Sometimes…

Sometimes…

I’m too gullible.

I give people the benefit of the doubt.

I forgive and let people hurt me again.

I believe people even when I see red flags and holes in the story.

I just want to believe the best about everyone.

I get hurt.

I get my heart broken.

But…

I got to dream for just a while.

I got to enjoy some attention.

I got to believe sweet things about myself.

Some day maybe…

I will accept that if it sounds too good to be true, it very likely is.

When It Isn’t What You Want

No matter how good something is, if it isn’t what you want, it won’t make you happy.

The bathroom for example.  When I was married, I wanted it rag-rolled with a mauve color.  I went away for the weekend, came home, and the ex-hubs had painted the bathroom to surprise me.  Well him and my VERY pregnant BFF.  He expected I would be tickled to death.  I was less than thrilled.  He painted it, rag-rolled it  even….GREEN!  Then was upset that I wasn’t dancing a happy jig over it.  Sorry.  Yes it was splendid of him to paint the bathroom.  It was institutional WHITE.  Now, the green was better but it was not at all what I wanted so I was not happy.  I often wanted to paint the longest wall in the house that ran between our living room and dinning room red.  He  poo-poo’d that over and over.  My daughter, since our divorce, asked to paint the living room.  It’s ALL red now. Go figure.   His memory fails him, he seems to think I wanted it white.  I wanted COLOR.  I was so envious of my BFF’s house cause she had color everywhere.  But  we never agreed on color so it stayed creamy white like a damn mental hospital.  Oh well water under the bridge.  Our His home looks amazing.  His girlfriend and our daughter have awesome taste.

Relationships are complicated things.  They take work.  Even the very best of them take effort.  Great, life long unions don’t just happen.  Sometimes one or both parties have to roll up their sleeves, or ignore things, or just accept things, and sometimes work hard to keep the flames burning.  But in the end they are  worth it! Except.  Except when it isn’t what you want.

What happens when you stumble along in life and trip over someone who cherishes you, adores everything about you, loves you beyond words, can love you right down off that cliff of anger and temper you are famous for at times (though far less volatile than before thanks to better living through modern medicine), and wants to spend the rest of their life making your life amazing….and you just aren’t ready for it?  Someone who takes every imperfection you have along with all of your good stuff, and wants it ALL.  BUT you simply are  not ready to go there?

This isn’t the first  time I’ve walked away from my biker.  We gave it another go after  the split up a few weeks back.  He  is all of those  things, his heart is huge  and he is a very very good man and adores everything about me.  But I am not ready.  While it seems like we’ve been a couple forever, it has only been just about  3.5 months.  Had we gone down the road we were planning, we’d have been married last weekend.   And I would be far less than happy.  It is just not  what I want.  And I don’t know if  I ever want  that again.  I do love the man, but  I am not at all ready to be married, let alone in a committed relationship.  I thought I was and ditched my plans of 2012 being MY year.  But despite the warnings, “keep your arms and legs inside the  ride”,  this morning I unhooked the safety belt and bailed from  the ride.  And it was just that, a safety belt.

There is something ‘safe’ and secure  in a relationship.  Even one where you spend most of it being fired upon by life.  Hell I’m used to that, for 22 years every time Pete and I turned around it was  something else coming at us like a freight train hauling disaster.  So this time around it wasn’t new, I knew  how  to cope.  But that is just it, I don’t want to cope.  Because I don’t want a relationship.  I don’t want the safety and security of being loved right now.  It doesn’t matter that someone worships the ground I walk on, and that I love him, if I’m not happy.  It all was moving just entirely too damn fast and deep, and the timing is all wrong.

Maybe  I am selfish.  I’ve written about it,  my world  revolves  around ME.  My life and my world is all about ME.   For 2012 especially.  In my world things  I bring in, people I let in, bottom line are for ME.  Selfish perhaps but that is just how I am right now.   22 years of someone being center of my world, and just over 2 years out from that, and I am just not ready to go back to making someone else the center.  It’s all about Marti right now.   I tried like hell but then I wasn’t happy.  I just cannot face not being happy with ME because I decided to go forward with something when I am clearly not ready. My kids are grown, my  marriage ended…a few try-and-failed loves since….but not yet have I taken the time to just enjoy life for ME.  I cannot make anyone else a priority when I have yet to make myself the priority.  So, I got off the ride.  I am sorry he is hurting, but I cannot be what he needs right now.  I cannot make him a priority, and that simply isn’t fair to him.  It doesn’t matter how much  he loves me, what he is willing to give me, do for me  etc., when that isn’t what I want.  Friends, I am all over being friends.  But not  lovers, not  a team.  Not husband and wife and not committed.

Am I wrong? Or did I do the right thing?

100 Marvelous Facts About Me

I’m in a totally fragmented, random kind of mood.  Nothing deep, just typically odd for me.  I’m freaky like that.  Some call me weird, I say gifted.   Regardless of how you define it, I’m so very unique.  Quirky, fun, funny, odd, sarcastic, kind, loving, forgiving….yeah like that.  I have NO idea where this is headed, just random things in my brain.  Consider it a peek into the garden, and be thankful. I don’t open that gate often to the world.

  1. If it is pink, it will catch my eye immediately.
  2. If by chance it is pink and has any amount of bling, I’m on it like a fat kid on a cupcake.
  3. I am fairly certain I am ADD, based on studies regarding stimulants & treating ADD, caffeine and adults.  I over consume but yet sleep even on a full pot of java.
  4. I am OCD about a few things…the bed has to be made for me to get in it, I will check the stove multiple times before I go out of the door, it may be hanging in the art museum but if a picture is crooked, I will straighten it.
  5. I mix my veggies in my mashed potatoes.
  6. Ketchup on roast = awesome.
  7. I snore.
  8. Everybody poops.  At least that is what the book claims, but I cannot prove it as I’ve yet to take a poll on the  matter.
  9. I am not an abstract thinker so I cannot do algebra.  I need concrete stuff to get my head wrapped around it.
  10. I have a big butt.  Hey, I do, why deny it. I can live with it.
  11. I have big boobs too, thanks to the ex and my surgeon.
  12. I love wind chimes.
  13. I think true beauty in a person is what they look like in the dark.
  14. If you don’t understand #13….you aren’t for me.
  15. Coffee is it’s own food group. So is chocolate.  Both are on the bottom of my food pyramid.
  16. One of my favorite things is chubby baby feet.
  17. I drink my coffee black.
  18. I prefer diet colas, cannot handle the sweetness of regular.
  19. I buy wine based on the amusing labels.  If it tastes good to me, I’ll buy it again. I don’t care about the price.
  20. I  just stopped in the middle of this to dust the box fan in my room because it needed it.
  21. I am afraid of the dark so I need a nightlight.
  22. I sleep with a teddy bear, wrapped around it just like a kid.
  23. I actually read and follow the washing instruction tags on all of my clothes.
  24. I only did the laundry when I was married because the ex did NOT read the tags.
  25. Tanning was a way to fight depression during the winter for me. I miss it.
  26. Procrastination is my middle name.
  27. My best work has always been accomplished at hour 11.5
  28. My cat always bathes herself before going to bed. I think this is wise, one just never knows….
  29. Grandma said wear clean undies in case you are in an accident…I just don’t bother wearing any, hee hee hee.
  30. I need a line item in my budget for over due library books.
  31. Reading is an addiction, I will get a quick fix reading shampoo bottles in the shower if necessary.
  32. My lucky number is 13.
  33. Don’t piss me off, you will end up in my novel.
  34. Christmas is my favorite time of the year/holiday.
  35. I despise being cold, but love snow for the beauty…from inside sipping coffee.
  36. I HATE surprise parties, do it and I WILL walk out.  Try me.
  37. Not real big on surprises at all to be honest.
  38. I believe in ‘ghosts’ and think some are demons, some are dead folks that won’t move on.
  39. I hate  wearing shoes, but don’t like being bare foot.  I go through a LOT of footie socks.
  40. I love tattoos.
  41. I have a nose ring, a small little ‘diamond’ but one day will have the real deal.
  42. I’m considering getting my eyebrow pierced.  I don’t really know why, just want too.
  43. Sometimes I spray pink in  my hair, because I LIKE it.
  44. I’m a reformed cat hater.
  45. I’m about 1 bad relationship away now from owning 12 cats.
  46. I am very allergic to cats.
  47. I own a cat.  We’re a package deal.
  48. I love post-it-notes, in anything adorable or pink, not because I  need them I just buy them cause they are cool.
  49. I love anything Hello Kitty, but I’m only just beginning to collect such items.
  50. I’m allergic to bee stings, not deathly, at least not yet, but it is progressing each time.
  51. I cannot, in conversation, just get to the point.  Believe me there is a reason for what color underwear someone was wearing in a retelling of a story that has nothing at all to do with ones drillies.  It makes sense to me so don’t interrupt.
  52. If I don’t write it in my planner/calendar,  it isn’t real likely to happen.
  53. I love the term “fartin shimmy” and I know what one is.
  54. My favorite flowers are equally lavender, pink and yellow roses.
  55. I gave someone a lap dance once to earn their beads – a really cool set of fire fighter ones.  No, you cannot have them.
  56. I’ve posed naked for photos (in my early/mid 40’s), they were published on 2 websites.  Yes I still have them. NO you may not see them.
  57. Because I’m afraid of the dark, very afraid, I keep a flashlight right by my bed. It needs NO batteries, and it’s a cat, eyes light up 🙂
  58. I’m terrified of storms when they get severe or loud.
  59. I’m terrified of fire, so I will not live in a house that I cannot easily escape from via windows that are not too high up.
  60. I change smoke alarm batteries far more often than necessary.
  61. I’ve been told I talk some in my sleep.  I wouldn’t know for sure, I’m asleep when this occurs.
  62. I have a piggy bank.  It is not pink, as this one matches my bedroom, but I actually do put money in it.  I love it.
  63. If what my ex tells me, that sexy is 90% attitude, then I ooze sexy from all of my pores.
  64. I want to live to be 100 years old.
  65. I’ve always gotten along better with men than women.
  66. My shower gel, body lotion, skin softner, deodorant and cologne…are all the same scent.  It’s just one way I roll.
  67. I don’t hold a grudge forever, even when I try.  I’m just too forgiving of a person.
  68. I prefer to be at peace with all people if at all possible.
  69. There are 2 people on the face of this earth that you can note a significant rise in blood pressure just by mentioning my name.  I’m powerful like that! 🙂
  70. I currently cannot see a damn thing. I own ‘hoopty’ spectacles.  One arm on my glasses broke and I’ve not replaced them or my contact lenses to date.  Another way I roll.
  71. Yes, I really was part of the swinger lifestyle once.
  72. It is very unlikely I will ever run for public office.  (see #56 and 71 – enough said)
  73. I don’t get emotionally attached to things anymore, as the ones that should have meant something (like my wedding rings etc) proved worthless in meaning.
  74. I am a reformed pack rat.
  75. “All a girl really wants is for one guy to prove to  her that they are not all the same.” ~ Marilyn Monroe.  I’m still waiting.
  76. I’m perfectly imperfect.
  77. I’m looking for the guy that will love every imperfect part of me, and find it all to be perfectly adorable and love worthy.
  78. Inside this woman that is so confident, sexy, brazen at times and fun on the outside, is an inner child that is shy, scared and needs to be loved unconditionally.
  79. I believe the minute you start finding fault with someone you ‘love’, you’ve begun applying conditions to your love, you show that you don’t love them, but want to mold them and control them.
  80. While I do enjoy being around people, a lot, I am somewhat of a loner at times too.
  81. < – that is the year I graduated from high school.
  82. I have been in 3 countries outside of the U.S.
  83. I’ve been in about 40 of the states in this country.
  84. There is SO much to see right here in the land I love that I would be happy just traveling around seeing it all here!
  85. I LOVE light houses.  My favorite is the one in Cape Hatteras.
  86. I believe that the beach is God’s therapy couch for us, and the sounds of the waves hitting the shore are the most soothing of stress.
  87. In 54 days  I will be 49 years old.  This bugs me way the hell more than turning 50 will.
  88. Every once in a while I enjoy reading a really trashy romance novel.
  89. I struggle with my weight, goes with being a Taurus…we love food.
  90. It’s important to me to be able to achieve my goals and be financially independent.  It isn’t that  I don’t want to be loved and cared for, but I never want to NEED a man to support me.
  91. No man ever keeps me.  They gain my heart, then suck my love dry  and leave me.
  92. I still believe in true love, the forever kind of love.  Just not sure it is meant for me.  Once  the infatuation wears off, they don’t really love me after all.
  93. My dream table would have at least 12 settings of china, each one different from the next.  Each a complete place setting, but no two alike.
  94. I’m working on my bucket list.  Not that I plan to die soon, I want to live to be 100, but time IS going forward.
  95. I enjoy all genres of music…the mood I am in or  I want  to be in, or the atmosphere I wish to create dictates what I am listening too.
  96. I hate plucking my eyebrows, it makes my eyes water like crazy, so I just shave them, CAREFULLY.
  97. Over the past 2 years I’ve learned that happiness is the journey, and a decision, not a destination.  No wonder I’m happy.
  98. I love my family something fierce.  I will protect them even if I don’t agree with their choices.
  99. Sometimes I sleep with music on softly on one of the music channels (Sound Scapes), it helps me unwind if I’m stressed out.
  100. This has not even put a scratch in the surface of who I  am….

On Your Mark, Get Set….Naaaa…

Coming out of the ‘crazy time’, per the book I was reading and have referenced in previous blogs, I thought perhaps I was finally ready to try out relationships again.  By that I mean relationships now that I’ve gotten past the rebound, and the nice-guy-darn-he-is-married, and last but not least, to borrow the Super Hero’s term, the bat-shit crazy (ie: The Count) guy.  Having gone through my various stages of grief of my marriage, the wacked out crazy time stuff, and the relationships mentioned, I thought MAYBE I was ready to find Mr. Right.

I was Miss WRONG!

It isn’t that I don’t want to be special to someone, or have someone special in my life.  But I’m not craving that either.  It certainly sounds nice and all, but….

Getting hurt does not concern me, pain is a part of life.  You cannot love and expect to go without being hurt.  I’ve had my heart broken plenty of times, some just cracks, and obviously the ex husband completely shattered it.  But I am healed and I know that it is likely that it will be broken again.  That doesn’t ‘scare’ me.  What I am fearful of is hurting someone else.  I do not ever want to cause that kind of pain to another human being.  I hurt just to breathe when my marriage ended.  Thinking hurt, being asleep hurt, being awake hurt.  I was half out of my mind in pain I never imagined was possible.  It was like a death, I went through the various stages…but this is worse. It is far worse to see him with someone else when he was the center of my world.  I will never stop loving him.  No, it is not the same by any stretch, but it is still more painful than I could ever have imagined.  When I said “I do” I meant for life, forever, and nothing  could have prepared me for the raw pain of being rejected by him.  Yes, I did indeed dance on the edge of insanity.  I see that now.  I stopped crying long ago, and can now, because I do love him, really FEEL happy for him that he has found someone to make him happy.  But knowing what that did to me makes it hard for me to imagine allowing myself to ever love or be loved like that.  I cannot begin to fathom hurting another person that way.

Superhero, Mr. Wonderful, and The Count all were a huge part of the healing process that I now can see as I look back.  But they were not my forever love.  The first two, once they moved through their own crazy times, well I’d not turn them down, The Count is the only one I know for sure is a no-way-in-hell potential.  He is potential hell on this earth, and a totally dodged bullet that I was too stupid and blind to see, but the other two, well the timing was just all wrong.  Who knows what another place in time might have been?  I remain friends with them both and would have their back without a second thought.

But back to the topic at hand…I thought I was ready to go forward. Even had a potential, let’s see where it goes and just let it unfold type relationship.  But I cannot bring myself to go there.

I want to stand completely on my own. Be my own person, financially, mentally and emotionally independent.  I want to make all of my own decisions, come and go as I please, answer to no one but myself.  I want to pursue my faith and get back where I belong there, I want to go places, see things, do things that I want to do.   I don’t want to worry if it is going to upset someone else if I jump on the back of Mr. Wonderful’s bike and we head out for a few hours to let the stress blow off.  Or have to cover if I chose to go spend the night sleeping next to someone that makes me feel safe and secure, who holds me and touches me like I’m special to them.  I don’t want anyone to even ask where I was, or who I was with, or where I am going or why.

I don’t want to hide from love or run from it, I don’t want to look for it.  I don’t want to be IN it.

I just, for once in  my life, want to be ME.  No more  (fill in the blank) and Marti.  I just want to be MARTI.  Marvelous, crazy, quirky, fun, happy 99.9% of the time, maybe once in a blue moon sad, sometimes a few pounds over  my ideal weight, sometimes a few more than that but never with anyone’s critique, spontaneous, predictable, perfectly imperfect ME.  The only engine running on this race track, the only act in this circus, being MINE.  No risking anyone’s heart including my own.  Just LIVING.

Let Me Fly Free!

Ever have one of those days when you just SO want to pick up your bowl of corn flakes and throw it at the wall, milk, spoon and all? Yeah, well today is that day for me.  Only I’d not stop at the bowl of cereal, it would be closely followed by the whole box, gallon jug of milk, the fresh pineapple, cup of coffee, container of baby puffs and the sippy cup that happen to be on the table as well.  I stopped throwing things years ago, so that won’t happen, but I still feel like it.

I am very different, don't look down your nose at me. I am unique, you are ordinary!

I am likely one of the most misunderstood people I know.  What you see is what you get, make no mistake about that.  The thick, sassy bitch exterior is very much part of who I am.  But it is there as outer armor, protecting the rest of me.  When you go through life so different (I was the kid in grade school that wore purple, high top  tennis shoes with my blue, white and gray uniform skirt and white blouse and socks) you need to build up a very strong shell.   That bitchy side of me comes out in my writings but so does my vulnerable, soft side.  That is what happens when one writes from their heart, you get to see a lot more of them, and it isn’t all pretty.

When I began my blogging adventure years ago on Myspace, I promised myself I would never censor what I write, and I don’t.  This doesn’t always sit well with people who read my posts, especially if they or something/someone they feel strongly about is the subject of the moment.  (here comes the bitchy side) Tough shit. Don’t like it? Don’t read it.  You change the channel on your television if you don’t like what is on, get off my blog page if you don’t care for it.  Very simple.

Now I admit that there are days I free flow on my writing, and then save it away for later and come back to edit.  But mostly that is to edit for spelling, and to be sure that the tone I am thinking in is coming across in my writing.  I do sometimes see where I have been unreasonably harsh and will curb that to some degree.  But one thing I will always do is be honest with my writing. I am true to myself.  When I share my thoughts and experiences or feelings, they are MINE, from MY perspective.  Simply because your perspective and feelings do not match my own does not mean I am wrong, or for that matter you are, it only means our experiences with that subject matter are DIFFERENT.  So deal with it.  Our mistakes are our own.  And our emotions and thoughts are as well.  I for one have no issue taking ownership of my thoughts, experiences, emotions or mistakes.  My life is all about ME.

I refuse to be conformed to anyone else’s standards of what I should be.   I am my own person, unique, quirky, completely special.  I hear the beat of an eccentric drummer compared to most of society.  I don’t go with the flow simply to make life easier for anyone else, I tend to swim against the current and take the unpopular path.  It can make me hard to read, understand or deal with, and frankly I don’t mind that.  I’m far from predictable.  Just when folks think they know exactly what I will do, how I will react, I change the direction.  So just because you think you know me, don’t hold your breath, the rug is likely about to be yanked right out from under you.  At least I am never boring!  🙂

For 23 years I was in a cage, mostly of my own making.  I tried hard to conform to what my husband thought I should be.  Whatever it was about me that he found unacceptable I tried hard to hide and cover up, lock inside myself under layers.  He fell in love with me, then tried to tweak me to his specifications, like he had ordered a car and got to chose the options with which it came equipped.   When we separated I looked in the mirror and no longer recognized the woman looking back at me.  Those that were closest to me all my life said I had lost the sparkle in my eyes, the mischief and joy, the real me.  They were privy to watching the layers get peeled back and the true me slowly re-emerging.  I was like a caged bird set free.

The trouble with caging something wild, is that there tend to be those moments when they seem to turn on you.  Keep this bird’s wings clipped and in a cage, she will periodically throw herself against the bars in frustration and anger.  I am way too free-spirited to be held down for long without putting up a fight now and then.  In the past I would calm down and submit to being in the cage, but I didn’t sing, I had no real joy, just a form of contentment that was temporary until the aggravation rose again.

Late yesterday, I posted an entry for my Dating Diaries section, the subject matter was a recent brief, but intense relationship.   I was reminded of a promise I had made that resulted in the blog post being removed.  I don’t recall making said promise, cannot imagine that I would have allowed myself to be put back into that damn cage.  But that is what happens when a particular dance is so familiar you can perform it out of habit rather than thought.  Either way, I had allowed myself to be stuck back in a cage.  I am a person of my word, and therefore once it was brought to my attention, and I threw myself against the cage bars, I removed the post.   But I am flaming f*cking pissed off right now, mostly at myself. I am mad at myself for having let the wings be clipped in the first place.  I agreed to something, it seems, that went against my desire to live for ME, by MY standards and no one else’s.  I agreed to something to please someone else, make myself more desirable to them, that went against my own nature.  I let myself be put back in a cage.  Never again.

Want to date me, get to know me, build and share a sanctuary in this life with me? Super!  But don’t try to clip my wings or close me in a cage.  I am NOT going back in there ever again.  I am not a car, you don’t get to pick and chose the options from a menu to build the woman you want.  You want me as I am or you can take a hike.  Somewhere out there is a man strong enough to tame this wild bird and not crush my spirit, and I will find him.  And when I do I will spread my wings in his world and fill his life with love, song and joy.

Kindred Spirits & Road Therapy…

One of the best ways I have ever found to clear out the head and heart is to get on the back of a motorcycle, wrap around some strong shoulders, and let the wind blow through my hair, feel the sun on my skin.  I always enjoyed riding with my ex, one of the few men I trusted on a bike.  We didn’t have to say a word to each other, just enjoyed conquering the miles.  I missed that time when we divorced, a lot.

Last year toward the end of summer I reconnected with an old friend.  Probably should use the term friend loosely, as the first time we met he mostly drifted across my path but I kept him at arm’s length.  I had felt a very strange pull toward him that I couldn’t explain but being married I knew that whatever it was had to stay untouched.  After the divorce I got in touch with him after seeing someone pass me on a bike that reminded me a lot of the one I dubbed Mr. Wonderful.

We took several long rides, no destination we just got on the bike and rode til whatever was eating at either of us was out of our system.  Sometimes we talked at length, other times rode in silence just enjoying being together and rolling.  Feelings developed but in hind sight I have a greater understanding of the love between us.

Like me, he is one of those transitional people, an encourager/healer type.  Meant to  drift in, bandage the wounded, help them heal, then drift out of their lives, leaving a part of his heart.  His scars also go clear back to childhood, and his outer shell is thicker than my own, but then he is several years older than me so he has fought a few more battles.

I think the fact that we are kindred spirits in this world is what drew us together.  The encouragers and healers of the world don’t have anyone here to do for us what we do for others.  But we can draw from each others strength, shore up each others foundations when they start to crack and dry each others tears.  Lord knows  I dried many of his during that time, though he never did mine.  I didn’t cry.  I couldn’t cry.  Nothing was getting deep enough, my heart was well shielded behind some thick armor to block out all pain and anything or anyone that even looked like they might bring more hurt.  We crossed lines we shouldn’t have, but I have zero regrets.  I have never connected with anyone the way I did with him.  He is the first person that ever took the time to look into my eyes clear to my soul.  He saw things in me no one else ever has, and he understood them.  He didn’t try to change me, just studied who I was and learned all he could about the person inside that no one else ever took the time to know.  He knows me darkest fears, my greatest joys, things even the man I was married too for 22 years never took time to know.  He was the first person to notice that my eyes change colors, from their normal shade of grey to deep blue depending on my mood, or what I am feeling at the moment. Maybe because he was the first person to ever really look in my eyes, and he always made me look back into his when we talked, he wanted to see inside.

We can never have a lovers type relationship, never live together, or grow old together.  Fate again, the bitch, doesn’t allow the timing that would put us together that way.  But out of those months a friendship and understanding has forged.  One that allows either of us to call the other when the world is falling apart around us and we just need someone to hold us, rub our head, dry our tears, and listen to us vent or sometimes just hold each other in total silence.  He listened to me pour my heart out the other day, my anger, my frustrations, and my heart break from falling in love again only to have my heart shredded all over as yet again I was the transitional girl.  This time I have cried, a lot.  I hadn’t cried in over a year, but I got careless and let down my guard and someone got through the armor and I’m hurting.  A pain I had not felt in so long I forgot to watch out for it.   And he seemed to know exactly what I need to push through the pain toward healing.

He is coming to get me, and treat me with some road therapy.  Today we have a destination, and we’ll log over 180 miles on the bike before we finish.  We’ll ride the back roads to Madison, Indiana, and spend the day laughing, sharing, talking,  and for the first time he’ll be the one holding me while I cry, and drying my tears.  And when he drops me off tonight at home, the hurt will be there still, but I’ll feel better, wrapped in the healing love of a very special friendship that I’ll be eternally thankful to have.

Yawn, Hurl, Yuck…

I am EXHAUSTED.  And sick.  Some how I managed to contract the cold or whatever from hell and lose my voice.  My head is stuffed up, I am lucky to get out enough voice to even be heard, and last night had the pukey stuff to go with it.  This so is NOT what I wanted to be doing.  I wore out completely what little voice I did have by the time I finished work yesterday.  Just after crawling in bed and drifting off to sleep last night I was suddenly wide awake and very very sick.  Without much  detail it is suffice to say that  I never made it out of my room, and owe my sister big time.  I was completely unable to sleep all night between the sour stomach, mega night sweats and not being able to breathe.  I stayed home from work today and slept as much as possible.

The cats seemed to pick up on the fact that I was not well, as they all came and checked on me several times.  Noel was in bright and early this morning and groomed my hair line on my forehead.  That is a big hairy deal as she is anti-social.  Guess they were worried that the food wench (I am the one that typically feeds them both times in the day) might be on her death bed.

Ditzy napping with me

My cat slept at my feet quite often.  Then later, during an afternoon snooze,  little Ditzy kitten came and  napped with me.  She is such a doll.  While the other two will check on you, Ditzy is a cuddler and she wanted to snuggle in for her sick watch over me.  She purred for close to 20 minutes, even as she drifted to sleep, which was flat out adorable.

Hot Sweats & Night Flashes

This getting older stuff and creeping through early menopause is for the freaking birds.  I have about had it with the whole deal and I’m only 47 and this has a LONG way to go.

My mood swings are controlled thanks to the meds I am taking and those are supposed to be assisting with the hot flashes.  If this is what they are like with assistance, holy heffer what would they be like without???  Better living through chemistry I suppose.

The worst part is at night…like last night.  As if it is not bad enough that I’m awake every 55 minutes thanks to the decongestant I am taking, I keep having night sweats!  The day time hot flashes are bad enough but this night time stuff has to end.  I feel like a malfunctioning Easy Bake Oven!  Just stick a cake mix in my arm pit and in 5 minutes you can have freshly baked cupcakes.

Combining this with the cold medication made for some wicked weird dreams last night.  Keebler Elves take me captive and force me to consume cremated remains in my fudge stripe cookies and protein shakes.  Seriously, I have to watch what I read before I go to bed until this cold/allergy attack from hell moves on.  My son had a post on his Facebook status that read:  Would you add a cremated dead guy to your protein shake for $1,000,000?? (Dead serious). At first I thought GROSS, not a chance.  Then I actually started to figure how much is really left of the body after it is cremated and….YUCK what is wrong with me?  Evidently there are a whole lot of desperately broke folks on his friends list because it spawned a lengthy series of comments most in favor of it, like me, but wanting to know how MUCH of said dead and over baked corpse had to be consumed in the shake.  Where the fudge stripe cookies came in from is beyond me.  Perhaps it was the cookie dough ice cream I passed on when I got home, or the Snickers peanut butter candy bars I also bypassed in the kitchen despite craving chocolate and other assorted junk food last night.  When I woke up in a fog I muttered out loud that I had about had it with the hot sweats and night flashes.  Yeah, it’s the drugs.

Anyway I cannot seem to find a happy medium in body temperature.  I’m either freezing to death or over heating.  I’m sitting here writing this with the window open next to me and it is 30 degrees outside.  Which is a heat wave compared to the single digits and negative wind chill temps a few days ago, but really???  We gals get to have ALL the fun in life.

~*~

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