Oh GR8 Pre-Date

Tomorrow is my big adventure by train for a first date in an eastern town... and I had been looking forward to it all week... until today. Even though I earlier weighed in a loss of four pounds for the week, I now bear the bloated burden of womanhood with a bonus case of moodiness.

Yesterday, I was the only person in the office until 10:00 a.m. Secretly, I was a little peeved because my co-workers didn't feel the need to report their delays and months ago I was reminded how important that was to do when I accidentally left a message on the wrong phone extension informing the staff of my own delay. You know, those rules that apply to you, but no one else that get on your last nerve. Anyway, after working all day, I went straight to Chester's so his wife, son and daughter in law could go to dinner, and immediately after that, I went to a city meeting to give a presentation for work. It was one long fucking day.

Of course, last night I slept poorly and when the alarm went off I was not thrilled. But, it was Friday, which meant I could get away with wearing jeans and a sweater, so I skipped all of the usual fuss and threw my hair into a ponytail. Morning routine time total: 20 minutes.

Continuing my crabbiness was morning traffic that included being stuck behind the I-don't-need-to-clean-snow-off-my-windows guy that weaves in and out of lanes blindly. After arriving at the office, I checked my email to see if a week long dispute over items I had ordered to have before my date weekend had been resolved, or even replied to. It hadn't.

Okay, now I am officially pissed off.

I spent over an hour, being transferred to and speaking with four different people, only to be put on the hold that really means you've been hung up on. I called back asking to speak with the person I was supposed to have been transferred to and again, the "please hold" oops-we-hung-up-on you thing.

Fucking pissed off.

Trying to defuse my anger, I attempted the old breathe deep thing while playing a song that usually makes me happy. I managed not to explode, however, the song did fail to bring me any short-term joy. Shortly thereafter, my co-worker attempted to resolve a similar three week long work-related situation. During her voicemail, she threatened to report them to the Better Business Bureau.

"You go girl!" I said excitedly. "Don't put up with that crap. What is it with businesses these days... in an economy like this?!"

"I know! It's bullshit!" she replied.

Simultaneously, we searched our computers for the Better Business Bureau site, gleefully hunting for complaint records. Finding comfort in our mutual misery, my spirits lifted. But I had so much work to do...

I managed to escape the office an hour early... which was an hour past my intended departure time. I was on the hunt for a date outfit (read jeans that actually fit), travel toothpaste, a good book to read on the train, and an overnight bag. On my way into a store, a man with his family smiled and nodded. As I went to say hello, I accidentally swallowed my gum!!

Finally! I'm smiling! Laughing! Who swallows gum at 38 years old?! I walked through the aisles giggling to myself as I noticed the minty taste at the back of my throat and thought about the bizarre (yet untrue) consequences parents tell you result from swallowing gum when you're a little kid.

For the most part, I found what I was looking for, and since the gum incident, I have been in a more pleasant mood. I did forget to stop at the library to get my book, but I'm going to my mom's to pluck one off her bookcase. Surely it will have that oddly pleasant "old book smell" and it's yellowed pages will add a touch of charm suitable to an afternoon train ride. I've started packing my bag and soon will paint my nails... beginning the tedious grooming rituals us women go through for our first dates.

I hope to sleep well, have a pleasant morning, and look smashing when I depart for the depot...

(to be continued...)

Gains, Trains, and Automobiles...

As I was losing excitement about dating, it seems I was gaining a little weight. Hardly the plan I agreed to with my co-workers, yes, I have gained 1 1/2 pounds since Superbowl Sunday. More accurately, I gained 1 1/2 pounds ON Superbowl Sunday. This small setback is not a complete disaster, but it is a source of frustration, considering I worked out 6 days out of 7 that week. And wouldn't it be nice to be able to comfortably slip into my "cute" jeans, instead of wrestling them over my now-rounder thighs, only to find the sight of these once cute jeans vacuum packed onto my ass slightly disturbing?

I'll admit that I have been tempted to temporarily postpone dating until I fit into those damn jeans again... but I'm just not that out of shape and I can't continue to allow myself to find reasons not to pursue romance in my life. It's truly an issue of finding something that fits properly and is season appropriate (we're buried in snow here) that makes you feel capable of attracting the opposite sex. If I were going to a business meeting... I'd have no qualms about it. 98% of my winter wardrobe is compiled of "work" clothes. The other 2%? Yeah, that's the shit that doesn't fit.

Disregarding our city-shutdown snowstorm, my ill-fitting clothes, and those ever-present first online date anxieties, I decided to take a risk for once. I just bought round-tip train tickets for this coming weekend so I can meet this fellow I've been corresponding with for a few weeks.

What?! Have I lost my bloody mind?

I've never ridden a train. I've never met this man. I've never ridden a train to meet a man I've never met! But, I've always wanted to ride a train, and I've always wanted to meet a nice man... so now I've gone and done it! What the hell I say. I think. By taking the train, I'll be trying something new, and I won't have to worry about bad roads, car accidents, or getting lost. I've ridden the subways in New York and the Metro in Paris... but never an "old school" rail car. The fellow is rather interesting to me: a nice mix of intelligence, humor, and creative drive. Our conversations have been mostly intellectual and have never included discussions of boobs, nor has he audibly urinated on the phone. Our date could be a little strange because it falls on Valentine's Day weekend and we are likely to be surrounded by googly-eyed lovebirds feeding each other cake with red frosting, but I think I'll take that over spending another "romantic" holiday alone, where it's safe, and boring.

Out With The Old... In With The Familiar

I'm forcing myself to stay up late in hopes of catching this Perseid meteor shower lighting up the sky. How I would love to have that camera I dream of. One that would be capable of capturing such a potentially glorious show. But alas, I am simply left with wishful thinking amongst an overdrawn checking account and overcast skies.

I was on "vacation" from the 3rd to the 11th. Though most would have booked a trip to some exotic paradise, I "chose" to spend my time remodelling another rental for my now regular client. Considering I have lofty dreams, an as-yet unsecured job, and the leftover financial burn from nearly a year of unemployment; working while on a paid vacation seemed the responsible thing to do. The work becomes tedious, yes, but bringing new life to those old apartments provides me with a very inspirational and satisfying sense of being. Like a drunk who can't drink enough; I sought out even more "pleasure" by simultaneously overhauling the exterior of my own home. Perhaps the paint fumes created my manic state, or, perhaps, it was my detest of cranberry shutters... All I know is that most "normal" people wouldn't return home after painting for 7 hours on a hot, muggy day and start painting their own house. Let alone paint until midnight, with a light hanging from a nail on a rickety old wooden ladder!

Thankfully, I came to my senses on Thursday. Well, if I am being completely honest, the threat of rain forced me into a more sane state of mind. It was time to vacation on my vacation. But what would I do? In typical Mona fashion, I had ignored myself. I had made no plans! Before I could settle into a state of disgust, I received a chance response to a chance email sent to my former chance encounter, C.F.

He was nearby.

As life would have it... I was free, and he was as free as he was going to be. I left in the night on an adventure that was one like I hadn't taken since my care-free irresponsible 20's. As I roared down the highway with my barely-there muffler, I began to feel more and more alive. As the yellow dashes disappeared under my bumper, so did that nagging sense of lack I had been lying awake in bed with just days before.

The romance of spontaneity was quickly clouded with hilarity as I realized I had torn my jean pocket on that very nail I hung a light on to paint in the night while passing the pile of ladders in my dark garage. I bought super glue at the gas station and nearly glued my ass to my pants in the parking lot! Thank God for that burning sensation industrial strength adhesive gives when it touches the skin! And that was just the beginning of my adventurous antics! Brilliant me decided to take a 32 ounce travel mug of Mint Sun Tea on the road. Just as I was finding myself lost in a very dangerous looking part of town, I was also finding myself in serious need of peeing! Perfect timing to not know where the hell you are going, and being a lone, woman traveller. Add to that having to turn around on the toll road, of course, paying more tolls; asking the most "safe" looking gentlemen where the street I needed to be on was, only to have another man pull up next to me and tell me to follow him... and you have a lone woman traveller, about to piss her pants, all the while hoping she isn't being led off to a dark alley to be bludgeoned in her super glued and soon to be tinkled in jeans!

Would I get there? Alive and in dry pants?

Desperation was setting in. Frustration was setting in. My would have been 15 minutes early arrival had now become an hour late circling of the city. I tried to call the hotel to tell him I was somewhere nearby, but I had written the number down wrong. I finally came to my senses and found a parking garage. I dumped the car that wouldn't show me the way for a cab that could drop me off at the door of the hotel, allowing me to reach a bathroom, and C.F. , in a more expedient manner. A nice Indian taxi driver recognized the "I have no fuckin' clue what I'm doing and where I'm going" look on my face and waved me to his cab from two lanes over.

Once I found the bathroom, I had to search for the elevators. The hotel was very swank. Relief that I would soon be at his door quickly dissipated when I realized there was no 13th floor... which was where his room should have been, according to his message. Shit! I got off the elevator and headed to the courtesy phone in the hall.

"Is there a room 1301?" I asked.

"No."

"Well can you please connect me with C.F.'s room please?"

Finally. Finally I was at his door.

We spent the next few hours talking. We talked about anything and everything, in a sense of familiarity we hadn't had when we met so many months ago. This wayward journey was one I was glad to have taken. There are people in this world that we share connections with. Connections that are so powerful we cannot begin to understand them, and maybe we aren't supposed to.

I was alive in that moment. In that evening. And although the past several months of my life have been very fulfilling; although so many things are happening for me that I had once given up hope for... I had to let go of the old habit of never holding on to me. C.F. was familiar to me, but this relaxed and rejuvenating feeling I had with him was so very very new. There were no "what ifs" or "why can't we's." There was just us and that very moment in time... in this life.

Although he had asked to share breakfast, I left quietly under the darkness of a stormy Saturday morning as he slept peacefully. My goodbye scrawled on a hotel note pad, I returned to the highway; returned to my life, only not quite as I knew it.

I spent my Saturday afternoon with Chester, as I usually do. Only this time, I daydreamed of the night before while Chester napped in his chair. I went to the beach on Sunday and became reacquainted with the joy I feel when waves crash against my skin. And Monday... Monday I replaced what was left of my old rusty muffler so I could enjoy the comfortable quietness of a cared for car once again.

Soapbox Confessions

I think to say you have "grown up" you must learn the art of forgiveness. I know most people expect you to grow up by your mid-twenties... but, hey, we're all different; and some of us really seem to like doing things the hard way.


I'm happy to say, that at the "young" age of 35... I truly started growing up. When we let the pain of the past wrongs, or the embarrassment of past mistakes control our minds, we prevent ourselves from living life in the present, let alone having any hopes for happiness in the future. Unfortunately, although time stands still in our hearts and minds... we still physically grow old. Bullshit, I say!

Anyway... I've had the pleasure of running into several people I hadn't seen in over 15 years, in the past several months... people that may have not seen me at my best. And how could they have? I was an emotional mess when I was young! And after talking with a few of them, most of us were! I might be turning into a "super sap" in my old age... but there is something truly beautiful, and liberating, about forgiving people for simply being human.


If you were to have asked me, even five years ago, if I would ever consider opening the lines of communication with my very absent father... I would have said "hell no!" and maybe even told you to kiss my ass! But somewhere along my journey through this crazy little thing called "life," I realized that every single one of us has had some sort of struggle, hardship, tragedy, or emotionally devastating event occur in our lives. I realized that maybe my dad wasn't a dad because he literally couldn't be one... maybe he didn't know how. I'm not going to say that his lack of involvement in my life didn't hurt me, and I'm not going to say that exchanging a dozen or so emails with him magically erases any past wrongs or regrets. What I will say, is that just about anyone will tell you that life didn't quite go the way they planned it to... and I don't believe that anyone intentionally makes bad choices. They do what they know... and do what they can.



Does this make it right? Of course not. But if we spend our lives keeping score of who was "right" and who was "wrong," who was "good" and who was "bad," we immediately slam the door of opportunity... the opportunity to love and to learn from other people. The opportunity to forgive. The opportunity to have peace and forgiveness; true happiness in our lives.



Yesterday does not matter! We cannot change the past. We can't change the things we wished we wouldn't have done or said, anymore than those who have hurt us can. But what we can do, is accept things for what they were... what they are... and forgive. Most importantly... forgive ourselves.



Of course I wish that things could have been this "easy" when I was younger, but if I hadn't gone through my own hard times, who's to say I would be the person that I am now? And although I do think it's sad that it took me this many years to be able to talk about those "terrible" things that held be back from being truly happy for so many years... I'm very thankful that I can now say, I just plain don't give a shit! I punished myself for things I had no control over, things I didn't do, things I didn't ask for... and if being blatantly in-your-face honest prevents someone from taking the hard, and painful path... or suffering a life in painful silence... I'll risk the gossip... the "oh my God can you believe?"s...



That's me. A peace-love-and-happiness-can't-we-all-just-get-along kinda girl. And if you haven't noticed, I'm not apologizing for that anymore. I'll proudly stand on my soap box and let you make fun of my obnoxious eighties hair, shake your finger in shame about the guy I shouldn't have slept with, or wonder why I didn't "make something of myself" sooner... because I know if you're reading this, you've got a big heart in you, somewhere (smile!)...


Uh-oh! That big fat clown is coming across the stage now with that big, shut-the-fuck-up cane...

SHARP TURN AHEAD!

Ahhh.


Ah HA!


Life has a strange way of sending us little messages. Little signs directing us gently towards the path that we are meant to travel on. But some of us stubborn, skeptical, students of life, fight this quiet guidance as if the universe were asking us to jump off a cliff!


Over the last couple days of my job juggling, during the few quiet moments I have had to myself... I realized that the decision I was about to make regarding which job I was going to dedicate the majority of my time to was based solely on money and monetary benefits. Yes, I may be crazy... but money means little to me. The last time I made an employment decision based on monetary gain, I suffered great personal loss. Loss of time. Loss of happiness. Loss of self.



What the hell was I thinking? I don't want to go back to that awful place! And if we just crunch numbers... I would have to work 40 hours at the job with benefits to make what I would earn in 25 hours at the job that has that "purpose" I've been so desperately seeking.



The man upstairs had been speaking to me through so many different people... several times a day. Although I really liked the people I was working with, there were those devilish things called "benefits" that were offered there, and I was more than capable of doing the job... I am much more than a person who can create a training schedule on Excel 2007, and happily shoot the shit on lunch break.


Over the last year, despite my struggles surviving unemployment, I have been the happiest I have been in many years. And that's because I was creating. Writing. Crafting artistic things. Satisfying my strongest need. The need to be creative. It took a lot of wrong turns, and learning how to ask for directions to find my proverbial path again. The thought of giving up all of that personal progress and growth, only to drive backwards through life with my eyes closed, is frightening.


These little voices, the signs, have come from strangers, friends, family, co-workers... and my heart. I had been very anxious... slowly realizing that I was about to "sell my soul" for money yet again. I think one of the hardest things for humans to do is to listen to yourself; a rather odd phenomenon considering that when it's all said and done, when we lay down our heads for the very last time... it is you and you alone that has to revel in the joy, or sorrow, your life choices have brought to you.



I was beyond content before I began entertaining the other career choice. Happy and at peace. As soon as I accepted the position, in a rush, to suit their needs, that nagging feeling crept back into my life. I am very confident that I am making the right choice. I have no doubt... no worry. And I'm very grateful that this time it won't take several painful years to get back on track. This time, it's just a simple U-turn.

Good Deed #5- Compassion for Strangers

"Sharon" was one of the three people who came by last night to see the rental unit. She had arrived early, and was very apologetic for doing so. During her showing, Sharon disclosed that she is moving to an apartment due to a pending separation/divorce from her husband of 28 years.

Sharon is rightfully concerned, and somewhat afraid of what the future holds. She hasn't lived alone in over two decades, her family is unaware of her pending decision, and she has not a single possession to call her own. A quiet despair can be seen in her light green eyes.

She has no clue where to begin...

I have been through difficult times, alone, and with support. The difficult times with the support of friends and family have always been easier to bear. Because Sharon is enduring this transition in secrecy, she is alone.

I decided to offer her not only a kind ear, but reassurance that we would help her with whatever she may need. We will help her move, select and find furniture, introduce her to her neighbors, and walk her through every step she's about to take.

Regardless of whether or not the owner selects her as a tenant, I'm going to make a point to make good on my offers. She has enough to deal with, and if a little kindness and compassion provides her with a little comfort, I think her outlook on the future will be a more positive one.

Pulled Pork and Back!

What a crazy week! My anticipated two-day remodel is now in day FIVE. Good news is: I'm in the home stretch, the client loves it, and has offered me more work. Bad news: my poor back and legs hurt like hell!

I've managed to make it this far through the job with only a few bruises, cutting my fingernails to a more work friendly length, and one chemical spill! I was using a corrosive concoction for professional use to eat layers of paint off of the antique hardware. My goal was to keep the cost down for the client and to make use of some character-filled antique hardware. As I was trying to fish the last hinge out of the toxic jar, it tipped over! Right onto the brand new, although very ugly, counter top and flooring! I risked permanent disfigurement of the skin to clean up the spill before anything was damaged; successfully.

After returning home, I ate a pulled-pork sandwich, on an onion bun! I had made the pulled-pork in the crock pot before leaving for the job site. I used "McCormick" brand pulled-pork seasoning, according to the directions. Okay, so I didn't use the "right" amount of pork, and added a little extra brown sugar... Delicious I say! Delicious! But, instead of sitting down and enjoying the fullness of my stomach, I jumped right into some housework. What? Am I crazy? I have the biggest slave-driving boss ever! Me!

But, the pain may be well worth it. A new friend of mine has offered to massage my aches away when he gets out of work. I met him when I was applying for a job. We got along right away. He's quite a funny fellow, and humor is one of my toppers on the wish list for future companion characteristics. We've been talking for a few days, and so far he's on the up and up. Good family. SINGLE. No children. Never married. Teaches Sunday School. Home-owner. College educated. Lovely eyes and dark hair. Very complimentary and sarcastically flirtatious. I'm thinking I might give him a small chance.

Honestly, I've been thinking about C.F. the last few days. I have not heard a word from him in about two weeks. And that's fine, but it leaves me wondering if I truly meant anything at all to him. Was I just a temporary indulgence of his hereditary male horn-dogginess? Our conversations were very in-depth and definitely not just of an adult nature... but was this just part of an elaborate scheme? I may never know. I just get caught up in the wondering sometimes.

Tonight I plugged in my small potted Christmas trees that sit on each side of the door, and hung my garland around the doorway. My house looks like the entrance to a holiday Heaven. Warm and inviting...

Now let's see who crosses the threshold!

The Pain of Painting II

Oh my aching back!!

I taped off a kitchen and bathroom. Painted two coats in the kitchen and one coat in the bathroom. All of that bending and twisting has me bent and twisted out of shape!

My ego took a good jab too! My friend's mom stopped by to check out the project, and she definitely hates the tile (I had nothing to do with that!), and was NOT crazy about the paint color I chose. There weren't a lot of options to work with! I am confident that the bathroom will look amazing, and the kitchen will at least look 100 times better, once I get the cabinets finished and the hardware replaced!

Considering I have not met the client in person... this added opinion is cause for nervousness! I could land some future clients and work if she is happy. I'm not sure what will happen if she isn't! I've never been displeased with my remodels, and have a 100% satisfaction record thus far. Either this will be my first flop... or my visitor couldn't see the vision of the completed project.

If you look at the photo... you can see that this isn't an easy task. I'm hoping to have it completed tomorrow, then I will offer a before and after! Unfortunately, without accessories.

The Pain of Painting

Good morning world!

I've recovered from my sanding without a mask, and woke up before the alarm went off. Shortly, I'll be leaving to begin my remodel project. I've never met my client in person, so I am a little nervous. She's completely trusting in me to solve her decor problems in her rental unit. I feel great about my paint and hardware choices, but I'm working with some challenging aspects. The tile is tolerable, but the counter top is hideous! Ideally, I would change out the counter top, and rearrange and replace the appliances. Like most, however, she has a budget, and it doesn't allow for these things.

Another challenge is the weather. It's currently 28 degrees and there is no heat in the unit. I'll be taking a portable heater to get the room warm enough for painting. All of my painting has taken place in the warmer months, so I don't even have pre-ruined clothes to wear! But I WILL be taking a mask this time. After realizing I had allowed paint and wood particles to settle in my sinus cavity near my brain, I acknowledged how dumb it was not to wear one!

Creative Minds Want to Know!

Today's economy demands creative means of survival! In an effort to find a way out of my financial hell, I have just posted two ads on Craig's List. I'm offering fitness training, and help getting one's house ready for the holidays. It's a little scary, I must admit. These days, you have no idea who's nuts and who isn't, but I'll be able to find ways to keep me safe. Hopefully, I'll get at least a handful of responses, and generate a little much-needed cash.

My mother's friend has apparently tried contacting 30 people to get her leaves cleaned up. "Why didn't someone call ME?!" I declared!

"There are a TON of leaves. You sure you'd want to do that?"

Do I WANT to? Not really. But, come on! I don't want to lose my house or my electricity either. That's the joy of life. It isn't always about what we want! You can bet your sweet patoot I'll be raking "a ton" of leaves next week!

So far, so good with the car! Hooray! That's one worry down... 35 to go!

"MiGo" Crazy For My Thermal Mugs!

Well, I napped a bit...

Last night was a big swirl of socialization, and I hadn't the time to address the goings on! My crazy-fun friend Cortney had called as I was driving aimlessly to the "sorry for the misprint" meeting, "R" had called, I met with some friends to do some networking, came home to an announcement that my friend Dan was stopping by later, and that "R" was on his way as well. Sheeesh! As I tried to email my new non-profit connection, my side job saviour, Todd, called.

And then "R" arrived.

We spent a pleasant evening, first watching "Law & Order," and then the movie "Juno." Yes, I am the ONLY person on the planet Earth who hadn't watched it yet. Correction. R and I were the only TWO people who hadn't seen the movie yet. R made it to the midway point and zonked out. He gets up for work at 5:30 a.m. So I let him rest. The movie was excellent, so what difference did it make? I have to say that I am pretty particular with my humor, and the lines in that film are excellent. "Pork swords" was definitely new terminology to me!

Forgot to mention that three-quarters of the way through "Law & Order," Dan knocked at the door. Dan is a friend of mine I had intended to partner up with in late summer to join forces in the remodelling sector. But, Dan apparently got entangled with a certifiably crazy woman and vanished for a bit. I have yet to get the full story, but I am truly concerned for him. His eyes looked sad and worrisome. I sent him on his way and told him I would call him today... I sure hope I don't regret not taking more time to talk with him. You just never know what someone's state of mind is. Suppose I'll give him a call when I finish here.

Anyway.

I sent poor R to bed to catch a few winks before his drowsy drive to work in the Daylight Savings Time darkness. I, of course, could not sleep. Very well. So I snuck in a post and checked my email around 3:30 a.m. Took a "nap," and then got up right before the alarm clock went off. I thought I'd put in a little "co-habitation" practice... and make R some breakfast.

I do not plan on living with R at this moment, but, at times I do grow a little concerned with my independence! Perhaps I'm a little too in love with my own lone existence. Spoiled, I say! I absolutely love cooking; and love cooking and caring for others even more. So why not make the man breakfast! Hell, he's one of the lucky souls in this forsaken town with a job! Better keep him in working shape!

Quietly, I cooked sharp cheddar scrambled eggs, seasoned bacon, and toast. Poured his coffee into one of my coveted "MiGo" travel mugs, and returned to coax him out of bed.

"It's time for your photo shoot, handsome. And your breakfast is ready."

(Groan) "Whaaat?"

"Your breakfast is ready. Anything for your coffee?"

"No, thank you." He leans up and looks at the clock, "Too bad I won't have time to eat it..."

Oh, I beg to differ! This smart cookie has just the thing! I had saved a plastic container that had some sort of baked goods from the grocery store bakery that doubled nicely as a "takeout" container for sleepyhead's breakfast. I slid the eggs, bacon, and toast into it, closed the lid, and found a set of takeout silverware in the drawer. Placed a blueberry corn muffin in a plastic bag, and sent him on his way with a home-cooked meal... and... my beloved coffee mug!

As he left, I said, "Now, if you decide for any reason that you are not speaking to me again, please leave the mug in my mailbox."

Yes, I have a serious attachment issue with my coffee mug. I am very aware of this. In fact, when my boyfriend and I broke up at the end of last year, that was the only thing I was pissed about! He had gotten away with my "MiGo" coffee mug! The one I sent R out the door with, was the replacement. When I went to pick up the shimmering silver look-a-like, I also treated myself to a beautiful blue one, for a backup!

So help me if I have to buy another!

Unspeakably Unspoken

I did it.
I broke the silence. The security. His serenity.
I wrote C.F.
I said one-gazillionth of the things I long to say...
I wanted him to know that I think of him; every day.
He's busy. Wrapped up in life. In the demands of being him. But I had to tell him. I still want him. Need him, but that, I didn't say. He wrote back, and said I can expect a "proper letter" soon.

Fuck proper! Nothing about us is, or was, proper. Part of me wishes I'd never met him, and the other can't stop wishing we'd never "parted." And, I'm simply driving myself mad thinking.

Our "entanglement" was secret. So I'm left alone... to wallow in it. I dare not discuss it freely... only he and I may truly understand it.

I miss him.

I'm pushing people away... like the rich on a street full of beggars... and although I do not enjoy my loneliness, I wish not to share it. It's unspeakable. Unspoken.

The Blessing of Believing

I made a tough decision Tuesday. I decided to invest $59 in myself. What's the big deal, you ask? The big deal is that $59 in my world right now... is keeping my electricity on... one tenth of my car insurance that I don't have money for. A much needed trip to the grocery store!

But, there was a "How To Self- Publish Your Own Book" workshop offered through the Adult Continuing Education program through K.C.C. and I wanted to take it. I have researched, to no end, the publishing world and what options best fit my budget and needs. I wanted to hear it from someone who has done it. Put the voice of experience and reason to what I have read.
So I pondered the expense, the investment, over the weekend. "What's $59 dollars in the big scheme of things?" I declared. So Tuesday afternoon, I faxed in my payment.

The workshop was scheduled today from 6-9 p.m. The instructor/author, Richard L. Baldwin, was an excellent presenter and the information was valuable. I felt it was money well-spent.
He finished his presentation early, and said that we didn't have to go, because we had paid for three hours. The rest of the "class" left. I said, "Mr. Baldwin, if you don't mind, I'd like to take the rest of the time to pick your brain." He obliged.

So I sat across from him, presented my finished book, marketing idea and vision. Not only did he agree, he presented me with my complimentary copy of his book, inscribed with "(Mona), I see much success for you. Rich Baldwin." That, in itself, kind of choked me up.

We talked further, and he said, "You have it all together. You're personable, witty, intelligent and attractive. You have a business head and a writer's head. But I sense some frustration. What is it that has you frustrated, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Money. It's the damn money! I believe in what I'm doing. I know I'm doing what I should be doing... finally. And it all feels great. I'm ready! I just can't get over that hurdle. It's the ONLY thing holding me back right now, and I'm too proud to call in favors." I said.

"I'm about to say something, and I'm putting myself at risk of offending you... but, I want you to see it as an investment. As a testament to the fact that I believe in you and I want strongly for you to keep on this path. I want to give you $40."

(Fought back tears on that one!)

"Well, Mr. Baldwin. I am aware that I have a problem with accepting gifts, so I am going to say thank you, and accept this investment, on one condition: that you allow me to acknowledge your generosity and inspiration in my first published work."

We shook on it.

I was really touched. The gift of positive encouragement is invaluable to me at this point in my journey. Somehow, a long time ago, I lost that belief in myself. Lost touch entirely with myself. What this kind man did for me will never be forgotten.
And, as he said, when we parted ways in the parking lot... "I hope our paths cross again."

Ravenous!

I'm ravenous! Consumed with an undeniable hunger!!!!

"R"stopped by earlier after he got out of work and brought me some grapes. I had craved them the other night and he said he would bring them. He did. And, he brought with him some serious sexual tension. He took a tour of my house, and in between exploring the work I had done to it were awkward pauses. The kinds of pauses that lead to lustful make out scenes in the movies.

But he, and I refrained.

Until...

He stopped by for a few minutes later on. We chit-chatted politely. I got him a glass of water. He sat on the couch. I sat on the couch. He hugged me to thank me for having him over... and then laid one on me!

Wow. Hot. He's an excellent kisser. Things were warming up, but nothing "inappropriate" for a first kiss meeting of the lips transpired. I'll admit that after my spoiled rendezvous with C.F.... I have some serious sexual tension and frustration built up. He's definitely present in my mind, and I'm not ready to commit to anyone... but sex; sex would be very nice.

The grapes, perhaps the "forbidden fruit" have yet to be consumed, and "R" says he's coming over for a few tomorrow. Looks like I have some decisions to make. Do "it" or don't. That's tonight's question.

The Empty Chair...

I have sat here... in this same... old... hard... cold...

uncomforting, uncomfortable chair... for twelve hours. Half a day. A lifetime. Lifetime of feelings. Conversations. Words. Said. And unspoken...

And

I

Am...

Mourning. Frustrated. Sad. Hopeful. Desperate. Needy. Full. Empty...

All at once. And...

All

Alone.

In this empty chair...

Passing Pictures Through The Door

I spent the last few days pondering what I wanted to say in response to my dad's message. Deciding how I wanted to address his allusion to my childhood. How to balance natural curiosity and honesty without producing feelings of guilt or remorse for that which can't be transformed: the past.

So I kept it brief, and to the point. I just said life was rough, but not entirely terrible and that I faired well. Then went on to talk about our beloved German Shepherd, Heidi, that he remembered.

And I pushed the door open slightly... I sent him a photo that I had taken. One of my favorites. Something that I created. A piece of me, that inevitably is a piece of him...

Honest. To be or not to be?

Message received from Dad today:

"i'm relieved to hear back from you! i wondered if i had offended. will write more later. I was out riding my motorbike thru gorgeous weather.....oxygenated blue October skies...thru some teeny towns....with kids and bicycles out playing....a BIG romantic memory swept over me of how simple it was to go home to mom and a warm meal. Simple adventures of youth to relate to gentle loving attentions. No giant world complexes to be guilty and worried about. Smooth and soft like a simple cotton apron.....what a LOVE STORY!!! I hope you got the same fundamentally wholesome "nucleus" of goodness in your early youth. Remember an oil well engine way back in your infancy? And how 'bout Heidi!? Love, Buck"

Here is where I begin to question the level of honesty and openness that I want to have with him. His message is warm and lovely. I have no doubt that my grandmother was a very loving mother to him. But is it time to tell him my reality? Does he need to know that because my mother had to raise and support us kids on her own; that she was always at work or collapsed in a state of exhaustion on the couch, and therefore emotionally and somewhat physically unavailable to me? That nothing for us was really ever simple? Does he need to know that I was actually a quite lonely child and craved the love of a parent? The adoration and pride? That because of this desire for approval and love I wasted a lot of time pleasing others and lived with a secretive and painful void in my heart? Is it time to really dive into the murky waters of the past in the hopes of untangling the weeds to achieve a state of serene clarity? Is it truly necessary to speak of that which we cannot change? The past which I have spent years slowly releasing myself from the bondage of?

Am I ready? Is he ready?

I refuse to be anything less than honest. Is the unspoken truth a form of deception? What is better left unsaid here? That is the question.

A Walk in The Park...

Sunday. The "Day of Rest."

I slept well, and slept in. Woke up feeling energized and ready to seize the day. A walk to the park nearby was planted in my head as the first thing on my list of things to do for the day. So I geared up in some jeans, tennis shoes, a long sleeve t-shirt and hooded sweatshirt. Topped off my outdoorsy ensemble with a fleece beanie and headed out the door.

I was surprised and slightly ashamed at how quickly I made it down there. Why hadn't I walked down there throughout the summer? Oh yeah. Not supposed to live in the past or beat myself up for the "would have" should haves!"

Anyway, it was a beautiful adventure. The rustling in the bushes, birds singing in the trees... and the leaves turning vibrant shades of red. I even had a groundhog cross the trail ahead of me, and it reminded me of my recently deceased backyard friend. I had taken my camera and took advantage of the surrounding beauty by snapping over twenty photos. My beautiful adventure was a quiet walk, hand-in-hand with Mother Nature herself. And just what I needed for the day.

I'm really trying to take a better approach at life. To better celebrate each gift the new days bring. Sure I might not have any money to spend, but my spirit soothing stroll didn't cost me a dime. A lot of life's great joys are free! And speaking of free... on a whim I decided to seek out a piano on Craig's List last night. And by 4 p.m. today, I had one! And if my luck wasn't already pouring over the brim... I ran into a friend of mine that happily offered to help me move it from the woman's house to mine! So before my decision to learn the piano or guitar even had a chance to fade away, I had to replace it with the final plans to make it a reality! I should be clunking and plunking away on it by Monday of next week!

A Bartender and a Gentleman

I decided to "bite the bullet" today and call the "gentleman's club" about a job. I've never considered working in one and was not sure how they go about hiring. I talked to a very nice sounding gentleman...

"Hi. I'm interested in employment with you, and was wondering if you could tell me if you have any openings and what I approach I should take."

"What position were you looking for?"

"Ideally bartender... or waitress."

"Well, I know they did some hiring this weekend. I'm not sure if they filled everything or not, but they were looking for some girls. You will need to talk to Becky."

Great! I should have gone there LAST week! But, I decided to gamble the gas money on a trip over in hopes of acquiring a job. I was getting a kick out of deciding what to wear. What DO you wear for a gentleman's club job? Not much if you want to be a stripper... but that's not what I'm after. So I picked through the closet. I'm not much of a "hoochie" dresser... so I had to get creative. I found a pair of black pants that make my ass look hot and my legs long and lean... and then a green shirt that I had purchased last summer to try to get a client of the salon to notice me in a "sexy" way. I put on the "bedroom eyes," smoky grey shadow with smudgy black liner. I think I managed a good balance of sexy and classy.

As I was driving over there the sky opened up and dumped a massive amount of rain on the highway. It was raining so hard I could barely see and was pulled off the road for a minute by a deep puddle. Just then my stomach began flopping around. Nerves? Or was this God trying to prevent me from seeking a job in a sinner's paradise? I figured as long as I didn't vomit all over my clothes... that I was going to move on down, move on down the road.

The place was recently sold and remodelled. Definitely not the dark and dingy place I vaguely remember from a drinking binge years ago. It was actually nice... and the bar was great! It is back along the wall... so I wouldn't be smack dab in the middle of the bouncing boobs. It was early evening and wasn't very busy. Every "gentleman" that walked in, headed right to the bar, which tells me there is money to be made there. Becky was very personable and seemed to be a respectable gal.

"I just trained one of my waitresses on the bar and hired another waitress to take her place. But I see you have bartended before. Let's give it a couple weeks and see how this works out. And then you can meet Jim."

Well, damn't! I want to meet Jim now! I need a job world! Unless I can find a free ticket out of this hopeless town... I might just as well rot here. Do they repo people?

Love is in the air...

Love is in the air... and it has been for weeks now. Why have I kept this from you, you ask? Because it is soooooo amazingly beautiful that I don't believe it's happening!


If you will recall, in my previous post, "Incurably In Love," I had mentioned fantasizing about my two entirely inaccessible lovers fighting for my affection. Looks like the possibility of that might not be far off!

I received my mail from Manus on Monday. All the way from Ireland. I found even the envelopes to be romantic... from the "Royal Mail" to his beautiful penmanship. Penmanship that read with sincerity and effort. His first package contained a book, "The Third Policeman" by Flann O'Brien, complete with a dated message penned inside. When I opened the book further... a folded pink note fell out... with a poem he had written, his first, to me and a Dave Matthews CD with the song, "Some Devil" on it. One of the first songs he ever sent me a link to while we chat. The second item was a cute card by Edward Monkton that he had seen while out shopping. It's a silly little thing about biscuits... "biscuit" is one of my many nicknames for Manus. (Biscuit is Irish speak for cookie) Inside, a cute poem he had written to me:

Wrapped in shiny tinsel;
A secret held within;
Chocolate chips upon your lips-
Frosting sticky on your skin.

Crispy coated
Mallow centered
A biscuit to be remembered.

The opposite page said...

"Spotted this Petal,
and thought of you
xxx"

Every bit of what he sent was sincere, full of sentiment, and just plain touching. And I love that he calls me "Petal."

Now back to reality... he lives in Ireland. We've never met in person. Never looked into each other's eyes. Shared a kiss. Held each other... Could we ever be truly in love? Bridge the distance between us?

Time will tell.

In comes "suitor" number two. My "creative friend." We've been exchanging emails for a couple weeks now. They have grown in number and affection. Completely unexpected and unplanned. And again... he's far away. We share silly little poetry written for each other... and sometimes just a battle of "x's and o's." We talk about our struggles, hopes, and dreams... He enjoys my writing and the pictures that I send him and admires my work. Supports my decision to pursue my creative ventures, and when he says he's thinking of me... I just melt.

I'm struggling with my "two timing" behavior, and constantly reminding myself that I am not committed to either man. Add to that the fact that I have never met either of these men in person... so technically, my conscience should be clear. Right now I am trying to simply enjoy what I share with both of them and let fate determine if either or both of them become a more tangible part of my life. Compared to my previous dating experiences... I am in absolute Heaven!