Mental Messages: What Do I Want?

I'm not a difficult person.  I'm pretty easy to please.  I want a man by my side.  Let me rephrase that, a real man.  Enough money to take a decent vacation once a year that doesn't involve the words family or in-laws and to save for retirement.  I'd like a nice home and a nice car.  I'd like to go out on my sailboat a few times a month.

#1.  I want a man by my side.

Men wear this question out.  "What do women want?"  Men get hung up on what women want because they can't (or don't want to) be what we want.  We want men to be men.  Now, don't get me wrong, there are some women out there that are just plain out there.  I wouldn't give them two minutes to screw with my head and men shouldn't either.  But in average terms, I think women just want men to be men.  Not physical men, a man.  When you don't deliver, we feel stupid, ashamed or even embarassed for thinking that men might want to be men.

Don't lie to, tease, disrespect, shame, humiliate, embarass, ignore, talk down to, devalue, disappoint or forget about me.  Because of my nature and you are a physical man, my husband or my boyfriend,  I already chose you! I will instinctively think you are strong, confident, wonderful, brave, sexy, smart, good-looking and the apple of everyone's eye.  You are a man, correct?  Wouldn't you love for a woman to think those things about you and have her be right?  Just don't prove me wrong.  So, maybe you are thinking, Wow, that is a tall order.  I don't think it is.  I really don't think it is.  As long as I already think those things, all you have to do is follow through with your part.

You see, none of the things on those list require any extra time, money or should present a challenge to you.  I'm sure you noticed I didn't put in that you have to talk to me.  I've got girlfriends for that.  Besides, you seldom understand where I'm coming from anyway.  All they should represent are you treating me (as your wife or girlfriend) like I am number one in your life.  Like I am a person to be cherished and considered.  If you don't feel that way, then you don't love me and you should move on and I'll get over it.

No dragons to slay here,  not even a lick of rocket science, just good old fashioned respect and honor for someone who instinctively respects and honors you.

Moral Dilemma Day #4: To Speak or Not to Speak

So the other day two little girls were in the road beside my house.  Both little girls were barefoot and lived about three house down.  So maybe a good 150 to 200 feet away?  One was on a bicycle that was too large for her and the other, much younger was having a hard time walking on the hot asphalt.  There was a great deal of screaming, crying and general show of unbridled emotion.  I watched unseen from my bathroom window for a little while until I decided to go outside and pretended to turn off the water that was turned on my trees.  By this time, the younger of the two girls was sitting in the grass at the edge of my yard crying without shame and the older had headed back to her house on her oversized bicycle.  I know what I did, what would you do?

Well, that's all you get. Have fun, and feel free to comment.

Back To the Drawing Board? Not So Much

I wrote this Sunday night, March 27, but decided to post it for Fitness Tuesday:

With a semester of school behind me, I have plans to settle back into my fitness plan.  I do believe I will add some bike riding to the mix.  Get back into the 20+ miles a week routine.  I've got a gig the end of this month that may result in seeing the source of my "Winter of Our Discontent" series on Fridays.  I'm seriously considering a big push to see how much I can lose in the next five weeks.  10 lbs would be great 15 would be a miracle and mean a size smaller.  I've got a great celebrity style black and gold pantsuit that has a cute little military style bolero jacket, high waist pants and a gold shell top that would be so sexy to have on if I was to cross paths with him.  It's gotten too small.  Well, then, sounds like I've decided.  15 pounds in five weeks?  Don't think so, but it would be an awesome kick start to the summer months of training if I came close.

First things first would be:

No bread, no starches, high protein/low fat, regular meals.  Complex carbs OK/simple carbs NOT

Back on the treadmill running alternating days of walking up hill and flat terrain.

Weight training again.  I should probably add some lower body to by routine as well.

I'll weigh in the morning to see where I'm at.  I know I gained some weight back this week with all the stress of finishing this semester.

Already Had Grades Posted

It's a B!  I can't believe it!  I was hoping for a C++ at best.  Well, I've already been contacted by my academic advisor.  She wants me to take Calculus in May.  Wow.  Now that makes me nervous.

Cashing It In

I may be cashing in early.  I've been working on the old problem for about two hours and find that my mind is wandering and I'm surfing other parts of the web.  I've notified my teacher that I'd like to make a few extra points on it, is there anything I can do.  Tomorrow noon is it for me anyway.  I may know my grade for this class by Tuesday afternoon.  Makes me nervous because it may mean the difference between a B and a C.  Grrr.

One More Assignment

Well, it's pretty much all over but the crying--as they say.  I turrned in the two assingments that were due yesterday and today.  I've got one from a few weeks ago that I just never understood, so I will take a short break and put some effort into trying to understand it.  She needs everything in by noon tomorrow which means 1:00 my time.

I guess that means I have to make right on my promise.

Today Is the Day

It has all come down to the next 24 hours.  By around this time tomorrow afternoon, it will all be over.  I have two programs to turn in.  Last night I had another breakthrough.  It all started to come together for the the last program I haven't attempted.  I hope to go back and make an attempt at the one program I left behind two weeks ago.

So let me share with you my thought processes on these last hours.  I had two programs to complete beginning yesterday around 8:00.  One was late and worth a maximum 7 points, the other would be on time--today and worth 10.  Of course I chose the one that was due today because side by side, the late assignment only has a potential of 7 points.  If I complete the 10 point assignment, I will definitely work as much as I can in the final hours to complete the 7 point one, but I feel the coice to go for the 10 points was the better of the two.

I don't think I can make anything more than a B at this point.  I had two Bs already and the fact that the late assignment can only fetch a C at best locks me in at some kind of B if I can complete these last two assignments.  As difficult as this class has been, I can accept a B and move on.  I would have liked an A to show the nay sayers, but in the end it was me that couldn't pull off the A.

As a foot note, there are two bonus programs out there worth three points each.  Completing those would be the only way I could get my A.  I don't think I have the time.

I'm In the Promising Mood

So I'm back in that if/then mood.  If I can make it through this class and pass it, I'll figure out this problem with my husband.  Why did I make a promise like that?  That's just plain dumb.  Ending this nonsense would be so much easier, instead, we both go around the house pretending that we don't sleep in separate rooms and it hasn't been over a year since we've had sex and that unless something unforeseen occurs, I'd really like to pack up my proverbial you-know-what and get the hell out-a Dodge.  The even sadder part is he knows I plan on leaving when I get done with school and he still goes around acting like it's the Garden of Eden around here.

Instead, I make this promise into the air.  If I can pass this class, I'll see about figuring out this crap going on under my roof.  Today, the thing that sent me into the next solar system was a comment about some guy that's a "more attentive" father.  I wanted to ask him how he could be qualified to make a statement like that.  He wasn't an "attentive" father.  Just what is that supposed to mean?  Geez.

I dont' have the foggiest where to begin, so if I do pass this class, it becomes a question of what to do.  I'd really like to seek counseling, for all this anger and bitterness, but I have a feeling I'll still want to leave him even if I'm not angry or bitter.  He has disappointed me so many times.  Every time he opens his mouth it's disappointing, so I'm in a really bad place to make a promise like that into the air.  I kicked myself around for a while and asked myself why I would want to go promising something like that.  I really don't know, I guess I was just in the promising mood.  I wonder if anybody was paying attention?

The Winter of Our Discontent, Part 5: Does Fort Worth Ever Cross Your Mind?

I thought about him today and it was not in a positive light.  I really thought I was attracted to him.  I daydreamed fantasies about him.  Naughty ones I wouldn't tell my best friend.  I was so excited to be having those kinds of feelings after so long I was even naive enough to tell him.  I was immediately ashamed.  I wanted to be with him so bad.  When I think about it, I'm pretty sure I told him because I was afraid of losing him.  He was my secret.  My special way of feeling alive in a sea of disappointment.  The thing that occupied my thoughts so that I didn't have to think about other unhappinesses in my life.

I suppose thinking about him the way I did today was healthy, but it made me sad.  It meant that chapters of my life are closing.  I think about how great it felt to know he was attracted to me and that I might get a text from him or a call from him.  That I might come up the stairs to his floor and find him waiting in the stairwell for me.  I know all he wanted was sex.  I know that now and it hurts pretty bad.  But then, oh my, it was all I could think of.  I spent many a Saturday morning snuggled down in my blankets just thinking of moments I would see him again.  I lingered in bed many times wondering what it would feel like to wake up next to him instead of my husband.  Or, in a different angle, to wake up in his bed on a forbidden afternoon together.

Now I am angry because I believe now, that he knew what he was doing from the first time we "met".  He figured I was vulnerable.  Married, but sleeping alone and not wearing a wedding ring.  A little chubby, a little melancholy, a bit of a loner.  A perfect, needy target.  He seemed so attentive.  He listened to my struggle with desiring sex and asked me personal questions my husband has never asked.  He asked me if I'd had a bad experience, if I enjoyed it, or even liked it.  I didn't know, no one had ever asked and I'd never thought too much about it.  Now I know the questions were just a way to work an angle.  They are all working angles.

Well, after today, I may be able to start writing again.  It's possible I am that much closer to leaving that wonderful moment in time behind me and accepting the fate that has been laid out for me here in a marriage that is void of true interaction and, in my opinion, love.

3 Days -- and counting: another major breakthrough

Last night was another bad night and at the same time, it was great!  I was working on the assignment, realized I'd done the instructions wrong, so I went back and reworked the program.  That was the bad.  Then by a fluke, I discovered a step I had been unable to figure out all night.  It was around 3:00, so I stayed up another hour moving things around and trying to get the program to behave.  I also realized a step in there I didn't need, but trying to remove it was not a good choice.  It took me a while to back out of a lot of the code I'd already entered.

Ah well, time waits for no man--or woman.

Two "New" Books: Critical Reading for College and Beyond, Reading Skills for College Students

I bought two used books off ebay a few weeks ago.  They arrived this afternoon.  At first glance I can see I am probably going to like the critical reading book better than the reading skills book .  Of the two, the Critical Reading textbook seems to be a little more advanced.  However, I plan on reading through them both as soon as I'm done with this semester.

So, in the coming weeks or months, look for my review of these two books.

Reading Skills for College Students
Ophelia H. Hancock

Critical Reading for College and Beyond
Deborah Daiek and Nancy Anter

4 days -- and counting: burned out

I fell asleep in front of my laptop and woke up two and a half hours later.  I think I'll go get something to eat.  With four days left and four assignments left, I have decided to spend exactly one day on each one.  Whatever I have at the end of that day, I will turn in for a grade.  I did a little of the math and a few points here and there is better than one A and three zeros.

So I think I'm going to wipe the sleep out of my eyes, calm down and start counting down the hours.  With what I have left.  If I was to stop turning in work all together, I think I would have a C- which is passing.  I've gotten an A on 75% of the assignments.  So even if I don't turn anything else in, I believe that means I will have a C.

This adventure is almost over.  I am already feeling the relief.

cplusplus.com shout out

I want to give a special thank you to the folks at cplusplus.com.  Those people really know what they are doing.  There may not be much purpose to post something like that here with my massive 57 views to date, but I've been at the end of my rope more than once with a really stupid mistake, posted my program and although they will not do your homework for you (they frown on that) they will point you in the right direction with hints and suggestions.

http://www.cplusplus.com/

6 days -- had a major breakthrough last night

I was still up until 3:00 a.m.  However, this was the most profitable evening I've experienced.  I was able to plug old code into a new program and it worked.  I just kept plugging old code in and it kept on working.  Last night I used three different programs to meet three of the five requirements for this program.  It was pretty awesome.  I just kept going to different programs I'd already worked and pasting it into this new one.  Because they were functions (mini-programs able to operate on their own) I didn't even have to change the variable names.

If I take a break later today, I will post today's moral dilemma.  If not, I'll just double up tomorrow with my mental messages post.

Fitness Fail - Treadmill Maintenance

It's not really a total fail, but that looks good for a header.  When things started to bog down with my schoolwork, everything went out the window.  I haven't run or worked out in a week.  However, right or wrong, I may have breathed a few miles into my treadmill.  I get e-mails through a website called Manage My Life.  I don't know, they send monthly reminders, household hints, etc.  Well, one of the e-mails was about maintaining your treadmill.  VERY interesting.  I had no idea they could be maintained.  I've burned out three treadmills in my lifetime.  I guess buying them used was step one and not having the manuals was step two.

For some reason, the idea of having to buy another treadmill was fore front on my mind, so some time last week, I bought some silicone spray with a long red straw attached.  And, although I didn't have time to take it apart like the e-mail suggested, I did spray some silicone up in the moving parts.  It runs much quieter.  I was surprised at how loud it had gotten and I didn't even realize it!  When things slow down, I'm sure I will look that e-mail back up and do it correctly.

I'll post the website address later this week when I find the e-mail.

It's 1 a.m. -- One down, four to go and six days to do them in.

I'm really feeling the pressure of the hours ticking by.  I've got a lot of reading to do, so I think I'm going to read for a few hours and then sleep so I can start on the next project in the "morning".  Not counting the assignments I haven't turned in.  I still have an A.  I don't know what this one is going to do.  I had to use the tutorial again just to get through it.

I bought some books on reading at a college level for comprehension and retention.  I hope they don't end up being a waste of time and money.  Reading through all the topics in the books was helpful in the long run, but really took up a lot of time, so I'm not so sure it was the best use of what I have left.  I wish I'd not gotten behind, but there really was no stopping it once it began to snowball. 

I recommend setting a pace and sticking to it.  Everyday.  I recommend taking the syllabus and mapping out the readings and assignments and regardless of when they are due, doing a little more than you need to each day.  The more days a week you do school related things, the less you have to do each day.  It just makes sense.  Well, I've got to go read three chapters by morning.

7 days -- and counting: But Not For Me

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday.  That's seven days.  duh.  Still five programs to turn in.  I did submit the program I was working on last night to see if I was on the right track.  She gave me a 71 in its incomplete state, so I'm hoping with her advice this morning I can fix what I need to fix and possibly come away with a B.

I knew it was coming.  I needed it.  I cried myself to sleep.  I don't do that very often, but it seems I've been doing it a lot lately.  It all came crashing in on me at 3:00 this morning when I still had not figured out what I was supposed to be doing.  I makes me sad that this was supposed to be my miracle.  This was supposed to be my one thing that I could claim as mine and there's nothing left.  I've been there for everyone in my life.  I am the go to person for volunteering, shoulders to cry on, idea person, advice columnist . . .  There's no one for me.  I tried to express my frustration to my husband which I knew was a bad idea when he referred to this as the "same crap" as last time.  Thanks for the sensitivity.  Here's to 23 more happy joy-filled years.

Waste of Time -- in more ways than one

Well, I read through everything I could pertaining to the topics at the beginning of the next chapter.  I looked through all the indexes of the other supplemental books I've bought along the way and read through their information too.  I found, several hours into fooling with the program that I pretty much wasted my time.  Very little of what was covered in the chapter outline is called for in this project.  I can't believe  this is so hard.  I just don't get this.  I'm angry right now.  I feel punished for the choices I've made to serve others.  I feel like I gave away my life for someone else and now there's nothing left for me.  I feel stupid and old.  I knew that I was putting my life on hold when I made the commitment I made to my family.  I did it for them because I loved them so much.  I never expected to feel abandoned by the very person that I have sacrificed my life for.  There really is nothing he can say to make it better.  He doesn't get it, he doesn't get the sacrifice I've made of myself.  He doesn't see the hugeness of it.  He doesn't see that I spend most of my days wishing I would disappear.  I made a choice I thought was the right thing to do as a wife and mother.  Turns out, I'm paying a price much higher than I ever imagined.  I'm raw on the inside right now.  I guess I was wrong to think I might recieve the promised blessing of choosing another over myself.  Well, it's sad and it's wrong, but I'm finished with waiting on promises, blessings and God.  I'm done.  God has not revealed himself to me to be anything more than an elusive entity that I'm not even sure exists.

7 Days -- and counting: almost done reading

I certainly hope all this time I've spent reading everything I can find on the topics asked for in this project is well spent.  I've got about six more pages to read and some sample programs to enter and I will be starting on the next program.  I'll let you know how it goes.  However, for now, I'm outta here.

Eight Days -- and counting: Still Reading

I am still reading information pertaining to the next assignment.  Somehow, it feels like if I could just absorb what I need to know before starting the project it will go smoother.  My post today is going to be short.  I've got some stuff to do before I take off to see the kids perform.  I'm going with a great friend of mine.  A fellow musician and the same girl that talked me into competing in the race with her in January.  Should be fun.  Eight days and it's over--either way.  Kind of sobering.

The Winter of Our Discontent, Part 4: He Just Doesn't Realize How Good He Had It

I had to stop writing for a while about the emotional affair I had last year.  It's just too tough and it wasn't just making me feel worse.  I thought I was over it.  It's just brought all the memories back and I'm not as ready to acknowledge my choice to walk away as I thought I was.  However, I was needing to fill some gaps this week with the school crunch, so this topic came to mind.  I wrote this March 14,2011.

 I'm in a bad place tonight.  I'm a little tired, so that is probably what is fueling this train of thought.  Last Saturday, my husband and I stood up to our Bismarck Palm.  Those of you that know what it is know this is one of the most majestic of the palms.  It grows a wide trunk and has silvery green fronds.  We bought it as a seven dollar tree in a small pot.  There was no way we could afford anything larger than a foot.  These palms are very expensive.  We brought it home and I've watered it, fertilized it, salted it and protected it from freezes while it was small.  It is now taller than the house and seems to be thriving.  It is one of the focal points of our yard.  Every spring we stand in front of it and argue about cutting off the "dead" fronds.

One spring, right after I told him not to hack at the Bismarck until the fronds were truly dead.  He walked around the house and cut off everything he could reach.  I was so angry I couldn't see straight.  The little girl that lived around the corner asked me what happened when she saw the pile of fronds.  I answered.  "He did what he wanted to do.  That's what men do."

So every year we argue about that damn palm tree.  I tell him don't cut the fronds off until they are dead all the way to the trunk.  Don't rip the fronds off, let them fall on their own.  This is how the trunk of a palm tree grows firm and healthy.  "LEAVE THE BISMARCK PALM ALONE."  I say in my mothering voice as he heads toward it with a saw.  Still, he goes over there and hacks at it.  I get pissed off and don't say anything.  This year, he wanted to chop on that thing so bad, he was sawing on last years  leftovers.  Then I saw it.  He'd cut down two fronds that were obviously still alive.  They were silvery green all the way back to the truck.  They were not ready to be removed.  Then he stands there and with a token gesture "asks" me if he can cut "these two" fronds down.  I say no, they are not dead all the way back to the trunk.  Leave the tree alone.  I point out the fact that he already cut down two fronds that were not dead yet.  He said the leaves were dead.  And it's spring 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009 and 2010 all over again.  He makes some kind of remark that I'm never happy and that sends me through the roof.  He REALLY doesn't see how often I bite my tongue and choose my battles.  He does exactly whatever he wants, whenever he wants and how he wants.

I'm ready to be angry and not say anything like I always do, instead I said, "If you had a real wife, you'd better appeciate what you've had."  He thought it was funny.  He laughed and asked me if I knew what I'd said.  Oh, I knew what I said and I knew how I felt at that moment.  I didn't feel like a wife.  I felt ignored and disrespected.

9 Days -- and Counting: Five Projects Left

The program I turned in last night was a milestone.  I am now only four days behind when I was a week behind.  As I said before, in a six week semester, days count.  Heck, hours seem to count when it comes down to it.  I spent some time reading and watcing new videos yesterday.  I plan to read as much as I can about the topics in the chaper outline and find as many tutorial videos as I can on the the web.  Then tonight or tomorrow I'll start building the next program.  It seems like it would save time to go into the assignment with as much knowledge as I can rather than trying to find it in the books.  So, today is for reading and viewing.

Mental Messages: Emotions in Motion

I woke up today  (as I posted in my 10 Days and Counting post)  feeling miserable.  There was just a churning mess of emotions in my head.  I'm worn out from long days and short nights.  I think I could have used a good cry, but it wouldn't come.  Perhaps because of all the crying I've been doing over school, I don't know.

On Tuesday I was dwelling on what men want from us.  I know that they make mention of not knowing what women want, but in all honesty, I don't think they care  the slightest what women want.  As long as it doesn't interfere with what they want.  As long as we don't say anything to them in front of their friends and coworkers, stay happy, healthy, skinny, let them do whatever they feel like doing at the moment and let them have sex whenever they want, that's about it.

I heard a psychiatrist say in so many words that if men could have sex with their moms, the relationship would be complete.  I do not have a relationship with a man past or present that has not deeply disappointed me in a very damaging way.  It's too bad, because I don't think that's the way it was supposed to be. 

10 days -- And Counting -- Getting Passed the Hump

Today may be a day to scout out some serious comfort food.  I woke up late and miserable.  I love Arby's French Dip Sub and Checker's Chicken Fingers.  I also had a Checker's Roadhouse burger the other day for the first time.  It was great.  Maybe I was just hungry.  I miss the other sandwiches they some times have with the sourdough bread.

With 10 days left, I sent the program I was working on to my friend to look at it to see if he can help me figure out why the function doesn't work.  I'm going to move ahead to another program.  The way the other one is, I could take out the stuff that doesn't work and turn it in.  I probably won't make the grade I'd like to make, but it will be a grade and I will be almost passed the hump. 

There were 13 programs due in six weeks.  I passed the halfway mark last week, the psychological hump was getting through the chapter that caused me to fail last time I took this course.  I think if I can just get through this chapter I can make it.  Arrays and strings aren't near as difficult as this mess I'm in up to my eyeballs.

Another Day Closer

I ended up looking at a video to help me with the assignment I was stuck on.  It was a video that worked the problem for me.  I didn't want to use it.  It felt like cheating.  I used a lot of the concepts because there was no way around that information, but I did use my own variables and tried to add my own touch to the program as much as I could.  I don't plan on trying to get one over on the instructor.  I will tell her that I viewed the video and was able to get some valuable information from it.  I also plan to tell her what parts of the program are mine and what are just plain copies of the video.  I think she'll be able to tell what parts I can't change from standard protocol and what parts should be mine.

Over all, I don't feel any better.  I'll probably turn this one in tomorrow night once I figure out how to make one of the functions work properly and then I'll only be four days behind, but will still owe five programs.  I've decided not to do the bonus unless it means the difference betwee an A and a B.  My dreams of an A+ may not happen.

The Other Man - Antonio Banderas, Liam Neeson, Laura Linney, 2008

I watched this movie Saturday night on Hulu.com. This one is well written, almost too well written.  I hung with it because I didn't understand what had happened.  One moment one thing, then the next the other.  Eventually, it all came together and I realized the spark of genius in the jerky plot line.

However, this was a good movie for fans of these stars.  Neeson has always been an excellent choice for drama and suspense and he did not disappoint.  Banderas role is surprising, so I won't give this away.  The three lives--of course, this is Hollywood--become so entangled, I actually wanted to know how this one was going to end-- even with the sketchy, confusing plot.  The whole movie could have used more time to develop Neeson's character to better understand the relationship between husband and wife.  I thought this book might have been based on a book, but the only credit given is a "story" by Bernhard Schlink.  I'd like to get my hands on the short story to see if it is any better developed because the premise is great, just not that well developed.

Truth?  I might watch it again with someone that hasn't seen it, I might've rented it because of Neeson and Banderas, but I know I would not buy it.  One person watched it, so a reluctant two thumbs up for this movie because the idea is great, the development was skimpy.

11 Days -- And Counting -- We're Losing Her, a.k.a. the Empty Dance Card

It's a classic TV show.  The handsome paramedics working feverishly over the accident victim.  The hospital is on the line barking crackling instructions.

Well, they're losing me.  The instructions don't come, I'm flatlining.  I prayed again last night.  Right now, all I want to do is pass this class.  Is that too difficult?  Is it wrong to say, I just take another failure?  I really, really can't take another failure.  I'm at the end of my rope and I've tied a knot.  I prayed out of disappointment, desparation and sheer frustration.  I simply can't fail this class again.  I'm tired of the searching when the Bible clearly tells us, seek and we shall find.  I'm tired of knocking on locked doors where there is no one home.  I'm tired of asking blank walls.  I'm just tired of feeling alone.  I have spent my life without a champion on this earth and I'm beginning to think that the other situation isn't going so good either.  I don't want anyone to get the idea that I only pray when I'm in trouble.  I used to pray all the time.  I used to have an open communication with God.  I defended my faith, attended church even had a job in a church for a short period of time.  I was quite the crusader.

You see, there are some simple promises in the Bible that speak of comfort, peace and strength.  Simple promises that we as children of God are supposed to be ble to claim.  Comfort, peace and strength that I have to be honest, I have prayed for more times than I can count, yet in all my years of faith can never honestly claim to experience.  None of those things brought me back from the edge.  More often than not I just finally went to bed hoping for an end to this and when the sun came up was just resigned to face another day.  No triumph over the darkness in my mind, just resignation.  The Bible speaks of the simplicity of our relationship with God.  It's free, all we have to do is claim it.  I claimed it when I was eight years old, and no one has ever arrived to claim my dance card and it's getting pretty old hanging out at the dance hall.

Moral Dilemma Day #3: Finding The Answers

Ah, the dreaded "answers in the back of the book".  Seems the 21st Century has a new spin.  The "answers online".  Here's the scenario:  You are cruising a website for help on a school or work project, then there it is: a perfect example.  Word for word, laid out and described in audio/video format.  Do you use it?  If so, do you credit the source, or make enough changes to claim it as your own?

That's all you get, so have fun and feel free to leave comments.

An Even Better Idea

Well, this week in Fitness is news that I have not increased my distance at all.  I am still wavering in the .12 - .15 mile range at full incline.  That is really disappointed.  However, on Saturday, I did an experiment to see how far I could run without an incline.  I ran 4.6 mph and went .31 miles.  I didn't expect to be able to go more than twice as far.

I'm seriously trying a 5 mph run without incline every other day.  Just to see how far I can go.  Right now, it's just the .30.  It's much easier without the incline, so the point of getting the most out of the time I exercise is out the window.  It's going to be interesting to see how that part of the training pans out.  I think the change of pace and change in incline will do different things to my body shape.

I haven't lost any more weight, but I also didn't do any weight training this week.  That's part of the key to this.  When I am doing both the running and the lifting is when I see the pounds begin to creep down.  I'm sticking to my original goal of four pounds for the month of March.  That meant something like 192 in two weeks.  I'm behind from February's four pounds.  I probably won't see the 192 I had hoped for.

12 Days -- And Counting -- Have To Clear My Head

Yesterday was tough.  I cried myself to sleep last night because I'm certain I can't tolerate another failure.  So much of me is hanging by a thread.  Even in my resentful state, I found myself praying outloud and hoping God would hear.  Hoping God would hear.  The thing is, I'm not asking for a cure to cancer or to eliminate world hunger.  I just want a degree in Information Technology so I can have a one person consulting firm with a handful of clients that pays the bills.  I'm not even trying to save the whales or the Amazon Jungle.  Why has it been so difficult?

Instead, the pressure has shone a bright light on everything I've overlooked about my life, my faith and my family.  It's made me realize that my family pretty much gets away with doing whatever they want as our home becomes a third-world mess.  My husband injured himself at our church two years ago.  The injury falls under workman's comp.  The church should have taken care of this from the beginning.  For some reason, my husband has allowed the church to put this all on him.  This is a strange position for us in that we could really use the church's spiritual support in these times.  Instead, it feels like we're getting the shaft.  No one from the church has talked to us about the injury.  The secretary gave him a form to fill out that he didn't fill out for months.  We've had out of pocket expenses I'm not sure we've been re-imbursed for and we are to be turned over to collections on the 25th for the remaining balance of over $2,000.  When I mentioned this to my husband he actually said that we were going to pay the unpaid balance.  I had to tell him it was workman's comp.  There should be no money out of our pockets.  I can't believe he so uninformed.  I've been getting daily calls.  Still, he does nothing and the church does nothing.  I'm so ashamed of the primal rage this stirs in me.

He finally called the church secretary.  I don't know what was said, but someone from the church is going to pursue this on Saturday.  Saturday.  Really.  That's over a week now since I first told my husband we had until the 25th of March to clear this up or it would be on our credit record.  On Saturday we will have seven days to clear this up.  (four business days)  I told him to please call the lady that's been calling here and just tell her what's going on.  He wasn't going to call her until he found out something from the church.  What good would it do to call her?

Well, it's 9:00 and that 20 minutes didn't leave me feeling any better.  Like I said, I pretty much cried myself to sleep last night.  I prayed a different prayer last night.  I prayed an if/then prayer which really isn't a prayer, but I did it.  I told God if he would get me through this schooling I would stay with my husband and work it out with him.  I told him he knew my situation, he knew where I was and how things were.  He knew how much I wanted to walk away and didn't want to take the years and money it might take to never truly get to the bottom of our problems.  I told him I would stay and that started a whole new flow of tears.  I guess I just want it that bad. 

13 days -- and counting

I had a small breakthrough last night and this morning went well.  Haven't completed the first of the seven, but have made some headway in that directions.  These final programs have everything but the dancing bear.  I wish I'd asked someone in my family to do some of the housework for me so I could concentrate on assignments this week   I'm rambling.  Keep your fingers crossed.  I'm going back in.  Cowabunga Dude.

Crunch Time

Two weeks left in the semester and six programs to write.  Works out to a program written every other day.  I haven't done that yet.  We just started Object Oriented Programming.  This is the part that separates the men from the boys.  This is going to be tough, so I probably shouldn't be here writing in a blog that no one has visited in days.

Anyway, wish me luck.  I'm hoping to do a program project today with a bonus project to earn a few extra points for all the assingments that have been late.  I've got a 97 in the class.  If I can hold on to it I will have my straight As back and I will have my first A+ on my transcript.  There's a lot riding on the next two weeks.

There are a lot of articles already in the queue, so enjoy, and I will try to check in as much as I can over the next two weeks.

Not a Social Diva

It's been a long time since I met someone new in a social setting.  In entertainment, I meet people I don't know all the time.  It's not the same thing.  This woman--let's call her Lily--was all those girly things I'm not.  She had cute little shoes, cute little jeans, a cute little sweater, a cute little haircut and without a stitch of make up, she was cute.  She was a little bossy and a bit of a know it all, but best I could tell she wasn't saying anything that wasn't true. 

Lily seemed to know.  She was a fount of knowledge.  Whatever the discussion, she had an anecdote or personal experience.  I wasn't sure I didn't like her or I didn't like her talking for an hour straight.  She seemed to be an authority on everything.  When she left, she said that she was pleased to get to know me, that she could see we had a lot in common.

In common?  I didn't see it.  I mean, I don't kow.  Not wanting to give her the impression we were the best of buddies from this day forward, I told her it was nice to meet her.  I'm sure I would see her around.  Lily was one of those ladies that was like other ladies.  She preferred the company of other chatty women talking about women things like little girls, purses and crafts.  If I'm not in entertainer mode, I'm awkward, shy, almost stutter and never know how much to say so I probably don't say enough.

I've had a facebook account for over a year now.  I have 16 friends.  Total.  16.  Yep.  I had a few invitations when I first created my account from people I couldn't remember or people I wished I couldn't remember.  I just didn't connect with them.  I have not sent one friends request.  I figure if people want to know me or remember me, I'm right there, so as somewhat of a social experiment, I have purposefully chosen not to instigate friendship.

Meeting Lily was interesting in that it has been a very long time since I met someone I might actually see again after today.  I was nervous.  I wanted to take it slow, but she jumped in and endlessly chatted.  I mostly listened.

The Winter of Our Discontent, part 3: You Can't Handle the Truth

This is part three of a Friday series.  Although this particular post could stand alone, you may understand the "he" I refer to better if you skim through parts 1 and 2.  Use the label:  "The Winter of Our Discontent, or  find parts 1 and 2 in the sidebar.

I can't handle the truth.  I've been working on the installment for this Friday.  I've rewritten it four times.  One of those times were complete.   Two were titles and a few sentences and one was just me saying I couldn't do it this week.  I didn't realize I was still so close up on it.

Facing the truth is a difficult place to be.  Staring at ourselves and realizing what we thought we were over isn't quite over.  I made a choice--the right choice--but that doesn't mean I get to snap my fingers and have those feelings go away.  In those first days and weeks after the decision I wanted to die.  Not in that way people say, "I could just die".  In that way your feel it in your soul, like it's been ripped out and rearranged right before your eyes.  All I wanted to do was sleep.  I didn't want to hear about other people's problems.  Mine were so huge at the moment, I couldn't even think of having compassion for another human being.  Things became disproportionate, as though walking through a circus fun house.  My head screamed and I couldn't think.  I was scared everyone could tell how I was feeling and at the same time, I was hurt that no one knew how I felt.

Don't get me wrong, I'm getting better.  There's a lot of obsessive things I was doing at the beginning like parking in strategic spaces and timing my entrances and arrivals in hopes of having a candid moment with him.  I lingered after social occasions to try to cross paths with him.  I wanted him to pull me aside and ask me what happened.  I was going to tell him, "I already had plenty of people in my life willing to screw me and act like I didn't exist, I didn't need another."  He would be visibly hurt that I felt that was what he was offering and we would make up.  He'd tell me he wanted to work it out.  He'd tell me he was sorry if he came off like an ass.  He still really cared for me, he missed me and wanted to be with me.  The reality was he seemed to drop off the face of the earth.  It was as if he'd ceased to exist.

I went through a few months when I was pretty angry he didn't show up at any of my performances.  I thought he should be watching the papers for where I would be playing next.  I wanted to think he was in the audience when I didn't know it.  Secretly giving his approval for that night's show.  He'd approach me in the shadowy parking lot backstage and, well, my mind kind of takes it from there.

I thought most of that nonsense was behind me until I decided to try to write about it as a final chapter in the healing process.  I realize I'm not healed and I don't like it.  I hate it.  I realize that if he was to call or text message me tonight, I'd be there.  Wherever he wanted.  I'm ashamed.  My mind has returned to so many of the intimate talks we've had and the funny moments we shared.

I wanted to share the experience.  Certainly there is another woman out there that's been where I am that might benefit from knowing she is not alone.  That it hurts like hell, but with time it hurts less and less and you think about him less and less.  The truth is, it still hurts like hell and it's been about seven months since our last phone conversation.  I haven't seen him in nine months.  I still think about him everyday and hope the phone will ring and I will hear his voice.  I hate what happened.  I hate how I feel and how I acted.  I'm embarrassed and ashamed.

That is my truth and I'm not handling it very well.  I am no where near the winter of my discontent.  It's in full bloom.

Young Heros and Preying Construction Equipment

Sometimes a dream is so real, so vivid. . .

Yesterday morning I woke up a little agitated from an especially stressful dream.  The dream itself was interesting enough.  I was being pursued by a backhoe.  There was a hero.  A young boy.  I was young as well and he was younger yet, but not by much.  I was fit and beautiful with long flowing blonde hair that was never brushed.  He was tall, thin, always had on a white t-shirt and jeans.  Blonde hair, just a little too long like that end of summer hair boys down here get.  Leaping around on piles of junk in old barns and outbuildings as we traversed our way across the country.  There was more a sense of comaraderie between me and the boy than a sexual attraction.  I had to remain hidden and quiet through most of the dream.  I was the one the backhoe wanted.  *chuckle*

We found several unworthy hiding places that the backhoe destroyed accordingly as my hero and I managed to escape at the last minute.  Most of the places I hid in were dilapidated or full of piles and mounds of spider web filled junk.  I did a lot of peering through slats.  My young hero did a great deal of showing up at the crucial moment and literally saving my you-know-what by grabbing my hand and pulling me to safety as the structure fell to a suffocating end.

My young hero and I eventually found our way to a church that was in the middle of nowhere and hid below the balcony.  I remember getting there and having a sense of finality.  My destination.  I could breath a little.  I would not have to run anymore.  Hiding there, I had a sense of security.  The boy had to leave me, so he told me I would be safe if I stayed there and stayed quiet.  Meanwhile, people came and went from the church and never noticed me.  I slowly experimented my way up from what I will call the "catacombs" of the church.  Catacombs is not the right word because this was a new church and new churches don't have catacombs.  However, this church seemed to have a lot of passageways and levels below the main level.  I finally found myself at ground level in a closet I could look outside and see through a window.  I remember the sensation that the church wasn't finished yet.  There was a great deal of unfinished dry wall, the windows were dusty white from plaster.  Everything had that powdery, hard to breath, unfinished look and there was a feeling of newness in every room.

Still I hid.  Somehow the backhoe met its demise.  I can't remember exactly the order of events because it made it to the church.  I could see it through the window from the closet I was hiding in.  A man got out of it and walked toward the church.  He was wearing clothes one might think a construction worker would wear.  It was a man, but not a big man.  He wore jeans, a chambray type shirt,hard hat, leather gloves and sunglasses.  He was dirty with a different kind of dirt than was in the church.  The dirt on him was brown like road dirt.  Not black like soil.  The backhoe sat lifeless in a pile of weeds after the man left it.  The man seemed to melt into the church.

Then my young hero returned and told me I'd been "detected" and "We had to go".  He grabbed my hand again and we were running through thick underbrush and a very bright sun.  It hurt my eyes to look up, so I ran holding his hand and watching his back.  Leaping and crawling, crouching and diving.  He always stayed just ahead enough of me to lead the way, and at the same time he could just reach out and grab me if I struggled.  I knew I needed him and I wanted him there.  I haven't wanted a man in a very long time.

We entered a cool, shadowy wooded area and a barn appeared before us.  It was covered in vines and leaves but was very secure.  It was surrounded by very thick woods.  We had to climb a tree and drop through a high trap door (only after he destroyed the lock) onto an upper level then eventually make our way to the ground.  This barn was full of antique furniture but still contained the same amount of dust and cobwebs as the previous hiding places.  A relaxed feeling fell over the dream.  The only place I didn't go was a cleared out area in the middle of the barn.  He told me there was a magnetized area there that if I passed over it I would be "detected".  I listened and stayed away from the area.  I remember feeling extremely ill if I got too close.  I would get dizzy and almost black out.  Again, he'd reach out and prevent me from falling into the area or was always watching in case I "forgot" and walked too near.  My relationship with the boy changed and things got physical.  Nothing too serious, just lots of childish making out and groping.  He held my hand now not to save me, but to be near me.  It seemed like days passed.  We even ventured out into the vines on the outside of the barn.

Then a woman came to the barn.  We hid in the piles.  She was dressed like the man that had exited the back hoe at the church.  She walked straight for the "magnetized area" and crawled around on the furniture near there.  She had a clip board and a hair cut like a man.  She seemed to be able to sense me breathing.  I would hold my breath as long as I could when I let it out as quietly as I could, she would look in our direction.  He would hold me closer and we would try to shrink more into the shadows.

She climbed around a little more, pulling at some of the stuff piled around and then she left down the path she came.  It seemed like what was the next day a very large construction site truck appeared without warning in front of the barn.  It would have been physically impossible for the truck to arrive there due to the thickness of the trees and underbrush.  It was empty, so we knew a driver had to be around somewhere.  When the truck started up on its own, we knew the rules had changed.  Terrified, I woke up.  I'd been sweating.  The hair around my neck was damp.

I tried to get right back to sleep.  I wanted to be with the boy.  I wanted to feel his sinewy protecting arms around me and his desperate lips pressed to mine.  I wanted to sit on the ground in that barn with his legs enfolding me in a protective stance against the advancing outside world.  Holy crap, I wanted to go back there even if my life was in danger.  I wanted to be with him like nothing else on this planet.

I never made it back, so I woke up grumpy.  I suppose in the recesses of my mind he's waiting there for me.  Perhaps I will find him tonight.

I Am Number Four -- Full Time Action

This movie is a great date movie for the young and the young at heart.  It has a little bit of everything except gratuitous sex scenes.  The language is pretty clean, too.  We went to see it at the Lakeshore Cinema 6, one of the few theatres left around that has a matinee.  We decided to combine the 1:00 showing with lunch, so ate at the restaurant inside the theatre while we watched the movie.  We didn't order anything astounding.  The burgers were as great as could be expected.

For me, growing up in Florida, living my life on the water and most of it on the Keys, most of the opening scenes were drenched in nostalgia.  However, once the main characters fled their bungalow in paradise,  I was all in.  There were a few aspects of the plot I didn't see coming, but other than that, it was a pleasantly predictable apocalyptic-type showdown between the forces of good and evil movie.  As appears to be the case more often than not these days, I think they left a little room for a few sequels.  I'm just returning to movie going in theatres, so I supposed I may still be under the spell of digital audio and video.  It was just me and my husband in our pod, so we give it an easy four thumbs up. 

Moral Dilemma Day #2: Do You Peek?

I'll come clean here.  I'm picky about my food.  I will eat just about anything, but given the choice, I'd rather cook it myself.  I'd rather plate it and serve it the way I want it.  So here's the dilemma:

You're at a special person's home.  It's a casual day together.  He/she excitedly offers lunch and disappears to the kitchen to "whip up something great".  When he/she returns, the "something great" is of the sandwich persusasion, so the contents is well-hidden between the bread.  You know your friend doesn't like the same things you do.  What do you do?

That's all you get, so have a good time and feel free to post your comments.

A Sense of Accomplishment

Moments ago, I put the lid on the project I was working on for the high school.  32 identical hoodies.  I was up to my eyeballs in Spandex, Panne and zippers for a few weeks.  The kids used the unfinished product for two competitions.  (Pinned Sleeves)  It was awesome to see the jackets in the videos and how great the students looked.  I took them back after the second performance and have been working on hemming the sleeves for a few days.  Now this was an adventure I should have logged here.  From finding a pattern to hemming the sleeves, it was an outrageous trip.  I hope to make about $1,000 on the job, so any tears I shed in the wee hours of the morning will feel worth it when I get that check.

I've decided to use it to get one of those carport type fixtures for our boats.  My husband has a 19 foot fishing boat and I have the catamaran I mentioned in an earlier post.  We looked at some a long time ago that had small workshops attached to them.  I think it would be great to move all of his woodworking stuff our there.  Of course we'd have to electricity out to it, but that would be small peanuts if it mean I might be able to reclaim 3/4 of the garage for use as an actual garage.

That means the pattern I bought for the retro dress is next in the queue and that makes me excited because I wanted to wear it in June for my niece's graduation.  So as soon as this class I'm taking is over, I will probably start posting more in my "Sewing Retro" topic.  I will also begin posting some photos of the dress from start to finish.  Awesome.

One One Hundredth at a Time

Well,  I did decide to rethink my goals for running the race in August.  I have decided to try for one one hundredth of a mile more every other day for the month of March.  That is not enough to be running the distance I need to be running, but it is a start and it feels doable.  I'm hoping as I get rolling again, my body will accept the cardio challenge and maybe in April I can add two one hundredths at a time.

Right now it takes me longer to get dressed to use the treadmill than I am actually on it.  That adds a little to the frustration.

I'll report that I started at a maximum of .09 distance at 4.5 mph on the 2nd.  I am now at .15 at 4.5 mph as of this morning.  Even though this pace won't get me to the three miles, this is encouraging.  My goal is one quarter mile (.25), uphill at no slower than 4.5 mph by the end of March.  We'll see if it comes to fruition.  Oh yeah, as a warm up, I am walking an easy pace of about 1.5 for about three minutes before I start the run portion.  I tried to just jump on the treadmill.  I found my legs cramped more when I was done running than with the three minute walk.

I think the book of Proverbs in the Bible says something like the reward is not in starting, it is in finishing.

It's 12:22 AM, Do You Know Where Your Resolve Is?

One of the hardest things for me and going back to school has been keeping in touch with my resolve to complete something I started over 20 years ago.  Tonight I want to quit again the same way I do every other night.  I feel overwhelmed and anxious.  The strange thing is, it's not that I don't understand what I'm supposed to be doing.  I get it.  It's just so difficult to keep everything in my head organized while it's waiting in line to be used.

I've tried all kinds of tricks like reading and sleeping on it.  I've tried a good night's sleep, no sleep, nutrition, hydration.  Fats, proteins, sunshine, exercise.  Music and silence. It's like flashes of exactly what I have to do are there, scrambling to be noticed.  As soon as I recognize I know what to do, they are gone.  I stare at the computer as if I've never seen the screen I've been working on for two days.  I have to relearn the same things over and over again.  Frankly, I'm scared.  I'm scared I can't retain it.  Scared I've wasted the $5,000 I've spent on tuition.  Scared I will quit and at the same time, I'm scared I won't know when to quit.

I'm now more than a week behind, but that's much worse than it looks.  These semesters are only six weeks long, so it is more like three weeks.  Every day for a week I have said to myself,  "OK, today's the day, you sit at the computer until you're making progress."  The progress doesn't come.  Instead, I play hide and seek with my lucidity, fight back tears and shake my fist at God for whatever His role is in this.  I'm angry at my parents for not encouraging me when I was young, I'm angry at my husband for his stinky attitude. I'm resentful of everyone that had a normal secondary education experience.  I'm angry that I'm old.  I'm pretty much mad at the world over this and that makes it feel all wrong.  Nothing like the adventure I had hoped to begin and someday write about in order to help others with their resolve to go back to school.

Get A Job

I was asked a little while ago when the last time was I had a "real" job.  I assumed by real, he meant the regular nine to fiver with the hateful boss and slacker secretaries.  I had to think about it.  I'm a musician.  Only a handful of people in my life recognize that as what I do, but yes, I'm a musician.  I've performed professionally since I was in high school.  I sang for money at my first wedding when I was a sophomore.  I sang that Eddie Rabbit/Crystal Gayle song, "Just You and I" (which is a little humorous because it's a duet and it was just me with a Lowrey Organ--could it be anymore cheesy?)  I also sang the Lord's Prayer.  I was too young to understand the significance of this song.  Both songs were pretty bad in retrospect, but I'd had a taste of  "singing for my supper".  To this day, I don't remember how much the bride paid me.  It probably didn't even cover my gas.  But I do remember thinking to myself:  "I can get paid to do this?"

Back in those days, fame seemed more attainable.  Like I could actually sing my way--in weddings--to stardom.  Chuckle.  However, as the years rolled by and I messed up my life even more, music went farther away than the back burner.  I still sang and played, but making sense of the what was happening to me became more important.  I never did lose that strange desire to entertain people.  I've come back to it in the last 20 years.  Don't make the star cash I'd hoped for when I was 16, but it's fun and people like to hear me play and sing.  Ah well.  Maybe one day I'll get a job.   

I Am the Other Woman

I struggled with posting this.  I wasn't sure it would be received well.  As I've stated before, my husband and I have been married for a relatively long time. 24 years this past month.  It's tough.  It's always tough.  Being married, staying married has been the hardest thing I've ever done.  My eyes have been opened to so many things that were never what I thought they were.  Some days it just feels like there is too much wrong, that we've gone too far.  I don't know where to begin and more sadly, how to end.  So forgive me if over time I digress to the recesses of my mind and express some strange stuff.  Here it is:

I Am the Other Woman

I have ceased to be.  No, really.  That's a little dramatic, but it pretty much catches the essence of the moment.  I realized while driving this morning--the time when I can think a little--I am the "other woman".  I haven't been able to put my finger on the way I have felt this year.  This may not be the absolute answer to the question, but I realize today that I haven't been number one in anyone's life.  That's not necessarily a new thing or a bad thing.  It's something.  I've been trying to consciously make sense of my life for going on two years now and a piece to the puzzle fell in to place just this morning.

For the past 23 years I've had two people in my life.  No one else was allowed and there were many that I know with a wink or a nod would have desired that position.  My number ones are my husband and my son.  They came first without question and regret.  I gave up the last, did without, cancelled, planned, skipped, skimped, skrimped and lived for those two.  Their joys, sorrows and dreams were mine.  It was the noblest of professions.   I knew someday I would be blessed ten-fold.  My life would have glorious meaning.  That still remains to be seen.

Then I woke up--I changed.  A chain of events described in my Friday series "Winter of Our Discontent", opened me up, left me aware, scared, raw, vulnerable and insecure.  At the same time, my senses were alive and so was I.  For the first time in a very long time I had opinions.  Strong ones.  I had feelings like anger and disappointment.  I had dreams.  I had a voice and I knew the truth.

I was not their number one.  I could say it.  They hadn't changed.  I had.  I could see it.

I won't spoil the plot of "Winter of Our Discontent" here.  I will tell you I thought an opportunity had presented itself  to be someone's first.  To not be the "other woman" for the first time in many many years.  It was the sweetest drug and I almost bought in except it was fragile and dangerous. 

At the moment of truth the cards were on the table, it was my turn.  Would it be yes or no?  Whatever my motivation, I chose to be the other woman in their lives over being the woman in someone else's life.  I haven't decided if I did the right thing for me, but it was the right thing for them.  Regardless of what I receive in return, they are my number ones and will be forever.

I don't think they realize what a blessing they experienced on that day, but I do.  I walked back in to their lives before I ever walked out.  Have I looked back?  Have I thought about it?  Every day.  At first it was with every breath, my heart ached at the thought of what I'd left.  What I'd had a glimpse of.  It has been seven months since I made my choice.  I look back less and less and forward more and more.

Petty World: The Side Door

I have this place I go when something really small on the outside is a super big deal on the inside.  If you deny that you go to Petty World every now and then, you're a liar 'cause we all do it.  I just got back from Petty World, and boy am I angry.  This time I went there via the side door that gets sucked open on extremely windy days.  On the inside of the door is our garage.  On the other side of that door is a brand new $6,000.00 American Standard air conditioner and the clothes line.

When we got the air conditioner back the end of December 2010.  (I told you it was new)  I made a huge deal about watching the side door did not get blown open in the wind and bang up against the new air conditioner.  I told my husband and my son that I knew where the door handle would hit and I would be keeping an eye on it and the first person to let the door go was in huge amounts of trouble.  I suggested a stopper anchored in the concrete or at least a buffer for it.  Because, and here it is:

"I Never Get Anything New or Nice and I'd Like It To Stay That Way for at Least a Little While."

Well, not much more than two months later, we've been having weeks of terrible wind.  Wind that would make even the Wizard proud.  I opened the door to the garage from the house and noticed sunlight cascading into an otherwise shadowing garage.  The side door was open.  I marched out and examined the side of the air conditioner.  Sure enough.  There it was.  Right where the handle of the door meets the air conditioner.  A meaty scratch and a dent.  No, they are not huge.  The point is, I know they are there and it wasn't me that put them there.

Now I sit in my computer chair up to my laptop seething because I know who it was that let the door go.  It was my husband.  He's been in and out all day washing clothes.  (Don't even try to add here, "At least he was washing clothes.")  I solidly announced that the wind had sucked the side door open.  I didn't scream, didn't whine, didn't slam any doors.  Just plain and simple.

"The wind sucked the side door open." 

I let the words drift down the hall to where he was watching the sport of the day on TV.  Nothing.  No comment from the TV room and I know he heard me because I've had a conversation with him using my inside voice from exactly where I stood.  A vision of me taking a bat to the air conditioner flashed in my mind that surprised me.  In my mind I totally destroyed it to a heap of unrecognizable metal.  It felt good to be the one to destroy something new, something nice, something I'd waited over five years for.  It felt good to be the doer and not the discoverer.  Yes, I am the one that took a bat to our brand new air conditioner and I like it.

Petty World is like that.

The Winter of Our Discontent, Part 2: The Wooing

This is part two of a series.  You can find part one by clicking on the labels or clicking on it in the archives.

In later days when we were in the same room together again, I noticed how skillfully he moved through the crowd--what he said and who he said it to.  He was working these people.  He flirted with the women and impress the men.  I would not be "worked".  I avoided his presence and his gaze.  We weren't required to speak to one another and I was thankful.  He did his part and I did mine.  Still I watched and listened.

He was free with stories about himself.  Adventure and fortune seemed to follow him.  Friends and fame were a byproduct.  He had led a glamorous life, there was no denying that.  He'd found fortune and profit.  He spoke of it as if it were a natural occurence.  I changed my socks, I made money, I changed my pants, I made more money.  The cards had been dealt in his favor.

On one particular occasion, I hung back from the departing crowd as I always did.  He addressed me in his easy going manner.  I made a harsh remark concerning his adventures.  I could tell he was not impressed, but at the same time, he was unaffected.  He said nothing when I know that he could have vicerated me with his quick wit and sharp tongue.  He was the much more worthy opponent.  I backed down and walked away from him, but I'd seen it flash across his eyes.  He was attracted to me.  I knew it and a single, tiny, deep seated vein in my body liked it--a lot.  The game was afoot.

They Need To Be Committed

I don't give 100 percent all the time.  I have my moments when I just don't care.  Maybe more than I care to admit.  But I try real hard not to let people down and I don't break promises even if I have to show up on my deathbed.  I don't lie and I don't manipulate.  First plans are what I stick with.  I don't break plans to make new plans.  However, I know someone who does and when it happens (it happens often enough) it's such a disappointment.  I'll spare some of the details.  To help you visualize, it involved that "something better" that comes along after we've made a commitment.  Doesn't it stink when that happens?

So, when the cancellation was official, I prickled.  No, I didn't prickle, I was downright put off.  When I heard those words, "I did the best I could."  And--wait for it--the trademark shrug and frown that somehow seemed to relinquish the individual from any prior responsibility.  To me it didn't because I knew the truth. 

The fateful words came out of my mouth.  "Oh, did you now?"  The minute it came out I felt triumphant.  For her, the "something better" meant a change in the original plans.  Someone else would need to step in.  By now, her mind was made up.  However, one of the interesting ironies in all this is the someone else she'd hoped to dump the weekend on also had a "something better".  A reason to dump it on her lap.  In this interesting unfolding of events, two grown adults were going to try to dish a commitment on each other.  For about two weeks, it was like a badly written After School Special watching the two of them jockey for position of who's "conflict" was most important and who would back down first.  When neither party would budge, the event had to be cancelled altogether and that brings you up to speed.  That's the part that got under my skin.  This little show of maturity affected a lot of people.

I sort of apologized to her later.  I told her I was sorry, that if she'd really done all she could do to remedy the cancelling of the event, then there really was nothing she could do.  So that's not a real apology.  However, it was wrong and it was none of my business, but I meant it.

I know the reasons behind the charade and the situations could have been remedied had both parties just said.  "I'm sorry have plans that weekend.  Could we do it another time?"    Instead, I'm disappointed in two grown-ups acting like spoilt children.  They both made a commitment.

When Was the Last Time You Felt Love?

I've been praying for a long time to be in love--to feel love.  The whole package, head over heels, spine tingling, toe curling, can't get enough of his smell on the pillow, wearin' his shirts on Saturday morning--in love. 

When I first thought about praying to be in love, it seemed like a pretty silly idea.  What did I need to pray a prayer like that for?  I was married.  Should be over the giddy kid's stuff.  That kind of feeling was for prom nights and homecoming dances.  For picnics and movie theatres.  Beaches, porch swings and tailgates.  Starlight and moonbeams.  Still I wanted to be in love or better stated here, to feel love like an incurable illness.

Over the months my prayer has evolved a little.  I pray to love, but I also pray to be loved.  Not only to be loved, but to be loved the way I need to be loved.  (I haven't the foggiest what that is)  I know feelings fade and life takes over.  However, I would give just about anything to feel love and be loved.  It's silly, but it's what I'm thinking about.

Robin Hood -- The One With Russell Crowe

Saw the latest Robin Hood on DVD -- from Netflix -- last night.  GREAT movie.  The most believable of the two or three that are out there.  Because it's a legendary tale, the movie makers could get away with the usual plot manipulation and stretching of the truth, but this was a great movie.  It's long.  However, I never noticed the time going by.  The soundtrack was beautiful and other than some of the fully orchestrated pieces, most of the songs were written for the period they were representing.  That gets a special note from me.  Other than a few familiar faces, the actors are obscure enough that you don't spend the whole movie trying to remember what other film they were in.  Over all?  Two humans and three cats stuck it out to the end, so that's four thumbs and--er, well--six paws up.

Moral Dilemma Day #1: When You Lose Confidence in a Confidant

What would you do?

You're pretty sure the long-term friend you've been confiding in concerning a broken and ending relationship is talking to the other member of the relationship and telling him/her everything you've said.  Consequently, a reconciliation you aren't sure you wanted is on the wind.

This is all you get, so have fun and feel free to post comments.

Re-programming Myself: What Feels Like a Priority Isn't Always a Priority

Holy Moly, I just finished half an assignment that was due Sunday at midnight.  I'm so discouraged and would rather quit this class and switch to Business Administration, but I can't, I've already failed it one time, so even if I do end up switching, I have to get the F off my transcript.  I'm not interested in letting this school take my money again without giving me a credit.

This has been a tough stretch.  I'm going to bed feeling anxious and stressed.  I don't know how some of these people do it with full-time jobs, young children and homes to maintain.  I'm literally doing little else but my small addition to the finances, minimal housework and home work.  I can't keep up.

I have a short list of chores I do each morning, no matter what.  Unloading/loading the dishwasher.  Feeding/watering cats.  Scooping litter.  Feeding/Watering wild birds.  Pick up/straighten up everything that got left out the night before and freshen the front bathroom.  (I have students five days a week, so it's easier to inspect the bathroom each day)  The kitchen has to be spotless before I feel free.  I make a decision about what meat to defrost for dinner.  After that, I can prioritize my day, but I'm not doing a very good job lately.  I'm checking facebook, this blog, my personal e-mail, my school message board and some other inconsequental sites, way too much.

It's time for a little re-programming.  I've been thinking about a dedicated list of 10 things I will do each day without fail--a.k.a. "the chores"--and then rather than using my emotions to feel my way through the day, doing things based on what I want to do next, I need to actually write down what I want to accomplish and make a conscious intellectual decision on what it is best to do next.  I think that will solve a lot of my static time.  I'll check in later in the week and let you know how the idea is working for me.

2,000 Views

I am so surpised at getting a super charge out of watching the "views" portion of my blog increase.  So far, 10:00 and 22:00 my time, seem to be quite the bewitching hour.  I've decided I want to celebrate for myself in a big way when I reach 2,000 views.  If the 2,000 occurs before February 21, 2012, I'll celebrate even bigger.  I've gotten 20 in the first six days, so we'll call it a week.  That means I will need to almost double my views per week over the next year.  Let's see how it goes.

Refresh Myself, Refresh My Goals

It's a new month.  It's time to look back at the last one and plan for the next one.

I've seen the biggest improvement in my weight training.  I have chosen a combined approach of light weights with high repetitions and heavy weights with slower and fewer repetitions.  It seems to be working for me.  I'm seeing a difference.  I have what used to be called a circuit trainer.  I don't know if they still call it that, but it has three stations that I can perform several exercises at.  At this time, I'm only working out my upper body.  But strength has never been my weakness.  Cardio workout are my challenge.

I set some pretty lofty goals for myself due to the fact that I want to run another race in August.  This one will be in North Carolina.  I am not accustomed to the hills.  Believe it or not, there is a knack to running on inclines both up hill and down.  I found some great tutoring on YouTube.  So I set my sights on the treadmill at 4.2 mph at the steepest incline.  I started with a meager 30 seconds and hoped to add 30 seconds every other day.

I made great progress until the one minute 30 second mark.  I had to hold on, so I did and I continued while holding on to the rails.  I was devastated.  Two days later, I got back on the treadmill started the time and met the same spot of one minute and 30 seconds.  It was horrible.  I wanted to grab those rails so bad at one minute 45 seconds, I regretfully did. and completed the remaining time holding on to the rails.  I made five minutes and one quarter mile "uphill" this month.  Only one minute 46 seconds of it was without holding on.

I have a decision to make.  I don't want to hold on and I want to be running at 4.5 mph.  It would appear I need to take smaller bites, but that would definitely mean that mathematically, I will not be ready for the race in August.  So this afternoon, I guess I will re-evaluate some of my goals and forecast some new results.  As I've been typing this, I've decided that out there on the course there won't be any rails to grab on to when I get tired.  I have to be able to do this standing up. Back to the drawing board.  I am going to take even smaller bites.  Go back to the magical moment at one minute 46 seconds and try to go from there.

So for the month of February I am logging in a loss of three pounds, 1:46 "uphill" and positive results on the circuit trainer.  I guess we'll see what comes at the end of March.  I'll check back next Fitness Tuesday with some of the results of recalibrating my goals.

Twilight -- I'll admit it

I'll admit it.  I watched Twilight today.  The first one.  I kind of liked it.  The tormented youths with all their angst and drama.  It was perfect.  The vampire angle was tedious but a bit of a turn on at the same time.  However, as a 17 year old, which, I don't think he really was.  He was something like 100 years old, right?  Anyway, with 100 years of high school under his belt he certainly knew all the right things to say to  Bella and every other teen age girl on the planet.  I know some grown women that swoon over Edward Cullen and the guy that played him.  Who was that?  Oh yeah, Robert Pattinson.  What a cutie.  He's my son's age.  Now I wish I'd read the book.  If I do, I know I will have Rober Pattinson's head on Edward Cullen's body the whole time I'm reading it.  I guess that's not such a bad thing.

Watching a movie like this makes me realize there's still a pretty good sized part of me that would really, really like to be swept in to a world of dark mystery by someone who would press his handsome face to mine and desperately whisper promises he could actually keep.  For me, that's the sexy in this movie.  Edward could back it up.  There is nothing sexier than a man that can back it up.