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.

:)

Wise and Unwise Why's

PostSecrets fascinate me. I read them every chance I get. They are addicting! No, I haven't done one myself...mostly because I am not nearly as creative as those tormented (or delighted!)souls.

I found my own PostSecret at Target. I was in one of my hibernation spells - you know, where I don't answer the phone or the door or my email - but I needed to get some inserts for my little planner, so venture out I did.

As I looked for just the right paper product for my life changing (HA!) organizer, I came across the most extraordinary thing smack dab in the middle of a notepad on the shelf. I don't even know what made me flip through it!:


I do know this, though - it changed my whole night. It still affects me when I look at it now! Who wrote this? Was she (I am assuming the gender of the author and I know that is wrong. Sorry.) cheated on? Did her man (or woman - not assuming here) leave her for someone they knew? Or someone she trusted? Or someone the cheatee considered "less than"?

Perhaps the "her" in question got the job (or just the recognition) that the writer coveted. Or perhaps something unfathomable happened to the "her" and the question is aimed at God.

I am stunned by all of the perhaps's that these two words create.

And I am stunned by the answer that keeps sing-songing in my brain: Why NOT her?

Story Telling 101

Oh, yes. This is a topic that I am qualified to teach on.

Story Telling.

Not the kind that you enjoy, mind you. Not the kind of story with a moral, or the kind that actually has a beginning, middle or end, and not the kind that is passed down through the generations or gets told around the dinner table. No - I make a mess out of those kind of stories. Hell, I can't even tell a story about a happening in my day without getting completely off topic and most of the time forgetting what happening I was storying about!

The kind of Story Telling I am good at?

The kind that happens when the gray matter between my ears gets all whacked out on insecurity or injustice or some imaginary slight.

For instance: Running into a coworker in the hall - she is brief - I am surprised - I write a story. She is probably very upset that I did not listen closely to a presentation that she gave last week, and now she thinks that I am neglectful of our department issues. And this probably was discussed amongst others, including my supervisor, who coincidentally is giving me my yearly review next week, and now it will probably go badly for me...oh WHY can't I just pay attention during meetings??! Nice story, huh? (What REALLY happened: a vital employee gave his two weeks, throwing our holiday schedule into disarray, and stressing my coworker out to the point of distraction. Had nothing to do with me.)


Another example: Netflix has a special where I can update my Twoatatime package to Threeatatime for $.60. Just press HERE--->(button). I pressed. My credit card failed to authorize. For sixty cents. Oh my gawd...I write a story. I have somehow messed up my bank balance to the point where I am now so far in the hole that even my credit card is cut off! And now I bet that I will be on the streets by January at least - or even the end of December at this rate. And obviously they will come to take my car at some point, and I will have to concede to my ex that I just can't make it on my own and throw myself on his neverexisting mercy. The shame and horror was all consuming - and very destructive. Medal winning story. (What really happened? I moved. And the address on my NetFlix and card did not match - a quick update did the trick. Did I upgrade my package? No. Still too engrossed in my story.)

I have spent the last four days being cognizant of my Story Telling - and it has worked wonders on my state of confusion and agony. Every time my brain starts whirring and concocting and fabricating, I simply tell myself: You are writing a story. Stop it. Now.

My friends, boyfriend and family are all very grateful because it is very nice to not have to answer for things that haven't really happened anywhere but in my fancy little head.

No telling what kind of creativity I will come up with next...but let's hope that I use my powers for good and not evil. ;)

Highway Grand Opening

Part of my misery is my own damn fault. Funny how that works, and even funnier how hard it is to admit it, ah? Anyway!

Bah.

Three or four years ago when things in my mind were starting to muck up, and things in my household were becoming crystal clear for the dysfunction they were, I filled my life up with people that I only communicated with electronically. At first it was people from my Quit.net, and then it started to include people I met blogging, and then after my divorce it became people I met on dating sites who although I didn't get to date them (D asked for exclusivity immediately -flattering, but detrimental to the cause of seeing what all is out there...), I still had much communication through email and/or texting.

That all came to a grinding halt in the early fall when D expressed his displeasure with all of my random iPeople. So I cut off communication with them all. All of my flirty friends that made me laugh and giggle and blush, all of my intuitive friends that gave me great advice and stayed ever available for my sporadic need for repartee, even my concert buddy who still to this day does not know why he went to so many concerts by himself this year - I stopped "talking" to them all. And focused all of my attention on my relationship with D.

And there is where at least two of my four wheels start to come off the track. It seems that I am a high contact person who has an incredible need for near-constant socialization. Can one man - one amazing man, albeit - carry that humongous burden? Could he ever hope to get lucky at the art of keeping me even-keeled? No. No. He hasn't a snowball's chance in hell of meeting those particular needs of mine.

And so. Is it really fair? Is it fair that I put so much pressure on him to do the impossible? Would it be a blessing of immeasurable value and an enormous relief to have that responsibility and source of brain damage, that everpresent millstone around his neck removed?

Why, yes. I do believe I agree with you. I think I am reopening the terriberrisuperinformationhighway. I need those connections. They are a lifeline of sorts. And I miss them terribly.

There. You had no idea I was such an excellent giver and problem solver, did you? :)

Next Floor Level, Please

Is it the alignment of (or my misalignment with) the stars? Is it my emotional immaturity and baggage that I am left to reconcile in the aftermath of divorce? Is it insecurity about my future?

Criminy. I don't know.

There is something wrong with me. And I don't like it.

I used to be afraid that D would read my blog and find some reason to be upset with me. I used to be very careful to not put into words anything I couldn't back up in real life. I would refrain from sharing any difficult emotions or situation that hadn't already been resolved.

But now I know that I don't need to worry about D reading my blog. Or reading my emails. (Even the ones sent to him from me! HA!) Or listening to my voice messages - or even CD's. (Even SPECIAL CD's like the one I put together like some stupid teenager on our year anniversary!) Nope. Nada. Just won't do it. Wouldn't be prudent. And RETURN an email? Or a text? Whatever. I can go a whole day, sometimes two, without hearing from him. Take right now for instance: the last meaningful conversation we had was last week..before he left for Kansas.

Sometimes I am okay with this uncommunicative state, especially if I have just been in his arms for a weekend or so. I mean, who cares about stupid txt messages and phone calls and emails and cd's and blogs when you are in your man's arms? When I am okay with his radio silence I feel mature and whole and balanced.

But then other times - like right now - when I am floating out and around in this universe, completely by myself, scared and riddled with anxiety, it makes me feel so insignificant. It makes me feel like I have attached myself to someone (again) that does not feel the same way about me. And we all know how I feel about giving out more than I am getting back!

...it makes me feel invisible and lost and very, very alone.

I am literally holding myself down to keep from throwing it all away because I want to have a healthy relationship. And because I am not sure these minor transgressions are a true deal breaker. What if I am just being immature again? Or letting my imagined princess status become a demand? What if I am being a whiney, stereotypical girl? I mean, can I not hold myself together with my own strength? Can I not be by myself for a little while without coming unhinged?

I just don't know.

Right now I need strong arms around me, I need to feel safe and loved and cared for.

I need to matter.

And it is starting to feel dangerous.

Tberri's Overactive Lens

This is an actual marketing technique...these shoes are airport friendly! Does that mean that they slip on and off easily when moving through the Gestapo line, or does it mean that you can't store devices in them without being discovered? Does it mean that they won't make alot of noise when you are running to your gate only to find out that your plane has been delayed? Perhaps it means that you can jump up and down on the escalator and people mover while trying to entertain the children who have been stuck in the terminal for the last 13 hours? Perhaps they help you find your lost luggage...just perhaps!

Gotta get me some.




Hey - here is a plea for humanity...Don't take my contenner away please...please!! FGS! I love my contenner and I won't have you jackin' it from me again!

(This drip-catching contenner was found in front of the Chinese restaurant D and I go for lunch on Saturdays last year during the many weeks of melting and freezing snow.)

(Cute, isn't it?)





Oh yeah...got caught speeding again.

Thankfully, this time I was not the one sitting in the driver's seat.

I still may have been the cause for the excess speed...depends on who you talk to.

I feel innocent enough.

:)

Professional Head Banger

Criminy Almighty.

Sometimes the mental gymnastics that my mind does at any given part of the day give me the shivers.

My thought processes are NOT CORRECT! How is that possible? I am a smart girl. I am street smart (sort of) and book smart (a bit) but every once in awhile I am a complete NINCOMPOOP!

Aaaargh...

Last night I took a car load of girlfriends to Denver for a meeting - fun, outgoing, loud and boisterous girls. We had the very best time listening to music and comparing boyfriend/SO stories - some tales more serious than others. My contribution was the fact that D's secretary has a crush on him and texts him at all hours of the day and night. It drives me batty, but I say nothing. I am the cool girlfriend, right? Even though the secretary before her sent him pics of herself in her underwear (that happened last January...I just finally asked him about it a couple of weeks ago. I lack in the adressing issues department.) and even though we both know that it is innappropriate, I say nothing. I figured I would come off jealous and stupid. My friends thought this was a definite gaffe in handling him, and encouraged me to take measures to end this ill fated circumstance one way or the other - "because you just can't hold stuff in like that...it's unhealthy". An ultimatum if you will.

So...blech.
After coming down to meet me for drinks and dinner, he launched into a story about said secretary/skankho sharing tales of her notsorecent tummy tuck. A very innocent exchange between the two, I am sure. But just her name (and the beer I was drinking) pushed me right over the edge and boy, howdy, didn't I just tell HIM that it was either her or I, and that I would not put up with this type of innappropriateness and neither should he?! Oh. Yes. I. Did.

After about two hours of nonsensical back and forth BS that ranged from how often he did/didn't call me, how much time he spent talking to her, what type of texts she sent vs. mine, etc. he fell asleep when I took a potty break. I wiped him clean out with my psycho girlfriend routine.

I woke him up with a treat this morning...and then shared the one special lesson that I learned from all of our headbanging excersises: The reason why we sometimes hold in things we feel and think is because they are stupid and should NOT be let out.

He forgave me.

...and then his phone buzzed with a message.

Ugh.

Driving Ms.Terri

I am still racing to Littleton and back when I don't have the kids. It's 180 miles round trip. It's 25,000 miles on my car in the last year and one month.
Is it worth it? Yeah...it is. Does he come see me? Sometimes - but not very often...he has a different parenting schedule than I do, so it is a much more difficult practice for him. Do I resent that? Yeah, I guess I do sometimes!
It is hard to be a single mother of three with all of the same bills I had when I was married, paying gas prices per gallon that rival the price of a gallon of Orange Juice, and working a full time plus a part time job AND commuting three hours a day. It gets old.
But he does little things that make it feel better. One Saturday before I woke up, he took my car down and had it detailed. Sometimes when we are using my vehicle he will just randomly pull into a gas station and fill it up to the tiptop. And clean my windows. He lets me use his VIP service package - and has even footed the bill for my maintenance visits.
Now there is another sweet little thing to add to his pro list - he ordered me a transponder for the toll road. Yep. I have my very own transponder that will assist me in my racing endeavors...it will save me about an hour round trip.
I know. My idea of romantic is skewed. Whatever.
I am happy.
:)

Just put that over there...

I have a new house - and it is all me. I didn't move into it because it was my only option, or because I was in a hurry, or because I was being rescued or "taken care of".

I actually chose it! I day dreamed about it, drove by it every chance I got, moved all the furniture around in my head, redid the blinds in my imagination and thought of nothing else until FINALLY - I got the call that it was mine.

I moved in this last weekend.

That's when I discovered how many things I left behind in the marriage dissolution...things that have been provided for me over the past year but are not mine to take to a new house. Things that are integral to running a household that feels like home to three children!

I needed a washerdryerqueenbeddresserdesktwotwinmattressesdiningroomtableandchairs, and I needed them right away. So - I did what any single mom would do - I stalked Craigslist.

Oh my heavens! I have found the neatest things on Craigslist for the greatest prices...I don't think I will ever shop at a furniture store again.

What I DIDN'T think about was how to move all of these said bargains. Those are some heavy items and some were located quite far away!

So - I did what any single mom would do -

I called my ex husband for help.

...and he came running.

I am a very blessed single mom. Blessed and well housed.

Wanna come over for a house warming party??!

Don't Let the Door Hit You...

I have been working so hard. So very hard. I didn't have the kids this weekend, so that made things easier, but I DO still have the boyfriend.

Every night I get off work and race to Denver like I stole something, just so I can fall asleep in his arms - and then I wake up in the morning and race back. Sometimes it is everything I need it to be, and sometimes it only makes me feel more alone. By the time I got to Friday of this week, there was no telling what I was going to be feeling like.

And that, of course, is where the trouble begins with me.

We both got off work at the same time - he went to a friend's house for drinks, I got on the highway to do my flyinglowundertheradar rountine. He called every twenty minutes or so for an update, giving instructions like "Call me when you get to Arapahoe", etc.

When I got to the last offramp by his house, I followed directions and rang him to let him know I was almost there. To which he responded by saying something cheesey (but wonderful) like "Wooohooo! Heaven is only ten minutes away!" and then teasing me about meeting him at the door naked.

I got there first. I opened the blinds. Let the dog in. Made a pot of coffee. Loaded the dishwasher. Unloaded the dryer. Checked my email. Checked my voicemail. Went to the mailbox and got the mail. Put the dog out. Loaded the washer. Let the dog back in...and then got a beer.

Somewhere in my head I decided that this is not how I think Friday night for me is supposed to pan out- so I gave myself a deadline. If that boy didn't show up in another 15, I was out.

Fifteen came - I left. I didn't even know where to drive to! I just drove. I reviewed my internal list of friends in Denver and tried to get myself together enough to call one of them to hang with for awhile.

I must have been unconciously sending alarm signals through the air, because I hadn't even made it out to the interstate yet before he started to call. He called 12 times. He ran my voice mailbox out of room. Listening to the messages I realized that he didn't even know I had left the house yet! He just thought I wasn't answering his calls on ANY phone.

When I finally parked and called him back, I really expected him to say something akin to "If you are that impatient, why don't you just keep on going?". But he didn't. He was devestated that he hurt me. Asked me to please come "home" - he had invited my friends over for cards and drinks, and he needed to put his arms around me before they got there.

I got to the house first. Opened the door, turned on the lights, let the dog in, freshened up my tearstained face - and then he finally came barreling through the door, hollering,"Baby! Where are you?!". The hug he gave me was the very best hug I have ever had. I have not in my WHOLE life felt as loved or as complete as I did in that moment. That made me cry again.

Later, when we talked about where our disconnect was, I explained to him that I don't ever want him to not be excited to see me. The minute he doesn't look forward to coming home to be with me, I want out. I told him that I know in my heart that there is someone out there that thinks I am amazing...and if it isn't him, he needs to let me GO!

He kissed my eyes, and my nose, and my mouth ...all the while whispering,"Cort, you are the most amazing creature I have ever met.".

And I believed him.

Tall Skinny HalfCaf Latte with Three Pumps and No Foam

...had to fire my barista today. That makes me really sad.

Partly because I did like her alot. Partly because she fit in with the rest of my staff.

But mostly because I will be THE barista for the next 10 days until they find someone to replace her.

Not my idea of fun. Unless Bailey's is involved. :)

Regret and a Gallon of Milk

How funny!

I run away from everyone and everything in order to just be myself and perhaps grow a bit...you know, get some stuff figured out and all that rot - and invariably, I start to miss the way things were.

That is quite the commentary on my whole life cycle.

I don't miss being married, though. What I do miss is having someone to help share in the day to day things. The chores. The bills. The groceries. Isn't that terrible??! I should miss having a friend and a comrade, someone to curl up with at night, someone to have coffee with me on the deck in the morning, etc.

Those are all the things that Mr. H wanted so much - and as it turns out, so did I. I just didn't want it with him. Why didn't I?

I was a terrible wife.

I am sorry.

False alarm

My horoscope today told me not to cry wolf...or was it yesterday? Whatever. The resulting apprehension is the same. Everyone knows what happened to the little boy who cried wolf - he got ate all up! A quick review of my actions and reactions in the previous week has provided me with plenty of moments that could be identified as wolf-crying behaviour.

Not that I actually cried wolf out loud...mostly I did it in my head - and mostly it was a scream.

I will continue to monitor my activities in order to prevent an over dramatization of events and feelings, especially those that every normal person deals with at some time or another.

My life is good. My amazing children are healthy. I have a job. I have a man who really likes me. I have great parents.

...and I have a future...

No wolves anywhere near me as far as I can see.

Undesireable Baggage

Oh. My. God.

What a terrible mess this all is...I have definitely taken my tornado tendencies to new porportions and really jacked my life all up.

Honestly! I am so out of control at this point, I don't know how to get it back under reign.

I need to stop drinking. I need to learn to say no. To soooo many things.

I need some direction and some redemption.

Most of all, I need mercy.

I really am sorry...

Lung Smudgin'

I have pneumonia. I do! I have been sick now for a month...three days of that flat on my back in bed. I don't understand it.

I know that it appears that I have brought an illness upon myself by playing so hard, but I have to tell you that I have ALWAYS played so hard, and have NEVER gotten just plain pancaked like this. It is very frustrating. But whatever.

Someone suggested an indian ceremony complete with smudging to drive the spirits out of my lungs...If I get that desperate I will take video, alright?

Took my oldest daughter to Big Gig this weekend, and OH that was fun! She is fifteen now, and old enough to make my life miserable, but for the most part she chooses to rock out with mom whenever given the chance. I am grateful for the common ground.

I am also thankful that I can take her around my friends and other loved ones and she melds right in. It feels really nice when people ask me to bring her along for outings...just because she is fun and pleasant to be around.

Please remind me of this when she is tormenting me again.

Sneakers

I am a sneaky one.

I don't mean to be deceptive. I only mean to disappear and reinvent.

I don't mean to cut anyone out of my life intentionally. But to take you along only reminds me of the failures I could not rectify.

I don't mean to be shady, or flaky, or unstable. But I cannot sustain the thought processes that I am abandoning.

Thats why I am bowing out...moving on...recreating.

Call it what you want - just don't look back, and don't expect me to look back either.