A Short Story

She stood at the door with great trepidation, hesitating to raise her hand and knock. Somewhere between the slam of her car door and the walk up the front steps to the man waiting inside, she had lost her composure. She had the entire conversation planned out in her mind, but now faced with the reality of what was about to happen, everything she had so meticulously outlined was forgotten. The closer she got to the door, the more her hands began to shake. Her stomach was in knots and her knees went weak. How was she supposed to explain to him that their lives were about to take a turn that neither of them had planned on? It had taken her two days to muster the courage to face him and if she followed her instincts and turned around, she knew she would never have the strength to say what needed to be said and to do what needed to be done.

Steeling herself against her own apprehension, she knocked boldly on the front door. It may have been easier to use the key that he had given her, but she wanted to be formal and she had not spoken to him since she received the news two days ago. He had called and texted and e-mailed her incessantly for the last forty eight hours. She heard the news herself at 2:06 P.M. on Monday afternoon and now it was almost exactly two days later to the tee. While she waiting for him to come to the door, she could smell the fresh cut lawn. She felt the sun beating down and the breeze cooling the sweat that began beading on her skin as much from her frayed nerves as from the heat of the afternoon.

Just before he opened the door, a surprising calm came over her. Suddenly she knew the exact words to use. The right tone to take. As he opened the door and came into full view, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. While they stood there, drinking each other in, it occurred to her that two days was the longest that they had gone without seeing each other in some capacity for the last year. Here was the man that she had come to love without hesitation or reservation. His posture was regal, his shoulders pulled back in juxtaposition to the faded jeans he was wearing and his bare feet. There was just something about the combination of his formal bearing and casual nature that had appealed to her from the first.

Without saying a word, he lifted one eyebrow quizzically and gestured her inside and out of the heat. She let the coolness of the foyer wash over her as she looked around the room. Nothing had changed here, but everything had changed for them. This time, there was no looking back. They both had an important decision to make. In a relationship that they had both entered wounded and scared, time and love had seen enormous growth in both of them individually and as a couple. They had learned so much from one another and had grown so close that it was sometimes difficult for their friends and family to see them as anything other than the unit that they had created together.

The two of them had resisted enormous pressure from both of their families to make their union more formal. Neither had a strong desire to enter into a legally binding contract when their hearts were already married. For the last two years, that had worked out well for both of them. While she had practically lived with him for the majority of those two years, she had still kept a separate apartment. It was her security blanket against pain. A safe haven where she could run to if things got a little hairy, which they had. Especially in the beginning. It had caused a lot of arguments between them in an otherwise non-contentious and loving union. At first, he insisted that she give up her place and move in with him. She dug in her heels and refused, citing that she wanted to be certain of their complete partnership before making such a huge move. He had finally given up many months before and resigned himself to her stubborn nature. He figured that she would make the move when she was ready.

Without saying a word, he reached out and took her hand and lifted it to his lips. She could see the worry and concern in his eyes. While she usually went back to her place when he was away, or to check her mail, she was never far from reach and they spoke on the phone several times a day if they were apart, so his concern was not without merit. As they walked into the living room, her heart skipped a beat. After the kitchen, this was the core of their home together. Ownership of the home meant little to either of them when anyone could look around and see that they were present in every corner of the house. They had picked out and redesigned each and every room together, laughing as they argued over paint colors and fabric samples. They purchased several pieces of artwork together as well as the bargain buys they had found at estate sales and discount stores. It was an eclectic mix that reflected who they were as a couple and they were justifiably proud of what they had built together.

As they sat down on the sectional couch that they had spent months searching for until they decided to design one themselves, her hands once again began to tremble and she could now see fear replace the concern in his eyes. She started to speak, but faltered before she could get any sound to come out of her mouth. As she began to tremble he pulled her into his arms and held her as she sobbed. Her heart was breaking for what she had to do. There was no way that she could keep this from him, even though it might destroy him, but the words still wouldn't come.

As her crying subsisted and with his arms still around her, she found a tranquility that would prove to serve her well in the months ahead. She eased back from him and wordlessly held out a piece of paper. She just couldn't tell him herself.

She watched him as his eyes widened and filled with tears. He looked at her for reassurance, but found none. In an instant, their dreams and plans had gone out the window, but not their love for one another. Never that. She hadn't doubted that he would still love her, but she hurt for him and all that she would leave behind. She watched him pull his eyes back down to the paper as he reread the words that would be her death sentence. She already knew what it said as she had read it herself over and over again in the last two days. She argued with the doctors initially and then railed against fate. She prayed to the God of her childhood and finally made peace with herself and the illness that would end her life in a few short months.

Inoperable brain tumor was what the diagnosis had been. The doctors that she had seen were top notch. No one would have suspected that the mild headaches that had been plaguing her for months would turn into something so life altering. Since she hadn't known how to break the news to him, she had shut herself off from the world for a while until she was confident to face it again on her own terms. She had lived her life her way and she would pass out of this world her way.

Once again he reached for her. He reassured her in his support and devotion. As the days flew by with increasing speed, her health deteriorated. She did not wish to die in a hospital bed, nor would she allow death to take away her last moments of life. Instead, she played for as long as her body would let her. He was there with her the entire time, holding her up when she faltered. He supported her and stood by her side as they broke the news to their family and loved ones together. He was always there with her, even as her energy waned and she was forced into bed rest. There was a hospice nurse who came every day in the end, to watch her and give her the medication that she desperately needed to ease the pain. But he never left her side and he slept in the bed they had set up in his first floor office for her comfort and ease every night.

The last night of her life, they laid in the tiny bed listening to the beeps and hums of the machines. She had lost her ability to speak, but they didn't need words. They never had. He held her tight and lightly touched her hair with his fingertips. And as she took her last breath, he could swear that he felt her presence in the room.

The next few days were hell, spent making sure that her final wishes were followed through with. She was buried in her family cemetery next to a sister that had passed away during their youth. As the final mourners made their was through the rain and back to their cars, he stood staring at the casket in the ground. He knew that her spirit was no longer there. She had come to him in a dream the night before exacting from him the promise that he would celebrate her life and if he had to mourn her death, that he did so for as short a time as possible. As the clouds opened and the rain poured down, he felt it only fitting that the heavens weeped. Not at the loss of her body, but for thankfulness in the gaining of another angel.

He took one last look at the hole in the ground. Finally, he picked up a black-eyed susan, her favorite flower and the flower of their home state, kissed it and tossed it on the top of the casket. She had shown him love and laughter and shared all the joys of life with him. He didn't know what he would do now that she was gone, but he knew that no one could ever take the place in his heart that would forever belong to her.

Retail Therapy

I was taught at an early age that any time your life is disrupted, you go shopping. Not just shopping, but SHOPPING, all caps, all the time. Shopping for shoes, clothes, sales, junk, whatever. When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping.

This I learned from my grandmother, who was a huge influence on my life. Probably the greatest influence on my life. Her best friend's name was Mall. Mall was short for Lillian. Well, maybe not short for Lillian, but instead of Lillian. You see, Mall and my Nana were shopping buddies. They had their routine down pat. Off to Hagerstown, Maryland to while away time and the Montgomery Wards and Sears and I think there was a JC Penney there too, but that was a long time ago and my memories aren't what they used to be. Then they would get pizza, again in the mall.

Anyway, enough background information. To make a long story short, I learned at the feet of the master shopper. How to find deals. How to love shoes, especially high heels. How to use shopping to forget about your troubles for a while.

Today, I have learned that while a fun past time, shopping should not be a form of therapy. For many reasons. One, it can get you into debt. Two, the problems don't go away, they just hide for a while. Three, once the problems you were running away from come back, you just go shopping again which leads us right back to reason #1.

I love to shop. I love to bargain hunt. I love good clothes and even better shoes. But for myself, I am on a shopping moratorium.

At the beginning of the year, I created a self-imposed shopping hiatus that is to last until 2011. At first it was just shoes. Now I have added all non-necessity items to that list. I have had a serious decrease in cash flow lately and I really do own all of the shoes that I need at the moment. In fact, I am going to clean out my garage shoe storage area and give away anything that I have not worn in the last two years. Same thing goes for my clothing.

I am doing too fucking well at this asstarded shopping abstinence. I have NOT bought a single pair of shoes this entire year and it's almost May. How can that be? I NEVER stick with anything and yet this one thing that brings me so much joy, I have cut out of my life completely. Go figure. And I can't really just try shoes on because that is like putting a fat person in a candy shop just to smell the chocolate, or taking an alcoholic on a tour of the Jack Daniels plant. Nooooooooooooo!!!!! I went cold turkey. Just like that. And now, all of the beautiful, shiny, sequined, strappy, stiletto, platform, wedged, glorious sexual objects for the feet are out of my grasp.

I know that I can do this damn thing. I just have to stay out of every single store that I love so much. Like Macy's and Dillard's and BCBG and BeBe and.... well you get the point. And I am doing well with the clothing too. For one, I am not working, so the costume du jour is almost always drawstring sweats and a T-shirt and maybe a hoodie on cold days. The few times I have to get dressed in something that I shouldn't be cleaning in, I wear jeans. That's not to say that I haven't bought clothing or shoes. Or maybe I should say one pair of shoes. I had to, as a necessity, purchase a new pair of tennis shoes. And I have picked up a couple of pairs of yoga pants and t-shirts since March when I added clothing to the mix. But all of those items were needed and I don't count socks and underwear and bras in any category as I don't need my undergarments to look like mice have been chewing on them

Other than that, I have stuck to my plan.

Hopefully I can buckle down and apply this attitude to other areas of my life.

Cheers to not falling off of the wagon. Because we all know that if I do, it will be the shopping spree heard 'round the world. The stock market will go up, there will be small, overworked children in third world countries with bleeding fingers and department stores in my town will weep at the extravaganza.

Hopefully, I can just dream about it at night at let the memories get me through the day. Until then, I can just picture my Nana and Mall, in heaven, weeping with the angels over my strict self-control. Not understanding how I can resist the might siren's call of that phenomenon we call Retail Therapy.

Love, Peace and Chicken Grease.

I Just Might Still Be Funny

So Saturday night was the bachelorette party for one of my oldest and dearest friends. She is getting married in a few weeks and I am in the wedding. I am very excited for her.

However, I was worried about the party because I am not 100% there physically and most likely won't be for the next several months. I didn't want to detract from her day in any way, but I thought that I should show up to support her.

The plan was to go to dinner with a small group and then go home and meet the entire party back at her house an hour before they were set to leave and then follow them to their first location so that I would have my car since I wasn't planning on staying out the entire night. I have to take my medication at specific times and I needed to be home, so going with the entire group was not an option for me.

Still, I worried that the woman that my friend had known for the last twelve years would no longer be there. In her place, would be someone else. Someone who has changed remarkably over the last two years and even more so over the last two months. I felt like I would have nothing to contribute to the party.

Not so.

I had them laughing in hysterics at the dinner table that night. Somehow, I was able to reach deep into myself for the ability to be humorous once more. I had some pretty remarkable one-liners and some funny stories. I might not be the life of the party, but I was still fun. Stone cold sober. I can't drink on my medication and I don't have the desire to, even if I had the ability. I want a new and different life for myself and I am working hard to forge my way ahead and become the person that I want to be, with all of the good parts of the old person thrown in.

They say that you can't teach an old dog new tricks. To those people I say "shut the fuck up and mind your own damn business." I am not old, I am not a dog and I don't do tricks. What I am doing is trying to remodel myself into a better person. Not that I was a bad person to begin with, but there is much room for improvement and that is my aim. I no longer strive to be superwoman. I have much more simple goals. To be a good parent, to be a good daughter/sister/etc. and to be a good friend. I think that once I tidy that part of my life up, the rest will start rolling into place.

I am still the same person, just improved. Better, faster, stronger. Okay, maybe I am not all of those things yet, but I will be. Sometime in the future I will be.

I am still getting my ass kicked on a daily basis. The side effects of this medication are increasing, but I try to keep a positive outlook. Things could always be worse and the point of what I am doing is to be healthier. I am trying every day to be positive and see that silver lining that seems so obscured to me. But still I cannot do this without assistance. I have friends and family, loved ones, who are helping me through. Even when I try to shut them out, the come crashing through my walls to help. I don't even have to ask for it. They pick me up when I start falling. They reassure me when I have doubts. They take my negativity and shoot rainbows back at me. Their unfailing belief in me keeps me going and makes me believe in myself and my own strength.

I am still working through all of this, but I am taking it one day at a time. Which is the only way that I can do what I need to do and still have a productive, happy life.

But I'm still funny. So yay!

To Sarah

I have known you since you were a teenager and I was a mere twenty years old. How quickly time passes as it's now twelve years later. We have both had children since then. We have had relationships and tears, smiles and laughter, heartbreak and successes.

I met you at a "fitness" class that we were both taking for an easy credit and an easy A. Little did we know that the instructor was a hard ass and that she would be riding everyone until the end of the semester. When the final came around, and yes there was a fucking written final for a dumb ass strength and flexibility class, we cheated off of each other.

Then came dancing, a shared passion. You taught me how to do most of them. We learned hip-hop in your tiny apartment one floor below mine. It was the three amigos on one, two and three, but you and I most of all.

We went dancing once or twice a week. Learning the two-step and the waltz, the cha-cha and the chadish. Before we left, we would get ready together most of the time in one of our tiny bathrooms with curling irons and hairspray and makeup scattered all over the place.

You were my support when things started to slide south in my life. You gave me encouragement and strength and the insight that, yes what I was doing was difficult and painful, but in the end I had made the right decision for everyone involved.

Throughout the years, we have spent time together and time apart due to circumstance and trials. But whether we were eating bad pizza from Rini-Rego's and watching Jeff Foxworthy on my VCR or playing softball together, we always had fun.

Picnics and birthdays and cards and crazy times and quiet times were all a part of our friendship. You are a sister of the heart and one of my favorite people on the planet. I can always count on you to be there for me whenever I need you, even if I don't have the courage to ask for help. And you know that I will be there for you whenever you need me, whether you want me to be there or not.

Congratulations on making this new change in your life. I am proud of the way you have matured over the years and how you handle yourself with dignity and grace. I will be there on that day in May, standing up for someone that I love with all of my heart. You don't need my blessing or my input. You need my support and my love and I hope, that on your special day, that you can feel both radiating from me as we share in such a joyous occasion.

I love you.

ADW

Happy Birthday Baby

My little bear is six today.

I love him so.

That is all.

Hooters Reunion Part 2 - With Pictures

How much fun was last Friday night? It's been so long (too long) since I have gone out with friends.

Even though Ihad to leave early in the night - since I take medicine and all - and even though I had about a half a glass of sangria, I had an absolute blast.

I you are ever in Cleveland, you have to go to Mallorca. It is the best restaurant in town and the service there is impeccable. Of course, no one sitting anywhere close to us enjoyed their dinner since we were absolutely obnoxious. In fact, KY decided to yell out "Fuck yeah I like to party" at the top of her lungs. And some old fossil had to be manhandled onto his transport back to the hotel he and his wife were staying at AFTER telling his wife "I don't wanna go".

And then there was the BIG HAIR. All caps. HUGE HAIR. KY and I both go to the blog renowned Man Ho Cho and he has a saying... well actually I gave him the saying, but it's "the higher the hair, the closer to God." And by all that is holy, he takes it seriously. He actually told me after he did my hair "I rearry outdid mysef dis time."

KY and I were the first to arrive, so when we walked in she told the host, "BIG HAIR, party of ten." I almost peed my pants and that was just the start to the evening.

All told, eight ladies showed up which was a great turn out. One of our girlfriends from Minnesota was in town and I had not seen her for almost three years, so it was a real treat.

I, of course, had to go home early along with two other ladies. I can't stay out late with the medication I am on and I get very tired, very easily. I was soooo sad to go, but c'est la vie.

It was a great time and I can't wait to do it again soon.

Oh... and here are some pictures.

Me with BIG HAIR and my very sparkly dress.

Me and KY

Me and BBS

Three Hot Mommas

Girlfriends

"Unh Unh, We Closed"

"I hate grape pop, It tastes like med-di-sun"

"Oh my God! You found my purse. I have 18,000 dollars in there."

"Frito Bandito"

"Browns' Sunday"

"I love KY's Flower" (in mustard)

Turtle Face

Collective Soul

Vanilla Ice

Sonny Ledford and an accidental Vicodin incident

Good times ladies. Good times.

Hooters Reunion Part 1

So.....

It's been 10 years since I started working at Hooters and almost 7 since the place closed down. When that happened, there were a lot of girls out of a job. I am sure that most of us thought that we would go our own way, but we many of us were surprised that we never did.

After that sad, sad day, many of us began working at a new place, in a new location with a new owner. In fact, the place was so new that it wasn't even open at the time the old place closed down. But it was up and running a few weeks later and so were we.

Most of us decided to do other things at new places. But through it all, a core group survived. At first we saw each other quite a bit. Either by working together, or meeting up now and then to reminisce or have a few drinks. We would see each other at weddings and baby showers.

Some of us moved away. To Minnesota and Chicago and South Carolina and other places unknown.

But today? Today a big group of us gets back together. We are going to meet tonight and a very nice place where last the largest group of us dined. We will eat and drink and switch seats and laugh and tell stories about things that happened in that golden time. Before we grew up. Before we really started understanding life.

So much has changed. Marriages and divorces. Babies and break-ups. College Degrees, new jobs, new cities, new friends. But the core of it all? Underneath everything? Is a sisterhood that will never diminish with time.

And my hope is that we will do this more often. And that over the years, as our faces line with wrinkles or spread out with Botox, as we have more babies and learn more about life, that the love and affection that we feel for one another stays true and strong.

We might not be together all at once. We may never have this opportunity again. But what we will have are all of our memories and hopefully all of our mammaries.

I love you girls and I can't wait to see you all tonight.

Bring it hard and bring it sexy.

Love, Peace and Chicken Grease.

Thinking

Damn it all. I need to stop thinking so much and start writing. I am the world's greatest procrastinator and what I really need is someone to kick my ass and tell me to buck up and get going.

Instead, I think. I get ideas in the middle of the night that I never write down. I worry about things that haven't happened yet and will never happen unless I buckle down and start doing it.

Thinking sucks me in, because before I know it, hours have elapsed and I have gotten absolutely nowhere. I can blame the medical stuff or I can blame personal issues or I can blame being a busy mother. I CAN blame any number of things, but I won't because I am to blame.

At the end of the day, I am a chickenshit. I am too scared of rejection and too lazy to do something that I really, really want to do. The ultimate dream. And now? I am wavering. All I really want to do is go back to bed. What I should do is buckle down and write. What I probably will do is laundry.

I hate people like me today. Vacillating. Opting out. Being scared.

I need to remember to breath. And to remember that it's OK to be scared. I have been told in no uncertain terms that I have to stop trying to be perfect. Not that I think I am perfect, but that I try too hard to BE perfect. So I will wallow if I want to and if inspiration strikes, I just may get that little nudge that I need.

Love, Peace and Chicken Grease.

Mandarin Diarrhea Episode 1

Ha ha freaking ha.

I can't wait to see what google searches bring this post up.

But I digress. Because? There really is a point to this post. And that is Meatloaf, Mandarin Oranges and copious quantities of diarrhea.

To wit. I was at a friend's house last night and I decided that since I have been really tired from medication, etc, that it would be better just to hang out and chill instead of going to dinner and a movie or whatnot. So I decided to make meatloaf. Not just any meatloaf, but my famous (in my head only) meatloaf.

My meatloaf is kind of like grape meatballs (if you have never had them, google it and make them because they are the equivalent of angel appetizers) in that the ingredients sound completely disgusting, but the end result in scrum-diddley-umptious. You take about 3 pounds of ground beef and infuse it with soy sauce and other secret things and then you mix up some brown sugar, more soy sauce and mandarin oranges and pour the whole thing over the top.

After baking for about an hour, you proceed to the consumption of the loaf.

HOWEVER. Three pounds of meatloaf between two people should result in at least 2 plus pounds being left over. Unless you are complete and utter piggies and you decide to ingest over two pounds of it in one sitting. All I will say is that one person had about a half a pound and the other probably porked down at least the other pound and a half.

The results? Ensuing hilarity.

Stomach Aches

Gaseous Explosions

Crop Dusting

Buddha Bellies

Moans of pain

Utterances of agony

And the best part of all is that I, as in moi, had my ass explode. Literally. My stomach started gurgling anew about 30 minutes after my meal and I felt like I had to fart. But I was afraid to fart because my Early Warning Sharting System (EWSS) pinged me to let me know that there was a good chance that I would shit myself. So I hied my tightly clenched ass cheeks to the nearest crapatorium and wriggled out of my pants as quickly as possible. People, I took my pants completely off and set them aside on the off chance that there was splatter and my pants would be a casualty and thusly be stained with foul liquid. But, the law of the fear of shitting yourself kicked in and I sat on the throne for 10 minutes before I felt another gluteal ping. It was then that I expended a fart that could rattle the bowels of hell itself and send the devil shaking under his bed. And after all that, there was very little poo. Just enough to hurt my very sensitive anal area, but not enough to do any real damage.

So? Crisis averted.

Not so much.

After I got my the pins and needles out of my legs it wasn't but another half an hour before the rumbly in my tumbly sent me back to John T Crapper. Then the magic happened. By the end of my experience, I had completely covered the toilet in what one can only describe as a coating of brown acid rain. My legs AND my arms went to sleep from all of the clenching. There were points where the need for a fire department and/or ambulance was discussed and dismissed, but it was a near thing.

All I could do afterwards was pray to God that I had expelled everything from my esophagus to my anus. It was the equivalent of a self-induced colonoscopy except there was no lube and afterwards, I had to climb in the sink and hose my rectum out with the sprayer set to jet stream.

Did I mention that it was the KITCHEN sink?

So? The moral of this story is that my meatloaf is excellent. In portioned amounts. But when someone with a highly sensitive stomach ingests about 4 times her body weight in beef, bad things..... very, very bad things might happen.

I still feel dirty.

And I think I owe my friend a new toilet.

The end.

Looking at Myself

Yesterday, I was forced to take a long, hard look at myself. To see myself the way that other people might see me and let's just say that I didn't like what I saw.

I have spent the last few months closing myself off from the world. In an attempt to avoid getting hurt by others, I have in fact hurt people who care about me. By building walls around my heart, I not only protected myself from getting hurt, but I have hurt myself by not letting other people in. I have not only been unable, or unwilling to reach out to friends and loved ones, but I have pushed them away. I have ignored phone calls and e-mails and not returned any attempts to contact me unless I had no other choice.

God what a selfish bitch I am. I have been so caught up in my own life that I have become less of the person I thought I was and more like a person I NEVER want to be, ever. I have been self-indulgent and I have boo-hooed and moped around like I am the only person to ever have had bad things happen to me. Instead of getting back to the person I should be, I have become a sad shell of my former self.

This is not to say that there haven't been reasons for my recent behavior. I am going through a lot right now and some of this has been caused by the medication and the sadness that comes from feeling like my 32-year old body has somehow betrayed me. I think if all of my doctors did a test, they would find that I am more like a sexagenarian than someone in the prime of their life and that has made me sad. (I did however fit sex into this paragraph, so perhaps all is not lost.)

But now I say nay, nay. No more. It is still within my reach to be me. To be a better friend and sister and daughter and especially, a better mother. I have help. I have friends. I have people who want to help take care of me if only I would let them. I am sick of being afraid of getting hurt and burned. SEE: ex-egg donor, ex-men, ex-friends, etc.

This is not to say that I am going to let people use me. My dad has this famous saying - "you deserve what you tolerate." So while I refuse to tolerate, or have in my life, people who don't care for me, I also have a responsibility to care for the good people that I do have and to show them how much I love them in return.

By opening up your heart, you risk getting hurt. But by not opening up your heart, you will never truly feel anything.

Someone very special to me sent this quote a while back and I was at first offended. Why? Because it was forcing me to look at myself in a light that I didn't want to see. But now, I understand it. I get it. And I certainly don't want a heart that is irredeemable.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.” C.S.Lewis

Fight for This Love

I just can't get enough of this song.

It's been in my head and my heart for weeks now.

It makes me sad that people just give up. They give up hope and they give up on each other. It's easier to give up than it is to stand your ground and fight for what you believe in. It's easier to pretend in your head that the past never existed or that you were a different person when you play the scenes backwards in your head. It's easier to run from yourself and everyone you ever cared about and lie and hurt than it is to be a good person and take responsibilities for your actions.

I wish we could all live in that world. But instead, most of us live in this world. The one where you are supposed to honor your promises and stand by someone's side instead of sucking up everything that they have to give - like a leech - and giving nothing real and true of yourself in return.

If you think this post is about you, it probably isn't. The person that this post was specifically aimed at is long gone out of my life and wouldn't know how to be a better person if it hit them in the face with brass knuckles. It is just amazing that time doesn't heal all wounds. Some of them are just beneath the surface.

Of course a little bit of this post could be about you. Because it is targeted at the loss of a friendship. And Lord knows I have had enough shit people in my life that I have mistaken for being true friends, when they were only friends of convenience.

And I don't care if no one likes this song. I do. And it makes me feel better and worse at the same time. So suck it.

Broken

I am broken now

Only time will tell

What it takes to ease this soul

Your company

Such misery

No sympathy

The road that leads to perfidy

My eyes close

I view the abyss

The spiral staircase ends in mist

No sight

No sound

Just emptiness

Charon waits

Afloat on the River Styx

Do I turn to him

Embrace the nothingness

To ease the troubled suffering

Or do I trade my shields in

For stronger Mail

And protect anew

My every cell

I am broken now

Only time will tell

Spring Cleaning

To be done in bullet points, because I love them so.....

• Get rid of as much negativity in my life as possible. People who hurt you and constantly bring you down are not good for your soul.
• Organize my clothing and shoes. My goal is to delete at least half of both my wardrobe AND my shoe collection. Shock and Awe people, SHOCK AND AWE.
• Focus on my health. Both physical and mental.
• Physical Health - I have recently started a new regimen of medication for a disorder that I have and it is kind of kicking my ass. But I have accepted that this is something that there is no cure for and that I have to buckle down and do something about it now before it gets out of hand.
• Mental Health - I started seeing a new therapist recently. She is half Jewish and half Catholic and knows all about guilt. I like her sense of humor and raspy voice.
• More Physical Health - I am in love with Yoga. I am making a concerted effort to take three classes a week for the next two months. This will help me in so many ways and my doctors have all said that it is something that is both safe and beneficial for me to do.
• Go see my family in the next two months. I haven't seen them since last summer and I feel like I need their support more than ever now.
• Get better. Be better. A better mother, a better friend, a better writer, a better member of the human race.
• Work....... - work is difficult to say the least. I will be taking a short leave of absence from my job due to the medication that I am on, but I hope that when I get back to fighting shape that I will be better than ever.
• Focus on family. My children are the two most important people in my life and they always will be. My priority is that they are both happy, well-adjusted children who wake up every day knowing how much I love and cherish them.
• Find Inner Strength and Peace - not an easy task. Like Ru Paul says "If you can't love yourself, how in the hell are you going to love anybody else? Can I get an amen?" Love her!!!!
• Remember who I am and who I want to be - those two things are very difficult. I have changed and evolved so much over the last couple of years that I think my true self has fallen by the wayside. I remember the days of yore when I felt creative and funny and witty and sarcastic. Now I struggle to get through each day. It is difficult enough to be going through this medical thing alone, but because of the person I am now, I no longer have a strong support system behind me. I let people I care about drift out of my life and I have embraced my loneliness. I am more like a hermit now than the fun loving, carefree girl of the past. I want to get back some of myself.
• Have fun with life again - I realize now that I no longer need to prove myself to anyone but me. I think recognizing that and working through those issues in therapy will allow me to enjoy living once again without the ups and downs and drama that has plagued me.
• Learn to forgive - I will never forget the hurtful things that others have done to me, but I am working on forgiveness. I don't want to grow old and bitter.

I think that's enough for now. I will be lucky to get a few of these things checked off of my list. My heart, mind and soul are very heavy right now. I can't help but think about the past 30 plus years and wonder how it all went by so quickly and what will be in store for me in the future. It's so uncertain right now. The only truth I know is that my life needs to evolve into something more than it is right now. Even if that means getting dressed in more than track pants and tennis shoes. (Have I mentioned that lately I have taken to only wearing drawstring track pants and tennis shoes/flip flops and T-shirts for the last 3 weeks?) I have a dear, dear friend's wedding coming up soon and I need to at least get these roots seen to, don't I?

All of my love to you and yours.

The Other "F" Word

If anyone out there still reads this blog, then you know that I am not shy when it comes to the spewing forth of swear words. I bandy them about like condoms in a sex-ed class. In fact, I have even taught you all how to swear in multiple foreign languages and I have created some words that people still use on a daily basis.

That being said, there is something that I have never, ever done. Neither on this blog or in real life. What's that you ask? I know, it seems almost impossible, or at least highly improbably, that there is anything that I would think crosses the line, but even I have my limits and one of those limits is the use of slurs. I think that if you don't like someone, there are better ways of letting your dislike known. For example, I once called my neighbor a cum-guzzling twatmonger and I still stand by those words. Adam and I have insulted each other numerous times over the years and we LIKE one another. But I choose to be more creative with my insults. Instead of disparaging someone's race or creed or sexual orientation, I like to be a little more inventive and a lot less trite and tired with my insults.

Most of the time, when I do this, I mean no harm. There are others out there who do though and it seems that they have passed this little affliction down to their children.

The reason I am bringing this up is because while having dinner with my children this evening, my daughter was telling me about a boy that she has been having problems with in school all year. He has harassed her and bullied her, but she fights back and I am usually one to let kids be kids and not get involved unless something crosses the line.

I am seriously considering getting involved now.

Why?

Because the kid called my daughter the "F" word. No, not fucker or fuckhead or fucking bitch as I originally thought, but "faggot". Whether or not he knew better is irrelevant. At thirteen years old, there are things that you KNOW not to do. If she was black, I don't think he would have dared to call her the "N" word. But these kids throw words around without thinking about the consequences. At their age, labels and words hurt. It is difficult enough being a teenaged kid, but to have other children out there shooting off insults without thinking that they could be doing serious harm disturbs me.

And it isn't SD that I am worried about. She can take care of herself and while I won't say in detail what she did, I do believe that the boy will think very hard before he tries to insult her again in any way. I am proud of her for standing up for herself. It has nothing to do with sexual orientation and everything to do with being a better person. I have several people that I am very close to and whom have gotten me through extremely difficult times that I am PRIVILEGED to call my friends, who happen to be gay. It means nothing to me. I could care less if they were fucking eunuchs or leprechauns or had tails growing out of their ears. The only thing I care about is who they are as people.

Why oh why am I rambling on about this subject? Because it matters. Because there are people out there who are constantly being subjected to cruel and vicious statements and actions just because of who they are. And also? I am saddened by what I heard today. I don't want my children to be around ignorant and intolerant people, but there is no way to keep that from happening, so I try to teach them how to be good people.

And if they were to judge others, it would hopefully be on their woeful lack of fashion skills and ugly shoes as opposed to things that they themselves can not help.

But that's just me.

As for the rest, I think I am going to start by sending an e-mail to the school principal. I don't believe that these kids even realize how badly their words could hurt if said to the wrong person.

What do you think internet? Should I just let this go as an episode of kids being kids, or should I say something about it? I don't want to blow anything out of proportion, but it just doesn't seem right to me........

For K

I rolled over this morning and looked into a pair of shining brown eyes. His grin was infectious as we cuddled and all I could think about was how happy he makes me every day of my life.

We don't spend nearly as much time together as we used to now, but we try to make the most of the time we have. Some days we go out to dinner and a movie, some days we just hang out. We talk about all sorts of things, big and small. The past, the present and the future. Sometimes he gets mad at me and some days I get irritated, but every day I wake up and thank God for his presence in my life and the blessings that he has brought to me.

On bad days, when I feel like a total failure, he can cheer me up with a sunny smile or a silly joke.

He has a quick wit and great sense of humor. He also has a quick temper. He is sweet and funny and one of my favorite people in the whole wide world.

I know that one day he won't want to cuddle with me anymore. One day he will grow up and start spending more time with his friends than he does with me. One day he will go off to college. One day he might marry a girl who will never, ever be good enough for him. One day he might have children of his own. One day he might move far away from me and I will be heartbroken.

But every single day of his life, he will always be my son. I love him with every breath I take and I would do anything for him. He is a light in my life. He is my Little Bear and no matter how big he gets I will always see my sunny little boy.

The Doctor

I have to go to the doctor today.

I am thinking about canceling my appointment.

Doctors scare me and this one in particular scares me mightily.

I am afraid of what I might hear. I am also afraid of what I might not hear. It's unnerving to say the least.

I have been the biggest procrastinator my entire life and never more so than recently. I am stuck in a quagmire and I know I am sinking, but I just can't seem to find the reason to pull myself out of it anymore. The world keeps spinning on its axis and rotating around the sun, but I keep sinking lower and lower into the pit and the sun seems too far away to ever reach now.

I don't feel funny anymore. My inspiration comes from my dreams and they are not what I would deem pleasant. Not nightmares, but a hash reality of life vividly brought forth by my desperation and imagination. Where am I going? What am I doing? How will I get there? Do I even care anymore?

Sinking, sinking, sinking. Ever slowly down into the abyss.

Where are you when I need you? My inner self and most inspired and trusted confidant?

I don't even talk to myself anymore.

Goodbye Tennessee

She sat quietly, not moving in a room that was once filled with love. Laughter. Smiles. Happiness. Then a a random song came on the radio.... "God help me, keep me moving somehow. Don't let me start wishing I was with him now. I've made it this far without crying a single tear........."

The tears started rolling down her face leaving angry red welts in their path. She never could figure out how to cry pretty like all of the other girls.

That one song and with it the memory. Taking her back to Tennessee. Sitting on a rooftop, hearing that same song while the summer heat beat down on the tops of her thighs. Feeling like she could conquer the world. Not knowing that in a few months her world would stop. Shatter really. All of the dreams she had made, all of the plans for the future derailed completely like a freight train wreck.

She could see it in her head, the steam from the locomotive that just couldn't keep moving along the tracks hissing in the cold night air. The wheels kept trying to move, but there was nowhere left to go. The tracks were in a shambles, twisted pieces of metal littering the landscape. A great analogy of her life now. Off those carefully laid tracks and crumpled beyond repair.

It all seemed so helpless and hopeless. Listless, she just sat and thought and thought and thought. Reviewing in her mind snapshots of a life past, present and future. But the future wasn't there anymore. No, that had changed. It was gray and murky; hazy like fog on a San Francisco morning.

Directionless, she switched off the lamp and walked into her bedroom, climbed under the covers and prayed. She prayed for those she loved and those she lost. She prayed that when she woke up, it would all be a bad dream.

The Dare

"You're not really going to do this, are you?" He looked nervous, as if somehow, the calm ocean in front of them was only capable of doing something horrible to her.

She stood in front of him clad only in her little blue bikini with its tropical flowers strategically placed, head up, looking him in the eye. "What kind of person would you think I was if I backed down from the challenge that YOU issued! I am going in that water and that's that. Although at this time of the year, I am sure that it's freezing cold. I can't believe you dared me to dive in. My nipples are hard enough to cut glass just thinking about that freezing water and here you stand in your warm comfy robe laughing at me."

Glaring at him for only a second, her face broke out into a wide grin when she looked into his sparkling green eyes. They weren't quite the color of the pale water in front of them, but good God, they still had the power to melt her and interfere with her thoughts. Shaking her head to clear it, she let out a whoop and a yell that would have made her warrior ancestors proud and raced into the water, diving under a wave. Instantly, the frigid cold of the water stole her breath away as her head broke the surface. She was used to the cold, but holy shit, this was enough to cause one of her chattering teeth to chip.

She ran back out of the water, droplets clinging to every curve and dip on her skin. Sparkling in the early morning sunlight, those little bits of water made her look like she was covered in diamonds. As she walked toward him, they both started laughing. He wrapped her in a robe as they fell onto a chaise lounge and held her to him tightly, warming her all over.

"I win, she said. And now you have to pay up."

"Name your price lover. You can have anything you want. You win and I lose." He leaned down so that their foreheads were touching and then pulled back and kissed her on the nose. When he saw the glint in her eyes, he knew he was in some serious trouble. What he heard next were the words he had waited his entire life to hear and he never tired of hearing them.

"You. I want you. Now and always."

She smiled as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her up the beach and back into their cottage. Too bad, she thought. Those breakfasting on the beach could have gotten an extra treat with their morning coffee and bagels. He laid her onto the bed and then she stopped thinking at all.

One Place, Two Place, Bad Place, Good Place

I've packed a lot of living into the first 32 years of my life. I've lived in 10 states and 1 other country. I have been to 40 states and about a dozen other countries. I have moved over two dozen times. Changed schools. Met new people. Worked new jobs. Lived, laughed, loved, cried, mourned, changed, evolved. I have made babies and begun the process of raising them to be good, caring, compassionate, productive people. I have been a bitch. I have made mistakes. I have prayed. I have LIVED.

But I don't think I have ever experienced the roller-coaster of emotions the first 31 years of my life that I have experienced over the last year. The great thing about blogging is that I get to pick and choose what I share, and I haven't shared much of what I have been going through. That isn't going to change. But today I feel a bit like I woke up in the middle of a Dr. Seuss book and the world isn't what I thought it should be at all. Except Dr. Seuss books are bright and cheerful and there is always a moral to those stories and I woke up this morning in a world where there are no colors and no direction. I am feeling very lost today. Cast adrift without paddles if you will. I don't know what way to go or where to turn or even who to turn to right now.

I want to huddle up under a pile of blankets until it all goes away.

I really felt like I was in a great place this time yesterday. How quickly can things change in 24 hours. I have a lump in my throat the size of a softball. I am fucking miserable. It isn't often that I dream of being a kid again, because, hello? crappy childhood, but today I wish I had a snow day. One where the world is bright and white and pure. Before there are any footprints in the yard. Before the first sled goes down the hill. Shaking with the anticipation of fun things to come. Knowing that there is that drop in the stomach - but in a fun way - feeling right around the corner when I whizz down a sledding hill. Not having a worry or care in the world about the next day. Playing and laughing and jumping in the snow and throwing snowballs and building forts and just being a kid. I was a child for 18 years, but I barely remember ever being a kid.

I am quite maudlin today. Hopefully I wake up tomorrow and it's a snow day.

Where I Find the End of the Rainbow - Killing Someone

Holy shit! I just realized that writing is such a great outlet for aggression. Especially when you get to kill people. In a book or a short story or whatever.

*Evil Cackle*

I might totally suck at this, but I HAVE to try. It is like a siren's song in my blood. Urging me onward. Everything in the universe is pointing towards this. All of the support from my loved ones says it is the time to take the next step towards my biggest dream and also my biggest fear.

I love the written word. I always have. I suck up books like a vampire drains blood... avidly and with great enthusiasm. It is as if I would die if I didn't get to take some time out of my day to read. I own thousands of books and I have read every one of them at least once and a lot of them twice or more. For me, getting lost in a story is about being entertained not only by what is written, but by what hasn't been said. The things that I think about. What happens to this person or that person AFTER the story ends?

This feels almost like waiting for a baby to be born. You know that it's coming, but you don't know how it will turn out. Being an incubator for something that could be amazing, or average or even horrible. All I know is that I am dying to give birth and since I can't have physical babies anymore, at least now I can nurture and grow the things living inside of my own head.

I just realized that I might sound a little bit crazy. But that's OK. I have visions of Hemingway and ghosts in my head. Stories of what I know writhing inside, fighting to get out, but only on my terms will they be allowed to do so. I wake up in the middle of the night with thoughts jumbled in my mind. Dreams in color and visions so bright that I KNOW deep inside of me, it is my inner self screaming to be heard.

Hell yeah.

I am excited and terrified at the same time. Both reasons I haven't made even the teensiest baby step toward something I have longed for since the 12th grade when my BEYOTCH of an English Teacher put down my writing as mediocre and rambling. She made me doubt myself and I let her feed the insecurities that I had grown up with. I let other people constantly tell me that I wasn't good enough to do - fill in the blank.

No longer.

Now it is up to me to do what I want to do. And thank God I have the cast and crew supporting me all of the way. People who not only believe in me, but who are pushing me to go outside of my own comfort zone and follow my dreams. To stop talking and start doing.

Back Off Bitch

I just deleted an entire post of crap. Total and complete crap.

I was going to write something witty about personal space, but as I kept reading and re-reading it, I realized that it was total shit.

So I deleted the whole freaking thing.

Le sigh.

I am a little bit directionless today. But that's OK. I am learning to roll with it when life doesn't quite go my way. I am no longer living in fear of embracing happiness. I am following the advice of others and learning to grow and expand and laugh and love like I never have before.

So when before, I would have written this post over and over again until it was perfect, I am now just putting up something different. Because? It doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to be something that I like. Something that comes from the heart. Something that is what I am feeling and is for me and me alone. And it no longer matters if what I write is enjoyed or laughed over. It only matters that this is by me, for me.

Frankenfinger

Lord in heaven!!!

So....... I spent a large part of Tuesday night in the ER. Why you ask? Hmmmmmmm.

I love to cook. Because I love to cook, I own very nice, very sharp knives. In all of the years that I have been using said knives, I have never cut myself while cooking. Not one time. Which is really hard to believe if you know me because I am basically a walking disaster of clumsiness. I fall UP stairs. I fall down stairs. I trip. I run into walls. I get bruises I have no recollection of ever getting in the first place. But I think because of my ineptitude, I am hyper vigilant while using knives. I get these flashes of severed fingers running through my brain and since I like all of my fingers, I try really hard not to cut one off.

Any other time though? Not so careful. Obviously.

I was washing dishes on Tuesday night, when an extremely large, brand new knife that I bought myself for Christmas decided to eat the end of my left ring finger. We are talking blood gushing all over the place and me shaking and crying like a crack head going through withdrawal. The cut was so deep that I couldn't even see how deep it really was. I called my girlfriend over because my first aid kit was empty and SHE told me to go to the ER. This is a person who avoids hospitals at all costs.

Long story short? (Because that is what writing is all about right? SHORTENING stories.) I ended up with four stitches and a tetanus shot. The worst part was the numbing shot. The dude stuck the needle right into the end of my fucking finger and I thought I was going to jump out of my skin it hurt so badly. My finger now looks like it was sewn together with the skin of the various victims of Buffalo Bill from "The Silence of the Lambs."

"It rubs the lotion on the skin or else it gets the hose again."

It still hurts. Really hurts. And I am a big baby. And I don't fucking care.

But the BEST part of the night was that my 13 year old daughter went with me and the Triage Nurse thought she was one of my friends. When I explained that she was my daughter she was flabbergasted. So that was nice.

Please view the Frankenfinger ONLY and not the person behind it. I am a hot mess in this picture:

At least I will get a cool scar out of it!!!

Finding My Happy Again

I have vacillated about writing this past year. It's not that I don't love writing, I do. It's more that I have been struggling with personal issues for so long that I just let that love wither and wilt.

But I am really going to try to write. I am not going to give myself rules about writing. I am not going to say that I will post at least three times a week, or that I will write in my notebook every night. I think that is just setting myself up for failur

e. And how does one really fail at something like writing? My words co

me from the heart. They have never been premeditated for laughter or comments or praise or approval. NEVER

EVER. My words have been a very simple expression of myself. I am at my best when I just let things flow straight from my heart or gall bladder or axillary or wherever those words come from.

But I feel like I have gotten some of my happiness back

again. And happiness truly does come from within. Sure there have been people who have contributed to my happiness. Friends, family and lov

ed ones. But I am going to take credit for most of this. Because I could have easily let myself wither up and die... but I didn't. I fought. And I am still fighting. Because? That is who I am. I am a fighter. Sometimes the fight gets me down and leaves me weary and my heart is troubled. But at the end of the day, when I lay my head on my pillows at night, I know who I am inside. And I like myself.

Of course, spending the last week of January on

Maui helped me get back to center. So here are a few pictures of a place that I have ABSOLUTELY fallen in love with. I would go back in a heartbeat.

Sunrise at Mt. Haleakala

My mom and I at dinner

Sunrise over the water at the Lava Flow

Finally, I would like to thank my mom. She had some wonderful words of wisdom for me while we were in Maui together. She also gave me a journal at the end of our trip and this is what she wrote inside of it:

"Dear ADW,

Thank you for a wonderful vacation. This is for your writing - I love your stories.

Forever.

Love,

Mom

Jan 2010"

Thanks mom!!!