Not a nice girl

Why is it that we women feel the constant need to be *nice* all the time?

I have found recently that all being *nice* does is cause me to live according to other's standards and not my own.

Why can't it be *nice* to do what I want, believe what I want and not pay for other's screw ups. Who died and left me responsible?

While I still intend to be kind.... I'm not going to be nice about it.

It is not my job to clean up everyone else's messes. Not my obligation to pay for someone else's sins.

If someone does something that harms me or mine intentionally, I have every right to be angry.

If I am insulted I intend to stand up for myself. Heaven help the fool who lies about me or spreads another rumor.

Its no longer my position in life to be the CHIEF BRINGER-OF-HAPPINESS or to be in the COMPANY-OF-MISERY.

I am not going to feel guilty because some things come easier or at least seem to come easier to me than to others, I'm just grateful that I have been blessed. ......and when I do something really wonderfully, I'm not going to say "it's nothing" because its SOMETHING. I generally work my butt off.

I deserve the accolades!

I'm not going to apologize for being smart.

Why should I? I'm not sorry.

I'm not going to let other's steal credit for my ideas or worse, give them credit for my ideas to make their sorry egos feel better.

In short, I'm going to start acting a bit like some guys I know.

I'm not a *nice* girl.

I am a fully grown and fully capable woman.

Sick of being sick

I realize that one of the reasons I am still unattached, at least residentially, to a man is that I can be a bitch.

I like things my way. The right way of course. Especially when I am sick.

Right now I am sick.

Some women sniffle daintily into proper tissues and speak softly in a weak voice while resting to the ones they love.

Not me. I work until I drop dead from it, loudly complaining, hacking and sneezing with a sound that is undefinable.

I snort too. I don't want tender words of comfort from him.

I want to be left ALONE in my misery.

I am weak and that is bad enough without having anyone else share in the knowledge.

I don't care if he thinks I need to be taken care of.

I want to die independent, dammit, without anyone seeing me get ugly---verbally or physically (I don't look my best in swollen eyelids and red noses and trust me my smile is much easier on the eyes than my coughing fits and quieter too).

I don't want some guy hanging around dirtying up dishes or making me feel like I have to be sociable (that southern thing I still got going means that no matter what....if I have a guest I must feed them and attend to their needs).

I don't want to work

I want to freaking sleep.

I want to feel comfortable knowing that no man is going to watch me not care if the tissue I just threw hits the basket or not.

I want to be able to wear my ugly sweats that make me look and feel fat. They also are incredibly warm and comfy.

I want to pick ALL the tv shows/movies.

I don't want to be the considerate hostess who lets him pick what he wants to watch. I pay for my own cable dammit!

I hate being sick. Be that as it may, even when I'm not sick I still don't want some man taking over my house. Its mine now.

They waited too long. I've got my strength back.

I make my own money and my own rules.

I don't even think I really want to live with a man.

I just want to have a relationship but one where they can go home or be sent there.

They are good for some things. I am less afraid when he is here.

However I recently got a dog. I expect our little girl to get rather big eventually.

Walter named her Dizzy. I don't know why. She is American Mastiff Bulldog and Minature American Eskimo Spitz. The Mama was the little one. She definitely looks bulldoggish except for the long curling tail. She has her Mama's butt.

She's a lot friendlier than a gun and less hassle than a man when I am sick.

She knows how to handle me when I am sick already.

She lays at my feet or back and looks out for me and doesn't bug me unless its for a good reason.

Why can't men be more like dogs?

Why do they call it falling?

I've been a party to a lot of romances. Some more serious than others.

I've been in-love a few times.

Every time is different. Every time is the first time.

Every break-up hurts a little different too.

I'm still looking for that forever thing.

I must have that spine of steel my Grandpa always said I had...or at least nerves of steel.

Science says we, especially women, are hardwired to want that. I believe it.

In school we were taught that all we needed to live was food, water, shelter...but I think they should include love in that equation. See we also need to want to live. Not that I am suicidal or anything, I have love, lots of it, children, family, friends, and a longing and a hope for that someone one day.

Its frustrating to keep trying and keep failing time and time again.

I feel battered and bruised inside sometimes and no doubt the men I've left behind feel much the same way at times. 6 1/2 billion people and so many of us can't find that "one"........

Love was easier 100 years ago when there weren't so many life choices and we all weren't so self sufficient that we didn't really need anyone. I think it helps to actually need someone when you go looking for love. My independence and self sufficiency have hurt me in the love games. The guys who feel I need them are few and far between, and usually wrong anyway.

I've been trying to soften my heart, learn tolerance and acceptance, been trying to open myself up to dependence.

It isn't easy. I have to let myself fall in love. I have a big heart but falling in love doesn't come natural to me. I've learned too many times that some people can't be trusted so its harder for me to let go of my grip on my heart and let myself drift.

Why do they call it falling anyway?

Its not like that for me. When I start slipping on the grass on my way up that cliff where I just know my true love waits, I get nervous and stressed.

I feel the fatigue of all the years of climbing up that same path and running back down it to safety.

The few times I've stood at the edge of that cliff I see that wonderful ocean of possibility just waiting for me to dive in it. Beautiful waves of hope, the crisp clean scent of contentment, and endless miles to the horizon of happily ever after.

Unfortunately, I also see the sharp ragged edges of the rocks where my previous relationships landed, the boulders of blocked memories and reefs full of crushed dreams. To get to that ocean I have to get past those.

I'm too cautious to fall. If I want to be in that ocean, I'm going to have  to take a dive.


 

I can feel the winds of promise on my back as I stand there...pushing at me...

My body is still scraped and bloody from wounds that never quite healed from the jumps I attempted before.

Sometimes there is one beside me and I know that if he just held out his hand and took the jump with me that I would dive right into it.

I don't think I can do it by myself.

I don't want to be alone...............

 

 

I need a hero...... Someone with nerves of steel.

I seem pretty good at climbing up to the top of the precipice though.

I can stare right into the fathomless depths.....

There is a strange beauty between the hope and despair.

I want to linger here.
Contemplate.

My heart pounds.

                                      I feel dizzy.

It happens when you're not paying attention.....

Y'know that feeling when you knock on the door and no one is home?

You thought they would be.... Why wouldn't they be just hanging around waiting for you to call?

....But that life went on without you for good or ill.

That's kind of how I feel right now.

I've been planning this move for months. The place I was going to move into fell apart though. If I wanted to move into a nice place I should have done it 3 years ago. Inspection proved my error and I can't move there now. So now I have to find a new one. \

No biggie, but I had my heart set on that one. It was like an old friend. I knew I could have it anytime I wanted, that it was just there...waiting on me.

The apartments all around it contain real friends of mine. In this one though, interlopers came and tore it apart. Like a deserted friend who turns to drugs or drink in loneliness. Somewhere in there is the place I loved but it is surrounded in a mess that I want no part of.

I suppose I shouldn't give humanity to inanimate objects. I was just really hopeful about living there. Now I sit here with half of my stuff packed up. I don't have to leave but I want to.

I am going through all the motions of preparation. Packing. Planning. Spreading the word. I haven't made appointments to see other places yet though. Next week is soon enough. Maybe I've grown too comfortable in the ghetto. I don't know.

The ghetto is not a good place to raise my son, but in some ways I think it would make a better man out of him. Right now I am thinking it through. Part of the problem is this house. It is run down. It needs new carpet, serious repairs, painting and insulation.

If I had a man around I'd probably stay. The rent is cheap and the neighbors are getting somewhat better. There are thugs about but they are everywhere downtown....not much I can do about that. The *kid* and I both like living near down town.

I have an extra bedroom.... I could consider a room mate. I won't though. I'm not sure it would be a good idea for my youngest child. I don't want too many people influencing him. I'm particular about who I let really talk with him, it could contradict the morals and beliefs I am teaching him. I take my job as a parent seriously. A roommate would also interfere with my bigger dreams. I don't want to be encumbered by unnecessary responsibility if I ever find the man I can build a life with. 

So its time to look again. I have no energy for it.

Like a spoiled little kid I want what I want.

The cosmos really seems to think I need change though.

I feel like stomping my feet.

Moving Process

I'm in the process of moving.

Not far. Going through everything I own. It kind of makes me reflective.

Long story short. A little over 3 years ago I quit a long angry marriage. I couldn't take it anymore. A little over 2 years ago I quit an even longer job working in criminal law. I couldn't take it anymore. Then I took off 8 months of living responsibly and went through my savings. I couldn't afford it anymore. About a year and a half ago I began picking up the debris of my life.

I had pretty good reasons for the things I did. At the time, those actions were my best choices. My marriage was Hell and my then preteen (and autistic) son was constantly being threatened with violence. My job with the lawyers was overwork and underpay, not to mention the stress level with all the changes going on in the lives of my youngest son and myself. We needed the time I took off and I needed to change jobs. I just couldn't deal with the guilt involved when you help people who hurt other people. Living with relatives at first, then moving back to the ghetto (where I was mostly raised) has reminded me that I don't want that kind of life.

When my oldest two were very young, I worked hard to get out of this area and to eventually make sure my kids would never have to deal with that kind of abject poverty again. For the most part I was successful.

I'm successful again. I'm moving out of the ghetto. Not quite to Park Avenue but close. It was good for my youngest son to get a taste of this life I think. He was born to me when I was already 30 and on my way. He thought money grew on trees and lived a charmed life really. I spoiled him because we both almost died the day he was born and I was grateful to have him. Besides he really is a sweet kid and its hard to deny him anything.

So the forced denial gave him some character and a reason to be the best he can be so he doesn't have to come back again. Meeting people from different walks of life other than just the upper middle class life we were living before has taught him the value of humanity and to look for cause when people behave badly. He's learned to forgive human foibles. My older kids learned that by 5 and 8 years old.

I did take a different sort of job, not as prestigious as my prior job. People don't look at me at awe when I name the building I work for like they did when I named the lawyers I worked for. I am expendable here.

The lawyers still call me for help, I gave up the job not two men who have always treated me with the love of indulgent older brothers and the respect of trusted colleagues. The pay and benefits at this job are better though. The responsibility is about equal, but I have people who share it. I still have to deal with people I am not proud to associate with on occasion. Those snobby born-with-a-silver-spoon types who have no clue that they actually contribute to the making of the murderers, rapist and thieves I hated working for. Mostly its business class people, like me. The Heart of America.

I have varied work responsibilities and enjoy what I do. I still bring it home once in a while but I don't wake up in the middle of the night from it.

I'll miss the rawness of this area, its kind of addictive when it isn't dangerous. There are many who live here only because of a lack of opportunity and money. I made friends early on who helped to pull me up to where they were. I didn't earn every break I had. I have been blessed.

Most of the neighbors I am leaving are salt of the Earth. They make do with what they have and they work harder in an hour than I do all day.

I don't belong here though. I still forget to lock my door sometimes. I'm not as tough as I once was. My child will never be.

I'm throwing a lot out and giving stuff away. I feel like a snob in a way because I hate living this way and can't wait to get out of it. I can't wait to have nice things again. Maybe not as nice as they were when I lived in Stepford... but nicer than what I have now.

 I'm moving up... moving out... In the right direction again.

I'm not going to forget the miles I had to walk to get here though.

A simpler time

I go on and on about my complexities. It's not bragging, its whining.

I would have been better born in a much earlier time.

I have morals. I hate all the pressure on women today. I hate what we are turning men into. I hate that kids are running the world.

I, believe it or not, get sick of technology. I'm scared to leave my door unlocked.Yet--- I'm always wired. I have a cell phone I need to keep on my person at all times. Its not just for my children. Its for everyone. Even my privacy is haunted with the specter of being needed immediately. Employers today may not say so, but in truth, we are *on call* 24-7. Family and friends used to drop in on each other for coffee. Now we just speak through headsets at each other and make empty promises to *get together soon*. My best friend and I were doing that yesterday. We live about 5 miles apart and we haven't seen each other for a year! (I do intend to remedy that). When we were kids and teens we couldn't see each other enough. Our phone calls were *I'll be over in 10 minutes*. I need to take ten minutes to hassle her in person one day soon.

I've been working hard on simplifying my life.

I've almost quit driving. I live downtown where I work, so that wasn't too bad. I've lowered my housekeeping standards so I can spend that time talking with my neighbors. I have quit working at a high stress job major time job for a different position that allows me a little less responsibility and time flexibility. I've ditched a lot of possessions. I've learned to love paper plates and sandwiches over 3 course meals.

Life is too short. I know this because I know why I feel this way. My cousin and one of my best friends taught me this.

My cousin died at 46, the same age I am now. My other best friend died when she was 37. Neither one was expected to die. I think my cousin just exhausted herself. She took care of everyone. When she got sick it was one thing after another, brain aneurysms, cancers....everything. One day she and I were tipping back the *slippery nipples* talking about our hyper lives and laughing like we enjoyed it. A year later she was dead. That was Susie.

Sharon D. was much the same. She was one of those working soccer moms. President of the PTA. Involved in Church and community more than anyone I've ever known. She did it all. I wanted to be like her. Practically idolized the woman except that in order to deal with it all she got into the uppers/downers habit. One morning she got up and fell down. Her young children found her in a heap next to the bed. The girl who taught me how to dance and helped me run-away from home wasn't here anymore.

I think for a while I was trying to live for them. Trying to be like them. Lately I think that if I don't simplify my life I am going to be exactly like them. Its not worth living a modern life if its killing us off.

Truth is I'm nothing like them.

I somehow fell into a career-girl mold without really trying.

I don't believe in equal rights.

                   I believe men and women are different, not equal.

To me its like apples and oranges...together we make a Hell of a fruit salad, but we are very different and offer very different virtues to life.

We can't be equal because we cannot be compared to each other in a consistent fashion.

I want to live my Grandma's life. She's still kickin' by the way, witty and smart. Nearly 100. She lived naturally. That's the word. NATURAL. She fits into her world. I want to fit into mine. She loved one man until he died. Well actually she still loves him. She never considered it subservient to do things for him, she realized all he did for her. It didn't make her feel dependent to allow him to open a door. He was bigger, it was just common courtesy. She worked and kept the home fires burning. He worked more and kept the outer world (yards, cars and social events) in line. THEY WORKED.

                     That's the ticket. Whatever works.

                                                I don't want to have it all anymore.

                                                                      I just want what works.

Looking for Trouble

Yep I'm actually looking. I have itchy feet and a restless spirit sometimes. It's like I've been good too long. Responsibility is something I take seriously. Seriously. I have children. I have a job. I pay bills. I grew up. Still, where some people have an inner child..... I have an inner juvenile delinquent.

Where have all the *GUYS* gone? (this is a link!)

Seriously. Click on that link.

Remember when real men didn't eat quiche or wear pink?

Maybe I am just one of those women who really appreciate a good whisker burn, I don't know.

I just like cavemen.

I think its funny when they burp. I laugh at fart jokes. I think Jim Belushi is the bomb!

When I run across a *real* guy I don't hold his testosterone against him. I'm much more likely to want to hold it against me. I think I get high off the stuff.

I don't want a wussy boy who wears make-up and admires my shoes.

I want wolf whistles from some messy-headed manly man with a beer in one hand while he holds my door open with the other all the while looking me up and down and asking "What's for dinner baby" like I am the one woman who can take care of ALL his hungers.

I don't want him to be prettier than me.

The guy I am going to fall for is the type who will come out in the pouring rain to get the groceries because he doesn't want me to get wet. He couldn't care less what it does to his doc martens. He probably won't even own a pair. He might even come out in the rain barefoot (maybe even making that gorgeous Tim Allen's barking noise). I'm sure his jeans will be worn at the knees and butt, his t-shirt will probably have some off color remark written across his chest.

His smile will be warm and welcoming though.

He'll be happy to see me. Glad that I am his even if I act like such a girl sometimes.

He will wonder how the car is running but grow bored when I start rattling on too much about the usual BS gossip at work. He'll distract me with lecherous gropes and whisper sweet and naughty nothings against my ear. I'll have to remind him that kids are about because he won't even notice and if he does, he probably won't care.

He definitely will not be clean shaven at 5 in the evening wearing manpris, mandals and carrying a murse!

Girly men are for amazons. I want a caveman.....all man all the time.......

home is where the heart is

I don't want to leave my hometown. Its a small city (though it has a big-city crime rate) where I know a lot of people and have a lot of ties. The truth is I will probably never live anywhere else. I did try it once (for 6 long long years), didn't like it much at all.

I moved to a small town 20 miles away (no crime rate to speak of). I was bored silly. Very lonely. I called it Stepford. I didn't quite fit in with the way too conventional robots there. I tried for a while, when that didn't work I sort of rubbed their noses in my outrageousness. They liked me less for that.

Some of what I love about the city is the cultural opportunities. We have several theatres, museums and festivals. I love the people usually. My job allows me to meet people from all over the world. No jobs like that in Stepford.

I love the wildness and rawness too. So many different races and classes using the same sidewalks. I could watch people interact for days on end. Its loud with sirens ringing and machines humming and the air is full of the smell of car exhaust and factories but there are also the songs of musicians playing on the street and the rich odors of ethnic cuisine, sometimes numerous different countries represented in a one block stretch. 

We can only see the stars on a clear night but we can see the city lights in the worst of storms. Its home. Its all I really know. I miss it when I am gone.

Middle Aged and Single

I don't feel my age. I don't act my age. But there's no getting around the fact that I am my age with all the *baggage* that goes with it. Late 40's.

How did that happen?

When I was young I figured that by this time in my life, when I was (::::shudder::::) old, I would be bouncing grandchildren on my knee,

Paw and me would be planning to retire soon, someplace warm but not Florida, I never did want to be like everyone else. I, of course, would be writing novels for a living and Paw would be a certain rock star, now retired because Gawd knows I wouldn't like dealing with his groupies.

It hasn't worked out that way. I sit here divorced, no hope for a grandchild because my children are adamant about waiting until there lives are very stable. Paw (Bruce Springsteen) married some hot red head and me....I do (:::::shudder::::) math and various other administrative tasks for a living. At least I never had to deal with the groupies.

Right now all I want is the simple life.

To  be part of a  working couple that actually share lives. Its not to be had.

Young single men approach me all the time. Too young. They want an instructor I think. Those who can't teach....but me, I want to do so I send the children home to Mommy. Men my age or older are usually divorced and because after 40 something years they can now handle a dollar or two, they chase after the PYT's who happily spend their money. Usually they are the daughters of the women who wouldn't give these same men the time of day when they were 20.

Its ironic.

The Empty Nest

My 15 year old son, Walter, is making holes in the nest I've built around him.

I've brought three people into this world with the sole intent of letting them go. I've been trying to hang on to this one a while though. Its not working. Doing my job well means that in the end, my job is downsized and eventually dissolved.

I look at him and I long for the 8-year old boy who would look at me in sheer adoration instead of judgment. I miss the 4-year old who would literally jump into my arms and cover my face with kisses. What happened to the 12 year old who brought all his confusions and mysteries in life to me for explanation and coping skills? There is this man hanging out at my house now.

He needs to shave.

"Because I'm the Mom" is not an acceptable response anymore. He asks deeper questions and questions my decisions and whether or not I am misusing my authority, even while he remains respectful of it. This young man is making me question myself and my motivations. I am not always pleased with my findings.

I have been doing the *Mom* thing for so long that I do it by rote. He makes me think and moralize myself like a couple other people once did.

Walter reminds me of another young man who once lived here and idolized me. That young man moved away and runs his own life now. He doesn't really need me, only my love now. I had great feelings of pride and relief the first time I went through this. I had done my job, fulfilled my purpose. It was no longer my personal responsibility or financial responsibility to take care of him 24/7. He could do it on his own because I taught him well. Richard was always a good boy and now he is a good man.

Walter questions me much like his sister once did. I do love those questions even when I am annoyed by them. Profoundness of thought. Thinking outside the box. I taught her that. It was and is one of the most passionate relationships of my life. Mother/Daughter. So alike and so different. To see my own face, like a conscience, arguing everything I thought was true and winning as often as not was to say the least, unnerving. Cecelia came into the world and left my home in the most original ways possible. I felt pride and relief with her as well. She was so powerful and still so feminine. I taught her well. I also felt a certain loneliness. I began to talk to myself a lot then, but it was in her voice. 

My two oldest kids were like night and day, in personality, in looks.

Walter is some weird combination of the two of them. As long as I've had him around I could relive parts of life with them pretty easy. My nest felt a lot larger after the oldest two grew up but never as empty as it is beginning to feel these days.

I find that when I look for men to date that children or grandchildren are a big plus. I don't want motherhood to end. I want to keep my finger in the pie.

Its not that I don't appreciate and enjoy my newly found freedom. I do. I love not having to hire a babysitter every time I need to leave by myself. I love not having to worry every time I lam not the one in charge of them. Its nice not to have to do the constant reminding..."Did you remember to use the bathroom and wash your hands before we leave?" "For the 30th time today pick up those damned toys before I break my neck!" "Be good and Mama will bring you a surprise when she gets home". Those days are over. Now my only reminder is for Walter to make sure his phone is charged on the off chance that he might need me and the more likely scenario that he needs more money or food. "Remember what I taught you baby....make me proud" I never say that. I hope it every time he goes through the door as the time gets closer and closer to the time he will walk away and mean it. All those lessons have become very important.

I can't babysit a near-man. He has to remember my voice in his head.

Lord I hope this one takes his time.

Strong Boys become Stronger Men

I'm not a fan of a soft man. That's right. I don't want to see the feminine side of him anymore than he would particularly like to see my masculine side. In fact the surest way to bring out that tough girl from the hood in me is to show me his inner wuss. The more emasculated he is...the more I am liable to emasculate him further. I have no respect for a man who isn't as tough as me. I have no attraction to one who isn't far tougher. I'm raising my boys so that some other like-minded woman will bless the day I was born. I worked pretty hard on my boys as a single mom. I wanted to make sure they did not (and do not) become mama's boys. They don't take any BS from me. Not that they would ever be disrespectful, they love me. I can't push them around though, nor will they allow me to *baby* them. My oldest never put me above the woman in his life and my youngest never will either. Neither will their women ever eradicate me from their heart and concern. They are just men about it. I want a man at least as manly as the men I raised. My boys don't cry when they feel pain. It would have to be excruciating. They bear their scars like badges of honor. So proud of their own toughness as well they should be. For examples, my oldest son smashed his hand up hitting a brick wall over a girl when he was only 15. He didn't cry about it....he felt that he was stupid acting (he was right) and was more ticked off at himself than anything else and my younger son cut a major artery in his wrist when he was only 8, he didn't cry either just went calmly to his sister knowing she would know what to do. They did shed a few tears when my father died, when 9-11 happened, and tears of joy when their sister survived Hurricane Katrina. They are not heartless. They just don't cry over every little injury nor over spilled milk. Even my daughter and I are like that. In our heartbreaks, my children and I may cry, but we don't do it in front of the one who broke our heart nor do we wallow in it. No cry babies here....the boys are tougher than my daughter and I, but not by much. We are strong. A passionate emotion may bring a passionate reaction...but we recover our control pretty quickly. My boys show tenderness and gentleness. Its never a weakness though. They are sentimental and never forget holidays and birthdays. They are gentlemen like cowboys were, not like suits are. A little rough around the edges including a sharp point here and there, but always willing to help when needed. A woman can steal their heart but never their pride. They are born and raised alpha-males. They don't take orders but are usually the one who give the directives. Calm in an emergency. The boys are steadfast and loyal with their friends and family. Born responsible and other than the occasional bouts of laziness....they work as hard as they play. Both of them had paying jobs by the time they were 14. Their bosses LOVED them and praised the way I've raised them. They play hard too. Skateboarding was the sport of choice for all of my kids, my oldest son (and daughter) were on the wrestling teams (my youngest really should do it too), my oldest has gone skydiving and they all are game for whatever sport or activity is going on in a crowd. They enjoy basketball, backyard football and volleyball. My baby has bowled a 280 (at age 11) and didn't think it was a big deal, even when he won against kids 5 and 6 years older than he in the tournament. You would think all that testosterone would make them aggressive and violent wouldn't you. Truthfully, they have gotten into fights. They win usually. They also try to avoid it usually, with my oldest being more successful than my youngest. My youngest tends to restrain rather than harm, unless it is the unusual situation where the kid who is fighting with him is equal in size/strength. Neither of them like fighting though. Its stupid and a waste when people all should be more accepting. Unfortunately due to communication problems related to the autism, they've been targeted. My oldest is now a 27 year old man and those days are thankfully long behind him....my youngest has a few years to go yet as a Freshman in High School. I am so grateful that he has his older brother for an example of what a real man is. Do I sound prideful of them? I am but no more than I am for my daughter, but that has been and will no doubt be another posting. Incidentally....she met her real man, a friend of her brothers, at age 12 and married him at 20. Now nearly 3 years into it, barely an argument....As strong as my daughter is, she appreciates a strong MANLY man to lean on. He makes her more of a woman because he is more man than most. What I would give to be as lucky as my daughter! Every time I start a new relationship I'm hopeful....maybe this time. Word to potentials.....Look at my sons....Look at my son-in-law.....If you know that you will never be as manly as them....Don't waste our time.... But if you are....Then make me feel like a woman baby! I've been waiting on you....

Long Distance Relationships

And ever has it been that love knows not

its own depth until the hour of separation.

~ Kahlil Gibran

Long distance relationships are difficult to say the least. Both parties have to work harder. There are a lot of natural obstacles to overcome. Time and distance are just the most obvious, and really the easiest to overcome.

This is the sad bed of chosen chastity

because you are miles & mountains away. ~ Erica Jong

To make a long distance relationship go long term the parties must absolutely trust each other. It is hard enough to fight the specter of jealousy when one can actually check up on the other party. In a long distance relationship a person really needs to provide the reassurance and the contact necessary to assuage these feelings in the one he or she loves. You must keep your behavior above reproach. Lover's jealousy games are not acceptable when you can not be together for whatever reasons. In fact, they are cruel.

The heart may think it knows better:

the senses know that absence blots people out. ~ Elizabeth Bowen

Its harder to communicate over the phone and (horrors) through text messages and e-mails than in person. Things are easily misconstrued (not to mention annoyingly shortened and misspelled). Not only must write what you mean and mean what you write, you must screen all communications for those little double-entendres that can make something insulting out of an affectionate ribbing.

Assumptions are the termites of relationships.

~Henry Winkler

I try to avoid these types of relationships but have ended up in them time and again simply because my needs are so specific that I have to search far and wide to find not only a man I can put up with, but one who can put up with me.

Absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones,

as the wind blows out the candle and blows up the bonfire.”

~ Francois de la Rouchefoucauld

Unfortunately it still tends to be dead-ended. Most men I am interested in are in their own professional careers and/or wrapped up in family ties. So am I. No one ever really wants to move out of their life into mine, and I don't want to move out of my life either.

[voice over] How’s your sunset?

Kate: It’s perfect.

Alex: I only wish you were here

to share it with me.

~ Keanu Reeves/Sandra Bullock, The Lake House

Sometimes I feel like I am in between the proverbial rock and hard place.

I looked in all the places you aren’t.

I just can’t find the places you are.

I only know that you are where I am not.

~ Winnie the Pooh

Bummer

Longing

Love is scary. Truth is even worse. It takes a lot of courage to keep trying.

I have a lot to offer a man. I read these personal ads (on the internet we call them *profiles*) and these men are all about wanting me....except I am not busty, I smoke and I have *baggage* (read a child that lives with me). Oh and while they claim to want passion, they certainly don't want any *drama*. The rest of their requirements...I can easily fill and then some. Attractive X Decent Body X Sexy X Honest X Fun X Kind X Makes Own Money X Not a "Gold Digger" X Intelligent X Sense of Humor X Passionate X (problem here is, that its attached to *DRAMA*) Likes Sports X and Motorcycles X Playful X Decent X Faithful X Owns Dresses/Skirts X Has Own Friends X Not Clingy X Still Affectionate X Romantic X Good Mix of Dependency/Independency X Can Cook Well X Crafty and Artistic X Cleans (well passably) X Loves Animals X ETC. ETC. Really I am pretty spiffy. I want to make my man feel like a freaking KING. I want to spoil him completely rotten for all other women but me. I want to wear his body out, inspire his actions and stimulate his mind. I want him to be pleased with me and proud of me. What more could a man want right? Yep..... Here I am damn near close to perfect except, I'm not: Good at ego stroking; Willing to sleep with every guy I meet (not even most of them!); Pretending to be stupid (see: ego stroking); Willing to financially support a deadbeat; Going to lie to make him feel better when he deserves to feel worse; Putting up with ANY abuse against my children, his children or me; Some Guy's Maid, Gopher, Prostitute/Mistress, Scratching Post, Valet, Punching Bag; Changing who I am to suit the way he thinks I should be; Quitting smoking unless I (as in me and me alone) want to and choose to; Staying with anyone who uses illegal drugs or is drug and/or alcohol addicted; Kissing Ass to get along; Changing my diet; Ignoring my children, no matter how old they are; Going to lie about my life and/or the people in it; Accepting less than total commitment from the one who gets it from me; Willing to sit in the shadows of his life; Willing to sit at home by the phone and wait wait wait; Blind; Deaf; Stupid; Sharing him with anyone else romantically or sexually; Settling for less than I deserve, less than I give out Asking for more than I am willing to give back or put up with. Tell the truth.... I'm going to be alone forever aren't I? C'est la vie!

the big X (repost)

I figure my life is almost but not quite half over. Which means I still have just as much time left as I've wasted. I truly do expect to live close to 100. The women in our family seem to live a long time, with the exception of my beloved cousin and her mother (whom I got my middle name from). They were exposed to asbestos in the family home though and got cancer from it. The men die early though. Its not that we actually kill them....we just wear them out I think. They last approximately 60 years and then actually have the heart attacks they say we've been giving them for years. The grandmother I was named after, my natural father's mother, was a royal bitch. She didn't have a kind word for me until about a week before she died at just under 100 years old. She was a brilliant woman though, evil but brilliant. My daughter hates clowns with a passion, so Grandma gave her one for every birthday or holiday. Lovely woman. She did like my boys. Boys are better somehow. She was mean to her daughters too. I never met my poor grandfather, Clyde. He died before I was an adult and developed a relationship with my father. I've only heard wonderful things about him though. My father died a few years after my grandmother. I loved him dearly. He was everything I hoped he would be when I finally was able to have a relationship with him in my 20's. I miss him like I do my grandfather and my best friend who are also gone from this world. He wasn't that old (grandma had him late in life, she was nearly 50!), cancer got him. My mother's mother is now in her mid 90's. She has smoked since she was 10 or 11. She started breaking all the rules long before that. She is a wonderful crotchety old woman who still has her wits about her, even if her legs are starting to give her trouble now. She still has living sisters, one is older. There are tons of stories of crazy and daring women in my family and they all seem to have this long-life genetic thing. My whole point is I am one of the spicy women found in both sides of my family that will probably live as close to forever as humanly possible. Only the good die young you know. Unless of course, someone shoots our ass. I'm not quite bullet-proof. Still I think I fall into that history of powerful woman in our family. I don't have an x gene I have an X gene. It's my heritage and my legacy to my own daughter. I figure I still have time to do some of the things I wish I had already done. I'm going to find the romantic and passionate love relationship that I so want and so need. I'm going to make the second half of my life better than the first half. One day I'm going to make a list. Like that movie ....the bucket list...
John Mayer Lyrics

Strong Enough? (repost)

Most of the guys I talk with will never get past the talk stage with me. They all hope they will. Most of them believe they will be able to sweep past my defenses with their charm, arrogance or wit. I do so love the daring-do types. I’m not stupid though. I want to see inside their heads before my body gets too involved. My body isn’t where my brains are. I want to make sure that they are consistent in what they say. I want to make sure that I can agree with the basic beliefs and tenets they hold. I want to make sure they are *strong enough* to be my man. I'm just not that easy to love..... I wish I were less complicated....I’ve been blogging for years... I thought blasting things out to the world would somehow make me better for a time....not sure whether it did or didn't. I'd like to think that catharsis is good though. I’ve deleted more than I have left now. I'm too passionate. I know that. What I don't know is how to fix it. I love too much....need love too much. I'm demanding in a lot of ways....but I think I give it back. I want to. I try to. My history is so convoluted. I can't change that. Some things taint you in unexpected ways. You think you are ok and then you realize that nooooooo normal is not like you. You wake up and aren't sure where the dreams and nightmares actually end. You confuse pleasure with pain and you confuse lust with love. Sometimes you can't tell the truth from lies. You went to sleep thinking that all was right in the World and you wake up wondering if today is the day the World will end. You question God. You second guess *the plan*. You wonder what the point is in being good....but you can't bring yourself to risk letting go of your Grandpa’s wisdom....no one else ever loved you that much..... You always wonder....question....ask *What if*. Sleep eludes you. And sometimes you wake up screaming. I need to find someone who is similarly tainted I think....someone who is like me....or maybe what I need is to find someone who hasn't been damaged at all.... I hide myself and then I show all of myself at once...just before I put on a mask. Sometimes I'm really ugly. Not easy to love.....but I need it so much..... How am I ever going to find a man who can put up with me?

Faces of Hope (repost)

HOPE has two faces. Someone once said something to the effect that without Hope there is no Despair. It’s a profound thought. I say that without Hope there is no Joy. I try to stay on HOPE’s good side.

Do you remember the story of Pandora? When she opened that box, she let out all the evils except one: HOPE. The Greeks considered HOPE to be as dangerous as all of the world's other evils. Still, while HOPE was still in the box and all the other troubles were visited upon the world, humanity was desolate and desperate....Imagine the relief when Pandora finally returned to that box and let HOPE out to join the rest! Even though HOPE wasn’t strong enough to get out of the box right away, in the end it proved stronger than all the other ills that had been unleashed upon the world! Only Hope could give mankind the strength to face the rest of the World’s evils and to fight it’s way from the prisons of desolation and despair. So why did Zues put Hope in the box in the first place? In *All Too Human*, Friedrich Nietzsche proposes that Zeus did not want man to throw his life away, no matter how much the other evils might torment him, but rather to go on letting himself be tormented anew. To that end, he gives man hope.
I can relate but I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. I am a Christian at the core. Maybe not a right-winged Bible thumper, but I am a Christian. I believe in God. I believe in Jesus. Maybe I don’t believe it the way it is so often preached, but I do believe the Bible is Truth...maybe not exact truth as humans see it, but it is divine truth. The inspired writings of Paul contains words I live by. In fact it is my favorite Book and Chapter of the Bible. In the 13th Chapter of his 1st letter to the Corinthians Paul writes:
(11) When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child, when I became a man, I did away with childish things. (12) For now we see in a mirror dimly but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known, (13) but now faith, hope, love, abide these three; and the greatest of these is love.

There are 3 abiding spirits that God has given us to accomplish our purposes in this world and to have the strength to deal with life in this world. I’ve worked on Faith and I will continue to do so.... I am always working on Love, all types of love...but Hope, that I have taken for granted and cursed whenever it left me. I want to be friends with it now. I never realized its strength or power until recently when I’d all but given up and had it returned to me without deserving it or even asking for it back. That is Grace in action....the free spirit..
Hopefully, I will come out of this a better person.
Quote for today:
Beginnings are scary. Endings are usually sad, but it's what's in the middle that counts. So, when you find yourself at the beginning, just give hope a chance to float up. And it will.

--Birdee Pruitt (Sandra Bullock) Hope Floats

The Magical Power of EST (repost)

I have a very jealous and competitive nature. Mostly it is kept in check by the fact that I am also incredibly nice and I want everyone to love me. Also, despite my numerous falls from Grace, I am still scared to bring the Wrath of GOD down on my head (sorry....I couldn't help myself....I used to go to a very *hellfire and brimstone* type of church). So usually I don't over do too much. Not withstanding the above (sorry again....too much time in the presence of lawyers), I like being an EST. I have to be EST whenever I can. As a child I was that kid who finished the test the quickEST and practically tripped over her shoes to deliver it to the teacher. I wanted to be the bEST. I wasn't the fastEST runner, but I was the slowEST, so it didn't bother me too much because I was still distinctive....still EST. I've always loved it when my actions or words or even better my whole self was described with one of those magical EST words.... bEST, of course was my favorite. There were also brightEST, sweetEST, sexiEST, craziEST, thinEST, blEST, prettiEST, etc. etc.....lots of words end with those magical letters that thrill me to no end. I've always been by nature, extreme. I've also been shamed and shamefully thrilled by other EST words....meanEST, raunchiEST, cruelEST, nastiEST, you know the words I'm talking about...depending on how they are used and the actual intent.... In my life I've done some wild and/or stupid things. I've numerous scars to prove it. I had the bad girl blog to document some of it (mostly deleted now). I've done cruel things too, that I still try to atone for. I was the girl who went off road bahaing on the top of the jeep. I was the girl who would smoke a joint in front of a teacher. I was the woman who would stand up to the crack head across the street (without enough sense to worry about getting shot). I go out with strangers. I also struggle with the super-person syndrom. I try to be everything to everyone. I have a hard time saying *No*, even when it means going on a couple of hours of sleep a night for weeks at a time. I never refuse when I am called into work no matter what else I need to do....I just do it later and forego my body's natural need for rest. I am a heart attack waiting to happen sometimes. I fight addiction all the time. In school I experimented with drugs. As a young woman, I danced dangerously close to anorexia for a time. I came close to taking up drinking once, but I took antidepressants instead. (EST types are prone to depression because someone else can always EST beyond you....trust me...its not easy being EST). I've been addicted to people too. Smothering was the word that was used. Right now its the cigarrettes. The problem with being an EST type of person is that you can never willingly walk away from a challenge, you never run from a fight, you never turn down a dare, there is no risk you won't take if it keeps you on top of the EST thing. You feel this intense need to always show others that you have NO LIMIT. Truth is rewritten to face the challenge with you. If you are hurt in the process its the price you have already chosen to pay. Its NOT the bEST way to live and I am constantly working on this little vice. The good thing about being an EST type of person is that you continually strive to outdo yourself (ok and everyone else too, friends and family are no exception). You are always looking for ways to be the bEST. That is why I have succeded in business despite the lack of a college degree. It is how I managed to raise, not one but two, special needs sons (severe Asperger's autism) from recommendations of institutionalization to having one who is now, for all intents and purposes, *normal*, self sufficient and self supporting, and another who will be at that point soon. So sometimes its a virtue. I don't want to lose that drive. It's what has made me the bEST when I dealt with the worst obstacles in my life. I am so addicted to this kind of EST behavior that finding a balance is difficult. I get a thrill from being an EST even when its bad. NOT GOOD. I usually don't do an actual damage, other than to my self esteem. I've found that people are more likely than not, going to enjoy most of my EST behavior and I end up making irresponsible and stupid mistakes for no other reason than I like the attention. Its me who has to live with them and take the steps to correct what I screw up. I'm the one who made the first impressions with the mask on. I'm the one who has blown a few perfectly good opportunities to advance my position in business by failing to show off my better skills. I may not cause irrepairable damage....but I have the choice of behaving better. Just because I will have new opportunities and meetings is no excuse to waste the ones I've been given. ATTENTION. That is what being an EST type is really all about. Obviously I enjoy attention. I steal it every chance I get. Maybe its the middle child syndrom. My old shrink said that she thought I did everything in extreme because I was still trying to prove myself worthy of my miracle birth (I was too premature and various other complications), or because I felt guilty because good things seemed to come to me too easy when compared with the *luck* of the rest of my family, as if I was trying to put myself back in my place. Frankly, I think I'm just a know-it-all show off most of the time....but its always nice to have an excuse. Does anyone feel sorry for me for being so mixed up in the head?....ROFLMAO. I don't!!!!! Still I use these excuses all the time. Why? Because they usually work and everyone forgives my outrageous behavior. I'm not really that bad. Just bad enough to embarass myself once in a while, still I want to be better. I want to be the bEST person I can be....even if that means giving up some of those other little ESTs and managing myself a bit better. I am a passionate woman.....not much choice there. I don't have to be stupid though.

Hope is a dangerous occupation (repost)

HOPE is a dangerous occupation. Sometimes you have to pay a high price for the resolution to HOPE. There is no way to calculate what the cost will be. Whatever you spend, the value of HOPE will exceed the cost. HOPE is a bargain at any price. HOPE works with Faith when you can not bear the pressure on you, the two of them will hold you up and give you strength until you can stand alone again. Faith is your surprise bonus gift when you concentrate on HOPE. I live with HOPE every day. Even when Despair and Fear try to seduce me with their blame games, why me’s and what if’s. Even when the future is a shadow instead of a light. I know that whatever happens in the numerous milestones I am crossing right now, that it is going to be for the best. I've left it in God's hands. Good Hands. Better than mine, at least I'm hoping. Sometimes it feels kind of like when I had the surgery on my hands. My thumbs were completely useless before it happened. I was in constant severe pain. Everything I tried to do was an exercise in faith because I was as likely to drop something as to keep holding on. I knew what I needed but I was afraid to do it. I did it anyway. I had HOPE for a miracle, even though one wasn't promised. FEAR (another four letter word) is the truest opposite of HOPE. Fear takes away joy. HOPE brings it. Fear prevents us from planning. HOPE demands it. Fear smothers us and holds us down. HOPE sets us free. After I had the surgery my thumbs were completely useless. I was in constant severe pain. Everyting I tried to do was an exercise in faith because I was as likely to drop something as to keep holding on. Not much difference at first. I wondered why I had the stupid surgery for a couple of months. It wasn't cheap. I had to put my life on hold for 12 weeks all told (and it probably should have been longer). Then slowly the pain eased. I was able to regain maybe 80-90% of the use of my thumbs again. The pain went away. I still drop things once in a while, but for the most part I can hang on. These hands of mine still work, sometimes differently, but they can get what I need done. Yeah, I had therapy then, and I may need another type of therapy for my present *surgeries* eventually but at least I can hang on. I'm not afraid of cutting into myself and repairing the damage anymore. A healed injury is better than a gaping wound. Scars fade and we relearn what we can not repeat. Body and spirit are not that different. Hope heals both.

A good friend is a good find (repost)

There is a man I work with, for his privacy I will just use his initial G. G. is a tall middle aged, well educated black man. I love to hear him talk, he sounds like James Earl Jones.

He has never been a romantic interest, Heaven forbid. I admire him though. He is a wonderful human being. Extremely intelligent. Good heart.

We hit it off immediately. We share shifts about 3 times a week and always find time to talk. We are both intellectuals and interested in a lot more than whatever celebrity will be staying in the hotel next. We discuss politics, religion, gender issues and current events. He fulfills a need in me to communicate with other adults that I am unable to fulfill now due to my family's lack of education, my older children growing up, and just being without a significant other.

In a way, he makes it easy for me to wait until I can have the right relationship without jumping into one out of lonliness. He gives me just enough brain food to keep me from starving.

In the time, I've known him, he has helped me become resolute about the type of man I want. G. has been married forever. Same woman. He's devoted to her. He calls her his girlfriend. He doesn't cheat. They are friends, he respects her. I wish I could meet her. I feel as if I know her. Sometimes I think in another age, or even now if I hadn't had so many events at such young ages, I could be her. I would have been happy to have that kind of life. She is too.

G and Mrs. G. have 2 children who are very successful in their own rights. I think maybe G did his job as a parent too well, they fend pretty well for themselves now and I think he likes looking after me a bit at work because of it. G and Mrs. G. are an example of a couple who have the kind of relationship I want.

Sometimes he gives me a ride home from work. He's like that, kind of protective over me in a fatherly fashion. He is probably the only person I talk to at work that I don't feel the need to censure myself with. We agree on most issues and respect each other when we don't.

I need those few minutes with my friend often. He knows what is going on in my life and his advice is always sound. I wish I had my father or grandfather to talk to, but I'm beginning to think that he is the next best thing. I can trust him because there is nothing that I can do for him. All he wants is to be my friend, and you know what? He is.

He can't solve my problems. There are no answers right now. He does reassure me. He calls me wise, and I believe he means it. Once he said I should have been born a hundred years ago (when he claims to have been), I would have fit in better. Of course I would have been unemployed then, roflmao....no computers.

God sends you angels when you need them.

Ok the real answer

Ok . I will come up with a real answer. I thought I had answered it a couple of ways, but according to my friends, I am not being specific enough. I want to fall in love and I want the one I fall for to fall for me too. I won't even admit I love him until he admits it first. Why? Because I want him to be *the man*. I want him to be my *Adam*. I am not a weak-minded woman and in fact, I realize that I am asking for trouble by wanting that. Its not an easy thing for me to want, but I believe the fact that I have either never met my *Adam* or failed to recognise him, is the reason why my relationships have not worked. I believe God made me the way I am because somewhere in this world, hopefully not far from me there is a man who needs a woman like me. That's right I said needs. I need him and he needs me. Desperate need. Like food water and shelter. Need like he's missing a rib and I have the only one that fits. I have to tell you....it is an unusual rib to boot. It fits someone who is a cross between the Tin Man and Rhett Butler. For future reference, the domination I speak of is not about being battered. I would never put up with physical abuse (notwithstanding consensual sexual play and even that has its limits). I don't want a man to hurt me. I don't want to hurt him either. I also don't need a man to boss me around, I certainly expect my man to respect me and every opinion I have. I also don't want to be stalked, harrassed, emotionally or verbally abused. I want a best friend and a mentor too. In my trusting relationships, I find I am a bit more like Dorothy in the land of Oz than I care to admit. I am not sure of the rules of engagement. I share all I have. I want to play nice and I get my feelings hurt easily. I need to find a man who really wants this battered up old heart of mine. I'd love to dance a dance with the tin-man! But, in every partnership there is always the one who has the final say, who leads the way and sets the tone. I want to be dominated that way. I want my man to be the head of our relationship and I will be the heart. I want our roles defined. I want to have the traditional biblical relationship. I want to be his rib...his help-mate. His missing part, the part that supports him. Back to the subject at hand. I want to be dominated, not because I need to be, but because I am supposed to be. God intended it that way for me. Otherwise I would not have such a strong desire for it. The Good Lord, in his wisdom, also made it very difficult to dominate me. He is going to need to be quite the man. My alphabet is true...so is every other post I've written. I believe in truth so whoever chooses to be my man will out of necessity, need to appreciate and practice truth too. I need frankness and honesty like bread and water. I don't want a man who is afraid of hurting my girly little feelings. I want a man who can tell it like it is, hopefully I will like it but if I don't, then he needs to find a way to gain my acceptance or to put his foot down. I appreciate character, kindness and leadership qualities. I seriously love a rakish sense of humor and sexual naughtiness. I demand loyalty and commitment. I will not abide being cheated on nor will I allow him to abuse me or my children (or any children he may have for that matter). He has to be willing to overlook and forgive my past mistakes and be ready to start a new life with me, just as I am willing to overlook and forgive his past mistakes and begin a new life with him. Basically I feel like Scarlett O'Hara sometimes and I'm looking for my Rhett Butler. (and I am taking both Gone with the Wind and Scarlett into consideration, I lived a milder version of her life, 20th Century style). Yeah I'm kind of like her, I started out a bit of a femme fatale and now I'm sorry for the siren I was, I played with boys and broke too many hearts but now I want to get in the real game with a real man....and yeah Rhett Butler is my kind of man...I wouldn't care if he was dirt poor. Why Rhett Butler? Well I know why most women loved him....and those are some of the reasons I like him.... He was a bit incorrigible, devilishly handsome, money meant nothing to him and OMG the passion!.... I'm hot for him for a couple of other reasons though... Even though he loved Scarlett, he was never blind to her. He SAW her, flaws and virtues and not just her pretty face and not just her sexy body.... He always took what he want and demanded she give him everything she was, her practiced charms were never enough, she had to learn him too. He wouldn't play her stupid little games, he called her on it every time. He made her better than she was because he demanded of her all she could be and not just what she was. Even then, he still provided her with all she ever needed. Her mistake was in not letting him know how much she loved him. If I ever meet my Rhett....I am going to seek to please him and never hold back my emotion or my words. I like to think that if this series had ever been completed we would have found them dead sometime in their 90s wrapped up in each other's naked bodies in their bed. That's the way great love stories should always end. So I've somewhat described who I want.... There are other things, I need him to like kids and to be patient with teens. I need him not to be an asshole. I need a lot of sex....and some of what I want is more than I can print in these pages, even though I think I am pretty open. Its not that I'm ashamed of the things I want and need.... I just don't want to have to explain to him later why I shared that information with so many people when some of them are male. See I want him to be a bit jealous and possessive of me too. I read all these personal ads declaring that this person or that person *doesn't want any DRAMA*.... Me I want it....I want all his drama and all his passion.... I want to stir him up to boiling!

The ABC's of Mr. Not Quite Right in the Head

Someone asked me today what I wanted in a man. Truth is I want it all. I'm a greedy little bitch sometimes. I like to say I want to find a caveman and dress him up in a suit. I want a really savage caveman too boot....and a fancy suit. Basically I want him to be the *MAN*. I know....I know....that is tres sexist of me. But lets just do my alphabet.... 
A is for Alpha Male. (I want a man, not a boy, and I want THE man, not a man) 
B is for Boyish. (one should never lose the part of themself that plays) 
C is for Crazy. (about me and a little nuttiness makes everyone more fun) 
D is for Dominant. (I'm old fashioned, and also its a sexual quirk)
E is for Energetic (He's going to need it!). (I may be older but I'm not dead yet) 
F is for Friend. (Can't love someone if you don't like someone first) 
G is for Goofy. (laughter is a wonderful thing) 
H is for Human. (you would be surprised how many people lose their humanity by my age) 
I is for Incorrigible. (I enjoy people who live life on their own terms) 
J is for Jovial. (I like likable people best) 
K is for Kind. (There is never a good excuse to be unkind) 
L is for Large. (I don't see how I could feel dominated by a smaller man...he just has to be taller than me...I don't want to look down on him) 
M is for Masculine. (I like men with all the usual good and bad qualities, if I wanted someone who with my own traits I would be a lesbian) 
N is for Naughty. (Yes!!! Shock me! Make me blush! Tease me about how you will please me! Make me admit I like it...) 
O is for Optimistic. (its better to be happy than not, its better to have hope than suffer despair) 
P is for Possessive. (I want to be HIS, I am not talking stalking or jealous rages, but if he doesn't mind when some other guy tries to move in on his territory he is not going to be man enough for me) 
Q is for Questioning. (I love curious people....male and female.) 
R is for Rowdy. (Movers and shakers well...they move and shake me! ) 
S is for Sexy. (I'm not talking looks...I'm talking attitude. I'm not going to complain that's alllll you think about....unless you aren't doing enough acting on those thoughts... ) 
T is for Teasing. (Know me well and let me know it....and let me know you too. ) 
U is for Unusual. (Average is for Average, I want someone who thinks outside of the box and lives a real life, not the one everyone thinks he should.) 
V is for Virile. (Sex is part of love. I want it all, and lots of it.) 
W is for Wild. (I want your raw emotion, I don't want you to be civilized with me, I want to have access to all your passions. ) 
X is for X-rated. (I may not share, but I'm willing to give YOU everything I've got. ) 
Y is for Yummy. (I want to taste your kisses and your skin.) 
Z is for Zainy. (Lets tickle, lets crash a party and dance the night away....Lets go for a ride and make out in a corn field...Build me a snow couple! I want to play!)

Where Oh Where is My Little Boy?

I have a sleep headache. Its that kind you get when you haven't been sleeping and catch up all at once. Other than that I'm feeling pretty good.

I took Walter skating yesterday...I wish I would have remembered the camera! I didn't watch all of it (y'all know it scares me to watch), but he is getting very impressive these days. Talk abounds about him getting sponsored soon.

He's already begun losing his Winter-weight. As you know he is also attracting a lot of female attention.

The PYT's don't bother me so much....its the older girls I want to slap! Some of these women are in thier 20's and 30's that have begun oggling my baby! I'm thinking *Over YOUR dead body Bitch!*.

After what I seen yesterday, I'm glad he's got himself a girlfriend. That puts him off limits and he is much too old fashioned and too much of a gentleman to cheat on his girlfriend. Since she is as innocent and sweet as he is, it is much better this way. I saw the light of corruption in the eyes of a couple of those bimbettes. I am going to bake Danielle some cookies. Maybe I will take her and Walter to the library or to go swimming at the hotel.

I know he looks older, he's kind of tall, naturally muscular and with that mustache and the beginnings of a beard, but sheesh! I have to get my brother over here to teach this kid how to shave.

I wonder if he would wear a shirt that said *Hey I'm still a kid!*

I'll get a recent picture of him up here soon and y'all can tell me how to make this kid look younger.

Here's one from a year ago:

It's the jaw line isn't it?

Where is that little boy I keep looking for?

He looks like this:



If you see him, Tell him his mama is looking for him!

He was supposed to stay 4 Years Old Forever

The 'hood has been quiet since that incident. Walter told me today that I can't make him stay in the house. He will go out when I'm gone.

He feels like a prisoner and he can defend himself he says.

GEEEEEEEZ......

He is, and no he can't, not against guns and knives. But he's right. Nothing I can do. He'll be careful and be inside before dark.

Why his sudden defiance? Well its really not so sudden, but usually when I put my foot down, he doesn't outright defy me, he doesn't act all manly, just resigned and petulant. He respects my right to make the decisions.

He is questioning my reasoning and authority.

My kid..... Even annoyed at him I know where it comes from. I know he means it. He is thinking clearly. He refuses to give in to fear.

He's got a girlfriend. He told me yesterday. He asked permission to give her our phone number.

GEEEEEEEEEEEZZZZZ.......

I'm not ready for this.

He's my baby. Now he's acting like a guy of all things!

He's almost 15 years old. A little chunky but mostly muscle. He's handsome as the devil in blue jeans, just like my Dad and Grandfather were. I guess I should have known it had to happen pretty soon.

I'm grateful that he's moral and good. He's a gentleman. He is planning to go over and meet little Miss Danielle's parents to make sure its ok for him to hang out with their daughter...OMG, he is sooooooooo old fashioned. He's planning on asking permission to court her in essence.

I know I'm a lucky Mom....but I don't feel so lucky right now. My baby is growing up so fast and his blasted siblings still haven't provided me with a child to hold and cuddle.

He needs to shave. I don't even know how to teach him.

I know that I did and am doing exactly what I was supposed to do with that nearly blue baby I gave birth to all those years ago. I did well, I took a helpless baby boy and turned him into a man who doesn't need me to hold him anymore.

What else could I do?

We worked out the terms, negotiated and compromised. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do....Mom's just gotta deal with it.

I love the man he is becoming but I still want my baby back.

Not as good at this as I thought

I find it is a lot easier to fall in love than it is to fall out of it.

It is a lot easier to believe in fairytales than to face truth.

It is a lot easier to deal with dreams than to overcome the effects of a nightmare.

My steel spine feels as soft as jello.

My heart isn't hard, it is broken.

Words are all I can relate to, all I understand.

I'm manipulated, controlled and consoled by 26 letters in the alphabet.

There ought to be more.

I read this today.

Have you even been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up this whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life... You give them a piece of you. They don't ask for it. They do something dumb one day like kiss you, or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore.

Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple phrase like "maybe we should just be friends" or "how very perceptive" turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.

The Kindly Ones by Neil Gaiman

I also read a letter from him. I stayed strong. It wasn't easy. It should be getting easier.

There was the usual yadda yadda about my wonderfulness and how I deserve better and how he is so sorry he lost me.

Yeah, it was a choice and I can't be that wonderful, because I wasn't the choice he made.

Do you suppose I am his ego feed?

Maybe he is just trying to make his guilt go away by trying to make me feel better.

It doesn't work.

I only feel worse because I am too smart to believe his words over his actions.

It makes me feel worse because I want my heart to be right just once, instead of my head.

Maybe he just wants to make me think he didn't mislead me, or that if he did it was unintentional.

I still have all his letters though and if I understand anything in life it is the power of those 26 letters in the alphabet.

I hurt all over. I don't want to eat but I am going to binge anyway.

Today is for cookies and cake and not for makeup or hair brushing.

More than anything I wish the only man who ever really loved me could hold me once more.

I would crawl up on his lap and bury my face in his chest and cry until I had no tears left.

Somehow he'd make everything all right again.

I miss my Grandpa.

Goin. fer a Walk

"Today is your day. You're off to Great
Places! You're off and away!"~~Dr. Seuss

I refused all offers today and walked home. It was a beautiful day. I don't know if many of you realize this, but until the Great Depression hit, South Bend was a happening kind of town.

Seriously we were!!!

Some of the most well known politicians and socialites kept homes here. Our streets are named for them! We were pretty affluent back then and it shows in some of the architecture that still stands tightly squeezed between the more modern atrocities (I'm not much for steel and glass buildings...I like brick and wood)here.

If you'd like to join me in my walk home just follow the pictures, I'm not sure I have them in the right order (renamed them all) but close enough.



Leaving work.....I'm so glad I get to work on the main floor of this building...I get dizzy just looking up!



The Court House (I believe this is the second Court House, we have several).



Our own little Lady Liberty.... I know it isn't much, but size isn't supposed to matter.

I just love this copper light. One of these days I expect some derelict to rip it off though....There's been a lot of metal looting from our buildings recently.

I love this doorway, but it looks too forbidding to be on a church! I'm not ready for Judgment yet!

This is the reddest church I've ever seen. Love the round window though.

This is the church in its entirety, I love all the brick and stone work on it.

The steeple on this more modern church looks like its actually trying to reach Heaven.

Now we just begin looking at some of the incredible houses on my way home. Amazingly enough these houses used to be single family homes (no doubt those families had 10 or 15 kids but still!) Now most of them are either apartments or office complexes....

Seriously, what a shame.....

The two pictures below are of my dream house....I've been gazing at this house since I was a little girl.... I have dreams where I actually live in it... It represents so much to me, I don't know why I am so drawn to it, but I have been longer than I can actually remember.... If I ever win the lottery....That baby is MINE!

It was so sunny out that my glasses went almost black and so windy that my face is all red...but I still feel invigorated!

It was a lovely walk and for the first time in month, I feel pretty good about the world!

I do believe it is FINALLY Spring!

So be sure when you step.Step with care and great tact and remember that "Life's a Great Balancing Act." Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left~~~Dr. Seuss