Goodbye 2005

I bid farewell to sorrow and loss
To pain and unhappiness
I say good riddance to unhealthy relationships
To a dead-end job and a dozen unwanted pounds

This has been a year of change
A year of difficult decisions
A year of endings and of new beginnings
It has seen the death of old dreams and the birth of new

I have struggled and fought -- argued and acquiesced
I have achieved and triumphed -- mediated and overcome
I have wallowed in self-pity yet, thankfully, not become consumed by it
I have seen the error of my ways and have resolved never to repeat them.

I have watched in horror as fellow countrymen’s lives were forever changed
I have wept for those in foreign lands
I have rejoiced at the birth of a new democracy
And mourned the cost

Despite all of its trials and tribulations,
2005 has been a year of growth and transformation
I have renewed my relationship with my Source and
I have been reminded of the value of friends, both far and near

I am thankful for 2005,
But I am not sad to see it pass.
I look forward to the New Year
And pray that peace will be found within its bounds.

Old People

I love old people. This realization was brought to the fore once again yesterday as I met with a retired couple -- he in his late 70's, her in her 60's. The husband was retired military -- a high ranking officer -- the wife emigrated from another country and worked on "secret projects" for the government. A simply delightful couple.

I sat for nearly an hour listening intently to their tales of world travel... exotic ports of call... the things they love. It was delightful to see the twinkle in his merry blue eyes as he spoke of his love for music... a love that has been quieted by the ravages of Parkinson's disease... to see the tender way she cares for him.

I love old people... and perhaps there's a calling in that. Perhaps as I start this new year, I'll find a place to volunteer -- to read or perhaps deliver meals. I love old people... and, as evidenced by the gallant kiss bestowed upon my hand as I departed their home, old people love me too.

Words Fail Me

So many times in my life I have sat before a blank sheet of paper or a blank computer screen with the intention of writing what I feel inside. It seems as if it should be a poem or a song... maybe a sad country song... or a blues number... but each time I start to write, it all falls apart. It starts to sound insipid, sickeningly banal... like emotional vomit.

I attempted it once again tonight. Once again, I failed. I ended up with a junior high rhyme that missed the depth of emotion by leagues. I'm going to try again... no rhyme, no reason, no verse or chorus... it may still be emotional vomit... but as my grandma always said, better out than in:

I'm disappointed with my life. There, I've finally said it. My life is so far from what I ever thought it would be that I don't even know how to live it most days. On so many levels, I'm not who or what I ever wanted to be. I know... boo-hoo... pull up your big girl panties and deal with it, right? But it's NOT all right. It's all wrong! In school, I was one of the brightest... most likely to succeed... Governor's School for the Gifted, pageant winner, highest IQ in the region, blah, blah, blah. I allowed myself to be victimized by a man and as a result threw all of that away... sloshing my way through a piss-ant college in a piss-ant town, washing down my dirty little secret with Segram's 7 and deadening my guilt with pain pills - seemed apropos. I hid from it, buried it, swallowed it, wallowed in it and it nearly killed me... but it didn't. Sometimes I wish it had.

Do you ever think about what you COULD have been? Do you ever kick yourself for all of the missed opportunities, the stupid choices, the downright INSANE turns you took in your life? I do. Sometimes, I reach a point of acceptance and think, "everything happens for a reason" and I'm okay with that for about a minute. I know in my heart that I SHOULD have been a musician/performer by trade... but here I sit, fat and forty and KNOWING there's no way that's going to happen now, save singing in a church choir or hanging out at karaoke bars. I had my opportunities. I threw them away.

I wanted to be a mother... I wanted daughters... I wanted to do ballet lessons and voice lessons, and cheering or field hockey or track... all the soccer mom stuff. I wanted to buy pretty little clothes and wear the badge of motherhood (otherwise known as spit-up) on my $100 dress. I tried, but my body failed me.

There was so much I wanted for my life and none of it has come to fruition. There are reasons -- some completely beyond my control -- but some days, like today, it just pisses me off and leaves me wondering -- what's the fucking point? Any monkey could do my job... there's no one who needs me... no one to carry on my name or my memory... I haven't made one iota of difference in this world and I just don't want to do this any more! Nothing matters... I keep trying to set goals, but they're just not important... money, trips, awards... they mean nothing to me because the things that mattered most are missing from my life.

I don't want anyone's pity. My own is more than I can bear. This just needed to be said. Maybe now I can move on.

This was NOT on my Christmas list...

but somehow, I ended up with strep-throat anyway. I feel as if an 18 wheeler ran over me and then backed up to do it again. Until the antibiotics kick in and I can actually SWALLOW again, I'm going to be scarce around here.

If I don't post before, Happy New Year everyone! May 2006 be a peaceful and blessed year.

To My Angel

Dear Little One,

It's Christmas Eve and, as usual, you are on my mind.
This would be your third Christmas and I wonder what we would be doing today.
I wonder if I would be wrapping cars and trucks and building blocks
Or if it would be dolls, a fairy princess and her castle

I wonder if you would have your father's beautiful curly black hair or my wispy blonde locks
Cat-like green eyes or deep brown
I wonder what it would be like to hear you call my name
I wonder... and my heart breaks once again.

Even though I never met you... never even heard your heartbeat I adored you
You were conceived in love and would have shared your great grandmother's birthday
You were so wanted and even now, after three years, I think of you and wonder "what if?"
Christmas rings hollow because you're not here and I stand with empty arms, longing for the baby I will never have.

Totally Non-PC Song Title Game

This was posted on a BB I frequent. I thought it would be fun to have everyone add their own versions. These are Christmas songs for the Psychologically Challenged (I know, it's not PC and I don't want any lectures about the seriousness of mental illness -- I have my own, thank you. This is JUST FOR FUN.) The original titles/lyrics are first, followed by mine in italics.

Schizophrenia

Do You Hear What I hear?
Angels I have heard on high!

Multiple Personality Disorder

We Three Kings Disoriented Are
I'm Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer, now Vixen...

Amnesia

I don't know if I'll be Home for Christmas
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me -- Gertrude, what was that thing called again?

Narcissistic

Hark the Herald Angels Sing About Me.
Joy to the World, that's what I am!

Manic

Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office and Town and Cars and Buses and Trucks and Trees and Fire Hydrants and...

We need a little Christmas right this very minute!


Paranoid

Santa Claus is coming to Get Me
Come, they told me... uh-uh, uh-uh-uh!

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells...
One more time, that's four (one, two three, four) calling birds, three (one, two, three) french hens, two (one, two) turtle doves...

Agoraphobia

I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day But Wouldn't Leave My House
I'm Not Dashing Through the Snow in a One Horse Open Sleigh


Senile Dementia

Walking in a Winter Wonderland Miles from My house in My Slippers and Robe
I wonder as I wander out under the sky...

Oppositional Defiant Disorder
I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus So I Burned Down the House
I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas, or I'm taking hostages!

Social Anxiety Disorder

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas while I Sit Here and Hyperventilate
Haul Out the Holly, Put up the tree before my Prozac wears off!

Update on the Great Snake Hunt

Success! I bagged the little sucker and he's currently tucked away in the secret hiding place awaiting Christmas morning. For those of you who wondered, here he is:

http://www.speedydog.net/prod_rcsnake.html

I don't see what all of the hoopla is about... he looks pretty cheesy if you ask me -- but this is ALL she's been talking about!

I'm nearly done with the shopping. One more thing to pick up for the parental units and a quick stop somewhere in the morning to pick up a gift for a near stranger. I HATE buying gifts for people I hardly know.

I'm still looking for an old fashioned set of metal jacks for one of my nieces. All I can find are the giant sized plastic ones and you can't play a REAL game of jacks with those. I've been to every dollar store and toy store in town and can't find the blinkin' things. Any ideas, peeps?

A Sneaky Snake Indeed

A snake and an eight year old girl... not typically something you'd think of as a good match, huh? Well, my niece has requested a remote control snake for Christmas and her Aunt Lauren has searched high and low for the sneaky devil. He's eluded me at every turn.

I heard he was in stock at the store in Greenbrier, so off I went. Sold out. They have three at the Norfolk store! No, they won't hold one for me -- it's first come, first served. Quick! Drive like a bat out of hell across town in lunch hour traffic... Sold out. Maybe they have them at Toys R Us. Phone calls yield no results. I could order one online from Florida and for a mere $24, it could be here by Christmas! The snake only costs $19... something's wrong with that picture.

So, today, I will drive to another city -- another COUNTY in search of the elusive snake. Pray that I find him, or I may have to resort to eating fruit from a forbidden tree or something! My baby girl simply MUST have her snake!

A Christmas Meme

Q: What is your favorite holiday movie?
A: The Little Drummer Boy. It’s an old animated Christmas story and I used to cry every year with the little lamb dies… and I was always so happy when the baby Jesus brought him back to life.
Q: What is your favorite holiday song (artist and title)?
A: White Christmas by Bing Crosby and a close second is The Best Gift by Barbra Streisand
Q: What is the best holiday gift you were ever given and why?
A: My grandmother’s wedding ring, which she had repaired and sized to fit me. It was special because she was still alive when I received it and that Christmas was the best ever.
Q: Do you have someone special to kiss at the stroke of midnight on New Years?
A: Although I doubt I'll be up that late, I suppose I could kiss a JRT named Caleb! LOL
Q: Name of your favorite reindeer?
A: I’m a big fan of Rudy… mostly because I ALWAYS root for the underdog!
Q: Favorite holiday food?
A: Smithfield ham biscuits
Q: Snow day-- Cuddle by the fire or Hand me a snowball?
A: Cuddle by the fire (with my puppy, I guess)
Q: What was your New Years resolution for this year and did you stick to it?
A: I resolved never to make New Years resolutions some 15 years ago and it’s one to which I have stuck like glue!
Q: Is there a Santa Claus?
A: Yes. He exists in the minds and imaginations of every child… and in the parents who carefully listen for every wish to make sure their little ones’ dreams come true.
Q: Present, or stocking stuffer?
A: I LOVE stocking stuffers because little things come in small packages and I LOVE small packages. They usually translate into jewelry! (and no wise cracks from the peanut gallery! It's Christmas, for heaven's sake!)

Do You See What I See?

SCENE: Ophthalmologist's office

Sitting in the big black chair, I began the yearly ritual of "E, A, G, D" All was well with the right eye. I read everything but the itsy-bitsy letters that no one over the age of 12 can read. But when she said, "cover your right eye" the scene changed dramatically.

The first group of numbers were a complete blur. I asked if there was something on the lens, as the entire middle of the display looked like a big gray blob. She added refraction and it just looked like a BIGGER gray blob. She kept impatiently asking, "is THIS better, or is THIS better?" I couldn't seem to get her to understand that none of it was better! Finally, she flipped to these GARGANTUAN letters and I said, "ah-ah! There's a B and a G" She said... what about the two in the middle. To which I replied, what two in the middle? At this point, she shifts gears and grabs a little card and shoves it in front of my face. She asks me to look at the little red dot and tell her what is looks like. I said, "it looks like a spider web of wavy lines." She then asked me to switch eyes and, lo and behold, it was a perfect grid.

At this point, I was starting to get a bit freaked out! Even the technician seemed a bit rattled as she hurried from the room. In the distance, I could hear her talking to the doctor... I caught a few words, "severe deficit and macula" but what did it all mean?

I was hurried to another room, where I had to stare at a yellow light and click a button every time I saw a red light flash... then it was on to the pressure test and finally the dreaded dilation. The doc came in and looked in my eyes... grabbed another instrument, looked again... grabbed a third and pushed away from me looking perplexed. He looked yet again and then proclaimed, "I'll be darned, you have a macular hole in your eye!" He briefly explained to me that this is typically a condition of the elderly and seemed a bit surprised that he'd identified it in a 40 year old. He talked about fovials and vitreous humor (is this a joke? am I supposed to be laughing?)... but, to be quite honest, at that point, I was just in shock. I was expecting glasses... not to be told that I needed eye surgery -- and sooner rather than later!

So, of course in typical Lauren fashion, I came home and immediately started researching the condition AND the surgery. It seems that the recovery from the surgery is the REAL issue -- at least for me. It can require as much as SIX WEEKS of remaining in a face-down position. That means no driving and no working. Being a sole proprietor, I'm in the "no work, no eat" category and, due to my autoimmune disease, I am ineligible for disability insurance. Kinda means I'm screwed! Do I take the chance of losing my house or losing my vision?

Do you see what I see? A HUGE dilemma! And talk about timing that just S-U-C-K-S!
Merry Christmas to me!

Procrastination

We're now entering the home stretch... just 12 days left until Christmas... and for the first time in my entire life I have not bought the FIRST present. Just thinking about shopping at this late date sends me into apoplectic fits. I can't BELIEVE I've let it get this far. At first, I was just in no mood to shop -- what with the separation and all and now... well, now I'm just terrified! I'm terrified of all of the frantic shoppers who push and shove and snatch toys from your hand. I'm terrified of the parking... EEGADS, the PARKING!!! And the thought of those lines snaking through the store filled with sick people, angry people, frustrated people, impatient people, people just like me who had rather be anywhere else in the world but here.

Alas, I think tomorrow is the day -- the day I throw caution to the wind and run headlong into the the scariest place of all this time of year... the MALL! I'm going armed with emergency flares and enough food and water to last for three days. If you don't hear from me soon, send search and rescue.

Eighty-nine years ago today

Eighty nine years ago today, the world welcomed a wonderful baby girl. She was born to poor farmers in a small town just north of Atlanta, Georgia. This baby would do some extraordinary things. In the 1920's, a complete education wasn't the norm -- most girls finished up with 8th grade, but this young lady went on to college, where she played basketball -- one more thing that set her apart from the typical girl. She went on to nursing school, until meeting the love of her life. Women weren't allowed to be nurses or teachers back then if they were married, so she gave up that dream and married this tall, handsome boy from the mountains.

Soon after they wed, Pearl Harbor was bombed and the young man went off to enlist... only he had a bad heart and they wouldn't take him. They did, however, send him off to a ship yard up north in Virginia. With all of their possessions in two suitcases and a steamer trunk, this young couple set off for Virginia, where they would spend the rest of their lives.

The young woman gave birth to a beautiful baby girl and then lost a baby boy several years later. She eventually ended up teaching -- once the restriction of marriage was lifted. She was such a dynamic person that to this very day people fondly recall her science class. She taught three generations of locals before finally retiring in 1979.

In 1992, she lost the only man she had ever loved. Her grief was profound and those who knew her best thought that she would lay down and die beside him. In an odd turn of events, she was diagnosed with breast cancer the following year and, instead of causing her to give up and join her beloved in heaven, it sparked a fire of defiance in her heart. She fought the disease valiantly for nearly ten years, although it had metasticized to her bones -- ribs, spine and skull. She rarely complained, but one day in March of 2002, she commented that she had a horrible headache. Forty-eight hours later, she lay in a hospital bed -- the victim of a catastrophic stroke.

With her only child, her baby sister and her grandchildren by her side, the life support was removed. Ten days later, she left this world and went to be with the man she loved so dearly.

Eighty-nine years ago today, my dearest friend -- my grandmother was born. I miss her still. I think I always will.

Jocularity

I just had a great laugh thanks to Charlie over at It Ain't All Pizzas and Cream. Go on over and add your mis-understood song lyrics to the list. Some of them are just hillarious.

I've also been laughing my butt off over at Kim's site, I Wasn't Always Like This. She's currently answering questions -- for each question asked, she's donating a dollar to St. Jude's. I can't wait for the answers!

At this point in time, I look for humor wherever I can find it. Unfortunately, I have none of my own to share tonight. I promise, I'll try to do better in the days and weeks ahead.

And we wonder why our kids are coming out of school illiterate

I am appalled... simply appalled. I keep meeting teachers -- both secondary and post-secondary -- who seem to be incapable of communicating properly. I thought teachers were supposed to know the difference between they're, their and there and be well versed in the proper use of grammar. I thought teachers were supposed to be capable of critical thinking. I thought teachers were supposed to know more than their students.

It just never ceases to amaze me that school systems and post-secondary institutions hire people who are incapable of any of the above. What's the deal? What gives? Why are these people given teaching credentials? I was merely RAISED by a teacher and I would never THINK of dangling participles or ending a sentence with a preposition, or using the wrong verb tense. I'm not perfect -- I readily admit that -- and I'm sure that if someone looked closely at my blog there would be an error or two that I've missed or days when I was going for emotion over technical perfection; however, I'm not a teacher. Neither my instruction nor my example is going to have any deleterious effects on young minds.

I am saddened by the level of mediocrity to which this country has fallen. Is there any end in sight? When are we going to stop accepting this and make a stand! If we paid teachers a wage on par with the importance of their duties then, perhaps, we'd get the brightest and the best instead of those for whom it's a last resort.

Our children deserve better.

Tell Him

Who do you tell? Who is the one person that you instantly pick up the phone and call when something exciting or upsetting or maddening happens? Who is the one person you know that will always try to make it better or fix it or just listen?

For me, it used to be my grandmother and for a long time after she passed, I would catch myself, hand poised on the telephone, thinking "let me tell Nannie about..." But in the years since her passing, that person has become my husband. Yes, I know you all must think he's a green monster with horns and and pointy tail -- but he's been my confidant -- my go-to guy -- even though he didn't always understand or do the best job of listening -- even though he tried to fix the unfixable, in typical male fashion.

Now that we're no longer a couple, I find myself floundering -- at a loss for what to do with my good news, bad news, any kind of news at all. So, my subconscious has devised a plan... I tell him in my dreams. In my dreams, he listens, understands, consoles and comforts. In my dreams he knows just what to say. In my dreams, he doesn't try to fix the unfixable -- just gathers me in his arms and strokes my hair... letting my tears fall on his chest. In the morning I wake up and go about my day... collecting my stories, my joys, my fears... so that I can tell him in my dreams.

A Good Day

Today, I insured the life of a divorced father. Because of my actions, his son will never have to do without if his dad passes away prematurely. I like this part of my job.

The Ugly Cry

Oh. My. God. This is going to sound completely inane... but I can't stop crying and it's all because of a stupid television signal. After waiting four hours for the satellite tv installer to arrive, he pronounced my location unacceptable due to the FREAKIN' ASS PINE TREES in my yard. He said that I wouldn't be able to get ANY of the satellites due to the trees and promptly departed.

So, I called the cable company back... planning to beg and grovel to get them to give me service... and I go round and round with them again about this $257. I argued until I was blue in the face and the girl INSISTED that I owed the money (even though she couldn't explain to me what it was for). Once again, I asked to be called by a supervisor... we'll see how long that takes. I'm not holding my breath.

In the meantime, I can only get weak signals from two channels: ABC and my local PBS station. Woo-hoo.

I am so frustrated and angry that the tears just keep coming and that just makes me madder -- mostly because there are so many things worse than my piddly little problems. Of course, I have a client appointment in an hour and a half and I know my face and eyes will still be splotchy from the ugly cry.

Back to the Dark Ages

Good morrow, dear bloggers. Verily I say unto thee that my worst fears have been realized... yea, I have been returned hence to the Dark Ages -- and the plague -- nay, the CURSE -- of dial-up.

It seems that a certain cable company (which shall remain nameless) with whom I have had service at every residence I have ever occupied has suddenly determined that I owe them money from an account I held briefly in 1988. Yes, you read that correctly - nineteen eighty-eight! Although they are completely unable to confirm what the charges are for, they insist that I pay all $257 of it before they will give me service. Now, call me crazy, but I'll be damned if I'm going to stroke a check to a company for $257 without some sort of proof that this is a legitimate debt. Not to mention the fact that the statute of limitations on debt collection in my state is 5 years. So, I requested that they have a supervisor call me in order to rectify the situation. It's been four days and, as of this moment, my phone has not rung. They DID however, disconnect the service from my home -- which they had assured me would not happen.

This turn of events caused me to get my panties in a wad and I decided to boycott this service provider! Surely in this day and age, there would be other providers out there who could provide the same services... especially since monopolies are prohibited by law. I couldn't have BEEN more wrong. Of course, it doesn't help that I live in an old neighborhood -- established in the mid-sixties -- so we're not exactly wired with state-of-the-art cables and wires.

While I was easily able to sign up for satellite television (with no deposit or down-payment required because of my EXCELLENT CREDIT - THANK YOU VERY MUCH), my Internet service was another issue entirely. There is ONLY ONE SINGLE INTERNET PROVIDER who provides cable modem access in this entire area. In addition, there are NO DSL providers who service my area either. So, I ended up having to go back to dial-up with my telephone provider. I selected them because they have an "accelerator" program. What they DON'T tell you until you're finished with the sign-up is that all the accelerator does is reduce the quality of your graphics!

I sincerely hope that my righteous indignation is not overcome by the need for speed. This dial-up thing is tortuously s-l-o-w. All I can do is pray to the god of the Internet (that's Gore, right?) that some day soon the dastardly evildoers who've foisted this monopoly upon me and my fellow man will be forced out of business by a competitor!

Have Mercy, PLEASE!

In my new job, I am partnering with several agents around the metro area. One of them is a smoker -- as is her staff. I'm committed to being in her office two days per week and I think it's going to be the death of me.

See, this ex-smoker (me) has developed a severe allergy to cigarette smoke and all residuals thereof and the break room where they smoke is attached to my office. At the moment, I have an air purifier/ionizer sitting a few feet from my face and a can of Febreeze air freshener at the ready and I'm CHOKING TO DEATH!!!

I don't know if my poor respiratory system can take this much abuse. I just hope and pray that the allergic reaction doesn't trigger my immune system to flare up (I have Undifferentiated Connective Tissue Disease)

Another 30 minutes and I'm getting the heck out of here. I can't TAKE it any more!!!!!

A Turkey of a Day

Yesterday was an interesting day: a Thanksgiving Celebration on one side of the street, juxtaposed with a spouse moving out on the other. It made for an odd mix of emotions. At one point, we actually had an ARGUMENT over a garlic press!

Mr. Small: Well, one thing I'm taking for sure is MY garlic press.
Me (in one of my less-than-magnanimous moments): YOUR garlic press? My ass! That's MY garlic press. I bought it at Angela's Pampered Chef party in 1999!
Mr. Small: Nuh-uh... I bought this at Williams-Sonoma in Pennsylvania.
Me: I don't think so... look... right here on the handle... PAMPERED CHEF! When have YOU ever been to a Pampered Chef party? (Game, set and match!)

That incident aside, nostalgia had been creeping in and causing me to be a bit weepy, but this morning brought me close to a cure for that! I told Mr. Small that I would help him get the new apartment ready -- by doing the wifely stuff -- like washing and ironing curtains, packing up the dishes and the pots and pans. So, this morning, I'm standing at the ironing board, starching curtains while HE sits on his fat ass in the bedroom playing Halo 2. Ahhhhh... thank you for that dose of reality!

The one for whom I feel the most sorry in this whole mess is our puppy. He doesn't know quite what to think of all of the boxes and the hustle and bustle. I hope he won't be too sad.

For all of this, and more, I am truly thankful

I am thankful for:

1. My mom - my best friend. I'm so blessed to have her so close by.
2. My dad - without whom the above relationship would not be possible
3. My puppy - he loves me no matter what and his kisses always make me giggle
4. My beautiful home - which belonged to my grandmother and is so FULL of memories
5. My country - regardless of its faults and mistakes, it's still a pretty wonderful place.
6. Freedom of speech
7. Freedom of religion
8. The beauty of nature
9. Compassion
10. The ocean... which centers and calms me
11. My beautiful nieces
12. The joy of singing
13. The ecstasy of playing a Beethoven Sonata or a Chopin Etude
14. Music, music, music
15. Art
16. Artists
17. Abundant blessings
18. Security and plenty... and the understanding that we are defined not by what we have but by what we give
19. Flowers
20. Squirrels playing in the trees (but NOT digging up my bulbs from the garden! ;o)
21. Birds singing
22. Children singing
23. Children laughing
24. Good friends who take me just as I am -- warts and all
25. Food... for sustenance and for enjoyment... I'm so fortunate to know BOTH joys
26. A good education
27. Laughter
28. Freshly laundered linens
29. A good glass of wine
30. Harris Teeter - the only store in town that's open today to save me from my botched attempt at making a sugar-free cake from scratch (sorry mom)
31. Books to read and the freedom to read them
32. The gift of life
33. The gift of eternity
34. Oneness with the Universe
35. Joy unspeakable and full of glory
36. and many, many, many more things

I am truly, truly blessed.

No wonder our roads are among the worst in the country!

Twas the night before Thanksgiving
While driving through town,
A series of signs said that one lane was down.
With me in the right lane and others there too,
We were merging quite nicely -- we knew what to do.
Then, what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a blinking arrow sign and eight tiny reindeer (actually, they were orange cones, but that just doesn't rhyme!).
We scurried and hurried and moved to the left
And some sat there staring and looking bereft.
The workers seemed stunned, confused by the scene
As some honked their horns and yelled words quite obscene.
I heard it exclaimed as I drove out of sight, "it's the other left lane, moron... can't you get it right?"

It's times like this when I really wish I'd taken the plunge and gotten a trendy camera phone!

Random ramblings...

Well, girls' night out was fun. We talked for hours and then decided to go catch a movie and another friend joined us there. We saw Prime with Meryl Streep and Uma Thurman. It was funny and poignant and absolutely MADDENING at the end. I HATED, HATED, HATED the ending. I don't want to spoil it for anyone who may want to see it, but all three of us were kvetching about it as we made our exit from the theatre. Still, Meryl's performance alone made it worth the price of admission.

On the home front, I had to encounter the first, and hopefully last, maddening interaction with a service provider. I HATE having to explain my personal life to perfect strangers. I put in an order for new service with the cable company and came home to this sickeningly sweet message on my voice mail - addressed to Mr. Small - stating, "Lauren isn't on your account as an authorized user, so I need your permission to make this change. If you could just call me and tell me it's okay to let her make this change, we'll get the upgrade taken care of." Oh. My. God. was my blood boiling... LET me make a change on a service that's attached to MY HOUSE that's in MY NAME. Red, I tell you, I was seeing RED! And all of this is due to the fact that he LIED to me about having put in his request for a service change!!!!! Now, my installation date is going to be delayed because HE didn't do what he said he was going to do.

Methinks it's time for a very large glass of vino... especially now that I've had to chase the dog through the house to TRY to get him to barf on a hard surface, instead of an oriental rug. Why do dogs choose the BEST rug in the house on which to vomit????? GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

A New Lease on Life

Today, Mr. Small is signing an apartment lease. I'm anticipating that he'll move next weekend, if he can find a mover.

So, I'm starting to think about how I'm going to arrange the furniture and what I'll do with all of the extra space... but for some reason, I can't seem to think about the "new lease" without also feeling a little nostalgic at the expiration of the old one.

That being said, I have plans for the evening. I'm meeting a girlfriend for dinner and drinks. We haven't seen each other in a few months, so there will be lots of catching up to do. I always have fun when the two of us get together. We even set our dinner date early so we'll have plenty of time for talking... our Girls' Night Out always seems to last into the wee small hours of the morn.

Guess that's all for now. Maybe I'll do an audio 'Sing it Sunday' post tomorrow. ;o)

That Place

I went to that place yesterday. I hadn't been there in a long time -- months, perhaps. I'd forgotten how much I love that place. There is peace and joy... joy like the Bible talks about... unspeakable and full of glory... I always loved that verse. I've been visiting that place since I was about twelve... it got me through the worst times in my life... it kept me going... it healed my broken spirit... but I've neglected it and I wondered if I'd be able to find my way back. Surely the path was overgrown.

But there it was... in all of its glory... that place. If you're a musician, then you know it well... it's that place you go where your body seems to disappear and you become part of something greater than yourself... where you cease to think about the notes you're playing and just let the music pour from your body... it's a spiritual experience... supernal... words fail to capture the magnitude of emotion -- the sheer bliss of becoming one with the creative energy.

I went to that place yesterday and found myself there.

Rusty Pipes

Last week after church, the choir director at the church I've been visiting came flying out of the building after me - no doubt tipped off by the deaconness who was standing in front of me during the service. She wanted me to come visit the choir and see if I would consider joining. I was unable to attend last week because of travel for work, but I'm going this week. I just hope she isn't disappointed! I'm afraid my upper register is quite rusty and I'm not convinced of my ability to squeak out so much as a high G... and God forbid I be required to go higher than that!

I suppose it's time to get back to a regular routine of vocal exercise... there's just one problem with that... the dog barks every time I start. Maybe he thinks I'm in pain, or maybe it hurts his ears... I'm not sure which... but either way, it's certainly not encouraging! A music critic dog... who'd've thunk it?

Damned Dreams!

I woke up at 4:22 this morning from a terrible dream... in the dream my sister-in-law died. I could see her brother sitting in the corner of the room, looking lost and forlorn. All I could think of was how much I wanted to wrap him in my arms and comfort him, but no one would let me in the room.

There were two women (one, I think, was his ex-wife) who accosted me and started taunting me... I finally snapped and wrestled one of them to the ground. As I knelt over her, shaking her by the shoulders, I was shouting, "He's STILL my husband and I STILL love him... he needs me" and then I woke up. I couldn't get back to sleep and I couldn't stop crying. I finally crept into his room, and laid down beside him. He held me as I sobbed uncontrollably. This is the man with whom I fell in love... whose embrace can make bad dreams go away... this is the man who infuriates me, frustrates me, saddens me and hurts me... this is the man I love, but with whom I cannot live.

Damned dreams.

The ABC's of Me

• A is for age: 40
• B is for booze of choice: either a nice Shiraz or a Cosmopolitan
• C is for career: Financial Services Professional
• D is for your dad's name: Bill
• E is for essential items to bring to a party: Wine and cheese
• F is for favorite song at the moment: ‘Home’ by Michael Buble
• G is for favorite game: Scategories
• H is for hometown: right here
• I is for instruments you play: piano, keyboard, synth
• J is for jam or jelly you like: apple butter
• K is for kids: None
• L is for living arrangements: Me in one bedroom, STBE (soon-to-be-ex) in another, with my puppy by my side – always.
• M is for mom's name: Lenora (Lee to her friends)
• N is for name of your crush: don't have one
• O is for overnight hospital stays: 2 (ischemic migraine and emergency back surgery)
• P is for phobias: snakes and things that go bump in the night
• Q is for quotes you like: "I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul." William Ernest Henley
• R is for relationship that lasted the longest: 6 ½ years with my STBE
• S is for sexual preference: I’ll take a vibrator over a man any day of the week.
• T is for time you wake up: workdays – 5:30, weekends as late as the puppy will let me sleep
• U is for underwear: Hanes Her Way
• V is for vegetable you love: asparagus
• W is for weekend plans: My nieces’ soccer game in the morning, then rehearsing my presentation, then I’m off to the Virginia Chorale to enjoy a concert!
• X is for x-rays you've had: a bajillion of my back, several of each of my arms, a few chest x-rays and one of my right ankle.
• Y is for yummy food you make: KILLER macaroni and cheese from scratch
• Z is for zodiac sign: Gemini (II)

To Schtik or Not to Schtik...

That is the question... at least, that is the question facing me today. When I was in Chicago, my new company presented me with a canned presentation to be used with all customers. The fella who presented it to us was from Georgia or maybe Alabama... and he was a Good Ol' Boy. The presentation worked brilliantly for him - despite the plethora of chiche's and tie downs (the "wouldn't you agree, Mr. Customer?" questions).

Now, the concept is wonderful and the marketing collateral that accompanies it is wonderful... but the script... well, the script is just NOT me. So, I've spent the better part of the day re-tooling the presentation. I found that there was so much used-car-salesman schtik in there that I was hard-pressed to make it sound like something I would EVER say. (eg 'People don't plan to fail, they just fail to plan.' 'Would you agree with me that the person who can assist you when you're older is the younger person you are today?' ' While you may not be able to add more years to your life, by following this plan, you could add more life to your years!')


I had to remain true to the concepts being presented and endeavor to keep it interesting without being hokey. I think I'm there -- at least about 95% of the way there. I kept one cliche' and a few tie downs and (I'd like to think) artfully recrafted some of the segues from concept to concept. I'm being "tested" on this on Wednesday. I wonder if I'll pass the Schtik test?

Scattered

Today, my thoughts are so scattered I can hardly complete a sentence. At once, I'm thinking about the pending separation, the myriad tasks that need to be completed to start my new job, and the myriad tasks that need to be completed here at home. All of this is flavored by a wistful sadness. This separation is something I've been moving toward for months -- quite nearly a year, truth be told -- so why, now that the finish line is in sight, would I feel this way?

I'm sure that part of it is due to the fact that Mr. Small is being his typical conciliatory, magnanimous self -- the side of him I like to call the "Stepford Husband." Yellow mums or purple pansies in the front bed? I think a bigger part of it still is that I'm really going to be alone... childless, 40 and divorced (again)... maybe some of each or maybe ornamental cabbage? I wonder if I'll end up being the strange old maid with a house full of dogs and cats... and I really need to unclog that drain in the guest bathroom sink. Will I follow through with my dreams of travel and making lots of new friends and catching up with old ones? I HAVE to finish those online training modules today. Will I find myself again -- under the extra 40 pounds I've gained -- rediscover my voice, take up dancing again? Don't forget your list of phone calls for today... Or will I get mired down in the daily routine? You STILL haven't memorized that script! I know that I'm the only one who has control over these things... and perhaps that is what scares me the most. SHIT! I hope I can get all of this done on time! Oh, and you REALLY need to mow the back yard...

.

A Political Statement

Along with approximately 42,917 other Virginians, I made my statement to the Republican Party of Virginia yesterday. What I said, if they care to listen, is that I'm not going to vote for right-wing candidates who run negative campaigns frought with attack ads that say nothing of what the candidate himself will do -- only what 'evils' his opponent will do. What I said is, I want the party to return to its roots -- that of limited powers of the Federal Government and fiscal conservatism. What I said is, give me a candidate with substance -- not one who speaks in Bushesque soundbytes. What I said is, come on, Virginia, we can do better than this!

I am so very weary of hearing people say, "I'm voting for the lesser of two evils." People, evils triumphs when good men do nothing... and if we continue to vote for these 'lesser evils' we're still just getting 'evil.' My vote was cast for a Republican moderate who ran as an independent -- a candidate very few people knew anything about, because the two-party system in this country has become so powerful and so manipulative that they will not allow other voices to be heard. It's sad, it's maddening, it's so un-American.

There is so much more I could say on this topic, but I am faced with a two hour drive to Richmond this morning for a training class. Suffice it to say that in this blogger's opinion, Jerry Kilgore reaped what he sowed -- if you sow strife, you'll reap strife -- and I would be willing to bet that there is a great deal of that in his camp this morning.

A House Divided

"Take your cat and leave my sweater... we've got nothing left to weather..."
That's where we are this morning -- only, in true fashion, there's a twist. Mr. Small has turned his nose up at everything we own. It went something like this:

Mr. Small: F***, I guess I'm going to have to buy all new pots and pans.
Me: We can divide up what we have. There should be enough for two single people.
Mr. Small: Nah... I'd rather have a whole set of the ones with the copper bottoms... what are they called?
Me: Revere Ware?
Mr. Small: Yeah, that's it. I'll get me a brand new set of those. (sulking) Guess I'll have to buy a new sofa too.
Me: You can have the reclining sofa which I just HAVE to add is the one HE picked out and I abhor
Mr. Small: (grimacing) Eh, it's really not comfortable enough to sleep on... I want one like my old one that's more comfortable. Do we still have the dishes from when I moved out last year?
Me: No, we sold those at the garage sale. I have enough of Nannie's that I can give you half.
Mr. Small: No, that's okay... I'll buy me some new ones.
Me: Really, it's okay... there are twelve in the set and I'll never need that many.
Mr. Small: (wrinkling up his nose) I really don't like those... I'd rather have my own. Do we have an extra coffee maker?
Me: Why don't you take the one with the timer the one he INSISTED on buyingand I'll just pick up a small two-cupper?
Mr. Small: That's okay... I don't like that one anyway... I'll get a better one. (dejectedly) I guess I can sleep on whatever sofa I buy.
Me: If you'd like, you can take the bedroom suite...
Mr. Small: Hmmm... maybe you could just pay me half of what we paid for it...
Me: I don't have that kind of money laying around... sorry.

TEN MINUTES LATER:
Mr. Small: I hope you don't mind if it takes me a while to move out. This move is going to be expensive.
Me: What kind of timeline were you thinking about?
Mr. Small: At least until after Christmas. My greencard is about to expire and I want to apply for citizenship... something he's been PROMISING to do for 6 years and for which MY parents gave him the money... which got frittered away ages ago
Me: I'm sorry, that doesn't work for me. Perhaps if you economized a bit and didn't insist on buying everything new it wouldn't be such a stretch... but then, I forgot, you're too good for hand-me-downs. December 1st -- that's the deadline.
Mr. Small: Well, maybe I'll just sell everything I own and buy a boat.
Me: Yeah... you do that.
-- end--

That's it. I'm done being generous. Can you BELIEVE this guy? He also had the audacity to ask for his "share" of the equity in the house... not two months ago he signed a quit claim deed and I refinanced in my name only. What a nimrod. There IS no equity in the house!

Gentle readers, I never intended this to be a chronicle of a divorce... it just so happens that that's where my life is at the moment... I hope to return to some witty repartee at some point in the near future. For now, I just need to VENT! Thanks for your support.

All's Quiet on the Western Front...

This morning's routine went off without so much as a snide remark, for which I am most grateful. I ALMOST e-mailed him an apartment brochure from Apartments.com, but I figured I'd best let the sleeping dog lie, if you know what I mean.

Despite the fact that I'm about to embark on what I know from personal experience to be a painful process, I feel so relieved -- happy almost. My biggest fear is that he will attempt to "dog nap" Caleb... I found it hysterically funny that he wanted to get into a pissing match over who takes better care of the dog. Hmmm... let's see...

Him:
Grossed out by puke, pee and poop and, therefore, will not clean it up.
Has spent $0 on veterinary care
Takes the dog out and/or feeds him ONLY if I am incapacitated or absent
Has spent lots-o-dollars on toys and treats
Has zero patience when he misbehaves or wants attention when it's not convenient
Loves to get him all riled up and then gets mad when the dog gets rambunctious
Has been heard stating, "Sometimes I just want to rip his throat out." and "I never wanted a dog anyway, so YOU have to take care of him."

Me:
Always cleans up the puke, pee and poop
Has paid for all veterinary care and administers all regular treatments
Takes him out at 5am every morning and every time in between.
Serves all meals
Has spent not-as-many-dollars on toys and treats
Sometimes gets frustrated with rambunctious behavior... but would open a vein for the little guy in a heart beat.

I guess he knew that was the quickest way to get to me... he was right.

So You Think You Know Me Part II

Thanks to Sheri over at Deerledge for this fun Quiz... let's see if anyone REALLY knows me:

Take my Quiz! and then Check out the Scoreboard!

Have fun!!!

What I am not...

I am not a happy person. I was happy for five days in a strange city where I didn't know a soul -- but within moments of arriving home, the happiness had vanished.
I am not a strong person. Although I like to think of myself as being strong, in the face of the negative energy projected within my home, I find myself laid low -- unable to rise above it.
I am not a brave person. A brave person would have ended this charade long ago.
But what I AM today is finished. I am finished being unhappy, I am finished being affected by negativity and I am finished living a charade.
As of today, I AM NOT going to take this any more. Wish me luck. It's Independence Day.

UPDATE:

***************NOT A HAPPY PLACE AROUND HERE**************

Accusations are flying and I was just told to do unnatural things to myself. He's cursing and drinking and I'm not entirely sure where it's all going to end up. I will say, however, that he is the one who broached the subject. Let's hope this can all be handled amicably... somehow I doubt it.

Weary to the bone...

That's me tonight. I was up at five this morning in order to finish packing, finish my homework, eat breakfast and arrive at class before 8 am. I just now got home. It was a long week and my wee noggin is stuffed to the brim with facts, ideas and concepts. As we speak, they're jostling around in there for the best position and it's given me quite a headache!

I met some very nice people and some people that just made my skin crawl... unfortunately, one of the latter was sitting right beside me. Eeegads.

I shit you not (borrowed phrase from our resident "fake doctor"), I wasn't in the car two minutes before Mr. Small started harping on the driver in front of us and complaining about women, and certain ethnic groups. As tired as I was, I swear I could have gotten out and walked home. Some things just never change.

So... I'll try to write something more articulate and interesting tomorrow. For now, I'm going to go snuggle up with my puppy and go to sleep in MY bed.

Toodles.

A taste of the city

Can you tell I was bone tired when I did this one?

Ah... Chicago

Sorry for the poor quality audio... it was done using a cell phone from my hotel room. I was afraid to really let it rip because I had colleagues in the rooms on either side of me.

Thanks for the compliments... I really miss singing in productions.

Off to the Windy City

Well, bloggers, I'm off to Chicago for the week. I probably won't have Internet access while I'm there, so I plan to audio blog from the road.

I'm returning Friday night, so you can expect a full trip report Saturday morning.

Have a great week, everyone!

Sweet Pickles

There they sat… all the way in the back of the fridge… behind the mayo and the gherkins… just to the left of the low fat yogurt… a jar of home-canned sweet pickles. You always called them "Bread & Butters" and you knew I loved them. They’ve been there for three and a half years now… I couldn’t bring myself to open them… I couldn’t bring myself to throw them out… How long do pickles keep, anyway? You would know the answer to that… but you’re not here.

I’m standing in your kitchen at your sink… a place I’ve stood thousands of times in my life… washing Sunday dinner dishes… leaning against the counter chatting as you cooked... getting swatted with the dish towel for stealing a piece of fried squash from the pan. I find myself unconsciously standing the way you stood -- kind of like a flamingo – one foot resting on the opposing knee. I hadn’t realized I’d picked up that habit.

Just now, the feeling hits me hard and fast… I miss you… I miss your unconditional love… I miss our chats… I miss just knowing that you’re here… and the tears flow hot and fast. Sometimes, I think you still are – here that is -- I’ll wake up in the morning and smell stewed tomatoes or burnt toast or your old fashioned roses that grow by the back door, even though they’ve long since finished blooming.

My name may be on the deed now, but this will always be your house. Living here will always remind me of you and because of that I will always feel loved and I will never feel alone.

~Dedicated to the memory of my beloved grandmother, whom I affectionately called 'Lucy.'
© Oh to be a 40’s Torch Singer 2005
All rights reserved.

It's Fun Friday Again

I picked up this Pop Quiz from The Southern Conservative - a fellow Virginian with whom I share a few opinions and differ on a few as well - but he seems like a genuinely nice guy:

1. They're finally making the movie of your life and, after narrowing the role of YOU down to three actors, they've asked for your choice. Who are the three actors, and which person do you ultimately choose? For the vocals, you’d need someone like BeBe Neuwirth, Donna Sheridan, Sherie Rene Scott (all Tony award-winning singers/actresses). They could do voice-overs for Lauren Holly, Stephanie Niznik or some other 40-something actress. I think I’d lean toward Lauren Holly. I tried to upload a picture of her -- but Blogger's beeing a bit testy this morning. GRRR
2. You're at a fancy restaurant with your significant other, when your arch nemesis shows up with his gang to rob the place. You left your costume home tonight, and you wouldn't want to reveal your true identity unless there was no other choice. How do you handle this one?I’d lay low during the robbery then, in the mayhem that ensues following their departure, I’d whisk a table cloth from the table, use a napkin for a mask and take off after the fiends!
3. 4 +X/8=15Y-23Z; solve for each variable. Uh… yeah… right!
4. They're turning MY blog into a sitcom! Quick, who's playing me? I'd say Ellen DeGeneres (and, no, I’m not a lesbian – I just think she’s very funny)
5. What was the scariest moment of your life? When my dad went into cardiac arrest. Thankfully, there was a portable defibrillator nearby and they were able to bring him back.
6. After much thought and deliberation, you realize the best thing you can do with your life is to form your own team of superheroes. Keeping in mind that you don't actually possess any powers or a dual identity in this scenario, how do you go about selecting your team, what abilities do you look for in potential allies, and what do you call your group? I’d go to superhero.com and post an ad for anyone who can beat the crap out of mean people! I’d call the group the Meany Maulers
7. If a hypothetical train is traveling East at 70 MPH, and a hypothetical truck is traveling North at 55 MPH, then name 3 famous people you feel shouldn't be famous. Omarosa, Paris Hilton, Anna Nicole Smith
8. A freak accident caused by lightning or radiation or genetic engineering or whichever origin suits you, bestows upon you the ability to step INSIDE your television set and interact with the characters. Where do you go first, and why? I would step into C-SPAN’s coverage of the US Senate and tell the SOBs to stop wasting my tax dollars on pork barrell spending -- or else! Then, I’d jump over to the Travel Channel, where I’d escape prosecution by jetting off to a foreign land that doesn't allow extradiction to the US!
9. After winning a karaoke contest, you're awarded the grand prize from a local radio station: you get to perform ONE song alongside your favorite group! Who do you sing with and what song? I would sing L-O-V-E with the Boston Pops
10. A blogger you read regularly posts a pop quiz. Do you take it? Please list your reasons either way. Yes. I simply cannot leave questions unanswered. Although I have to admit this one took me WAY too long to complete. I actually had to THINK!
11. The quiz goes all the way up to 11. And 11 is a fine number… so… so… um… straight? Just one more line and you’d have pi(e)
    

Only five days to go...

and if frostbite doesn't set in first, I will accomplish my goal of not turning on the furnace until November! Nights have been in the 40's, but I'm happy to report that my new double-pane, energy efficient windows have managed to maintain the inside temperature in the low to mid-sixties.

It's odd, because I can remember as a teenager that once the temperature got above 60 degrees in the spring, I'd be out in my bathing suit tanning. At the moment, I'm in sweats and a t-shirt, thick wool socks and fuzzy slippers and my fingers are BLUE! I'd be wearing gloves too, only I've not yet mastered the art of gloved blogging. Truth be told, the only thing keeping my teeth from chattering is this wonderful cuppa Hazelnut Cream coffee. Mmmmmm...

For inspiration, I've placed the letter from my heating oil company in plain sight -- the one informing me of the 24% increase in this year's monthly installment plan.

Yeah... I vote for wooly mittens instead... perhaps with a nice faux fur trim...

Trhjewre, tyhgat's bvettrert!

When will I learn?

So, today I had meetings with potential partner agents with my new company. After making the rounds and meeting some really wonderful people, my distribution leader and I sat down to discuss my projected income for 2006. We came up with a very nice number, based on the agents with whom I'll be partnered.

When I got home, I was so excited about the events of the day that I made the BIG mistake of mentioning that number to Mr. Small. Not five minutes later, he came back with this workshop renovation project that will cost a huge chunk of change. He hasn't even darkened the door of that workshop in two years -- not to mention the fact that he SWORE he'd never work in there again. I haven't made a penny yet and he already has my first quarter earnings spent! What a schmuck! I almost got upset about it, but then I realized that he won't be around to see one red cent of it!!!

Moohaaahaaahaaahaaahaaa!

Miscellaneous Musings

Last night while channel surfing, I ran across the Tavis Smiley show. He was interviewing Melissa Etheridge. She was talking about her new greatest hits album, her battle with breast cancer and life in general. I was taken with her. I've always liked her music -- it has a raw honesty about it -- but I found myself inspired by her sense of herself. I'm not sure what spiritual journey she is on, but it seems to have a profound effect on her life. Her countenance was glowing and she seemed to have a genuine sense of peace. It made me want to know her and it made me want others to feel the same way about me. (does that make any sense?)

___________________________________________________________________

I was so relieved when the weekend was over and Mr. Small went back to work. It seems like such an effort to just be in the same space with him. He finally moved the X-Box to the master bedroom (which is "his room" now). I was relieved. He stayed in there playing until 'Surface' came on.

I'm really looking forward to my trip to Chicago -- a whole week away! Of course, I'll miss my baby terribly, but I won't have to spend one single moment feigning interest in some innane conversation with Mr. Small. It won't be long now -- December should bring Independence Day for me.

___________________________________________________________________

Thought for the Day:
If my dreams could all come true
Paradise would be
In a little bungalow
Somewhere by the sea.

D. Morgan (c) 1993
from a pen and ink print that hangs on my office wall

Universal Secret Revealed

Mark your calendars, folks. From henceforth and forever more, October 22, 2005 shall be known as X-Box Cessation Day. Be it known that, after months and months of research into the number of hours a grown male can play the same X-Box game, a conclusion has finally been reached. A 40 year old male has been witnessed playing Halo II virtually non-stop from 5:00 am until 11:30 pm -- a startling 18.5 hours. The game was only paused for the following:

• Junk food ingestion (3 times)
• Alcohol ingestion (1/2 bottle of Glenlevit and several beers)
• Elimination of above referenced items
• Communication with other techno geeks (2 trips to check e-mail)

At 11:32 pm, the subject was overheard proclaiming: "I'm tired of playing this game."

It should also be noted for the record that the phenomenon of X-Box Cessation seems to last a mere 6 hours, as the subject was once again discovered playing the SAME game by 5:30 am the following morning. At this time, the NIH is looking into possible treatments for this disease; however, a cure is likely decades in the making.

Blank... nada... nothing... zip...

That's what I've come up with for today's post. How I wish that I had something witty, or thought provoking or even mildly amusing to write... but all I can do is sit here and stare at the blank screen, with its mocking little cursor, blinking... blinking... blinking.

Stop blinking at me... I mean it... STOP!

STOP IT THIS INSTANT!!!

STOP OR I'LL SHOOT!
















B-BYE!

Fun Friday!!!

I saw this on Becoming Kate earlier in the week and thought it might be good for Fun Friday. What you do is Google your name, followed by the word ‘needs’ (it's best to put the phrase in quotation marks). Here are the top ten results for what Lauren needs…

1. Lauren needs a friend. (with benefits????)
2. Lauren needs someone to take the pressure off of her
3. Lauren needs a hot kiteboarder… (well, okay, if you say so!)
4. Lauren needs your help (i.e. SEND MONEY!)
5. Lauren needs to have more female friends (or not – women can be so bitchy!)
6. Lauren needs to wake up and smell the coffee (this morning it was Vanilla Cream, thank you very much)
7. Lauren needs to learn to dial numbers more carefully when calling hook-up buddies to let them know she has an STD (ROFLMAO – As if)
8. Lauren needs to take mood-stabilizing medication. (Shhhh… don’t tell all of my secrets!)
9. Lauren needs some love (Oh, so true… that’s why #7 is laughable)
10. Lauren needs a career path (or perhaps just a career… or maybe just a friggin’ JOB! And by that I don’t mean a job… oh, never mind!)

Kinda scary how some of these are right on the $$$.... and those that aren't are hysterical!

Happy Friday!!!!!

Quick Update

I am happy to report that I got a big thumbs-up from my desired employer today. I leave for training in Chicago on the 30th!

This will be my first trip to the Windy City, so if anyone has suggestions for restaurants, evening entertainment or sightseeing opportunities, please let me know. (Keep in mind that, contrary to my gender's proclivities, I am NOT a shopper!!!!!)

I imagine that my days will be booked solid from 8 am to 5 pm, so I was happy to learn that the Art Institute is open until 8pm! Sears Tower is on my list as well and perhaps Millennium Park. I just found out that Bonnie Rait is going to be in concert the night I'm scheduled to leave. I wish I'd known and I would have stayed an extra night!

I'm so happy I could just bust a move... but I'd probably bust a seam instead. LOL

And You Thought You Knew Me...

I picked this up from Sheri’s site and thought it was a fun bit of me-me. Complete the following sentences:

1) My uncle once: beat the crap out of my cousin at my grandfather’s birthday party. It was the last time we were in their house until my uncle's funeral.
2) Never again in my life: will I get married.
3) When I was five: I was very, very ill and almost suffered brain damage from a high fever. Some would argue that I DID suffer brain damage! LOL
4) High School was: the best of times… High School was the worst of times. I was so eager to escape that I graduated a year early.
5) I will never forget: the sun reflecting on the cloud tops the first time I flew.
6) I once met: Gary Shimakowa, who has directed a whole butt-load of television shows. I actually worked with him on one of his lesser-known and probably best forgotten series on cable.
7) There's this girl I know who: had six abortions while still in high school. She had the nerve to call ME a slut. I never had ANY, nor did I need to.
8) Once, at a bar: I pretended to be deaf to get this LOSER to leave me alone. It didn’t work, but it was hysterically funny. I was accompanied by a deaf friend... just so the ethics police don't gang up on me. LOL
9) By noon I'm usually: hitting my stride.
10) Last night I: let my dog sleep on the bed for the first time. Mr. Small won’t allow it.
11) If I had only: listened to my mother. She was right more times than I care to count! Shhhh, don't tell her I said that... I'll never be able to live it down.
12) Next time I go to church: I will wear my new suit!
13) What worries me most: is growing old alone... that and Global Warming.
14) When I turn my head right, I see: my diningroom table
15) When I turn my head left, I see: out the window onto my front porch. (Sheri and I must have identical floor plans! LOL)
16) You know I'm lying when: Sorry, I don’t even bother any more. I suck at it!
17) You know what I miss most about the eighties: doing theatre, going to cast parties, being Goth before Goth was cool.
18) If I was a character written by Shakespeare, I'd be: Portia, from the Merchant of Venice
19) By this time, next year: I'll be one of my company’s top producers!
20) A better name for me would be: my maiden name!
21) I have a hard time understanding: hatred, violence, left-wing liberals and right-wing conservatives! LOL
22) If I ever go back to school I'll: get a law degree.
23) You know I like you if: I invite you to my home.
24) If I won an award, the first person I'd thank would be: the person giving it to me -- then my parents.
25) Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens & Geraldine Ferarro are: strange bedfellows.
26) Take my advice, never: leave your chewing gum on the bedpost over night.
27) My ideal breakfast is: a traditional Turkish breakfast, consisting of eggs, yogurt, freshly baked bread, beyaz penir (white cheese), feta, olives, tomatoes and cucumbers
28) A song I love, but do not have is: Michael Buble's 'You Don't Know Me'
29) If you visit my hometown, I suggest: a trip to Beach Street USA and dinner at Mahi-Mah's
30) Why won't anyone: take responsibility for their own actions and lives?
31) If you spend the night at my house, DO: expect to get puppy kisses from an amorous JRT
32) I'd stop my wedding for: a sanity check!
33) The world could do without: mean people
34) I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: I would never lick the belly of a cockroach... sorry. Guess I'd never win at Fear Factor!
35) My favorite blonde is: Hmmm... can't think of any blond guys... I think my fav blonde in general would be Charlize Theron
36) Paperclips are more useful than: silly putty... but silly putty's more fun!
37) San Diego means: Saint Didacus
38) And by the way: if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. Love your neighbor -- PERIOD. Life is precious -- don't squander it.

WARNING: The use of spoken language is contraindicated.

I'm sure we all know people who thrive on contradicting others -- you know the ones:
You say it's black, he says it's white
You say it's half-full, he says it's half-empty
You say it's partly sunny, he says it's partly cloudy

But what about those insidious creatures who have raised it to an art form?
You say it's black, he says, "No, it's actually Pantone 419"
You say, "I think we might have rain today." He says, "No -- meteorologically speaking, the high pressure system to our west should push any moisture to our north and then well out to sea.
You say, "that was a pretty song." He says, "No, I found the development to be a bit simple and the primary theme became muddied in the recapitulation."
You say any word contained in the dictionary. He says, "No, I think you mean (insert synonym here, followed immediately by a complete etymological dissertation)
You say, "I hate you, you smug, pompous ass." He says, "No, I'm neither smug nor pompous. It's simply that you Americans don't understand genius."

In cases such as these, the above warning should be taken quite seriously. To ignore said warning could result in anxiety, agitation or serious bodily injury to the responding party, including but not limited to:

• being beaten senseless with a Websters Unabridged dictionary
• being forced to EAT a Pantone chart without benefit of condiments
• being forced to watch "Blue Collar Comedy" for an entire weekend
• being locked in a room with a REAL genius
• having a red hot poker jammed up your ass

Research has shown that the only effective remedy for this condition is complete silence. Do not engage the subject in conversation. Do not make casual remarks and FOR GOD'S SAKE, MAN, do NOT articulate opinions or suppositions!

For additional help in dealing with this deadly disorder, please call:

1-800-KNOW-IT-ALL

Mushrooms, Moles & Mean People

My back yard is filled with these disgusting mushrooms. They’re not the cute little button kind… no, these resemble some sort of alien life form. They’re sprouting up everywhere there’s shade in my yard and they’re taking over! Today I went on a mushroom eradication mission – search and destroy. I was armed with a little digger thingy and a clear yard bag. It seemed that everywhere I looked, these nasties were sprouting… clumped together as if they were conspiring against me... (Note to self: beware the coup) I chopped, I hacked, and I exclaimed, "eeewwwww" while picking up the slimy little bastards.

The job was made all the more difficult by the uneven terrain. No, I don’t live in the mountains, or even on a hill… I live just 10 miles from the ocean… but there’s yet another freak of nature that’s determined to try my patience. MOLES. I tripped over a bajillion molehills, turned my ankles, and called those little varmints everything but moles.

I ask you, have you ever seen a mole? Well, here, look. They’re FREAKY! Just FREAKY, I tell you! Not to mention the fact that they’ve turned my back yard into a frickin’ minefield!

But just as I was bemoaning my lot in life, it hit me that there is a lesson to be learned from these earthly blights. What, you might ask? Well, it occurs to me that mean people are a lot like moles and mushrooms. Think about it:

• They congregate in dark places and shrivel up and die when exposed to light (note shameless allegorical use of light and darkness)
• They’re slimy little bastards
• They love to trip people up
• They try one’s patience
• They’re ugly
• They’re downright FREAKY and, last but not least…
• I HATE THEM!

So there, mean people. Take THAT!

There was a time...

There was a time when I would have believed what you said and felt defeated.
There was a time when I would have cried myself to sleep and felt mistreated.
There was a time when your words would have cut me to the core.
Yes, there was a time, but now you can't hurt me anymore.

~Lauren
(c) iwasborntoolate 2005
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It's happened. I don't know when... I don't know how... but it's happened. Mr. Small has ceased to be able to make me feel bad about myself. Last night, we were both watching a detective show on the "good" tv and we engaged in a bit of small talk. I made a comment about the case, which turned out to be exactly what the prosecutor chose to do -- I casually said, "yeah, I should have been a prosecutor." He said, "no, you'd never make it as a prosecutor. Knowing you, you'd give up the first time things didn't go your way and want to do something else. You simply don't have the tenaciousness (sic) to be a prosecutor." For a split second, my feelings were hurt -- a feeling quickly replaced by anger, and then "I'll show YOU tenacity!" and then, "who the fuck cares what you think, you moron?!?"

After giving momentary consideration to taking the LSATs and proving him wrong LITERALLY, I decided just to be the best me that I can be... but at least I didn't allow his words to send me in to a tailspin of self-doubt. I didn't allow him to push the PLAY button on the little voice inside my head that's told me I'm no good since I was 16 years old (that's a whole 'nuther post for a whole 'nuther day).

I've come to the conclusion that I don't have to prove ANYTHING to him -- only to myself -- and I'm so much farther down that road than I've ever been before.

Secrets...

I don't like having secrets. In fact, I suck at having secrets -- or should I say I suck at KEEPING secrets. When I was a small child, my mother bought all of my gifts for my dad -- birthdays, Father's Day, Christmas. Each time, she would carefully explain to me that the gift was a secret and that I shouldn't tell my dad what we'd bought. Inevitably, I would let the cat out of the bag -- innocently, and certainly not on purpose. One year, confident that I would finally keep the secret, I came running into the room when my dad came home from work, leapt into his arms and said, "Daddy, Daddy, I'm not going to tell you we got you a tie for your birthday!" The entire room was reduced to tear-producing belly laughter. Lauren had done it again! Eventually, I got better at it... but it still leaves me feeling uneasy to be harboring a secret.

Given my history, I'm sure you can understand the trepidation surrounding my current secret - my blog. (At least it's a secret from Mr. Small) I am afraid that, in typical Lauren fashion, I'm going to spill the beans. Inadvertently, I came close the other day when I posted a picture of my puppy -- I linked to a picture on his website, where we have an entire collection of puppy pictures, and then tested it. I realized immediately what I'd done and I walked on egg shells for two days -- worrying that he would track the link back to my blog and that my safe haven would be ruined. Fortunately for me, he's not tracking all of his website hits any more, which means that my secret's safe for now. Let's hope that it stays that way!

"I'm not going to tell you that I have a secret place on the Internet where I tell the world how you got your name!"

Sunshine on my Shoulders...

Makes me HAPPY! Finally, after 11 days of rain, mist and fog the sun has decided to shine! I can't even begin to express how wonderful this feels! If only I didn't have to spend my day mowing the knee-high grass in the back yard... sigh.
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Have you ever had a day where you just can't get an old friend off your mind? Yesterday was such a day for me. I got to thinking about my college days and a crush I had -- an impossible crush, really, because the object of my affection was gay.

He was beautiful... dark curly hair, deep azure pools for eyes and a disarming smile. I still remember the day I learned his secret. I was walking through campus with his brother's girlfriend -- who happened to be my roommate. I asked her if she thought he would ever like me and she laughed... boy did I feel stupid! As the year progressed, it became obvious and I wondered how I had missed the signs. Anyway... we became friends -- mostly because of our work in the theatre department -- but I spent most of my time with him and his posse of friends. We were a jaunty little band. One of his friends even escorted me to the Christmas dance -- all dressed up in his suit and charcoal gray cashmere coat. We had a ball that year!

So, anyway... before I wander too far down memory lane, I decided to find him yesterday and I spent several hours on Google trying to piece together the things I knew about him -- his profession, his last known city of residence... his all-too-common name made the search more difficult, but eventually (thanks to a gay professional association) I was able to find him... or at least his web page and, thus, his e-mail address. I screwed up my courage and typed an e-mail... I had butterflies when I pressed the send button... you see, I have this superstition that when someone's on your mind like that -- where you just can't get past your thoughts of them -- that something's wrong. I was worried that I would learn he was gone or terribly ill or something. So, about an hour later, I was delighted to see an e-mail arrive in my box from him. He shared bits of his life over the past 20 years: the suicide of a good friend, the shared dreams of him and his partner of nine years (who tragically died in 2000) and his current career. It was good to hear from him and he also shared the address and phone number of his now sister-in-law -- my above-referenced college roommate -- with whom I had lost touch.

All-in-all, I'd say it was a banner day. I feel better knowing that my friend has had some wonderful years in his life and that he's doing well. I'm also looking forward to calling and surprising the bejeezes out of my former roomie!

Happy Saturday, everyone. I'm off to mow the lawn now.
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Oh, yeah... I almost forgot. What the hell is up with THIS?
First Blond Bond This just seems so... so... WRONG!

The Votes Are In...

Well, not really... much to my chagrin, it appears that I have NO readers! LOL So, I've made a unilateral decision to call this man who lives in my house, whose name appears on my marriage certificate, Mr. Small. So mote it be!
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For the umpteenth day in a row, it is gray and misty outside. Now, if I lived in Seattle, or London, I wouldn't be surprised, but this is the Mid-Atlantic for crying out loud! I'm starting to get SAD already (Seasonal Affective Disorder). It's depressing as hell and makes me want to run away to a sunny island paradise!

Anyone care to join me? Oh, that's right... there's no one here...

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So.... night number two of sleeping in the guest room... I'm loving it, but I think my puppy dog was a little confused at first... he kept trotting back and forth between the two rooms - not sure of where he should sleep. Ultimately, he ended up with me -- he is SUCH a momma's boy. However small and petty it may sound, it gives me an odd sense of satisfaction to be 'chosen' over Mr. Small. Even now, the little guy is resting just feet away from me. God, I love this little dog!
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JUST FOR FUN FRIDAY: (this made me laugh out loud)

You Are 80% Boyish and 20% Girlish

You have a tough exterior - and usually a tough interior to match it.You're no nonsense, logical, and very assertive.Sometimes you can't understand women at all, even if you're a woman yourself.You see things rationally, and don't like to let your emotions get the best of you.

How Boyish or Girlish Are You?

And the Winner is...

Yesterday, I posted a mini-poll at an online community where I've been a member for years. Most of the ladies know way too many details about my personal life... we're THAT close... so, I asked them to give my husband a nick-name for my blog. Here are the front runners, but I'd love to have additional input from the Blogger community:

• Viper
• Mr. Small
• Turd
• Dupa (Polish for butt, I'm told)
• Dick

If you need some inspiration, you might want to visit the archives and check out this post, this post (scroll to the second half of the post), or this one to give you a better idea about the man in question. At the moment, I'm leaning toward Mr. Small -- for a variety of reasons, not just anatomical, although if the shoe fits...

I'll post the results tomorrow.

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As for last night... I slept like a baby! Although the air mattress made odd, rude sounds rubbing against the head board every time I turned over, it was so much better than sleeping on the edge of the bed, with earplugs and a pillow over my head to drown out the snoring. It was SO wonderful, in fact, that I slept IN this morning... WAY IN... embarrassingly IN!

It occurs to me, as I read back over the linked posts above that some of you may be wondering what all of the fuss is about with Mr. Small. Let me see if I can give you the Reader's Digest version:

• Quit job the day we returned from our honeymoon - unemployed for 4 months
• Got great job in Texas (I paid to move us) kept it 9 months and got laid off - unemployed for 18 MORE months. During this time, he bought a brand new computer, spent hundreds of dollars on his hobby and top shelf booze and took his friends out for lunch every week -- I was eating PB&J's and had to start paying bills on credit. Should I mention that every time I confront him on anything, he reminds me that he gave up his idyllic life at sea just to be with me -- and that if he could only live his life at sea, he would be happy? There's also the incessant "when I win the lottery" shit... which just drives me up the friggin' WALL! Most people I know WORK for what they want!
• We moved back 'home' (I paid to move us) because we could no longer afford to live in Austin on my income alone. It took an ultimatum to get him to go back to work.
• After a bajillion drunken outbursts (the more he drinks, the more irrational he becomes), I told him I wanted a divorce and that I thought he was an alcoholic. We separated briefly, he turned on a dime, started going to AA and became what I now call the Stepford Husband. That lasted for 6 months, after which he waltzed in one day, informed me that he was NOT an alcoholic and broke out a bottle of Glenfiddich.
• Several months later, after a string of similar drunken outbursts (the negativity grows from just bitching about everything, to talking back to the television and contradicting everything everyone says, to ranting and raving about the chaos theory and selling all of his belongings and going out to sea), we reached the gun incident, at which time I decided I was going to leave him. The only problem was the house, which belonged to my grandmother. Mr. Small is a permanent resident alien with family all over the world and my fear was that if I kicked him out, he would disappear and I would be unable to do anything with the house, which was in both of our names.. So, I decided to have it refinanced in my name only -- which required him signing a quit-claim deed. There were a lot of tense days as I waited for him to sign... he did... but then my job started to go south and I was afraid to push him out like I had planned... now, I'm between jobs and so... I'm kinda stuck. Of course, after the gun incident, my parents offered financial help, but then my dad landed in the hospital -- three times in 9 months -- so, here I sit.

So, that's the short version (short for verbose little me, that is). The prevailing issue for me is the constant barrage of negativity that just sucks the life right out of me. I've tried to 'encourage' him to leave me... I've cut him off, been an ice queen... but it doesn't seem to have had much of an effect, save the occasional barb about not giving him any. Truth be told, I haven't missed it at all.

Well, he's home now -- after a two hour dentist appointment to have a rotten tooth extracted -- and he's armed with Vicodin, beer, wine and liquor -- whoopee! He also said he's staying home again tomorrow. Someone just shoot me, wouldja?

Moving Day

Today is the day. For months and months now, my husband and I have been living separate lives -- under the same roof and often in the same bed -- but separate, nonetheless. But today, I'm making a change. I'm moving all of my belongings into the guest room.

Last night, after a week of sleeping on the sofa due to HIS snoring, I decided that I needed a good night's sleep and crawled into our oh-so-comfy queen-sized bed. I put in my ear plugs and was just about to drift off to sleep when HE jumps out of bed in a huff and accuses me of having him "so programmed that I'm waking myself up when I begin to snore" Now, this is nothing more than pure-t, unadulterated horse hockey! He rarely, if EVER, wakes up when I creep out of bed in the middle of the night for quieter quarters. Being up to my eyeballs with his penchant for blaming EVERYTHING that's wrong in his life on someone else, I did something I rarely do -- I called him on it. So, today, I decided to remove the potential for drama from my nightly bedtime routine and just move all of my things into the guest room.

The reason I haven't done this sooner is because the mattress in there is so incredibly uncomfortable that I couldn't sleep on it. However, I had forgotten that we had a double, high-quality air mattress -- so I decided to remove the forty-year-old reject from a torture chamber and replace it with the air mattress.

So, that's my task for today. I'm about mid-way through, but needed a break. I'll update later tonight on HIS reaction to it all.

Oh, you might be wondering why I don't just move out entirely -- you see, it's MY house. When I refinanced several months ago after his insane gun-toting, I'm going to shoot the computer or myself night, I had him sign a quit claim deed. I'm hoping that, sooner or later, he's going to get tired of living this way and move out. Until then, I'm happy to collect his $1600 per month contribution to our living expenses. So, please celebrate moving day with me, k? I'm sooo looking forward to a good, peaceful night's sleep.

Nothing to be Done...

As in Samuel Beckett's, Waiting for Godot, there's just that... nothing to be done... save wait, that is.

I have now completed an entire volume of application forms and regulatory requirements in order to garner the perfect job with the perfect employer. As I handed it all over to the regional manager and inquired as to the deadline for receipt of their final decision, I was shocked and horrified to learn that it will not be until NEXT FRIDAY! October 21st!!! How, pray tell, will I manage to wait THAT LONG????

An Estragon without a Vladamir... how will I ever pass the time?

Rain, rain, go away!!!!

Oh my GOD, I can't take it any more! It's been raining for five fucking days and I'm about to climb right smack dab up the wall! I love a rainy day every once in a while -- it's a great excuse for sleeping in, or curling up with a good book, or watching Dirty Dancing for the umpteenth time... but ENOUGH ALREADY!

It must have been having the same effect on the lady (and I use that term loosely) who did my fingerprint cards at the police station today. Boy, howdy, did SHE have an attitude! I refused to take the bait though, and showered her with praise and appreciation. I even added a dash of Southern drawl for good measure. Who knows, maybe I made her day brighter... or maybe I merely added fuel to the fire!

One thing I can say for sure is that I will be enormously grateful when I can get back to work. I was simply not cut out to be a housewife! June Cleaver would die of shock and horror at my domesticity. My foray into her domain lasted about 48 hours before I proclaimed, "screw this shit, I want a MAID!!!!"

I guess that's all for today... other than to welcome Seshat to my rantings and ravings... and fear not my new-found friend... as you can see from this post, your language does not offend.

Cheerio!

If I Had My Time to Go Over Again

For years, I have said that if I had my time to go over again, I wouldn't change a thing because my life experiences have made me who I am today - but sitting here in the gloomy mist of this Sunday morning (gray, rainy days always seem to bring about wistful thinking for me), I find myself wondering...

What if I hadn't lost my virginity at such an early age -- and what if it hadn't been with a boy from the "wrong side of the tracks" with whom a life-long relationship was highly unlikely, despite my immature imaginings?

What if I had said "no" to going out with that college freshman the summer after my sophomore year in high school? Surely avoiding that abusive relationship, which included rape, humiliation and complete "Sleeping With the Enemy" control of my life would have altered the outcome. Heck, I might even have stayed in high school that extra year -- instead I graduated early to be with him. Perhaps I would have been involved in some fun extracurricular activities, perhaps have gone to a "real" college and gotten a "real" degree. Instead, I descended into a deep dark pit of despair. To this day, no one knows all of the secrets of those years -- no one.

What if I had listened to my dear friend and stayed away from the "lighting guy" on that play?
What if I had listened to my heart and not gone through with the elopement?
What if I had gone to New York, or LA... what if?
What if I hadn't moved that piano? What, you might ask, does that have to do with anything? Well, moving that piano caused irreparable nerve damage courtesy of a severely herniated L-5, S1 disc that had to be removed in pieces because it had trapped a nerve bundle in a crevice in my vertebrae. I spent nearly a year in diapers and another two peeing through a straw.

Today, sitting here in this dreary house, with this miserable man in this miserable marriage I wonder... what if I'd never chatted with Cap'nRon or given him my phone number, or gone to Philly to meet him. What if, after that night in New York, I'd gone with my gut instinct that he was a raving alcoholic - that the behavior WASN'T an anomaly - and canceled the rest of the trip to Turkey to meet his parents. What if?

What if I had the courage to march into my living room right this minute and tell this parasite that I want a divorce -- regardless of the fact that I haven't the means to support myself at the moment? I almost pulled it off last night... but then fear once again gripped my soul. I'm not really sure what I'm afraid of... I've lived through so much, you'd think I would be undaunted by any challenge. I keep telling myself that it's the money... I don't have a reliable source of income at the moment and probably won't for another month or so... but my gut is telling me that as long as he is here, I will never have the fortitude and strength to succeed because he sucks the life right out of me.

What if I had learned as a child to trust my own instincts, to be independent, to stand up for myself, to refuse to be victimized, to be accountable for my own actions and to accept the consequences with grace and dignity? Mothers, teach your daughters these things... I beg of you.

All I know is that I don't want to be looking out this window on another rainy Sunday years from now wondering, 'what if?' Anyone have a good parasite removal remedy?