Anatomy of a crappy day

it is rare that i have a super duper stellar day. i'm not exactly sister mary sunshine, but i also don't mope around bemoaning every little irritation that scrapes my skin.

most days are status quo. not so bad. not so great.

yesterday was bad.
crap. shit. suck. fuck. bad.

it was a normal morning. ran a little late for work (status quo); forgot to bring my lunch (sortof on purpose). i was kind of dreading, kind of looking forward to an evening of steaks with The Guy and his roommate and the roommate's latest bar find. i was a little pissed at myself for being too lazy the night before to put together the Thai Shrimp Bisque i wanted to bring. i love to cook and impress people with my (let's face it) impressive cooking. but i had slothed out after work. so i was going to grab a bag of salad. not impressive. let it go.

about noon my sister called my cell phone. that alone is a weird flag. i work at my dad's office. she knows that number in her sleep. my mom was being taken to the medical center. she was unable to put words together and had some cognitive "issues". both of us suspected stroke. sis was in the car on her way to Methodist. i snapped the phone shut, had a momentary head spin, then composed myself. grabbed my purse. hit the freeway towards the med center.

the downward spiral begins.

insert about an hour with me sipping a crap cocktail of snarly freeway traffic, navigating downtown streets, playing bob and weave with the light rail, then basking in the joy that is a multi-hospital parking garage.

and nothing quite compares to the wondrous adventure of spending an hour or three and a half in a busy downtown emergency room. with your mom. nervous mom. who has now been restored with the miracle of speech. which she is using. a lot. ah, thank you god.

after a bunch of blood work, an EKG (eh?) and a pretty cool conversation with Dr. Finkelstein (i kid you NOT). mom was released and i headed back to the sweetest little town in texas. in rush hour traffic. yee ha.

then it was dinner with The Guy, his roommate and roommate's latest bar find. Said bar find happened to be a 44 yr old chick with a brick house body complete with real boobs. and they were fantastic. it was like spreading a frothy layer of shit frosting on the ass cake of my day. as i sat across the table, sucking on 64 calorie beer, letting it sink in that i was about to turn 40 and could probably wear this chick's belt for a headband, she regaled us with positively fascinating stories of her ultra-athleticism. golf? yes. swimming? butterfly,thank you. tennis? her best sport. "i'm not really into marathons, but the occassional 5k is fun, if i'm not too hung over." puh leez. there i sat with the coordination of a newborn calf -- and the ass to match. i decided to get drunk. not always a good plan, but always a reliable back up.

about that time, the babysitter texts me: "no rush, but i told my mom i'd be home about 8:00. Will u b home soon?"

soon? seriously? i just left at 6. you think i'll be home at 8? i thought i was the drunk one.

now i'm not sure what kind of cosmic misunderstanding might have taken place between the time i explained how to put my kids to bed AT EIGHT THIRTY and her belief that i would be home at EIGHT. but it really didn't matter because at that point, i was not only the chubby one, i was the chubby one texting the mystery person and getting pissed off in the process. The Guy was just thrilled with me. i'm sayin.

and yes, i will have another glass of wine. just hand me the bottle. thanks.

i suppose my liquid courage gave me the gumption (really? what am i sixty, now? gumption? ugh.) to call another babysitter and cooerce her to play tag-team with dumbshit babysitter number one (good luck getting that $20 bucks out of me, sister).

Finally ten-thirty rolls around and The Guy follows me home. i tell him to stick close because i've now polished off a whole bottle of wine and my week's allowance of diet beer. i then speed off leaving him to actually come to a halt at stop signs and not skid through the turns.

from here: i'm unclear, but i will say as far as i can remember my day did get a little better.

tomorrow. tomorrow. i love ya... tomorrow. and diet coke. i love ya diet coke.

Best. Valentines. Ever.

first, i write this with apologies to my bloggin buddy bejewell, who i wholeheartedly support in her recent sweater-lady assault...and second, i quantify this whole thing by saying that i've had many a year when i'd like to hang the founder of valentines day by a couple of nipple clips over a murky louisiana swamp.

But not this year.

for this year, oh anonymous blogfan, was the Best. Valentines. Ever.

i think we're all well aware of what makes valentines day suck..... so what makes for a wonderful, memorable and delightful valentines day? having a guy like mine helps.

he didn't go for the cheesy roses in a vase, which shows he knows me. he didn't overdo it -- no hundred dollar meal, no limo rides and thank god, no wacky over-the-top surprises like waiters bearing gifts on a tray or finding jewelry in my dessert. which shows he understands where we are with this thing, wherever that is, and also that he has good taste.

everything he planned for us was punctuated by an undercurrent of thought and consideration for me. okay, and him... he's lucky that our thoughts sync up, so he has the advantage of figuring out an evening that he would enjoy, then just tweaking it with a little front seat hand-holding, throw in some dirty smooch time at the end of the night and i'm as happy as a little girl.

quick detail summary: couples reflexology massage in little vietnam (i love that he didn't take us to a boring spa in this stepford-clone town i live in; besides those asians are serious about workin you over); then dinner in chinatown: hot pot with shrimp, kobe beef and a pile of noodles and vegetables.

there were little extras to the night that made it special for me. freakishly hot chinese tea waiting for us when we came out of the massage room. perfect for the transition from the tranquility of the dim room to the evening street lights. chatting up the tiny asian fireball that owned the restaurant where we ate, letting her order for us, getting over-the-top, but comfortable service and giving her big props for jacking up the cool-factor in her little place.

then there was the recognition. the acknowledgement that this evening represented. i'm his girl. he's my guy. it's out there now.

the next night, we did the traditional valentine thing: nice dinner, romantic evening. movie. overflowing bubble bath. sex. cards. flowers. all the typical stuff that couples do. on valentines day.

This V day, i started out ahead of the game in that i have someone. just having a some one in my life seems to slightly elevate the plane on which i operate from day to day. the fact that i like to be with him more than i like to be away from him, is better than box full of chocolates. any day.

Vive Les Resolutions

i wrote a new years resolution list. my first one. i was inspired by a wonderful friend, who we will call The Guy. The Guy evidently writes a list every year. and while he sat scribbling in a quiet room on New Years Day, i sat in the living room thinking: i'm bored. guess i'll write a list too.

so i did.

i've decided to let you in on my list and every few months or so i'm going to give myself a check-up: a status report.

and you , oh you lucky little anonymous blogfan, get to know how i'm doing.
sound boring? it's my blog, i can do what i want to.

***drum roll in the distance* trumpet fan fare ---dum da da da da da DUM...

ladies and gentleman (there's only dude that reads this), it is my honor to present to you:
New Years Resolution List 2009

* Clear Your Workspace -- declutter the house, declutter my mind. This resolution includes cleaning out my closet as well as disconnecting permanently from a few people in my life that are nothing but clutter. this is a year-long goal; eliminating distractions (like worthless stuff, negative people, junk mail...) so that i can work and think clearly.

*Celebrate Your Beauty -- take time to pamper your beautiful self. do the hot wax pedicure; get a massage, pluck your eyebrows. weekly beauty time for hair, face and nails and monthly beauty days for max treatments.

* Get to Your Goal Weight -- i've been talking about this number for -3- years. i'm not going to tell it to you, but it is my goal weight. it's funny how i can talk about sex, my divorce, how i sometimes want to abandon my children: all these really personal and serious things, i just put out there on the open inter-lines for all to see. but my weight carries an anchor of shame around it's neck. guess that's part of the problem. i'm sick of talking about this number. i'm either going to reach it this year, or put "Accept Your Fat Ass the Way it is" on next years resolution list.

* Be on Time for Work -- pretty self explanatory. i am super duper lucky and love love love that i have a boss who doesn't jump my crap every time i'm late. dad's cool like that. but he would like me to be on time. and so would i.

* Grow your Blog -- i resisted the urge to set a number of posts per week, or month, whatever. the purpose of this resolution is to keep my writing in the present. write more. write consistently. along with "grow blog," this resolution includes -get back into freelancing-. This will be replaced with "Write the Book" on next years list.

* Eat Breakfast Every Day -- again, not a complicated goal here, but way off the mark for me. i've never been a breakfast eater, unless you count the occasional gluttonous sunday brunch buffet as breakfast. Breakfast: it's good for my metabolism, starts my day off right and sets a good example for the rug rats. eat it. just eat it.

* Workout at the Gym -4xs- a Week -- easily written, tough to do. i got out of my workout routine after the hurricane (yes, that was september...takes me a while to get back on the bandwagon). i miss that time with my ipod. i miss the feeling of sore muscles. i miss being able to see my feet when i look down. .. ..

* Bedtime 10:30pm / Waketime 6:30am -- of all the resolutions thus far, this one has seen the very least success. building routine into my life will help the other pieces of this self-help puzzle fit together. plus, i don't sleep enough. but i love sitting up late at night and shit i hate to miss colbert report.

* Movie Morning Every other Saturday -- movies before noon are five bucks every saturday. small price to pay for a little family bonding, especially when i fill my purse with booty from the candy drawer. i committed to this and i've only missed one saturday since the year started...

* The Sacred Dinner Table -- my goal here is at least -3- times a week. Dinner at a table. no television. food cooked in my kitchen served on non-disposable plates. milk. there are some old fashioned ways that should never get modernized.

* Sunday is the Sabbath -- Remember Sunday and keep it holy. easier said than done. sunday is our day to sleep late (sorry god) and go to IHOP (hey, breakfast!). then we usually run errands, get gas in the car, maybe wash it. laundry. shopping. but sunday should be the first day of the week. recharge day. rest. be quiet. go to church for god sake.

So there it is people. Bask in its beauty. soak up it's bounty of wisdom and potential for a kick ass rockin new life in this kick ass rockin new year. what do you think?

did you make resolutions for change in 09? are they as cool and smokin as mine?

Sayonara Singapore

He walked into my office one afternoon in the summer of 2007. He was short, his graying hair brushed his shoulders from beneath his wide black cowboy hat. he wore jeans and a pressed yellow cowboy shirt. i was drawn to him instinctively and as he sat at my desk, talking about insurance, i sensed attraction from him as well.

but it didn't jive. he was way older than anyone i'd dated. the spark must be just my imagination.

we talked at my desk for nearly 2 hours. he told his whole story. he was leaving for singapore in August. expat. no wonder i'm attracted to him. like a flame to vapor, am i to expats. he had just finalized his divorce. been diagnosed with prostate cancer about 5 months ago. he said a lot that day. mostly really personal stuff about trying to find his way to a new life path. he loved Big Bend. had spent years in Russia with Fluor. a texas native from Victoria, where most of his 6 brothers and sisters still lived. he'd never had kids during his 25 year marriage. too late now. he made the break-up sound like it was motivated by her completely; and not at all what he wanted. he cried a little. he laughed. i laughed and fell for his folksy way that mixed so well with worldly experience.

when he left that day i gave him my card with a handwritten email address on the back and squeezed his shoulder (i'm telling you, he's short). i asked him to email me, and he promised he would.

i thought about him a lot that next week. he had popped open a can of emotions inside of me and the aroma of attraction lingered in me. i talked about him, but after a month or so with no word, i dismissed the man i had begun to refer to as "my old cowboy guy."

then one late afternoon in August he called the office. "Remember me?" he said. i remember. he had sent several emails, all returned he said. "guess i couldn't read your writing." he was in town for a few days; was getting his truck out of storage. wanted to come by and get new ID cards for the glove box. "will you be there?" i remember feeling a flush when i said "i can wait for you."

it was going to be a rare kidless friday night for me and i was eager to hit happy hour. i had assumed this whole thing was a one-sided crush on my side. it was the expat thing. and the cowboy thing. maybe i have some kind of grandpa complex. whatever it was, i was determined to be all business when he got there and had the IDs ready when he walked in around 5:00.

when he looked at me, it was like listening to my favorite song, that i hadn't heard in a long time.

i don't remember what we talked about that afternoon, or how long we sat there in the empty office. i will always remember standing next to him in the elevator after he'd stood behind me as i locked up the dark office. and watching him walk away when we got to the parking lot, having a feeling that i should follow him. i didn't.

and that's how it started.

i'm going into such detail of these first encounters mostly because they made such a strong impression on me, and also because these were the only times i had any contact with him beyond words on a screen. over the next four months, i would convince myself that i fell in love with this man, through emails and IMs. no phone calls. no face-to-face contact.

his first email was from sedona, where he'd gone on vacation before leaving again for singapore. it was touristy-chatty stuff about the mysticism of the area and how the new agey-ness of it made him roll his eyes at the place. i liked reading his words. he wrote long emails, which i like. i wrote long responses.

the emails got more frequent, and their arrival predictable, until we were emailing on a daily schedule. our time zones were flip-flopped. his 5am was my 4pm. he wrote to me while i slept, and visa versa. eventually i downloaded an IM program. i knew his schedule as well as my own. i knew when he would wake, and shoot him a good morning. he would respond. i knew when he got into the office, when he broke for lunch. our conversations carried from one day to the next and soon i found myself typing long hours, sometimes until daybreak, as our relationship was forged on a computer monitor.

it was crazy. i know that now. like falling in love with a character in a book. you read about him, you imagine his mannerisms, create his voice in your mind. the emotions feel real, but he's just a character. the love is not real. and neither was mine.

but it was the first time in long time that i had a relationship whose primary source of existing was not sexual. and i clung to that. it was all writing, reading. it almost felt like talking. i convinced myself we were building a solid foundation. he would be "home" for good in April. (as if expats are ever home.) i wasn't worried about the cancer--minor irritation--he'd beat that. he was thrilled to play daddy to my red-heads. they would love him. once they met him. my head swam with possibilities. there was talk of building a house in the country. a lake in the back. four-wheelers for the girls. a sunroom for me. this could be the new beginning he was looking for. this could be the man i was meant to find.

it was a lovely fantasy.

he arrived in houston Dec. 21 2007. it was the first time i'd seen him since that August afternoon in my office. i was like a smitten schoolgirl. i hung on him and gushed over every word he said. we spent two days together like a little family. him toting my youngest on his shoulders and dazzling my oldest with stories about his travels all over the world. we ate at the dinner table together and went looking at christmas lights with hot chocolate and popcorn.

it was a lovely fantasy.

by Christmas Day the facade of the fantasy had crumbled to reveal an unbalanced, emotionally immature, and quite possibly dying man. he had a lot of trouble getting through a day without having to rest. he had a sharp temper that was easy to set off. he didn't show up for christmas night like we had discussed. refused to answer my calls or texts, with no explanation as to why. he didn't call me. he did send a cryptic email that said he "could not do this". and would not speak to me because i'd "talk him out of it".

what? it was like my sam elliot had been replaced by tiny tim. our last conversation had been good.. pretty good. but now he refused me. it was the holidays, my kids were gone. i threw myself into a vortex of pity mixed with embarrassment and utter contempt. a mantra echoed inside my head: i'm an idiot. i will die alone. this just proves it.

we officially stopped the madness during last years AFC playoff game btwn the Patriots and the Jets; jan 2008. befitting our relationship, the breakup--so to speak--was a heated IM session, laced with colorful all-cap words on my part and pathetic childish apologies on his. at that time, he was going to stay in singapore and marry the woman he had been seeing there.

it took me some time to shake the dust off my ass from being bucked off the white horse with the knight and the armor and my hair blowing in the cool, country air.... but i eventually got used to walking my path again. i wrapped my heart in crinkly tissue paper and put it back into it's banged-up, rusty little box, and plucked it into the black hole from which it came. i got pissed off whenever i thought about him. even the idea that i fell for it, just burned me.

i got an email from him last july. he was in alaska now. god, he's such an expat. i had a few hot flashes here and there at the time. but i was in a rational place. i knew him now. i wasn't going to fall for the hype. but we did strike up the old banter again. this time phone calls only. no email. IM was long ago deleted from my computer. we talked about his cancer treatments. his job. the cold up there. all surface stuff. my heart was safely tucked away and didn't flutter. almost not at all.

then The Guy came along. we went to baseball games and the beach. we sat on the couch and watched Boston Legal. we laughed at the same things. it's been 8 months. he holds my hand and kisses my skin. he calls me after work. he burps. he farts. he's real. it's not the freefall, enveloping passion that i had with singapore, but then again, my life with The Guy isn't a fairy tale. did i mention the burping? The Guy is not my knight in shining armor. he's my best friend.

the other night i talked to singapore. he's just returned from LA for his latest clinical trials. the cancer continues to win the battles, it seems. we talked for half an hour. about my girls. the weather. his cancer. the snow in alaska. i thanked him for the big box of gifts he sent for christmas and the accompanying check to buy us each something special. after several minutes of talk i asked him if he was ever coming back to Texas. "i don't think so jewels." i could picture his face as he said it, "just nothing there for me anymore. and the project is so busy here, i can't ever see me going anywhere except maybe back to Singapore." he's an expat. all the way through.

i realized after i snapped my phone shut, that i had read all the chapters in this book. it was time to put it back on the shelf; let the years mellow the memory of the fairy tale.

so it's sayonara singapore.

goodbye alaska.

you win some and learn some.