Employee Compensation Restructure

Employee Compensation Restructure ... sounds fancy, huh?

It means you are losing your job.

Not YOU - me.

I lost my job.

For the next three months my only job is to LOOK for a job.

...and I have never been happier in my life.

Thank you, God/Universe, for this miracle that usually means devastation and harm.

I will use every opportunity you bring my way to the fullest.

Alcohol Malfunction

I drank tequila last night.

It was supposed to be an innocuous drink. A sangria swirl, if you will. Frozen sangria and a frozen margarita in one luscious goblet served with a straw.

It had tequila in it.

I spent what was supposed to be a beautiful night with my sweetheart laying away from him on the very farthest corner of the bed, listening to him snore. Fitfully snore. Randomly, he would even make that sound where the snore has plugged up his nose and is suffocating him to death. I stared at the ceiling, the wall, the pillow, and his nose (willing it to stop making those awful noises) for four and 1/2 hours.

And it was all my fault.

I drank tequila and unleashed my tongue.

Gah.

Hey! It's me! ME! You remember -that ONE girl! (OR - A Bap Story)

*sigh*

Honestly, I don't know why I let things go so far. I mean, this is my BLOG, FGS! Everyone else that I know that has a blog uses it regularly. And to the betterment of mankind. And to make Earth a more better place to live.

Not me. I just use mine to make sure that I can post cheesy comments on all of those humanitarian blog sites. It's like having a homebase - one that I don't live at.

(Huh. That is a great description of my house! I use it as homebase, but I don't live here. And I digress. Just like ole times, ah? :))

I have so many things to tell you about, but first things first. And one thing at a time. That is my game plan, anyway.

Guess what??! (No...I didn't get a speeding ticket. Not in this story. Stay tuned if you want to hear a funny story on THAT particular subject.)

I got into a real life accident in Littleton! Yep. All by myself. I was looking down at my phone in my lap contemplating what smartmouth thing I was going to text my boyfriend about how ridiculous it was that I was having to go pick up his son from football practice AND then go pick up son's best friend for a sleepover AND then try to figure out how to keep them all entertained while boyfriend continued working and making me waste MY day off and how I was going to put all of that in one little sentence without using shorthand because you know how I hate text shorthand and think that it is lowbrow and kind of creepy because that is what all the creepos use when they are trying to hit on you and get you to send topless pictures of yourself on Yahoo...when WHAM! I let my foot off of the brake to follow the car in front of me through the green light (which I saw out of the corner of my eye, by the way) and then. She. Stopped. And I hit her. Not very hard, mind you...more like a tap. (Not a soft tap, maybe more like a rap. Between a rap and a bam. A bap. I BAPPED her.)

I put my car in park, grabbed up my phone that I suddenly didn't feel like texting on anymore, and walked like a man going to his hanging in the direction of the car I had violated. (Bapped.)

"Are you okay???", I asked the lady inside. "I have the paramedics coming", she moaned, "I had a stroke last year and I will need to be checked out".

Oh. A stroke. Well, THAT sucks. What can you say past news like that? Bring on the ambulance!

And bring on they did. Two ambulances. Two firetrucks. Two state troopers. One Arapahoe Sheriff. A whole lane full of red and blue and orange lights to alert everyone else in the state of CO that I had rearended this lady in the merge-on-to-c470-lane. Oh. My. Heavens.

The EMT's hauled the lady off on a stretcher while the troopers and sheriff inspected my insurance paperwork and eyeballed for damage on our vehicles. Which there was none of. None. There was NO damage from our little Bap.

The EMT's came back to my car to let me know that everything was just fiiiiine with the lady, and not to worry one little bit. The CO State Trooper teased me about my bald tires (bald from racing back and forth to see boyfriend!) and the Arapahoe Sheriff regaled me with stories of accidents he had seen in just this same area - some of them horrific! The Firemen just winked as they walked by...no, they didn't. But they did wave and smile. I was the one doing the winking. No - I didn't either.

Everything was right as rain until it came time for the final paperwork. (DumdumDUMMMMM!) Because there was an ambulance involved and I had rearended the poor lady, I got a ticket for Careless Driving Resulting in Bodily Injury. And because I am a poverty-stricken-single-mother-of-three, I didn't have proper tags on my car. Ugh.

Those combined charges: A court appearance.

The poor lady's charge to the respective insurance companies: Extensive head and neck injuries and a totaled car due to a massive collision from behind.

FML.

(to be continued)

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall...

Assignment- find one food word to describe who you are at this very moment: Hmmm.

I am an omelet. Yes. An omelet made by a four year old.

Scrambled. Jumbled. Full of great ingredients, but without a definable shape. (That's where the chef's age comes into play. The omelets you are accustomed to probably resemble a half circle which IS a shape. The omelet I am is a glop.)I am a fulfilling experience - unless you get too much of me, and then I will cause a belly ache. Also, too much of me will affect the health of your heart. Adversely, it seems.

Oh - and then there is the part where regular indulgence in me will create familiarity which will breed contempt. You will be sick of omelets.

I am light in color and sometimes fluffy. Occasionally, I will change up all of my ingredients and become a new creation. But alas - even with the reinventions, I am still just an omelet. I can pair well with any beverage, but Bloody Mary's bring out the best in me.

I guess being an omelet is better than being a pork chop. Or a brussel sprout.

What's YOUR food persona? ;)

Signs of Life

I am here! I am alive! I am happy and healthy and blah, blah, blah...

I was looking through my past blogging history and noting my ups and downs...particularly those times when I hermitize and/or start a whole new blog. It's as if I can't even bother to try to find the words that describe where I am or who I am at that moment, so I will either ditch and burn or hide and watch.

Anyway. There isn't any ditching and burning today, and I have been hiding and watching for so long that my default blog setting doesn't even go to my own blog anymore. HA!

I am getting ready to take my beloved children to D's house to have a fish fry with his beloved children. And I don't like fish fry's. But I do like D. And our children.

...I am taking mustard. And a camera.

Crash and Burn...

...and she's down, folks.

(Be right back - looking for rock bottom.)

Life's like a ...

...jumprope! Ha. You thought I was gonna pull a gump on ya and say box of chocolates, huh? Well, I didn't. So there.

This more modern phrase of describing life's inherent qualities comes from the new album by Blue October - who Taylor and I had the pleasure of seeing in concert earlier this month. Blue October, not the album. Although, we did buy the album. But not until after the concert.

Anyway! Criminy.

It has been quite the week around here...what with the seven year old and nine year old melting down into puddles of rage and hatred aimed at mommy, and the death of my skeeter cat(who my ex got custody of - before she died, not after), my mind surely has had to work extra hard to think only about myself.

But life is getting smoother. Easier. More full of pleasantries than dark moments.

On the current upswing that I am finally getting to experience (I think my ups and downs might be chartable)I am writing down a few goals that although seem unachievable in my current state, it won't be harmful to believe and make strides towards making them accomplishments.

Pondering #1: Am I experiencing a midlife crisis?

I don't know.

I don't feel like finding a twenty year old to use and abuse for my own sexual gratification (29, maybe...well, anywhere from 29 to 49...but I digress) and I thought that was supposed to be the major indicator of said crisis. I don't feel like a boob job and a convertible will be the answer to my maladies. New car, new job, bigger house, jewelry - none of those things will complete me!

I am attending a convention next weekend - a life coaching seminar, if you will. I am intrigued and excited. I am also skeptical and apprehensive. I am a preacher's daughter, remember? And I have partaken in many a church camp and revival...I know all of the buzz words and the vocal triggers for amping emotions to riotous highs. But I am also of the mind that I will not reject something out of hand just because I have preconceived notions of how it will NOT meet me where I am.

One of my new goals (and something that I already have experienced but have cast by the wayside in the last emotion-ridden year) is to expect and accept those impossible things, those gifts, those miracles that we are all offered but have difficulty accepting.

I am expecting only good things. This will mean constant vigil on my dreary, negative, fear-numbed thought process.

See? I have doubt already that I can maintain that vigil! But I will overcome. Right now.

...all smiles...
;)t

Do Something QUICK! ohwait...nevermind.

Well, crap.

Guess what?

I am not feeling anything. Not hoping, not caring, not loving, not hating, dreading or fearing.

Nothing.

There is no angle in my limited little world that is holding true to form. Rather, every detail is blending...all smooshing together in one muddy swirl.

I think that I am trying so hard to feel something - anything - and only nothing can come from such misguided exertion.

I have been wrestling in this quagmire for quite some time. Years, I think. Causing drama on an ever increasing level to get that sigh of relief from knowing that I am still capable of change in altitude.

Does this have anything to do with D? Or divorce? Or my mum and pop? Or some repressed anger from childhood? Or perhaps an undiagnosed demon? (HA!)

Nope.

It's just me. Me, and my closed up doors and windows with the phone turned off for good measure.

And a tall glass of wine. Not tall in the Starbuck's sense, either.

I am sure to be better soon. It's my pattern.

...night.

Hiding Under the Carpet with My Words

My mom and her husband came to visit me from NH for a week. Yeah - the same mom that gave me the intervention the week before I got served with divorce papers. Same mom. Turns out she loves me. (The ex-husband did not. Who would'a guessed?!)

Anyway - she and Bob stayed with the kids and I, and oh MAN did we ever have fun! Lots of laughing and games and even a really long hike up in Rocky Mountain National Park. Good for the soul, moms are.

But that isn't the only reason why you haven't seen me for awhile. There are a few more, such as the fact that I have been reading so many other people's blogs that there simply isn't time for my own! Besides that, aren't we all getting tired of my "I'm so happy and life is amazing/my heart is broken and life is nothing but mud puddles" circle of life? I wanted to go ride on other people's roller coasters. Oh my heavens, I have learned so much. So much about things that I will never experience - and in most cases, that is just fine. I can do the vicarious experience forever with no qualms.

Why am I writing in my own blog tonight?

Ugh.

Well.

I am avoiding an issue.

I am supposed to be writing an email explaining what exactly happened last Saturday night. It is my homework to sort it out in writing (because he knows I can't talk in words...I have to use my fingers on a keyboard to say what I really mean)and to share with D what my experience was so that he can possibly prevent a rerun.

No, I didn't cause a scene. No, I didn't reproach, whine, wheedle, nag, or punish anyone for anything.

But I did watch him and another girl sharing very intimate moments at a friend's birthday party - strange for two people who were only supposed to know each other through the neighbor. Hands brushing, knees leaning casually on thighs, heads too close and the whispering too soft for birthday party conversation. Lingering eyes on one another as one walked through the door to the adjoining room. All of my alarm bells were clanging - I mistook them for the sound of dangerously accelerating blood pressure in my ears.

It reminded me of the final days of my marriage - watching another scene much the same, only with my husband and a friend. So uncomfortable. So awkward. I wanted to crawl under the carpet, behind a door, or anywhere that would keep them from seeing my face heat up and my eyes blinking back the tears of shame and betrayal. I felt like I should remove myself from the room - as if I were an intruder on an intimate moment between rightful lovers.

Which is what I did.

In both cases.

Which went unnoticed in both cases.

However, this time, in the very wee hours of the morning, I was discovered sorting it out with my face in the pillow and my arms wrapped around my middle so as to not to make a sound.

I didn't tell him anything of what I had seen. I couldn't. The words would not appear.

Mercifully, he allowed me to be silent while he held me close and dried my face with his hands. He murmured soothing sounds over and through the roaring in my ears...and I let him lull me to sleep.

We didn't speak of it again - and I thought the matter was dropped, and I also assumed that he would prefer it that way! Until I got the email this morning from him asking for an explanation for the tears. He said that he knew I communicated best with my writing. That he had waited until I could write from the comfort and safety of my own home. And that he knew we could untangle this mess, just like we had untangled all the others ... through prose and carefully metered dialogue.

But I can't. I can't say the words, I can't write the words, I can't even mouth the words!

I am running away. I have been given the opportunity to have the correct response to a painful situation, and I am going to mess it up this time, too.


I wonder how long he will wait for me to answer...

State of the Terri Address

I really only have four "State of Being" status'.

Sure, there are variations of them, strange combinations to be sure, and even some hybrids. Those of you who know me will have experienced some if not all of these personality facets at one time or another. I have identified them as follows:

1- Magnanimous, nurturing, generous and wise.
2- Peevish, selfish, narrow minded and suspicious.
3- Hopelessly optimistic, in tune with the flow of consciousness, effervescent and childlike.
4- Fearful, jaded, sharp tongued and cynical.

Perhaps those four could be combined into two? I don't know. I DO know that I experience the more pleasant parts of me more frequently. I wonder if others would say the same.

Right now I am feeling rebellious (which personality does THAT fit into??)...like I have been held down too long and am aching to break free. But free of what?

I have ceremoniously destroyed all influences (except for my boss, obviously) that have had any power over how I conduct my life. I didn't do that on purpose, mind you. But now I alone am the only restriction to buck against!

I don't mind feeling rebellious or adventurous or like breaking free - I only mind the clean up after I have gone on my little indulgent spree. The price can be too high.

I am going to try and morph into the wisemagnaminousgenerousnurturer before morning.

The Holy Six-Pack

I am not a blasphemous person.

I am a preacher's daughter. My mother, although well versed in how to destroy a haughty, holier-than-thou evangelist using the Holy Bible as a Two-Edged Sword, taught me to to have reverence and respect for my God.

I was raised nondenominational charismatic (which has since become a denomination. Crazy huh?). D is Catholic. His ex, the Beauty Queen converted to Catholicism, his mom and dad and brother are Catholic - hell, his whole childhood town in Kansas is Catholic. I defer out of sheer outnumberedness. And also because I don't really care what denomination a congregation is. My God is still there.

We usually go to Mass with his children on the Sundays that I have to take my children to their father's house. I drive like a bat out of hell to make it on time, fully dressed and ready to attend Mass.

Well, at least my outer clothes are appropriate for Mass...my underclothes are anticipating a whole different scenario. But I digress.

Invariably, it has been a whole week to ten days since I have last had any physical contact by the time I get there, so I am a bit starved. Okay - a lot starved! Sometimes I am afraid people can hear my body beg them to touch me. And at Mass, this is inappropriate behavior. Also, it is inappropriate thinking. Not that it is appropriate behavior or thinking at the supermarket, either, but you know what I mean.

During the communion that I am not allowed to partake in (because I am not Catholic), I found my mind wandering and my eyes roving through the congregation. What a wonderful cross-section of humanity a church is!
Trying to keep my thoughts pure and my body from shouting, I focused on family structures and the recognizable dynamics of proper two parent/wonderful children units.

I swear I wasn't looking at the Tall Smoldering Dark and Handsome with the bicep tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. I promise that I wasn't gazing back into BlueEyed, CleanCut, All American's steady gaze. I was at Mass with my boyfriend and his children for gawds sake! LITERALLY!

Directing my point of view back to the pulpit and pageantry was a difficult and necessary task - and also where I decided that I could never, ever enter a confession booth, because the penalty for my next thought would surely be too high.

As I glanced up at the Statue of Christ on His Cross, I heard myself muse,"Huh. Wow. Those are some great abs. I didn't even know He worked out..."

Please don't be angry with me, friends - blasphemy and disrespect was not my intent.

As punishment, God did not allow me to have any alone time with D whatsoever for the entire night, and here I am on Monday. Alone. Skin starving. Body shouting. And doing penance as dutifully as I can.

Well, isn't this a fine howdy-do?

Fourteen posts (approximately), 15 months (or so), thousands of miles on my car (on average), and exactly ONE (selfmade) rollercoaster later:

I am ready to move on to something else now. This whole grownup dating thing got boring real fast.

Let's go do something different. Like what, I don't know yet. But we can figure something out. It has to be fun, and it has to make us feel alive, and it has to be inexpensive. For a little while, anyway. And it can't be illegal.

Who's in??

Swift Kick for the Sad Kangaroo

Halloween 2008

"Quart? Are you still coming over tonight?" D asks with some bewilderment attached. I have yet to drive to Denver since the weekend before last...a complete change in the schedule we have kept for the last year and three months.

But I am going tonight. And I am excited.

We have disected the weekend (his idea) to find our disconnect, and to make sure it doesn't happen again. Communication seems to be the biggest factor - I assume much more than I actually ask. He doesn't tell me because he assumes I already know. What a mess.

But MOST importantly, I had some decisions to make and some growing up to do. I know, hard to believe, ah?

I am the one who put myself in the precarious adoring girlfriend position. That in itself does not entail me to any special privileges...more, it puts me at a disadvantage. I cannot expect someone else to give as much as I do just because it's fair.

I have to pull back so that I don't get so resentful, so dissillusioned - so...so...DRAMATIC!

Yes, I am embarrased and yes a bit redfaced, but I am determined to practice this relationship skill NOW while it matters so that I won't have to put anyone else through this brain damage.

And you won't have to cringe for me so much in the future when you read my posts! :)

Hope Doesn't Float (when you hold it underwater)

Well, THAT was short-lived. I am apparently a fickle flake. I did not know this about myself, so please forgive me while I digest this new information.

D went hunting - not a surprise trip, and definitely not an unsupported trip - in Kansas. He was gone for three days. Friday afternoon he called my phone at a time he knew I would not be able to answer, and left a message. I refer to this style of message as the Kansas KissOff. I have gotten it a few times now.

"Hey Baby, on the road, almost out of cell phone range, have a great weekend with your kids, I'll talk to you later!".

Translation: Hey Baby, I left already, but I waited until I was almost out of cell phone range to call and let you know, and I don't expect to be in touch the entire weekend so don't count on it, but don't despair either - I will let you know when I am home for your adoration and ministrations.

He did indeed talk to me later - but by that time it was too late.

He definitely was not expecting the emotional mess I disintegrated in to, and because I couldn't even explain it to myself, I had no plausible explanation for him. When he left I was a giggly, smoochy-faced silly girl - and when he came back I was a sobbing, indecipherable wreck.

He wasn't mean, defensive or angry. Confused, for sure. I did take ownership of my own meltdown because I am smart enough to know that I am responsible for my own emotions and actions, and he LET me because we both knew that my reaction was over the top. He apologized for "whatever it is that I did that made you feel this bad"...and he meant it, I am positive. And then he was tired from his long weekend of partying and hunting, so it was time for him to go to sleepgoodnightIhopeyouarebetterinthemorningpleasegawd.

When my sobbing on the bed finally stopped, it was very quiet in my little house.

Something was different.

It was me.

I (think I) want to break up.

Hope is a cute pair of shoes

Photo courtesy of PostSecrets 1-4-09

This year is going to be amazing. I can feel it in my tummy! I know that the economy is bad, and I know that the politics are jacked, and I know that Yellowstone is probably going to blow up in the next few months and wipe us all of the face of the earth. But - there is something else, too.

Hope. HOPE! It's all bubbling around in me...in my head, my heart, and yes, even my tummy. Hope for better relationships with my mom and my dad and their families. Hope for a more stable relationship with my ex husband and his crazy, cannibalistic freak show of a clan. Hope for growth and exploration with my children. Hope for solidification and stability in my friendships.

And hope for finally being where I am supposed to be. And hope for being loved like I have always needed to be loved. And hope for growing into my own skin and becoming who I was intended to be.

This year is going to be amazing.

:)