Update on my weight loss.
I've lost almost 30 pounds since the high of late July and August. I know it's a real loss, not just a broken scale, because I am able to get into clothes I haven't been able to wear for a year or more. And also because my skin is getting too big for me. My neck is getting nasty droopy.
The frustrating part is that I still have exactly the same shape! Just a little smaller all around. I've still got the pot belly (may I remind everyone that there's a real sixpack under there - I am well muscled under the padding) and the thunderthighs. When I am standing, I don't look half bad. But when I sit down, the thighs spread and the "famine relief pack" sticks out, and I look the same as before. It's very discouraging.
The thigh spread is the worst because at 4'10" tall, my thigh bones are very short, so sitting makes me look a lot like my favorite amphibian.
I haven't been able to walk as much as I need to because of the cold wet weather, so lately I've had to accomplish the loss through calorie reduction. I'm afraid I may be tipping over into anorexia (without the distorted body image - yet - but I can see where that could easily happen). When I don't go out for lunch or dinner, my average daily intake consists of 6 ounces of Dannon coffee yogurt, and either a stalk of raw broccoli or a large carrot, and my vitamins and minerals. And that's pretty much it. I doggie bag restaurant food, and one average restaurant meal will last me three or four days.
The night of the computer club meeting, I stopped at Stewarts on the way home and bought a pint of "Funny Cide" ice cream. Normally, I'll make four or five visits to a pint before it's all gone. But that night, I ate it all as soon as I got home. I didn't mean to eat it all, I just kept digging for the caramel, and then it was suddenly all gone. But it hasn't shown up on the scale, so... I guess I got away with it.
There's a small "spa" in the village, with "step" classes and stuff, upstairs over my bank. I think I'll check it out Monday. Treadmill. That would be good. Then I maybe could eat more.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Saturday, January 14, 2006
#524 Freakin' Out
It is now a little after 10 pm on Saturday, and I'm annoyed.
First off, it's very windy outside. The kind of windy where you can hear the waahoooorraaahooo of the wind coming up over the mountain and swooping down and over our ridge. One gust comes through and dies out, to be followed immediately by another. I can hear the trees whipping and creaking. Wind like that always keys me up, makes me jumpy. If there's anything bugging me at all, it'll come out in wind.
I've been doing the laundry (finally), and the washing machine has been very uncooperative. The cold water shutoff has totally quit, which means I have to manually turn the cold water on and off at the appropriate moments, or the washer will overflow all over the floor. Which it did twice already this evening.
I realized tonight that the lawyer from the online dating site, who was going to call to set up our meeting sometime during the week, hasn't called. I probably scared him off. Actually, that's alright. I was getting a bit nervous about him anyway. But it's still annoying.
And Roman's mother was supposed to have surgery yesterday morning. I haven't heard from him as to how she is, and I don't know why I haven't heard, and that's worrisome. I left a message on his home phone yesterday evening, and set him an email this morning, and there's nothing more I can do but worry and wonder.
I hate wind.
First off, it's very windy outside. The kind of windy where you can hear the waahoooorraaahooo of the wind coming up over the mountain and swooping down and over our ridge. One gust comes through and dies out, to be followed immediately by another. I can hear the trees whipping and creaking. Wind like that always keys me up, makes me jumpy. If there's anything bugging me at all, it'll come out in wind.
I've been doing the laundry (finally), and the washing machine has been very uncooperative. The cold water shutoff has totally quit, which means I have to manually turn the cold water on and off at the appropriate moments, or the washer will overflow all over the floor. Which it did twice already this evening.
I realized tonight that the lawyer from the online dating site, who was going to call to set up our meeting sometime during the week, hasn't called. I probably scared him off. Actually, that's alright. I was getting a bit nervous about him anyway. But it's still annoying.
And Roman's mother was supposed to have surgery yesterday morning. I haven't heard from him as to how she is, and I don't know why I haven't heard, and that's worrisome. I left a message on his home phone yesterday evening, and set him an email this morning, and there's nothing more I can do but worry and wonder.
I hate wind.
#523 Explanation & Multiplying Love
I got a heated reaction to entry #519 from someone who thinks I am obsessed with "her". I don't think I am obsessed with the other woman. What is driving me crazy is that I don't know what's going on in his mind. Her presence at the meeting (if it even was her, which I don't know for sure) would seem to indicate that something is off kilter, and it's that that's driving me crazy. Not knowing what's going on, what he's thinking or feeling. And with the family concerns he has at the moment, I'm not going to push for answers from him.
-----------------
Something I came across in the newspaper (and what's going on, of course) got me thinking about "shared" love. Everyone always says that if you have ten children, you love them all equally, just maybe in different ways. That it's not like there's only so much love, and it's diluted by being divided among several. That the capacity for love expands, and is separate and complete for each.
Having had only one child, I have no personal experience with this. But I still have an opinion.
I think it sounds really nice, but I don't think it's true. We want it to be true, but although love might want to expand, time doesn't. Attention might want to, but it can't. So maybe when you are lying in bed at night and you think of each of the children, the love you feel is equal for each. But the actual day-to-day expression of that love will not be. One of the children might need more of you, and you will naturally give more of your time and attention to that child. That matters. Priorities matter. It's not just the abstract feeling that you hold that counts, it's also the expression of it, and I'm sorry, but that just isn't going to be equal.
There has been some concern expressed that since I loved Jay so much, any man who might come after would feel intimidated by his example, jealous of his memory. It's not the same, because, well, he's gone. There will be no division of affection. I am sure that I can love again just as deeply (although differently, because another man will naturally be different.)
I've also been thinking about the dogs in this context, about something that surprised me. Ninja (the Keeshund, the gray and black in the photos) spent his first five months of life in a tiny cage in a pet shop. Consequently, he never learned how to play, and had difficulty accepting and displaying affection. We often had the impression that he merely tolerated us. He had some emotional problems, trust issues, as evidenced by the lick-marks on his right paw in the photo. Baby, on the other hand, the blond mixed-breed, lived with us since she was six weeks old, and she was 40 pounds of pure happiness and love.
Each dog did get separate time from Jay and me. Ninja was obedience-trained, and so he got to go places with us that Baby (with her excess exuberance) couldn't, and he and I spent a lot of time practicing the commands, which he seemed to enjoy. He liked knowing that he was doing something right and being praised for it. He had a problem with his hips (Von Willebrand's Disease, which eventually was fatal), so he could not go on long or difficult walks.
Baby, on the other hand, went with us on hikes. She was very good off the leash. Ninja was hard of
hearing, so if he got too far away from us, he couldn't hear us call him back, and not being a "scent" dog, he got lost easily.
I thought we knew both dogs well, and that we loved both dogs equally.
And then one day, Ninja died of a massive internal hemorrhage from the Von Willebrand's.
And we discovered that we hadn't known Baby at all as well as we thought. I guess a lot of her attention and affection had been going to Ninja, and she had been getting validation from him. Now she turned to us, and we discovered that she was a lot more intelligent and interactive than we had thought. The workings of her mind, which we had never noticed before, were fascinating. And I fell madly in love with her. I thought I had loved her before, but I hadn't really known the real her before.
So I can't help but wonder - when there is a passle of kids, especially if they are close in age, can you really know each of them that well? Since a lot of their interaction will be with each other, rather than with you? (Yeah, I know, dogs aren't children, but the social interaction, the satisfying of emotional needs, still applies.)
Now, don't go sending me flaming email that you have five children and you love them each and every one equally to distraction. I'm sure you do. But I'm wondering how well you really know each and every one. If there's one who needs you least, it's possible your knowledge of him or her is superficial. They may surprise you one day.
I don't know how any of this applies to my love life. When a man has two women, I suppose it is theoretically possible to love both equally, but in actual practice I don't think so. One will always be a higher priority than the other. In this case, I know she is a higher priority than I, and I suspect (but knowing nothing about their relationship it is pure conjecture) that it is her physical need for and dependence on him that tips the balance. Sort of like when Ninja got more attention and love from me because he needed it more than Baby did.
Maybe love expands - but time and attention cannot.
-----------------
Something I came across in the newspaper (and what's going on, of course) got me thinking about "shared" love. Everyone always says that if you have ten children, you love them all equally, just maybe in different ways. That it's not like there's only so much love, and it's diluted by being divided among several. That the capacity for love expands, and is separate and complete for each.
Having had only one child, I have no personal experience with this. But I still have an opinion.
I think it sounds really nice, but I don't think it's true. We want it to be true, but although love might want to expand, time doesn't. Attention might want to, but it can't. So maybe when you are lying in bed at night and you think of each of the children, the love you feel is equal for each. But the actual day-to-day expression of that love will not be. One of the children might need more of you, and you will naturally give more of your time and attention to that child. That matters. Priorities matter. It's not just the abstract feeling that you hold that counts, it's also the expression of it, and I'm sorry, but that just isn't going to be equal.
There has been some concern expressed that since I loved Jay so much, any man who might come after would feel intimidated by his example, jealous of his memory. It's not the same, because, well, he's gone. There will be no division of affection. I am sure that I can love again just as deeply (although differently, because another man will naturally be different.)
I've also been thinking about the dogs in this context, about something that surprised me. Ninja (the Keeshund, the gray and black in the photos) spent his first five months of life in a tiny cage in a pet shop. Consequently, he never learned how to play, and had difficulty accepting and displaying affection. We often had the impression that he merely tolerated us. He had some emotional problems, trust issues, as evidenced by the lick-marks on his right paw in the photo. Baby, on the other hand, the blond mixed-breed, lived with us since she was six weeks old, and she was 40 pounds of pure happiness and love.Each dog did get separate time from Jay and me. Ninja was obedience-trained, and so he got to go places with us that Baby (with her excess exuberance) couldn't, and he and I spent a lot of time practicing the commands, which he seemed to enjoy. He liked knowing that he was doing something right and being praised for it. He had a problem with his hips (Von Willebrand's Disease, which eventually was fatal), so he could not go on long or difficult walks.
Baby, on the other hand, went with us on hikes. She was very good off the leash. Ninja was hard of
hearing, so if he got too far away from us, he couldn't hear us call him back, and not being a "scent" dog, he got lost easily.I thought we knew both dogs well, and that we loved both dogs equally.
And then one day, Ninja died of a massive internal hemorrhage from the Von Willebrand's.
And we discovered that we hadn't known Baby at all as well as we thought. I guess a lot of her attention and affection had been going to Ninja, and she had been getting validation from him. Now she turned to us, and we discovered that she was a lot more intelligent and interactive than we had thought. The workings of her mind, which we had never noticed before, were fascinating. And I fell madly in love with her. I thought I had loved her before, but I hadn't really known the real her before.
So I can't help but wonder - when there is a passle of kids, especially if they are close in age, can you really know each of them that well? Since a lot of their interaction will be with each other, rather than with you? (Yeah, I know, dogs aren't children, but the social interaction, the satisfying of emotional needs, still applies.)
Now, don't go sending me flaming email that you have five children and you love them each and every one equally to distraction. I'm sure you do. But I'm wondering how well you really know each and every one. If there's one who needs you least, it's possible your knowledge of him or her is superficial. They may surprise you one day.
I don't know how any of this applies to my love life. When a man has two women, I suppose it is theoretically possible to love both equally, but in actual practice I don't think so. One will always be a higher priority than the other. In this case, I know she is a higher priority than I, and I suspect (but knowing nothing about their relationship it is pure conjecture) that it is her physical need for and dependence on him that tips the balance. Sort of like when Ninja got more attention and love from me because he needed it more than Baby did.
Maybe love expands - but time and attention cannot.
Friday, January 13, 2006
#522 Missing Comments
If you left a comment recently, like in the past two weeks, and it never showed up on my journal, please try again.
Comments are sent in an email to my AOL address, where I approve them for posting. Well, big surprise. AOLers are reporting that NO EMAILS FROM BLOGGER are getting through to their AOL mailboxes.
Very strange. The AOL reps are mystified. Nobody can figure out what went wrong. Blogger (the host of this site) is supposedly on the "white list". In AOL, if it comes from somewhere not on the white list, emails get thrown away as spam. You never even see them. Which seems to usually work pretty well, since I get only an average of one or two spam emails a day on AOL.
A lot of AOLers are very suspicious. Especially since several hundred of them pulled their journals off AOL when AOL added advertising on their journals with no warning and no permission, and many of them moved to Blogger, while keeping their AOL email accounts. Me included. Hmmmm.
Other AOLers have said it's been going on for two weeks. I know a week ago I was still getting comment alerts, so last night I tried an anonymous comment, and, no kidding, no notice.
So I changed my Blogger comment notification address from AOL to my id on Yahoo, where I hear they do get through.
If you left a comment recently, like in the past two weeks, and it never showed up on my journal, please try again. I did not ignore or censor you.
Comments are sent in an email to my AOL address, where I approve them for posting. Well, big surprise. AOLers are reporting that NO EMAILS FROM BLOGGER are getting through to their AOL mailboxes.
Very strange. The AOL reps are mystified. Nobody can figure out what went wrong. Blogger (the host of this site) is supposedly on the "white list". In AOL, if it comes from somewhere not on the white list, emails get thrown away as spam. You never even see them. Which seems to usually work pretty well, since I get only an average of one or two spam emails a day on AOL.
A lot of AOLers are very suspicious. Especially since several hundred of them pulled their journals off AOL when AOL added advertising on their journals with no warning and no permission, and many of them moved to Blogger, while keeping their AOL email accounts. Me included. Hmmmm.
Other AOLers have said it's been going on for two weeks. I know a week ago I was still getting comment alerts, so last night I tried an anonymous comment, and, no kidding, no notice.
So I changed my Blogger comment notification address from AOL to my id on Yahoo, where I hear they do get through.
If you left a comment recently, like in the past two weeks, and it never showed up on my journal, please try again. I did not ignore or censor you.
#521 Read This!
Ack! Three posts in one day! So hate me!
I almost never touch on the news or politics in this journal. It's a personal journal for a reason. But if I ever did want to say something controversial, this - http://www.livejournal.com/users/triggur/115488.html - is what I'd say. Read the comments, too.
It might make some folks angry, but I do agree fully.
So there.
I almost never touch on the news or politics in this journal. It's a personal journal for a reason. But if I ever did want to say something controversial, this - http://www.livejournal.com/users/triggur/115488.html - is what I'd say. Read the comments, too.
It might make some folks angry, but I do agree fully.
So there.
#520 No Alignment Yet
I did take the van to the local garage early this morning to see if they could do the alignment. They didn't feel that they could get it onto "the machine" (whatever that is) because of the van's dropped floor and 4" clearance, but they do have a special pit that they use for very large heavy trucks. It has adjustable supports (I think that's what Roman was describing when I told him about the problem), but there was a truck on it at the moment, so they couldn't check. But the son took some measurements of the wheel span on the van, and will check this afternoon whether the supports can be adjusted sufficiently to fit the van. They'll call.
Sigh.
Sigh.
#519 Near Collision
Meeting and lunch with Piper yesterday. I like having lunch with him. He really is so nice, and so easy to talk with. He seems to have a unique insight into people, their feelings and motivations. He seems to understand what's going on in relationships so much better than anyone else I know, even my female friends. (I wish there was some chemistry - it would make things so much easier. Or harder. I don't know.)
He asked how things were going with Roman, and I told him. We talked quite a bit about it. He made two major points that I'll have to think about. One, that it takes most men a very long time to make relationship changes, especially from something sure to something unsure. If it's going to happen at all, it most certainly can't be rushed. And two, there's a total cutting off of contact on one side, and a continuation of the current situation on the other side, and there's a very wide range in between, and that somewhere in between is the probably best way to go. I just have to decide how far down the continuum I want to be. He said he can tell how I feel about him by the look in my eyes when I talk about him. That was one thing I didn't want to hear.
Returning to his office in the car, I said something about how all I knew for sure was that there was one thing on that continuum that I was going to have to give up, and I'd hate giving that up because it's so very goooooooood!
He said that was the one thing I could get elsewhere any time I wanted. I said that I don't do casual. He said something like that it isn't casual when it's with friendship and respect. He has told me a few times that his only female relationship now is platonic. I may have misunderstood, but I think that may have been an offer. (Sorry, but I still think that's casual. I don't do casual.)
When I walked into the house after lunch, at about 2:30. the telephone machine was taking a message - Roman's voice. I ran to pick up. He was calling from a parking lot outside a doctor's office. He said that his father had a problem and he'd had to take him to the doctor's, and here it was 2:30 already and he hadn't been to the hospital to see his mother yet, so he was pretty certain that he wouldn't make it back in time for the computer club meeting. We talked about the software that would be offered (a version of Adobe Photo Shop). He had done some research on it, and said that since he and I were both on Windows 98, and the program ran only on XP, we couldn't use it. He made no effort to discourage me from attending the meeting, seemed to assume that I would. This is significant.
I went to the meeting. If I ever want to meet more men in their 60s, this is the place! There were more than 100 of them there. The program had been heavily advertised, and there were many "new" attendees. One guy even chatted me up. Not bad looking, either. And apparently after the meeting some folks regularly go to the Friendly's up the road, so it would be easy to get ... friendlier. I may have to attend more of these meetings.
The speaker was interesting.
It would have been more interesting if Roman had made it, because there was a woman there who fitted the description of "her", the other woman, to a T. I was shocked. I wanted very much to introduce myself and find out if it really was her, but I couldn't think of how right then. I was absolutely stunned. I waited around in the parking lot to see if she and her driver headed for the Friendly's, since by then I had figured out a way to approach her without giving anything away, but they turned the other direction. Phooey. A lost opportunity.
I didn't catch a flicker of recognition from her, although she had to be aware I was staring at her. You'd think the hair might mean something to her. I mean, he has to have turned up occasionally with long pale blond hairs on his sweaters. (And damn! My hair looked good last night! It was silky smooth and actually sparkled.)
So today I am filled with questions.
First off, I truly believe Roman's reason for not making the meeting. I accept it as completely honest.
IF that WAS her, was he unaware she would be there? How could that be?
It would make sense that she might go, since she would be aware of Roman's fancy new digital SLR camera (which she is probably NOT aware was a gift to him from ME.)
If he was aware that she would be there, wouldn't he have tried to discourage me from going?
Is it possible that if the timing had worked out, we could have found ourselves all together in the same room?
Oops?
Wouldn't that have been fun?
Damn! I wish I knew if that was really her. How many women are there around here who would fit the description so well, AND be likely to turn up at that meeting?
I hope it was her. If so, I need no longer feel that I might suffer by comparison. (Oooo - catty! Bad girl! Slap fingers!)
Later edit - 2:15 pm. I have about convinced myself now that it was not her. It couldn't have been. Too much coincidence. Maybe I just want it to have been her. Oh, the drama! Oh, the excitement! Oh, I wish I knew. I wish I could find out for sure.
He asked how things were going with Roman, and I told him. We talked quite a bit about it. He made two major points that I'll have to think about. One, that it takes most men a very long time to make relationship changes, especially from something sure to something unsure. If it's going to happen at all, it most certainly can't be rushed. And two, there's a total cutting off of contact on one side, and a continuation of the current situation on the other side, and there's a very wide range in between, and that somewhere in between is the probably best way to go. I just have to decide how far down the continuum I want to be. He said he can tell how I feel about him by the look in my eyes when I talk about him. That was one thing I didn't want to hear.
Returning to his office in the car, I said something about how all I knew for sure was that there was one thing on that continuum that I was going to have to give up, and I'd hate giving that up because it's so very goooooooood!
He said that was the one thing I could get elsewhere any time I wanted. I said that I don't do casual. He said something like that it isn't casual when it's with friendship and respect. He has told me a few times that his only female relationship now is platonic. I may have misunderstood, but I think that may have been an offer. (Sorry, but I still think that's casual. I don't do casual.)
When I walked into the house after lunch, at about 2:30. the telephone machine was taking a message - Roman's voice. I ran to pick up. He was calling from a parking lot outside a doctor's office. He said that his father had a problem and he'd had to take him to the doctor's, and here it was 2:30 already and he hadn't been to the hospital to see his mother yet, so he was pretty certain that he wouldn't make it back in time for the computer club meeting. We talked about the software that would be offered (a version of Adobe Photo Shop). He had done some research on it, and said that since he and I were both on Windows 98, and the program ran only on XP, we couldn't use it. He made no effort to discourage me from attending the meeting, seemed to assume that I would. This is significant.
I went to the meeting. If I ever want to meet more men in their 60s, this is the place! There were more than 100 of them there. The program had been heavily advertised, and there were many "new" attendees. One guy even chatted me up. Not bad looking, either. And apparently after the meeting some folks regularly go to the Friendly's up the road, so it would be easy to get ... friendlier. I may have to attend more of these meetings.
The speaker was interesting.
It would have been more interesting if Roman had made it, because there was a woman there who fitted the description of "her", the other woman, to a T. I was shocked. I wanted very much to introduce myself and find out if it really was her, but I couldn't think of how right then. I was absolutely stunned. I waited around in the parking lot to see if she and her driver headed for the Friendly's, since by then I had figured out a way to approach her without giving anything away, but they turned the other direction. Phooey. A lost opportunity.
I didn't catch a flicker of recognition from her, although she had to be aware I was staring at her. You'd think the hair might mean something to her. I mean, he has to have turned up occasionally with long pale blond hairs on his sweaters. (And damn! My hair looked good last night! It was silky smooth and actually sparkled.)
So today I am filled with questions.
First off, I truly believe Roman's reason for not making the meeting. I accept it as completely honest.
IF that WAS her, was he unaware she would be there? How could that be?
It would make sense that she might go, since she would be aware of Roman's fancy new digital SLR camera (which she is probably NOT aware was a gift to him from ME.)
If he was aware that she would be there, wouldn't he have tried to discourage me from going?
Is it possible that if the timing had worked out, we could have found ourselves all together in the same room?
Oops?
Wouldn't that have been fun?
Damn! I wish I knew if that was really her. How many women are there around here who would fit the description so well, AND be likely to turn up at that meeting?
I hope it was her. If so, I need no longer feel that I might suffer by comparison. (Oooo - catty! Bad girl! Slap fingers!)
Later edit - 2:15 pm. I have about convinced myself now that it was not her. It couldn't have been. Too much coincidence. Maybe I just want it to have been her. Oh, the drama! Oh, the excitement! Oh, I wish I knew. I wish I could find out for sure.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
#518 Scary Dream
I had this dream about 10 days ago. For some reason I didn't write it down then, but also for some reason I told Roman about it the last time I saw him, the morning after I had the dream. It's still bothering me. It's one of those where I woke up panting and shaking, and very frightened.
The house in the dream was not this house, but the previous house, the one my daughter grew up in, except that the living room wall next to the door wasn't there. It was late evening in the dream, and someone was ringing the doorbell over and over, like it was an emergency or something. I went to the door, and asked through the door who was there. As was often my habit in that house, the door was not locked. A man answered in a very excited and pleading voice, but what he was saying was in some eastern European-sounding language that I couldn't understand, except that every so often he said something that sounded like my name, but distorted by a heavy accent.
As I stood there trying to understand what he was saying, he became more excited and louder, less pleading and more angry, and I felt the doorknob slowly turning. He was opening the door! I caught a glimpse of him then. He was very thin and disheveled, even dirty. I tried to push the door closed and throw the deadbolt, but the door was ... weird. It swung both ways, and there was a wide space between the door and the frame. When I tried to push the door closed I pushed too far to his side, and he stuck his fingers over the deadbolt so it wouldn't engage. We struggled back and forth over the door, and I started screaming for Daughter to call 911. I finally managed to beat his fingers away from the deadbolt and got the door closed and locked, and then I ran down the hall still screaming for Daughter to call 911.
The man started down the front of the house. He was trying the windows. The house had double-hung windows, and as I ran toward my Daughter's room, I was thinking that all the windows were latched, except ...! In real life, in the end front bedroom, which was Daughter's room when we lived there, the side window didn't fit right, and it wouldn't latch. In real life, I had pegged it. But in the dream, it was unpegged, and when he got to that window, he would be able to open it. Also, in the dream, the back bedroom was my daughter's, and the front bedroom with the unlocked window was mine.
So I ran into Daughter's room screaming "Get your phone! Where's your phone! Call 911! Now!", and she was sitting up in her bed, rubbing her eyes, still half asleep, saying "Wha...?" (She looked maybe about 12 years old.) I knew she was wasn't going to be any help, she probably couldn't even find her phone, so I ran to my bedroom, and the man was at the unlatched window, and was about to open it
when I woke up in a panic.
I couldn't get back to sleep. I checked the bed phone to make sure it was working. I hefted and tested the flashlight. I went around and checked all the door locks. Several times. I even checked the deadbolt on the garage door. I suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable. I was really frightened.
I haven't the faintest idea what it means. Yet.
If I can't have a man, I want a dog. For the first time ever, I was afraid here. I don't like that feeling.
The house in the dream was not this house, but the previous house, the one my daughter grew up in, except that the living room wall next to the door wasn't there. It was late evening in the dream, and someone was ringing the doorbell over and over, like it was an emergency or something. I went to the door, and asked through the door who was there. As was often my habit in that house, the door was not locked. A man answered in a very excited and pleading voice, but what he was saying was in some eastern European-sounding language that I couldn't understand, except that every so often he said something that sounded like my name, but distorted by a heavy accent.
As I stood there trying to understand what he was saying, he became more excited and louder, less pleading and more angry, and I felt the doorknob slowly turning. He was opening the door! I caught a glimpse of him then. He was very thin and disheveled, even dirty. I tried to push the door closed and throw the deadbolt, but the door was ... weird. It swung both ways, and there was a wide space between the door and the frame. When I tried to push the door closed I pushed too far to his side, and he stuck his fingers over the deadbolt so it wouldn't engage. We struggled back and forth over the door, and I started screaming for Daughter to call 911. I finally managed to beat his fingers away from the deadbolt and got the door closed and locked, and then I ran down the hall still screaming for Daughter to call 911.
The man started down the front of the house. He was trying the windows. The house had double-hung windows, and as I ran toward my Daughter's room, I was thinking that all the windows were latched, except ...! In real life, in the end front bedroom, which was Daughter's room when we lived there, the side window didn't fit right, and it wouldn't latch. In real life, I had pegged it. But in the dream, it was unpegged, and when he got to that window, he would be able to open it. Also, in the dream, the back bedroom was my daughter's, and the front bedroom with the unlocked window was mine.
So I ran into Daughter's room screaming "Get your phone! Where's your phone! Call 911! Now!", and she was sitting up in her bed, rubbing her eyes, still half asleep, saying "Wha...?" (She looked maybe about 12 years old.) I knew she was wasn't going to be any help, she probably couldn't even find her phone, so I ran to my bedroom, and the man was at the unlatched window, and was about to open it
when I woke up in a panic.
I couldn't get back to sleep. I checked the bed phone to make sure it was working. I hefted and tested the flashlight. I went around and checked all the door locks. Several times. I even checked the deadbolt on the garage door. I suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable. I was really frightened.
I haven't the faintest idea what it means. Yet.
If I can't have a man, I want a dog. For the first time ever, I was afraid here. I don't like that feeling.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
#517 Trying to Get Lost
I made a quick trip to the deli about noonish, and then wandered some more back roads. I'm getting to know the roads around here too well. I may have to go farther afield to keep it satisfying. I kept ending up on route 9, no matter how well I watched the compass, so finally I gave up and headed home. As I turned into my street, I realized I really didn't want to go home. There's too much to do here that I don't feel like doing. Like laundry. Sorting. Clearing. Bleck. I really want to just go to bed with a book and shut the world out. But the bed isn't comfortable with those damn satin sheets, so I need to do laundry. Double bleck.
I had asked 'him' to call when he got back, to let me know how his mother was (but really how he was holding up), so he called last night. He's headed back down this afternoon, and may or may not make it back for the meeting tomorrow evening.
I mentioned to him that I had received his card, and I didn't know what to think of it, why he sent it.
He said he just wanted to let me know he was thinking of me "during this one or two week break".
"One or two weeks?"
He insisted he had said last Wednesday that he wanted to take a one or two week break.
I said I didn't hear that. I think I would have caught that, had I heard him say it.
Silence.
Well, he wanted me to know that he was thinking of me, that he "thinks about me a lot. All the time."
"Oh."
I changed the subject.
I haven't changed my mind.
I have an 11 o'clock meeting with Piper tomorrow to sign some papers, and then we plan to go out for lunch. Then I'll be heading for Pok for the computer club meeting. If lunch is long, I may not have an opportunity for a post tomorrow. Friday morning early (Oh god I hate that word) I have to have the van in for the (I hope they can do it) alignment.
Right now, I'm going to take a long bubble bath and wash my hair.
I had asked 'him' to call when he got back, to let me know how his mother was (but really how he was holding up), so he called last night. He's headed back down this afternoon, and may or may not make it back for the meeting tomorrow evening.
I mentioned to him that I had received his card, and I didn't know what to think of it, why he sent it.
He said he just wanted to let me know he was thinking of me "during this one or two week break".
"One or two weeks?"
He insisted he had said last Wednesday that he wanted to take a one or two week break.
I said I didn't hear that. I think I would have caught that, had I heard him say it.
Silence.
Well, he wanted me to know that he was thinking of me, that he "thinks about me a lot. All the time."
"Oh."
I changed the subject.
I haven't changed my mind.
I have an 11 o'clock meeting with Piper tomorrow to sign some papers, and then we plan to go out for lunch. Then I'll be heading for Pok for the computer club meeting. If lunch is long, I may not have an opportunity for a post tomorrow. Friday morning early (Oh god I hate that word) I have to have the van in for the (I hope they can do it) alignment.
Right now, I'm going to take a long bubble bath and wash my hair.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
#516 A Home for My CDs
I'd been frustrated by my CD storage arrangements. They are in a deep mission-style cabinet in the livingroom, in such a way that it was not at all convenient to paw through them, so that they usually ended up in stacks on top of the cabinet (which incidentally also holds the player). The cabinet is right next to my little bill-paying desk, so it would be convenient if I could use it for desk overflow, instead of the piles on the floor around the desk. Therefore, I need a CD cabinet, right? Make the CDs convenient, and free up some useful storage space. I measured, and decided it would fit neatly behind the door in the den.
I bought this, from spinkeeper.com:
It holds 330 CD's or 166 DVD's or 92 VHS tapes.
It arrived today, was left on my doorstep in a box as tall, wide, and deep as myself. And when I tried to drag it into the house, I found that it was also as heavy as myself.
I cleaned out behind the den door, thinking I would assemble it tonight.
Uh-uh. This is going to be an all-day project. There are 184 pieces of hardware, 16 pieces of wood (the visible parts are hardwood, backs and shelves are composite), and 2 pieces of glass. It requires two types of screwdrivers in two or three different sizes, a rubber mallet, glue (provided), various pliers, and who knows what else.
Oh, and space on the floor big enough to assemble it. I may be in trouble there. I mean, that's why I bought it - to open up some space...!
Well, the pieces are out of the box, and it sure is pretty, although it's a lot REDder than I expected, for cherry finish. I was thinking cherry wood, not cherry pie. Oh, well.
I bought this, from spinkeeper.com:
It holds 330 CD's or 166 DVD's or 92 VHS tapes.It arrived today, was left on my doorstep in a box as tall, wide, and deep as myself. And when I tried to drag it into the house, I found that it was also as heavy as myself.
I cleaned out behind the den door, thinking I would assemble it tonight.
Uh-uh. This is going to be an all-day project. There are 184 pieces of hardware, 16 pieces of wood (the visible parts are hardwood, backs and shelves are composite), and 2 pieces of glass. It requires two types of screwdrivers in two or three different sizes, a rubber mallet, glue (provided), various pliers, and who knows what else.
Oh, and space on the floor big enough to assemble it. I may be in trouble there. I mean, that's why I bought it - to open up some space...!
Well, the pieces are out of the box, and it sure is pretty, although it's a lot REDder than I expected, for cherry finish. I was thinking cherry wood, not cherry pie. Oh, well.
#515 Where Oh Where Have My Little Boys Gone?
I received a notice yesterday that there was a certified letter waiting for me at the post office, so today I picked it up. It was from a fertility clinic in Albany.
Back before Jay started his first chemotherapy, he stored several vials of sperm at Albany Medical Center. He was only 46 at the time (I was 54), and the doctors recommended it for peace of mind. Jay had no children and always wanted some, so ....
After he died, I didn't know what to do with the vials. I let them stay the first year, but they really weren't doing anyone any good just sitting there. Then Albany Med closed their fertility center, and I got a notice that the vials were being transferred to another center, followed shortly by a bill from the new center for another year's storage. It's a few hundred dollars a year. I agonized over it a bit, and then called them and signed the papers to have them released - I chose the option where they can use them for fertilization or science, or just destroy them, and I would not be told what happened to them. I decided that whatever their fate, it would be what was meant to be. That was early in 2003.
In 2004 that clinic closed, and I got a notice that the vials were being transferred to another center, followed shortly by a bill from the new center for another year's storage. I called and explained the situation, and they forgave the bill.
In 2005 that clinic closed (Do you see a pattern here? What is it with fertility clinics?), and I got a notice that the vials were being transferred to another center, followed shortly by a bill from the new center for another year's storage. I called and explained the situation, and they forgave the bill.
Here it is 2006. Guess what. They are being transferred again. I haven't got the bill yet, but I suppose it's coming.
I feel haunted. Hounded. I wonder if Jay has a hand in this from beyond. I may have to find a surrogate mother somewhere to use them up.
Anyone out there interested in giving birth to a tall dark furry genius?
Back before Jay started his first chemotherapy, he stored several vials of sperm at Albany Medical Center. He was only 46 at the time (I was 54), and the doctors recommended it for peace of mind. Jay had no children and always wanted some, so ....
After he died, I didn't know what to do with the vials. I let them stay the first year, but they really weren't doing anyone any good just sitting there. Then Albany Med closed their fertility center, and I got a notice that the vials were being transferred to another center, followed shortly by a bill from the new center for another year's storage. It's a few hundred dollars a year. I agonized over it a bit, and then called them and signed the papers to have them released - I chose the option where they can use them for fertilization or science, or just destroy them, and I would not be told what happened to them. I decided that whatever their fate, it would be what was meant to be. That was early in 2003.
In 2004 that clinic closed, and I got a notice that the vials were being transferred to another center, followed shortly by a bill from the new center for another year's storage. I called and explained the situation, and they forgave the bill.
In 2005 that clinic closed (Do you see a pattern here? What is it with fertility clinics?), and I got a notice that the vials were being transferred to another center, followed shortly by a bill from the new center for another year's storage. I called and explained the situation, and they forgave the bill.
Here it is 2006. Guess what. They are being transferred again. I haven't got the bill yet, but I suppose it's coming.
I feel haunted. Hounded. I wonder if Jay has a hand in this from beyond. I may have to find a surrogate mother somewhere to use them up.
Anyone out there interested in giving birth to a tall dark furry genius?
Monday, January 09, 2006
#514 Lost Peace
I went to the post office this evening, and then for one of my notorious "try to get lost" drives. I took turns at random, and I found a tiny hamlet I'd never heard of before, named Viewmont, six or eight houses and a church, somewhere north of home between routes 9 and 9G. The road was one of those where the trees and telephone poles and barns crowd right up against the verge, and the deer were out in the twilight. It was a nice drive. I may never find that road again.
I often find places like that, quiet peaceful spots, but usually there's no village sign, or I don't remember the name, so I can't look it up on a map, and I really never do find it again. I like to think sometimes that the place existed only for that moment, and can never be found again.
Like a lot of peaceful places
When I got home, I brought the mail up from the end of the drive, and found among it a card from Roman. On the front it says "Just thought I'd drop you a line to say Hi and to let you know things are pretty much the same" with a drawing of a grinning cat. Inside it says "I'm still as adorable as you remember me to be." It's signed "With Love".
I don't understand.
It was mailed on Saturday, from Westchester. Westchester? Saturday? And then the call last night, Sunday night.
I don't understand.
He's male. Men don't shop for cards like that, especially not for someone they want to "take a break" from.
He's intelligent. If he did want to choose a card, he'd want to make damn sure it was appropriate.
He's cautious. He wouldn't say anything in writing that I might misinterpret.
I don't understand.
How does he want me to interpret this? Is he just wagging his tail, like "Please don't be mad at me?"
Is he trying to defuse any retaliation I might take?
And then I sit down at the computer and find an email from him, written a half hour before, containing details about the computer club meeting Thursday evening and a note that he's getting ready to head back to the city.
Ok, this one I could understand all by itself. But it was a little more than I could take all at once.
I need to find that hamlet again.
Daughter? Do nothing! Say nothing! I am strong when I have to be, and I am allowed to be weak when I want to be.
Right now I am strong.
I will never! ever! be second-class again.
I often find places like that, quiet peaceful spots, but usually there's no village sign, or I don't remember the name, so I can't look it up on a map, and I really never do find it again. I like to think sometimes that the place existed only for that moment, and can never be found again.
Like a lot of peaceful places
When I got home, I brought the mail up from the end of the drive, and found among it a card from Roman. On the front it says "Just thought I'd drop you a line to say Hi and to let you know things are pretty much the same" with a drawing of a grinning cat. Inside it says "I'm still as adorable as you remember me to be." It's signed "With Love".
I don't understand.
It was mailed on Saturday, from Westchester. Westchester? Saturday? And then the call last night, Sunday night.
I don't understand.
He's male. Men don't shop for cards like that, especially not for someone they want to "take a break" from.
He's intelligent. If he did want to choose a card, he'd want to make damn sure it was appropriate.
He's cautious. He wouldn't say anything in writing that I might misinterpret.
I don't understand.
How does he want me to interpret this? Is he just wagging his tail, like "Please don't be mad at me?"
Is he trying to defuse any retaliation I might take?
And then I sit down at the computer and find an email from him, written a half hour before, containing details about the computer club meeting Thursday evening and a note that he's getting ready to head back to the city.
Ok, this one I could understand all by itself. But it was a little more than I could take all at once.
I need to find that hamlet again.
Daughter? Do nothing! Say nothing! I am strong when I have to be, and I am allowed to be weak when I want to be.
Right now I am strong.
I will never! ever! be second-class again.
#513 Still Friends, I Hope
Roman called last night. He had his parent's cell phone, and called from the highway on his way back from the city. His mother had been taken ill suddenly Friday, is now hositalized, and it's looking worrisome. His father needs constant care, so that could be a problem, too. He had spent the weekend there and plans to go back and forth as he is able to get coverage for his classes.
He kept losing the signal, and after three drops and callbacks, we decided to finish the call after he got home.
The purpose of the call was not so much to tell me about his mother as to ask how I was (which he didn't get around to until after he got home). Rather nice of him to ask, I think. Also to tell me about an Adobe rep who would be speaking at the computer club on Thursday about Photo Shop. The speakers usually have copies of their products for sale at a discount, and he thought I might be interested. And to tell me that the class I had signed up for with him in February looks like it will run (2/3 of the evening classes offered don't get enough enrollment), since there are already three people signed up.
I was actually surprised at my reaction. Of course I wanted to hug him for his mother. But I wasn't hoping he'd ask me to come over. Not that I hoped he wouldn't - it just didn't matter. I suppose I would have gone to him if he'd asked, but I'd keep my clothes on.
I do plan to go to the meeting on Thursday, and although it would be nice if he were there (since I'm not a member), I didn't ask if he would be. In fact, I offered to pick up a copy for him if he wasn't there. He said no, he didn't want one just yet.
I'm glad he told me that the class is going to go, because I do want the subject, and it's nice to know asap because there's also another class starting the same night, meeting the same nights for the same duration, that I was sort of interested in. I'd have been disappointed if Roman's class was cancelled and the college didn't inform me until too late to sign up for the other (they DO that! And they'd cancel the other, too, at the same time, when my signing up for it could have saved it.)
An aside - you'd think the college could be a little smarter. They'll offer three sections on the same subject, one M/F evenings, one T/TH evenings, and one on Saturday mornings. They'll get two people sign up for each, and then a few days before they are supposed to start, they'll cancel all three because none of the sections have the required minimum. Ummm, wouldn't it make sense to check on whether any of the enrollees would be willing to switch to a different day? Maybe all six would be willing to take it on the same day. Am I the only person who thought of this?
So, anyhow, when Roman asked how I was, and I said "Fine", I meant it.
He kept losing the signal, and after three drops and callbacks, we decided to finish the call after he got home.
The purpose of the call was not so much to tell me about his mother as to ask how I was (which he didn't get around to until after he got home). Rather nice of him to ask, I think. Also to tell me about an Adobe rep who would be speaking at the computer club on Thursday about Photo Shop. The speakers usually have copies of their products for sale at a discount, and he thought I might be interested. And to tell me that the class I had signed up for with him in February looks like it will run (2/3 of the evening classes offered don't get enough enrollment), since there are already three people signed up.
I was actually surprised at my reaction. Of course I wanted to hug him for his mother. But I wasn't hoping he'd ask me to come over. Not that I hoped he wouldn't - it just didn't matter. I suppose I would have gone to him if he'd asked, but I'd keep my clothes on.
I do plan to go to the meeting on Thursday, and although it would be nice if he were there (since I'm not a member), I didn't ask if he would be. In fact, I offered to pick up a copy for him if he wasn't there. He said no, he didn't want one just yet.
I'm glad he told me that the class is going to go, because I do want the subject, and it's nice to know asap because there's also another class starting the same night, meeting the same nights for the same duration, that I was sort of interested in. I'd have been disappointed if Roman's class was cancelled and the college didn't inform me until too late to sign up for the other (they DO that! And they'd cancel the other, too, at the same time, when my signing up for it could have saved it.)
An aside - you'd think the college could be a little smarter. They'll offer three sections on the same subject, one M/F evenings, one T/TH evenings, and one on Saturday mornings. They'll get two people sign up for each, and then a few days before they are supposed to start, they'll cancel all three because none of the sections have the required minimum. Ummm, wouldn't it make sense to check on whether any of the enrollees would be willing to switch to a different day? Maybe all six would be willing to take it on the same day. Am I the only person who thought of this?
So, anyhow, when Roman asked how I was, and I said "Fine", I meant it.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
#512 The Journey Begins
Having checked him out (I even found his ABA registration number), I called the lawyer early this afternoon. He has a nice strong voice. Two daughters, a teenaged son who lives with him, and five grandchildren. One of his daughters (the source of some of the grandchildren) lives just a few miles from me. Near the bridge. (Ack!)
He'll call during the week, and we'll meet sometime at the diner in Hyde Park "after work" for coffee and dessert.
I also got a nice note from a retired guy who lives in western Nebraska. Not looking for a date, just someone to correspond with, with his brand-new what-the-heck-do-I-do-with-this-thing computer. I have set up a special alternate screen name on AOL to correspond with him, and have directed him to some online communities. If he gets weird, I can just delete the screen name.
I will probably do the same with any local responders whom I can't check out so easily.
The lawyer guy was easy to check out, because he gave me a land-line phone number. But having determined that he is an ABA member (since the late 1960s) doesn't mean he still IS a member in good standing, and that he's not totally nutso. I know that. So yes, I will still be careful.
But I do tend to be too open and trusting - so Daughter, you'll get an email shortly with all the details, in case I like, turn up missing or something.
I don't know how to check out someone who doesn't give me a land-line number. That worries me. Even with this guy, even though "Esq." or "Atty" was after his name everywhere I could find it, until I found him on the ABA website I was still not convinced (his home address is not impressive). I kept remembering the guy I knew who decided he was a baron.
This guy, let's pretend his name was Carlesky, decided that his name had been corrupted when his ancestors immigrated, and that his name should be Carlov. He changed it to Carlov with the Mensa main office. Then he decided it should really be VonCarlov. Another change. Then he decided he was by inheritance a baron, so he wanted Mensa mail to be addressed to Baron VonCarlov. Further enhancements ensued. At some point, the main office said enough already, and refused to make further changes. But, he wanted to be Baron VonCarlov everywhere he could be, and he was. Likewise, I suppose someone could get away with adding "Esq." or "Atty" after their name if they want, without a problem, as long as they don't give legal advice.
You know, I'm not really sure I want to do this. It seems like so much trouble, so much potential for rejection. I feel like I have to, though. I don't want to go back into the funk I had been in, before the frog prince kissed the sleeping beauty and awakened her. That would be so easy.... Just to go back to sleep.
He'll call during the week, and we'll meet sometime at the diner in Hyde Park "after work" for coffee and dessert.
I also got a nice note from a retired guy who lives in western Nebraska. Not looking for a date, just someone to correspond with, with his brand-new what-the-heck-do-I-do-with-this-thing computer. I have set up a special alternate screen name on AOL to correspond with him, and have directed him to some online communities. If he gets weird, I can just delete the screen name.
I will probably do the same with any local responders whom I can't check out so easily.
The lawyer guy was easy to check out, because he gave me a land-line phone number. But having determined that he is an ABA member (since the late 1960s) doesn't mean he still IS a member in good standing, and that he's not totally nutso. I know that. So yes, I will still be careful.
But I do tend to be too open and trusting - so Daughter, you'll get an email shortly with all the details, in case I like, turn up missing or something.
I don't know how to check out someone who doesn't give me a land-line number. That worries me. Even with this guy, even though "Esq." or "Atty" was after his name everywhere I could find it, until I found him on the ABA website I was still not convinced (his home address is not impressive). I kept remembering the guy I knew who decided he was a baron.
This guy, let's pretend his name was Carlesky, decided that his name had been corrupted when his ancestors immigrated, and that his name should be Carlov. He changed it to Carlov with the Mensa main office. Then he decided it should really be VonCarlov. Another change. Then he decided he was by inheritance a baron, so he wanted Mensa mail to be addressed to Baron VonCarlov. Further enhancements ensued. At some point, the main office said enough already, and refused to make further changes. But, he wanted to be Baron VonCarlov everywhere he could be, and he was. Likewise, I suppose someone could get away with adding "Esq." or "Atty" after their name if they want, without a problem, as long as they don't give legal advice.
You know, I'm not really sure I want to do this. It seems like so much trouble, so much potential for rejection. I feel like I have to, though. I don't want to go back into the funk I had been in, before the frog prince kissed the sleeping beauty and awakened her. That would be so easy.... Just to go back to sleep.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
#511 Onward!
Well, I responded to the anonymous attorney's wink, and he responded to my email (through the dating site, so there's no personal information attached), and he sent me his telephone number and asked me to call.
Being me, I did a reverse search on the phone number, and guess what? I now have his full name and home address, and he really IS an attorney in private practice in Poughkeepsie. I have no fear of meeting him now. (Except for the fact that he wants "unique beauty and class". Well, I'm certainly unique. Class? Snort!)
And you're not going to believe this coincidence - his home is next door to where Roman once lived. I doubt they have met, but lemme tellya, that totally freaked me out.
I haven't called yet. I'm a little nervous about it. I'm not very good at cold conversation.
Being me, I did a reverse search on the phone number, and guess what? I now have his full name and home address, and he really IS an attorney in private practice in Poughkeepsie. I have no fear of meeting him now. (Except for the fact that he wants "unique beauty and class". Well, I'm certainly unique. Class? Snort!)
And you're not going to believe this coincidence - his home is next door to where Roman once lived. I doubt they have met, but lemme tellya, that totally freaked me out.
I haven't called yet. I'm a little nervous about it. I'm not very good at cold conversation.
Friday, January 06, 2006
#510 Taking the Next Step
I released my online dating profile on a major site last night. I've already received a "wink" from a lawyer in Poughkeepsie. This could be fun.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
#509 The Healing Begins.
Ok, now I'm mad.
He probably thinks his nose is clean because he never made any commitments to me, and made it clear that he was not in commitment mode. Although he signed his cards "With Love", he told me he loved me only twice, and then he was careful to add "but not as much as you want". He said things like "I didn't want to say it because you would make more of it than it is." So he probably thinks he was clear and definite. Aboveboard. Never misled me.
Is he really unaware that actions speak louder than words? All those times when it was so obvious that he was truly happy to see me? When I got buried in huge hugs? All the kisses on the top of my head in public places? All that pressing against cars in restaurant parking lots when we were going home separately after a dinner? The "with love" cards? The times when we had a bad spot, and the next time he saw me he'd rush to me and wrap me in his arms, and say he'd been worried about me? When he tried to make my birthday special (which incidentally, is the day after hers, near the end of October)? All those sweet sweet kisses? When I said goodbye to him at the airport in August (two separate sets of goodbyes), when he held me like he was reluctant to leave, and others there thought we were having such great difficulty tearing ourselves away from each other? When he held my thigh possessively when we sat next to each other in restaurants and at Mensa events, until I asked him not to? The time he teleported himself across a classroom because he thought I might be ill? When he seemed to need and appreciate my love? Does he really think that meant nothing to me? I was aware he had been emotionally battered over the past few years. I naturally assumed he was just being cautious. He kept telling me that he wanted to know "the real me", that he didn't want me to show one side and then change later. Another indication to me that he was being cautious, but was truly interested in me.
So no, he wasn't being clear and definite. He was being devious and cruel. And it was very unfair of him to put me in the position he ultimately did, which guaranteed he'd see my worst side, the jealousy, anger, frustration, and bitterness, and then judge me on that. Especially since she doesn't know about me, so she's still all sweetness. Very unfair. (I'm willing to bet that she sensed his attention drifting back in the beginning, and became sweeter to pull him back.)
Another thing to be angry about is that a few weeks ago, I asked him that if we ever decided not to "see" each other again, that we talk about it in person, not by email or telephone. He said of course, that he would owe me at least that courtesy, that consideration. Those were just about his exact words. He reacted like it was a given. Like how could I think he'd do otherwise. So how did he tell me that he wants to "take a break"? By telephone. So much for courtesy and consideration "owed". He owes me a lot more than that! (Heh. Maybe this means we're not really parting ways, huh? Just a recess, maybe, because he hasn't made it official by saying it in person? Bull poopy.)
In the previous entry I mentioned a friend who had told me about the other woman in mid-October. Another friend who was concerned about me had him investigated, and although this person gave me no details then, just dropped a lot of hints, I was very strongly warned against involvement with him. That was late October, when he was still romancing me, and I couldn't believe otherwise. I guess I have some people around me who care. (On the other hand, friends warned me against Jay, too, and their fears proved groundless.)
And yes, I did go back for the details, later. When it hurt too much not knowing for sure. And I didn't tell Roman all I knew. I needed to hear it from him. So I kept things from him, too, but ironically it was the same things he was keeping from me.
There's one more thing. Among all these facts, this one thing, a mere suspicion, supported by absolutely nothing, hurts the most and makes me most angry. I had brought home two soft purple teddy bears from Daughter's birthday party, and I gave one of them to him. He said he'd never had a teddy bear before and seemed tickled. He put it on top of the microwave, right next to his back door. It was there during my next three visits or so, and then it disappeared. He says he has no idea what happened to it, that perhaps a guest of his housemate had taken it. Or maybe he took it upstairs to his room and misplaced it. The housemate, when asked, said he noticed it was missing one day, too, but that he didn't see how anyone could have taken it. Well, the date it disappeared coincides pretty neatly with what I later found out to be her birthday. The day before mine. The thought that he may have given the bear to her hurts. The idea that I would actually suspect him of that hurts even more to admit. He mostly didn't tell me the whole truth about a lot of things, but at least he never actually lied to me either. The suspicion that he may have lied about this hurts most of all, because then I have to wonder if I ever knew him at all. I gave him a piece of me. I don't want him giving her a piece of me. I want that bear back.
Why am I putting this into a public journal?
Because, if given the opportunity, I may backslide. And if I am tempted, I need to know that you, my friends and family, will slap me soundly upside the head. Repeatedly, if necessary.
He probably thinks his nose is clean because he never made any commitments to me, and made it clear that he was not in commitment mode. Although he signed his cards "With Love", he told me he loved me only twice, and then he was careful to add "but not as much as you want". He said things like "I didn't want to say it because you would make more of it than it is." So he probably thinks he was clear and definite. Aboveboard. Never misled me.
Is he really unaware that actions speak louder than words? All those times when it was so obvious that he was truly happy to see me? When I got buried in huge hugs? All the kisses on the top of my head in public places? All that pressing against cars in restaurant parking lots when we were going home separately after a dinner? The "with love" cards? The times when we had a bad spot, and the next time he saw me he'd rush to me and wrap me in his arms, and say he'd been worried about me? When he tried to make my birthday special (which incidentally, is the day after hers, near the end of October)? All those sweet sweet kisses? When I said goodbye to him at the airport in August (two separate sets of goodbyes), when he held me like he was reluctant to leave, and others there thought we were having such great difficulty tearing ourselves away from each other? When he held my thigh possessively when we sat next to each other in restaurants and at Mensa events, until I asked him not to? The time he teleported himself across a classroom because he thought I might be ill? When he seemed to need and appreciate my love? Does he really think that meant nothing to me? I was aware he had been emotionally battered over the past few years. I naturally assumed he was just being cautious. He kept telling me that he wanted to know "the real me", that he didn't want me to show one side and then change later. Another indication to me that he was being cautious, but was truly interested in me.
So no, he wasn't being clear and definite. He was being devious and cruel. And it was very unfair of him to put me in the position he ultimately did, which guaranteed he'd see my worst side, the jealousy, anger, frustration, and bitterness, and then judge me on that. Especially since she doesn't know about me, so she's still all sweetness. Very unfair. (I'm willing to bet that she sensed his attention drifting back in the beginning, and became sweeter to pull him back.)
Another thing to be angry about is that a few weeks ago, I asked him that if we ever decided not to "see" each other again, that we talk about it in person, not by email or telephone. He said of course, that he would owe me at least that courtesy, that consideration. Those were just about his exact words. He reacted like it was a given. Like how could I think he'd do otherwise. So how did he tell me that he wants to "take a break"? By telephone. So much for courtesy and consideration "owed". He owes me a lot more than that! (Heh. Maybe this means we're not really parting ways, huh? Just a recess, maybe, because he hasn't made it official by saying it in person? Bull poopy.)
In the previous entry I mentioned a friend who had told me about the other woman in mid-October. Another friend who was concerned about me had him investigated, and although this person gave me no details then, just dropped a lot of hints, I was very strongly warned against involvement with him. That was late October, when he was still romancing me, and I couldn't believe otherwise. I guess I have some people around me who care. (On the other hand, friends warned me against Jay, too, and their fears proved groundless.)
And yes, I did go back for the details, later. When it hurt too much not knowing for sure. And I didn't tell Roman all I knew. I needed to hear it from him. So I kept things from him, too, but ironically it was the same things he was keeping from me.
There's one more thing. Among all these facts, this one thing, a mere suspicion, supported by absolutely nothing, hurts the most and makes me most angry. I had brought home two soft purple teddy bears from Daughter's birthday party, and I gave one of them to him. He said he'd never had a teddy bear before and seemed tickled. He put it on top of the microwave, right next to his back door. It was there during my next three visits or so, and then it disappeared. He says he has no idea what happened to it, that perhaps a guest of his housemate had taken it. Or maybe he took it upstairs to his room and misplaced it. The housemate, when asked, said he noticed it was missing one day, too, but that he didn't see how anyone could have taken it. Well, the date it disappeared coincides pretty neatly with what I later found out to be her birthday. The day before mine. The thought that he may have given the bear to her hurts. The idea that I would actually suspect him of that hurts even more to admit. He mostly didn't tell me the whole truth about a lot of things, but at least he never actually lied to me either. The suspicion that he may have lied about this hurts most of all, because then I have to wonder if I ever knew him at all. I gave him a piece of me. I don't want him giving her a piece of me. I want that bear back.
Why am I putting this into a public journal?
Because, if given the opportunity, I may backslide. And if I am tempted, I need to know that you, my friends and family, will slap me soundly upside the head. Repeatedly, if necessary.
#508 Taking a Break
Well, Roman and I are "taking a break". Of course, we know what that really means.
This came out of a phone conversation last night. He brought it up, but I wasn't at all surprised. I had pushed a lot of buttons Monday and Tuesday that I knew I shouldn't have, and for the first time ever I craved cigarettes while I was with him. That means that whatever morphine-related chemical he had been generating in my brain wasn't getting generated any more. I still have very warm and soft feelings for him (especially when I see his smile), but I'm tired of the anger and frustration, the half-truths, the crumbs of time. I'm tired of feeling like a mistress to a married man. I'm tired of feeling second-best. I had told him on Monday that I wasn't looking for anything more for us, even if it didn't work out with the other woman, because I would always feel like second best with him.
I still love him, but it's a standing-away kind of love. I wish him love and happiness in his future, but I don't think he's ever going to find what he wants, needs, and deserves. He knows there's something important missing in his relationship with the other woman, but I guess he thinks it can still happen. After 3 years? He dreams. And one day he will wake up and realize that, and it will be too late to get out of it. I think he's the kind of guy who can't leave one woman until he has another all lined up, and this means he goes from hasty choice to hasty choice, and suffers all over again. But he has to make his own choices, and live with them. I can accept that. That is his fate. Only he can change it.
What amazes me is that I am so calm about it. I haven't cried, and I haven't wanted to. Not ten minutes after he and I ended our call, Jay's eldest sister called, and I told her the whole story. I've always been able to talk with her. It was a very fortunate call. It allowed me to decompress. I even slept well last night.
I admit I am still very angry with him for the way he "rushed" me through late July, August, September, and October. The romance and affection were extreme. A whirlwind. I was very susceptible because there had been no one since Jay, and because I already knew him and knew that I liked him and admired his mind.
He even went through that phase of new love, where you convince yourself and your partner that "this is fate, it was always meant to be", when he told me over and over how he remembered me from a chance meeting in the early 80s, had often thought of me, and then had transferred into my department in the early 90s because he saw my name on the organization chart, and had wanted to get to know me better, but was disappointed when I was so involved with Jay then. Crap like that can turn a gal's head. And bend her heart near to breaking. And the kicker is that the whole time he was romancing me, he was still working on the other woman. THAT's the stinking part.
A friend who knows her, and knew about her and him, told me in mid-October all about her and what was going on, mid-October when I was falling very hard for him, but I thought then that it was old news. That it was pretty much off. It wasn't until he confessed to me in November that I realized that it really truly was still going on and that he had purposely misled me.
So, yeah, I'm angry. Not at his wanting to "take a break", I am ready for that too, I sent him an email Tuesday evening, the night before his call, that pretty much said the same thing, in gentler terms. That I wanted to get back to friendship. I wanted to see him more but on less intimate terms. My version of "taking a break". Cool off.
I am angry at his ever toying with me in the first place. He wasn't serious. He didn't give me a chance, and I doubt that he ever meant to. He wasn't fair and honest. And after I found out what was going on with her, I was a little crazed, which destroyed any chance I may have had with him anyway. I just couldn't believe anyone could do that to me. Not someone whom up to that point I had respected.
I would like to keep the friendship. I still care for him. He can't help it if he's a klutz about his life. I will still see him around occasionally, even if unplanned. Worse, I am registered in a class in February that I do want to take that he's teaching. At some point I'll stop reacting to his smile, and then I'd like to be able to call on him when I need his expertise, and I'd like to be available to him if he ever needs me.
But I will no longer be available to provide the missing pieces in his relationship. It's not good for me or him.
I'm not completely over him, of course. That will take a while. If he came to me and said that the other woman is finally out of his life, and he'd like to try again, then maybe, maybe. Maybe with extreme caution. He's so intelligent, and so damn affectionate, and so very very good in the sack. He's not callous. He's just an emotional mess. He has a good and loving soul somewhere down deep inside there, under all the hurt and pain.
Getting beyond thinking like that is going to take a while.
This came out of a phone conversation last night. He brought it up, but I wasn't at all surprised. I had pushed a lot of buttons Monday and Tuesday that I knew I shouldn't have, and for the first time ever I craved cigarettes while I was with him. That means that whatever morphine-related chemical he had been generating in my brain wasn't getting generated any more. I still have very warm and soft feelings for him (especially when I see his smile), but I'm tired of the anger and frustration, the half-truths, the crumbs of time. I'm tired of feeling like a mistress to a married man. I'm tired of feeling second-best. I had told him on Monday that I wasn't looking for anything more for us, even if it didn't work out with the other woman, because I would always feel like second best with him.
I still love him, but it's a standing-away kind of love. I wish him love and happiness in his future, but I don't think he's ever going to find what he wants, needs, and deserves. He knows there's something important missing in his relationship with the other woman, but I guess he thinks it can still happen. After 3 years? He dreams. And one day he will wake up and realize that, and it will be too late to get out of it. I think he's the kind of guy who can't leave one woman until he has another all lined up, and this means he goes from hasty choice to hasty choice, and suffers all over again. But he has to make his own choices, and live with them. I can accept that. That is his fate. Only he can change it.
What amazes me is that I am so calm about it. I haven't cried, and I haven't wanted to. Not ten minutes after he and I ended our call, Jay's eldest sister called, and I told her the whole story. I've always been able to talk with her. It was a very fortunate call. It allowed me to decompress. I even slept well last night.
I admit I am still very angry with him for the way he "rushed" me through late July, August, September, and October. The romance and affection were extreme. A whirlwind. I was very susceptible because there had been no one since Jay, and because I already knew him and knew that I liked him and admired his mind.
He even went through that phase of new love, where you convince yourself and your partner that "this is fate, it was always meant to be", when he told me over and over how he remembered me from a chance meeting in the early 80s, had often thought of me, and then had transferred into my department in the early 90s because he saw my name on the organization chart, and had wanted to get to know me better, but was disappointed when I was so involved with Jay then. Crap like that can turn a gal's head. And bend her heart near to breaking. And the kicker is that the whole time he was romancing me, he was still working on the other woman. THAT's the stinking part.
A friend who knows her, and knew about her and him, told me in mid-October all about her and what was going on, mid-October when I was falling very hard for him, but I thought then that it was old news. That it was pretty much off. It wasn't until he confessed to me in November that I realized that it really truly was still going on and that he had purposely misled me.
So, yeah, I'm angry. Not at his wanting to "take a break", I am ready for that too, I sent him an email Tuesday evening, the night before his call, that pretty much said the same thing, in gentler terms. That I wanted to get back to friendship. I wanted to see him more but on less intimate terms. My version of "taking a break". Cool off.
I am angry at his ever toying with me in the first place. He wasn't serious. He didn't give me a chance, and I doubt that he ever meant to. He wasn't fair and honest. And after I found out what was going on with her, I was a little crazed, which destroyed any chance I may have had with him anyway. I just couldn't believe anyone could do that to me. Not someone whom up to that point I had respected.
I would like to keep the friendship. I still care for him. He can't help it if he's a klutz about his life. I will still see him around occasionally, even if unplanned. Worse, I am registered in a class in February that I do want to take that he's teaching. At some point I'll stop reacting to his smile, and then I'd like to be able to call on him when I need his expertise, and I'd like to be available to him if he ever needs me.
But I will no longer be available to provide the missing pieces in his relationship. It's not good for me or him.
I'm not completely over him, of course. That will take a while. If he came to me and said that the other woman is finally out of his life, and he'd like to try again, then maybe, maybe. Maybe with extreme caution. He's so intelligent, and so damn affectionate, and so very very good in the sack. He's not callous. He's just an emotional mess. He has a good and loving soul somewhere down deep inside there, under all the hurt and pain.
Getting beyond thinking like that is going to take a while.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
#507 Tired. $400 Worth.
At noon today I headed out in search of new tires. By 4 pm I was tired, tired, and $400 poorer. The new tires are "rated" for 70,000 miles. I'll be happy if they last 50k.
When I asked if I could get 4 new tires and an alignment "right now", the dealer said yeah, no problem.
Problem.
They couldn't get the van onto the "alignment machine", whatever that is, because there was some kind of something or other that caught on the dropped floor of the van (the notorious mere 4 inches of clearance - I have the same problem with automatic carwashes). So he called their store in Kingston, and they didn't think they could do it either. I called around myself. A garage in Red Hook that is familiar with the van from other visits thought maybe they could, with some kind of ramp arrangement, so I've got an appointment for the 13th. As in Friday the 13th. A week and a half away.
So I told them to go ahead and put the new tires on, and I'll figure out the alignment later. The folks I ordered the van through will probably know where I can get it done for sure, they handle a lot of Braun conversions, but they're still on vacation.
Problem.
They couldn't get the van on a lift. They had to jack it up and do each side individually.
But I guess I wasn't the worst problem they had today. While I was waiting, a truck pulled in with the biggest travel trailer I've ever seen, one of those gazillion-wheeled jobbies. They had a flat tire on the trailer. I bet that was fun. I'll bet it wouldn't go on a lift, either.
Then I stopped at the post office and picked up a gift that had been waiting for me since last week. One of Jay's sisters has sent me the most gorgeous velour robe, royal purple (that seems to be my new color - everything's coming up purple), and it is exquisitely soft. I've never felt a robe so light and soft. I've never even felt a sweater so soft, not even silk or cashmere.
I got home at 4:30 and started clearing the remainder of the driveway. The snow was that solid packed stuff that makes nice igloo blocks, about 10 inches of it. I was so happy that the extension cord reached from the garage to the edge of the plowed section. There was no way I could have gotten the snowthrower over the plow piles to get it any closer.
It normally takes me 1 to 1.5 hours to clear the entire driveway. All I had to do this evening was half the flat part at the top, and it took me over an hour. The snow was so dense, I had to keep stopping to allow the auger to chew its way through. And this is a BIG machine.
(Something very strange - I just did a spellcheck, and although it highlighted several words, I opted to change nothing. Then, when I got out of spellcheck and read the entry again, I found that "snowthrower", in the second paragraph up from here, had been changed to "contrariety". Huh? It may be an accurate synonym, but how did spellchecker know that? (And how the heck did it get "contrariety" from "snowthrower", anyway?)) I don't understand....
Later update - the 10 inches of snow was an estimate. I just measured. It was 13 inches. For some reason, our street gets more snow than just below the hill on the highway. We are high, but not that high, so I don't know why. And before anyone yells at me, yes, I have had alignments before - at least two, possibly three on this van, I just don't remember where.
When I asked if I could get 4 new tires and an alignment "right now", the dealer said yeah, no problem.
Problem.
They couldn't get the van onto the "alignment machine", whatever that is, because there was some kind of something or other that caught on the dropped floor of the van (the notorious mere 4 inches of clearance - I have the same problem with automatic carwashes). So he called their store in Kingston, and they didn't think they could do it either. I called around myself. A garage in Red Hook that is familiar with the van from other visits thought maybe they could, with some kind of ramp arrangement, so I've got an appointment for the 13th. As in Friday the 13th. A week and a half away.
So I told them to go ahead and put the new tires on, and I'll figure out the alignment later. The folks I ordered the van through will probably know where I can get it done for sure, they handle a lot of Braun conversions, but they're still on vacation.
Problem.
They couldn't get the van on a lift. They had to jack it up and do each side individually.
But I guess I wasn't the worst problem they had today. While I was waiting, a truck pulled in with the biggest travel trailer I've ever seen, one of those gazillion-wheeled jobbies. They had a flat tire on the trailer. I bet that was fun. I'll bet it wouldn't go on a lift, either.
Then I stopped at the post office and picked up a gift that had been waiting for me since last week. One of Jay's sisters has sent me the most gorgeous velour robe, royal purple (that seems to be my new color - everything's coming up purple), and it is exquisitely soft. I've never felt a robe so light and soft. I've never even felt a sweater so soft, not even silk or cashmere.
I got home at 4:30 and started clearing the remainder of the driveway. The snow was that solid packed stuff that makes nice igloo blocks, about 10 inches of it. I was so happy that the extension cord reached from the garage to the edge of the plowed section. There was no way I could have gotten the snowthrower over the plow piles to get it any closer.
It normally takes me 1 to 1.5 hours to clear the entire driveway. All I had to do this evening was half the flat part at the top, and it took me over an hour. The snow was so dense, I had to keep stopping to allow the auger to chew its way through. And this is a BIG machine.
(Something very strange - I just did a spellcheck, and although it highlighted several words, I opted to change nothing. Then, when I got out of spellcheck and read the entry again, I found that "snowthrower", in the second paragraph up from here, had been changed to "contrariety". Huh? It may be an accurate synonym, but how did spellchecker know that? (And how the heck did it get "contrariety" from "snowthrower", anyway?)) I don't understand....
Later update - the 10 inches of snow was an estimate. I just measured. It was 13 inches. For some reason, our street gets more snow than just below the hill on the highway. We are high, but not that high, so I don't know why. And before anyone yells at me, yes, I have had alignments before - at least two, possibly three on this van, I just don't remember where.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
#506 Home, to Snow/Slush
I'm home again. I went to LaGrange yesterday about 1 pm, and stayed until about 6:30 this evening. Ten inches of snow on top of freezing rain was predicted, so I loaded the snowthrower into the van and took it with me. It would make quick work of Roman's driveway. I stopped on the way and arranged for the Hairless Hunk to plow the main part of my drive so that I could get the van (and snowthrower) up when I got home.
The storm started last night with mixed rain, sleet, and snow, and continued all night. I was surprised that in the morning there was only about two inches of very wet slush on the driveway. Then today there were light snow showers all day. But again, there was very little accumulation on the ground, although there were maybe 4 inches of mushy snow on the deck.
Imagine my surprise when I got home and found somewhere between 8 and 10 inches of heavy wet snow in the driveway. A path had been plowed to the top, and the plow heaps were higher than the hood of the van. As requested, HH had not plowed most of the flat area at the top (although he had to do some to be able to turn his truck around).
I guess we did get a little more than LaGrange got.
I'll have to finish it with the snowthrower tomorrow. I hope it doesn't freeze solid overnight. I could have a real mess out there.
Also tomorrow I have to do something about the tires on the van. When I drove to New Jersey back before Christmas, I noticed that at about 63 mph the front and the steering wheel were shimmying. I assumed it was the alignment or something. But it has been getting worse. Now it shimmies badly below 35 and above 45. Roman looked at the tires and found a 1-inch jagged tear in the driver's side front tire sidewall. Very strange. How could that happen? Now I'm worried that maybe a belt has shifted? I drove all the way home from LaGrange this evening at 40-45 mph. It took an hour. So not only did I drive home slowly, I had a steel grip on the steering wheel.
There's been something wrong with those tires since day one. They have worn very badly on the outside edges of the tread, but they were never underinflated. They have less than 40,000 miles on them. I think tomorrow I'll replace at least the front two. Next summer, the rear two.
I overstayed my welcome in LaGrange, I think. If we don't have to get out because he has to go to work, that happens. I'm such a pain sometimes. Well, maybe usually. I can't seem to let things go. I attack his reticence. And I can't seem to say goodbye because it's like I'm afraid one of these days he'll come to his senses and this will be the last I see of him. So, I sense he's anxious to get to other matters, and my presence distracts him he says, no matter how I try to stay out of his way, and then I turn kittenish and outrageous, and then things spin out of control. I hate when I do that. But it had been two weeks since I'd seen him last, and I was starving. I don't think he understands that.
.... My insecurities are showing.
To bed early tonight. I hope I can get to sleep in decent time. Much work to do tomorrow.
The storm started last night with mixed rain, sleet, and snow, and continued all night. I was surprised that in the morning there was only about two inches of very wet slush on the driveway. Then today there were light snow showers all day. But again, there was very little accumulation on the ground, although there were maybe 4 inches of mushy snow on the deck.
Imagine my surprise when I got home and found somewhere between 8 and 10 inches of heavy wet snow in the driveway. A path had been plowed to the top, and the plow heaps were higher than the hood of the van. As requested, HH had not plowed most of the flat area at the top (although he had to do some to be able to turn his truck around).
I guess we did get a little more than LaGrange got.
I'll have to finish it with the snowthrower tomorrow. I hope it doesn't freeze solid overnight. I could have a real mess out there.
Also tomorrow I have to do something about the tires on the van. When I drove to New Jersey back before Christmas, I noticed that at about 63 mph the front and the steering wheel were shimmying. I assumed it was the alignment or something. But it has been getting worse. Now it shimmies badly below 35 and above 45. Roman looked at the tires and found a 1-inch jagged tear in the driver's side front tire sidewall. Very strange. How could that happen? Now I'm worried that maybe a belt has shifted? I drove all the way home from LaGrange this evening at 40-45 mph. It took an hour. So not only did I drive home slowly, I had a steel grip on the steering wheel.
There's been something wrong with those tires since day one. They have worn very badly on the outside edges of the tread, but they were never underinflated. They have less than 40,000 miles on them. I think tomorrow I'll replace at least the front two. Next summer, the rear two.
I overstayed my welcome in LaGrange, I think. If we don't have to get out because he has to go to work, that happens. I'm such a pain sometimes. Well, maybe usually. I can't seem to let things go. I attack his reticence. And I can't seem to say goodbye because it's like I'm afraid one of these days he'll come to his senses and this will be the last I see of him. So, I sense he's anxious to get to other matters, and my presence distracts him he says, no matter how I try to stay out of his way, and then I turn kittenish and outrageous, and then things spin out of control. I hate when I do that. But it had been two weeks since I'd seen him last, and I was starving. I don't think he understands that.
.... My insecurities are showing.
To bed early tonight. I hope I can get to sleep in decent time. Much work to do tomorrow.
Monday, January 02, 2006
#505 Satin Sheets to Lie On
I put satin sheets on my bed Saturday night. Not because I wanted satin sheets, but because there weren't any clean cotton sets.
Back when I bought them, a year or so ago, someone had told me not to get the woven satin ones because they were too hot and too slippery. They said to get the knit satin. So I did. This is the first time I've used them.
If this is less slippery, I don't want to think about the others!
The bottom sheet is fitted, and the top sheet has a fitted foot, which is nice. I have a feather bed on top of the mattress, under the bottom sheet, and a lofty down comforter over the top sheet.
I spent Saturday night chasing the comforter around the bedroom.
The top sheet slides off the bottom, and the comforter slides off the top sheet. The fitting at the foot of the top sheet doesn't help any. And since when I had changed the sheets I had fluffed up the feather bed, if I got too close to the edge of the bed, I slid out. And the pillows kept escaping.
Miss Thunderfoot likes them even less. When she jumps up on the bed, the whole surface slides. She got dumped twice, and now she asks me to lift her up.
I gotta wash those cotton sheets SOON!
Back when I bought them, a year or so ago, someone had told me not to get the woven satin ones because they were too hot and too slippery. They said to get the knit satin. So I did. This is the first time I've used them.
If this is less slippery, I don't want to think about the others!
The bottom sheet is fitted, and the top sheet has a fitted foot, which is nice. I have a feather bed on top of the mattress, under the bottom sheet, and a lofty down comforter over the top sheet.
I spent Saturday night chasing the comforter around the bedroom.
The top sheet slides off the bottom, and the comforter slides off the top sheet. The fitting at the foot of the top sheet doesn't help any. And since when I had changed the sheets I had fluffed up the feather bed, if I got too close to the edge of the bed, I slid out. And the pillows kept escaping.
Miss Thunderfoot likes them even less. When she jumps up on the bed, the whole surface slides. She got dumped twice, and now she asks me to lift her up.
I gotta wash those cotton sheets SOON!
Sunday, January 01, 2006
#504 Did You Eat Your Sauerkraut Today?
Yup. Sauerkraut on New Year's Day. Ensures luck for the year. Family tradition. I made it with kielbasa. Yummy. I'm spending the day with Roman tomorrow. Hmmmm. Kielbasa and sauerkraut may be a mistake.
The first thing I did today was clear the driveway. It went really fast this time.
You have to get the hand rhythm on that thing. The thingy to make the wheels go is on the right handlebar, the thingy to make the screws go is on the left handlebar, and the shift is across the middle. Shift into 3-forward. Squeeze with the left hand to engage the screws. Squeeze with the right hand to engage the wheels. Go forward. *Release right hand. When chute is empty, release left hand (screws must be disengaged to shift, and must remain disengaged when in reverse). Shift into reverse. Squeeze right hand. DO NOT squeeze left hand. Back up. Release right hand. Shift into 3-forward. Squeeze left hand. Squeeze right hand. Go forward. Repeat from *.
A problem I've had in the past is that I forget to release the left hand when shifting and when in reverse. I guess because it seems most normal to shift with the right, the left hand has nothing to do, so it just keeps holding the thingy down. Today I pretended to be left-handed, and I shifted with the left hand, and that cured my problem.
Within three or four stiff shifts, it seems to have also cured the snowthrower's problem. We really worked like a team today! So to reward it, I went out and bought it some fresh gas.
Yummy.
The first thing I did today was clear the driveway. It went really fast this time.
You have to get the hand rhythm on that thing. The thingy to make the wheels go is on the right handlebar, the thingy to make the screws go is on the left handlebar, and the shift is across the middle. Shift into 3-forward. Squeeze with the left hand to engage the screws. Squeeze with the right hand to engage the wheels. Go forward. *Release right hand. When chute is empty, release left hand (screws must be disengaged to shift, and must remain disengaged when in reverse). Shift into reverse. Squeeze right hand. DO NOT squeeze left hand. Back up. Release right hand. Shift into 3-forward. Squeeze left hand. Squeeze right hand. Go forward. Repeat from *.
A problem I've had in the past is that I forget to release the left hand when shifting and when in reverse. I guess because it seems most normal to shift with the right, the left hand has nothing to do, so it just keeps holding the thingy down. Today I pretended to be left-handed, and I shifted with the left hand, and that cured my problem.
Within three or four stiff shifts, it seems to have also cured the snowthrower's problem. We really worked like a team today! So to reward it, I went out and bought it some fresh gas.
Yummy.
Saturday, December 31, 2005
#503 NO plans for the Evening!
Well, I didn't have to work up any enthusiasm after all. I looked out the front door at about 4 pm, and there was a dusting of snow. But then it stopped, and I thought, well, ok, that's not a show stopper. A 6:30 pm I heard very loud strange thumpings and bangings and crashings out front, and I looked out the door in time to see the town plowtruck wending its way from mailbox to mailbox gathering crash points. And four inches of snow on the ground. (I hope my mailbox survived....) Now, THAT's the show stopper. The party is a good 40 minute drive away, through woods. If the snow keeps up I wouldn't be able to get up my street, let alone the driveway, when I got home.
(The thermometer on the door says 40 degrees. Nothing nicer on a 350' driveway than frozen slush.)
Well, at least my hair is clean.
But what am I going to do with three bottles of champagne and a bowl of pomegranate sections?
(The thermometer on the door says 40 degrees. Nothing nicer on a 350' driveway than frozen slush.)
Well, at least my hair is clean.
But what am I going to do with three bottles of champagne and a bowl of pomegranate sections?
#502 Plans for the Evening?
In an effort to fix whatever is wrong with the formatting of this journal on AOL, I changed to use a different template (photo, profile, and links on the left, different colors, etc - you just choose one from a selection offered by Blogger). It not only didn't work, it is now broken on Netscape, too! The photo came out on the top left ok, but the profile and links were way down on the bottom. Sigh. I don't understand. I'm going back to the old template. You'll probably see it in a few hours.
I'm half considering going to a party tonight. Depends on whether I can get to the stores in time to pick up something decent to contribute, and whether I can get some stuff finished that has to be done by Monday. And my hair washed. And some kind of enthusiasm worked up.
Piper is going to want some specific stock info early next week - he told me there'd be quarterly reports arriving in December (most of the stock we want to sell is "book entry", no certificates) and I should save the reports for him. Well, I ain't seen no quarterly reports! I'll have to dig and see what I can find of some old ones.
~~Silk
I'm half considering going to a party tonight. Depends on whether I can get to the stores in time to pick up something decent to contribute, and whether I can get some stuff finished that has to be done by Monday. And my hair washed. And some kind of enthusiasm worked up.
Piper is going to want some specific stock info early next week - he told me there'd be quarterly reports arriving in December (most of the stock we want to sell is "book entry", no certificates) and I should save the reports for him. Well, I ain't seen no quarterly reports! I'll have to dig and see what I can find of some old ones.
~~Silk
Friday, December 30, 2005
#501 Why I Need TV
Daughter, you will be thrilled to know that I haven't had a television set on for more than 6 hours total in the past several weeks. The latest Survivor and The Amazing Race ended, and PBS has been screwing around with the schedules and obsessed with the holidays, so I can't get my Ballykissangel fix, so one day I didn't turn a TV on, and haven't much since.
I used to say that living alone, I needed a television on in the background to remind me of time passing, otherwise I'd get lost in time and space. Well, that's true to some degree. Used to be when I heard the pretty lady judge's voice, I automatically started looking for something to eat. When I heard the late night shows, I started thinking about bed.
Now, without the TV, I often discover that it's 11 pm and I haven't eaten anything all day. And 3 am comes on surprisingly fast. But that's not the biggest problem!
I have rediscovered why I need voices in the background.
It keeps the music out of my brain.
You know how sometimes you get a song stuck in your head, and it keeps playing over and over? I get that in spades! When it's quiet in the house, whatever was the last piece of music I heard keeps running through my head. Classical, folk, belly dance, carols in a store, instrumental or voice, it doesn't matter. Sometimes it's so strong and so loud I can't think of anything else. It's driving me batty. One day without thinking I played the Tibetan singing bowls CD in the van as I was heading home, and that night I was ready to shoot myself. The past three days it's been Joan Baez's Please Come to Boston.
Having the TV or talk radio on keeps it at bay.
I refuse to give in to it. I won't be forced to turn the TV or radio on.
I'm trying an experiment this evening. I loaded the CD player with five hours of mixed genres, set it for random, and we'll see what happens.
If you find me on your doorstep in the middle of the night, screaming "Make it stop! Make it stop!", you'll know it backfired.
~~Silk
I used to say that living alone, I needed a television on in the background to remind me of time passing, otherwise I'd get lost in time and space. Well, that's true to some degree. Used to be when I heard the pretty lady judge's voice, I automatically started looking for something to eat. When I heard the late night shows, I started thinking about bed.
Now, without the TV, I often discover that it's 11 pm and I haven't eaten anything all day. And 3 am comes on surprisingly fast. But that's not the biggest problem!
I have rediscovered why I need voices in the background.
It keeps the music out of my brain.
You know how sometimes you get a song stuck in your head, and it keeps playing over and over? I get that in spades! When it's quiet in the house, whatever was the last piece of music I heard keeps running through my head. Classical, folk, belly dance, carols in a store, instrumental or voice, it doesn't matter. Sometimes it's so strong and so loud I can't think of anything else. It's driving me batty. One day without thinking I played the Tibetan singing bowls CD in the van as I was heading home, and that night I was ready to shoot myself. The past three days it's been Joan Baez's Please Come to Boston.
Having the TV or talk radio on keeps it at bay.
I refuse to give in to it. I won't be forced to turn the TV or radio on.
I'm trying an experiment this evening. I loaded the CD player with five hours of mixed genres, set it for random, and we'll see what happens.
If you find me on your doorstep in the middle of the night, screaming "Make it stop! Make it stop!", you'll know it backfired.
~~Silk
#500.3 I Fixed the Missing "About Me"
It was post #495 that was messing up the formatting - AOL as a browser doesn't seem to handle tables very well. I removed the outer table, and I think it's fixed now.
~~Silk
~~Silk
Thursday, December 29, 2005
#500 Searching for...
I have noticed that my journal entries show up in Google searches. Not right away, it takes a while, but eventually. So if I were to put the name of someone I'm looking for in here, and if that person or someone who knows them were to "google" them, they'll see my entry. Wow. A possible source of leads! (I'm finding those stupid people-finder sites to be a waste of time and money. Either they give you a free load of undifferentiated garbage, or they charge you first, then give you garbage.) So, here goes:
I am searching for Raymond S. Gutosky, Raymond Gutosky, Ray Gutosky, born 1943-45, originally from Lopez, Pa., went to Pitt. Univ.
I am searching for Joseph M. Kulsicavage, Joseph Kulsicavage, Joe Kulsicavage, born 1943-45, went to Turnpike HS, Mildred, Pa.
I am searching for Deloris Delovich (maiden name), born 1943-45, originally from Lopez, Pa.
I am searching for Ronald Riordan, Ron Riordan, born 1943-45, went to Turnpike HS, Mildred, Pa.
I am searching for Eugene Richley, Gene Richley, born 1943-45, went to Turnpike HS, Mildred, Pa.
I am searching for Edward Guy Wood, Edward G. Wood, Edward Wood, Ed Wood, born 1943-46, was a member of Washington DC Mensa in the 80s.
I am searching for John Wolford, born 1943-45, went to Benton HS, Benton, Pa.
I am searching for Robert Morris Derrick, Robert M. Derrick, Robert Derrick, Bob Derrick, born 1941-44, originally from Shamokin, Pa, big dimple in his chin. [Update 03/12/10 - I have discovered through the Social Security death lists that Bob Derrick died in the late '90s.]
I am searching for Judy Belcher (maiden name), born 1943-45, went to Benton HS, Benton, Pa.
I am searching for Diane Bithell (maiden name), born 1943-45, originally from Ottawa, Canada.
I guess that'll do it for now. If you have any information on these people, leave me a comment with any details you have. Remember, if there is contact information in the comment, I WILL NOT publish the comment. It will remain private between you and me.
If you and I are searching for the same names, hey, maybe you and I know each other!
If you actually know these people, you could point them to this journal (you can send them the link to this entry, found at the bottom of the entry) instead of sending me info. Maybe they'll recognize the photo (20-40 years later? Yeah, sure!) and they can contact me themselves. Tell them it's the itty bitty gal from the air force base. All but Diane will recognize that description. Tell Diane it's her American friend from the 7th grade.
Thanks.
~~Silk
I am searching for Raymond S. Gutosky, Raymond Gutosky, Ray Gutosky, born 1943-45, originally from Lopez, Pa., went to Pitt. Univ.
I am searching for Joseph M. Kulsicavage, Joseph Kulsicavage, Joe Kulsicavage, born 1943-45, went to Turnpike HS, Mildred, Pa.
I am searching for Deloris Delovich (maiden name), born 1943-45, originally from Lopez, Pa.
I am searching for Ronald Riordan, Ron Riordan, born 1943-45, went to Turnpike HS, Mildred, Pa.
I am searching for Eugene Richley, Gene Richley, born 1943-45, went to Turnpike HS, Mildred, Pa.
I am searching for Edward Guy Wood, Edward G. Wood, Edward Wood, Ed Wood, born 1943-46, was a member of Washington DC Mensa in the 80s.
I am searching for John Wolford, born 1943-45, went to Benton HS, Benton, Pa.
I am searching for Robert Morris Derrick, Robert M. Derrick, Robert Derrick, Bob Derrick, born 1941-44, originally from Shamokin, Pa, big dimple in his chin. [Update 03/12/10 - I have discovered through the Social Security death lists that Bob Derrick died in the late '90s.]
I am searching for Judy Belcher (maiden name), born 1943-45, went to Benton HS, Benton, Pa.
I am searching for Diane Bithell (maiden name), born 1943-45, originally from Ottawa, Canada.
I guess that'll do it for now. If you have any information on these people, leave me a comment with any details you have. Remember, if there is contact information in the comment, I WILL NOT publish the comment. It will remain private between you and me.
If you and I are searching for the same names, hey, maybe you and I know each other!
If you actually know these people, you could point them to this journal (you can send them the link to this entry, found at the bottom of the entry) instead of sending me info. Maybe they'll recognize the photo (20-40 years later? Yeah, sure!) and they can contact me themselves. Tell them it's the itty bitty gal from the air force base. All but Diane will recognize that description. Tell Diane it's her American friend from the 7th grade.
Thanks.
~~Silk
#499 Weird Stuff
I had a terrible time with AOL when I signed in this morning. There was nothing in the mail box (last night there were 40+ emails - most are notes from far-flung friends that I am very late in responding to, bad me), nothing in the "Favorites" list, and both journals were missing from the navigation bar. Whoa!
I went to www.aol.com, and was able to at least get to my mail, but it was awkward. I wondered what was wrong with my AOL.
Several hours and much frustration later I figured it out. Last night, just before shutting down, I had switched from my primary AOL id to an alternate screenname to check something, and hadn't switched back. When AOL came up this morning, it was still under the alternate id. Oops....
There's a new meme going around AOL Journals now - you have to describe five weird habits you have. One woman, for example, eats colored candies (M&Ms, Skittles, etc.) only in a certain color order, and never fewer than two at a time. Yeah, ok, that's weird.
That got me thinking about my weird habits.
I can't think of any! Maybe I have some habits that others don't, but there are very logical reasons (like when I will always choose the route with the fewest turns, even if it's longer, simply because it's easier and I can think about other things), and therefore they're not weird. Or something like that. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Maybe it's that I don't much form habits. Maybe that's my weirdness. Like I don't change the sheets on any kind of schedule - something has to scream at me "Change the sheets you slattern!", like the smell, or the inch of cat hair on them or something. And I don't remember to balance the checkbook. I'm about two years behind on that now. I keep promising myself I will sit down and pay bills etc. on the 1st and the 15th of every month. I've been making that promise for 40 years now, and it rarely happens. Bills sometimes don't get paid until someone threatens to cut something off (like the electricity, or my left pinky finger). And yet I have an excellent credit rating, so there's no incentive to do better. Go figure.
Here's one, maybe: When I stay in a hotel, I clean up after myself better than I do at home. I even make the bed in the morning if I'm going to be there multiple days, and I leave a note to the maid not to bother changing it. That's probably weird.
Another: I'm always late. Even if I leave especially early for some event, something will invariably happen along the way to make me late. It's so bad most of my friends will tell me something is scheduled a half hour earlier than actual, just to give me lead time. But that's not a habit - that's how my life goes!
Not a habit, more a personality quirk: I can't accept anything just because someone says it's so. I have to examine it and question it and touch it and poke it until I fully understand it and absorb it inside myself. When the doctor first gave Jay the brain cancer diagnosis, I asked "What type of cells are involved?", and she answered "That's not something you need to be concerned about. It wouldn't mean anything to you.", and Jay actually stiffened and gasped and grabbed my arm. He knew that's not something anyone can say to me and live.
Can't think of anything else. Anyone? (And don't get smart! I'm moderating comments!)
~~Silk
I went to www.aol.com, and was able to at least get to my mail, but it was awkward. I wondered what was wrong with my AOL.
Several hours and much frustration later I figured it out. Last night, just before shutting down, I had switched from my primary AOL id to an alternate screenname to check something, and hadn't switched back. When AOL came up this morning, it was still under the alternate id. Oops....
There's a new meme going around AOL Journals now - you have to describe five weird habits you have. One woman, for example, eats colored candies (M&Ms, Skittles, etc.) only in a certain color order, and never fewer than two at a time. Yeah, ok, that's weird.
That got me thinking about my weird habits.
I can't think of any! Maybe I have some habits that others don't, but there are very logical reasons (like when I will always choose the route with the fewest turns, even if it's longer, simply because it's easier and I can think about other things), and therefore they're not weird. Or something like that. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Maybe it's that I don't much form habits. Maybe that's my weirdness. Like I don't change the sheets on any kind of schedule - something has to scream at me "Change the sheets you slattern!", like the smell, or the inch of cat hair on them or something. And I don't remember to balance the checkbook. I'm about two years behind on that now. I keep promising myself I will sit down and pay bills etc. on the 1st and the 15th of every month. I've been making that promise for 40 years now, and it rarely happens. Bills sometimes don't get paid until someone threatens to cut something off (like the electricity, or my left pinky finger). And yet I have an excellent credit rating, so there's no incentive to do better. Go figure.
Here's one, maybe: When I stay in a hotel, I clean up after myself better than I do at home. I even make the bed in the morning if I'm going to be there multiple days, and I leave a note to the maid not to bother changing it. That's probably weird.
Another: I'm always late. Even if I leave especially early for some event, something will invariably happen along the way to make me late. It's so bad most of my friends will tell me something is scheduled a half hour earlier than actual, just to give me lead time. But that's not a habit - that's how my life goes!
Not a habit, more a personality quirk: I can't accept anything just because someone says it's so. I have to examine it and question it and touch it and poke it until I fully understand it and absorb it inside myself. When the doctor first gave Jay the brain cancer diagnosis, I asked "What type of cells are involved?", and she answered "That's not something you need to be concerned about. It wouldn't mean anything to you.", and Jay actually stiffened and gasped and grabbed my arm. He knew that's not something anyone can say to me and live.
Can't think of anything else. Anyone? (And don't get smart! I'm moderating comments!)
~~Silk
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
#498 Adversarial Law
Neighbor Nan and I got to talking about mediated divorces yesterday. I complained that as soon as you get two lawyers involved, if things weren't nasty before, they get nasty real quick, because the lawyers aren't really fighting for their clients, they're just fighting to score against each other. Nan said that in Austria, a divorce is handled by one lawyer, who advises both parties on what is equitable, fair, and legal.
That isn't allowed in the US.
I've known a lot of lawyers, and I've found that when you find one who likes to go to court, who looks forward to the fray, he or she is usually less interested in truth and justice, and more interested in simply winning. Regardless of what's right.
I used to laugh at The Company lawyers. When they smelled conflict, you could almost hear the swords rattling against the shields. And once they mounted up, they weren't going to let anything like compromise or offers or new information deter them from battle, from that taste of blood and victory.
In France, according to Jay and his father at least, the object of the courts is to find the truth. Cases are presided over by a panel of judges, who direct the research and investigation, and choose, summon, and question the witnesses. They want the whole truth, not someone's filtered and slanted version of it, and they keep probing until they are satisfied they've got it. Contrast this with American courts, where the object often seems to be to prevent the whole truth from coming out, to pit one attorney's skill at obfuscation and blocking against another's, winner take all.
This means that in the US, the outcome of family, civil, and criminal cases is often determined not by the truth and law, but by whose lawyer could dance faster. Which actually translates to who had the most money. Which explains a lot about the demographics of the prisons.
If I were innocent, I'd want a French court. If I were guilty, I'd want an American court and a rich uncle. That doesn't sound nice at all.
~~Silk
That isn't allowed in the US.
I've known a lot of lawyers, and I've found that when you find one who likes to go to court, who looks forward to the fray, he or she is usually less interested in truth and justice, and more interested in simply winning. Regardless of what's right.
I used to laugh at The Company lawyers. When they smelled conflict, you could almost hear the swords rattling against the shields. And once they mounted up, they weren't going to let anything like compromise or offers or new information deter them from battle, from that taste of blood and victory.
In France, according to Jay and his father at least, the object of the courts is to find the truth. Cases are presided over by a panel of judges, who direct the research and investigation, and choose, summon, and question the witnesses. They want the whole truth, not someone's filtered and slanted version of it, and they keep probing until they are satisfied they've got it. Contrast this with American courts, where the object often seems to be to prevent the whole truth from coming out, to pit one attorney's skill at obfuscation and blocking against another's, winner take all.
This means that in the US, the outcome of family, civil, and criminal cases is often determined not by the truth and law, but by whose lawyer could dance faster. Which actually translates to who had the most money. Which explains a lot about the demographics of the prisons.
If I were innocent, I'd want a French court. If I were guilty, I'd want an American court and a rich uncle. That doesn't sound nice at all.
~~Silk
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
#497 Tea With a Neighbor
My doorbell rang midmorning today, well before I was washed or dressed. There was a woman on my doorstep, gray hair, right arm in a sling. A stranger. No car in the driveway. She introduced herself in a strong Austrian accent, and said that she had wanted to meet me for several years, and here she is. Hello. She pretty much asked me to invite her in for tea.
Huh?
I explained that my house was not in company condition (neither was I at the moment, for that matter) and opened the door a little more to show her. (Eek!) So she invited me to her house, just down the street, for tea, at 3 pm.
Where I got the rest of the story.
Later, much later, like just a few minutes ago, it occurred to me that her presentation at my door was exactly that of those home invasion teams, where a harmless-looking person asks entry, and then lets her cronies in to rob the occupants. At the time, it never occurred to me to wonder what evil weapon she might have had in that sling. Wow. Until a few minutes ago, if it hadn't been for my mess, I could have been easy pickings!
But, of course, that wasn't the case. She was exactly what she claimed to be.
The story: Back in the early summer of 2001, when Jay was blind, partially paralyzed, and in a wheelchair, some neighbors hosted a block party, and Jay and I went. This woman (I'll call her Nan) was living in Brooklyn and visiting friends on our street , and also went to the party. She says she was very struck by the "obvious care, love, and devotion" I showed Jay that day. She never forgot it. She kept going on about it. It impressed her so much she wanted to meet me.
Two years ago, her friends moved, and Nan and her husband bought the house from them and moved up here. She asked around, trying to find out who I was and where I lived, but nobody was sure (this is not really a very neighborly street, everybody works and half the people are seasonal, and I don't get around much), until the Hairless Hunk recognized her description and told her where I lived.
So that's why she appeared on my doorstep.
I stayed only an hour, had to go to the post office and the bank. She had fallen on the ice two weeks ago and broken her wrist - that's why the sling. She can't drive now, so I offered her my services. Dental appointment coming up, she'll call.
She asked how old Jay was when he died, and I said 49, I was 8 years older than he. That surprised her. She said that I looked so young at the block party, she thought at first I was his daughter, but the interplay between us was so intense it confused her, and people said yes, that's his wife. (Daughter, is it possible that over the past four years she has confused you and me? Were you at that block party? I seem to think you were.)
So, I think I may have acquired a new friend. I sorta wanted someone nearby to have casual kitchen table visits with. On the other hand, I cherish my privacy. On the third hand, she seems to know almost everyone else on the street, so maybe through her I'll meet more people.
Oh, fooey. Stop overthinking it. Just go with it for once.
~~Silk
Huh?
I explained that my house was not in company condition (neither was I at the moment, for that matter) and opened the door a little more to show her. (Eek!) So she invited me to her house, just down the street, for tea, at 3 pm.
Where I got the rest of the story.
Later, much later, like just a few minutes ago, it occurred to me that her presentation at my door was exactly that of those home invasion teams, where a harmless-looking person asks entry, and then lets her cronies in to rob the occupants. At the time, it never occurred to me to wonder what evil weapon she might have had in that sling. Wow. Until a few minutes ago, if it hadn't been for my mess, I could have been easy pickings!
But, of course, that wasn't the case. She was exactly what she claimed to be.
The story: Back in the early summer of 2001, when Jay was blind, partially paralyzed, and in a wheelchair, some neighbors hosted a block party, and Jay and I went. This woman (I'll call her Nan) was living in Brooklyn and visiting friends on our street , and also went to the party. She says she was very struck by the "obvious care, love, and devotion" I showed Jay that day. She never forgot it. She kept going on about it. It impressed her so much she wanted to meet me.
Two years ago, her friends moved, and Nan and her husband bought the house from them and moved up here. She asked around, trying to find out who I was and where I lived, but nobody was sure (this is not really a very neighborly street, everybody works and half the people are seasonal, and I don't get around much), until the Hairless Hunk recognized her description and told her where I lived.
So that's why she appeared on my doorstep.
I stayed only an hour, had to go to the post office and the bank. She had fallen on the ice two weeks ago and broken her wrist - that's why the sling. She can't drive now, so I offered her my services. Dental appointment coming up, she'll call.
She asked how old Jay was when he died, and I said 49, I was 8 years older than he. That surprised her. She said that I looked so young at the block party, she thought at first I was his daughter, but the interplay between us was so intense it confused her, and people said yes, that's his wife. (Daughter, is it possible that over the past four years she has confused you and me? Were you at that block party? I seem to think you were.)
So, I think I may have acquired a new friend. I sorta wanted someone nearby to have casual kitchen table visits with. On the other hand, I cherish my privacy. On the third hand, she seems to know almost everyone else on the street, so maybe through her I'll meet more people.
Oh, fooey. Stop overthinking it. Just go with it for once.
~~Silk
#496 Missing the Photo?
I just discovered that viewed through AOL, the right column (over there--->), with the "About Me" and the photo, is missing. AOL screwed up the formatting somehow. Or the formatting IS screwed up. Looks fine on Netscape, though. So if you don't see the photo on the right, try another browser.
I have been invited to tea at a neighbor's at 3, so I have to run. Will return later.
~~Silk
I have been invited to tea at a neighbor's at 3, so I have to run. Will return later.
~~Silk
Monday, December 26, 2005
#495 Quiz - What's Important to Me
[May 2011 update: A lot of people are getting here through a search for "what's important to me". Please note that the link below still works, I think, but the quiz you'll find there is NOT the same quiz I took way back when. The new quiz is rather short and shallow. And the pie chart I got when I took it no longer shows.]
Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com
Health is most important in your life.
Having a high focus on health indicates that you are very health-conscious and you realize that if you don't have your health, you have nothing. You are devoted to living healthy.
I don't know why they chose "Health". Seems like they could have just as easily chosen Love, or Fun, or Career. Of course, I eat vegetables and fruit. I guess they thought that was more important than the fact that I smoke/have smoked.
Love or Fun would have been most accurate.
~~Silk
Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com
Health is most important in your life.
Having a high focus on health indicates that you are very health-conscious and you realize that if you don't have your health, you have nothing. You are devoted to living healthy.
I don't know why they chose "Health". Seems like they could have just as easily chosen Love, or Fun, or Career. Of course, I eat vegetables and fruit. I guess they thought that was more important than the fact that I smoke/have smoked.
Love or Fun would have been most accurate.
I think Money got high because I said I will pick up pennies on the street (I consider them lucky. I don't spend lucky coins.) Family got low because none of my family lives nearby.
This quiz actually reflects more one's circumstances than where one places importance.
~~Silk
#494 Throwing Out, or Throwing Up?
My stomach is still queasy today, worse than yesterday. That "hollow" feeling in the stomach with the "lumpy" feeling in the throat. I can't decide whether to throw up or cry. I don't know whether it's Daughter's virus visiting or the aftereffects of what I saw Saturday, but either way, I wish it would stop.
I intend to work in the basement all day today, throw out some more junk. It's raining outside, so even though I really want to get a long walk in, I can't, without risking a cold on top of whatever else is going on inside me. Although I may still risk a cold - the basement is chilly (and the dehumidifier is iced up again).
What a droopy dreary day. It's 11:30 am, and I have all the lights on. Not conducive to happy thoughts.
Maybe I'll go eat a whole bag of Lindt Truffles. Then if I throw up, it's Win-Win.
See? I can have happy thoughts!
~~Silk
I intend to work in the basement all day today, throw out some more junk. It's raining outside, so even though I really want to get a long walk in, I can't, without risking a cold on top of whatever else is going on inside me. Although I may still risk a cold - the basement is chilly (and the dehumidifier is iced up again).
What a droopy dreary day. It's 11:30 am, and I have all the lights on. Not conducive to happy thoughts.
Maybe I'll go eat a whole bag of Lindt Truffles. Then if I throw up, it's Win-Win.
See? I can have happy thoughts!
~~Silk
Sunday, December 25, 2005
#493 A Glimpse
Quick entry - queasy stomach today, but nothing at all like Daughter had Saturday.
On the way home yesterday, I did one of my favorite things, just wandering on a road I'd never been on before just to see where it went, to find new things, to try to get lost. I do that a lot. It's how I found that amazing omelet I'll never find again.
Out of the blue, I saw something absolutely amazing, something that I truly believe I was meant to see. I would never have seen it had I not taken that road. I would not have seen it had I been a few seconds earlier at that particular spot, or a few seconds later. But there it was, and it was visible only for a few seconds, only at that exact moment! I could pass that spot a thousand times on purpose at different times, and look for it, and would not be able to see it. But I saw it. Out of the blue. I think some greater power put me in that spot at that exact moment. The timing is the important part.
A reward. Something I was meant to see. Never mind what. It just couldn't have been chance.
And people scowl at me when I say I believe in fate.
~~Silk
On the way home yesterday, I did one of my favorite things, just wandering on a road I'd never been on before just to see where it went, to find new things, to try to get lost. I do that a lot. It's how I found that amazing omelet I'll never find again.
Out of the blue, I saw something absolutely amazing, something that I truly believe I was meant to see. I would never have seen it had I not taken that road. I would not have seen it had I been a few seconds earlier at that particular spot, or a few seconds later. But there it was, and it was visible only for a few seconds, only at that exact moment! I could pass that spot a thousand times on purpose at different times, and look for it, and would not be able to see it. But I saw it. Out of the blue. I think some greater power put me in that spot at that exact moment. The timing is the important part.
A reward. Something I was meant to see. Never mind what. It just couldn't have been chance.
And people scowl at me when I say I believe in fate.
~~Silk
Saturday, December 24, 2005
#492 I Believe
"Life isn't measured by the breaths you take; but by the moments that take your breath away." -Unknown
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Hercules told me a joke at dinner Friday night about a couple discussing sending out Christmas cards. They were concerned that the cards wished "Peace on Earth". Maybe they shouldn't send them. After all, they didn't want to look unpatriotic....
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I believe.
I do believe in some form of reincarnation. I have powerful and personal reasons for my belief.
I believe that we come back over and over to learn lessons. That each pass through, there's some important lesson or lessons we are to learn, and by paying attention and learning these lessons, we grow in some way. Call it spiritual strength if you like. Those whom people say have "old souls" aren't really older, they've just learned more of the lessons.
I believe that the pain and hardship some people suffer in the life they are born into has a purpose. It's how they are started on the path to knowledge. It's the necessary first step of their lesson.
I believe that at some point you learn enough to reach completion and "graduate". I suspect that "God" is a committee of completed souls.
I believe that most of those lessons have to do with interpersonal relations and care of the earth and all that has been given us for our use, although it's really much bigger than that, it's beyond mere planet, it's beyond universal concepts. It has to do with the source of energy, the spinning. I have the feeling but I don't have the words to describe it.
I believe that the important people who come into and leave our lives with great effect are there for a purpose, as are we. Either we are to teach them something, or they are to teach us, or both. Sometimes it's easy to identify these people, sometimes not, but it's important to pay attention. To share what you have to offer. To learn what they have to teach. I call these people intersectors. It's important not to push away an intersector. It's important not to turn away from being one, no matter how difficult it becomes.
I believe that the earthly world is a great temptation. To become too engrossed in getting power, in telling your neighbors how to live, in fussing over physical constructs that in the greater scheme don't really matter, takes away from the real purpose of life.
I believe that most organized religion keeps people from the introspection required to learn their own lessons. I believe this is on purpose.
Perhaps I should be a Buddhist nun. (Although I have looked into Buddhism, and that ain't quite it.... Close, but not quite. Or maybe that's lessons 956 and 957 for me, next life.)
--------------------------------------------
I was born into a family where there was no love. Our father beat us and berated us all physically, mentally, and emotionally. Our mother pretty much left us to suffer or survive as best we could. My siblings played one against another to gain favor or redirect beatings. We tried to love each other because we thought that was the way it was supposed to be, but anger and hate and avoidance and past betrayals and a lack of faith and trust made it near impossible. Besides, we didn't know how.
When my father died, my mother was finally able to look up and see the damage that had been done, and she tried to repair or make up for what she could, but she didn't know how either, and it was too late anyway.
I grew up with no concept of what it was to love without fear, and to be loved for myself.
We can't really know what our own lessons are, but I suspect I know what one of mine is.
~~Silk
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Hercules told me a joke at dinner Friday night about a couple discussing sending out Christmas cards. They were concerned that the cards wished "Peace on Earth". Maybe they shouldn't send them. After all, they didn't want to look unpatriotic....
-------------------------------------------
I believe.
I do believe in some form of reincarnation. I have powerful and personal reasons for my belief.
I believe that we come back over and over to learn lessons. That each pass through, there's some important lesson or lessons we are to learn, and by paying attention and learning these lessons, we grow in some way. Call it spiritual strength if you like. Those whom people say have "old souls" aren't really older, they've just learned more of the lessons.
I believe that the pain and hardship some people suffer in the life they are born into has a purpose. It's how they are started on the path to knowledge. It's the necessary first step of their lesson.
I believe that at some point you learn enough to reach completion and "graduate". I suspect that "God" is a committee of completed souls.
I believe that most of those lessons have to do with interpersonal relations and care of the earth and all that has been given us for our use, although it's really much bigger than that, it's beyond mere planet, it's beyond universal concepts. It has to do with the source of energy, the spinning. I have the feeling but I don't have the words to describe it.
I believe that the important people who come into and leave our lives with great effect are there for a purpose, as are we. Either we are to teach them something, or they are to teach us, or both. Sometimes it's easy to identify these people, sometimes not, but it's important to pay attention. To share what you have to offer. To learn what they have to teach. I call these people intersectors. It's important not to push away an intersector. It's important not to turn away from being one, no matter how difficult it becomes.
I believe that the earthly world is a great temptation. To become too engrossed in getting power, in telling your neighbors how to live, in fussing over physical constructs that in the greater scheme don't really matter, takes away from the real purpose of life.
I believe that most organized religion keeps people from the introspection required to learn their own lessons. I believe this is on purpose.
Perhaps I should be a Buddhist nun. (Although I have looked into Buddhism, and that ain't quite it.... Close, but not quite. Or maybe that's lessons 956 and 957 for me, next life.)
--------------------------------------------
I was born into a family where there was no love. Our father beat us and berated us all physically, mentally, and emotionally. Our mother pretty much left us to suffer or survive as best we could. My siblings played one against another to gain favor or redirect beatings. We tried to love each other because we thought that was the way it was supposed to be, but anger and hate and avoidance and past betrayals and a lack of faith and trust made it near impossible. Besides, we didn't know how.
When my father died, my mother was finally able to look up and see the damage that had been done, and she tried to repair or make up for what she could, but she didn't know how either, and it was too late anyway.
I grew up with no concept of what it was to love without fear, and to be loved for myself.
We can't really know what our own lessons are, but I suspect I know what one of mine is.
~~Silk
#491 Fireplace Macabre
I had mentioned, 'long 'bout Thanksgiving, that Hercules' sweet grandmother had a log basket full of stuffed animals in her fireplace, but that the (cell phone) photo had come out too dark. Well, I edited it. It's not good, but you get the idea. The real colors were brighter, and the effect of those cheerful little animals and toys in the fireplace was ... macabre. Cheerfully chilling?
Hercules just called from South Jersey, where he and Daughter had driven this morning to visit Daughter's paternal Grandmother. Daughter is very sick, throwing up and all. She had mentioned to me yesterday that a child in her Montessori school was sick with a virus earlier in the week, and she'd had to care for her. So, I guess we know where it came from. I hope I don't find out where it goes next. And I hope her Grandmother doesn't have to contend with a Christmas like the year when everybody had the flu all at once, and one of the (idiot teenaged male) relatives ate almost two pounds of peanut butter cups, and then stood at the top of a flight of stairs, and threw it all up. Down the stairs. As the only ones in the house still on our feet, she and I got to clean it up.
Oh, well. At least Daughter brings gifts when she visits.
~~Silk
#490 Home Again
I'm home, with real peanut butter cookies with the fork Xs on top and the first two seasons of Red Dwarf on DVD and some other goodies. I'll freeze the cookies in lots of two so they don't destroy my diet.
While visiting Daughter, I asked her, with her knowledge of anatomy, to check out my left foot and see if she can find anything out of kilter. She said there does seem to be a firm spot in the muscle right where I say the pain originates. She massaged both feet very gently for a while last night. I remarked on how gentle she was, and she said that she has learned that people with "my problem" tend to react badly, to experience pain, after anything deeper.
Well, gentle or no, this morning I had piercing pain down the arch and into the big toe joint of the RIGHT foot, in addition to increased pain in the heel and rear arch of the left. It hurt to walk. I couldn't bend either foot. (Thank goodness for the van's cruise control.) But, as usual, the Daughter is magic. Tonight I have very little pain in either foot, even the usual twisty ache is muted.
She says I should use my fancy schmancy foot massaging machine more often. It squeezes the heels and the sides just like she does, and it has knuckles that run up the bottom of the foot, so maybe I will go back to it. I forget why I stopped using it..... Possibly because I noticed that it hurt more after, and failed to notice that after the initial hurt went away, it felt better than before?
I picked up on something subliminal there. I said "initial hurt", not "initial pain".
After the initial hurt goes away, it feels better than before. I wish that were always true. Everywhere. Elsewhere. Anyway. But it isn't. I'll never get back to the pain-free days of innocence.
~~Silk
While visiting Daughter, I asked her, with her knowledge of anatomy, to check out my left foot and see if she can find anything out of kilter. She said there does seem to be a firm spot in the muscle right where I say the pain originates. She massaged both feet very gently for a while last night. I remarked on how gentle she was, and she said that she has learned that people with "my problem" tend to react badly, to experience pain, after anything deeper.
Well, gentle or no, this morning I had piercing pain down the arch and into the big toe joint of the RIGHT foot, in addition to increased pain in the heel and rear arch of the left. It hurt to walk. I couldn't bend either foot. (Thank goodness for the van's cruise control.) But, as usual, the Daughter is magic. Tonight I have very little pain in either foot, even the usual twisty ache is muted.
She says I should use my fancy schmancy foot massaging machine more often. It squeezes the heels and the sides just like she does, and it has knuckles that run up the bottom of the foot, so maybe I will go back to it. I forget why I stopped using it..... Possibly because I noticed that it hurt more after, and failed to notice that after the initial hurt went away, it felt better than before?
I picked up on something subliminal there. I said "initial hurt", not "initial pain".
After the initial hurt goes away, it feels better than before. I wish that were always true. Everywhere. Elsewhere. Anyway. But it isn't. I'll never get back to the pain-free days of innocence.
~~Silk
Friday, December 23, 2005
#489 In NJ
I'm in New Jersey, at Daughter's home. Man, I gotta get me a cable connection! I hadn't realized how excrutiatingly slow my home dial-up connection is. I'll never be happy again - I'm already spoiled!
While I was so depressed after Jay died, I hadn't sent holiday cards at all, not for the past few years. I was undecided this year, because, frankly, I wasn't into sending sloppily sentimental religious cards (although I do try to send cards appropriate to the recipient, this year I am rebelling completely). But last week, going through some boxes in the basement, I found some leftover cards belonging to my daughter, and I loved them. One for example, says on the front: "There's only one person who could come up with the idea of chopping down living trees for holiday decorations", and inside "A woodsy PMS victim with an ax."
So today I addressed and mailed a bunch of cards, some because they are expected, and some because I wanted to. They'll all be late, but - that makes them more memorable (ha!)
One of the benefits of cleaning out the house and sorting papers is that I have found some addresses I thought were long lost, so several of the cards I mailed today were to people I haven't contacted in umpteen years - one of which has to have been 40 years at least - one of my two best friends from high school. I got her address from her sister on one of my trips to the mountain a few years ago, and then promptly misplaced it.
I'm so excited. I hope the addresses are still good. I can't wait to see who gets back to me.
~~Silk
While I was so depressed after Jay died, I hadn't sent holiday cards at all, not for the past few years. I was undecided this year, because, frankly, I wasn't into sending sloppily sentimental religious cards (although I do try to send cards appropriate to the recipient, this year I am rebelling completely). But last week, going through some boxes in the basement, I found some leftover cards belonging to my daughter, and I loved them. One for example, says on the front: "There's only one person who could come up with the idea of chopping down living trees for holiday decorations", and inside "A woodsy PMS victim with an ax."
So today I addressed and mailed a bunch of cards, some because they are expected, and some because I wanted to. They'll all be late, but - that makes them more memorable (ha!)
One of the benefits of cleaning out the house and sorting papers is that I have found some addresses I thought were long lost, so several of the cards I mailed today were to people I haven't contacted in umpteen years - one of which has to have been 40 years at least - one of my two best friends from high school. I got her address from her sister on one of my trips to the mountain a few years ago, and then promptly misplaced it.
I'm so excited. I hope the addresses are still good. I can't wait to see who gets back to me.
~~Silk
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
#488 Lines and Lists
I took some things to the post office today, about 3:30, mailing some packages to Virginia. The place was mobbed. The line went from the counters in the inner lobby, where the envelopes, boxes, and forms are, through the usually-closed door and out to the outer lobby. I was maybe tenth in line. There were only two clerks on the counter.
While I waited, there were at least six people, maybe more, who pushed past the person in line in the doorway into the inner lobby, saying "I just have to get a form/box/envelope." Invariably, the person picked up the box/envelope/form from the rack, looked at it confusedly, and when the clerk said "Next", they stepped in front of the next person in line saying "I just have to ask a question".
Like, do they really think asking a question takes no time? Most of them took as much time at the counter as the people who stood in line took to mail a package they had ready to go. Am I strange? I've been in their situation before, where the PO was crowded and I needed to get a form, and I have passed the line to go in and get it, BUT, if I then had a question, I went back out and got in line to ask it. I figure it's the line for access to the clerks, not the line for holding heavy packages in your arms.
Speaking of lines, I just heard a really cool line on "King of the Hill": "Money is like the wind. You only feel it when it's moving."
I am leaving for New Jersey tomorrow morning, to visit Daughter, returning in a day or two or three, depending on whatever. I had a list of things to do before I could leave, and about 6 this evening I "took a break" - laid on the bed to work on a puzzle - and fell asleep. Awoke when Daughter called about 11:30 pm, wanting to wish me a happy Yule before she went to sleep.
The good news is that the NYC strike doesn't affect Hercules because he takes New Jersey transit to Port Authority, and then walks to his office, so the strike has only caused the walk to be more crowded. The not-so-good news, other people in his department haven't been showing up, so he's been overloaded.
The slightly bad news, I still have that list of things to do.
~~Silk
While I waited, there were at least six people, maybe more, who pushed past the person in line in the doorway into the inner lobby, saying "I just have to get a form/box/envelope." Invariably, the person picked up the box/envelope/form from the rack, looked at it confusedly, and when the clerk said "Next", they stepped in front of the next person in line saying "I just have to ask a question".
Like, do they really think asking a question takes no time? Most of them took as much time at the counter as the people who stood in line took to mail a package they had ready to go. Am I strange? I've been in their situation before, where the PO was crowded and I needed to get a form, and I have passed the line to go in and get it, BUT, if I then had a question, I went back out and got in line to ask it. I figure it's the line for access to the clerks, not the line for holding heavy packages in your arms.
Speaking of lines, I just heard a really cool line on "King of the Hill": "Money is like the wind. You only feel it when it's moving."
I am leaving for New Jersey tomorrow morning, to visit Daughter, returning in a day or two or three, depending on whatever. I had a list of things to do before I could leave, and about 6 this evening I "took a break" - laid on the bed to work on a puzzle - and fell asleep. Awoke when Daughter called about 11:30 pm, wanting to wish me a happy Yule before she went to sleep.
The good news is that the NYC strike doesn't affect Hercules because he takes New Jersey transit to Port Authority, and then walks to his office, so the strike has only caused the walk to be more crowded. The not-so-good news, other people in his department haven't been showing up, so he's been overloaded.
The slightly bad news, I still have that list of things to do.
~~Silk
#487 Fulfillment
Today is Wednesday (how 'bout that - I figured it out!)
I don't know how I missed an entry for Tuesday, but at least I did call Daughter early last evening just before class (no answer - left a message) to find out how the NYC transit strike was affecting Hercules and his (usually) 3 hour roundtrip commute into Manhattan, so part of the purpose was served. She knows I'm ok.
It has occurred to me that today, Yule, is actually the natural, the real, New Year's Day. It is the return of the sun, the beginning of a new cycle. The wheel within the wheel. I awoke this morning in the arms, literally, of someone who cares. I think now I can give up the artificial calendar New Year's Eve. It has no meaning.
I am content.
~~Silk
I don't know how I missed an entry for Tuesday, but at least I did call Daughter early last evening just before class (no answer - left a message) to find out how the NYC transit strike was affecting Hercules and his (usually) 3 hour roundtrip commute into Manhattan, so part of the purpose was served. She knows I'm ok.
It has occurred to me that today, Yule, is actually the natural, the real, New Year's Day. It is the return of the sun, the beginning of a new cycle. The wheel within the wheel. I awoke this morning in the arms, literally, of someone who cares. I think now I can give up the artificial calendar New Year's Eve. It has no meaning.
I am content.
~~Silk
Monday, December 19, 2005
#486 Can't Think of a Title....
Well, the alarm didn't go off again today at 9 am, or I didn't hear it. I was supposed to meet some people at a lawyer's office to sign some papers at 11 am. I rolled over in bed this morning and looked at the clock, and it said 11:05. The bells ring for two hours, so I suspect it was the bells STOPPING that woke me.
I immediately called the lawyer's office and left a frantic message, and then - really and truly - brushed my teeth, dressed, and got out of the house in THREE MINUTES FLAT! I was at the lawyer's office by 11:18.
I've had dealings with this lawyer before, and I have no respect for him. He lived up to it today. He didn't get off the phone until after 11:40. The other guy, his client, had his wife and 14-month-old daughter with him, and things got pretty hyper. Sheesh. We were there just to sign the easement contracts and get them notarized. The whole thing shouldn't have taken more than 10 minutes max. But!!! I showed him the changes my lawyer had made, and instead of just making copies of the changed contract, he insisted on the secretary retyping the whole thing. Thereby injecting more errors. Four retypings and 40 minutes later, we finally got out of there.
Then I went to the gas station, and ran into Piper. Totally unexpected - I thought he'd left for Florida already. I asked about my business taxes, so we stopped in his office across the street to check on that, and then we had lunch down the street. He's a cute and sweet and presentable guy. I like him. I wish there was some chemistry, but there isn't. I think he's maybe too straightforward, too easygoing for me. I tend to respond more to mental and emotional intensity, to the tortured souls.
I got the Christmas check from Jay's father, so I played Santa Claus a little bit this afternoon. Usually I donate a large chunk of it, but this year I decided to give several people I know totally unexpected gifts, things that they want and need, but might not get. I think part of the impetus was May's setting up an investment account for her handyman and his wife, whom she had discovered had no retirement fund. Playing Santa is fun, and I'm in a position to do it. Figuring out who needs or wants what is the hard part. A certain 8-year-old wanted lots of bubble wrap. Whoop! Win-win situation! I've got a basement full of it! On the other hand, Piper "needs" a BMW. I told him - tough luck!
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An addendum to the previous entry - "loving" someone and "wanting" someone are two different things. I have loved many men I didn't want, loved several I did want, and wanted a few I didn't love (like the Doms of Navarone, pant pant!!!). True love remains forever, as the qualities that you love, if they are deep enough, don't change. Want waxes and wanes.
~~Silk
I immediately called the lawyer's office and left a frantic message, and then - really and truly - brushed my teeth, dressed, and got out of the house in THREE MINUTES FLAT! I was at the lawyer's office by 11:18.
I've had dealings with this lawyer before, and I have no respect for him. He lived up to it today. He didn't get off the phone until after 11:40. The other guy, his client, had his wife and 14-month-old daughter with him, and things got pretty hyper. Sheesh. We were there just to sign the easement contracts and get them notarized. The whole thing shouldn't have taken more than 10 minutes max. But!!! I showed him the changes my lawyer had made, and instead of just making copies of the changed contract, he insisted on the secretary retyping the whole thing. Thereby injecting more errors. Four retypings and 40 minutes later, we finally got out of there.
Then I went to the gas station, and ran into Piper. Totally unexpected - I thought he'd left for Florida already. I asked about my business taxes, so we stopped in his office across the street to check on that, and then we had lunch down the street. He's a cute and sweet and presentable guy. I like him. I wish there was some chemistry, but there isn't. I think he's maybe too straightforward, too easygoing for me. I tend to respond more to mental and emotional intensity, to the tortured souls.
I got the Christmas check from Jay's father, so I played Santa Claus a little bit this afternoon. Usually I donate a large chunk of it, but this year I decided to give several people I know totally unexpected gifts, things that they want and need, but might not get. I think part of the impetus was May's setting up an investment account for her handyman and his wife, whom she had discovered had no retirement fund. Playing Santa is fun, and I'm in a position to do it. Figuring out who needs or wants what is the hard part. A certain 8-year-old wanted lots of bubble wrap. Whoop! Win-win situation! I've got a basement full of it! On the other hand, Piper "needs" a BMW. I told him - tough luck!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
An addendum to the previous entry - "loving" someone and "wanting" someone are two different things. I have loved many men I didn't want, loved several I did want, and wanted a few I didn't love (like the Doms of Navarone, pant pant!!!). True love remains forever, as the qualities that you love, if they are deep enough, don't change. Want waxes and wanes.
~~Silk
Sunday, December 18, 2005
#485 Controlling a Relationship
I've already had a question on entry #483 My Sexual Zodiac, where the result says "you like to control your relationship in general". A friend asks, "what does that mean, and could that be a problem? Do you?"
I don't know what the quiz author had in mind, but Scorpios in general are said to want to control their own space. Not necessarily to control others, but never to be under the control of others. Fierce independence. And that does describe me.
Controlling a relationship means (IMHO) that you decide how it's going to be, and then force, threaten, or mislead the other into following that path.
Ex#2 was a good example of forcing. He simply wouldn't talk with me, wouldn't admit when there were difficulties, refused to work on obvious problems. He would shut down and walk away. He controlled the relationship by standing on a spot and refusing to budge, leaving me to perform all kinds of acrobatics to attempt to please him. I battered my desire to save the marriage against his brick wall. He decided how it was going to be, and I could like it or lump it. Eventually I lumped it.
Threatening is pretty upfront, although it can be subtle. Threatening includes loss of love. That tactic doesn't work for long after the other recognizes it unless the other wants to be controlled, and, well, then that's ok. That's what their relationship is. Sadly. Threatening a loss of love means to me that the love wasn't there to begin with.
Misleading is the most devious. That's when the controlling party plays a role quite different from the reality, when he or she allows the other to believe things that aren't true, doesn't tell the other things important to the relationship because those things will cause the other to react differently, thereby changing the relationship. The controller wants to define the relationship, and will not allow facts, true feelings, openness, or honesty to change it. It's all a play, and the controller is the author. And yeah, I've been played. Royally.
So, back to the question. Do I want to control the relationship? I don't think so, except that I want to know everything, I want everything to be real and out in the open. I want both of us to work together on whatever needs work. Some might say I'm too open, in that I want a lover to know how my mind works, and I want to know how his works, so I tell him everything and I expect the same, and I will poke and prod until I get it. I don't think that's controlling. I think it's the antithesis. It's also an attempt not to be controlled. Knowledge is freedom, for both parties.
I have never withheld sex or my attentions in an attempt to coerce, and once I know enough about a man to decide I have love for him, I never lose that. No matter what happens to the "us"ness of the relationship, assuming that I knew the real him when I loved him and there are no horrible secrets, the love remains forever. Although I still have anger toward Ex#2 (and he pissed me again off just last week*), there are deep parts of him that I still love, and if he ever needs me, I'll be there.
But don't tell him that.
~~Silk
*How Ex#2 pissed me off again, after 22 years since the divorce (yeah, I'm still steamed!):
When we split, he signed over to me some stock that we had held jointly, but since Daughter was small, I never sent the papers in to convey them, figuring that if anything happened to me, they'd go to him directly, avoid probate, keep for Daughter, yada yada. Anyway, those shares have since split twice, in the early 90s, and I noticed that I have received no notice of a book entry deposit of the new shares. It's possible that they went into an account under HIS name as primary, and he is getting the statements. So I emailed him, describing the problem in detail. What did I get back? A very short note: "I sold all my shares in 1996." Period. End of sentence. I'm sure he understood the question. But I know that's all I'm going to get out of him. Just like our marriage. Piss me off!
I don't know what the quiz author had in mind, but Scorpios in general are said to want to control their own space. Not necessarily to control others, but never to be under the control of others. Fierce independence. And that does describe me.
Controlling a relationship means (IMHO) that you decide how it's going to be, and then force, threaten, or mislead the other into following that path.
Ex#2 was a good example of forcing. He simply wouldn't talk with me, wouldn't admit when there were difficulties, refused to work on obvious problems. He would shut down and walk away. He controlled the relationship by standing on a spot and refusing to budge, leaving me to perform all kinds of acrobatics to attempt to please him. I battered my desire to save the marriage against his brick wall. He decided how it was going to be, and I could like it or lump it. Eventually I lumped it.
Threatening is pretty upfront, although it can be subtle. Threatening includes loss of love. That tactic doesn't work for long after the other recognizes it unless the other wants to be controlled, and, well, then that's ok. That's what their relationship is. Sadly. Threatening a loss of love means to me that the love wasn't there to begin with.
Misleading is the most devious. That's when the controlling party plays a role quite different from the reality, when he or she allows the other to believe things that aren't true, doesn't tell the other things important to the relationship because those things will cause the other to react differently, thereby changing the relationship. The controller wants to define the relationship, and will not allow facts, true feelings, openness, or honesty to change it. It's all a play, and the controller is the author. And yeah, I've been played. Royally.
So, back to the question. Do I want to control the relationship? I don't think so, except that I want to know everything, I want everything to be real and out in the open. I want both of us to work together on whatever needs work. Some might say I'm too open, in that I want a lover to know how my mind works, and I want to know how his works, so I tell him everything and I expect the same, and I will poke and prod until I get it. I don't think that's controlling. I think it's the antithesis. It's also an attempt not to be controlled. Knowledge is freedom, for both parties.
I have never withheld sex or my attentions in an attempt to coerce, and once I know enough about a man to decide I have love for him, I never lose that. No matter what happens to the "us"ness of the relationship, assuming that I knew the real him when I loved him and there are no horrible secrets, the love remains forever. Although I still have anger toward Ex#2 (and he pissed me again off just last week*), there are deep parts of him that I still love, and if he ever needs me, I'll be there.
But don't tell him that.
~~Silk
*How Ex#2 pissed me off again, after 22 years since the divorce (yeah, I'm still steamed!):
When we split, he signed over to me some stock that we had held jointly, but since Daughter was small, I never sent the papers in to convey them, figuring that if anything happened to me, they'd go to him directly, avoid probate, keep for Daughter, yada yada. Anyway, those shares have since split twice, in the early 90s, and I noticed that I have received no notice of a book entry deposit of the new shares. It's possible that they went into an account under HIS name as primary, and he is getting the statements. So I emailed him, describing the problem in detail. What did I get back? A very short note: "I sold all my shares in 1996." Period. End of sentence. I'm sure he understood the question. But I know that's all I'm going to get out of him. Just like our marriage. Piss me off!
#484 A Merry, Happy and Blessed Chrismukkahzaayule?!
I stole the above title from RossoRaven at RossoRaven's Nest of Rants. She wrote a rant on the topic of "Happy Holidays" with which I mostly agree. Not necessarily in the details ("Yule" is not Wiccan, although Wiccans celebrate Yule), but I second the indignation. The whole furor is ridiculous. As a non-Christian child of the earth, I am annoyed by people who want to force their holiday on me.
How dare you. I reject your foolish corruption.
The winter solstice has been a time of human celebration in the nothern hemisphere ever since there have been humans aware enough to notice it. Since then, the time of the solstice has been co-opted by men with political agendas, bolstered by misunderstood teachings and myths and laws and warfare, simply to gain control of the masses.
By celebrating Yule, I am returning to the roots. To nature. To immutable laws. To a proof of power and caring undefined and uncorrupted by man. Yule is a step closer to God, no matter how you define the term, than Christmas ever could be.
~~Silk
How dare you. I reject your foolish corruption.
The winter solstice has been a time of human celebration in the nothern hemisphere ever since there have been humans aware enough to notice it. Since then, the time of the solstice has been co-opted by men with political agendas, bolstered by misunderstood teachings and myths and laws and warfare, simply to gain control of the masses.
By celebrating Yule, I am returning to the roots. To nature. To immutable laws. To a proof of power and caring undefined and uncorrupted by man. Yule is a step closer to God, no matter how you define the term, than Christmas ever could be.
~~Silk
#483 My Sexual Zodiac
Another sexy quiz, from the same place as the previous. Take that!!!, all you who would give me up!!!
Jay was a Pisces. Someone else is a Cancer. Interesting. Anybody know of an available Capricorn?
~~Silk
Scorpio You are very dominant in bed, and you like to control your relationship in general. You are so intense in the sack that none of your partners will ever forget you. You are an amazing lover, because you like to have an equal amount of give and take. Sex matches: Cancer, Capricorn, Pisces Take this quiz at QuizUniverse.com |
Jay was a Pisces. Someone else is a Cancer. Interesting. Anybody know of an available Capricorn?
~~Silk
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