Rain, rain, go away

I know we're in a drought and all of that... but seriously, enough already! Rainy days just make me grumpy and give me a headache.

I'm looking forward to "wing night" with one of my agents tonight. We're going to eat chicken wings and drink beer and hang out for a few hours. Maybe that will brighten my day a bit!

In other news, A and I are now truly living separate lives. The only time we actually spend in the same room is at dinner. Once Jeopardy is over, he heads upstairs where he stays until bed time. Oh, did I mention that he's sleeping in the guest room?

I'm really missing band practice. Our drummer is out of town til the end of the month. As much as I want to sing with THEM, I'm finding that I have zero interest in getting back to choir or even the symphony chorus. It all seems so dull and boring now and I'd rather work on other things.

For now, I need to work on earning a living... so I'll sign off for now.

When she's good, she's very, very good...

I have finally determined in the fourth decade of my life that I am a fabulous planner and lousy at following those plans through to completion. I have the innate ability to craft an intricate, well thought-out, logical, creative and executable plan, complete with spreadsheets and ROI analysis. I'm even able to implement it... and even keep it going for a month or so... but then I get bored and I want to do something else... or I become overwhelmed at the prospect of it actually becoming bigger than I can handle and I back away.

I'm starting to think that, perhaps, I'm in the wrong business. Or maybe I just need to exercise my success muscles a bit more. I've been putting in place these amazing plans with my partners all week. Now, all I have to do is implement them and make sure they stay on track for an entire year. That's sounds way too much like work to me!!! LOL

I'd much rather just be a singer in a rock and roll band... EEGADS, am I going to have to change the name of my blog????

The Best Book

"It was a cold November, around three o'clock in the morning. My husband was sleeping in our bed. I was hiding in the bathroom for something like the forty-seventh consecutive night, and -- just as during all those nights before -- I was sobbing. Sobbing so hard, in fact, that a great lake of tears and snot was spreading before me on the bathroom tiles, a veritable Lake Inferior (if you will) of all my shame and fear and confusion and grief. I don't want to be married anymore."


"I equal parts loved him and could not stand him... Let it be sufficient to say that, on this night, he was still my lighthouse and my albatross in equal measure. The only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying; the only thing more impossible than staying was leaving. I didn't want to destroy anything or anybody. I just wanted to slip quietly out the back door, without causing any fuss or consequences and then not stop running until I reached Greenland."

Does that sound like anyone you know? Really? How about this:


"I have a history of making decisions very quickly about men. I have always fallen in love fast and without measuring risks. I have a tendency to only see the best in everyone, but to assume that everyone is emotionally capable of reaching his highest potential. I have fallen in love more times than I care to count with the highest potential of a man, rather than with the man himself, and then I have hung on to the relationship for a long time (sometimes far too long) waiting for the man to ascend to his own greatness. Many times in romance I have been a victim of my own optimism."

I swear that Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love was the best, most thought-provoking book I've read in ages. We must be kindred spirits. Thanks to my mom for giving me this Bestseller for Christmas. It's a must read for any woman who's searching for anything in her life, be it spirituality, self-actualization, love, or just something different.

Excerpts from Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert (c) 2006, Penguin Books.

Hypothetically speaking...

Today, I had a lunch meeting with my regional manager. I thought it a bit odd that he asked me to lunch and then drove three and-a-half hours to meet with me just to discuss the weather... so I kept waiting for him to get to the point of the meeting. After I'd discussed all of my successes in '07 and my plans for the new year, he finally got to the reason for his visit: he wanted to find out if I'd be interested in a management position - IF he had one open, which he doesn't at the moment.

After further discussions, I determined which position he was trying to fill and told him that, dependent on the remuneration, I would be happy to consider the job, should it become available.

After just two years with the company, I'm being considered for a management job... how cool is that? Hypothetically speaking, of course...

Can I Just Say, "Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww"

As we began preparations of our New Year's dinner, "A" made a confession. I wasn't quite sure what to expect, since he prefaced it with a query of "how much do you love me?" What he confessed made me want to throw up... he's been dipping snuff!!!! GROSSSSSSSS! I can remember so well asking my grandmother how in the world she could stand to kiss my grandfather and she told me that she made him wash out his mouth before she'd even come close!


I fear that my response wasn't very mature. I was disgusted. Then, I recalled my admonition to him earlier in the day that he had something in his teeth. He said it must have been pipe tobacco and I, like an idiot, bought that! He must have gotten nervous that I was on to him (honestly, I was clueless).


One of the best looking guys at my high school lost half his lower face and half his tongue to mouth cancer. I really thought "A" had better sense than this.


BLECH!!!!!!!!

DON'T DIP SNUFF!!!!!!

Strangers in the Night

Tonight we went out to dinner. Even in the aftermath of a migraine, I ended up driving so that he could play with my new Christmas toy -- a GPS unit. We arrived at the restaurant and sat down... ordered drinks and after a couple of stilted attempts at conversation, resigned ourselves to the occasional comment about the food, service or cranky children sitting behind us. It was sad to think that after 7 years of marriage I couldn't come up with one single thing to talk about. I listened to the conversations around us and felt awkward and uncomfortable in our silence.

We came home and I picked Dirty Dancing -- my favorite bad movie in all the world -- as our "movie of the night" and he promptly fell asleep. As I watched the sweet love story unfold, I sat and cried... not because the movie was sad, but because I am so incredibly unhappy.

He's now gone up to his new office where he's been sleeping every night on the giant sack chair I got him for Christmas and I wonder what the hell we're doing and why.

I've cancelled my vacation for next week. I just couldn't imagine an entire week alone with him. We are truly strangers now and it breaks my heart.

It's all my fault

Last night was A's company holiday party. I finally succumbed to the flu on Thursday night and stayed home from work on Friday... so I wasn't feeling up to going. I should have seen it coming, but somehow I just wasn't very observant and missed the end-around. After whining to the dog about me not going with him, he started to get ready and asked me which shirt he should wear. I gave my opinion, with which he, of course, argued - because he argues with everyone about everything -- including experts in every field. When I refused to take the bait and argue, he got mad and decided he wasn't going to the party after all. Then he stormed off to the liquor store, came home and headed straight upstairs to his office, where he stayed for the remainder of the evening.

Today hasn't been much better - although I did manage to get a home-cooked breakfast amid the complaints about the cost of it and the cursing and ranting and raving that went along with the cooking of it (always makes the meal so much more tasty!) After just three weeks of him being back in the house, I'm already finding myself escaping to the bathroom for a good cry.

It IS all my fault. It's my fault for going forward with the move when I knew in my heart that it wasn't going to work. It's my fault for not speaking up and telling him how I really feel. As much as I hate to admit it... it really IS my fault. Now I just need to fix it. Won't that be fun?

A Case of the "I don't give a shits"

Have you ever had days where you just don't give a hairy rat's ass about anything? Here's the list of things I need to do:

1. Get the rest of my business holiday cards addressed and mailed.
2. Follow-up with over a dozen people who've cancelled appointments over the past few weeks to reschedule.
3. Process a bunch of paperwork to get cases released
4. Prospect for new business
5. File
6. Start estimating 4th quarter taxes
7. Schedule 2008 Planning Meetings
8. and about a hundred other items and tasks... including putting up my Christmas tree!

Know what? I have no inclination to do any of it. Maybe it's the bug I've been fighting off... maybe it's the dismal, gray weather... maybe it's that I'd rather be working on the new play list for the band... or maybe it is, indeed, that I just don't give a shit. I think I'll give myself permission to indulge in this feeling -- just for today. Tomorrow, I'll tackle the "To Do" list again. Whew, what a relief!

Honesty

Do you guess it's a bad thing that when he asked if he was bothering me I said, 'yes'?

I've never thought of myself as a solitary soul, but I'm finding myself wishing more and more for the peace and quiet that was my life just two months ago. The ear-splitting action movies and the constant need for approval is wearing on my ever-so-thin nerves.

There's an obvious displeasure about my new involvement with the band and about the hours I keep at work, and there's an increasing level of discontent with his current employer. I can see the hand writing on the wall -- a big storm is brewing. I will be willing to bet that as soon as he's fully vested in his retirement plan at work (March), he will pull another stunt like the one he pulled after we got married when he came home and announced that he had quit his job with no other prospects on the horizon.

He's not a bad person -- really, he isn't. He's just not MY person... you know -- THE ONE. I thought he was... but I was oh so wrong. Guess it's time to be honest about that, too.

Since when...

is "why don't you put up those chips and eat me instead" considered foreplay?

I'm just sayin'...

Hit Me With Your Best Shot...

and other hits from the 70's, 80's and 90's could be heard across the Rosemont Road corridor last evening as our heroine belted out Benetar, Stevie Nicks, Jefferson Airplane, Sheryl Crow, Six Pence, None the Richer and many, many more. Not only did she prove herself a capable rocker, but also achieved the goose-bump effect with some sultry ballads including her rendition of Patsy Cline's Crazy.

Stay tuned for repeat engagements in 2008!

The Little Voice Inside My Head...

said: Lauren, just find a place of inner peace and wait for him to move on.

I never talk to myself in the third person. Who's in there?????

Alpha Dog

Do you know how ridiculous it is to watch a grown man try to exert his dominance over a terrier? This was the scene at my house last night: man eating crackers and cheese (dog's favorite 'people food'), dog sitting a nose-length away waiting for a crumb to be dropped, man yelling at dog, dog ignoring man, woman calling dog, dog ignoring woman, man screaming at dog, dog vaguely moved, man stands up, dog growls... Mexican Stand-off in the living room.

Woman covers her eyes and shakes her head, man heads off to bed in a tiff, woman and dog sleep in guest room.

Welcome to my world.

Not so fast...

Word to the wise: don't trust a fine needle aspiration biopsy. You'll recall that the son of one of my business partners had one to rule out lymphoma. Well, due to their inability to explain the fact that he had five enlarged lymph nodes, they decided to excise them. The diagnosis: lymphoma. We're still waiting for details -- NHL, or Hodgkin's -- full body scan and consult with oncology are occurring today. Mom and dad are on their way to be by his side.

Cancer sucks!

The End of an Era

Driving down the highway this week, I saw the unthinkable taking place right before my eyes. The center of my childhood social life was being razed. The twisted metal that once was the College Park Skating Rink reminded me of a war zone -- far from the fond memories that were typically brought to mind each time I passed it. The old structure had long since become a bingo hall, but I couldn't help but smile to myself at all of the firsts that occurred there: my first 'couples skate', which meant holding hands, my first kiss, my first broken bone and my first broken heart, as Bill 'couples skated' with Sarah instead of me as Hall & Oates crooned Sara Smile in the darkened rink. I spent every Friday night of my youth in that place -- laughing, playing and learning about life and love, about friendship and rejection. It's been a constant reminder of the simplicity of life -- of happy times -- and I am sad to see it go.

Bugsy

Oh, dear Lord, please don't let me be that woman... the one who ends up alone at 80 with no family and an ancient, failing puppy dog as my only companion. I met such a person today, whose only concern was that his precious Bugsy be taken care of if he died. It was a first for me -- someone wanting to buy life insurance to take care of a beloved pet. Unfortunately, I think Bugsy's owner will outlive him by far. Poor, poor pup... blind, deaf and feeble... but he is everything to this man, who refers to him as his son. I refer to Caleb the same way.

Long live Bugsy!

Don't Drink the Coffee

I had quite an interesting experience today. I spent the better part of two hours at the home of the most eccentric woman alive, helping her take care of some issues with her existing policies. She served me coffee and breakfast cookies and told me story after story after story about how people had taken advantage of her over the years - including the people who duped her into selling her old house and buying the one in which she currently lives. She told me that the house was making her crazy and she told me what she'd like to DO to the people who "made" her buy it.

Then, as we neared the end of our encounter, she misplaced a piece of paper on which she had taken notes. She came so completely unglued that I started to get nervous -- extremely nervous. I finally got in front of her and, in a calm voice, said, "Penny, calm down" (not her real name, by the way). She snapped back to reality and, together, we located the piece of paper. If I had to diagnose her based on my Cracker Jack Box medical degree, I would say that she is likely a paranoid schizophrenic.

As I drove away, I had this momentary bout of panic... I started to feel faint... my lips went all tingly and I wondered: what was IN that coffee, anyway?

Bone Tired

I'm just sapped... worn out... exhausted. Sleep doesn't seem to help -- at least not getting two hours at a time interrupted by Godzilla stomping down the hall to the bathroom. What does he have on the bottom of those bedroom slippers anyway? And who, in God's name, gets up at 4:15 in the morning when they don't have to be at work til 8:30? Seriously, WHO?

I just want to run away to a desserted island and lounge on the beach for a month -- uninterrupted, save for the chiseled boy toy who delivers exotic drinks to me every hour on the hour... and hand feeds me grapes and mangos... yeah... that's the ticket.

Knee-High in Boxes

I hate disorder. I loathe upheaval. I abhor interruption to my routine. That's where I am right now though, knee-high in boxes with my entire life turned upside down.

The first night with Ali back in the house ended much like our nights used to end before he moved out: me in the guest bedroom and him raising the roof with ear-drum-splitting snoring in the master bedroom... and one very confused puppy trotting back and forth between the two.

Methinks it bodeth not well.

How is this blog like a Carpenter's song?

Talkin' to myself and feelin' old
Sometimes I'd like to quit
Nothing ever seems to fit
Hangin' around
Nothing to do but frown
Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down.

What I've got they used to call the blues
Nothin' is really wrong
Feelin' like I don't belong
Walkin' around
Some kind of lonely clown
Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down.

Funny but it seems I always wind up here with you
Nice to know somebody loves me
Funny but it seems that it's the only thing to do
Run and find the one who loves me.

What I feel has come and gone before
No need to talk it out
We know what it's all about
Hangin' around
Nothing to do but frown
Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down.

Words and Music by Paul Williams and Roger Nichols (c) 1971

Since no one is posting any replies, I can only assume that I'm talking to myself... and it IS a rainy day... and I am feelin' down... I'm just sayin'...