a reason for coffee…

I have a question for you all, assuming that there are still readers lurking about…! lol =) As you may remember from 2014, I spent a GREAT deal of time wasting my time on fruitless coffee-dates with men who turned out to be in a class of their own… and not necessarily of the good variety. I met no axe-murderers, felons, or other deeply unsavory characters, but DID meet enough men to realize that there is no man in CT for me, save The Lineman, which is a sad and cautionary tale for another day, preferably while laying on a beach drinking cold beer, but I digress.

So I am off men, as I seem to have a penchant for loving truly and completely only those who I cannot have for the long haul. If things ever DO work out with The Lineman, I will be thrilled beyond words, but I will not go looking for something to distract me for the interim and prefer to have it be him or none. No worries, this was a happy-making decision for yours truly. =)

At any rate, I had a point back there a ways… OH YES! I am swimming, or rather doing water rehab every morning at the pool, and I was surprised at how many people take advantage of the early morning hours to work the kinks out of their broken backs, shoulders, and knees. We are a youngish bunch, and rather vocal, so the routine has become a source of interaction as well as breath-stealing pain for me. Of course (you know me by now…) I met someone who is interesting, non-threatening, and despite meeting me in my swimwear, seems to have no sexual or otherwise nefarious intentions towards my person, nor did he swim screaming from the sight. He is clever, pleasant, none too hard on the eyes, and well-spoken. He also is tall and has a goatee in the manner of the loves of my deep past, so while I am HONESTLY not going anywhere with this, he has captured enough of my interest that I speak to him as well, even in more than​ monosyllabic words. =)

You may remember that I am shy on friends of my own age-group, being fairly new to the area and in college with children, so meeting someone who does not make me want to slap them is a rarity, be they of the male or female persuasion. So… kind reader, is a goatee enough of a reason to put on actual clothes and have a conversation with this one on dry land? I would get a coffee out of the deal, which of course has me pondering the idea. BUT… how early is too early to let a man know you truly only want to be friends? Nothing else has ever even been suggested, but with my track record and advancing age, I will take no chances to get caught up in any kind of insanity with a new and grueling semester on the​ horizon​. ​Am I making too much of this? How can you tell when a coffee is just a coffee? And can a woman ever really be just friends with a man anyway? I had been seriously debating buying a cheap gold band to wear​ and telling​ the world I am a widow​, but that seems too much like tempting the Fates, and I have done​ that often enough to know​ the disastrous results that follow.

In other news, I am only down 3 pounds, but my shirts are fitting slightly looser in areas, so I am trying to stay away from the scale and focusing on the buoyant​ feeling inside of me after working out, as limited as it may be. Keep me in your thoughts, you all, and with any luck, I will be snowshoeing​ in smaller ski pants come the new year!!

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reasons why my ex is not Satan…

It is sad-making as well as appalling the number of women who broil their ex-significant others online, be it in their own space or on any number of social media websites. The irony is that as adults, we all know that once we put things out there, there can be no guarantee or privacy, and while I do understand the therapeutic quality of letting go once and again, am curious to what end these rants accomplish. Is it to feel empowered, to feel safe, or simply one-upmanship?

I am not speaking of people who endured abuse, regardless of situation, but of those who are getting a fair sum of money, support for their children, and in some cases, even a birthday card or two. WHY do humans delight in mudslinging over acts of kindness? In shrieking with laughter at the discomfort of others, when we know how painful discomfort is? Why must the collective WE continue to disappoint, wallowing in the base reactions of humanity instead of finding ways to uplift us all?

I am writing today about my own Hubby-no-More. He will not see this post, so it is not self-serving in this way, but in another, one for just me, and those of you who decide to grab a coffee and read my meager words. I am here to say that despite our differences, discomforts, and even down-right fights, my ex is not the enemy. Sure, he stands for a life wrenched from me, but one I also willingly mentally vacated years before his courage brought us to a sad goodbye. Without further ado, here are a few reasons why he is not Public Enemy #1, Mr. Hyde, Dorian Gray, or any other manner of wretched human being that so many claim to have shared part of a life with.

1. He willingly gives me more, by a good percentage, than the court requires.
2. He pays for ALL of our foxling’s medical care, including insurance, co-pays, therapy, meds, and everything else, literally, leaving me with a 0% liability.
3. He does these things so I can stay in school without working, thereby allowing me to qualify for scholarships not otherwise available to me, as well as allowing me to keep the near-perfect GPA.
4. He encouraged me to re-sign my lease for another year, at an increased cost to himself, in order to give me weekly access to our child, even though said child is almost​ 17 and really couldn’t care less if I resided here or on Mars. =)
5. He responds to my texts usually within 24 hours, even when he pulls a 12-hour​ shift at the hospital. This is better than my school advisor, mother, and several friends. ​
6. His girlfriend invited me over to meet their new kittens, because I do not have any of my own, and we visited all morning without weirdness. Ok, this one really isn’t him per se, but it was his house, and his kittens​, so it counts in my book.

I could go on, but have classes this afternoon, a presentation, and working on an independent research proposal for next spring. My point? I realize many people, both men and women, have an ogre for an ex. BUT… not all of us do. Not every human in possession of a dick is a dick. And for us to air only our dirty laundry instead of our blessings is to perpetuate the stigma surrounding divorce and parenthood under less-than-ideal​ circumstances. I am tired of reading only about the negative, so thought I would​ share some positive vibes. Please chime in if you have something​ to share. Thanks as always for being there, peeps… Have a lovely!

hello, wednesday…

It does not escape me that I am an English major, one who has found a passion for the structured intricacies​ of form and function rules of our ever-adapting language, yet I insist on NOT capitalizing the titles of posts. Is this a quirk, an unconscious play on words, or simply a middle finger thrown at the thesis board committee? Probably a mix of the three, as we have already established I am rather a complex creature… =)

At any rate, I find another week half gone, January melting away faster than the disappearing snow from the filthy shrubs lining my Little House in the Big Wood. I was tempted to set aside my schoolwork today and chat here by an unexpected visit from an old bloggity friend. I realized last night that I miss the interaction with you all, the ones who have been around for the long haul, and the new ones who have such insight to share with yours truly.

However, as previously discussed, I am metamorphosizing at an alarming rate, and my wants and needs develop and shift seemingly with the wind. Of course, there is more to it that that… I am becoming something more, something new, improved, and focused. As it is with everyone, I must decide what I want, what I need, and where this space fits into my increasingly busy days. I can tell you that I am here to stay, even when it seems I have disappeared. =)

So what has this student been up to as of late? I am taking 5 upper-level courses this semester, with EDU designators, finally signifying my first steps toward licensure​ in my chosen field. I am also enjoying my Chaucer class, much to my amazement and delight​. It is frightfully hard, and my professor is so brilliant​ my head hurts after a convo with her, but after only 3 lectures I have already learned SO MUCH! While I am not going to take my grad degree in Medieval Literature, this does prepare me well for my Senior Seminar, as well as meeting ALL upper-level​ requirements for both school and state. So I was able to make a truly smart choice when registering, for a change. Feels good to be a bit in control, even if it is only the illusion of control and nothing like the real thing… I wonder how I will fit back into the “real” world once my degrees are done, and “all” I have​ to do is work, and not plan every decision 9 months ahead? ​My sweet Paul, 21 months into our relationship (how the HELL has it been so long already??!!), still does not “get” my need to constantly do so much ahead of time. His work as a lineman consists basically of putting out fires all day. Something​ breaks, he fixes it. Something blows up, he replaces it. Tornado blows away lines, he strings new. Drunk driver rams pole​ at midnight, his crew is there to dig a spot to plunk down a new one. All this while dealing with enough voltage to literally disintegrate anyone foolish enough to not be completely aware​ of their surroundings every moment of the obligatory 20-hour​ shifts… in other words, he REACTS. It suits him; he is great under pressure, calm in an emergency. But planning ahead? Not so much. Where he has spent the last 20 years trying to not burst into flames, I have spent the last 3 laying foundations for professional exams 2 years out. Ridiculous, no? How will I ever learn to live in the present again? I am hoping with enough homework-free weekends and cold beer, I will adjust just fine.

And here I am once again, not saying anything of real import, but blathering on in true Tish-fashion. But as you all know me so well, I am hoping you would not have it any other way. Namaste, peeps. Glad to be back, and glad that you decided to stick around. =)

Hatred Cannot Be Our Answer…

In the early hours of November 9th 2016 Donald Trump won the 2016 Election and become President Elect of the United States of America. If you are looking for details of that story, you have come to…

Source: Hatred Cannot Be Our Answer…

true story…

2 inhalers, 2 antibiotics, a shot, steroids, and a medicated gargle. After 5 days of sick, Nyquil-induced, hallucinating-but-mostly-sleepless nights, had 2 Dr. appointments, blood work, and a chest x-ray, leading to the list that began this post. Just so you know I am really sick, and not just taking a day off to bask in the sun…

Emailed a professor to ask for a 24-hour extension on ONE of the papers due in her class this week.  Got a terse “no, but thanks for asking” reply, and was told if she had been “in bed” all week, she certainly would have had time to not only finish paper but email copies to and from the peer review group to which I belong…

Am going to assume the following:

  1. She is an ass.
  2. She has never had simultaneous bronchitis, sinus infection, full body rash due to allergy to first antibiotic.
  3. She has never spent 2 days shaking from the inhalers and steroids, trying to keep car on road without maiming beast or human…
  4. She has never checked out http://www.ratemyprofesor.com

That is all, for I have a paper to write. 2 years down, 3 1/2 to go. Pray for me.

reasons to love a man…

Ok, maybe not just ANY old man, but a certain Lineman comes to this girl’s mind in the heat of mid-morning August, whilst relaxing on patio in sweet sunshine. Surrounded by Bee Balm, Apple mint, and flowering Basil, which attract all manner of bees, hummingbirds, dragonflies, and multi-colored finch-like birds, I am in the throes of deep love. The smiling kind, sweet kind, grin-making kind that fills your heart up to bursting, making even his 3 hour snore-fest last night something to chuckle over, rather than throw his clothing out second story window, preferable while engulfed by flames… the clothes not yours truly.

Moving right along, there are many reasons to love a man. Snoring may not be one of the top 10, but with any luck you are dating someone who is so fantabulous that this minor inconvenience will be ignored, or dealt with utilizing the bitch-slap pillow method while feigning innocence…”Hmm, whaaa?… I was sleeping…”

  1. The fact that no matter how much dirt he tracks across the living room and kitchen floors, he always, and I do mean ALWAYS rinses out the lunch containers and coffee to-go mug you packed for him that morning, saying “It’s the least I can do after such a great lunch!”
  2. The fact that he still, after 16 months, manages to look sheepish for tracking dirt across floors. Without shoes 90% of the time, btw. Men… =)
  3. He tells you every Tuesday morning during his commute that while he does not want to go to work, and he doesn’t like Tuesdays (his Monday), the good thing is that he gets to come back here tonight, so it’s gonna be a good day.
  4. He is incapable of folding a shirt… or any article of clothing, actually. Now this normally would be seen as a fault, but to get to the age of 46 and still be completely baffled at how nothing I fold “looks all crumpled like mine does” is rather endearing. This from a man who can rewire the cable in the bedroom, make a coffee, re-pot the crowded tomato plant, and tune up your car before you manage to get all the groceries put away.
  5. He makes sure you… well, YOU KNOW, at least 2-8 times before he does. Every night. Let me say that again, ladies… EVERY NIGHT. I so completely and totally WIN!!!! =) =)  Just kidding, but seriously, when you find someone who takes your pleasure as seriously as his own, and who laughs aloud when you are capable of only laying there  whimpering and says “That a girl, all relaxed now?” is a keeper. As much as I try to reciprocate and allow him a quick night now and again, he says that while he loves the final course, all the appetizers just make him so damned happy. And yes, I do  completely believe him. That grin is too huge to fake. =)
  6. He eats everything you make for his dinners, without complaint, and also with gratitude. While I am a rather excellent girlfriend, my cooking skills for what he loves to eat are less than stellar. I have learned his preferences and am slowly making some adjustments to my own recipes to suit him, but am human and capable of really messing up a dinner here and there. My biggest embarrassment was when I burned the bejesus out of the bruschetta, and we had to saw the bottom 1/2 inch off the bread before we could eat it. To mess up such a simple recipe had me in fits, but he grinned and told me “But I love burnt toast.” Which happens to be a total lie but the man will eat almost anything I put in front of him. No olives or avocado, though.
  7. When you get up to pee at night and crawl back into bed, he reaches for you, folds his arm around you and says “You’re really back” like you had been on an Arctic expedition for the last year. Better still if he has no memory of the nightly line and is sheepish at the retelling. =)
  8. He shows up. Not just for food or sex, but is present. Really and for true… like when you want to talk after sex at 1 in the morning and he is falling asleep but struggles to reply, if incoherently. Or when he has a shitty day and two guys retired and no replacement is in sight and the rain fried all electric lines for miles… but he tells you that you made his day 98% better. How? By being you.

Obviously there is no way to top that last one, so I will let you all go. Have a spectacular day, peeps. Know my life, this man, and our relationship is by no means perfect or without faults and trials. But for all our rough days, there is light and sunshine and love… and for me, that is enough. Namaste, darlings!

 

but when…

I heard recently, of the home stretch in divorce proceedings, that one usually suffers from separation anxiety, and it “gets hard at the end”…

But what if there is no end?

A child, years of alimony to get me thru school until I can support myself, and the constant hamster-wheel insanity in my head, that he pays my rent, buys my groceries, tampons, condoms even… am I the only one who sees this as ironic?

But when will it actually end? When child is in college, but needs something material which I cannot provide? Surely by that time I will be completely superfluous, and out of the loop? What about weddings, and babies, and deaths? Will I be the one standing to the side, uncomfortable in my oneness opposite their family? Will my presence be required, yet anticipated with a modicum of dread? Or will I become the “oh yeah, I remember her… huh” moment of their collective story?

This isn’t the story I wanted. It was a fnk waste of a life, two lives, or three, if one counts the kiddo. My own story is being written, but still I feel a subplot to them. I await the break, the separation, the end that signifies NOW my story has begun in earnest, and no longer will you find me a subplot in that other work.

I FEEL like a real girl, with a life that is beginning to resemble my own, but still find myself so constrained by finances, circumstances, details over which I have no control. But I also feel like a simple watercolor of myself, a flat version, and I just need more time and resources to puff up and dance off the page, in full technicolor glory, zippy-doo’ing off to a world of my own making.

Does everyone feel like this, sort of stuck while moving? Like riding a tidal wave of molasses, the going is so…slow… but wait, am I gaining momentum, can I feel it a bit beneath my feet?

I cannot tell just yet, where the end is, and where it meets that new beginning. I don’t know if there will be  tiny crack in which to catch my toes, or if it will abruptly fall off, shearing downward in waterfall fashion, to the promised land below. All I know is it is hard today, for no particular reason. The bills are piling up, years upon years of school still loom ahead, and yours truly wants only to take a hot bath and put ink to page, signifying I DO IT now. Not toady, but maybe someday, right?

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