You're cheeky today. What do you mean today? I'm cheeky every day.

Someone recently asked me, "How do you get involved in these sort of situations?"  Hell if I know, I was just sitting in my house minding my own business when someone pimped me out on Facebook.  So now, I've been chatting for over a month with a citizen of the United Kingdom, and come April, he will be boarding a plane and crossing the Atlantic.  I have scheduled vacation a month earlier than I normally would and I've been trying to think of fun things to do and interesting places to take him.  Being a creature of annoying habit, I've found this turn of romantic events both engaging and slightly uncomfortable.  April is not my preferred month to go on holiday.  Late May, early June and anytime in October are my favorite times of year to vacate work, but I'm going to make an exception for this guy, at least once.  If, after spending a week with him, I find that we lack chemistry and/or compatibility, I will chalk the experience up to taking a chance, and for that I get a gold star.  If we do have chemistry and don't wish to kill one another within days, we could be facing something more serious.  He's so much more romantic than I am, and that will require more effort on my part if things become serious.  If we get along like peas and carrots, I will have to think of sweet things to do for him, or naughty things to do to him.  God help me, because my previous boyfriend told me that I was the least romantic girl he had ever met.  I thought being less romantic was a positive trait to have as a woman, but apparently that is not so when dealing with a man who values romance.  Personally, I value people who don't add to my daily annoyances. 

Perhaps to offset possible rejection upon our first physical meeting, I've been steadily relaying to him all of my unattractive features and traits.  He keeps telling me that it makes him sad to hear me talk negatively about myself.  I tell him I'm not being negative, I'm being realistic.  In the event I have to reject him, I would rather do that before his plane ever lands, so I've thrown all my romantic deal breakers right out front -- I don't date smokers, I cannot live with pets, and I'm never EVER leaving the South.  Those are my big three, the rest are negotiable.  So far, I've not been able to shake him.

Only a week in April will tell us what we both need to know.

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Are you there God? It's me, not Margaret.

I feel trapped in the life that I thought I wanted when I was younger.  Now that I'm half way to somewhere, I keep looking around and thinking that I should have created a  different future for myself.  Sometimes, I wish that I had wanted to marry or to have children, but NO, I never had the good sense to want either of those life changing experiences.  Now that I actually have all the wants I thought I wanted, all the unknown wants are haunting my subconscious.  They are so deep in my subconscious, that I have no idea what they are.  All I know, is that they are impatiently waiting (tap, tap, tap) for me to discover them.  They really ought to learn the two step or the shag, because they are wearing out that tap dance on my soul.

I know you can't help, but don't you think I could get a little help from the Lord despite my sins?



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Love is in the air ... oh wait ... maybe it's lust.

Is it possible to love someone for billions of years past eternity?  I'm just curious, because there is one ex-boyfriend of mine who wanted to keep me, and I wanted to keep him, but we just couldn't because it was too hard.  I didn't like him well enough to keep him as my own, but my soul loved him like no other, and that love has yet to purge itself.  I still think of him.  I still dream of him.  I am constantly reminded of him.  I keep his heart stopping picture on my nightstand, and I remember every intimate moment we shared, and there were many to remember.  The feelings that I feel for him, are the closest thing to primal I have ever felt.   Maybe men feel that feeling all day, every day.  For me, Pookie was the only person that I ever felt that way about.  He was the only man in my life that couldn't sit near enough to me for my liking.  I wanted him physically closer than close.  He was the only man that I ever felt as if I wanted to be literally one with on a physical level.  I wanted to feel what it felt like to be him.  I wanted to feel his skin as my own.  It was a foreign and very weird yet very lovely feeling. A feeling that I hope to one day feel again.


Pookie is a forever love, one for the ages, but lust is afoot in my everyday reality, and I dress for it every day.  Temptation is a naughty seducer, and I yield to it, as if there are no consequences to pay.  Oh there are consequences alright, but my primal instinct heeds them not.  I'm hoping my pre-frontal cortex will put its foot down.  Sorta.  You men don't know how good you have it, with all that instinctual lusting and first right of choosing which was bestowed on you by nature.  Relish it, like the gift that it is.
 


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Come all sinners, come all saints ... it's a waiting game.

It's New Year's Eve.  I'm home alone.  Nothing unusual there.  Even when I'm dating someone, he usually has a child who trumps the evening with me.   What about my friends?  They are either married, live too far away, are past caring to celebrate a New Year, or are oblivious to me during this last leg of every year.  No biggie.  I'm used to it.  Seems to me that I set my life up to spend most of it alone.  Even in a crowd of family, I will take lonesome refuge in a book.  I tried to take refuge in a book while waiting with my mother to get the results of her lung scan earlier today, but my mother was too stressed and agitated for me to mentally leave her to talk to those cheating and supposedly cheated upon people who are foolish enough to appear on the Maury Povich show which was blaring on the TV in the secondary and most uncomfortable waiting room.  After too long, they moved us to a  "consultation" room which didn't contain a TV, a fact which I was personally relieved by, but it did contain a very loud ticking clock whose sound was intensified by the lack of a blaring TV.  My mother watched that clock with growing annoyance and as each tock ticked, she marched steady towards the cliff of impatience.  We both wrapped our coats a little closer to our bodies, because the place was bordering on an indoor winter non wonderland.  The bastards were trying to freeze us to death while we waited to see if something else was trying to kill my mother.  I tried to break the tense mood when she pondered audibly on why it should take the physician's assistant so long to see us.  I suggested that perhaps the woman had simply "frozen to death in the other room," which thankfully made my mother laugh.  Morbid yes, but it served the purpose.  During our two hour wait, my mother also needed to use the restroom, but was afraid to leave the third room we had been relegated to wait in, just in case the frozen to death woman was resurrected and decided to grace us with her presence.  My mother said that if the PA didn't come soon, that she would need to go to the restroom, and that I would be in charge of keeping the PA there until my mother returned.  I was thinking of all the ways I could make that woman stay in the room if she ever showed up, when she miraculously showed up bearing news ... GOOD NEWS that I would not have to sit on her, AND EVEN BETTER NEWS FOR MY MOTHER.  Her lungs are clear of any suspicious shadows!  My mother broke down in tears of relief.  She said they were happy tears, but I say they were tears of pent up stress and worry.  My mother is now cleared to have her ileostomy reversed.  And that is good news on top of GOOD NEWS.  Now, we are hopefully on the last leg of this medical journey, and I'm praying that all goes well. I guess I should stick my head back into a book, most specifically The Bible.  I have a lot of appreciation to express and a surgery's worth of grace and healing to pray for.

I wish good health and lots of patience for all of you fellow humans.  Happy New Year and lots of love.    


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Postmortem (pun intended)

I do believe I have experienced my last ever family holiday get together.   The holidays are never easy for us, but yesterday went crashing into the flames of purgatory within about 30 minutes of arrival.  My mother was already stressed after being with my nephew (her grandson) for three days.  The fact that she adores this kid is part of the problem.  My sister, who has a grown and very willful child with Downs Syndrome, was also stressed.  Their worlds collided and I leaned towards my sister's side of that tear inducing mini event and joined her in the back room.  My sister said she probably wouldn't be there for Christmas.  My mother said that she doesn't feel like we enjoy being together, and that she probably wouldn't have Christmas.  It's likely the end of all of our holiday "celebrations," and I'm not sure how I feel about that. We are definitely different from one another and usually share our daily lives with other people, but is giving up on holiday gathering the answer?  Maybe the death of holiday gathering, as the always put together Martha Stewart is fond of saying, "is a good thing," a very good thing.   Maybe, just maybe, the death of holiday gathering is the one thing we can be thankful for.

I truly hope y'all had a happier holiday than we experienced.  I also hope you have a bucket of things to be thankful and happy about.


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Who said anything about a vacation?

Good grief ... why does a mini vacation make you want a mini vacation?  I took enough for 3 weeks of vacation when in actuality it was more like 4 days of vacating.  Who am I fooling taking all that make up, jewelry, 8 shirts, a pair of jeans, a pair of Capri pants, a pair of light weight pants, 5 pairs of shorts, PJs, 2 pair of flip flops, 1 pair of sneakers, dress boots, and a pair of casual flat shoes that aren't flip flops, not to mention the 4 bags of groceries, the computer, the IPODS, all their chargers, sheets, bath towels, dish towels, books, magazines, an endless supply of Splenda diet coke, a pot and lid, a non stick skillet, two baking dishes, spatulas, and household paper products?  

I didn't vacate my home, I took it with me.  And I didn't put on the first dab of make up or wear much out of that laundry list of clothing.  I did cook, but I came back with nearly as much as I took.  Maybe I missed my girl scout calling, cuz I definitely like to be prepared ... in case of what, I don't know, but I think I may be easing over to self annoying.

Hot tamale

Uh oh ... I have the hots for someone my parents age, and he's married.  Got a fire extinguisher?   This man flirts with me every day and I flirt back.  And, I like it.  I now understand the power Casanova had over women. 

No worries though, I have a moral or two left, even though there weren't many who offered me the same courtesy of keeping their paws off of my men.