Hot Flashes? Marriage? HELL NO!
I’m in like the 3rd week of daily doses of hot flashes. This sucks. Really it does. I love summer, love warm to hot weather. But walking around in my own mini-tropical climate has got to go. I keep a hand fan nearby, and when I cannot find it any envelope, folded paper, Avon brochure will due. Winter and there I sit at my desk, bedroom door closed so I can maintain my personal ice-box, made by opening my bedroom window. The cats love it, they see it as full theater experience cat-television when they can sit in an open window. But I think I’ve seen icicles hanging from their whiskers. Knowing my luck they’ll get pneumonia and die and I’ll be left with the guilt.
Thankfully I live with all women because more often than not, when I’m not babysitting, I’m parading around in a sport bra and pajama pants, fanning myself. A truly magnificent sight, no doubt, especially with the beads of sweat running down the small of my back and between the twins. I am I’m used to getting these in spurts of a week or two every so often over the years, but this time they seem to have moved in and paid advance rent for a while. I’d love if I could purchase a few packages, say a years supply, of this mini-heatwave to have the karma bus drop off to all my ex-boyfriends and the ex-husbands.
Today is one of the weird weather days in these parts. Actually seems weird pretty much all over the midwest. It is January 17th, when we are supposed to have cold and maybe even snow. Instead we had thunderstorms and it is 55 degrees outside at the moment. Instead of blizzard or snow storm warnings, we have flood warnings. Lovely. It is NOT cooperating with my need to open the window in an effort to reduce the portable sauna I’m carrying around.
I think there is a conspiracy going on to make me retract my year of no relationships. A few subtle types have tried to weigh things in their favor with “hey, let’s get some dinner, and a few beers sometime and chat”. Sly devils, they know my weakness for food and adult beverages. And then there is one known as Sir Lancelot who has pretty much just parked himself and his horse on the one side of the scale, a scale tipping over achiever. I haven’t figured out how my granddaughter (well soon to be but to me she is already in my heart, why wait til the wedding?) fits into all this but if I didn’t know better I’d swear someone was slipping her payments to help their case. Today in the kitchen, she gave me a hug and the following conversation ensued:
Ryann: I love you, grandma Marti
Me: I love you too Red.
Ryann: You need to get married again.
Me: Why would that be??? (trying to mask the horrified look on my face, and shear terror at the word “married”)
Ryann: Because you need a husband.
Me: Why do I need a husband?????
Ryann: Well, because you do, and then I’d have another grandpa!
It is tough but I had to tell her it is most unlikely that is on my horizon. Not on my current agenda in life, and it requires finding Mr. MaybeRightThisTime and that spells heartache and well I don’t even want to go down that road of thought. The fact that I have had a recurring dream for the 3rd night in the past week, about the ex-hubster and I reconciling and remarrying did not help her case. In case you are wondering, hell is more likely to freeze over and the Mayans to be correct that December this year marks the end of the world, than me and the ex ever reconciling. Once I was set free from that cage that I lived in while married, I REFUSE to ever go back inside. My ex would not have me as I am, the REAL me, so no worries there folks. He’ll find a much meaker, mild mannered woman to conform to his mold, and maybe one day I will find my white knight that prefers to enjoy this bird as she is, no clips, no cage.
Meanwhile, I’m just fanning myself and enjoying life as a single chick. The bright pink one in the midst of the pale yellow ones. Unique, wacky, quirky, sassy, crazy, nut-case and untamable. The way I like it. Marriage?? *shudder* Not likely kiddo, not likely. I’m scared to death of getting in a relationship again. Not only because I don’t want to have my heart broken but I’m also afraid of hurting someone else. Why I’m not sure, as no one keeps me so I’m the one left hurting each time. The very idea of being married again is enough to cause a panic attack of epic proportions and put me in the hospital.