I stayed home from work today and it's something I haven't done in over a year. I've taken vacation days to go on fun and interesting adventures but for me to take a sick day I have to be in serious discomfort. I don't like being benched. Today I took a sick day because I have had an almost constant headache and neck ache for nearly a week. I twisted or pulled something in my neck and the more I move, the more the pain radiates up through my entire head. As I write this I'm sitting up in bed with a heating pad curled up behind my neck like a pillow and it's bringing much needed relief. Poor Jazzmin is confused as to why mama is home and not taking her for a walk but I'll make up it up to her with lots of hilly walks when I'm back up to snuff. I'm not one to accept being waylaid by sickness or pain. Despite my undying headache I still went to the gym twice this week and walked on my lunch breaks and did all the normal exercise I usually do. In hindsight, maybe I should have taken it easier on myself but I tend to be rather stubborn. I always get stubbornness and determination confused and when I get it set in my head that I want to do something, I do it. This trait of mine has led me to experience many life lessons that were nothing at all like I expected and to accept that the best laid plans are more like guidelines than how things will really work out. I've had a lot of time to think today and try to come to terms with certain things. There are some pages in the novel of me that I have to turn and I'm having a hard time with it. I don't want to move the bookmark; I don't want to put those chapters totally in my past where the memories of them will eventually fade. I keep hoping that if I just reread a certain page or paragraph a few more times I'll see where I went wrong and where life took a turn in the direction I never wanted it to go. The writing remains the same though, the words don't change and the experiences have all happened and time has continued on. Despite how I sometimes wish time would stop moving forward, it always does and I eventually remember that fighting it is a foolish waste of my heart and spirit. So I will turn the pages and I will start a new chapter and I will continue on with my undying optimism and hope. I always persevere and the sunshine always breaks through the storm clouds. Always.
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Through my enjoyment of romantic comedies, I have heard a lot about what people think are the best places to meet other singles. Grocery stores, laundromats, the gym, bars and nightclubs are just a few I've heard suggested. So while I continue my exploration of online dating, I figure I'd give the "offline" world a whirl and see what happens. This past weekend I took a slightly whirlwind tour of most of such places and it proved interesting. I went out to a sports bar Friday night with one of my girlfriends but as I expected, it wasn't really my scene. There were men sitting at the bar and I glanced at them but I don't really want a man who hangs out at a bar. Chances are if he's there once, he's there often and that doesn't work for me. So I chose a table way in the back of the restaurant to eat at and my girlfriend and I had a great time talking and catching up. She rolled her eyes at me for my desire to remain hidden in the back but as she already has a boyfriend, she wasn't real eager to sit at the bar either. I go grocery shopping once or twice a week and rarely see a single looking man who appeals to me. The ones I do see usually don't notice me which is their loss in my opinion. Truth is, there could be attractive men milling about in the frozen foods that I never see because when I shop, I shop with a purpose. I have things to do and places to be and more often than not I'm power walking through the aisles. If an attractive man is ever bold enough to try and keep up with my pace and say hi, I'll be impressed. This past Saturday's jaunt to the grocery store produced no such men though. I had to go to the laundromat to wash the bedspreads I use to line Jazzmin's crate and her bed in my room because they don't wash well in a normal machine. The laundromat was pretty deserted even in the college town where it was and while I did get my laundry done, someone there walked off with my bleach and I ended running out of quarters before everything was dry. I suppose a laundromat in a more populated area might produce better results but I live where I live and it is what it is. I belong to a gym and go on weekdays either before or after work. There are rarely more than three people in the place and the ones that are there are usually older gentlemen or women. I admire and appreciate anyone who works out and takes charge of their health but have yet to see any men there that appeal to me. Again, I'm there with a purpose and my time is precious so I don't really go to window shop for dudes. I have occasionally noticed younger men glance at me when they're actually there but usually the attention I receive is due to my clumsiness. I've lost track of how many times I've become tangled in my earbuds and accidentally dropped by mp3 player while on the elliptical. I've also whacked my head on a few of the machines while adjusting things and stumbled over air pockets in the floor so if a muscled guy is looking for a little hard body chick who is grace personified, that sure isn't me! So my weekend was a whirlwind tour of the usual "singles scene" and while it was interesting, I didn't meet a single available attractive man. I continue on my quest for love and companionship though and to all those other single people out there on a similar quest, I wish you the best of luck! Just remember that fortune favors the bold and the sweetest rewards can come from the hardest work. I tend to give my pets middle names and those names reflect an aspect of their personality. Before I adopted Jazzmin I thought all dogs immediately did their business when they were taken outside. Nope, not Jazz. I also believed that all dogs happily ate their food when it was placed in their bowl. Nope, not Jazz. Discovering the personality traits of my pup were quite interesting to me. Since I adopted her in the middle of winter I really wasn't excited about being outside in cold temperatures while she stuck her face into the snow up to her ears sniffing for something or other. I just wanted her to do her thing and be done. It had been hours since we'd been out last and I was sure she had to go...but she thought otherwise. After 10 minutes or so of sniffing, Jazzmin was done being outside and still hadn't answered nature. This was exasperating to me but Jazz is a quirky creature just like me so I shouldn't really have been surprised. As such occurrences continued, I started saying to Jazzmin "This is your last chance, Sundance." indicating that she needed to hurry things along. The name Sundance rattles around in my head because of the movie "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" and it just sounds like a cool name. Jazz didn't necessarily understand what I was saying but she recognized my impatient tone and sometimes she'd cooperate but mostly she'd just be Jazz, the pup who does things in her own time and when she feels like it. It's a good thing she's so adorable. So my little rhymed warning grew into her middle name and I think it fits her for more than just her delays in answering nature and eating her food. She is a fun ball of golden warmth and she does a little tap dance with her front paws when she's really happy and excited so in that respect, Sundance suits her. With Jazzmin Sundance by my side and as my shadow I'll continue to blaze a new trail and I know she'll loyally follow me to the ends of the Earth. "Must Love Dogs" starring Diane Lane and John Cusack is one of my favorite movies. I can relate to Diane Lane's character on many levels and the part in the grocery store involving how much chicken she wants to buy always makes me laugh. It's an amusing movie for those who enjoy romantic comedies like myself. I'm still personally in search of love. I'm sure I'm not alone in my belief that it is no easy task. Trying to find that one other person who connects with you in the deepest part of your heart and accepts you unconditionally is a daunting endeavor. Many have thrown in the towel or "benched" themselves feeling it hopeless, but not me. Perhaps it's the undying romantic in me that holds out hope that someday, the right one will come along. My girlfriends all want me to find someone special who can truly appreciate me and my unique quirks as much as they do. As cool and cute as I believe myself to be, I have received rather mixed signals from the opposite sex, as I'm sure everyone has. Sometimes the uncertainty and confusion of it all leads me to wonder if it might be easier to be a dog. For one thing, dogs don't really understand a majority of human conversations. If someone tells them "you're weird" in a fun praising tone, they'll think that's an awesome thing! If a person just wants to be with them to pet them, that's just peachy too! Not to mention the fact that dogs receive cookies for doing something good. Were it possible for me to reward myself with a cookie every time I did something praiseworthy without it going to my hips, I'd be all for that too! But I'm human and like ALL humans, I'm flawed. I'm beautifully imperfect me. What I find interesting about the movie "Must Love Dogs" is that neither of the main characters actually own a dog until the end credits. Obviously that isn't the main point of the movie but it's part of the theme. I do personally own a dog and I love my Jazzmin and I want a man who can love her too...just not more than he loves me. Sound peculiar? If you'd lived my life up to this point, it wouldn't sound peculiar at all. As I've mentioned in previous blogs, a majority of dog lovers that encounter Jazz comment on what a beautiful dog she is. I don't disagree with them. Jazz has gorgeous conformation when she stands alert watching for something and nearly every inch of her is sleek, and yet somehow curvaceous, muscle. Her adorable brown eyes are outlined in black giving her that 80's look and her right ear is always up a little higher than her left. She has a streak of white down her nose and down the front of her chest and she always looks so clean and well put-together. Every morning I wake up to her head on the edge of my bed as her tail thumps in a cute rhythm against my hamper and feeling that kind of love and loyalty is a great way to start the day! She has this way of flopping down on the carpet as if she's just gone "splat" and she can be oh so dramatic when laying in the middle of the kitchen trying to pretend she doesn't know I'm cooking. If that whole description of my dog just made you start to nod off then you're obviously not as appreciative of the canine form as myself. I adopted Jazz from a local shelter to keep me company, make me feel less lonely when I don't have my daughters and to make me go for walks. She did all of that and more and I am eternally grateful I found her. Judging by the huge burp she just did in my face as her comment on dinner, she's grateful I found her too. She'll be 3 years old in October (as guessed by the shelter) and she's still very much a puppy. She's a very good girl and has decent manners but I admit we could use some help coordinating our efforts out on walks. We may always be figuring each other out but I love her and she loves me and we work. Now if I can just find a man who cares about me, thinks it's cool that I have such an adorable dog and has no problem when I occasionally load her in the car to go see him where he lives...then we'll be talking. For now it's just Jules and Jazz and the never-ending adventures continue... They're rebuilding one of the main roads I take to get to work. It's a county road and heavily trafficked so I knew construction would take considerable time. When I say "heavily trafficked" I mean I would encounter 3-5 cars on it driving home during rush hour. I live in the country so if traffic is ever bumper to bumper it's because there's deer crossing slowly, a house is on fire and the road is closed or there's been an accident. Now that the road is down to one lane during construction, I'm realizing just how many people use that road and I've decided that I will no longer be one of those people until the project is done. Finding a way around such a main route in the country involves navigating winding back roads that are often gravel, but as I drive an SUV with good ground clearance and suspension, I'm not intimidated. I got directions from point A to point B via Google Maps and then rerouted those directions around the main road it felt to be the "easiest" way. There's nothing easy about being stuck parked in construction traffic for 15-20 minutes when I need to get home for my daughters' bus. At least on country roads I'm moving along and in control of my own speed. I am familiar with most of the roads on the plotted route so I knew that once I've driven it a couple times I'd be able to go by landmarks. Landmarks being things like half-dead trees, old barns and cutely painted mailboxes. Driving the hilly, winding, gravel roads is quite the adventure. In the mornings there aren't many cars on these roads, so when I'm driving the only traffic I usually encounter are squirrels, deer, crows and flocks of other smaller birds. All the critters seem rather surprised to see a SUV barreling along their roads and I have to come to near complete stops for indecisive squirrels and deer. Birds go flying off in a dither, probably swearing at me in chirps but they'll just have to get used to seeing me. I'll be driving through the Disney-like nature of these back roads until construction is complete. At the rate the crew is going, that won't be until October if I'm lucky. Another interesting little detail about these country roads is that half of them don't have road signs. Directions that say "turn left on Smith Road" are totally useless when Smith Road isn't labeled and looks like every other winding road around. Putting signs up might be on the town's "to do list" or they may never go up because the people who live on those roads like being incognito. It's okay, I figure out where I'm going eventually and I certainly understand the desire to remain hidden. The roads tend to be all in shadow because of the abundance of trees and as the leaves change color for autumn I'm sure I'll be treated to beautiful tours through shades of red, orange and yellow. My chosen route is actually faster than being stuck in construction...unless I decide to stop and take pictures with my little Canon Powershot. Such an endeavor is an acceptable delay and far more enjoyable than being parked among other grumbling commuters. In driving, just as in life, I won't allow my journey to be stopped by the dictates of others. I will keep moving forward in the direction of my choosing and I will face whatever lies around each curve and over every hill with my usual optimism and hope. From a Dream
The wear-worn pads of his whitish-grey paws- fur matted and frozen in snow, claws coated with ice- crunch through the white chilled blanket of flakes of frozen rain. Pants of breath form small clouds about his ebony nose and disappear as swiftly as they come. Whiskers, sharp as swords, twitch in the cold ignoring the glass water coating their senses. Ice-eyes- dark pupils reflecting a fire within, gaze unblinking and constant- scan every corner of the white-layered forest, un-fazed by the moaning of the wind. White pieces of sky descend serenely and settle upon the coarse fur, no longer melting as they once had. Instead, they gather in small piles working in among the greys, whites, and light browns of each thick hair. Yet no bit of winter stings the proud hunter. No trees groaning under the weight of the snow could startle him. He listens for their calls among songs of small brave birds and scrambling of rabbits and prey. The echoed howlings and mournful songs reach his sharp angled ears. And the wolf returns to lead his pack to follow his destiny. When I first adopted Jazzmin from the local animal shelter, I walked her every day, sometimes twice a day. Impressive considering it was the middle of winter and some mornings the temperature was below freezing with a wind chill! Jazz was never bothered by the cold though and as long as I bundled up to my eyeballs I was pretty good, especially once half my body went numb. As cold as those walks were, they were a great opportunity for Jazz and I to get to know each other. I'd been living in that particular country block for four months already and had walked the roads many times so I thought I knew them well. Wrong. Walking roads with a dog is entirely different than walking them alone. Dogs are much more conscious of their surroundings, or at least Jazz is. She could see and hear every bird flap, squirrel hop, and branch twitch and spot a deer five miles away and three hills over. I might be exaggerating slightly, but she was certainly attentive! I hadn't owned a dog since I was a teenager and while Jazz listened to everything else while on a leash, she tended to ignore the leash holder, ie me. I therefore had to learn to be more aware of my surroundings so I could anticipate when she might decide to try and take mama for a drag. By the time spring arrived, I was better at spotting squirrels than she was and saw several that she never even knew were there. On my solo walks I'd already nurtured my love for observing nature as I stopped to watch birds, peer into streams and try to figure out what all the different trees were. Walking Jazz made me that much more perceptive of things and every walk I see something new. Tonight was a bit humid but the air had cooled so Jazz and I headed out on one of our shorter walks which totals about a mile. There is no such thing as a flat road anywhere near me so whatever direction we go involves walking hills. It's good for both of us and has blessed us with lovely legs and hindquarters. On the walk out I saw a family of bluebirds flitting around on the power lines. They studied me intently as I walked beneath them and I stopped to look up at them and appreciate their pretty blue wings, white bellies and the touch of orange on their breasts. I always find it amusing to think of the phrase "bluebird of happiness" because most of the bluebirds I've seen look kind of grumpy. I don't think they are actually grumpy, they're just very watchful. There were also lots of young finches and sparrows flying about and chirping nervously as their parents showed them how to find food. Further down the road I saw a couple monarch butterflies gliding lazily from leaf to leaf trying to decide where to rest. I longed for a breeze to keep the biting flies and mosquitoes at bay but the air stirred very little and after a family of three deer, a mama and two babies, crossed the road in front of us I decided to head back. I think Jazz believes she's a deer because whenever she sees them she wants to run off with them. Mama don't run with deer. I was almost back to the road I live on when I noticed some odd looking red leaves on the road. They were small and curled in such a peculiar manner they almost resembled some small creatures. Upon further inspection, I realized they weren't leaves at all, they were indeed creatures, orange lizards of some kind. I'd never seen any sort of lizard in my area before and I've lived in this region of the state for 10 years. I touched one of them gently with my fingertip because he was so small and he remained frozen in position with his little claws stuck to the pavement. I really didn't think near the edge of the road was the safest place for the first pair I found so I picked them gently up by their tails and placed them in the grass. Another 20 feet down the road I saw an even smaller lizard so I carefully relocated him too. From that point on I watched where I was walking but I didn't see any other little creatures in need of a helpful nudge out of danger. As the weather cools again Jazz and I will go on more walks and I'm eager to enjoy the sight of the leaves changing colors. I love autumn and if I could just skip winter altogether, life would be much warmer. I look forward to whatever Jazz and I discover and I'm certain my perception of the world around me will continue to bring enlightenment and joy. I was texting my best friend yesterday evening and I jokingly told her that I should write a self-help book entitled "Don't Cry with Makeup On." It really is good advice actually. The reason I recommended removing your makeup before crying is not because I'm concerned your mascara will run or your blush will streak, but because it hurts! It hurts crying with makeup on because the stuff gets in your damp eyes and burns! I've made the mistake of crying after I applied anti-wrinkle cream more than once and that pain is even worse! Alpha hydroxy and tear ducts do not get along. I do understand that fits of crying do not always wait until one is safely home and free of the day's makeup but if you can make it home after a rough day and know the tears are coming, whip out the makeup remover towelettes and take that important first step. Wait to apply anti-aging cream until after...if you can even still see where your eyes were. I am not implying that only women cry, I know men cry even if they won't admit it. Do I think everyone cries as much as I do? Certainly not. Do I think there's something wrong with me because I cry as much as I do? Heck no! I held a majority of my emotions inside for most of my life, especially the negative ones. I had no problem expressing joy, amusement, excitement but sadness, forget it. I knew once I let that dam break it would never be whole again and I feared the weak, worthless creature I'd become. Here's the kicker though, it isn't weak to cry; it's called being human. If we weren't meant to feel then we wouldn't have been blessed with emotions. Yes, I said blessed. Me, the woman who now cries at the drop of a hat so well she could star in an overly dramatic soap opera, believes that emotions are a blessing. Do not misconstrue what I'm saying and think that I'm sad all the time because I'm not. I have accepted though that there are certain things that I can't think about without crying. My father's death, my mother still without a man who loves her, my oldest daughter's sensitivity, my youngest daughter's developmental delays, my friends' pain, my myriad of creatively broken hearts, my constantly misbehaving car...these things make me cry. I don't cry because I've given up hope, I will never do that, I cry because I feel. Feeling is good and don't let anyone tell you otherwise! There may be times in your life when you have to store away emotions until they can be tackled at a time you have more strength and that's fine. Just remember to tackle them first or they will overcome you. None of us can really master our emotions completely, it's like trying to tame a wild animal. That wild animal might be sweet and cute as a domestic pet until one day their instinct takes over and they remember the wildness in their blood that enabled them to survive and evolve. Never forget that we humans are animals too and we are constantly evolving and if we do it right, we evolve into better versions of ourselves. A good cry really can do wonders and if you have a shoulder to cry on, that's even better. I have friends who are there in spirit offering their shoulder and that is a great thing. I also have my lovable pup Jazzmin who is always at my side when I cry and she never minds if I get her fur all wet as I hug her. She will also lift her paw for a friendly shake as if to say "I understand, Mama, now give me some paw" and that always makes me smile and laugh. Having a friend, lover or pet who can make you laugh amid your tears is a huge bonus. Laughter is an expression of joy and it is just as vital as expressing sadness. Do not wallow in your sadness, that is not its purpose of being. Sadness is a cleansing emotion and expressing and releasing it facilitates the arrival of more light and energy into your spirit and your life. The sun always breaks through the storm eventually and when your tears dry (and the puffiness of your eyes diminishes) you will finally be able to clearly see the beauty of the sky above and accept all the gifts bestowed upon you. This coming Saturday, August 25, 2012 will be the one year anniversary of me buying my own house. Not bad for a girl who never thought she would see her name solo on the deed to a property. You see, I got married at 21 years old and I thought I'd already achieved the fairy tale and that I was set for life. I was wrong about that. That fairy tale was not what I thought it was but as I'm a writer, I figured out how to rewrite my own happily ever after. I learned that there isn't just one "happily ever after" but several and they never end. Not unless you want them to. Last April I moved out of the house in the country that I'd picked out and lived in for 9 years and into a much smaller apartment. I never realized how much stuff I'd accumulated over the years until I went to move it all. Thankfully, my new apartment had a garage and a full basement, otherwise I don't know where I would have put all of my belongings. Moving from a two story house with 1800 square feet, an open floor plan, three bedrooms and one and a half baths into a two bedroom apartment with under 1000 square feet and a single bathroom was quite an adjustment. But it was an adjustment I happily made because it meant I was free. Free of being told what to do, free of being belittled and mocked, free of obeying rules I had no part in setting up. I would have lived in a box under a bridge by that point to achieve my freedom. I don't think my daughters would have gone along with that idea though. I moved a majority of my boxes of stuff on my own via several full loads in my trusty Explorer. My apartment was less than 10 minutes from my old house and some nights I'd take 2-3 trips back and forth as I prepared to finally escape. I wanted to be fully moved out by the time the separation papers were signed and I pretty much was. I was essentially starting over so I also had to purchase and assemble most of my furnishings. Did you know that you can buy a non-futon couch in a box? Well now you do. My friend and I assembled my little couch and as I know all the parts involved in it, I am certain of its stability. I got really good at assembling storage cabinets and bookshelves too and could probably still do that in my sleep. I was literally exhausted for the first month after moving into my apartment. Problem was, I was also suffering from insomnia. I'd just made the biggest transition of my life to that point and my mind was on overdrive as it filled with worry and uncertainty. This was not the life I'd imagined for myself and my daughters, what if I screwed it up? My first night alone in the apartment without the girls was extremely hard. I remember crying on my kitchen floor with my two lovable cats rubbing up against me thinking their mama was going to suffocate if she didn't breathe at some point. I can still feel that cold tile floor pressing into my skin as I write this and feel that ache in my heart. Being unable to see my girls every day and night has grown easier but as I was a stay at home mom and they were my entire world for 9 years, it will never be completely acceptable to not have them with me. So I lived in that apartment and it was nice enough but it drove me nuts having to share walls with people. My old house had over 3 acres of property and the apartments shared a small yard area which did not compare at all. I quickly began to feel like I would suffocate if I had to live there forever. I'd been looking for a house since before I moved out but my realtor and I hadn't had any luck. Living in that apartment made me realize that I could do just fine in smaller square footage than my old house, just as long as I had some space to breathe! That realization proved very useful as it helped me re-examine what I needed in a house. Two bedrooms was insufficient because the girls sharing a room meant they stayed up giggling until way past their bedtime so I knew I needed three bedrooms. Sharing a single bathroom was tricky with three females but we managed so that was fine. As long as my future house had a basement or garage for storage, I'd be set. There had been a home for sale for as long as I'd been looking but I kept dismissing it because it had under 1000 square feet. I decided to look at it closer and when I saw that it was on 1.4 acres, I concluded that the spacious outside would make up for the smaller inside. The people had moved out months ago and it was move-in ready. Several families of mice had in fact, already moved in as my cats later discovered. I looked through it with my realtor and I fell in love with the spacious yard, flat driveway (a truly rare gem in the hills where I live) large side deck, recently redone kitchen and blue paneling in the living room. Blue is my favorite color and I'd never seen blue paneling before so I was hooked. Two of the bedrooms were good sized with the third one being somewhat small but I knew my youngest would be more than happy just to have her own room. My mind made up, I put in an offer and the sellers accepted. I was thrilled! The idea of moving again five months after moving into my apartment was not exactly exciting but I knew I could do it. Between putting in my offer and finally closing, I think I gave the bank everything except a DNA sample. It was all worth it though. My name alone was on the deed, my divorce was final and everything I did with my house was completely up to me. Just typing the words "my house" is an empowering thing! Being a homeowner has certainly come with its own unique and surprising challenges. I've met them all and figured it out and I will continue to do so. I love my little house and I've made it my home but I have also learned that it is just another "happily ever after" on the road to many more. There is far more to my future than being a woman living alone in the middle of nowhere country and I look forward to all my future destinations and the adventures that await me. I wonder what it is like to be "that woman."
The woman who walks in the room and demands everyone’s attention. The woman with the dark eyes, full of mystery and magic that draw in both men and women, and makes them yearn to know the secrets hidden within. The woman with the cascading raven hair that evokes ballads from minstrels and sonnets from poets. The woman who leaves a nearly physical spirit behind with anyone who has ever been fortunate enough to touch her. The woman whose vision lingers in dreams and whose voice echoes softly amidst whispers. The woman with fingers tender enough to caress the most delicate of mists and nails hard enough to pierce the harshest of stones. The woman whose influence is remembered when her existence has long faded. The woman men rally to defend though she possesses her own strength for battle. The woman who runs drenched amidst a thunderstorm to challenge the lightning with her fists. The woman whose passion is not seen with eyes but perceived by souls. The woman whose laughter can illuminate the darkest of days if only in a memory. The woman who can carry the heaviest and saddest of hearts upon her shoulders without a single faltering step. The woman who lingers on the edge of darkness while clinging to the shadows of moonlight. The woman who cherishes the girl of her past while knowing that she is intertwined with the goddess of her future. That woman within and without me. |
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