I confess to slacking a bit in keeping you strangers abreast of my goings-on, but I am happy to report that it is due to finding myself legitimately consumed with my new-found employment, as opposed to my former state of laziness.
This week I was able to put my wondering-mind skills to productive use, by concocting a mildly genius plan to score a much needed grant to fund a future project, and therefore increase the odds that a few of us, including myself, can look forward to an income after September ends. When you've spent the majority of your working life employed by those who do not appreciate your inability to see obstacles, it is beyond refreshing to find your solution-seeking brain is appreciated. I really think I have found not only a job that pays the bills, but a job that allows me to truly excel, and therefore bring increased success to the honorable organization that so graciously hired me.
Secretly, however, I have engaged in intermittent email silliness with my ex across the hall. He works for a separate, contracted establishment as well, so I don't think the thought police of the business that owns the building has us under surveillance just yet. Since running into each other over a month ago, we've gone to lunch, and have a scheduled dinner next week. He's a great guy, whom I get along with very well. We have enjoyed trying to piece together whatever madness transpired between us some 15+ years ago. I remember going to his sister's wedding and having his ex-girlfriend go bananas when he asked me to dance to "their song." I can't recall which one it was, but it was a Journey song. He remembers my ex flinging my car door open while he and I were making out in a parking lot after drinking too much beer at a rock-n-roll bar. Maybe that explains why my poor soul ex wound up marrying a half-crazy bitch.
I began today with my latest Saturday routine: fixing myself breakfast in bed, and watching "Mistresses." I was rather upset to see my pretend TV boyfriend sleep with his should be girlfriend's friend. Now what? Is that going to spoil my hopes that they fall deeply in love and have sex a lot so I can see him without his shirt on? I won't be a happy girl if that is the future story line.
After my exhausting morning of laying in bed eating breakfast, I took a nap. I might have felt some sort of shame for being so lazy on an almost-warm and sunny Saturday afternoon, but everyone I spoke with on the phone today had either already napped, or planned to nap within the hour. Sometimes we must seek comfort in our "sins" by rationalizing them with an "everybody else is doing it" thought process.
Once I got up and combed my hair, I prepared deviled eggs, and au gratin sweet potatoes for tomorrows Easter dinner at Grandma's house. She of course insisted I didn't have to bring anything, like she has every holiday for the last 20 years. Apparently I am not the only one in denial of the fact that I am a grown-up, and therefore capable of contributing to family dinners. It's nice to feel young, always... but not twelve! I love cooking, almost as much as I love eating, so I happily prepare at least two dishes for each and every gathering. In fact, I might seize this opportunity to unload some black olives that I will never eat and bump my offerings up to three.
Lately I have reverted back to my battle of deciding what level of comfort I am actually comfortable with regarding sex. It's that battle between maybe, maybe, wanting to find someone to actually co-habitate with and maybe, MAYBE, have a kid with... and... just enjoying the fact that I am a self-supporting, educated-decision capable, adult woman with her own "needs" that feels she deserves a little physical attention (read hot sex) once in awhile... if not once a week; and ideally once a day! And since I have chosen to take the "later in life" approach to entertain the idea of MAYBE having a kid someday, I have run into yet another challenge. Guys my age like to get vasectomies. Great! Now what's a girl to do? Seems my ex across the hall thought it necessary to randomly divulge the fact that he is "snipped." Now, I have no immediate intentions of claiming to be serious with him... but, what am I supposed to do with THAT information? Complicated. Life seems to get more enjoyable, yet spontaneously more complicated the older I get.
This week I was able to put my wondering-mind skills to productive use, by concocting a mildly genius plan to score a much needed grant to fund a future project, and therefore increase the odds that a few of us, including myself, can look forward to an income after September ends. When you've spent the majority of your working life employed by those who do not appreciate your inability to see obstacles, it is beyond refreshing to find your solution-seeking brain is appreciated. I really think I have found not only a job that pays the bills, but a job that allows me to truly excel, and therefore bring increased success to the honorable organization that so graciously hired me.
Secretly, however, I have engaged in intermittent email silliness with my ex across the hall. He works for a separate, contracted establishment as well, so I don't think the thought police of the business that owns the building has us under surveillance just yet. Since running into each other over a month ago, we've gone to lunch, and have a scheduled dinner next week. He's a great guy, whom I get along with very well. We have enjoyed trying to piece together whatever madness transpired between us some 15+ years ago. I remember going to his sister's wedding and having his ex-girlfriend go bananas when he asked me to dance to "their song." I can't recall which one it was, but it was a Journey song. He remembers my ex flinging my car door open while he and I were making out in a parking lot after drinking too much beer at a rock-n-roll bar. Maybe that explains why my poor soul ex wound up marrying a half-crazy bitch.
I began today with my latest Saturday routine: fixing myself breakfast in bed, and watching "Mistresses." I was rather upset to see my pretend TV boyfriend sleep with his should be girlfriend's friend. Now what? Is that going to spoil my hopes that they fall deeply in love and have sex a lot so I can see him without his shirt on? I won't be a happy girl if that is the future story line.
After my exhausting morning of laying in bed eating breakfast, I took a nap. I might have felt some sort of shame for being so lazy on an almost-warm and sunny Saturday afternoon, but everyone I spoke with on the phone today had either already napped, or planned to nap within the hour. Sometimes we must seek comfort in our "sins" by rationalizing them with an "everybody else is doing it" thought process.
Once I got up and combed my hair, I prepared deviled eggs, and au gratin sweet potatoes for tomorrows Easter dinner at Grandma's house. She of course insisted I didn't have to bring anything, like she has every holiday for the last 20 years. Apparently I am not the only one in denial of the fact that I am a grown-up, and therefore capable of contributing to family dinners. It's nice to feel young, always... but not twelve! I love cooking, almost as much as I love eating, so I happily prepare at least two dishes for each and every gathering. In fact, I might seize this opportunity to unload some black olives that I will never eat and bump my offerings up to three.
Lately I have reverted back to my battle of deciding what level of comfort I am actually comfortable with regarding sex. It's that battle between maybe, maybe, wanting to find someone to actually co-habitate with and maybe, MAYBE, have a kid with... and... just enjoying the fact that I am a self-supporting, educated-decision capable, adult woman with her own "needs" that feels she deserves a little physical attention (read hot sex) once in awhile... if not once a week; and ideally once a day! And since I have chosen to take the "later in life" approach to entertain the idea of MAYBE having a kid someday, I have run into yet another challenge. Guys my age like to get vasectomies. Great! Now what's a girl to do? Seems my ex across the hall thought it necessary to randomly divulge the fact that he is "snipped." Now, I have no immediate intentions of claiming to be serious with him... but, what am I supposed to do with THAT information? Complicated. Life seems to get more enjoyable, yet spontaneously more complicated the older I get.
Although I did put all of my deviled eggs in one "basket," I have yet to figure out what to do with my theoretically reproductive ones.
And while we are talking about eggs, (yes this is a very twisted stretch of connection) have a Happy Easter my adorable readers!
1 comment:
Well it’s about time you write!
Congratulations on the mildly genius concoctive idea to fund your future project.
As far as the ex is concerned, well its sounds like a movie on lifetime…
Saturday breakfast in bed! What are you kidding? I would love to settle for that. But forget the TV boyfriend it won’t lead to anything as I discovered with my TV girlfriend.
The nap is does not have to be rationalized or have shame with the “everybody is doing it thought process”.
The first thing that we learn is the importance of recognizing and admitting our own guilt.
We are guilty. We are weak and foolish. Sometimes we are malicious and wicked. We are faint of heart and lazy. We steal and cheat and lie and squirm away from our responsibilities. We get angry. Then we rationalize our misdeeds into seeming virtue and further compound our guilt. We are imperfect creatures who make a lot of mistakes. You get the message?
By the way I’ve been waiting patiently for my snowflakes so I won’t ask for the deviled eggs let alone the au gratin sweet potatoes. :)
Regarding the sex issue take your time with the “level of comfort”. It will happen naturally whether you now it or not. Besides, COMFORT, all it is a condition in which somebody feels physically relaxed.
No! Most men aren’t snipped… I just don’t like cold tables as I lay on my butt.
Spontaneously is very good and yes life does get more enjoyable as we read on and we have no room for complication. Right?
I wait for the next posting.
Happy Easter,
Oscar.
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