And another year passes

It was once said that it takes a long time to grow young.  Brian turned 10 this week.  I love his birthdays, they are such fun.  It also marks the beginning of the nice weather for this area.  As I do every year, I allow him to skip school and we go on a day trip.  Friday ended with his choice of the beach.  He chose Schoolhouse Beach, which I thought rather ironic.

For anyone that might not be from this area Schoolhouse Beach is north of Bodega and one of the deadliest beaches for drowning.  Brian believes it is called Schoolhouse beach because the never-ending crescendo of crashing waves are as loud as a bunch of kids in a schoolhouse. 

We were the only two on the entire beach and sat leaning back against a large piece of driftwood.  Boonie ran the length of the beach barking at the crashing waves as if warning us of their deadly charms.  We sat far enough away and buried Brian in sand and dug for hidden treasures.  I have been taking Brian to the beach for his birthday every year since he turned 3. 

It was a rare spring day on the coast, warm and not a cloud in the sky.  We could see west across the dancing ocean for miles and miles.  It restores my soul.  With each sound of the waves slapping against the shore, retreating and crashing again it is as if my troubles are beat down and pulled out, then washed out to sea.  Brian is as addicted as I am to water, and the beach.  It was a lovely day.

It was a good week this week for it being the end of the month with loans, and me pmsing.  A fatal combination if you understand the loan business. No one got hurt.  I was able to help a friend with a personal loan and it went well, which was fun.  It made for an "up" ladies night.

But as a side note why can't I type when I am pmsing?  What sort of left brain hormonal thing happens that makes it impossible to use a keyboasrd when pmsing?  Ok, I am better now...I just had to get that out.

Wednesday night found us back at the Mixx for their wine and food paring.  This time Stephanie brought more friends, and so did I.  There is nothing more fun than a group of smart, attractive hard working women getting together to tell stories, talk sex, and admire each other's shoes.  What always impresses me is the number of us that are single mothers.  No offense men, but it makes me think there is a whole lot of stupid men out there that let any one of us get away.

Wednesday nights, these times with friends, are like a safe haven, a place that offers cover from life's ever changing unpredictable weather. We check in, reassure each other and with gentle pats on the back, send one another back out into the world.  We serve as a reminder not to get lazy and settle for less than our dreams.  Sometimes, it is all too easy to begin to believe that your dreams are never going to come true.  It helps to have a network of friends that just won't allow you to think this way.

Wednesday night there was Stephanie, a single mom of 10 years who has one daughter in college and a son graduating in June.  She is petite and blond, an athlete, who looks like something straight from Vogue magazine.  There isn't a pretentious bone in her, kind and giving.  She has done a great job with her kids and her life.  Just don't cross her, cause when she wrinkles up her nose and shakes that long hair she is about to let you know this scene just ain't workin.  She was beautifully dressed for Palm Springs - don't ask.  We all adore Miss Stephanie and are envious of her Palm Spring wardrobe.

With Stephanie was Janice, a tall, tall (did I mention tall?) dark exotic woman who looks like she just walked off a Paris runway.  Janice is also a single mother of a teenage boy, who is the love of her life.  Janice is the type of woman that when she walks in a room, the party starts.  She commands respect and can get anyone working in a restaurant to do anything for her.  I imagine that pretty much happens whereever she is.  She had on these killer CFM red boots, but to know Janice they are more like "Don't mess with me" (DMWM) boots.  Now if Janice raises her right finger to the air and start waving it, you had better hope it isn't at you. She makes me laugh my a** off.

With Janice was Rebecca, who is a loan officer who looks a bit like Salma Hayek and another sweet friend who's husband was kind enough to leave her behind to play with the girls.  What a nice guy.  She should clone him.  I liked them - very nice people.  Also included is Donailla, who I have had the pleasure of seeing again after probably 25 years.  She was a year younger than me in school, and recognized me first before I had a chance to place her.  She looks like she is still in her 20's, high cheek bones and a great smile.  I was flattered that she remembers me, and I am enjoying getting to know her.  We would have been trouble together in high school...ok...well...I would have gotten her into trouble...happy?

With me, Heidi was in tow (of course - no big shock there) and Teresa finally came out to play.  All businesswomen, and we get along so well.  I think businesswomen often have to cut through so much crap during the day that by the end they want to be around friends who understand that dance.  So much of our authentic selves are often set-aside at work to "get the job done", that it is a relief to check back in and let our hair down occasionally. 

Brian turned 10 on Thursday and chose a home dinner verses dinner out together.  I love his birthdays more than mine.  I adore surprising him with hidden cards and notes in his lunch.  His birthdays and kid's holidays bring out the best in me.

When he was 3, and our first Christmas after the separation, I was struggling financially to pay for everything about the divorce and was concerned that I wouldn't be able to create much of a Christmas.  I really wasn't thinking that kids do not remember much from 3-year-old age events.  So there I was fretting and fretting and I started to clean and reorganize my closet.  In one box there remained left over unused green balloons from our wedding...a big bag. I set them aside.

That Christmas Eve after putting Brian to bed I sat up in the rocker rocking and blowing up balloon after balloon.  I filled the living room floor up to knee height with green balloons.  I had strung Christmas lights across the inside of the house (don't ask) so when you turned them on, with the hunter green balloons and the decorated tree, it created this magical effect as if Santa had really set up one hell of a party.

Christmas morning, when Brian awoke to those balloons he squealed with delight.  The balloons were almost as high as him and he was more interested in the balloons than the gifts.  He rolled on the floor, leaped in the air, batted them, and kicked them all while laughing until he ran out of breath. That experience taught me a lot about Christmas spirit and how much children see magic in the little things. As adults we tend to focus excessively on the big things...

Saturday was the official birthday party for Brian and my x husband agreed to host the party for the very first time.  (Are you getting the feeling that this is the never-ending birthday party?)  I had the pleasure of playing "Disneyland Mom" for my first time.  Whewwwwww hewwwww!!  You can bet those little goodie bags for the boys were filled with candy.  It was a nice time.  I am proud of Brian in his choice of friends.  They are terrific young men.  One followed me around and helped me - he was so cute.  It was a nice time for Brian and I was able to run out the door before the sleepover began.  I laughed all the way home dreaming of how late they would be up while I sleep soundly in my comfy bed. 

Sunday Kimberly and I did our usual garden shopping.  Kimberly has this big cool truck that places the passengers up so high you feel like you are sitting on a hill.  A perch all princess love to view the world from.  All weekedn (<---see the pms typing problem thing) from our homes we could hear the sounds of the monster truck engines at the fairgrounds, so of course, Kimberly MUST drive by on our way to Yardbirds to check it out.  She is thekind of redhead that just drives where ever she wants.  She pulls right up along side the arena on the street side where there is clearly posted "NO PARKING ANY TIME" signs.  She jumps out, climbs in the bed and stands tall yelling "Get out woman come on and see this!"  Well, you all know me, if I haven't seen it, or experienced it, I am going to investigate it.  Up on back I go, not quite as gingerly as her, since she is 14 years my junior....little b****.

There, before my eyes were the biggest damn tires on trucks I have ever seen, and I have been on some construction sites and seen some pretty big tires in my day....but nothing prepared me for this leap-frog-big-tire thing before me.  Good lord, in America we will invent a sport for anything. AND talk about a male dominated, testosterone smellin, electricity driven sport here!  Throw in the thrill of a crash and it is an absolute male love fest.  I was definately enjoying the view....and thinking nasty thoughts.  Who would have thought all that maleness would turn me on...?!?!?...well ok...shut up...I know...I am a redhead. 

Men were everywhere, and guys do like women in trucks...especially redheads.  Must be a redneck thing. Anyways, these monster trucks drive over a bunch of smashed up cars and go airborne while women scream.  I can see why men like this.  I can now say that I saw the Grave Digger, which unbeknownst to me is the monster of all monster trucks and has been around 20 years.  Holy tall trucks!  It scares me that I now know this little factoid.  But I have to admit it was fun, and the male dominated scenery was oh oh oh ohhhhhh most enjoyable.

I was glad we were parked illegally.  Kimberly made a wise parking choice, because these trucks like to spin and send dirt flying in large clumps (uh...like falling golfballs) into the crowd.  Yes, people pay for the plasure of having dirt thrown at them from the wheels of trucks!  And men give me a hard time for wanting to be taken out to dinner so I don't have to clean my kitchen?  If you will pay good money to watch trucks leap cars andthrow dirt, you can pay good money to have a waiter say "Hello, what can I get you this evening?" for me - thank you very much!  However, with all the mudd throwing that sport projects...  I wouldn't recommend it guys on a first date...and well...I'd rather have dinner and a long drive in a car with leather seats than leap frog monster truck events...  Ok, call me a princess...oh wait...you already do.  Just bite me.

Oh and surprisingly enough, Oscar and I spoke on the phone twice this weekend.  I do like him when he is being his charming self...he has the best phone voice...oh oh...

It is, however, a bit odd that we live in the same town...um ....less than 5 minutes from eachother to be exact ...and our idea of dating is laying in our own beds (seperately) laughing and talking on the phone.  Jaysus do we both have commitment issues here or friggin what??? 

I have to get some mom things done, and you all know I'll write more later.  Make sure to have a redheaded kind of a week...xox

C

Oh yes, and my imaginary lover is charming, and protects me from flying dirt.

Glass half full or half...

Leonard Louis Levinson once was quoted as stating that, "A pessimist sees only the dark side of the clouds, and mopes; a philosopher sees both sides, and shrugs; an optimist doesn't see the clouds at all - he's walking on them". 

I am often surprised by the way people view their own lives.  If we could just have the benefit of stepping outside oursleves and view our lives as a stranger.  I wonder what glory we would see that we don't when, "in the picture".

This week I listened as people picked their lives apart.  People are always telling me how difficult single motherhood is, but for some reason I just don't hear them. When I first moved to this tiny place Brian and I now call home I was determined to create a magical place, a sanctuary from the outside world.  We used to love to read, "A Secret Garden" and I wanted to somehow create that same magic here in our little home. 

After my divorce it seemed we were starting with less than zero.  All I had was my love of Brian, some fun ideas and my love of music.  There was no cable television, no couch - I had given up many things.  I was determined to start a new and create a different life.  In the empty spaces that occupied these new walls, I began to paint and decorate while we listened to grand musical classics.

Inch by inch our new home began to take on a character and life of its own.  From the lush gardens that spring forth new life to our 'wall of wishes' that hang over the couch, each becoming a tribute to how far we have come.  Has it been easy?  I suppose not, but I really do love every minute.  I am free, free to create whatever future I can imagine and hold on to.  Have I been frightened?  Oh hell yeh, many many times, and we all know I have survived some horiffic experiences. 

But in these years I have had so much magic too.  Everyday I can always find something to laugh at, or be grateful for.  Even those situationsthat  I don't much like...oh lordy don't get me started (*wink*).  This is why it is difficult for me to understand people who must always look for the bad in life...to always be upset about something...or mad at someone.  It is so tiring.  I can only get on my own pity train just long enough to find something to laugh at.  Life is so short and moves so fast.

I call the constant complaining the "Eyore syndrome" - you know - that sawdust stuffed donkey from Winnie The Pooh who is always depressed.  Except in its human adult form it as if nothing ever satisfies these people.  They have no clue what a downer they are.  They quite litterally suck the life out of the air.

After Mark, I dated Patrick in those first years of my divorce.  Patrick was freshly seperated from a 20 year marriage.  A local business owner, tall and good looking he had everything to look forward to.  However, every single day that I knew him he was spouting something negative about someone or something.  Someone was always out to get him.  His divorce and failed marriage was all his x wifes fault.  I think he must have driven her nuts with his constant bitching.  Once she recovered from the shock of the end of her marriage, I imagine her having a glorious wonderful new life without him.

He used to leave money on his dresser as a test to anyone in his house to see if they would touch it.  Imagine the energy wasted on counting that money every time someone was over?  He once said to me, "I am so impressed that you have never touched my money".  I laughed to myself as I thought, "I don't need you or your money".  That should have been a great big ole clue that this guy would never understand me...and ICK I could never live with such a man!!  Could you imagine?

When we fought, I loved the peaceful days spent not talking to him.  I didn't have to hear another story about what is wrong in his life on that particular day.  Or he long tirades over who had done him wrong or how crazy everyone else was.  There he was, a man in great health withthree fine kids (who were also healthy) and he just couldn't find a way to enjoy any of it. 

It was such a relief when he was gone from my life.  I returned absolutely every thing he had ever given me.  He couldn't understand why, but each time I looked at those things I thought of how little Patrick enjoyed life and how much I disliked being with him most of the time.  It was sressful and draining - not what I wanted out of life.   The things he gave me seemed to scream his negative sonnots around my place. I wanted them all gone.

It is interesting the things one will settle for when first divorced and trying to find our way.  I doubt I would recognise Patrick if I passed him on the street, and if I did would probably prefer he pretend not to know me.  If I met him for the first time today I would not go out with him.  Funny how much we change...THANK GOD we are not still together.  I would have missed out on so many wonderful experiences.

So here I was this week once again encountering people who were doing the "Eyore syndrome" - bitching and complaining.  Or "Chicken-boning" themsleves and their lives, as I like to also call it.  "Chicken-boning" is when one eats a piece of chicken to the bone and continues to pick at it.  It makes me glad that I don't have to live with someone who is always seeing the sky as falling...or chicken-boning everything.  Brian and I have the ability to chear eachother and look towards the sun.  I don't want us to be around an Eyore on a regular basis.

As many of you know this is not an easy time for me, and yet I see the hope and possibilities and refuse to give up on my dreams.  Every day brings with it the promise for a new life.  Sometimes you just walk around a corner and suddenly everything changes.  I refuse to settle for mediocraty.  Just as my gardens spring forth new life, the seeds I am planting for my life will bring forth new magic in the years to come...just as long as I don't give up.  Especially on those days where that cat has thrown up on Brian's backpack andhe's stepped in dog crap outside on the way to the car...in his brand new shoes...

My dear friends, you just will not let me give up.  This week girls night reminded me ofthe parts of this town that I do still love.  We had such a good time.  Kimberly drug me outdoors all last weekend from one gardening center to another,  Brian's garden is so incredible and he giggles every time he looks at it.  I know these memories we are creating here will last him a lifetime.  There is a peace that washes over me each time I hear that infectous giggle of his.

Next week Brian turns 10.  Can you believe he is 10 already?  Where does the time go?  He is such a little man.  His father went on his school hiking field trip this week.  Brian was so excited that he got up that morning at 6 am.  I can't get him out of bed at 7 on a regular school day!!  But there his was - his face leaning over my face saying "MOM! Get up!" .  I thought aliens had kidnapped my son and replaced him with this new kid.  He even made his bed...I almost fainted.  I think something shifted in the Matrix...

SO my friends, thank you for your love and support and for always helping me keep my eyes towards the sun...I love you all.

Until next time...may your real life lovers live up to your imagination...

C

Spring is in the air

What a week.  I am exhausted, so I am not exactly sure how far I will go with tonight's story.  I may have to pick it up and continue over the weekend.

Have you ever noticed how a week can begin on an intensity like an incoming hailstorm and end like the soft whisper of a butterfly?  I am always awed by times in my life that are both great and terrible at the same time.  As one part becomes harsher, another becomes equally exquisite. 

I spent the better part of the week dealing with attorneys.  But I don't really want to focus on that.  We started the week discussing imaginary lovers, and never quite finished the exchange.  I may do my attorney rant another day...I'll see if I am in that kind of a feisty mood.  Until then, I'll forget about them. You can all breathe a sigh of relief.

Spring is in the air.  I know this because this week a few of my male friends checked in with me.  They needed some Catherine torture sessions.

Keith called from Grass Valley.  He never gives up hope that somehow this redheaded pain in the a** lady he adores has changed,  He calls just to check in an confirm that I am still (to him) the same.  Heidi coined the phrase, "What goes on in Grass Valley stays in Grass Valley".  It just so happens Grass Valley is part of her work territory - I really don't think it's kharma, no matter how much Elisabet wishes it so.

I can't ever stay too mad at Keith for very long.  Every time he has come to visit and spoil me he always asks for my "Honey do" list and goes about fixing everything on that list.  One might think this to be the ideal relationship, except we fight like crazy.  Keith has the ability to get on my last nerve and midway through our wonderful time together we are in eachother's face over some minor detail.  I hate fighting and I hate the way we fight, so what lives in Grass Valley definately needs to stay in Grass Valley.

I think Keith is just fine with that too.

Then Peter called, who we all love to still refer to as "San Jose man" because I went a year not remembering his first name.  But like that faithful lab retriever, he always checks on me.  He is only 22, but wise about understanding that people should be checked in on.  I remain his 'touchstone' and listen intently as he tells me of his dreams for his future.  He has done so much with his life.  He has his pilots license and just passed his real estate exam.  He also has his MCSE and is a Network Administrator.  I am impressed by someone at such a young age going for it in every part of their life.  He is going to do great things.  He is a kind man and very driven, I just wish he was older and lived a little closer.  I would love to have him as my work out coach.  Plus, he handles me just fine. Hell, that makes him a friggin Saint.

The thing I like about both these men is that fact that I do not intimidate them.  And, they both make me laugh.  

My brother called this week too.  He sounds like a young man again.  It reminded me of our college years when we hung out together.  God we had fun.  He had the cutest friends.  He did introduce me to my first love, Rich, after trying to get me to meet Rich for a year.  We were togther most of my 20's.  I think my brother is still quite proud of that 'set up'.  Rich was a nice guy....but not my soul mate.  All the wishing and dreaming just could not make it so. 

Ryan also called. He is the most upbeat man that I have ever met.  His phone calls are like a ray of brilliant sunshine that burst through the phone into my soul.  The minute I hear his voice and that familiar "Hey Cath!" jingle I always smile.  His exuberence for life and how precious each moment is refreshes my spirit.  He always makes me laugh out loud so hard that I feel it in my toes.  He has never said one mean thing to me - ever.  He has never once hurt my feelings.  What a speacial person he is.  He likes my wild side.  He knows that part of me will never be tamed.  Smart man.

Bill Instant Messaged me this week to see how I am doing too.  That was nice.  He typed an "I love you'.  Sweet thoughts from a very stubborn man.

I had one of those two hour middle of the night phone calls with Osc.  Every time I talk with him I realize how much he just doesn't understand me at all.  Our conversations are funny, witty and move like a tango until he begins to overthink the fact that we connect well together.  But. what woman would want to hang around a man that just doesn't get her...no matter how much he makes her laugh?  Not to mention the fact that this particular man will never be "the one". Yet, he ironically worries that somehow we will end up togther.  I don't think he has stared long and hard enough at my wall of dreams to see that he is not pictured there.  I find it odd that a man would think that I might think so little of myself that I would set aside my dreams for so little.  Even more important, that a man would think that my life lacks  the beauty, depth, honor, wonder and magic that we know I create, to show any interest in such a bullsh** offer. I'd rather paint my toe nails.

Meanwhile my garden is coming together beautifully.  It is amazing what a redhead can create with all the pent up sexual tension. 

Oh, and my imaginary lover is also good with his hands...

Until next time...

C 

 

 

Imaginary Lovers...

Well my friends it is Friday once again.  I think we survived that whole Spring Forward time thing.  Isn’t it just as fun as a root canal to get kids to adjust to an hour earlier bedtime?   I do like coming home while it is still light…. it leaves me with more time on my hands to get into trouble.  This is just what the redhead needs…. more trouble.

 

I don’t feel a mole anymore…although my skin is pale enough these days…  sit down…this rant is a long one.

 

This week started with a trip to Heidi’s house.  Heidi, I hope it is ok to use your real name.  If not, we can call you something else…Hilda? 

 

Saturday night, Brian is with his dad and my left rear brake light is out.  Now if you don’t know Heidi, she is one of my x bosses.  Somehow I always end up with x bosses as best friends.  I think it is because we end up traveling and hanging outside of work together.  By the time I leave their employ I have so much dirt on them that they must stay friends with me for life. Heidi is this petite thing with bodacious sized ta tas, who walks shoulders back - face to the air.  She's an x Jersey girl - need I say more?  She is a blond German who also spent time living in Florida, before running away to the wine country.  (I do really like to think that everyone moves here looking for someone like me).  She figured it would be cheaper (and safer) to live right next door to the wine she drinks.  After becoming her friend, I would give a resounding "Yes" to that.

 

I love Heidi's solutions to life's problems, "Come over, have snack, drink wine and we'll fix your light together."  As most of you know, that lethal combination\invitation is always a recipe for hilarity.  What will I wear?

 

Since I was still in my same sweat clothes and hand my hair in a pony tail, I knew I wasn't going to go do my usual Saturday-night-sit-in-the-sexual-book-section-of-Borders reading about the latest heavy breathing exercises which involve some sort of vegetable.  Yes, I did say vegetable.  So off I go to Heidi's playhouse.

 

I arrive, and Heidi opens the door in her version of sweats, which I might add are entirely different than my version of sweats.  My version of sweats looks morelike I played tackle football in white bleach, however I do have on REAL running shoes (not that I run these days).  Her idea is Capri looking cute sweat pant things with a little top and PINK slip on tennis shoes - pink! (I was so jealous).  There's a little band in her hair.  I just wanted to spill something on her and make her look more like me.

 

With a screwdriver in one hand and a cigarette in another (no wine yet - we need to focus) she leads me off the porch to the rear of my truck.  Within 2 minutes we have the rear light cover off and have pulled the blown bulb out.  If you ask why it took two of us to do this, it is the same reason why we go to bathrooms in pairs.  GET OVER IT!  At least we aren?t asking you!

 

Off we go in Heidi's little motorcar to the parts store, bulb in hand.  I feel this triumphant pride as I stand at the counter like I am achieving some high level male honor because I am a female doing this - a redhead to boot.  Heidi waits.  Now, the one thing that is funny about auto part stores is there just isn't much for a princess to window shop through while waiting.  I mean I am sorry guys, I know the sight of custom-fit and universal-fit items just makes your day, but for Heidi, and more importantly me, it just isn't a thrill.  Heidi does what all us women do when forced to wait in an auto store - she goes to look at air fresheners and steering wheel covers. 

 

I step up to the counter and hand over the bulb.   Quite proudly, I rattle off the year, make and model of my truck, because I have always heard guys hate it when we don't know that.  Yeh, like they know exactly how many kitchen plates they have.  I have 10 thank you.  The guy looks at the bulb, and looks at me kinda funny.  I expect him to open some book and look up a part number, then start skimming shelves in back for just the right part.  No, he walks from behind the counter, out into the store to a light bulb section, leans over, matches the bulb by sight and hands me a new bulb packet.   Ummmm I coulda done that...

 

I walk over to Heidi who is commenting on the type of man that would go with each air freshener.  You have the pine tree for that outdoor-I-like-to-camp kind of a guy.  You have the new car smell for the salesman type, who likes to pretend everything is newer than it is.  Or the religious one for either the recovering addict or he's driving his mom's car.  I started thinking that maybe I could have saved myself a lot of dating troubles if I had just looked at the men's car air fresheners.  It would have said so much about them.  Then, we started talking about my dream man and what his air freshener could be.  Ocean breeze scent?  First Class Round trip Hawaii scent?  Levi jeans, wind in hair, no shirt scent?  Oh the list is endless...

 

Only Heidi and I could spend 5 minutes in an auto store conjuring up the perfect kind of guy air freshener for me.  With fits of laughter, we leave the store.  Once in her car she hooks up her downloaded MP3 songs to her stereo and out comes Atlanta Rhythm Section's "Imaginary Lovers".  I have not heard this song in years.  How perfect.

 

Imaginary lovers

Never turn you down

When all the others turn you away

They're around

It's my private pleasure

Midnight fantasy

Someone to share my

Wildest dreams with me.

Imaginary lover you're mine anytime

Imaginary lovers.

 

Now I am thinking whoever wrote this is a friggin genius and just gets it on so many levels.  And, of course if you know me and Heidi we are just singing this as loud as we possibly can.  It's amazing how many other drivers will get out of our way when we are singing in the car.  I even car dance. 

 

When ordinary lovers

Don't feel what you feel...

And real-life situations lose their thrill,

Imagination's unreal

Imaginary lover, imaginary lover

You're mine anytime

 

You got that right baby.  So we drive to her house as the song ends on

 

Imaginary lovers never disagree

They always care

They're always there when

You need satisfaction guaranteed

Imaginary lover, imaginary lover

You're mine all the time

My imaginary lover,

You're mine anytime.

 

And I am thinking this is my new theme song.  Which moves Heidi and I from the perfect air freshener guy to my perfect imaginary guy.  (I am thinking one who would friggin take my truck and put the light in while I am drinking a glass of wine with my friend sounds perfect right now).  Heidi and I replace the light with great success, and since this was such hard work we really need to go in her house, sit down and drink wine.

 

As weeks go it was a fairly decent one.  The process server for the attorney representing some people who are suing one of my clients did finally serve me.  From what I hear I really pissed off this server as I lead such an erratic schedule, it took him a month to find me to serve me.   Just try dating me bub.   I am actually quite proud of this and had to grin when he caught up with me on Thursday.  I think this guy has a future in torturing small fury animals in some lab.  

 

Wednesday was girls night, except many of the girls flaked.  YES THIS MEANS YOU.  Cold weather drives many princesses indoors for the night.  Some find men to cuddle so they can be warm - not Heidi and I (she does have a husband by the way).  Off we go Wednesday night to picnic at Paradise Ridge Winery, where for a glass of wine, you can sit on their balcony and eat your own snacks.  All while staring out at the whole Sonoma Valley when the sun is setting.  It was spectacular!!  Cold, but spectacular. 

 

Once again the subject of me and men comes up.  This seems to be a running theme of hilarity between me and my girlfriends.  Heidi and I are talking about the men in my life, from my x bosses, to friends, to x lovers and all the funny stories having to do with them, when she blurts out, "Do each of them know they are not the only men you treat that way?"  I almost spit my olive out as I start to laugh.  "What way?"  I say through gasps of laughter.  She says "YOUR WAY  Your redheaded way."  I knew what she means and by this time the look on her face is making me laugh so hard that I snort.  This became the "do they know" theme for the evening.

 

We leave the winery and meander on down to the Equis bar to finish the sunset someplace warm.  It's got a business crowd and we sit at the bar.  I order my decaf coffee and she orders her wine.  We are just beginning to continue our conversation on why I like the idea of an imaginary man, when we hear this beautiful soft piano in the back.  How nice I think, until this voice starts singing, "Chances are, because I wear a silly grin..." Slowly Heidi and turn, lean back and gaze down to the end of the bar.  Yes folks - it's classical music Karaoke night.  I did not even know such a thing existed until this moment.  I turn to Heidi, who says in her most perfect Jersey accent, "What the fu**??" I had to put my hand over my mouth to stop the escaping laughter.   Ok...my imaginary man definitely does NOT sing classical karaoke in a 5 star restaurant bar.  We survive this theatrical rendition of Chances Are only to have it replaced by. "New York, New York".  Heidi, who is a true New York Broadway stage connoisseur says. "Oh no, we have to leave!" through her own laughter.  We drove home in fits of laughter wondering the types of songs my imaginary man might sing to me.  Some of might say, "Tainted Love".

 

I see Heidi again for a girl's nail session tonight where I am sure we will continue our topic of imaginary lovers.  Do you have one?  What is he or she like?  Better yet, wanna take a stab at commenting on mine?  Have at it.  Post me some comments here, or im or email me like you always do.  Hugs to you all.  I gotta run to that appointment.

 

Until next Friday...may all your redheaded thoughts be about me.

 

C

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

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April showers bring May flowers...

Yes, it is already Friday. The Pope is in the beginning of his next grand adventure. Do you think he will write? I was 18 when Pope John Paul II became il papa. Disco and Journey were still popular, and my own father died August of 1978.

I think it is kinda cool that the Pope will go out in the middle of March Maddness. Is that a sign for the NCAA?

This week my son got into his first real fight. He lost. The other boy is 12. He's got a nice shiner on his left cheek. When my x husband called me, told me and handed the phone to my son, I sucked wind. Nothing was broken, except some of his pride. He's 9 going on 10, so yes, that whole male-pride thing is beginning.

He was upset, but to my surprise fairly ok. This must be one of those great guy-club secrets. Because girlfriends, if some witch bruised my cheek when I was 9 I would have found a way to get even later - even if I was 65. I just think, as women, we don't roll the same in this arena.

I asked my son if he was scared when it came down. The boy had pushed him, and Brian pushed the boy to the ground. When the boy got up he came with a running punch to the face. It knocked Brian down. That must have come as one hell of a surprise!

Brian sighed, "NO! I was really mad. I don't like being shoved for no reason from a kid that's being mean." "Ok", I thought, "Neither do I." I realized at that moment Brian was somehow different. His voice sounded older.

Fast forward to today and he wears that bruise like some sort of badge of honor. In his head he is not the loser of the fight. He was brave. He even tried bossing me around today. Um I don't THINK so.

I dropped him off for a sleepover at my brother's girlfriend's housethis afternoon. Her sons are 10 and 14. It's a boy's house and I so like her. The boys ran up as we parked, glad to see Brian. As the three walked up the driveway they were inspecting the bruise and exchanging old fight stories and injuries. Brian had just become a member of the boys fight club.

I bet that fight story becomes like fishing stories...

Now don't get me wrong, I am not in favor of violence. It bothers me that he was punched in the face. I would much rather someone use their head over their fist - everytime. But, I also understand the law of nature. I understand this type of thing is a part of a boys' growing up. Chris reminded me of that, and I agree.

This week seemed to be about stages. The Pope moves on to his next stage. We move the clocks forward to the next stage of the year. Brian moved to the next stage of boyhood. And, I began a new stage of writing again.

Until next week...remember your favorite redhead...

C

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