‘Twas the night before England …
And all through the house, the A/C was stirring …
I’m not even going to try – because all I can think of right now to rhyme IS actually mouse, and I don’t think we have one.
We did it. Nic boards the plane tomorrow for his adventure.
So, tonight, we’re sitting in our pajamas, all washed up for bedtime – neither of us wanting to go to sleep.
Doing what we do best – being complete dorks together.
Watching funny YouTube videos and me … snapping silly pictures of us.
This next month or so … prepare for my descent into madness as I document life in the house sans Nic.
I’ll share his photos, his news and my increased bonding with the dog.
Musings from the laundromat – Lightning Crashes edition
I sat outside under the night sky last night – feeling the thunder vibrate through me – smelling the rain that did not fall. Lightning flashed in random ‘peek-a-boo’ fashion, making clouds temporarily visible.
And I was contemplating.
Nic goes to England in just 3 days. For a month at least – perhaps indefinitely, if it is to be his path.
I’ve had so much on my mind lately, time slipped by on cat feet. Quickly and quietly.
Just what am I going to do alone with my thoughts? Probably have more of them.
As I stepped inside, ironically, ‘Lightning Crashes’ was being performed acoustically on the tv. Live was providing my thoughts some background music.
As if my thoughts need them.
My internal tangents have theme songs and a cast and crew … lighting and screen writers – production staff and catering. It’s quite heady really. Independent tangents of course, we have a budget you know.
But, a tangent was born. The song reminded me of someone I dated. He was in a band (shocking, I know.) He played the bass and when his band performed that particular song, he would come down from the stage and slow dance with me until he had to join in.
The drums and bass aren’t involved until the end of the 2nd verse of the song – and that is when my dance ended. Then up on stage he would go and I would find my seat.
I seem to have so many stories like that – but no book. So many ‘almosts’ but no ‘ever after’. I’m to blame for most of them, I know. I pushed people and opportunities away. So stubborn. And never willing to settle.
I’ve always had big dreams of what life and love is supposed to be. I still do.
When you’ve seen what I’ve seen and experienced what I’ve experienced, life gets bigger and so does your soul and heart and dreams.
And I still will not settle. I will wait. I will wait for the man with the broken heart and haunted past – who is meant for me.
The first I knew of true love – unconditional, pure love was when I gave birth. They say that will be the case to first time mothers (and fathers.) “The minute you lay eyes on that baby, THEN you’ll know what love is.” ‘They’ were right.
Although, if I’m being honest, when Nicholas Avery Charles was laid in my arms, and when I looked down and said my first word to him “Hi.” I didn’t feel that intense burst of love right away.
I felt like a terrible mother then – wasn’t there supposed to be internal fireworks going on? A sudden and profound new-found feeling of the maternal variety?
I was madly in love with my son when I carried him. I loved every hiccup, every kick. I spoke to him – I caressed my belly and imagined what my baby would look like, what he or she would sound like. I chose not to know the sex of my baby – I found out (obviously) when the doctor announced “It’s a son.”
I missed being pregnant for a little while after he was born. I truly missed it. Perhaps it felt safer carrying him inside of me – where he was alive and mine and protected from the world. I don’t know.
Oh, the postpartum love came. It came like a love tsunami – my heart was filled to overflowing.
I barely let him sleep in his crib at home. I would ‘accidentally’ bump into it so that he would wake up. “OH! Are you awake? Let me hold you.” And for hours I would breathe in the scent of him as he fell back asleep on my chest.
I loved my son with a heart I didn’t know I had.
I would lay down and die for my son if need be.
I would do anything to ensure he has a chance for a life filled with memories, love, hope, dreams and wonder.
And … I would send him away from me.
And I am.
And I hope that he finds those things on his journey. I’m giving him all I have to give, an opportunity. A ticket to see more than his small home town. A chance.
Perhaps years from now, he’ll sit outside as a storm brews and recall this upcoming adventure – lose himself in thought with a smile on his face. Then go back inside of his home and share a story with his family.
‘Comfort Eating’ and a new fan
Comfort eating … I wanted to say I’ve been doing it since Monday – then I remembered the Calamari post. <– click here. Oops.
I am currently completely, totally nauseated.
FIRST TANGENT: It drives me bonkers when people say “I feel nauseous.” It may have been so misused that Websters just gave up and decided to make its original meaning null and void, but back in the day – Nauseous meant you made OTHERS sick – to feel nauseated meant YOU felt sick. Okay. We clear now?
I’ve been indulging in chocolate covered almonds at work – oh, and trail mix. And not in the ‘healthy’ trail mix way.
It’s ridiculous. It all started with a weekend of pampering courtesy of my mom (oh gawd, this has been going on a WEEK!)
We enjoyed a pedicure together and then Sushi.
We eat a LOT of sushi. This time, we were smart though. “Remember, we never eat it all – and it’s too hot to leave in the car to do anything else.” I said.
So we just ate a lot more there. LOL!
I ended up carting the take away box containing a much smaller amount of ‘left overs’ than I thought there would be into Wal-Mart and Bed Bath and Beyond.
SECOND TANGENT: Wandered over to the fan section to sign some 8 x 10 glossys and pose for a few pics to see if there was one in my budget for my son’s room. Found an awesome one! Then I looked at the price tag and walked away. More about ‘the fan’ later.
So weekend is over. I’ll be honest with you. Brutally truthful. I lost weight on purpose, took me a while – but I was very pleased with the results. I am about 5’9, 5’10 and weigh between 125-130 pounds depending on the day. I get called ‘skinny’ a lot. Which, is a little mean – I wouldn’t announce to someone they were ‘fat’. Besides, I’m not grossly underweight – I’m just not overweight. I’m ‘thin’. I eat – believe me. And NO I don’t ‘return’ it. Ew.
I have my days I’ll eat whatever I want, then I’m sensible the rest of the week … or at least 5 days of the week anyway.
Not this week.
Nope.
Tuesday is meeting day in the office next door – and I have an all access pass to their kitchen. It’s not what you know people, it’s who you know. LOL!
This was their spread Tuesday:
The rest of the week is sort of a blur. I was in a bit of a food coma. I brought lunch everyday, and then somehow – was provided a meal as well. One day I had just finished the Italian sausage pasta I made over the weekend – when my boss walked in with this:
It’s poor manners to say ‘no thank you’ to your boss, especially when there are French fries involved. Then it’s very bad manners. And OH MY GAWD … it’s In N Out burger – who turns down In N Out??
That same day, (actually, WHILE I was eating my fries – because you can’t let them get cold) I was helping a man at my desk. Wasn’t exactly related to my job, but he was a friend of the loan officer. I had helped him and chatted to him a while back , and the day before and now I was faxing Last Wills and Testaments for him and what-not.
We spoke a lot. He asked me where I lived – I got a little nervous. I don’t like personal questions from strangers … candy I’ll take, and yes, I’ll help them find their puppy, but I’m uncomfortable answering personal questions.
Turns out he was only asking because he wanted to compare electric bills. We agreed they did seem to be a lot higher than last year. This man just had major surgery on his heart and so I went the extra mile. Told him about ‘the fan’. Remember? The one I was looking at in Bed Bath and Beyond whilst holding a to-go container of sushi.
I told him, it’s an ‘air circulator’ and it’s suppose to cut your electric bill down. It disperses the cool air into every corner of your room. I told him what I had found out about it while I researched whether or not I should spend the money on it. Thought it might help him.
This is ‘The fan’.
He left. I finished my box ‘o food. (Followed by a sudden craving for gummy sharks – which was followed by a walk over to the gas station and purchase of said gummy sharks – then I proceeded to consume all but FOUR of the damn gummy sharks.)
I’m feeling NAUSEATED and the door opens.
It is the man I was helping earlier.
Holding ‘the fan’.
Now – if you have read many of my posts, (there are over 200, who knows) you’ll know that I have the HARDEST time accepting help/money/gifts from other people.
So I’m preparing my ‘Oh, thank you you’re so sweet – but I couldn’t possibly‘ speech. When he disarmed me with his own words. In a nutshell, he said that he didn’t have many people to speak to. That I had been very kind to him – and that he could tell what sort of character I had. He bought himself one and he wanted me to have one.
What do you SAY to that??
“You’re welcome – and um, no. Take it back!” I’m trying to learn to be gracious and LET people feel the same way I do when I give someone a gift (or when I could give a gift anyway.)
So I have a new fan. And I’ve gained 4 pounds. Not just from food – but from that simple act of accepting something from someone that’s weighing on me.
Think I need one of these …
Musings from the Laundromat: “I don’t know” edition
There is just so much going on right now. Personally, Locally, Nationally, Globally.
Wasn’t sure how I was going to convey all that I felt about it until I was in the shower. I remembered that it’s okay not to know. And that pretty much tied everything together. “I don’t know.”
I’ve shared my opinion here in many posts – that it’s so easy to jump to conclusions (one of the few exercises I participate in unfortunately – but knowing this and not liking it is the first step to changing it.)
Unless it’s happened to you – or you were there – you can not believe everything you read, hear or even see.
Even then I suppose it’s subject to perception.
I jumped on the Justice for Trayvon bandwagon with no first hand information – I got sucked into the media circus. I do believe, with absolute certainty, that we, as humans, can be persuaded to one side of an argument or another if only one side is pushed down our throats around the clock.
I have to step back today and remind myself:
I was not there.
I do not know.
Still, as a mother and a human, my gut is uneasy with the ruling. George Zimmerman IS guilty of killing Trayvon Martin. Did the prosecution have enough evidence to prove that he killed him unjustifiably? Beyond a reasonable doubt?
I don’t know.
Obviously we have a deceased 17-year-old who died at the hands of another – that’s evidence enough for me to warrant some sort of justice!
The uneasiness I feel stems from the fact that there appears to be no justice. But again, I don’t know that.
I don’t know if George Zimmerman has night terrors, is wracked with guilt – if his wife lies beside him at night thinking he’s a monster now. If he’ll ever be able to resume any semblance of a ‘normal’ life. He was judged in the court of public opinion – and that court does not adjourn.
My heart breaks for the Martin family. I do know this. There is no coming back for Trayvon. Not from this.
Onto Cory Monteith. One of my guilty pleasures is the television show ‘Glee.’ I was saddened to hear that one of its stars passed away.
Only 31 years old. And why does it seem like more of a loss when someone is young and talented?
Shouldn’t every life should be both celebrated and mourned when it comes to an end?
Cause of death has not been determined yet, but, since they’ve stated foul play does not seem to be a factor, and since Cory recently exited a rehabilitation facility for substance abuse – the threads about his death have concluded (without actually knowing yet) that he died of an overdose.
He was found alone in a hotel in Canada by staff after he failed to checkout by checkout time.
For all the fame and wealth and celebrity that he had – he is gone and not coming back.
It doesn’t make a difference to me what cause of death was. It’s a terrible shame and my heart goes out to his family, friends and to his fans.
If it was an overdose, I hope intelligent conversations can shed light on the issue of addiction. That some good can come from that conversation.
On a personal note, I spoke with a dear friend yesterday that lost someone she loved. The cause of death is also unknown – but what is known points to suicide.
She is left not knowing. Wondering. Living with questions and regrets. And even if the autopsy report concludes ‘overdose’ – she will still not know.
Did he mean to end his life? Was it an accidental overdose? Was it a cry for help that went too far? Because – he too, is not coming back. What is left are the people who knew and loved him trying to pick up the pieces and digest what they don’t know in order to move forward with their lives.
“I don’t know.” Not knowing something puts us in fear.
Then again, I would rather hear “I don’t know” from someone rather than be given false information.
And when I’m asked a question I don’t have an answer for – I admit it. Then if it’s important enough to me, I’ll educate myself on the topic or research an answer.
In my personal life – I’ve taken the very blunt, play-no-games approach. I know how it feels to be in the dark – to not know where I stand. I choose today to not make someone else feel that way. It’s not kind and it’s not fair.
But then life is often not what I would consider ‘fair’. I’ll speak for myself when I say that I tend to want what I consider a just, and reasonable beginning, middle and end. But life is not like that.
I don’t know, but I would imagine the Martin and Monteith families probably agree today.
Calamari, packing badly and being shifty at the imaginary bakery
I’m comfort eating. Calamari to be exact – and fries and some delicious chili sauce thing that reminds me of a savory marmalade.
Calamari took my mind on a little walk and they shared a memory about the first time Amanda had calamari – it was in Italy.
Gawd.
I used to actually DO things you know? I have done and experienced AMAZING things! Seriously! From almost being sold in Afghanistan to staying up for days and days surrounded by crazy ravers.
I still DO things. I have a busy life. I just make it look easier than it is because I make time for things and people who are important to me.
In my ‘spare time’, I play this stupid game that I can never logistically win – and even if I did – it’s a virtual flipping game – not like I’m going to improve my life or bank account by playing it.
Anyway, I got the following compliment last night. (Which did NOT creep me out like the ‘are you single’ question from some guy playing in the same room as me last week. Ew.)
I don’t think I look anything like Jennifer Anniston – but hey, she was married to Brad Pitt, so I’ll take it. (Although, never have been attracted to Brad Pitt – he’s too ‘pretty’ for my tastes, so why in the world did I just say that? Food stupor.) I usually get Gwyneth Paltrow .. (who also dated Brad Pitt … what the heck?? Maybe I just look like someone who would get dumped by Brad Pitt? Hmmm ….) What do you think?
Tangent. Did you enjoy that?
So, I’m comfort eating and remembering a comment my dad made YEARS ago. I was feeling sorry for some homeless people in an awful part of town. He made the point, “Um, they are homeless … they can be ‘homeless’ ANYWHERE.” That made an odd sort of sense to me. Why not be homeless somewhere with comfortable weather and lots of people spending far too much on food and tossing it after just one bite? If I was homeless, my thumb would be out for a ride to anywhere but here, that’s for sure.
Feel like a kid lately who just wants to ‘go’. I want to run away. LOL! Pack like, 10 pairs of mismatching socks, no pants, toys, only 1 pair of underwear and forget to pack tops and my toothbrush. You know, like we did as kids when we were in a hurry to escape. You’d open your suitcase, or whatever container you grabbed at time of packing, and realize ‘wow, I can really do nothing with any of this.’
But seriously. I have this sudden urge to just ‘bail’. Get out of dodge. Run away.
I could start anew in a tiny idyllic village. Maybe even under an assumed name? I’d rarely be seen out … slip in and out of the bakery and butchers – with dark glasses. Looking very dangerous and shifty in a trench coat. Okay, maybe not so dangerous – probably more like an idiot in a trench coat, dark glasses and eclairs in hand from the bakery I just slipped out of.
But, probably I should just address whatever is making me want to run away in the first place. Because, no matter where I run to – I’ll still be there. LOL
Debauchery Soup 