I'll be on the lam for a while...

Check back in a month or so and I'll have an update for you.

Friends -- you know the secured locations to check for info. ;-)

Some times I think I've married a madman

Today, more than most other days, my DH is acting like a madman. Nothing tragic has happened -- at least nothing anyone in his or her right mind would consider tragic -- but to my DH, it seems the world is ending. I think it started with a foul-up at work -- one for which he was responsible, but for which he deflected the blame (pretty standard stuff for him - deflecting the blame that is, but this foul-up was a biggie). Then there was another mistake -- this one involving computers and software upgrades. I won't go into all of the details, but due to Operator Error, he lost a significant amount of data and some downloaded programs. Now, I would be very upset by this -- I might even slam a door or two and use a few choice curse words -- but I don't think I would load my gun and place it beside the computer. Nor would I decide that the only solution to the problem was to plan to sell all of my worldly possessions and escape on a seagoing vessel.

There have been several moments today where I have half expected to hear the gun go off -- but as I write this, I'm not convinced that it would have been pointed at him -- I think it's more likely to have been pointed at the computer. He's already slung several items across the room and beaten his keyboard like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. Just now, he waltzed in to my office and made spurious threats against the software developers (none of whom he knows and please understand that he NEVER follows through on ANY of his threats -- he's just a big bag of wind) -- talking about suing them for mental anguish or blowing out their brains. I know this is probably the half gallon of Sangria combined with the half bottle of cognac talking... but he really did frighten me today. He once again tried to engage me in an argument about being trapped in this house and talked about wanting to sell it because it's never brought him anything but bad luck. For once, I didn't bite. I told him that he was being irrational and that I wasn't going to engage in a conversation with him until he calmed down.

He seems to be a bit better at the moment -- but, honestly, I just don't think I can do this any more. I was trying to wait things out until I got my new career off the ground -- now I'm thinking I should probably find a job that pays enough to meet my bills and end this craziness. Although I've never for a moment thought that he would hurt me -- I just can't stand walking on egg shells wondering what it will be that sets him off next. And if he DID ever fire that gun in the house -- either at himself or an inanimate object -- I wouldn't want to be the one to have to call the cops on him.

Yes, some times I think I've married a madman and then there are days like today where I KNOW I have! Crimeny!

Weeds: the poor man's psychotherapy!

I've rediscovered a really cheap form of therapy -- at least for me -- pulling weeds! After having an absolute piss-ripper of a migraine yesterday and going to bed around 7pm last night, I awoke this morning feeling fabulous! I grabbed a cuppa and headed outside to tackle the front flower beds, which resembled a miniature jungle!

There's something therapeutic about removing things that don't belong and restoring order -- and there's something incredibly gratifying about ripping unruly weeds from their foothold -- roots and all -- and tossing them gingerly over my shoulder into the waste heap. I don't recall thinking anything in particular as I toiled away in the sweltering 90 degree heat -- but I did have a wonderful sense of relief and accomplishment when it was all done.

Whatever had been bothering me these past few weeks -- whatever that sense of doom -- it's gone now. Thanks to a pile of weeds, my life seems more in control and I am at peace. I wonder how many therapy sessions it would have taken at $150 a pop to accomlish the same thing?

What's the point?

You get up each day, shower, dress and get into a box with wheels that hurtles you through space at 65 miles per hour until you reach another box, where you spend most of your day talking to people in other boxes. What's the point? You might say "to make a living" or "to pay the rent"... but what does it all mean -- really?

My husband and I just watched Constantine last night... and it's got me thinking. He made a comment about God being a kid with an ant farm... and there are so many days when I feel like an ant -- moving earth from one place to another until something upsets it and I have to start all over again.

I used to think that raising children would be my important contribution to the Universe. Since that's not happening, I'm hard pressed to figure out what the hell I'm doing here. What's it all about? What's the purpose of it all? Some days it all seems so freakin' useless... meaningless... void.

Can someone PLEASE tell me, what's the point?

I wish

When I was a child, I used to wish I could close my eyes and disappear. I don't know why, exactly, I just remember staring up at the ceiling in my bed at night wishing I could do that. Maybe it was the nights my dad was in a rage, or the nights when I'd forgotten to bring home my homework for the next day -- the days I was feeling vulnerable or less-than-perfect, as I was expected to be.

Even now, I find myself wishing the same thing -- that I could just close my eyes and disappear -- no drama, no death or funeral -- just "poof" -- gone. No more worries, no more stress, no more disappointments or obligations. No matter how many times I practice -- eyes closed tightly, full concentration, no distractions -- I wake up the next morning and realize that I'm still here. None of the problems are solved, none of the bills paid or stresses alleviated... I really wish I could figure out the secret to this disappearing thing... really, I do. It would make life so much easier if I just didn't have to be in it.

My Life as a Musical...

Several years ago, I decided to write a musical about my life -- about the abuse, the recovery, the lessons learned, the joy and the sorrow. After finishing nearly half of the play, I had a sense that it might have some merit, so I made contact with some of the screen writers I worked with at the Family Channel back in the early 90's to see if any of them would be willing to give it a read. The couple I sent it to agreed to read it and they responded that I should really forward it to a former boyfriend of mine who was actively involved in musical theatre on the professional level in LA.

Reluctantly, I sent Kevin the play. He answered my e-mail (which I found astonishing) and agreed to read it -- but said it could take a while. For several months, I remained excited about the possiblity of hearing from him -- even though there was a scene in the play that dealt with our relationship and my reasons for ending it -- but I never heard anything and so, being my usual defeatist self, I let the whole thing go and decided that it must have been a stinking heap of dung and, therefore, unworthy of a response.

Recently, I revisited my work and read through it all -- it made me curious to see what Kevin had been up to -- so I visited his web site (which I had avoided for the two years since I sent him my play). I found out that he is now the co-executive producer for a very hot television show, has since married and is living the life I always wanted to live -- the life I once envisioned living with him.

I'm not jealous, mind you... I AM a bit wistful for what could have been... but more than that, I'm sad... I'm sad that I'm 40 years old and never had the courage to do the things that I truly loved. Whatever the reason, be it fear of failure, fear of rejection, lack of ambition or proper motivation, I have simply never been able to step out on faith and TRY to earn my living being what I want to be -- a performer. Instead, I have settled for safe alternatives... or just plain safe choices, because they certainly haven't been viable ALTERNATIVES to being a part of a creative and artistic community.

However melodramatic it may sound, at that moment I just wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole. There's a part of me that tried to say, "well, if he can achieve his dream, so can I", but this was immediately followed by, "yeah, but he never gave UP on his dream and you tossed in the towel years ago."

How did this happen to me? I know there's a whole scene in my play about the role my mother played in deterring me from going to New York when I was in my early 20's and the role the abusive relationships from my past played in keeping me from going to LA with Kevin... but why couldn't I rise ABOVE those things? I watch stories of great courage and of people overcoming great odds to achieve their dreams and I think, "why couldn't I be like that?" Why do I always run away or talk myself out of every wonderful opporunity I've ever had. Geeze... maybe I need some indepth therapy or something. This is just pathetic!

One thing I can tell you: regret is a bitter pill, my friends... it rises in the back of your throat and threatens to choke you... it burns at your soul and eats away at your spirit. Regret is a dogged and indefatiguable enemy and I have yet to discover the antidote... or even a palliative treatment. I fear that this act of my play may well rival a Wagnerian opera.
Kevin Murphy Desperate Housewives

The hair on the mole on the wart on the frog...

on the lump on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea. That's what I feel like today.

Have you ever had a week where everything you did seemed to turn to shit -- that no matter how carefully you chose your words, people took them the wrong way -- that no matter how hard you worked, the results you sought eluded you -- that no matter how hard you TRIED, you just kept getting nowhere? If you have then you understand why, today, I'm wondering what the hell I got out of bed for. I feel like a complete and utter failure and the turn of events this week could, quite possibly, spell financial disaster for us. I know there has to be some deep well of resolve that will get me through this -- I've been through much worse -- I just can't seem to tap in to it at the moment and I find myself in the midst of a full-blown pity-party... care to join me for a drink!

Facing Forty

Today is my fortieth birthday. Today is the official end of my TTC journey (we called it quits after my miscarriage in July - but forty was always my self-imposed cut-off). It seems that Mother Nature wanted to toy with me one last time before the big day, so for the past five days I have been spotting. My period was due on Saturday and by Monday, she was still a no-show... so I took a test... it was positive, although weakly so. Rather than bore you with all of the panty-liner checks and progesterone suppository details, I'll simply cut to the chase -- today is the first day of my first cycle of my fortieth year. Yep - you guessed it -- another loss.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would face forty as a childless woman. Never did I think that I would face forty without ever having experienced morning sickness or stretch marks or lamazze classes... breast feeding, colic or diaper rash. Never did I imagine that I would go through my life without hearing the sweet word "mommy" addressed to me... never did I imagine facing forty as I'm facing it today.

Quite frankly, it sucks... in a major way... and try as I might, I simply cannot find it in me to celebrate this day. Today, I'm facing forty and the tears just won't stop.

Spot...

to spot... meaning a small area visibly different in color... but what does small mean? Dime-sized, nickel-sized, quarter-sized? At what point does it cease to be a spot? The reason I ask is that for the past four days now, I've been "spotting". My largest "spot" has been about the size of the half-dollar over the course of about 6 hours. The quality of the spotting seems to change as well. When I move from supine to upright, I get a small amount of red flow - which switches back to brown within the hour. Now, conventional wisdom states that anything that is not red does not count as "normal flow" - but how much red is really red? Does a "spot" of red count? Does that automatically mean that the fat lady is singing?

I know that the likelihood of a viable pregnancy at this point is pretty unlikely... but grasping at straws is something we do... we women who have struggled with infertility... I sometimes think that we would argue with God about whether or not there was a chance we're pg. Ahhhh... the insanity of it all.

So, back to this spot thing... do you think that if I only need a pantyliner, when normally I would need three tampons and a super-absorbent pad means anything (voice trailing off into inaudible muttering)

Just when you think it's safe to go back in the water...

WARNING: THIS IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART
You know, I was getting pretty used to not thinking about trying to conceive. I knew we were in the "zone" this month, but since we've tried unsuccessfully for over 6 years, I didn't really give it a second thought. Then came 6 & 7 days past ovulation - I spotted. There have only been three occasions for which I have documentation of mid-cycle spotting... all three were followed by extended spotting and a late period... one of them with a +HPT thrown in for good measure.

So, my body picks the weekend before my 40th birthday to screw with me... spotting started on Friday - which should have been right on time... but no period yesterday... just more spotting... then today - same thing... just more spotting... the spots got a little larger in the early afternoon, but now this evening, we're back to just plain old brown spotting. I realize this is not a subject most folks discuss in polite company... but I'm tired of being polite about this particular subject.

Come on -- either show up, or stop -- one or the other. If the former, so be it, if the latter, I will go to the pharmacy for a test to confirm it. Just DECIDE what you're going to do, you fickle uterus, you!!! Stop messing with a poor, soon-to-be-over-the-hill woman!!!!!

Conflicted

You know, I've always wanted a daughter... a son, not so much, but a daughter, definitely. This was once again brought front and center a couple of weeks ago at church. The youth worship dance team performed a gorgeous dance and there was this one girl who drew my eye -- and I couldn't stop watching her. She was a beautiful dancer and I saw so much potential in her. When they were done with their dance, my heart was just so full of longing for a daughter -- one who might take after me with her talents, but not my fears.

When I was a young girl, I took dance lessons... I was pretty good at it... I LOVED it... and eventually, my dance teacher recommended that I move on to a more advanced studio. I did... and then moved again through an audition to THE best school in the area -- what is now the Virginia Academy of Ballet. I started in a class with girls my age and within the first two months, was advanced to another class -- with girls much older than I was. I didn't know all of the French words for the steps, so I watched others and imitated what they did. My mom was also bedridden at the time due to a serious back surgery... and my poor dad just couldn't get my hair into the requisite bun every Saturday morning. I recall being so embarrassed because my hair wasn't properly done... I was a very sensitive child.

At any rate, my instructor -- a former professional ballet dancer, who had turned to eating and was now a rotund, pernicious troll -- would walk the barre and kick, demean and embarrass dancer after dancer, attempting to get the best from them. I simply did not have the strength to endure this kind of punishment and so began to feign illness to escape. I was such a shy and timid child... I simply did not recognize my own abilities. To this very day, I have the spirit of a dancer inside me... the feeling of moving the body through space with grace and elegance draws me... even more than my love of music...

But I digress... back to the longing for a daughter. Perhaps it's best that I don't have one... poor dear would be the unwitting recipient of a stage mom who dares to live out her own dreams through her daughter... not to mention the fact that I've just started a new career where the paychecks are few and far between and the fact that my marriage is on a pendulous journey between two extremes. I suppose that Kahlil Gibran's statement about children rings true... that they are "life's longing for itself."

Methinks that forty will be a year of acceptance of dreams unrealized and hopes set free.

Alas, I've been away too long...

It's been nearly a month since last I posted. I've been hard at work in my new job for 6 weeks now and, although I'm not breaking any records, I'm starting to see some results from my hard work. I've had a few stumbling blocks along the way -- the chief one being making cold calls. Quite simply - I seem to have a phobia about the whole thing. I even went to a hypnotherapist to try to overcome the nasty bug... I'm still working on it. I have absolutely no trouble calling people who've expressed an interest in insurance -- I just can't go down the myriad lists and "dial for dollars", so to speak. I'm sure it's due to some deep-seated sense of inadequacy or some such drivel from my past or my childhood... all I know is that I have to make 50 calls and day and I don't have 50 warm leads... so that means the bulk of them will be... you guessed it... cold.

There has to be a better way -- but this is the method for which I'm accountable to management... so I guess I'll just have to trudge through and do my best. Does THINKING about calling someone count? Does having the conversation in your MIND count??? Ugh! Why is this such a big deal? What's the worst that can happen? Someone hangs up on me or cusses me out or calls me names or politely says, "I'm not interested, thank you." You see, I just SUCK at handling rejection. Perhaps I should have given that a bit more consideration before going in to this line of work, huh?

All of this being said, I really do like what I do -- the helping people part of it, that is... not the dialing for dollars part. I guess I'll just have to figure out a way to make it work... preferably BEFORE I go broke!!!!!

The Gaithers, God and Chaos Theory

Sorry it's been so long since I've made an entry here. The new job is keeping me hopping.

You're probably wondering about the title, huh? Well, I went to a Gaither's Homecoming concert last night with my parents (Southern Gospel for those who may not be familiar with the name) and it just reminded me how very much I miss singing church music... it looked like such a joyful experience to watch the performers singing their hearts out. My religious views have changed so much these past five years that I don't know if I could perform those songs in church and not feel like a hypocrite... I'm just not sure what I believe any more and that makes me sad.

I tried to have a conversation with my agnostic husband today, but he just gets all worked up and angry and starts spouting the Chaos Theory and it depresses me even more. How in the world did we end up together???

Last weekend I watched a movie called "What the @#^&* Do We Know?", which talks about the correlations between quantum physics and God -- especially as it relates to self-fulfilling prophecies, miracles and the power of mind over matter. One of the ideas that just clicked with me was that Jesus was truly one with the Source and understood that as one who was part of the Source, he had dominion over all of its creation. I was fascinated with the depictions of neurons and cells in the body responding to the peptides created by emotions... some repairing damage and some causing it... and stunned by the depiction of the same particles of water under electron microscope before being blessed by a Holy Man and after... the chemical makeup of the water CHANGED!

Can someone like me ever return to her roots and make it work? I find myself thinking more and more of Jesus as a teacher... trying to teach his disciples that they were children of God just as he was and that if they only believed, they too could have dominion over all of creation... think of the scripture that speaks of faith as of a mustard seed causing mountains to be thrown into the sea... THIS is what the movie was all about... the power of the Source within us all to change things... if only we believe...

Well, my discretionary time is over for the day. It's back to Series 6 Exam practice for me.

I guess I'll have to leave the solving of life's great mysteries for another day.

Circling the Drain

It is an awful thing not to miss one's spouse? Mine's been out of town for five days now and when he called last night to say his flight had been delayed and he'd be gone another day, my heart actually leapt for joy.

It's not that he's a bad man... he's not... he's just a bit on the negative side... okay.. a LOT on the negative side... He's a glass-nearly-empty kind of guy.... everything's always worse than it actually is and the DRAMA surrounding even the simplest of things is exhausting. My apologies for that horrible sentence structure...

I guess it's no surprise that I've found his absence calming and relaxing and downright enjoyable or that I'm dreading his return with almost equal passion. What does that say about our marriage? Wouldn't I be better off not continuing this charade and just toughing it out on my own? Wouldn't the energy I spend trying to deflect his negativity be better spent on building my business and taking care of me and my puppy? I have felt more like the ME I was when we met than I've felt since the day he moved in. I hadn't realized how far afield I'd wandered from my up-beat, positive, loving-life self. I wonder if the positive can TRULY overpower the negative? All I know is that I don't want to be sucked into the negative void ever again... but as his return home looms ever closer, I feel myself circling the drain...

Peace at last

Listen... do you hear that? It's the sound of quiet solitude... perfect peace. It's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard, save the waves crashing on the beach. Today is the third day in which I have been free from the toxic barrage of negative thoughts, words and deeds at work. That, in and of itself, is worth its weight in gold... but to have peace and quiet at home too... THAT is priceless. DH is on a business trip until Friday night and I can't even begin to express how much I'm enjoying the time to myself.

My whole body seems to be heaving a huge sigh of relief.

I am, quite simply, happy.

Beyond Flabbergasted

My last day with the company was, indeed, interesting. All I did was try to balance two conflicting appointments (one made without consulting me or my calendar) so that I could meet BOTH obligations -- one to a client of the Ice Queen and another to a professional organization's charity event planning committee. The client merely needed to fill out a form and drop off some applications and the committee needed my input on the budget and the invitations. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that the client is the easier of the two to rearrange!

After making this decision which was not in direct correlation with the aforementioned Queen's directive, I quickly became the recipient of a new orifice in the general vicinity of my derierre. Said orifice was accompanied several hours later by an escort to the front door. The fact that the client over whom the entire blow up occurred didn't even bother to show up was of no consequence -- I had disobeyed Her Majesty, the Queen of Ice.

The best part for me was that I remained in perfect control of myself. I neither yelled, nor screamed nor cursed. I simply stated that I thought she was over-reacting and that I was sorry to see things end this way. She stated that it was all my doing... I quietly replied that I didn't agree, but that she was free to think whatever she wished. I wished her well and left the building. It was nice knowing that I left there being the bigger person. She, after all, had yelled at me, slammed a door and flung my check at me. I had done nothing wrong, save think for myself.

The worst part is that two men for whom I have a great deal of respect may now think less of me due to this antagonistic little woman. They are partners in the firm. I wonder if they'll take my call? Do you think they'd be interested in "the rest of the story" as Paul Harvey would say?

As embarrassing as the turn of events was, I did have a nice afternoon. I met a good friend for lunch, went shopping, and then visited my parents. Not bad for a sunny Friday afternoon! And with that, I close this chapter on The Queen of Ice and move on to bigger, better and bitchless things.

FLABBERGASTED

So, it's been an interesting "last week" here at the old job. There's been quite a stir surrounding whether or not I merit a farewell party or lunch out or anything at all. Initially, my co-workers were planning a lunch for tomorrow - my last day. That's nothing unusual -- in fact, it's pretty standard practice just about everywhere I've worked. So why was it that my "boss" raised SUCH a ruckus that the whole thing had to be scrapped? She told everyone that "due to the circumstances surrounding my departure" that things should be kept low-key. You would think that I'd been fired for gross misconduct instead of just moving on to bigger and better things with a company that is in no way in competition with my current employer.

But wait! It gets better!! My friends decided that they were not going to be thwarted by this evil-doer and scheduled a new lunch date for the week after I leave -- and excluded the "boss" from the invitation. Well, somehow, she got wind of it all and invited herself to the "no-bitches-allowed" luncheon, or NBA for short. Ok... so I was surprised... but then it just got even BETTER. The evil-doer had the gall to say, "I don't know why we didn't do this tomorrow!" What????? We didn't do it because YOU, in your infinite bitchness, said we couldn't... and now you've invited yourself to our NBA luncheon and expect me to be HAPPY about it?!? You, dear woman, have lost your ever-loving mind!

I am giving serious consideration to canceling the whole outing and scheduling mini-luncheons with the girls over the coming weeks. I'm just amazed at the audacity of this woman... the boldness of her lies and the sickeningly sweet tone dripping from her poisonous tongue. I'm a pretty darned good judge of people - but I'll be darned if I can tell when this woman is telling the truth and when she is lying... maybe she NEVER tells the truth and that's why there's no difference in her behavior.

All I know is I'll be glad to be out of this toxic tundra. Maybe that's what was making me sick. Hmmm... It's a possibility!

What don't dogs GET about weekends?

Did you ever wonder why dogs don't get weekends? I mean, my pup is wide awake at 5am -- just like every other day -- and I simply cannot get him to understand that weekends are for sleeping IN!

I suppose it must be nice to look forward to each day with so much enthusiasm... and I look forward to my weekends... but I look forward to NOT having to turn on the alarm clock and NOT having to crawl out of bed before the sun's begun its ascent. It's a virtual impossibility, however, to get even one extra minute of sleep at my house. Caleb's there, Johnny on the Spot, at 5am, licking my hand or arm or (God forbid) my face... tail wagging... ready to frolic in the yard, chase the birds and then take a nice long nap. I don't get naps. Something's terribly wrong with this picture! Is there a Puppy Training Camp for weekend etiquette? If so, sign me up! I need a nice long Saturday snooze!

When is it okay to bitch-slap your boss?

I'm just curious. Is there a defined set of circumstances under which this is permissible? Is there a "get out of jail free" card for having endured months on end of lying and conniving and condescension? Would a jury believe me if I told them that I'd been pushed beyond the limits of human endurance?

I cannot even begin to fathom what next week (my last week) will bring! She's circling the wagons and I'm most definitely being left in Indian territory. (Not that that's a bad thing, mind you, I'm part Indian myself and have always supported the Native Americans in any struggle -- especially those involving land, buffalo or horses.)

I fear that one more snide remark will unravel my very last nerve and set me loose on the woman like a lioness on fresh wildebeest. I envision an all-out chick fight, rife with hair-pulling, kicking, scratching and name calling that would make a sailor blush. Of course, I win... but not before personally cracking every over-priced veneer in her wee little noggin'.

Whew!!! Who knew I had such violent tendencies?!?

I guess propriety will not allow me to fulfill this glorious fantasy, huh? It was nice while it lasted... if only in my mind.

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire (or should that be fiar?)

It just amazes me when people lie about things when there's no reason to. Now, granted, in principle, it's never a good idea to lie, but there are those moments when it's the safest thing to do. For example, when your mom buys you underwear for Christmas -- one wouldn't dare say, "good grief, mom... couldn't you get me something GOOD for Christmas instead of this granny underwear?" Instead, one politely says "thank you, that's just what I needed." You get my drift -- there are times when untruths are at least understandable if not downright preferable to the cold hard truth.

So, then, why is it that someone would invent a story about something that's a complete non-issue. Everyone knows by now that I resigned from my job at the brokerage... so I arrived at work this morning and the boss' car was already in the parking lot -- something that NEVER happens... but, when I get to the office we share, there are no lights on and it doesn't appear that she's come in. About an hour later, she comes in and I say in a very lighthearted tone, "I thought I saw your car in the parking lot when I came in -- where have you been hiding?" and she fabricates a story about being pulled in to a meeting with one of the partners of the firm. Later in the day, the receptionist asks me how the boss' interview went this morning... I replied that I was unaware of any interviews and was told that first thing this morning, the boss interviewed this blonde for my job. What was the purpose of this lie? I know I'm leaving, I know I need to be replaced, I know that the only way to accomplish this is to interview people. What gives?

Now, keep in mind that this is just one lie of MANY over the past year and a half. She lies to everyone: clients, carrier reps, friends, colleagues -- but it's usually either an attempt to manipulate people or to cover her ass. I don't know why I thought I should be any different... but I certainly didn't think she lied just for the hell of it, ya know? Someone should put a Pinochio curse on that woman. She'd be unable to stand upright within 24 hours. Gack! I hate liars.