Female clicks

These are interesting links relating to women.

Want to live to be 100? Be the first born child of a young mother. Her eggs must be better.

You are what your grandmother ate. The mechanism for genes being expressed comes with programmed instructions, with gene expression being altered by diet.

Want to be mind-bendingly intrigued? Check out some photoshopped masterpieces newly redesigned for jest advertising. My favorite is half way down: Frida with the broken spinal column and dozens of nails poking in her skin photoshopped as an advertisement for Advil.

Suffice

I pulled out the watercolors and did an angel painting. Instead of looking sad like my mother's interpretation of the sketch, this one looks like she has a sense of humor, I hope. I think her expression is pretty motherly, as in chiding while laughing at a child.

I have a kinda elegant off white mat that suits it. This is 8x6 and the frame w/mat will be 12x8.

I would like to work a little more on the wings, but I don't know what. Suggestions welcomed on that and all else. Although it doesn't show up here, I did use irridescent medium on the halo and wings.

I have never done a watercolor portrait before. Portraits are so hard to do, something I was not able to convince my mother of on the phone because she enthusiastically, yet wrongly, thinks I can do anything. Overall, this is only my fourth portrait ever. It resembles my mother a little, not much. The hair is smaller per her request, so perhaps she'll be happy.

Fat chance.

Tough.


Click to enlarge. It makes a difference.

For my mother, sorta

I am busy to the gills with my mental turmoil over my father's family and wondering what I'll do about Luke, plus my volunteer job has come to another head. My project is going beautifully, but it is full of details involving lots of people and I'll have to really perform soon.

In the mean time, my mother called this morning and asked for a kind of performance as well. Her new "friend" collects angels and she wanted a rendering of herself as an angel so she could give him one, as he has called her an angel.

So, here's my sketch. I am doing people better. I am doing darks and lights better. I won't be able to do this in pastel, because it'll be zippy shipped and framed, too casual a treatment for picky soft pastels. I might do it in watercolor with ink, maybe just one or the other.

Anyway, if I post it, you will hold my feet to the fire to complete it this month, right? She first called it a favor, then called it a commission. What do you want to bet that she likes my rendering of her and she wants one for herself? It kind of looks like her, well, more than it doesn't look like her. She'll like the youthfulness.

ETA: Of course she hates it. The hair is too big and she thinks it looks sad. I said it looks flowy, elegant, pensive, and humble - none of the things she is, but I call it artistic license. I asked about the composition, because facial and hair details will change whether I want them to or not (I'm not that good to be able to duplicate) and she couldn't say what she wanted. She'd given me free reign. Ug. Then she finally said it's growing on her. If I reduce the hair. Fine. I told her that this is what she gets, having an atheist drawing an angel.

I need more stress. A bit ago, I sent a defining email to Luke, not breaking up, but definitely slowing down.

Rains ... pours

My grandfather is dying of lung cancer. He found out over the weekend when my grandmother took him to the ER. He was not a smoker, however when one inches toward 90, something has to do you in, I guess.

 

I was very lucky to meet/know several of my great grandmothers, one even living until after I'd graduated from college. I lost my first grandfather when I was over 30. Very lucky, I've had three grandparents since then, although I've not been particularly close to any of them.

 

Of all my grandparents, this grandfather is one I like the best as a person. He is a sweet, gentle, kind person who has been hen pecked to oblivion by his wife. Grandparent-wise, I was actually closest to exMIL's father; we shared a special relationship and I balled when he died shortly before my own.

 

They're supposed to call the oncologist about my grandfather today, but not much is expected. At least he's not in pain right now; he's complained of a general malaise for some time and that's why she finally took him to the ER. He just plain didn't feel well and had no appetite.

 

I learned today that my grandmother had a triple bypass in October and my newly retired father has been spending weekdays at their home, his sister coming on weekends. Before yesterday, I had not spoken to my father in two years or my own sister in one. They frustrate me too much and I feel better without their influence, but I was thrown back into the fire yesterday.

 

My grandparents have been in decline for some time and my father is having my grandmother evaluated for A1zheimer's this week. It would be quite strange to me that both of my grandfathers die of lung cancer and both of my grandmothers linger because of A1zheimer's.

 

I hate this stuff, especially on the heels of my mother's dog dying because my mother went out of town to visit her sick brother. I don't want to go out of town and leave or even travel with my 18.5 yo cat; I have more loyalty to her than my own family. Norma offered to help while we were out on our walk today. I couldn't go visit my family for long, because I couldn't afford the hotel. It feels awful to contemplate a trip to your hometown and have no place to stay; everybody else has moved away except for my exMIL. She'd welcome my son and I, but it'd be so weird.

 

Okay, I'm not depressed. I swear.

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Imagine this

You've stayed at someone's house for perhaps a week total over the last month. Although you generally do not drink tea or coffee because an unceremonious glass of tap over the sink suffices, you have made that someone tea regularly per his convention and have had some yourself. In that short amount of time, you realize that one small mug, a sort of composite plastic one, gets very hot in the microwave. After finding that out, you once even boiled the water in another mug to transfer to this one. The blue one is light and smaller, so the "standard" two minutes in the microwave is entirely too much and you wish the "House Standard for His Highness' Tea" were adjusted by someone to account for the physics of cup composition, cup weight, cup size, and the resulting variance in amount of water contained and heated.

Imagine that you are fully dressed one morning, occupied by the sink on the other side of the small galley kitchen, and without your knowledge someone has used the overheating mug in question. All the while, you have assumed, with it being someone else's possession and with someone else living there for a year, that someone was aware of the limitations his own slight mug. And you felt it not your place to point it out, because who are you with only three weeks on the job total? And you didn't want another mountain made out of a mole hill again, aka the song and dance that you feel something about a given subject and then are given in return a litany about why you shouldn't feel that way.

Suppose someone grabs said mug in the microwave, reacts to the heat of the handle, knocks over the mug, and boiling hot tea spills all over the counter and floor. Suppose that you're the only one in the kitchen with shoes on, but you step back and adeptly on your own avoid all harm. Suppose someone else who is right next to the microwave is in skivvies, barefoot, with the great savior with arms flung out to shield the peons behind him, that someone only really needing to save himself.

After the mess is cleaned up by the someone causing it and by his insistence to not have help... oops, let's go back to the discussion about the still hot mug and, as it turns out, its companion from the cabinet. Suppose you remarked that the cups will go in the trash, right? And suppose you were met with a tap dance, then rationalization that he could give them to his boys to play with when they visit on holidays/summers. Imagine saying that the mugs could recirculate to the kitchen to be potentially reused, that they should be in the trash, that they are dangerous. Danger, Wi11 Robinson, danger. That finally sinks in and the mugs go into the trash.

Round Two. Now it's time for the replacement cup of tea. It was prepared in a more substantial mug and put into the microwave for the standard two minutes. Suppose you were standing next to the microwave when it beeped at the end, and you joked, "I'm going over there," indicating a proposed move to the opposite end of the kitchen.

How surprised would you be if someone got mad.to.the.core over your joke? If someone felt made fun of to the very essence of his being? Suppose someone then said in all seriousness he saved you the last time and you should be grateful?

This someone, who requests that people be thick skinned enough around him that he's allowed a bad day, is so routinely thin skinned that everything can be misconstrued to bother him. It is explained that you joking about another potential tea catastrophe is akin in his mind to a scenario he hears at work and you are then considered callous with a poor sense of humor demeaning people.

At work
Guy 1: A A A A SChhhhhheeeeeewwwwwwwww
Guy 2: Hey, man, do you have pneumonia? If you die, I get dibs on your chair.

You joking that you'd go stand by the door is in the same vein as a banal person jokingly wishing a guy dead, something that someone does not take lightly. Someone considers low humor to be too low, but seems to generalize low humor much too broadly. And what he's missing is that joking about the chair really means that you value/like/care enough about the guy enough to be able to joke with him about his chair. It implies a sense of humor.

I think someone must have been picked on too much as a kid and there's not a damn thing that anyone else can do about it. I think it was lovely going to the ba11et with him and it warmed my heart how excited he was to be there, leaning up in his seat to peer over the edge and see the orchestra as well. It was magical. I told him that it was my best gift ever and him enjoying it made it even better.

But as expected, we fought beforehand; we fought afterward, too. The ba11et was magical because he had his mouth shut and he wasn't criticizing me in list format. In fact, as I was leaving shortly after the tea episode, I said, "At least the ba11et was good."

I thought it would be over today, but I couldn't do it with my son around. I left stuff there that I want back. Soon.

Boots made for walking

Although I am not a shoe hound, I do have two pair of low black boots and two pair of knee high brown ones. You'd think I'd have mixed it up a bit, but they were pretty much sale-driven purchases.

 

Despite the fact I don't expect us to last much longer and, of course, I'll discuss that later, going out with Luke has made me dig out shoes. A year ago, I was very unhappy, felt like a cow, and could care less about footwear. I've been a bit more motivated this year.

 

Most of my shoes are unceremoniously stored under my bed and my son dives under there with a flashlight for me periodically to fetch "black with heel" or "black without heel but with buckle" depending on the occasion.  A week ago, as I was digging through my clothes trying to find something, anything that fit and matched, I began pulling out the tall brown boots to evaluate them. Specifically, I was trying to coordinate an outfit for church last Sunday. Couldn't look too much like a harlot or a heathen.

 

I held up one of each type of tall brown boot and asked my son which one he preferred. It was so evident to him, there was no question.

 

"Just look at them, Ma," he said, incredulous that I didn't already know. "This one, um," as he pointed to the mock croc skin, "looks like death and isn't the point of church life?"

 

Where does he get this stuff?

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Warm fuzzies

This morning I dozed on Luke's couch as he readied for work. When he was leaving, after he'd coordinated our outfits for the evening to match, he stuck he head back in the door and said how excited he is about tonight.

(If you saw his hands move, his eyes twinkle, his smile, his small stature, and our coordinating outfits, you'd, too, wonder if he's gay. I'm glad he's not, so I can hit on him effectively.)

Although he even emailed later about making sure to coordinate his shirt/tie with my sweater/skirt, I can't exactly say he's excited by the ba11et per se; his point is taking me to someplace to do something I really want to do. He's begun trusting me that what I like is good. He'd balked a bit ahead of time on some elements of my Thanksgiving spread, but he loved them when it came time to eat.

(Food-picky Norma came, too, and loved it, too, although I'll admit was put out a bit that nobody helped cook at all - even after being asked - and nobody set the table or helped clean up at all. Bastards.)

On Thanksgiving evening, I like to go to a movie. Norma had gone home, as her purpose was to get a lot done on her day off, but Luke didn't want to see the new Will Farre11 movie. I insisted. I said, "Trust me," and he finally did. He beamed afterwards, liking it even more than I and thinking I have great taste. Actually, I was so tired from the cooking etc (oh, just let me play martyr for once, people, plus the turkey kicked in), I had to fight sleep, so I didn't think it quite as good.

I'm not so good at thankfulness and often forget that's the purpose of the day over creating the perfect dinner that is all hot at the same time. Son aside, I will readily admit sometimes it's hard to find things to be thankful for. At least I had good company - although between Norma and Luke, I got my dose of religion for some time. I let them talk, but I did interject once or twice that moral and ethical people do not have to have religion. Norma insists that my religious background is what make me moral and ethical, but I countered that it has been the way I always was, me dragging my family to church when I was five. That was a call for the structure of good, not any inkling of religion itself.

But thankful? I don't know. I'm truly embarrassed, but I'll confess the day made my heart ache for P, with whom I'd cooked the last two years and felt very appreciated. He told me last year that I made his house a home and it makes me cry still. Yesterday, I'd worn a wooden necklace I'd gotten in C0sta R1ca with him and it got lost, not sure if it was at the theater or at Luke's. I didn't even look for it, beyond my hair and shirt. I guess it could be a message from the Universe, huh? I think that's what my therapist would say. (To be clear, I also wore earrings from my sister, who I haven't spoken to in over a year, so the necklace associated with P was not alone in my carrying my sordid past along.) Nonetheless, I am sure that P had a hole in heart yesterday, too. I don't wish that on anyone. I dread Xmas day.

Overall, that's not to say Luke didn't appreciate me being there and cooking - he was kind of weirded out b/c his ex is foreign and he had to do everything with her all the time, so he's not used to being done for. I needed a shade of gray with his help, but he feared coming in the kitchen and taking over, so it was black or white to him in helping. I'm glad this finally came out after the movie, b/c I understood the day better. As we'd prepared for Norma's arrival, we had parallel play while he picked up his piles, much more than was necessary - gosh, this guy can dally more than me - I am constantly trying to keep him on task - and I cooked.alone.in.the.heated.kitchen. My.martyr.hands.still.smell.of.garlic.

Luke is a kind, dear man, but I am still stumbling over my past. Unfortunately, his past is even more present than mine and I was a pained witness the other night to an extended conversation he had with his ex, someone he has to finesse to milk any cooperation, which feels to me like him cowtowing and I hate to hear him that way, although he wants to in order to see/protect his kids. I think she's dicking him around and I also think he needs to get a handle on it, regardless of who the future women are in his life. It's not fair that a 10 minute check in with his kids turns into a semi-nightly additional 30+ minutes with his ex wife.

There's always another layer to the onion, huh?

I don't want to revisit my past, though. I hope the necklace is gone for good. I guess I need new memories to replace the old. And I am working on that, as is he, regardless of whether we're doing it for each other.

At the end of the evening, as we talked to clarify things and I understood how his actions didn't really match his emotions, I told him it was a wonderful gift to give a warm fuzzy, especially when cooking at Thanksgiving is a natural thing for me to do. It is very special to be able to give that just doing what I am good at. With all he's been through, he deserves a warm fuzzy, but I do, too. Mine comes tonight in color coordinated outfits.

Getting my way

When Luke said he wanted to see sights around town, I asked what he might like to see. He said that more than anything he wanted to see what I had not yet seen, but really wanted to. [melt]

That's what led us to the art gallery on Saturday. I have a few more of them I've ignored too long. There are also a number of museums I've yet to take in. He said that if they're kid-oriented, we should save them for when his kids visit, but he'll see the more mature ones with me.

Honestly, I could take the man to the poor house for all the activities I want. I've warned him of as much.

This weekend, we're doing something I have wanted desperately to do for many, many years. We're going to a famous ballet put on by a famous company at a famous place. I've only been to one other real ballet, Swan Lake over a decade ago. For this one, I've seen it in live action on stage and even in puppets. My son even has a computer program of it. Now I will see this piece the real way.

It is the best gift he could have given me. Xmas has come in a little Lat1n package.

Happy Thanksgiving, people. I'm cooking. Grub is at Luke's. My son is with his father, Norma's is with his father, so I'm trying to get her to come to Luke's, too. It'd be good to walk after a big dinner.

Mop Memorial

My mother's dog died yesterday morning.

 

My mother had flown out on Thursday to visit with her brother in the windy Midwest. I've mentioned before that her brother was found to have colon cancer and had surgery this summer. He had quite severe complications, additional surgeries, paralysis, physical therapy, and spent over 90 days in the hospital.

 

My mother really needed to see him.

 

My mother really didn't want to board her dog to go visiting, but she did. She said her 14+ yo shitz tzu, Nina, was bounding around like a pup Thursday morning. Nina loved when the weather turned cooler. About five years ago, my mother feared Nina's quality of life was too low; she was in arthritic pain, but prednisone did wonders and it gave her five more years.

 

My mother's flight was early Thursday, so she had a friend take Nina to the vet for boarding. Somewhere in the transition, nobody gave the vet the phone number where my mother would be. The dog, who did not like going to the vet, went into cardiac arrest very soon after arriving.

 

She was not a sweet or cuddly dog. She was a pain and liked to inflict painful bites to mother, vet, groomer, grandmother. I'm not sure if I ever even touched the dog. Nonetheless, my mother loved her.

 

The vet, who really thought ill of my mother for not visiting her sick dog, misunderstandings abounding, kept Nina alive through the weekend, making special trips in to check on her. He said he knew she was ill because she didn't try to bite him once. When my mother arrived to pick her up Monday morning, the vet pulled her aside and gave her the news. He told her that he feels like the stubborn dog lived only to see her return.

 

My mother took Nina home and snuggled together with her on the couch. Nina got down eventually and asked to go outside. She definitely had her wits about her. Then my mother put her back on the couch and my mother heard her gasp, knowing it was the big one, Elizabeth. My mother took her back to the vet and tough little Nina still had a faint heartbeat, but my mother asked that she be put down.

 

My son made her a card last night. I'm not sure what else to do. I feel like my mother is so lonely because her best guy friend moved away over the summer and my grandmother is withering away with A1zhimer's. I know she doesn't want another dog, but sometimes I wish we could move down there to give her some company.

 

With my cat now rounding 18.5 years, I understand the dilemma between having a life and caring for an aging pet. I've not visited family in other states because I do not want to disorient my precious cat.

 

I am so sorry about Nina and what she meant as a companion to my mother. She said they gave her flowers at work today, so I'm glad they're there for her.

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Our three sons

After the movie on Saturday night, we were driving home and I was pointing out sights, one of which was a pool hall that I took my son to a month ago. Luke asked if I wanted to go, so we did. We lucked into seats at the bar directly in front of the TENNIS TV!

 

We'd both really enjoyed the movie and things were good, despite the military gate stuff from earlier. After regaling about too much tennis, I began talking about my son, something about his grades. During the parent-teacher conference, I learned that he's doing well this year, above grade in math, science and social studies. He's on grade in reading, as expected. I said to Luke that his reading, although it has improved, really frustrates me, because he'd probably be in the gifted program if he did better, that it's kind of a waste that he's not allowed to do the other subjects in the gifted program.

 

Luke replied bitterly, "Do you know how painful it is for me to hear about your normal son in light of my own? Do you understand how much I wish my son was getting good grades and able to do well in school?"

 

At birth, Luke's eldest had flat-lined and needed a c-section. Luke was told the boy would not make it, but he did. With years of therapy for his developmental delays, he has thrived, but he is apparently still a little slow, although I can't define that any more completely. He is reading on first grade level, right where he should be. Of course, I have not met the boy, but I know how hard Luke fought for his care (mom wouldn't even take him to the dr or therapist) and how successful Luke has felt with the progress. (Further, Luke's younger son has tested positive for a grave disease, but has not exhibited signs of it. From what I've read, it can come out of dormancy at puberty. It's not a picnic with either of his kids and it weighs heavily on him.)

 

But he had another thing coming if he thought I would roll over on that nasty comment to me about me talking about my son. I told him he needs to get a grip that I am not comparing kids. My son had a bad placenta and, if my water had not broken early, my son might well have the same or worse. Of course, Luke's take is that it didn't happen, so I didn't really earn that martyr's feather in my cap, my words.

 

Further, I told him he does not need to resent my son for being an agreeable, easy kid. Luke had lamented how my son is good in art, makes friends, plays sports, whatever and does things his son is not so good at, apparently. I honestly don't know how to read the filtered data I get about his boy - I'd thought that reading on first grade level in first grade is pretty good - my son read on K level for the first half of first grade.

 

Anyway, I told him that I've been through the resentful before. I had the good kid, ex-f had the bad one, as much as I hate such statements. My kid was easier to love even by ex-f and he was easier to be around and plan things around than a teenaged girl. So, for being easy and easy to love, my son was ultimately resented by ex-f. And if my son ever misbehaved, all hell broke loose in kind of an open season on the otherwise good kid.

 

Luke understood.

 

I also told Luke proactively that he needs to wipe out resentment that he could potentially feel just because my kid is local and he could possibly be around my son more than his own. Will his loyalties be divided when he falls for my kid? How will this play for the holidays/summers when his kids are around? How step-childy could this become?

 

Luke understood.

 

I told him that I will not stop talking about my son, positive or negative. I told him that his comments were out of line. Exasperated, he asked what could have been done better with his words, because he didn't see any other words to express his feelings. I said that he could just listen to me get out what I needed to get out and he could bring up his own line of discussion the next day so that it didn't feel like a comparison. I had the floor, I was talking about my son - he was the one bringing up his own. His agenda was not the issue at hand from my perspective. Apples and oranges.

 

So he asked if there was any better way to phrase his comment if he did not want to wait. I said there would have been a means of eliciting some empathy instead of hackles just by saying, "You are so lucky that your son is x,x,x,x and x. I wish the same for my son(s)." While this is not perfect (ie, I had the floor, so it would be preferable to redirect another line of comments to later), it would have gotten a little different response out of me. I do not want to feel deflated for bringing up my son.

 

Man, we sure have condensed some hot issues into this mini relationship of ours. And we still don't hate each other. In fact, Friday night after going to four bars/dance clubs and while we were still at the last one, he was gazing into my eyes (all total we had two drinks each, so it wasn't hazy gazing), he said, as he is prone to do, "I want to say things that I should not yet say."

 

We've both criticized the 'L word' and how it comes up too quickly. Guys will say it to me within a month or two. Luke said he recently got the "you would be so easy to love" comment on a second date. (Jeez, was she wrong! He's a PIA!) He feels strongly that anyone using the word too early doesn't really understand the emotion. So, we are both very conscious of not going there, not rushing further what has already been rushed.

 

He'll be gone 10 days in mid-December and then I'll meet his kids over Xmas. Absence and then combining kids, those will be the real tests.

__________________________________________________
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Visuals from the weekend

Luke and I saw 007 on Saturday night. Stellar and deserving of 95% + on Rotten Tomatoes. It was so crisp and gritty. Danie1 Cr@ig wasn't the wussy, awkward type that the media had falsely portrayed when his role in this movie was announced. He was perfect, sexy in an nontraditional way.

I wasn't so crazy about the love interest, Eva Green. I didn't see her deserving of the exaltation to Bond Girl status, but she a good job as an actress. I really didn't understand her at the end, though, but that's a script thing.

For earlier on Saturday, Luke had wanted to do some sightseeing, my choice. I took him to my favorite small museum. The exhibit was unique and we were both glad to have seen it. Then we went down the block to a large art museum I had not visited before. For him claiming to not know anything about art, he had keen powers of observation. Plus, he listened when I tried to teach him some art history. I really appreciated that.

In between the museums and movie, he wanted to make a stop on a government installation. With me not having a military id card or my vehicle registered, we had to stop and get a visitor's pass. Of course, the guard felt like my proof of insurance was too old (it was), so he said I'd need it faxed on a Saturday evening from my insurance company. Yeah, right. Luke got on the phone with my insurance and it got ugly. Then it got uglier. He didn't like my behavior, but he had not come clean with what had happened on the phone, so I didn't have all the facts at my disposal. He also didn't quite understand how much I really despise military things.

Later, when he brought it up to discuss (b/c the guy can't let anything rest), I asked him to see my dynamic - long time military wife w/a marriage ruined by the "mistress" of her husband's job and gyped out of retirement in the process, who feels accosted when trying to enter a military installation. So, when I say "I fucking hate this shit," it is not based on a single incident or a lack of exposure. I've hated this shit for years. In fact, over the last four + years, if I were approached by a military guy, I'd turn tail and run. Luke is a first there and he had to prove a lot to me to get there.

The military lifestyle is a hot button to me pushed too easily. I had told him these things, but he had not seen them in action. Plus, he doesn't blame me for feeling like I do, not in the least, he just didn't like my reaction to that "fucking shit." BTW, we never made it on the base, because the insurance phone directory led nowhere and I wasn't willing to go through all that again with the grocery store closing momentarily anyway. That was another bad choice on his part; the stop was superfluous, frustration unnecessary.

Do you know that when you enter a military post and, depending on the whim of our color coded American life, that when they make you open all the doors/hood to your vehicle, it is done only under the convenient guise of terro.rism? We are actually sheep, baaing 'yes sir' to the little man with all the power while he is actually looking for loose hand guns or other weapons. It's not terror1sts they're after; it's instead a 'free' ticket for them to search you, the law abiding citizen. It is a complete affront to me and my civil liberties. One could say that one should choose not to go on a military base, however, in another hot button issue to me, scouts do their camps on military bases, so parents and volunteers have no choice but to be subjected to it.

Luke is well versed on all these matters with his previous positions. He simultaneously is adamantly anti-war and later constructively expressed to me that I put my energies about government intrusion into something more constructive in that venue and do it along side him. Good resolution.

We had another heated discussion after the movie concerning our kids, but I'll save that for another day. Suffice it to say that we, the hard headed couple, really do take direction well from one another. We discuss and generally resolve without lingering feelings of disdain.

Oh, and I went to church on Sunday with him. I thought the sermon was entertaining fluff (it was actually based on Earl's notion of karma), but Luke said he heard nothing he could grab hold to. Typical. We didn't fight too much about it, but he needs to realize that if he wants me to suck it up and go to church with him, he fucking better like it.

Another oh. He's trying to get me to quit cussing. I am shaking my head.

Ending on an up note: Luke, who'd heard me refer to Uncle Fest3r, asked me which character he might be, I immediately replied P3pe L3Pew. He didn't seem to mind, so it'll have to be one of the things I get him for Xmas. I began calling him P3pe.

Weekend visuals

Of minimal importance to world peace, but, man, was this index entertaining! I looked at almost every one. NSFW or K(ids)

 

Have a great weekend.

 

Who is your favorite?

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ABCs of me

[A is for age:] 44

[B is for beer of choice:] Sam Adams, if not Guinness Half and Half

[C is for career:] Mostly mother, often volunteer, artist in passing lately

[D is for favorite Drink] Black Russian

[E is for essential item you use everyday:] Toothbrush

[F is for favorite song at the moment:] Hello It's Me, Todd Rund.gren, from 1972 has held that spot ever since I got my old analog clock radio for Xmas and would stay up all night listening to music. I learned that I cannot fall asleep to music.

[G is for favorite game:] Yahtzee, which my son and I have been playing a lot lately - it's how I learned math, so he can, too. I always hear echoes of my grandmother grumbling, "those damn twos." Or alternatively Trouble. Or Connect Four. Or Monopoly. We're board game people around here.

[H is for hometown:] yes, I have one or three

[I is for instruments you play:] When I was a kid, I took clarinet for a year, then the accordion for two years. I still have the accordion and sometimes it comes out to be squawked at Xmas.

[J is for favorite juice:] orange - I have an orange juice gulp reflex and it takes all my will power to not down the entire glass thing immediately.

[K is for kids?:] one son

[L is for last kiss?:] juvenile and wet with a big fishy pucker, just a bit ago

[M is for marriage:] once, but no longer, yet dating a man married three times, who swears against it happening again while simultaneously admitting he said that the last time - whatever - I don't need a ring - and I don't need to even be thinking of such

[N is for full name:] Cricket Cricketson, if you must

[O is for overnight hospital stays:] As an asthmatic kid, I stayed in an oxygen tent for a week when I was in K. When I was about 30, I stayed a week because of a myriad of symptoms that were not given a diagnosis, except to say I learned I had endo six months later. Then I had a few days in the hospital when my son was born.

[P is for phobias:] none

[Q is for quote:] "You're not very bright. I like that in a man." Kathleen Turner to William Hurt in Body Heat [which is in direct contrast to how I feel, to be clear]

[R is for biggest regret:] I waited too long to have children, okay, back that up a bit... married the wrong guy.

[S is for sports:] tennis, football, baseball

[T is for time you wake up:] 8:20

[U is for color underwear:] usually yes and all my favorites are blue

[V is for vegetable you love:] spinach if cooked in something like artichoke dip or spoon bread

[W is for worst habit:] picking

[X is for x-rays you've had:] mouth, neck, lungs, arm/wrist, CAT abdomen x2, BE, IVP, HSG, trying desperately to avoid another round of colon invasions

[Y is for yummy food you make:] I make a stellar turkey.

[Z is for zodiac sign:] Leo, although I am not very fussy about my hair


What about you? What are your ABCs? Link to yours here.

Busted

Luke lives about 15 minutes from me. During rush hour in the early morning, it only turns into 25 minutes. Pretty good.

Overlapping with visitation, I've stayed over on two Wednesday nights and one Sunday now. It only took 20 minutes today, but when I rolled up, J was getting out of his dad's van. Jeez, I was embarrassed. Busted.

To his credit, ex didn't act as if anything was out of the ordinary. When we were gathering stuff up to take it in, J asked me where I was. I pretty much told him the truth once we got inside, that Luke and I had watched a movie (C0nstantine) and it was on until 1am, so I just stayed over. That's pretty much the truth and he accepted it. I'm glad he met Luke over the weekend, so it doesn't feel random. Actually, it probably feels pretty good because Luke had a donut craving last night (whatta guy!) and I asked him to buy J one for this morning. Now that was a hit.

This scenario, however, supports ex's contention that I live a "Singles Lifestyle" with all being free and easy. This contrasts strongly with the "Wife and Kid Lifestyle" he sought probably with a reduced capacity for judgment about his own real need for a "Singles Lifestyle."

Alas. I'm a big girl, huh? Unlike Luke's situation, ex and I chose not to have a clause in our divorce prohibiting the opposite sex from sleeping over. (This could be an issue/non-issue over Xmas when his kids come and he wants to keep us on the down low so the youngins don't report back to Mom like they did during the summer.) Lordy, I never expected ex to be the one to do that drill first anyway. Except for once in the Spring when P slept over and J came back from visitation, crawling into bed with us (per his usual modus, so I made sure we had on drawers), the overnighter has not been an issue around here. Last night was kinda the opposite, anyway.

However, Luke is wanting it to be an issue, or at least to try to be sneaky about it. I am accustomed to being a free agent and only visit during visitation, but Luke feels hampered by that. He wants to come here for dinner and Monopoly, for example. He wants a real relationship and has discovered my walls, my ill-placed boundaries. He's willing to help me fix things around my house so I'll be more comfortable doing that. He is a treasure.

Another reason he's a treasure. Last night, I had him set up as the face-only model for my art class. (If I know you, I'll send you a copy. Even though it was only my third portrait, it was the best in the class. Woot!) He was dog tired, but he's a trooper. In fact, he was offered OT for two hours at work, which translates into comp time, something he's saving for his boy's visits, he declined because of his plans with me.

I am touched on so many levels. He kept a promise to my class and teacher. He used those two hours with me instead of saving them for his kids down the line. He chose me over work.

For my marriage, the military was the mistress. I didn't stand a chance. With P, his daughter was the mistress. I thought we could co-exist, but he didn't have the backbone for that. I have found a man who values our time together and doesn't (within reason) want to put something ahead of me. Priceless.

My lovely

Go give DD some love today, D and C day after confirmation yesterday that Wolf did not make it.

Life is cruel.

While you're there, click on the badge. That is one cool website. DD puts it to good use.

Health, shmealth

On the phone tonight, before I even talked about my day, Luke asked me how close to meno-whateverthatwordis I am.

He wants to get his brain around my baby-making abilities without confessing to love me forever and ever, but it isn't a very subtle topic. He knows I have one tube blocked and endo, but he wants to know what's possible. He says he forgets 44 with me, because he sees 33. I don't have the feeling that he'd dump me if I can't; if anything, I think he's surprised himself at wanting this enough to ask about it.

I am a sucker for a guy who actually wants to be a father.

I told him that there's bloodwork that can show how close to menopause a woman is. If 25 or higher is menopause, I was down at 6 a year and a half ago; I didn't go beyond discussing FSH, except to say that I don't know if my eggs are shot. I don't know why I was only allotted one pregnancy in this lifetime. I do know I would need help to get pregnant and that at my age they would go big guns, if they went at all.

Why didn't I meet him four years ago?

He won't come out and say he wants to have a baby with me, but it is certainly the implication. I have told him that it is a desire I have tried hard to put out of my brain. It is also something I could have chosen to do on my own, but I didn't want to do it without the package - relationship, living circumstances, etc. I raised one baby alone and I don't want to do it again.

I told him that I went for my annual physical today. Because I've been having pain during sex (during jostling, not penetration, and he was aware of that; he's more intense/forceful than previous lovers), that I'm getting a pelvic u/s and I am going back on bcps. He wondered aloud how I could go on bcps if I want another baby. I was pretty stunned at the question. It is wonderful, after my history and feeling that my body has failed me, that he would even consider it. Bless his naive little heart. He's so sweet and he just doesn't understand.

I had to explain how the bcps will regulate my period, lighten things (even if things are pretty light anyway), and reduce the chance of cysts. All these things will reduce pain and, just by having the cycle regulated, I will better be able to identify which pain is what. (I chose not to discuss with him the bleeding from the wrong orifice that happens each month, but if it decreases, then it means it is endo of the bowel, not colon cancer. I have a scopy appt to make, but I really, really hate that stuff. BTDT. Won't go back if I can possibly help it.)

The doctor and I also discussed my thyroid. I began taking less thyroxine in June because I wanted to be calmer. It worked. My weight loss slowed, so I began walking and that was good. The bad came in Sept and has continued - my nose, hands, and feet are chronically cold. I've know for a while that the dosage that maintains a calmness in me is not physiologically enough for the rest of my body. So I am going to be playing with the dosages/brands again (plus bcps change the thyroxine's effectiveness, so everything could go to hell and has to be re-titrated) and I am really dreading how vulnerable it makes me, how irritable I feel. I'm coming up on the one year anniversary of a lot of bad stuff. I do not want to replay it.

I deserve to be well, but I truly resent the process and goodness knows I do not want to take it out on Luke. He is precious. This baby stuff is a complication I was not anticipating. It is an incredible thought, but how realistic is any of this?

Weekend Update

Luke and I went to see Babel during his day off on Friday. I should have clued him in on the 21 Grams connection and all the intensity.

(Do you know how much I love that he's movie connoisseur enough to have seen 21 Grams, plus more mainstream flicks than I? I just need to fill in the indie gaps. Well, as basic disagreements between us go, he's a Princess Bride type, which I hate, and I'm a Spinal Tap type, which he hates.)

Coming out of the flick, I didn't anticipate his comment that he goes to movies to be entertained, not stressed. Although I didn't think to say it, but I believe that if a movie stressed you, it did it's job successfully. It was a stressful movie. Painful. He's a sensitive person and a father. I'd worry if it didn't get to him. The teenaged Japanese girl in Babel is so much like L, it is scary: same desperation and hunger for, while simultaneously shunning, affection. L was the text for her expressions as well.

I felt a Babel moment during the movie. There was an expressive woman sitting behind us, reacting to every nuance in the movie. When a guy got a call via a silenced phone and began to walk out, I noticed it only when he got on the large aisle in front of me. While I was able to faintly tell he was whispering, I could tell nothing more. Fine, he got a call and he was handling it quite unobtrusively. At the same point I noticed him, so after the guy had already answered and begun his call and his exit, the woman behind me noticed him and hissed a loud, "Shhhhhhhhhhh" that was so very counter indicated, I wanted to wring her neck and stop her Babel/babble self from making any noise at all. I call it redundancy; I hate people who just want to hear themselves talk/hiss/get the last word.

It was a good movie and I recommend it.

On Saturday, Luke met my son and Norma. Norma's son was singing in a chorus and she gave us free tickets. I figured that sharing a dose of religion with him would be good, even if it was Mormon, something he's not. He had a quizzical look as he tried to digest how Norma could be Mormon and me atheist, yet we could be friends and not hide our perspectives.

I would hope it could be a model for his and my "relationship." Although a relatively liberal Democrat, he is a faith-driven person, a characteristic which is too often associated with the right. He is presently attending a denomination that encourages Bible study and he goes several times each week; I would generally characterize it as a right-leaning denomination, although I personally know there are more liberal ones out there. This is the same denomination as ex grew up in, so I am well familiar with it.

Luke, however, is not enjoying some aspects of this church/preacher and me suggesting that he try my old denomination was a light for him. In fact, during the day between two big evening fights last week, I looked up the local churches of this denomination to determine what they're like and perhaps find one with classes in the evening. (Me having done that was actually a turning point in the second fight.) These churches don't have a host of classes, except for perhaps one Wednesday mornings, retiree and SAHM times. I kind of thought that maybe he could double dip for a while taking classes (to include Sunday School) at one and attending another; I'd done that while I was first exploring my denomination over 15 years ago.

He said he'd be willing to investigate another denomination, mine, if I would go with him. I only hesitated a moment, but then I said I would. I don't really need a dose of religion, but I would like a dose of the liturgy. I would feel a rush of the familiar and safe, not a rush of God, but then God says you receive Him whether you want to or not. I don't really want to, but I want to share something with Luke that is important to him. As of yet, I am unclear of Luke's motivation - religious activities partner or conversion? - but I am willing and able to play along for now and I have largely been able to choke back the religious sarcasm I spew here.

I will say that I can play along with Norma, too, going to Easter egg hunts and the like. The sandpaper comes not from Norma, but from the nosy, syrupy, and presumptuous fellow church goers. I could see that dynamic with Luke.

Supposedly at the outset with Luke, my religion or lack thereof was not a deal breaker; his first wife was a non-practicing Jew, second the denomination he is currently in, and third a minimally practicing Muslim. I don't want to be coerced into religious practices, just like I don't want to be stressed out by over exposure and default to spewing anti-religion, when I actually do respect his pursuit of whatever angle he wants. I respect from a distance; I just don't yet know how great a distance.

During the week, I said we'd go next Sunday, when I don't have J. During our lunch together before the performance Saturday, he asked if we could go this Sunday, today. I declined.

I'll explain. Luke had been concerned about J's reaction to meeting him, how momentous it might be. J takes things in stride and I think that's because he already has a dad who is very attentive. J's goal with me dating doesn't really involve him; he tells me, "Mom, I just want you to be happy," if I ever quiz him.

On the flip side, Luke is concerned about his boys and keeping it cool between us while they're here - it's six weeks away, so he's really planning ahead. Apparently, his boys went home and blabbed about witnessing a kiss between Luke and his summer romance. I respect he doesn't want to appear as if he's going through one woman after the other since moving here. I also know that with his eyes and smile and attention, it'd be tough for him to hide his affection for me.

My son is grounded in these matters, even when he was Luke's boys' ages. What would rock his world would be sudden church attendance happening because of who I am dating. That would go beyond me being happy while dating and introduce Sunday School and new thought patterns, things the I fear would swing Fundamentalist because of his grandmother and cousins' influence. I've said before that I do not want to discourage him from religion, as I see a knowledge of it making one fit better in Western society, but I really don't want to be the one to have to do it.

Luke had asked previously if J wanted to go to church, would I take him? I replied that ex has just as many weekends as I do, so I would want the responsibility to fall to ex. The thing is, although ex became my old denomination, I believe his wife is the one the Luke is attending now. It's not really the brand I would prefer for J to learn. The best way for J to get the version I prefer, I'd need to do it. Ironic, the atheist needs to do the guiding with what is deemed a necessary evil. I just don't want J to get anything toward the Fundamentalist end of the spectrum.

All in all, things are very good. Today we had an extended phone conversation without fighting. I see us as beyond a novelty. Honestly, I think the substance is there, but I am not ready to declare it. He's in the same position. In the modern dating world, it isn't asking someone to go steady like in junior high, it is getting to a point you want to pull your ad online. I am certainly to that point and said so in so many words today, but I am not willing to take that step until some more time has passed. The time would not be in order to try to meet someone else; it would be in getting used to change.

As I was leaving my therapist's on Wednesday, after I'd talked about him for 45 minutes and was quite embarrassed at the speed of our attachment, she quipped, "Next thing I know, you'll have run off to Vegas this weekend and gotten married." It's so much fun to think in those terms, but I very much don't want to cheapen us by moving at record speed. I prefer to be led kicking and screaming, but Luke has made falling for him so easy, whilst we are so difficult and butt heads. I like the challenge, which is quite an enjoyable one actually.

Home Sweet Home

He calls it his mobile home and insisted upon sleeping in it. Quite the digs thanks to dad's shipment.

Now I have to try to mobile the home so I fit in bed, too.

 

Music man

Luke got a new MP3 player. He has an old computer and bad connection, so we figured I'd try putting songs on it.

Where do you download MP3s?

I keep finding streams of music, but not many downloads.

Do you pay or can you recommend free? What is the best way to do this? How much do they cost?

He wants to put money on an account for me to do this, but I want to find free if possible. Blues in particular. (Yet another significant overlap in our tastes.)

I started doing this for my son's player he got for his birthday, but then he discovered the FM radio on it, so I was off the hook. I think I was using All ofMP 3. com, but I found it cumbersome. Maybe they're all that way?

I kind of wish I'd paid better attention when ex-f was loading his player with a couple thousand songs for free last year. He could search and essentially snag a song off of somebody else's computer if it was connected/participating. I don't remember the site or the software, but he had it down to a science.

I have a lot of them on CD, but that's not transferable, right?

Please help me get into this century.

PS -
Normal school day tomorrow +
Federal holiday tomorrow =
Two horndogs free all day

It makes me blush

The fullness of this is amazing, stunning, and ever so pleasant. Indulge me.

We've concluded that we cannot talk on the phone. We will misunderstand, pick, and fight. It is ugly and drags into the hours. We agree on 99.9% of life, but that 0.1% nags, nay, shouts at us.

Face to face is a different story entirely. His face is a beacon, lit up and clear. His dark eyes dart around and laugh. His full smile quickly triggers my own. Smitten, we mirror each other.

OMG I needed this. The chemistry. The ease. The brain. The opinions. The bod.

I have never been able to fight so passionately and unload such despicable, nasty feelings, yet get over it and really want to proceed with an open mind and heart. Both of us. We do that for each other. We haven't held grudges and we work hard to learn and apply, even if the learning curve is quite spicy.

(Tap tap tap, Cricket. It's only been a week. We fear you've lost perspective, but we appreciate your reveling.)

As I left this morning after being up all night with this scrumptious machine, he begged me, "Please don't call. Use email, but please don't call."

I can handle that.

Talk the talk

I was in the bathroom yesterday around 4.

It had been a strangely miserable day. Luke has gotten under my skin (good way), but he'd also gotten under my skin (bad way.)

I'd been in my pajamas until past 2pm, writing and sorting thoughts. Some would call that a relaxing day, but I was diswrought, not lazy. We finally talked on the phone and things seemed better. I felt better, wanted to get the day moving.

So I showered and mentally kicked myself for not voting in the morning when it wasn't crowded. As I stood in the bathroom doing my hair and make up starting to look human, my son, who had witnessed my day long funk, peeked around the door, and exclaimed, "You must really liiike vooooting!"

Indeed. My vote actually counted. And there was only one person ahead of me in line.

Later in the evening and true to form, Luke and I went at it again on the phone. I'll try to summarize, but the fullness of his thoughts is hard enough for my brain to comprehend, much less put it into words.

Going with a banal description, he expects me to read his mind and states that what he thinks is logical. Me, I answer his questions truthfully and figure if he dares to ask about me and anal sex, I'll tell him, no problem. Hence, I don't want him to ask questions he doesn't want the answer to, particularly if I don't understand the motivation behind his question, while my motivation is purely to be honest, even if it might hurt. I am not his to allow his heart to be broken by me so quickly through any revelations. I am chatty and conversational and not committed. He needs me to temper myself and I need to embrace that.

We all know I lament. My personality type is INFP. The short summary for how an INFP sees the word is at this Myers Briggs dating site. Is the glass half full or half empty? Please tell me yours.

INFP -- But look! A crystalline vessel, filled with shimmering, life-giving nectar!
INFP - Can't you see how this glass represents our world? It is neither perfect nor bad, it's simply here and its value is determined by each and every one of us. We cannot survive if we don't drink the water...if we don't get along with our fellow people. [When the other entries have about 10 words.]

I want Luke to take the test. I have theories about his, but of course he thinks it is a stupid test.

As a guy, he doesn't want to feel like I lament or wax nostalgic about some random dick. Fine, however when I talk about someone I dated, someone/something he asked about specifically, I do not want to paint random dick as an unworthy asshole, because that reflects poorly on me and my choices. See above. There's value in whatever that water or glass is.

Luke doesn't want to hear both sides of the tale and I contend that he then shouldn't ask. As it stands as a resolution, we are both trying to contain our styles - me going into less detail and him not leading me that way or allowing me to continue if it hurts him. We have such chemistry otherwise. I am under his skin, too.

This so ridiculously complicated for the short time we've known each other.

But through him, I do see a glimpse to the other side with a man who thinks and doesn't require that I lead. I will be led kicking and screaming toward the thing that I want - an equal partnership. And feeling unsettled or at the short end of awareness is uncomfortable, but it is an opportunity for growth. I am grateful for the chance. Past relationships didn't work and this is a chance for a new dance; I am learning the steps.

And I'm sure I'll want to wring his neck again tonight, but maybe it'll just be foreplay and not mental gymnastics.

A comparison

Libby asked the hows and whys.

Length of time known
Tom: a month? maybe a little more?
Luke: two weeks

How
Tom: met in bar
Luke: met online when he contacted me

Amount of communication
Tom: 1-2 hours in a bar plus two longer phone calls
Luke: one week of weak emails, a number of very lengthy phone calls and the better part of a weekend, followed by more lengthy phone calls

Last time talked
Tom: about two weeks ago
Luke: this afternoon

Availability
Tom: married twice, hasn't dated in two years, has two teenaged kids locally he sees a lot, has little other life, has a job that he works over and travels and he admits he does not delegate like he should
Luke: married thrice, has dated and even had fuck buddies, has two younger kids who visit holidays/summers, likes taking classes at church and is working on a higher degree, has a job that occasionally requires extra work but what goes on is delegated extensively

Looks
Tom: fair, smaller guy, very wide shoulders, quietly cute, shy smile, more guarded with body language
Luke: dark, smaller guy, almost as wide shoulders, oozingly cute smile and twinkling eyes, almost flamboyant, Lat1n body language to where he's confused for being gay

Lover
Tom: ? but I suspect bland
Luke: thinks sex lasts for hours, a marathon with breaks, in which multiples abound with great skill and ease

Personality
Tom: introverted and less confident, but with a cowboy sexiness, perhaps too gentle and potentially a pushover
Luke: intensely connective, very thorough with questions, challenging one's character and backbone to the point one (I) want(s) to wring his fucking neck

What other points of comparison should I make? Except you see there really is no comparison.

I'm not going to post the expose I crafted this morning. Luke and I were quite angry at each other on the phone last night. He called after lunch today and requested a do over. It took a lot of talking. We value each other intensely and far too quickly. I don't want this spark to be a flash in the pan. I keep trying to get him to pull back for perspective and let things unfold more naturally and gradually. Maybe he can.

Maybe he can forgive me for my past and realize that that's where it is and I can simultaneously forgive him for his past, me with the faith that that is where it will stay. To me, it is simple. I can look forward, but I fear he's more ghost-oriented than I. For him, the wounds are fresher with his last marriage (things had gone south at least five years ago, but his divorce was only final in the Spring) and he is more reactionary as a result. The pendulum has not normalized again yet. We can choose to work it out together. Or not. As long as I don't have to walk around on egg shells, I'll be fine, because I am confident that what was in the past for me is in the past.

But I really like him and could be with him endlessly.

I can give up walking with Norma now

My legs will be getting in such good shape.

(Perhaps.)

(I can't give up Norma. I'm kidding.)

Luke had a two month relationship over the summer that he later concluded was just physical. I won't let that happen here, but I can reap some benefits, too, along the way. Many, many benefits. We have similar appetites and are working on meshing styles. He's such a good communicator.

And I have found a man to give me a couple screaming organsms in a single day. Very good for me.

He is so cute, with such bright eyes and smile, I could smoosh him up. At the same time, he has such character and strong moral compass, that he's not some teddy bear push over. I can respect him. It is the perfect combination. He's a little guy, simultaneously a kid and an incredibly evolved adult.

Several times over these last few days, both in person and on the phone, we have disagreed quite strongly about several topics, things that are probably distinct, yet overlap. It has gotten graciously heated, or lack of a better way of putting it. I've gotten frustrated. I've also gotten a glimpse of what it's like to talk to me and deal with my own intensity. I value that immensely. I value a guy who thinks and has a backbone. What he needs a better dose of is agreeing to disagree without it feeling like a judgment.

With no lead in, he whispered to me last night in the dark, "Just think, if we'd have met ten years ago, we'd have a bunch of kids running around here." It melted my heart, that a staunch, great-to-the-core dad would hypothetically "regret" not having kids with me. Even with me talking about parenting and infertility very little, he knows how important children are to me and what kind of mother I am.

And for reference, I will talk very little about it to him so that he doesn't figure out the categorization of my blog, as I had to admit I appeal mostly to a single audience, except for an old guy down South who has a crush on me. (Hi Ron!)

He'd asked one of those nights on the phone what I read on the computer and I told him blogs. He then asked if I had a blog. I stammered, not ever getting that question before, but I didn't want to lie to such a direct question. So, of course, he asked the address and I said that if I told him I'd have to shoot him. He persisted in being curious, but I asked that it drop.

On Friday night, he admitted to looking for it, but not knowing how to look. I did not offer up about blog search engines. I know he wants to read it so he can know me better. I countered that a lot of a blog's purpose is ranting and, when the pendulum swings back, I am a more rational person. I need the blog as a safe place to rant as well as a place to organize my thoughts.

He joked on Saturday that he had no time at all to look for my blog although it was on his 'to do' list. Then he asked about how often I blog and I told him kinda daily. He asked if he would have a fake name if I ever blogged about him and I replied that my goal is to be anonymous, but I had blogged about him already, he already has a fake name, and he has fans, too. That made him smile.

I could see being very paranoid about an unknown like this. I explained that sometimes SOs know, sometimes not. Sometimes the SOs who know don't read and some bloggers like that and others feel neglected.

What I know is that blogging does not paint me in the best possible light and that is not my intent. I also explained that if he went back and read my blog, he wouldn't necessarily see the full story, that sometimes you don't go back to a to expound upon a topic after it was resolved. I said that him reading what I wrote if it was about him would seem inaccurate because the writing is a work in progress which doesn't convey the whole story necessarily. Also, condensing weeks of writing into a single quick reading is not reflective of the real dynamics that it feels like as life unfolds. Further, reading it incompletely told or condensed over a short time would rehash things that were already settled and done. He seemed to grasp that.

When he brought it up today, asking ifI blogged during my 90 minutes at home today, I told him I hadn't. Then I asked, in turn, if he talked to his sister today.

See, the other night after we got off the phone at 2am, he called his sister half the country away. I didn't ask what he told her, but it was evident about his excitement. Then on Friday when we met, I was looking sleek in all black and he went more casual. Almost the first words out of his mouth were, as he shook his head, "My sister told me to wear all black." He'd just gotten off the phone with her.

So when he asked today if I had blogged, I equated it to him using his sister as a sounding board and he had an 'ah ha!' moment. He understands now. He's a rather persistant person, so I don't see his curiousity ending, but I do know that he gets it on some level.

It feels very good to have the boundary, yet be honest. I didn't have that before.

And I think I have the potential for more as well.

Titling abilities have abandoned me. Make suggestions.

I don't generally get excited about dates, not much choosing clothes in advance or feminine prep beforehand.

However, with Luke I was excited about the idea of meeting him. We'd clicked on the phone so much, I had sweaty palms and butterflies as I drove and waited in the bar/restaurant. Prep: painting toenails, trimming bush, black lacy bra, black thong. I broke all the rules I'd made, but I broke them before I went, so it was completely my choice. That's not to say that my voice didn't indicate "no" and my eyes "yes" throughout the evening. I went with the eyes. I have officially become a hedonistic, wonton woman. It's about time. He's my fifth on my orgasm roster; what a feat and what a find. I must be getting easier in that regard, too.

His pictures do not do him justice. He is a cutie pie, animated with bright eyes, using his hands a lot to talk, very expressive, smiling for no reason at all and doing so constantly. We are so much alike, sometimes it's like looking in the mirror. We met for drinks that turned into dinner that turned into a club with dancing. He's not a spastic white boy, but he'd joke that has to do with his bloodlines. Just plain yummy. Score!

He is both Lovely Luke and Lucky Luke. Let's see about tonight.

Top that

Yeah, five and a half.

I thought last night would be a typical phone call. I waited until after Earl (I actually watched TV and planned my evening around something on TV like a normal American) and, according to plan, called after I got my son in bed. I didn't expect to go until 2:30 or to be awake past 4. Me, a non-phone person on the phone so long. Him, commuting, working, with a doctor's appt at 8am. Ridiculous already.

So he booked me for both Friday and Saturday nights. What a pleasant turn of events.

I couldn't begin to relate all we discussed, some good , some bad. He and I are both pretty staunch about our belief systems, but they seem to mesh pretty well. Amazingly well. It's good to know his brain this way. He's a red blooded guy who actually thinks. He asked me what would be a deal breaker, a concept that is vital and fascinating to me since dating Sal, the Middle Eastern guy from a few years ago, who chided that it doesn't matter there are 20 good reasons that you need/want a Mercedes, it doesn't matter if that you don't have the money. In this situation, I said that first off, a guy who attends a Bible study each Wednesday night when I only have Wednesday nights and every other weekend off is a deal breaker. He immediately said he'd find another class.

The night before he'd wondered if my son wanted to go to church would I take him. I said that he's exposed a bit through scouts, that he asks questions sometimes, and that I only recently admitted that I don't believe in God as a result of him pestering me about celebrating Xmas. However, if he wanted to go to church, ex has him just as many weekends as I do, so ex could take him. I am certainly not against my son finding his own way. In fact, he'll be a much stronger person for knowing views, even if he discards them down the road.

I had not discussed infertility on purpose, but he did ask if I'm on the pill. I said I'm not, so he spoke about protection for some time down the road if we are a we. (It's difficult to convey this conversation without it sounding abrupt or crass, because it wasn't.) With me not being on the pill, he asked if I wanted more children. I said I tried for the better part of eight years and it didn't happen, although I would love if it did. For it to happen now, it would take intervention like IVF and that's very difficult on a system and a couple. Of course, he replied with the classic guy response about being quite virile. I countered, "Okay, Mr. Super Sperm, think what you might, but I've tried a long time without success, so don't assume you could change that," and he got the message to shut up. Anyway, it was almost odd that he seemed to raise it as a possibility, kind of left the door open. Even though he's a little older than me, he has two sons younger than mine, is an involved father, and really likes kids, so I don't think it'd be out of the realm for him to want more. Of course, I am truly trying to get over this issue, thinking it would never come up again as I age (ever so gracefully).

Norma would say, "Take it slow. Take it slow," but I'll admit that I figure to get horizontal tomorrow, although I will try to show restraint. I have an excuse: I have an appt to donate blood, so I'll be a cheap drunk. If I allow myself to paint my toenails beforehand... then maybe I'll reveal them. I like spontaneous sex so much more than premeditated sex.

I realize I don't have a name for him yet. Will work on that over the weekend.



I have a lot of other stuff on my plate, stuff I haven't sorted yet, stuff making my stomach turn. And Kellie's news has kicked me in the gut; I care about her well-being so very much. Go check on her.



This article just made me sad, especially the punch line at the end. Whoop, there it is!



I think I'm due for a diversion and some good loving.


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More:
Okay, I'll update here on the sperm thing, because we just finished a three hour phone conversation. (Jeez, I hope he pans out tonight.)

I didn't push this. He brought it up. He's dated a cup twice. The first doctor marveled at his specimen, said specifically he was the most fertile man he'd ever seen. The doctor said motility, of course, decreases over time after ejaculation and that his recent but transported sample was so good that it was like fresh, plus his took a very long time to die. His are spirited and hearty boys, my words. So, he has a basis for his fertility claim. It wasn't just testosterone or boasting. He has a good brand. However, I'm still not clear if he's saying this on the offense or the defense.

PS - I think I'll name him Luke. For all the babies I'll never have, it is kind of fun naming my dates.

Five hours

That's how long we talked. I've never had that happen before. Ha! I'm not even a phone person.

We communicated by email a little bit over the last week, then we talked last evening (and into this morning) for five hours. After a while, he would routinely say that we should have just met up for some coffee, whilst he lamented the missed opportunity, whilst he kept talking. We live less than twenty minutes apart.

He thinks we're very much alike in the way we think and approach things. I tend to agree. He's so perceptive and knew exactly when I, the artful dodger, was side-stepping, then he was willing to call me on it in a way I didn't mind.

We'll go out some time this weekend.

There are lots of pros and likenesses, but I think a con might be his new found interest in being a religious sponge, even as he understood and respected completely my lack of religious conviction in a mutual respect kind of way.

And a potential con is that he is actively seeking a long term mate. While I'm not one for dating around exactly, I'm not sure I am prepared for the responsibility and commitment that a real relationship would require. Nor am I sure I'm not ready. Each relationship is so different. When, after almost five hours he asked that specifically, I told him that I have no idea.

I now wonder to myself how one really know unless one experiences another person for a while? What if longing for the long term hurts too much and it's easier to put it out of your mind and deny it, much like me not petting others' babies for the last eight years?

What I do know is that I have sown my oats. I just don't want to feel put out to pasture, but with a special person being tied down doesn't feel like being tied down. I want comfort and comfortable. This guy is so interesting - intellectual yet approachable, conversational yet a good listener - and sensitive in a positive way that I could see long term with him not getting boring. Now to meet and dig out his dark side.

Linky love

Please go give Kellie some support and encouragement. She got some very bad news and is having an understandably tough time digesting it.

It's called Polite Parent Arm

And trick or treating parents can make a claim annually on November 1.

Kid goes up and, if he's mine, tentatively rings the doorbell, stands and waits, rings again for a longer time, waits more, sees moving shadows through the morphy glass door, and is finally given his prize after he whispers, "Trick or Treat" and then follows up with "thank you." If the homeowner is really lucky, they hear the Darth Vader heavy breathing audio device from the fancy black penis head. Then there's always a glance to the street by the magical candy provider and in return there's always an obligatory mouthed, "thank you," and a Polite Parent Wave, hence the disability after 300 homes.

Okay, not quite that many homes, but I actually encouraged additional homes so I could walk more. (Are you falling for that?) His stash filled my biggest bowl. Makes me very glad I had my bloodwork done for cholesterol etc yesterday instead of today.

We drove to the same neighborhood trough we've rooted through for the last three years.

"Eh?," you say, "Isn't that right near P's old neighborhood?"

"Yup," I reply, as I was knowingly secure that P wouldn't be there and that this place puts out the good loot. Family-friendly with well-lit streets and good sidewalks, they are generous, have great displays, put together haunted house garages/tents, and give name brand candy.

I was, however, reminded of the days of L with all the goth wear of the teenagers, something that is much less common in my normal haunts, so I'd largely put the attire from Hot T0pic out of my mind. I'll never forget three Halloweens ago, her fresh from a week in the psych hospital and all of us squirrely and concerned, walking on egg shells. P called me as I was driving there, because she wanted me to go to the store to buy her some fake blood, which I did. She gleefully slathered it all over her arms, legs, and t-shirt. Although she pleaded, P would not allow her to bring the butcher's knife. While I'm not entirely sure of her costume's label, I believe I can safely refer to it as Modern Suicidal Gesture Goth Teenager Compilation sans Weapon circa 2004 .

Life goes on. Sometimes it's a trick, sometimes a treat.