My Vicarious Sex Life

It's a rainy Saturday morning... actually it's nearing noon, and I have spent my waking hours in bed... watching a fabulously scandalous show: Mistresses. The men are delicious and the story lines are captivating. And, I, I am in sweatpants with gravity defying bangs.

I realize that it's unlikely that I'll walk out my door today, on my way to care for a 94 year-old man and meet a dashingly handsome man who wants to romantically ravage my body in expensive, high-thread-count sheets... but one can dream, can't they?

It's T.V.... unrealistic, right?

Since discovering this show, I find myself questioning my own romantic motives, or more accurately the lack of. Fact is, it has been over five months since I have found myself entertaining the rip-your-clothes off kind of thoughts... and I miss them. I miss him. At least the forgotten feelings he so easily stirred up in my mind. And I'm wondering, is it time to find his replacement? Is it possible to find someone who has such a power over you that you forget all that is proper, and allow yourself to endulge your every desire? I hadn't planned on finding him. And I'm still not quite sure why, or how, it all happened, but I know it doesn't happen often... and how long will I have to impatiently wait until the forces that be allow me to feel so alive again?

The Root of My Problems...

This morning I decided it was time to get to the root of my problems: my roots! A handful of randomly placed silvery strands were trying to blow my cover. Trying to lead people to believe that I'm old.

It was time to fight back!

Before I could even fully open my eyes this morning, I was mixing pungent chemicals and pulling on plastic gloves. Reading directions wasn't necessary. I'd done this before. Soon after, I was dropping the applicator brush, dotting my face with color, and losing the battle to keep an old towel on my shoulders. Touching up your roots before you're completely awake... before even having your morning coffee, isn't the best plan of action against those tattle-tale tresses, although it's hard to get frustrated, when you aren't even sure that you're conscious.

I really don't have many gray hairs (yet), but I do have evil ones! It seems they have decided to sprout in the most obvious areas... like each side of my part. Because I have dark hair, even one solitary silver hair shines as bright as a lighthouse beacon in an oceanic storm. I had been watching them get longer, growing more obnoxious as the days passed by. I was just lost in a state of perplexity... analyzing how I truly felt about the fact that I am getting older; so I allowed myself time to get to the root of the problem.

I've either aged a lot in the last year, or I've just had too much time to pay attention to the most minute things while I've been unemployed. I see little lines around my eyes, and on my chest. And those pesky gray hairs... My eyes are taking longer and longer to "de-puff" in the morning...

It's happening. I'm aging!!!!

Hello!

You're soon to be 38 years old.

Okay. So, I'm at an age where I'm expected to have wrinkles and gray hair. But, I'm also expected to be married, have children, a stable income, and a 401k with more money in it than mine has. Instead, I'm single, barely dating, childless and lacking a ticking clock, employed part-time temporarily, and have less than ten grand for retirement. The problem is, there isn't really a problem!

I'm pretty happy!

Practical-thinking people must think I'm nuts, but the only thing I'm concerned with is being physically unappealing when I'm 70 and still looking for "the one." But then again, I won't be the only wrinkled soul in that age-bracket, just maybe the only one wearing a skirt!

I was/am a late bloomer. I get this. Perhaps I fear that I'll run out of time before I truly find my way. Before "my calling" actually gets through my busy mind. I'd like to have kids, maybe, but not now... and the shelf-life on my carton of eggs shortens every day. Am I on the right track, or on a runaway train full of regrets? Why did I make life so difficult if it was really this easy?

Life seemed hardest when I worried about other people; other things. Now that my life has become literally simple, the intrinsic value of my very own existence is simply more clear. So what if I'm not the next Octo-mom, Donald Trump, or blushing bride! And so what if I have a couple gray hairs! I'd like to think of them as little reminders to make the most of what I do have; the most of my life... because even though the gray hairs might, my life, won't last forever.

Baby Needs A New Pair Of Shoes!

This morning I had to claw my way out of the most bizarre dream I've had in some time to get up and ready for work. I hadn't even bothered to pick out clothes to wear the night before, what's the point? There's nothing there. My wardrobe is like a multiple choice test in your high school English class, but instead of circling the best answer... you circle the closet looking for the best pair of pants. Best meaning they kind of fit.

This isn't working... this working. I'm not equipped for the job.

I barely made it out the door on time, wearing my $9 green cashmere sweater (again) and saggy seven year old pants with a loose hem on the left leg. This ensemble was accessorized with tired, two year old black heeled boots hiding underneath my unravelling and unflattering pants. I've noticed that the director looks at my boots often, and I think it's out of sympathy, or perhaps plain old confusion. Regardless of what other's think, these boots are barely holding on to their soles, and the soon-to-be-warmer weather commands less cumbersome footwear...

Baby needs a new pair of shoes!

It just so happened, that when I went shopping last week, I purchased a sweater that I hadn't tried on, and of course, it didn't' fit well. Since I had to take it back... I justified using that money towards a respectable pair of shoes... and again... I'm truly hoping that I'll be kept on permanently. A gamble, yes, but if they don't keep me on... at least I will have a nice pair of shoes for interviews!

First thing this morning, I was informed that the fellow staff member I referred to as "the least outgoing," gave me a compliment, and she NEVER does that, exclaimed the director and HR assistant. "She's the coldest fish you will ever meet, and she knows it, so for her to give you a compliment, that is a VERY big deal." Danielle stressed. Ms. Fish had to leave work unexpectedly to tend to her sick child, and asked me to finish a project for her. I was more than glad to do it, and I somehow managed to impress her with my competency. The interesting dynamic is that this "cold fish," and Danielle are sisters-in-law, and have worked together for a few years. Obviously, they have an interest in who they "invite" into their workplace, so if Ms. Fish likes me... I'm one person closer. I'm looking at this like hitting a penny slot jackpot! Not quite the big win, but a win nonetheless!

Enlightened...

I forgot to mention my Saturday with Chester!

Since beginning my visits with Chester, I've been concerned about his daily life. Physically he is well cared for, but I worry that his emotional well-being might be suffering. I'd love to be able to get him outside, to move him about the house, but I can't manage that on my own. I can be pretty lazy at times, but the thought of being confined to a bed or a recliner every day of my life seems rather depressing!

This past Saturday, his weekly caregiver, and my friend Pat, stopped by, and I noticed that Chester spoke freely to her. So after she left, I pulled a chair up next to his bed and started talking to him. He gave me a very cute puzzled look and asked, "Do I know you?" I make a point to tell him who I am when I arrive, so he doesn't get spooked because there is a stranger in the house, but I now realize that although he is coherent at the moment, I don't feel his mind retains the present. He'll ask who I am 15 minutes after I've told him my name, but when it comes to the past, his memory seems very clear. He told me where he went to college, and that he had a master's degree. He told me he played basketball and golf. And he even said, "You sure are good-lookin'!" Ha! My favorite moment speaking with Chester was when I told him that if he needed anything he could yell at me, "I'll let ya," I said. He smiled... a big warm smile.


It was so sweet talking with him, especially since he hardly speaks with his wife and daughter. They have been very worried about his silence and were surprised when I told them about our conversation. I left out the "good-lookin'" part, of course. When I told them that he said he went to the University of Michigan, had a master's degree, golfed, and played basketball, they knew he was speaking... and that he remembered things. There was a true expression of happiness and relief on their faces... a gift to them... and a gift to me.

I'm disappointed in myself for not speaking more with him before, but now that I see how much he welcomes a conversation, I'm going to make a point of speaking with him every visit. I could see how easily someone might just give up, and let go... when they think the world is just passing them by. He's got a bed sore from his chair, and I don't think he enjoys being in the bed all day... so I'd really like to boost his spirits. I wish I had a video camera to capture his conversations for his family to treasure in the event that he passes; a way to capture the moments they don't see. It's hard to explain why I feel so attached to these people, and why I feel such a need to see that Chester's days are happy ones; but it is one of those "gut" feelings that you simply can't ignore.

I See The Light!

Finally... Spring is slowly inching its way back into my life. I have always adored the warmer months, with blooming flowers, and the smell of grass under your feet... but this year... I can't wait for the furnace to quit coming on! That's what life has come to! The beauty of nature is now second to a more affordable heat bill!

The best gift of Spring approaching is the earlier arrival of the sun each morning. What a help it is to pry me out of bed for my new-found state of employment. Despite all of my efforts, I never seemed to manage getting back to "normal," while I wasn't working; and now after just under two weeks, with or without the alarm, I'm up with the sun...

It slaps me in the face!

I wanted to create a "breezy" feel in my bedroom, so I have very thin, white cotton striped curtains hung at my windows. They serve the breezy purpose well, but they aren't sleep-in friendly at all! If I desire to sleep in past the rising of the sun, I am forced to risk suffocation while seeking shelter under my down comforters. Sometimes I laugh at how quickly I would have replaced those curtains with ultra-thick, insulated, black sun-proof ones back in the wild night-life days! I remember hating the sun... and the obnoxiously chirping birds when I was trying to sleep past noon. Now that I have changed my misguided ways, I feed the birds, and enjoy the brightness, and soon to be warmth, of the morning sun. Growing up does funny things to you!

I went to ceramics today. I'm a little frustrated that they haven't fired the kiln since last week. I have about 11 pieces waiting to be fired. In fact, today I emptied out my once cluttered drying shelf. Everything is waiting! Susan and I stepped out mid-way through the "clay day," for our regular shit-shooting session, and while we were outside, she found out that I have never used the wheel to throw clay. "I really like the direction you are going in with your clay. You have such an eye... and it's really cool to see you developing as an artist. You have to throw. I bet you'll get it the very first time." She said. WHAT? I absolutely admire her work! SHE has an eye! And some crazy impressive skills! She studied art in college, and has worked with ceramics for more than 20 years. Me? I'm a complete novice who's only goal is to have my work not shatter in the kiln! The rest is like a bonus! My friend saw some of my in-progress work on my Myspace page, asked me if I sell it, and suggested that I join her for one of her open house gatherings to sell some of my work. What? Would someone BUY it? I'm not sure about that!

What I am sure of, however, is my unfortunate inability to really take any compliments in when it comes to my work. I may still be new with ceramics, but in the past, I have produced some pretty cool art stuff, that others have received quite well. But how can I believe that anyone would want my stuff, if I, myself, do not appreciate it? Why is there such a detachment with most anything I create? Am I that afraid of being self-absorded and egotistical that I have no ego at all? In my defense, I didn't really grow up in an encouraging environment. I didn't have a lot of "cheering on" as a kid... so maybe it's new to me. Maybe it's just something I have to learn. I had a famous singer/songwriter compliment me on some writing I shared with him, and even that didn't give me a "maybe I am talented" feeling. This numbness I have had is something that I have been acknowledging during my self-exploration-because-you-have-nothing-else-to-do time... and I'm very curious about it. But... as I begin to share more of what I truly love, what I truly am... a quirky creative creature... I become less afraid of what people might NOT like, and more open to the fact that they don't have to like it, but I have to create anyway... that's what I'm most happy doing.