Ex was my first consistent travel buddy. I went on his first flight with him, an overnighter to Oklahoma for no good reason. I like to think I turned him on to the concept of travel for the sake of travel. (That’s one thing I don’t understand about a lot of people – they have to have a reason to go somewhere. I like to choose a place to go, then find an event to attend or something to do.) He liked to go out of town, but not as much as me. I was always trying to convince him to go somewhere. We eventually took a cruise together, and that did it – we went a lot more places after that. I was the organizer, finding hotel options and game tickets and show venues, and he would give the final OK. But I always had a sneaking suspicion he agreed more for bragging rights than a desire to see or experience anything new. To him, “jet setting” was part of the lifestyle he wished others to believe he could afford. That he COULD afford it is a moot point.

My main challenge now when planning trips is companionship. I enjoy traveling alone, but I enjoy more being able to be alone when traveling with someone else. I like to have options. The trip to Lake Tahoe was perhaps the most perfect case study for this type of thing. Three friends, traveling together, who spent the majority of time away from one another. And still came home with raucous, unbelievable stories and the “what happens in Tahoe stays in Tahoe” mentality.

My friends, as previously mentioned, are mostly attached, with husbands and children (small children at that). They cannot break away as easily as I. So when they plan a trip to Sin City sans children, I am desperate to go. It’s not the best idea for me financially right now, in fact probably a bad idea altogether, but if I don’t tag along, it will be another year before we can all do something like this again. And I do love me some Sin City.

I need a vacation from my vacation.

It will take me most of the week to recuperate. I'm always glad to come home after a trip; three or fours days is the perfect length for me. Any longer than that I begin to get antsy, and then the recovery time takes even longer. I just can't seem to get comfortable in my own skin until days after my return. The return to normal doesn't settle in, even though I am always ready to get back to my "real" life. OK, time to move on, and start planning for the next one. Which, thankfully, is only three weeks off. Yey!

these boots are made for walking, part one

I left my husband because of a Tracy Chapman song.

Mine is an old story: older man/younger girl with daddy issues, dated for a while (which is an entirely separate post), lived together briefly, got knocked up, and then a shotgun wedding WAY before I should have even been considering marriage. I knew in my heart that it wasn’t forever, but I never thought it would be me who walked out. I always assumed he would eventually get fed up with the whole project. But what else is one to do? I was morally opposed to abortion but too immature and insecure to insist on my boyfriend using protection, a combination that produced the inevitable result. When he told me he wanted to get married if I was going to have the baby (his version of a proposal) and I knew it was a dealbreaker, it didn’t leave me with a lot of options. I couldn’t risk that Mom and Dad would separate themselves from me any further by asking for their help, and I wasn’t confident in my ability to survive on my own with a baby. The Lobbyist says I always do things the hard way, but it never seems that way at the time. I thought I was taking the easy way out.

The relationship took the usual turn. After the Hurricane I couldn’t do physical labor rebuilding, and had no real marketable skills or way to procure decent employment for the few months until the birth, even had anyone been hiring. (I did take a little part time work gift wrapping at a local department store for the holiday season.) He worked two jobs, for little money, and thank God for his parents who allowed us to live rent and bill free in their 2nd home. We did OK though, Mom gradually came around at the thought of a grandchild, and three days after she was born I was at the college registering, and six weeks later I was back to work full time. I was never cut out to be a house wife/stay at home mom (I would argue a mom at all) and eagerly jumped back into the work force. He was ready to take it easy after six months of supporting us both.

My mind turned to the future and our careers. He went to college, taking classes here and there, and I encouraged him to focus on something he wanted to do instead of working just to pay the bills. I had watched my father’s misery while he held a job only to keep the family in the lifestyle he had always provided, and I swore I would never live that way or allow my spouse to either. If he had to take an entry level position to get in somewhere, then so be it - I was making decent money. We didn’t lack for anything, so he took his time finding a job and I didn’t pressure him. Then I wasn’t making such good money, and we were lacking for things, and he still didn’t get a job. Then I got a second job, and he still didn’t get a job. Then I left.

I wish I could say that was the whole story, but it wasn’t. There was some emotional infidelity on my part, some drug use on his, and we were just roommates who rarely even spoke for over a year. (Oh, but I continued to have sex with him, because I didn’t know how to tell him no.) I begged him to go to marriage counseling, but he said we couldn’t afford it. When he wasn’t working. Looking back, I can’t remember when it started or how or why we disintegrated and now it does seem to have happened rather rapidly. We were only married 2 ½ years before separating. He thought I cheated on him for real, which wasn’t happening. Then he thought my (female) best friend and I were lovers, which was ridic. (Why is it that men cannot believe that sometimes you just don’t want to be with THEM? There doesn’t have to be anyone else.) I had been weighing my options, agonizing over should I stay or should I go. Then I was in the car, the radio was on and I heard it,

“Leave tonight or live and die this way.”

I was in my car that day, on my way to work that night, with a laundry basket full of clothes and nothing else. He followed me out to my car and just asked, “You’re not coming back are you?” I mutely shook my head. I had been hoping to have that conversation over the phone. (I already owned up to my immaturity.) He hadn’t seen me sneaking out of the house with the laundry. He just knew. I knew.

It took him two days to get a job. Then he began the campaign to “woo” me back.

Man, if you have to ask what it is, you’ll never know

I am leaving on a jet plane. Friday, to be concise, for an extended weekend visiting an old friend. Labor Day weekend is the second biggest jazz festival (second to nola, so I'm told) in the Windy City and I am on yet again another recon mission.

I know it is not feasible for me to move to Chicago. Or D.C., Seattle, or Denver, or any other places I have been visiting. But I want to experience these places, and see more of the country and that's as good an excuse as any other. I know in my heart I'll end up in the Dallas area, or somewhere in TX, but I'm not nearly as excited about that as I used to be. And I am ever more reluctant to leave my daughter, even as a maybe. But the thought of being here almost another decade while she finishes school is heart wrenching. Which is worse? Leaving her behind, or suffering silently for a total of 20 years? Can I really let my 30s pass me by without fulfilling any of the things I want to do for ME? Some would say that's what I signed on for when I became a mom, but I don't agree. I think that's what's wrong with kids nowadays. Before, parents made their decisions and expected the kids to acclimate themselves to it. Not so anymore.

(quiet reflection)

But I can't be responsible for my child's unhappiness, and if that means staying here, then I will. God, that's depressing.

Don't believe everything you read.

So my faith in all that is American has been attacked today.

To sum up: A friend of mine (more of an acquaintence) was allegedly involved almost a week ago in a domestic violence situation. Nevermind the fact that I read about it in the newspaper - leading me to AGAIN question the quality of my friendship with my "close friends" - but the newspaper got it all wrong, and I know this without even talking to The Accused.

The specific facts aren't important for the purposes of this post, but here are the basics: The Accused's daughter, the one making the report, has a history of poor choices (read: ignorant. Did I mention ignorant?), the most recent of which includes - at age 20- "He said I couldn't get pregnant in a pool." Two and 1/3 kids later, she continues to smoke meth and pot, drink, and then blame "being kneed in the stomach" for the miscarriage. Which no one except the police believes for a minute ever happened. The Accused weighs about a buck soaking wet and smokes a good amount of weed herself, a pastime not known to inpsire much violence, or activity for that matter. I've been around her stoned more often than not, and she's pretty much the silent, giggly type. Not to mention that she wouldn't hurt a fly.

She's not a typical or ideal mother/wife/etc. though and I wonder if that's why, in this backwoods town in the Bible-belt, below the Mason-Dixon line, the "authorities" were so quick to believe the charges. To wit: owns her own home independent of a husband (a rarity in these parts), is a Wiccan, got herself out of an abusive marriage, lost a husband to a drug addiction, and has helped raise, and provide for, her two grandchildren while having a tween of her own. She may not be the poster woman for good clean living, but she has a job, supports her family, and gets along as best she can.

My "come to Jesus" moment happened when I realized how much is left out of one seemingly benign newspaper article. (Benign if it isn't your reputation being maligned.) Where is the reponsible reporting? There was a witness to the entire incident, who was interviewed BY THE POLICE and reported TO THE POLICE that the charges were a falsity almost in their entirety. The newspaper never even contacted her OR The Accused. Granted, the article was true per se in that it covered the original police report, but isn't there an obligation to at least try to get all the facts? Not to mention the fact that the daughter saw a doctor ONE DAY PRIOR to the "incident" who told her that the baby was not viable and she would have to come in for a DNC if nature did not take its course over the weekend. Another doctor at the hospital even stated that he could not confirm the miscarriage happened as a result of the allegations. Where then does the newspaper get the headline," ...woman charged after injuring pregnant daughter, causing miscarriage." (emphasis added)

Add this to the background: The daughter is/was/who knows dating a man - who may or may not be the father -who was shot LAST WEEK and claimed he just thought it was a stomachache. This is six months after he was cleared for shooting a man IN MY APARTMENT COMPLEX in the back in "self-defense." I live in a nice place made up of mostly retirees and military personnel, in a nice town (pun intended) and that's by anyone's standards. Let me be clear: this is a small town, and these things do not happen everyday. This stuff makes headlines and the front pages.

And no one will care, because they will read that she isn't monied, affluent or whatever, and say that where there's smoke there's fire and that she has had legal troubles in the past, and condemn her based on her lifestyle and choices. Innocent until proven guilty, my friends. It's a shame that sounds so trite; no one believes it anymore.

I know, I'm a deadbeat blogger.

I haven't been inspired to write anything of late, and not having a computer at home makes timing problematic.

Until now....

If work was fun, the rich people would keep it to themselves.

I am so happy that I am not a negative person that has to: take the smallest imagined insult and multiply it by 50 (out of sheer boredom ?); spend my life imagining ways people have wronged me and convincing others of my superiority to them; stand uselessly in co-workers office doors gossiping about one liner "affronts" which could only be construed as such by someone with an inordinate amount of time on their hands with which to create strife and drama; analyze every minutiae of the day ascribing hidden meaning and negativity to every look, comment, and action by those around me.

Don't worry, be happy. I love my work, but being around people does make it trying.

Good on paper

Amazing how much things can change in six weeks. It's been about that long since I last posted, and many changes. Nothing monumnetal, generally just an attitude shift on my own part.

I haven't spoken to FWB since the trip to The City I Might Move To. He was MIA for airport cocktails and has since taken up with another lady (and I use that term loosely). I am happy for him, enough anyway, but also almost wish that it bothered me. What DOES bother me is the fact that he just dropped off the face of the planet, without so much as an explanation or a "Hey I met someone else and I want to see where it goes." Anything. It is simply confirmation that he lacks character, which is the central reason I didn't want to get involved with him seriously in the first place. Enough of that, I just thought an explanation would be appropriate.

I have met a prospect, last Thursday, but the lack of a phone call since does not seem promising. Tomorrow will be a week. Is it normal to wait that long? Who knows how they do things in the "real world." Match.com has also yielded a few meager prospects, but nothing that panned into anything remotely interesting. I am remembering now why I concluded when I attempted online dating the first time that one must live near a metropolis area for match to be successful. Sure, there are exceptions, but I hesitate to spend a lot of time on such a long shot. Not having a computer at home proves challenging as well.

Finances: going well. Staying on track for the most part, but slowly getting where I need to be.

Theme right now is the post heading. I am concentrating on making myself attractive on paper, and happy with myself financially, physically, and mentally. I think if I can master two of them, the other will fall in line behind. Not that I am unhappy now, quite the opposite. I am encouraged by my progress so far (complete blackout of The Ex, emphasis on financial reponsibilty, focus on health, etc.) and eager to see how far I can ride this wave. Now if I could only find a way to force myself out of bed every morning to go to the gym at 5am....

My fortune today:

"The current year will bring you much happiness." Sweet! I needed a little pick me up!

Don't use a lot where a little will do

First Thursday Email to FWB re: Upcoming Trip

(I am leaving Friday-Monday to go Out of Town to A City I Might Move To. Coincidentally, he will be flying into the same City on Monday for business. We will miss each other at the airport Monday by about 4 hours. Best Friend is traveling with me, but leaving from the Local Airport on Saturday.)

"I want you to take my car to the Local Airport on Monday when you leave, and park it there, so that Best Friend will have a vehicle when she gets off the plane Monday night.

So the plan is: I will leave the restaurant tonight, around 10pm and go home, cleaning my car on the way (that only means getting the trash out). After I go shopping in Lulu's closet and pick up my swimsuit from The Blonde's house - stops which both include an obligatory glass of wine - I will pack, which of course I have not even started, and don't even think I have a big enough suitcase. Then I will tidy my house, just b/c it's nicer to come home that way, and come over to your house, luggage and tickets in hand. Mind you, I plan to start drinking at the restaurant. We will have cocktails and maybe some lovin! I have to be still drunk when I get on the plane in the morning or I will have a panic attack. (Note to self: pack Lortabs.)

In the morning, my plane leaves The Airport at o'dawn thirty. We should leave two hours prior to o'dawn thirty? I have no idea what traffic will be like or really how far the airport is. Truth be told, I don't even know where the airport is. I will leave you my spare car key, which you will then use to drive my car to the Local Airport on Monday morning, leaving the key in the vehicle and unlocked and with relatively clear instructions on how to locate it. Btw, what time are you getting into The City? I had my and Best Friends' reservations mixed up - she leaves The City at 330 and I leave at 1pm. Bummer! Hopefully your plane will arrive early enough to meet up anyway. Best Friend will get on the plane to the Local Airport on Monday at 330, find my car, and drive to my house. I sure like to make things difficult don't I."

Second Thursday Email to FWB re: Eff That

"OK, I thought it through again and that is way too complicated. I'll just take my car to The Airport and leave it there. That way, I can pick Best Friend up b/c her flight gets in after mine regardless. Parking can't be that expensive, and it will save someone having to get me Monday night.

Blast it. I was looking forward to the company on the drive over.

....and I can still come over tonight....;-)"

One lost, ten found

Or when it rains it pours. I have a strong suspicion that men are subconsciously tuned in to the availability of a woman. It is uncanny. The word “exclusive” had barely left my lips and I was receiving dinner invitations, getting hit on in bars, and having random men ask for my phone number in record numbers. And not the type of men who I regularly attract, either. We’re talking “underwear model, high school quarterback hot.”*

And this new popularity is inclusive of men I already know. There are a few guys in my day to day life for whom I carry a small, minute torch** but nothing will (probably) ever happen. These men as well are drawn to the sense, or scent, or innate aura a woman who is unavailable carries instinctively.

My conscience dictated a return to the un-exclusive status quo with Friends-with-benefits. Things were moving too far, and I didn’t want to lead him on. I liked things to be “breezy.” The reality of it is this: every time I have been exclusive with a man it has been because I didn’t want to be with anyone else. In the beginning of a relationship, the honeymoon period if you will, the couple should find themselves actively not dating anyone else, and then make the decision together to continue not dating anyone else. I don’t believe monogamy is natural for most people. I think AT FIRST it is natural, and then it becomes a conscious decision you make ALL THE TIME. With this guy, I was still looking. And still am. I was not prepared for him to ask for more.

In gearing up for the conversation, a mere ten days after the wedding when The Declaration was initially made, it occurred to me that I hadn’t been that flustered or discombobulated about anything in eons. I seized the opportunity to act as a real, grown up and mature woman, had three glasses of wine, and told him that our arrangement “chafed” a little bit. He took it well. I didn’t lose the benefits, and it made me appreciate that he actually is dialed into my personality more than most of my SOs ever have been. And that includes the time I was married. The irony is that I haven’t slept with anyone else since his permanent return from The Sandbox. This is the most monogamous I’ve been in two years. I just want to keep my options open.

*not that attractive men don’t normally hit on me, but I usually gravitate away from the traditionally attractive types

** because I genuinely enjoy their company even when I know nothing will ever happen due to a work relationship, being in the friend zone, lack of compatibility, lack of chemistry, etc. But It’s always on the table with those types, because you must have mutual respect for any real companionship, right?

I enjoy convalescence. It is the part that makes the illness worth while.

Well, I'm happy to report that I am feeling well and back at work. The Lortabs have a lot to do with that.

I had surgery last Wednesday in which they removed some foreign stuff and some natural stuff from my boob. Mom took excellent care of me. Screw birthdays and special occasions - the true mark of loyalty is bringing pot roast and camping in the guest room at Mom's house with me! You'd have thought somebody died. The procedure was last minute and came as a surprise. Morphine rocks.

The damage to my person is negligible and I do not believe any cosmetic work will be necessary. Which is good, because I kind of like them the way they are. We'll see how everything heals up. At the least I have a new battle wound, but unless I begin a new career as a stripper, I'm OK with that. By the time anyone really gets to it up close and personal, I figure the point will be moot. Although I know it is vain, I am just a little concerned with the circle of scars around my areola.

The doc removed a walnut size portion of tissue and stuff, and I look a little "deflated" on that side, but I'm hoping that will....fill in. To tell the truth, I have more cleavage at this instant than ever since breastfeeding, but alas that too is a phase I'm sure.

This was my first major surgery and first time under anesthesia. I rate it an 8 on a scale of 10, 10 being the best things could have gone when you are forced to go under the knife:
1.) The hospital and staff was FANTASTIC. I can’t say enough good things about them. The doctor brought me blankets! The. Doctor. Himself. Asked me if I was comfortable, brought me blankets and then bundled me up in them.
2.) There was not nearly as much residual pain as one would have expected, even in the immediate aftermath at the hospital. And the doctor gave me a script for painkillers that will last me a year, even recreationally.* Frankly, I can barely tell I had the surgery at all. I hope the doc didn’t sever some nerve endings that should have been left well enough alone.
3.) There wasn’t QUITE as much coddling as I would’ve liked, only because I’m the type that has to have coddling forced upon her. (Once it’s clear you’re going to do it, then that’s that however.) But the lack of a SO makes the coddling a non-issue I suppose – there is no one there to do it. Friends-with-benefits was out of town on business from the initial scheduling, procedure and recovery. It is a mixed blessing, because I am not sure I would have wanted him hanging about, but if he hadn’t wanted to take care of me I would have been offended.**
4.) My boss told me to take many days off of work to recuperate – not counting against vacation days I hope – and I laid in my bed for five days straight until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
5.) My girlfriends were great and checked on me frequently, as did The Ex and Friends-with-benefits, as well as folks at both jobs. The care and concern expressed for me was almost worth it.
6.) I have a “hall pass” for anything I want in the next week. While I will try not to abuse this right, it will be a struggle not to play the sympathy card.

*which I have been taking primarily out of boredom

**he cannot win with me. That seems to be a recurring theme in my relationships with boys.

Time will tell

I am shocked that I have a reader! Longer post to explain my absence coming hopefully today....

Happiness is not a destination. It is a method of life.

I have fabulous friends.

Some background: By a fairly large margin, I am the youngest in The Circle. There is considerable history between everyone in the group as it has evolved over decades, always ebbing and flowing, but as others came and went, the core has remained significantly constant. I count myself incredibly lucky to have found these women at a relatively young age. Each and every one of them will be a companion joining me on the porch swing in our old(ish) age, watching grandkids run around and husbands….hell, who cares what they are doing, really. That’s one thing I love about my girls: They are their own person, with or without the husband and children. They each know their value and worth as an individual. It is actually amazing that a group of women with such strong personalities can get along so well. Don’t mistake – there are occasional clashes, and fireworks ensue. But we get over it quick like, after cooling off periods. The best part is we each have our own lives and thus cannot get too wrapped up in each others, but when the “call to arms” comes, we flock.

The menfolk took the kids fishing on Sunday while the women went to the beach for some girl time. The dads are friends and are quite frequently together on the weekends, doing manly things like fishing and golfing. It doesn’t happen very often that many of us can get the same down time, because usually the women have the kids – this is still the South, and that’s how things are done ‘round here. So with this golden opportunity, spur of the moment, we went to the beach armed with chairs, tanning accelerator, and a bag of wine: Lulu, Lulu’s college age daughter The Student, The Blonde, Rosebud and myself.

I think I talked too much, but remember – very strong personalities require a little aggressiveness at times. And usually I hang back, and observe, because that’s what I’m most comfortable with. We spoke of religion, our relationship with our parents and immediate families, cosmetic surgery, theories on men, The Student’s success at school, and everything else under the sun. The Blonde, who is dealing with some serious issues in her life to include marital issues, her father dying, and becoming a grandmother (even though she’s GILF all day long), told us that for her, the day amounted to a serious breakthrough akin to a therapy session. Someone should tell her husband that us taking her for drinks is a lot cheaper than seeing a shrink, and kills two birds with one stone besides. Reading back over that, it doesn’t seem to be a very relaxing day, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

After the beach, we met the menfolk with the kids at Lulu’s house and had a fish fry. We watched video of the kids on the boat that morning, played peacemaker between all the toddlers, made plans for our annual trip to Vegas, drank some beers, and generally enjoyed each others’ company. It could not have been a better day.

We make our fortunes and we call them fate

As I was growing up, my father used to read his Bible every day before leaving for work. He would stand, not sit, for just a few minutes a day over a table in the living room where the worn, black leathered book lay, always open. Sometimes he would start from the beginning and read all the way through, one chapter at a time. Other times he would randomly open to a page and begin reading, trusting in divine intervention to provide the passage. When I was a teenager I mimicked that practice, not out of any religious fervor but from a blind faith in…serendipity? I would read religious passages at random, taking from them what I could, although most of it I didn’t appreciate.

Horoscopes are much the same. I am sure there are people who believe that the weekly –or daily - horoscope in the neighborhood newsstand rag holds the secrets to their love life, professional success, or whatnot. The monthlies in magazines like Vogue or Cosmo are fun to read, even if one doesn’t attribute any cosmic force behind them. But I am a firm believer that you get from something exactly what you put into it. I was reading in order to glean insight into either an everyday occurrence or life changing decision. As a youth there aren’t too many life changing decisions, but I found it provoked thought both comforting and deliberate. A novice’s answer to meditating. For instance, if you read in an online horoscope, “News about some past personal history may surprise you, and perhaps even upset you for a short time,” as mine says today, you might ponder on where the news might come from, or prompt a muse on a recent regret. Like spending the weekend with an Ex when you know it will put you several strides back in your “moving on with my life” marathon. The best thing about horoscopes is that you can interpret them any way you choose and conduct yourself accordingly. I think it gives me a little push into becoming more of the person I want to be, or at least knowing myself better.

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results

There is a lot to be said for being the one who is loved more, as opposed to the one who loves the most in a relationship, even a pretend one like I have with The Ex. There is always an imbalance. Sometimes it shifts, but there is always one person more committed, or more obssessed, who wants more than the other person can or is willing to give. I don't believe it is most likely to be the woman, either. We are more likely to hand over our hearts multiple times, while a man will let a woman crush him only once before he learns his lesson. (Mind you, these are meant to be very general statments.) I know more than one man who cannot let go once a woman has gotten him "hooked." And I have always been in awe of the woman who can make every man they get involved with fall in love. The leave-your-wife, ignore-your-friends, obsessive, change-my-whole-existence, can't-survive-without-your-love, Angelina-Jolie mojo.

I am the type who can walk away from a relationship. Once I make the decision to be finished with it, I am. No looking back. Two years later, I looked back. The view hasn't changed one bit.

Never judge a book by its movie

Does it matter if I didn't finish it? Some of these I only read enough to know I couldn't finish them. Or it just didn't catch my interest and I put the book down, never to return. I really should just read one at a time, but I like to have choices.

I "borrowed" the list but as I've seen it on several different blogs, I assumed it would be ok. Those in bold are the ones I have read. Granted, it may have been twenty years ago, but that's irrelevant.

1. The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown), Deception Point
2. Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
3. To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
4. Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell) should've left it at that and not tried a sequel
5. The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (Tolkien)
6. The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (Tolkien)
7. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (Tolkien)
8. Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery)
9. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
10. A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry) thanks Chicago for turning me on to this one
11. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Rowling)
12. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)
13. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Rowling)
14. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
15. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
16. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Rowling)
17. Fall on Your Knees (Ann-Marie MacDonald)
18. The Stand (Stephen King)
19. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Rowling)
20. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
21. The Hobbit (Tolkien)
22. The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
23. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
24. The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
25. Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
26. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
27. Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
28. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
29. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
30. Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)
31. Dune (Frank Herbert)
32. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
33. Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand) along with everything she's ever written, including essays
34. 1984 (Orwell)
35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)
37. The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
38. I Know This Much is True (Wally Lamb)
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant)
40. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
41. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
42. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
43. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)
44. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)
45. Bible
46. Anna Karenina (Tolstoy)
47. The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
48. Angela's Ashes (Frank McCourt)
49. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
50. She's Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
51. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
52. A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens)
53. Ender's Game (Orson Scott Card), Ender's Shadow
54. Great Expectations (Dickens)
55. The Great Gatsby (Fitzgerald)
56. The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Rowling)
58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
59. The Handmaid's Tale (Margaret Atwood)
60. The Time Traveller's Wife (Audrey Niffenegger) unbelievable
61. Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
62. The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)
63. War and Peace (Tolstoy)
64. Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice) to numerous to list - Exit to Eden was wild!
65. Fifth Business (Robertson Davis)
66. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
67. The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants (Ann Brashares)
68. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
69. Les Miserables (Hugo)
70. The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
71. Bridget Jones' Diary (Fielding) started it several times but could never get invested
72. Love in the Time of Cholera (Marquez)
73. Shogun (James Clavell)
74. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
75. The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
76. The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)
77. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)
78. The World According To Garp (John Irving)
79. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
80. Charlotte's Web (E.B. White)
81. Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
82. Of Mice And Men (Steinbeck)
83. Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier)
84. Wizard's First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
85. Emma (Jane Austen)
86. Watership Down (Richard Adams)
87. Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
88. The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
89. Blindness (Jose Saramago)
90. Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
91. In The Skin Of A Lion (Ondaatje)
92. Lord of the Flies (Golding)
93. The Good Earth (Pearl S. Buck)
94. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
95. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum) The Bourne Supremacy and The Bourne Ultimatium
96. The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)
97. White Oleander (Janet Fitch) you must read this book before seeing the movie, if at all
98. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)
99. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)
100. Ulysses (James Joyce)

Drunken words are sober thoughts

I am completely inept at this dating thing. Please, let me tell you my troubles that you may advise me in the ways of the world.

This is what I do: I "date" unsuitable men, usually in a friends with benefits situation, until I fall bass ackwards into a relationship before I even recognize it - with varying degrees of success (read: failure), from a pregnancy and ill fated marriage, to a 5 year relationship that should have never gotten off the ground to begin with. This time it's not my fault. Damn my good looks and charming personality!

My "friend with benefits," you know who, in a fit of post-wedding drunkenness, has confessed to being in love with me. If you call a declaration a confession, that is, with none of the tiptoeing, uncomfortable, abashed, self-conscious behavior one usually associates with a confession. This was no inadvertent "I love you" said in the heat of the moment (c’mon, you know you've done it) or laughed over an endearing moment (a la "The One where Chandler tells Monica when she’s wearing a raw chicken as a hat"). It was said repeatedly, with much enthusiasm, and was followed with an inquiry as to my intentions.

I have no intentions! Unfortunately, he is smarter than his predecessors and would not let me wiggle out with vagueness and exaggerated drunken behavior. Needless to say, I handled it badly. The end result was agreeing to date exclusively. While not a challenging task, is it wrong to agree to (and in theory adhere to) this when my heart's not really into it? I'm not ready for the party to stop; I’m just not ready to buy the dress. Am I leading him on by enjoying the things I like about the relationship while it lasts? Or should I come clean and possibly lose the benefits?

Beauty is a matter of taste

Women will create a million reasons why it’s not us personally that men don’t (want to) approach. I’m with too many friends/not enough friends. Friends that are too old/too young or too hippie/too square. Sometimes, when I’m really insecure OR feeling very confident, I will tell myself that it is because I am too attractive and men feel they are out of my league. Another variation of that materialized when a guy friend broke the man code by telling me that some men strategize by not picking out the best looking woman in the group - they pay attention to the more mediocore friend who perhaps might not be as used to it. (I ignore the possibilty that may be the case in an instance when I am on the receiving end.) Sometimes it’s because I’m not dressed appropriately, bad hair day, no lipstick, frumpy clothes. Or maybe they heard me in conversation and felt intimidated by my aggressiveness or put off by my conversation. Maybe I just didn’t bring my A game that day/night.

I consider myself to be a fairly attractive person. Not the skinniest, anymore, but tall enough to pull it off. But I’m also old enough to realize that there will always be someone skinnier, prettier, smarter, taller, leggier, more European, whatever one’s personal fancy is. It’s the whole package that sells. But without a good first impression, you rarely get a chance to show anyone the rest of the ad.

Secrets are secret

I am a single, Southern girl who has no idea what she’s going to do with a blog. The medium is a new phenomenon to me, and I so much enjoy reading others’ musings and reports that I want to see if I can express my questions, comments, and concerns in a fashion others can relate to. I like to mean what I say, and say what I mean. This seems like the perfect opportunity to contemplate things, and (in theory) get feedback from peers, before committing verbally. I do not profess to be a writer, although I love to read, so the form may not always be top notch. The content? We’ll see. I’ll try to keep things interesting. That depends on how secure the cloak of anonymity proves.