My next door neighbor -- the one who blows all of her leaves into my yard -- has removed my property line marker and proceeded to put her tacky-ass Christmas lights on MY property. I don't want to be petty at this time of year -- really, I don't. But first and foremost - who gave her permission to remove the property line flag? And second, what makes her think that I would want that trailer park yard art on MY front lawn?
Some people!
Monday, December 11, 2006
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Time to say goodbye
After over a year of separation, I decided that it was time to have the conversation with Mr. Small about ending our marriage. I found myself thinking that I couldn't truly move on and even consider another relationship until I had closure with him.
I thought it was going to be easy. I had my words carefully picked. The reality was far removed from the calm, quiet resignation I imagined.
Of course, his first question was, "is there someone else?" For the first time ever, the answer to that was not so clear-cut. There really isn't someone else - but there is, for the first time, the possibility of someone else.
For the first time, he admitted to me his loathing of life, his thoughts of suicide and the utter abandonment he feels. There was a time in my life where I would have thought it my responsibility -- my duty -- to fix those feelings, to nurture and coddle and assure. Instead, I told him that I, too, have felt those emotions and that the answer to those feelings will not be found in anything exterior to himself - that he has to search within.
We talked for several hours about why and how and when this all happened. He once again asserted that winning the lottery would fix it all. When we were done talking, there was such a sense of sadness. I couldn't help but feel that if only I could have loved him enough that things would have worked... but I know that is not true - because the one person who needs to love him in order for him to be happy will likely never do so. I pray, though, that one day he may find inner peace and the joy that comes from being at one with your Source.
I wept for hours last night... my eyes still showing the signs of the "ugly cry" this morning - swollen, puffy and red. I wept for what could have been, I wept for the sweetness of his unconditional love for me and for my inability to love that way in return. I wept for the depth of his despair and for the little boy who's crying out to be loved and held and not sent away -- and I wept for sending him away once again.
It's time to say goodbye, my love. May you one day find peace.
I thought it was going to be easy. I had my words carefully picked. The reality was far removed from the calm, quiet resignation I imagined.
Of course, his first question was, "is there someone else?" For the first time ever, the answer to that was not so clear-cut. There really isn't someone else - but there is, for the first time, the possibility of someone else.
For the first time, he admitted to me his loathing of life, his thoughts of suicide and the utter abandonment he feels. There was a time in my life where I would have thought it my responsibility -- my duty -- to fix those feelings, to nurture and coddle and assure. Instead, I told him that I, too, have felt those emotions and that the answer to those feelings will not be found in anything exterior to himself - that he has to search within.
We talked for several hours about why and how and when this all happened. He once again asserted that winning the lottery would fix it all. When we were done talking, there was such a sense of sadness. I couldn't help but feel that if only I could have loved him enough that things would have worked... but I know that is not true - because the one person who needs to love him in order for him to be happy will likely never do so. I pray, though, that one day he may find inner peace and the joy that comes from being at one with your Source.
I wept for hours last night... my eyes still showing the signs of the "ugly cry" this morning - swollen, puffy and red. I wept for what could have been, I wept for the sweetness of his unconditional love for me and for my inability to love that way in return. I wept for the depth of his despair and for the little boy who's crying out to be loved and held and not sent away -- and I wept for sending him away once again.
It's time to say goodbye, my love. May you one day find peace.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Poetry -- it's what I do when I don't know what to do...
Talking for hours by a roaring fire
Dancing the dance of lovers
Advancing, retreating, all the while wondering what the other is thinking.
A tender kiss in the morning light
Frost on the ground
Feeling, reeling, not knowing what the future might be bringing.
A long drive alone with time to think
Has it gone too far?
Pacing, mind racing, is it just an indiscretion you’re not facing?
Days go by without a word
Emotions ebb and flow
Anticipating, heart aching, expecting too much? Is he reciprocating?
Too much to do
No time to think it through
Forgetting, regretting, I don’t know – do you?
(c) Oh to be a 40's Torch Singer.
All rights reserved.
Dancing the dance of lovers
Advancing, retreating, all the while wondering what the other is thinking.
A tender kiss in the morning light
Frost on the ground
Feeling, reeling, not knowing what the future might be bringing.
A long drive alone with time to think
Has it gone too far?
Pacing, mind racing, is it just an indiscretion you’re not facing?
Days go by without a word
Emotions ebb and flow
Anticipating, heart aching, expecting too much? Is he reciprocating?
Too much to do
No time to think it through
Forgetting, regretting, I don’t know – do you?
(c) Oh to be a 40's Torch Singer.
All rights reserved.
Friday, December 08, 2006
This is your brain...
this is your brain on pheromones...
What is it about the mere thought of a person to whom you're attracted that causes all of your intellectual prowess to disappear? What is it about the memory of a kiss that short-circuits all logical function of the brain? How Pavlovian is it to become jittery and nervous each time the little letter shows up in the system tray of my computer?
I still haven't confirmed or negated the presence of a wife... but I have received a very sweet e-mail telling me what a wonderful time he had and promising to come visit in January or February. I fired back an innocent query about the person whose name I found in the article. Of course, in the hospitality industry, your weekends are not your own, so I don't really expect to hear back from him until Monday or Tuesday when the Inn is closed.
I really suck at waiting. It's not something I do well at all. I have way too active of an imagination and I create too many stories in my mind. It's sad, really... but it's just who I am.
How many hours til Monday?
What is it about the mere thought of a person to whom you're attracted that causes all of your intellectual prowess to disappear? What is it about the memory of a kiss that short-circuits all logical function of the brain? How Pavlovian is it to become jittery and nervous each time the little letter shows up in the system tray of my computer?
I still haven't confirmed or negated the presence of a wife... but I have received a very sweet e-mail telling me what a wonderful time he had and promising to come visit in January or February. I fired back an innocent query about the person whose name I found in the article. Of course, in the hospitality industry, your weekends are not your own, so I don't really expect to hear back from him until Monday or Tuesday when the Inn is closed.
I really suck at waiting. It's not something I do well at all. I have way too active of an imagination and I create too many stories in my mind. It's sad, really... but it's just who I am.
How many hours til Monday?
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Turd in a Punch Bowl
That's what I feel like tonight. I just can't help but feel that I've done something horrible and I just can't seem to let it go... I want him to call so I can know for sure... I want to e-mail him, but I don't know if anyone else has access to his account. This SUCKS! I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can't think about anything else. Surely there's some OCD in my psychological profile somewhere...
I keep saying to myself: "let it go, Lauren." I can't change what happened... but I can't forget how I felt BEFORE I found out about the wife.
Tick-tock, tick-tock... It's nearly 12:30 am... I need to TRY to get some sleep -- after all, I still have a whole butt-load of business to write before year-end. I soooooooo don't need any added stress right now.
Rat farts!
I keep saying to myself: "let it go, Lauren." I can't change what happened... but I can't forget how I felt BEFORE I found out about the wife.
Tick-tock, tick-tock... It's nearly 12:30 am... I need to TRY to get some sleep -- after all, I still have a whole butt-load of business to write before year-end. I soooooooo don't need any added stress right now.
Rat farts!
Tick, tock, tick, tock...
It's been more than 24 hours... no call... no returned e-mail (yes, I sent an e-mail... it just said that I had a wonderful time and that I hoped he'd keep in touch).
Of course, since yesterday's post, I've located an article about his Inn that seems to indicate there's a spouse... at least there was a spouse in December of '05 when the article was written. Funnily enough, I seem to recall meeting a woman by this name when I first checked in (she didn't take his last name, apparently). Now, I want to hear from him all the more so I can figure out what the hell happened! I soooooooooo do not want to be "that girl" -- you know, the home wrecker, the floozy who messes around with married men. I've been on the other side of that equation and I wouldn't wish that experience on my worst enemy. Why can't things just be simple?
I did, however, receive an invitation to return to the Inn on business to write policies on one of the employees... comped room and all... I wonder what his reaction would be if he walked in and saw me standing there? He just did not seem like the kind of guy who would DO that... but then I've been wrong before... horribly wrong.
Ugh!
Of course, since yesterday's post, I've located an article about his Inn that seems to indicate there's a spouse... at least there was a spouse in December of '05 when the article was written. Funnily enough, I seem to recall meeting a woman by this name when I first checked in (she didn't take his last name, apparently). Now, I want to hear from him all the more so I can figure out what the hell happened! I soooooooooo do not want to be "that girl" -- you know, the home wrecker, the floozy who messes around with married men. I've been on the other side of that equation and I wouldn't wish that experience on my worst enemy. Why can't things just be simple?
I did, however, receive an invitation to return to the Inn on business to write policies on one of the employees... comped room and all... I wonder what his reaction would be if he walked in and saw me standing there? He just did not seem like the kind of guy who would DO that... but then I've been wrong before... horribly wrong.
Ugh!
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Giddy
I know you're probably going to get whiplash going from my last post to this one -- but I just can't help it!
Last evening, I drove up to Skyline Drive for an exclusive dinner hosted by my region's vice president for the top producers on her "Round Table." We went to a very cozy B&B (I won't name it here on the off-chance that someone might run across the post -- I wouldn't want to incriminate anyone!) and had a scrumptious dinner and great conversation. Afterward, those of us who were staying overnight gathered at the bar for a nightcap, when in walked the chef. We all applauded him and he was a very pleasant fellow, so we started talking. Over the coming hours, nearly everyone else wandered off to bed and left the two of us sitting at the bar - still gabbing like we'd known each other for years.
Now, I have not spent one minute with any other man since the ex and I separated a year ago (can you believe it was a year Thanksgiving Day?) and I never really expected to find myself having those giddy feelings again - wasn't looking for it at all -- then as I was about to turn in, he leaned over and kissed me and my knees went weak. Suffice it to say that the evening wore even longer as we tried to weave our way through the "I hardly know you, but DAMN, I really like you" rush of emotions that come along with the first blush of a relationship. (Is this a relationship? could it be? do I want it to be?) So, today, in the wake of my concern for my father, I'm feeling like a silly, giggly school girl and find myself facing the age-old question that I never thought I'd ask again... "will he call?"
Stay tuned!
Last evening, I drove up to Skyline Drive for an exclusive dinner hosted by my region's vice president for the top producers on her "Round Table." We went to a very cozy B&B (I won't name it here on the off-chance that someone might run across the post -- I wouldn't want to incriminate anyone!) and had a scrumptious dinner and great conversation. Afterward, those of us who were staying overnight gathered at the bar for a nightcap, when in walked the chef. We all applauded him and he was a very pleasant fellow, so we started talking. Over the coming hours, nearly everyone else wandered off to bed and left the two of us sitting at the bar - still gabbing like we'd known each other for years.
Now, I have not spent one minute with any other man since the ex and I separated a year ago (can you believe it was a year Thanksgiving Day?) and I never really expected to find myself having those giddy feelings again - wasn't looking for it at all -- then as I was about to turn in, he leaned over and kissed me and my knees went weak. Suffice it to say that the evening wore even longer as we tried to weave our way through the "I hardly know you, but DAMN, I really like you" rush of emotions that come along with the first blush of a relationship. (Is this a relationship? could it be? do I want it to be?) So, today, in the wake of my concern for my father, I'm feeling like a silly, giggly school girl and find myself facing the age-old question that I never thought I'd ask again... "will he call?"
Stay tuned!
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Daddy's Broken
This week, my precious father nearly lost his life again. Save for the marvels of modern medicine, he would not be with us today. Once again, his heart rate skyrocketed to nearly 300 and he lost consciousness. It was his internal defibrillator that saved his life. At his doctor's appointment the following day, they told him that he should stop driving... they might as well have told him to stop breathing.
My dad's been a day-tripper for as long as I can remember. Whenever things got rought at work or at home, he'd jump in his truck and take off for the Eastern Shore, or one of the state parks in North Carolina -- or go for a ride on the beach in Corolla. It's his way of escaping and relieving stress. Not only has this outlet been taken from him, but now he'll have to give up his part-time job as well (which I think he does just to escape my mom's incessant chatter). You see, he drives hearses and flower trucks for a local funeral home and spends days collecting and delivering death certificates.
It is so difficult to watch the man to whom you've always looked up -- the one on whom you've depended to do the hard stuff -- like open things, move things, and fix things -- become feeble and dependent. My heart is just breaking for him -- he's fiercely independent and I fear that losing his independence will leave him devoid of joy and purpose, causing him to deteriorate long before his time. I'm not ready for that... not yet... not ever.
My Daddy's broken and I wish I could fix him.
My dad's been a day-tripper for as long as I can remember. Whenever things got rought at work or at home, he'd jump in his truck and take off for the Eastern Shore, or one of the state parks in North Carolina -- or go for a ride on the beach in Corolla. It's his way of escaping and relieving stress. Not only has this outlet been taken from him, but now he'll have to give up his part-time job as well (which I think he does just to escape my mom's incessant chatter). You see, he drives hearses and flower trucks for a local funeral home and spends days collecting and delivering death certificates.
It is so difficult to watch the man to whom you've always looked up -- the one on whom you've depended to do the hard stuff -- like open things, move things, and fix things -- become feeble and dependent. My heart is just breaking for him -- he's fiercely independent and I fear that losing his independence will leave him devoid of joy and purpose, causing him to deteriorate long before his time. I'm not ready for that... not yet... not ever.
My Daddy's broken and I wish I could fix him.
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