Taxi Cab (Part I)

She was new to town. Her journey had taken her several places so she had courage on one shoulder and several painful bags on the other. She was learning how to balance the two to make her travels lighter. It was hard when none of the streets were familiar and the roads behind her were still calling. She found herself at a busy intersection one evening, her mind was racing with all that she saw since she awoke...the sun was about to set for the day and the twilight cast a mesmerizing light.

A taxi cab pulled up almost out of nowhere. She had been relying on her own two feet to move her, but the cab was inviting.

"Where to?", the cab driver asked.

"I don't know", she replied.

"Something tells me you're new to this journey," he said. "I've been you, and I can tell you it gets easier. I can also tell you're ready to take it"

He drove around in no particular direction and told her his story. She relaxed instantly and listened, fascinated by the stories he told and saddened by some of the experiences that led him to where he was in life.

"I think I'm ready to get off here," she said with a strength in her voice that surprised her.

He pulled over to let her out. She noticed a kindness in his eyes as they shook hands and parted ways.

When he was out of sight she realized that the contents of one of her bags fell out and into the cab.

She looked in the empty bag and thought, "That's okay,I don't think I'll be needing that anymore."

When You Write

Hello, my trusty blog...how I've missed you this week!

Work was busy, oh sure, but, truth is, I needed a little break. I've learned that's what I need to do when I'm too enmeshed. I was relying on you too much. Now it's time for me to give some of that back, time for me to show how much I cherish you...

With no hopes of anything in return, this I say to you....

I thank you for being my link to the rest of the world at a time when I needed you...you kept me connected.

I thank you for giving me a safe place to say what's on my mind ...you helped me release the joy and (too often times) sadness when it overflows from my heart.

I thank you for accepting me...your graciousness helped build my character and open my mind.

I thank you for standing beside me...you let me stumble last year, and stood by patiently as I redefined your purpose.

I thank you for being my reflection.




What do you see in yourself when you write?

Smelly, Stuffed Dog

I've started a blog for Peanut. Her first assignment was to answer some interview questions by Elisa's daughters, The Hippie and The Scribe. I must admit, it's a bit late and she wasn't her usual talkative self, but Barkley sure poured on the potty humor...I had to edit some of it out. Enough's enough you smelly, stuffed dog!

You can check out Peanut and Barkley's Blog here:

http://peanutandbarkley.blogspot.com/

Shrinkage

I can't believe I forgot to post this.

Peanut and I hit the dollar store last week. She had some allowance and it was burning a hole in her pocket. This is what she purchased. She thought it was funny when I took a picture and said I was going to send it to Whiskey Girl.

It has been in a pot full of water growing for the past few days. It's quite huge at the moment and a little bit phallic...which is funny, because normally you'd have "shrinkage" in water.

His Backbone - Part IV

She dialed her dad's number, "Hey there, Daddy-O".

Her dad replied with his usual "Hiya, Stevie" (the "Stevie" always sounds more like "Shtee-bee" when he says it...and he had been calling her that since she was little).

"Um, dad, I'm going to try and not go all emotional on you, but I wanted to talk to you about something. I was driving in my car the other day and something triggered a memory of my Bat Mitzvah...which made me think of you...sitting at the back of the synagogue. It makes me sad to think that we lost a year with each other. If I could do over that year, I would.

Now her dad is not very good at serious emotion. In fact, the only person he's really capable of doing that with is her step mom. She wasn't expecting him to say anything profoundly emotional. The artist in him makes him warm and engaging...but serious conversations are usually averted whenever possible.

"You were mad and I understood why. We were both working out a lot of things and you were so young. It was too much for you."

"Thank you, dad, and I'm not angry about losing that year with you...I'm just sad it happened, sad we can't get it back"

Without hesitation her dad said, "You may have felt like you lost me, but there was not a moment where you felt lost to me. You were always on my mind and I just hoped each day that we'd work it out. And we did. There's no year to make up for because we never really lost each other."

All these years she had stifled any thoughts about what her dad must have felt during that time and more importantly what he felt about her! That year of "loss and abandonment" that she worked so hard to forget suddenly became a gift for their future...built on the strength of his backbone.

A Spectacular Love Story

I almost forgot to post this!

If my Grandma Ann was still living, today would have been her 70th Wedding Anniversary with my Papa Sam (still living- he's 96!). They were just shy of their 59th wedding anniversary when she passed away in 2010.

I've mentioned before that August 10th is my favorite day of the year. If I ever re-marry it'll be on this date!

Beautiful marriage....lots of bumps, they drove each other crazy (in a loving way), but in the end it was a spectacular love story.

Connections I've Made

I have gone from 4 Followers to 40 Followers in 4 months.

Four Is Enough, but 40 is even better. I love the connections I've made!

Her Backbone (Part III)

She had been asked several times over the course of her adult years what the one thing in life was that she had regrets over. It's amazing how she had blocked that "fatherless" year out of her mind. Something triggered it the other day, and she finally felt some grown-up sadness and regret. She'd take back that year and do it differently if she could.

She wishes she could tell you that the reunion with her father was a profound moment. It wasn't. She didn't wake up one morning and miss her father. It wasn't like that at all. He happened to call and she picked up the phone.

"I'd like it if you'd come with us to the Youth Fair tomorrow," he said. And she agreed...without hesitation. She wanted to go to the Fair...and quite frankly, her mom couldn't afford it. That's what she told herself. It felt that cold. She wouldn't feel the damage until later in life.

Looking back she can barely remember that reunion with the exception that it was awkward. She didn't know her father anymore, and he didn't know her. Slowly things came back together and they just fell back into place, never speaking of that lost year.

Sure they had their moments, and there were times when the anger and hurt of living her parents' divorce would take over, but cutting her father out of her life was no longer an option.

It didn't take courage to go back to seeing her father, the real strength and courage would come much later in life...it was that moment she was in her car last week and realized that she did have one regret. One very big one, and she wanted to tell her father how very sad she was that they lost that year.

She sat in the sadness a little bit, letting herself feel that loss without it overcoming her. Writing helped.

She dialed his number, one of the few numbers she knows by heart.

"Hey, there, Daddy-O,......" she said as she straightened her backbone.

It's Whiskey Girls' Birthday - Bravo Maxwell!

I was going to do a birthday post for Whiskey Girl this morning, but I think Maxwell said it best. So click here for the awesome post on WG's site:

Whiskey Girl's Birthday Wishes

Happy Birthday Whiskey Girl...and

Bravo Maxwell

Birthday Calendar

Whiskey Girl's birthday is tomorrow.

I'm the person in my family who reminds everyone about other family members' birthdays. I've been that person for as long as I can remember.

I'd be happy to carry that tradition over to my Bloggerhood, so in the Comments section send me your birth date.

Mine is November 26th.

Her Backbone (Part II)

"Your father's here, won't you please let Papa take a picture of the two of you?"

Her Grandma Ann stood in front of her with a concerned look on her face. She could see the pain this was causing her, but she couldn't get past her own pain.

It was her Bat Mitzvah. It had been several months since she had spoken with her dad. She told her mom not to invite him. He came anyway and sat in the back of the synagogue. He was wearing slacks, a leather jacket, and boots...that image stays with her for some reason.

She stood in her steel blue dress and pretty, black Pappagallo sandals, choked back the tears and said, "I can't do that, Grandma." The look of desperation in her Grandma's eyes was painful. Her dad quietly left and her grandparents never brought it up again. She wasn't mad at them, they just wanted their grandchild to have her father back, they wanted to make things right again.

Her Bat Mitzvah party was at their house...her mom rented a jukebox and bought two huge tubs of ice cream (the size of the ones they have at the ice cream parlor). Peppermint, with the bits of candy. It wasn't the big party that her sister had a couple of years earlier, but it was fun. Though the house had it's problems, it did have the most amazing screened in patio in their backyard. It was huge. Many a stray kitty and even a wounded duckling would live on that patio. There was a grill that she put together with her mom, piece by piece. For some reason she'd always remember the man at the store wanting to find someone to come over and put it together for her. Her mom said no. The man eventually gave up, but not before loading her up with free grilling utensils. Her Grandparents were, of course, at the party. Their relationship with their daughter-in-law did not change after the divorce. They were always so good and loving to her mother, and the feeling was mutual. This was perhaps the most meaningful relationship ever modeled to her.
 

Years later, when she was not quite 32, she sat at her Grandmother's bedside in the hospital. It was their last visit before she passed away. Almost twenty years had gone by and, out of the blue, her Grandma wanted to apologize for asking her to take that picture with her father. She cried as she held her hands and told her Grandma Ann no apology was necessary, she knew she was doing what she thought was best.

She had no idea how deeply that moment affected her Grandma...it saddened her to think that weighed so heavily on her backbone. 

Her Backbone (Part I)

It was Sunday morning. This morning was going to be different. She had enough.

Her heart beat heavily as she marched to the station wagon in her driveway. A man rolled down the window, it was her dad.

"You don't get to tell me I can't go away for the weekend with my friend because Sunday's are your day. It's not fair! And I don't want to see you today."

Caught up in her anger she ran back into the house...her house. The home her father never lived in....it wasn't big like the last house. The linoleum in the kitchen was so filthy they had to get on their hands and knees and scrub it clean. Her wicker bedroom furniture barely fit into the room that was half the size of her last room...but her mom let her get the yellow blinds (even though they looked funny from the outside of the house looking in).

The first couple of weeks he tried to get her to come along. He'd sit and wait a few minutes in the car before driving away. He never came to the door of her home. He couldn't. Her mom wouldn't have it, she was too wounded by the divorce. Each week she'd tell herself, "Better to stay home, mom might need me."

A month of Sunday's went by and she still refused to spend them with her father. Her older sister and younger brother still went with him. After a while, nobody talked about it. She was 12. She really didn't know what she wanted, she just knew everything hurt...so Sunday after Sunday she'd watch as her dad drove her brother and sister away for the day. They'd come home later that night, just in time to get ready for bed and school the next day.

Some might say she was lucky to have her mom to herself for one day each week, but she really didn't...have her, that is. Her mom was in survival mode back then and would often re-hash and re-live the betrayal. That was all her mom thought she had.

At 12 it was like she, herself, was going through a divorce...so on Sundays she'd sit there with the adults and hear about adult things that she couldn't understand. Her mom was so hurt she couldn't muster a word of encouragement to her about repairing her relationship with her dad. After all, her actions were, in a twisted way, an affirmation that her mom had been wronged in her marriage, she needed her to defy her father ...it was as if her mom drew strength from her backbone.

Would It Be Wrong Wednesdays...Early Edition

Would it be wrong
If I sent The P.A.N. an email and reminded him that it's not only time to pay June, July and August's child support, but it's also time TO GROW A PAIR?

Would it be wrong
If I tell the 59-year old man who keeps emailing me on Match to point his limp noodle in someone else's direction and leave me alone? Dude! You're OLD!!!!!...emailing me with compliments three times in two days isn't going to change that.


Would it be wrong
If I accidentally taught Peanut the words "Ass crack" while playing a mean game of UNO the other night? Tushy Buns Crack just didn't sound right in this instance...and it threw her off her game allowing me to win!


Would it be wrong
If I admitted that I'm addicted to blogging and I started writing this Tuesday afternoon when I was supposed to be working hard?

UPDATE 8:26AM: The comments I have received for this post have actually been better than my post...which is awesome. Thank you Maxwell and Julianna! (PS- sorry, I don't have time to insert their links, and well, frankly...Maxwell is having his "link" repaired this week...check their blogs out via the right hand column. They're fun to stalk, really....Is that wrong?)

Cheers, My Friend

I've said it before, this girl is awesome. I'm so lucky to have her in all circles of life (blogger and everyday...I know! Aren't you jealous).

So, crazy busy again today...thought I'd highlight a favorite blog of mine instead of writing anything meaningful myself. Her Nonna Nonsense is sure to make you laugh and if you don't, then you're either a guy or seriously have something wrong with you.

Click here for Snippets For Sanity

Cheers, my friend!

My Love Affair

I've loved them for as long as I can remember.

Don't Stop Believin

Lingered Quietly

When I posted yesterday I forgot to mention an extraordinary thing that happened Wednesday night (besides not getting pooped on, barfed on, snotted on, scratched or bit).

I was sitting on my couch watching SYTYCD and had the strangest sensation that I was being held. The strong kind of hold like when you feel a man's hands on your face just before he leans in and takes for a kiss....or when you get one of those standing bear hugs (naked, of course). There was a strength to it that was comforting...and then the feeling just lingered,  quietly giving me peace.

Last Night

Last night:

I spent $100 at the vet's office for Bumper kitty's runny poop problem

Last night:

I had to wash the towels in the cat carrier because said Bumper kitty couldn't hold it for the three minute ride from the vet's office back to our house

Last night:

I had to wipe Bumper kitty's paws off...and then I had to change my clothes

Last night:

I canceled a dinner with my Pizza Guy Friend to clean the carpets and other surfaces soiled by, you guessed it, Bumper kitty

Last night:

Squash decided it would be fun to bite my arm...just because

Last night:

Percy snotted on my leg when he sneezed...AND barfed on my freshly laundered blanket.

Last night:

I awoke to a strange humming noise. Bumper kitty ventured downstairs and was sitting in front of my bed guarding me (Normally Squash's job). He was belly growling at Percy and Squash to keep them out of the room

Last night:

Bumper kitty's claws dug into my wrist while I was carrying him upstairs. This was actually not on purpose, he was trying to wriggle out of my arms to pick on a cat twice three times his size.

Last night:

I cried sobbed my first real tears out of ANGER over Russell leaving me (Read 0 for 2) (to be with his son in California) last year, and wrote an "I hate you for leaving me" letter in my mind.

Last night:

I cried because I'm tired of crying over this shit....the being alone shit, not the cat shit...

Last night:

Bumper kitty purred in my lap, even after I gave him his antibiotic.

Last night:

Percy flopped down next to me when I first got into bed and showed me his belly...and I totally forgot about my anxieties over a repeat of earlier snotting.

Last night:

Squash...well, Squash was pretty much a booger all night, but he did kill a bug.

Last night:

I resolved to being the best looking "Cat Lady" in Texas.

Like a Jerk

I picked The Peanut up yesterday from her dad's house. I was taking her to her ice skating lesson. First let me get my little dig in about how it crazes me that The P.A.N. will not bring Peanut to ice skating lessons, or any other lesson that I've signed her up for. The ice skating rink is around the corner from my office. He lives 15-20 minutes away...so I spent close to 40 minutes round trip just to pick her up. I'm getting very tired of the North Dallas Tollway. Let's just say it's taking it's "toll" on me (couldn't resist that silly pun). I'm even more tired of The P.A.N.

When I arrived she was just getting back from day camp. She was messy faced and messy haired. She wanted to run to our house first but I told her we didn't have time. "But mom, I need to brush my hair"

"Run back inside daddy's and get your brush"

"C'mon mom, you know I hate that brush. If I don't brush my hair I'm going to look like a complete jerk!"

Why she chose the word jerk is beyond me. After I stopped cracking up we ran to the Walgreen's to get one of her favorite hair brushes. When skating and dinner were over I took her back to her dad's house and told her she could keep the brush there.

She needs a good brush at his house, and after all, I didn't want to look like a jerk.

That's The P.A.N.'s job.

All of Me

I've had emotional intimacy. I wasn't searching for it at the time. At the time, the only thing I was searching for was myself. You see, I lost myself in my marriage. Gone was my sense of humor, my self worth, my courage. Wasted was my warmth and kindness... my smile rarely showing itself. I was in there all along, but I was too afraid to embrace myself...all of me, even my faults.

One day a kind soul looked deep inside my heart and helped me realize I was enough. He patiently and effortlessly supported me, we supported each other...and as the love grew, so did we.  I no longer feared being vulnerable, it was safe to be me...we provide that safe place for each other. It was powerful, emotional, real, and most of all connected.  

When we said good-bye I grieved the loss. The old, damaged me screamed, "It's all your fault!"...and, even though I knew it wasn't,  I carried that pain. Slowly I learned that it was okay to keep those memories, I didn't have to deny they happened in order to let go...perhaps most of all I've learned to how treasure them, but still look forward.

We get to choose who we love or don't love. I vow to choose wisely, for once you've shared the gift of intimacy anything less just won't do.

I once felt less than,

Then I was half of a "we", 

Now I'm all of me.

Snooze Button

I've been pretty busy the last couple of days, so I haven't had much time to write...and I also have a bit of writer's block over a topic that weighs on my mind (think "World Peace" kind of topic).

So if this blog had one, I'd hit the snooze button.