Valentine's Day was unremarkable, except that I unintentionally woke up at 5:38 a.m. (that's not natural for me). Since I was up early, I figured I would get the gym out of the way. So, I did. I got there about 6:00 a.m., and was surprised by a text alert as I walked through the gym door. What sane person was up that early texting me? Ahhhh ... it was my traveling comedian romantic admirer ... wishing me a Happy Valentine's Day. Who doesn't like hearing the words "oh beautiful one" at 6:00 a.m.?
While I don't currently possess a valentine of my very own, I realize that I have some special and thoughtful men in my life. One of these men, whom I consider my best guy friend (although I don't see him as often as I once did), sent me a beautiful Valentine's Day card, and my XXB called to wish me a Happy Valentine's Day. Granted, he was about to pick up his new girlfriend to take her out to the movies, but I'm going to recognize the fact that he thought enough of me to call and wish me a Happy Valentine's Day even though he was about to be on a date with her. I'm not sure what that says, other than either he is a super nice ex-boyfriend or I am a super nice ex-girlfriend. Did I mention it has been like 8 years since we were together as boyfriend and girlfriend? Oh sure, there has been some hanky panky between us over the years following our break up, but none in the last 3 years or more. After the hanky panky ceased, we became flirty friends, and now that he supposedly loves his new girlfriend, we don't flirt nearly as much. I'm not sure I would want MY boyfriend calling an ex-girlfriend on Valentine's day (in fact, I KNOW I wouldn't), but it seems such lingering attachments are not uncommon between a few of my ex-boyfriends and me. Why? Who knows why? I'm just humbled by the thoughtfulness of these three sweet men. They are a reminder that love can be found in the most unexpected places. It can be found in simple actions. It can be found in a text, in a card or in a call. Maybe it's not a commitment, but it's love. Maybe it's not romance, but it's love. Maybe it's not passion, but it's love. And, I rarely fail to appreciate expressions of love ... no matter how they show themselves.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Go ahead, be sweet to me, I like it!
Wanna know what wearing the right dress will do for a woman?
It will bring the Universe to her ... or at least a homeless gentleman who notices her from across the parking lot. Don't be surprised, if she is so fetching in her dress while waiting in the parking lot for a friend to pick her up, that a homeless gentleman finishes whatever he is eating, gets up from his drug store perch, and crosses the lot that separates her workplace from his location. Don't be surprised when he tosses his trash into the dumpster and makes his way over to her. Don't be surprised when he says ... "I just wanted to say that you are looking very pretty today", tips his head and walks away.
It doesn't matter to me whether it's the Universe or a homeless man who goes out of the way to make my day. To me, they are one and the same.
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It will bring the Universe to her ... or at least a homeless gentleman who notices her from across the parking lot. Don't be surprised, if she is so fetching in her dress while waiting in the parking lot for a friend to pick her up, that a homeless gentleman finishes whatever he is eating, gets up from his drug store perch, and crosses the lot that separates her workplace from his location. Don't be surprised when he tosses his trash into the dumpster and makes his way over to her. Don't be surprised when he says ... "I just wanted to say that you are looking very pretty today", tips his head and walks away.
It doesn't matter to me whether it's the Universe or a homeless man who goes out of the way to make my day. To me, they are one and the same.
House Rules: Any and all passersby, stalkers and the like, can post comments under "lurker comments." They will be screened for hexes, spells, foils, curses, foul smells and cooties before posting.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Sad news from the deep south
It is a sad day in the deep south. One of my dearest friends lost her beloved husband Mike last night. A couple of weeks ago Mike was out at his favorite shooting range with his son. Mike was apparently on the tailgate of the truck putting up a target, when he lost his balance and fell backwards. He broke one of his lower legs in two different places. I don't know the rest of that story, until it picks back up in surgery. A doctor operated on Mike's leg, inserting a metal plate and four screws to repair the breaks. Shortly thereafter (maybe the next day or two) Mike was sent home with orders to bear no weight on his broken leg for a total of six weeks. The only other instructions given to Mike and my friend, was that if he ran a high fever, that they should immediately call the doctor, but they should not call if it were a low grade fever. That was the extent of the information. They went home. They had a later appointment and the doctor said all looked to be healing well.
However, after about a week at home, Mike started feeling badly, but he was not running a fever. He was dizzy to the point of passing out when they helped him up to take a shower, and since he was never one to complain, his wife thought he was feeling residual pain from the surgery. A day or so later, he said he felt tired and nauseous, so he didn't want to eat. Even though his family was concerned that he was feeling badly, they never suspected that he was on the brink of death, and they had not been warned of any danger beyond a fever which he never experienced. Yesterday, they all (my friend, Mike, their children, their son-in-law and their precious granddaughter) spent the day together. It wasn't until later in the evening that he started to show symptoms of extreme distress, and when he did, my friend immediately called 911. The EMTs came and took Mike to the hospital and my friend and her children followed. The sad reality is that Mike never returned home. It isn't clear if he died in the hospital or in the ambulance.
I was awakened this morning by a telephone call from another friend who shared this shocking news with me. She and I got dressed and immediately went over to my dear friend's house -- way earlier than I ever would have went if I were going alone. Can I just tell you, that I was almost at a loss for words with my dear friend whom I am never at a loss of words with. I think she is in shock, and I think shock is God's way of getting you through those first few days of the unimaginable. I wanted to freak out for her! Instead, I sat mostly paralyzed by the fear of saying something totally wrong. So, I let her talk, and not talk, and talk, and not talk. We hugged, we cried. We will no doubt hug and cry as the days go by.
In the meantime, I want EVERYONE to share information which I think Mike's physician should have shared with Mike and his family. A broken leg may not immediately kill you, but the potential for a blood clot following such a surgery is real, and you should be aware of the potential symptoms. After discussing this situation with more than one friend of mine, I heard at least three stories of some relative or friend of theirs who died after surgery on a broken leg. This is apparently more common than I would have ever imagined.
Be someone's friend and share word of this very real danger!
However, after about a week at home, Mike started feeling badly, but he was not running a fever. He was dizzy to the point of passing out when they helped him up to take a shower, and since he was never one to complain, his wife thought he was feeling residual pain from the surgery. A day or so later, he said he felt tired and nauseous, so he didn't want to eat. Even though his family was concerned that he was feeling badly, they never suspected that he was on the brink of death, and they had not been warned of any danger beyond a fever which he never experienced. Yesterday, they all (my friend, Mike, their children, their son-in-law and their precious granddaughter) spent the day together. It wasn't until later in the evening that he started to show symptoms of extreme distress, and when he did, my friend immediately called 911. The EMTs came and took Mike to the hospital and my friend and her children followed. The sad reality is that Mike never returned home. It isn't clear if he died in the hospital or in the ambulance.
I was awakened this morning by a telephone call from another friend who shared this shocking news with me. She and I got dressed and immediately went over to my dear friend's house -- way earlier than I ever would have went if I were going alone. Can I just tell you, that I was almost at a loss for words with my dear friend whom I am never at a loss of words with. I think she is in shock, and I think shock is God's way of getting you through those first few days of the unimaginable. I wanted to freak out for her! Instead, I sat mostly paralyzed by the fear of saying something totally wrong. So, I let her talk, and not talk, and talk, and not talk. We hugged, we cried. We will no doubt hug and cry as the days go by.
In the meantime, I want EVERYONE to share information which I think Mike's physician should have shared with Mike and his family. A broken leg may not immediately kill you, but the potential for a blood clot following such a surgery is real, and you should be aware of the potential symptoms. After discussing this situation with more than one friend of mine, I heard at least three stories of some relative or friend of theirs who died after surgery on a broken leg. This is apparently more common than I would have ever imagined.
Be someone's friend and share word of this very real danger!
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Winter days in the deep south
Have you ever tried to squeeze the goodie out of an event, an occurrence, an ordinary lazy day or a long weekend at the beach? You can try to sop every drop of goodness out of those moments as if it were gravy, but no justice will ever be done, not even if you take snapshots and journal about it. Because, my friend, even though all the truly delicious moments of our lives try to schmooze us with sunshine (or the fresh smell of rain), rub up against us like a friendly cat, and caress us with their gentlest of breezes, they have yet to fill our cups of eternal satisfaction. We taste the delicious nectar of leisure and our souls lust for more than our pathetic memories can give. So, here I am to supplement my memory in the hopes of better savoring this here and now experience in my future.
It's January, and I'm lucky enough to be at the beach enjoying good company, good food, good vibrations and sun kissed days! Books have been read, walks have been taken and star gazing is underway. We have marveled at scores of blue tinged jellyfish stranded by the tides, picked through swaths of shells and witnessed a late afternoon wedding as we walked the shore. We have chased the sun and the sun has chased us. My face is currently an UH OH shade of pink, but you won't hear me complaining.
Earlier today whilst wiling away some of these delicious hours in the sun, I finished Tom Perrota's book, The Leftovers, which was listed on more than one list for the best books of 2011. I found Perrota's book to be an easy read, and was surprised to find myself engaged in a non religious way by a book based on a rapturous sounding event, but I won't recommend it to you, because you may be disappointed due to a reader's normal craving for a tidy resolution. As far as I know, there is no tidy resolution to people mysteriously disappearing en masse. I mean really, what the hell would you think if such a thing happened? What would you do different? Anything? Nothing? Would you go about your business as if nothing had happened? How would you view the future if something looking a whole lot like a rapture happened? I would like to stress again that I am not recommending this book, I'm just fascinated by human nature and this book met that interest.
I'm now perusing magazines, and wishing that I were an amazing chef ...or at least an amazing cook. That's the thing about mini vacations, they give you lots of time to daydream, and who doesn't enjoy daydreaming? Or life dreaming, or night dreaming?
It's January, and I'm lucky enough to be at the beach enjoying good company, good food, good vibrations and sun kissed days! Books have been read, walks have been taken and star gazing is underway. We have marveled at scores of blue tinged jellyfish stranded by the tides, picked through swaths of shells and witnessed a late afternoon wedding as we walked the shore. We have chased the sun and the sun has chased us. My face is currently an UH OH shade of pink, but you won't hear me complaining.
Earlier today whilst wiling away some of these delicious hours in the sun, I finished Tom Perrota's book, The Leftovers, which was listed on more than one list for the best books of 2011. I found Perrota's book to be an easy read, and was surprised to find myself engaged in a non religious way by a book based on a rapturous sounding event, but I won't recommend it to you, because you may be disappointed due to a reader's normal craving for a tidy resolution. As far as I know, there is no tidy resolution to people mysteriously disappearing en masse. I mean really, what the hell would you think if such a thing happened? What would you do different? Anything? Nothing? Would you go about your business as if nothing had happened? How would you view the future if something looking a whole lot like a rapture happened? I would like to stress again that I am not recommending this book, I'm just fascinated by human nature and this book met that interest.
I'm now perusing magazines, and wishing that I were an amazing chef ...or at least an amazing cook. That's the thing about mini vacations, they give you lots of time to daydream, and who doesn't enjoy daydreaming? Or life dreaming, or night dreaming?
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Move it before you lose it. Oh, and Happy New Year.
I'm enjoying a 4 day and 6 hour reprieve from work, which started at 10:00 Thursday morning. I haven't done much except for exercise and clean house. Neither exercising nor cleaning house are New Year resolutions for me. I should do both without making a resolution to do them, and I do both, albeit sporadically. I go to the gym to improve my mood, to streamline my thinking ability and to hopefully ensure that I will be moving when, and if, I'm lucky enough to reach the age of an elder elder [that's not an extra elder, it's a specific double elder, because the spirit guides (that's a whole nuther story) once told me that old wasn't until you were 80 or 90, and maybe not even then -- I think they were thinking of Jack Lalanne. Anyways, I like to use the word elder, and anyone a bit older than me could be an elder -- hell, I'm someone's elder. Let's just say, that if I refer to an elder elder, then I'm referring to someone of advanced years.] Sorry, I digress. What I was saying, is that if I happen to look a bit better for having exercised in addition to all the reasons I actually exercise, then that's a cherry on top! I recently read a book about the brain, and how exercise helps our brains to think clearer (sharper, better ... pick a great adjective) and mentally feel better (it chases a mild case of blues away). I already knew that from experience, but it reinforced my desire to be more consistent with exercise. For better or worse, my mind is always with me, and it keeps me company when I have no one else to keep me company, and I don't want to spend all my free time with a flake, even if I'm the flake. Hey, I said ALL my free time, I didn't say I was totally down on flakes. Flakes need love and attention too.
As for cleaning house, I am not fond of that activity (ahem ... cough ... mammoth understatement). However, I am fond of its benefits, so I'm motivated to wage war on my cleaning aversion without the assistance of a resolution.
I really didn't know where I was going when I started to write this post, and I still don't. I was just checking in to wish you all a Happy New Year, and I got to thinking about all the resolutions that people are probably going to make, and how many I could make, but won't. I have things I want to improve about myself, but I think about those things all the time anyways, and I've yet to become that perfect person I keep imagining I can be. What I do know, is that if 2012 has something sweet and juicy to offer, I will meet it halfway ... hell, I might even run after it. If nothing else, I will get some exercise.
As for cleaning house, I am not fond of that activity (ahem ... cough ... mammoth understatement). However, I am fond of its benefits, so I'm motivated to wage war on my cleaning aversion without the assistance of a resolution.
I really didn't know where I was going when I started to write this post, and I still don't. I was just checking in to wish you all a Happy New Year, and I got to thinking about all the resolutions that people are probably going to make, and how many I could make, but won't. I have things I want to improve about myself, but I think about those things all the time anyways, and I've yet to become that perfect person I keep imagining I can be. What I do know, is that if 2012 has something sweet and juicy to offer, I will meet it halfway ... hell, I might even run after it. If nothing else, I will get some exercise.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Don't give me reason to curse and I won't.
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Have you ever watched "Mad Men?" I have only caught the occasional episode here and there, and I like it, but it's rare that an episode doesn't trip over my present day sensibilities.
The line "Why don't you make yourself useful and get me a glass of water" which I just heard on this show, stands near enough to the question "Do you just like to talk to hear yourself talk?" which was recently directed at me by one of the lawyers who is a partner in the firm in which I have worked for a long time. I said nothing to this blatant arrogance, but I was thinking to myself ... " No, you rude mother fucker, it's called making polite conversation while we are on our way to a funeral which I now wish was yours." (Sorry, just keeping it real people.)
One of the things I dislike about this thing called life, is the dire need for a job. Here's my bit of advice to myself and any of you who work with even one arrogant prick. Try to pick a field of work that isn't flush with arrogance.
P.S. I wish you a Merry Christmas, and peace on earth as long as you aren't scum on earth.
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Have you ever watched "Mad Men?" I have only caught the occasional episode here and there, and I like it, but it's rare that an episode doesn't trip over my present day sensibilities.
The line "Why don't you make yourself useful and get me a glass of water" which I just heard on this show, stands near enough to the question "Do you just like to talk to hear yourself talk?" which was recently directed at me by one of the lawyers who is a partner in the firm in which I have worked for a long time. I said nothing to this blatant arrogance, but I was thinking to myself ... " No, you rude mother fucker, it's called making polite conversation while we are on our way to a funeral which I now wish was yours." (Sorry, just keeping it real people.)
One of the things I dislike about this thing called life, is the dire need for a job. Here's my bit of advice to myself and any of you who work with even one arrogant prick. Try to pick a field of work that isn't flush with arrogance.
P.S. I wish you a Merry Christmas, and peace on earth as long as you aren't scum on earth.
House Rules: Any and all passersby, stalkers and the like, can post comments under "lurker comments." They will be screened for hexes, spells, foils, curses, foul smells and cooties before posting.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
1:20, 2:20, 3:20, 4:20 ... Sleepless in the deep south
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I've been awake since 1:20 a.m.. It's now 4:20 something, going on 5 a.m., and there is no herd of sheep in sight for me to count. So, I tossed, I turned. I watched some TV. I loaded the dishwasher. I contemplated the universe. I went about the house putting things back into their proper place. I contemplated getting a second job, just for the pure fun of being able to save even more money. Then I wondered if I could live without TV (it's lackluster at best). I also thought about giving up my Verizon account in favor of a Tracfone. I don't talk on the phone much, and I think I could save in the neighborhood of $500.00 a year, just by making that switch. I'm going to put that on my research list for tomorrow. So far, that's about all I've done in the span of 4 hours.
If the gym was open, I would go, but it doesn't open until around 10:00 a.m. on Sunday mornings. I could read, and maybe I will. I've been reading a book by Laura Hillenbrand who is the author of "Seabiscuit." The Hillenbrand book that I'm reading is entitled "Unbroken -- A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption." I understand it's based on a true story of it's lead character, Louis Zamperini. I'm not a fan of war, or reading about war, but this book was recommended and loaned to me by an 80 something year old former marine with whom I work, and given a second recommendation by my doctor. I've been plugging away at it mostly while walking on the treadmill at the gym. If you can call war and all that can happen during a war an adventure, it's definitely filled with adventure, but I wouldn't call one life threatening situation after another an adventure. I would call that scary as hell, and sometimes I have to hide my eyes so as not to feel the fear I know I would have felt if I had been in the combat boots of Louie Zamperini and his comrades. Don't get me wrong, I really like this book, and in honor of Louie Zamperini and all those who came before him, and went after him, I would definitely recommend it to you. Let Louie take you to places where you will hopefully never have to go.
P.S. If you got the idea from my last post that my XXB and I "get it on" occasionally, think again.
House Rules: Any and all passersby, stalkers and the like, can post comments under "lurker comments." They will be screened for hexes, spells, foils, curses, foul smells and cooties before posting.
I've been awake since 1:20 a.m.. It's now 4:20 something, going on 5 a.m., and there is no herd of sheep in sight for me to count. So, I tossed, I turned. I watched some TV. I loaded the dishwasher. I contemplated the universe. I went about the house putting things back into their proper place. I contemplated getting a second job, just for the pure fun of being able to save even more money. Then I wondered if I could live without TV (it's lackluster at best). I also thought about giving up my Verizon account in favor of a Tracfone. I don't talk on the phone much, and I think I could save in the neighborhood of $500.00 a year, just by making that switch. I'm going to put that on my research list for tomorrow. So far, that's about all I've done in the span of 4 hours.
If the gym was open, I would go, but it doesn't open until around 10:00 a.m. on Sunday mornings. I could read, and maybe I will. I've been reading a book by Laura Hillenbrand who is the author of "Seabiscuit." The Hillenbrand book that I'm reading is entitled "Unbroken -- A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption." I understand it's based on a true story of it's lead character, Louis Zamperini. I'm not a fan of war, or reading about war, but this book was recommended and loaned to me by an 80 something year old former marine with whom I work, and given a second recommendation by my doctor. I've been plugging away at it mostly while walking on the treadmill at the gym. If you can call war and all that can happen during a war an adventure, it's definitely filled with adventure, but I wouldn't call one life threatening situation after another an adventure. I would call that scary as hell, and sometimes I have to hide my eyes so as not to feel the fear I know I would have felt if I had been in the combat boots of Louie Zamperini and his comrades. Don't get me wrong, I really like this book, and in honor of Louie Zamperini and all those who came before him, and went after him, I would definitely recommend it to you. Let Louie take you to places where you will hopefully never have to go.
P.S. If you got the idea from my last post that my XXB and I "get it on" occasionally, think again.
House Rules: Any and all passersby, stalkers and the like, can post comments under "lurker comments." They will be screened for hexes, spells, foils, curses, foul smells and cooties before posting.
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