HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Friday, December 30, 2005
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
RAIN RAIN...GO...
Roger Miller once said, “Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet”. This is the time when the rains come to Northern California. In a matter of days, the sky cries its tears and changes a drying landscape into Ireland in one full sweep of darkened clouds.
Creeks go from a soft trickle to raging rivers and the roadways flood. It is the Northern California equivalent to a monsoon. Some years it rains from Thanksgiving until April, and many of the homes along the Russian River float out to the Pacific Ocean. Trees fall, sink holes appear and the news stations run around hoping for some trapped idiot who decided to drive through a flooded street.
Skiers watch in anticipation as these rain storms that cross Northern California move on to the Sierras and dictate the snow pack. Building Contractors rejoice as more water enables more home building as kid’s dawn their goulashes and run paper boats down the streets. Sand bags appear at every corner and the adobe mud turns to this thick clumpy sticky taffy-like substance that clings to shoes like some x's cling to the possibility of reconciliation.
The ocean swells with high-energy waves, which force an undertow, and people not from here often are knocked out to sea. The ocean tides are as dangerous as the sharks underneath and the winds howl their secret song. Winter is officially upon us.
One year it rained for 45 days straight as I hoped a plane in Gail-force winds to travel to Houston, then on to Austin to train loan officers. The flights were so delayed that I missed my connecting flight to Austin and spent the night at the Houston Airport. The next morning I caught the first flight out, and on exiting the Austin airport I was struck by this strange sensation upon my face. It stopped me in my tracks. It was the warmth of the sun and I had forgotten what it felt like. I stopped, put down my bags, closed my eyes and turned my face to the sun - standing there frozen like a statue.
Taxi drivers are yelling for me as I put up a hand to stop their shouts and stood enjoying the warmth of the sun. I think I stood there for 5 minutes until I opened my eyes to a smiling cabbie. “You from some place cold?” he shouts. “San Francisco” I yell back. “Well get in honey I am half price for you today!”
KB married Scott three years ago on one of the rainiest days I have ever experienced. It was New Years Eve and they decided to marry at the San Francisco courthouse. The hour drive to the city took me two and a half hours, as the average speed on the freeway was 35 miles an hour. My wipers could not work hard enough to clear off the sheets of rain across my windshield. Several times I thought of stopping, but didn’t want to miss the wedding.
At one point I realized I did not have bridge toll and needed to stop at an ATM. I pulled off, found a deli with an ATM, and was back on the freeway in a matter of minutes. It seemed like God had opened the sky and was using a fire hose to pour water down on the freeway. Visibility was best in the far lane so I crossed three lanes to get there, and just as I did my windows completely fogged up. My father taught me not to panic when this happens and roll the windows down immediately. I couldn’t see my hands in front of my face and tried to remain calm as Brian was in the passenger seat. Instinct took over and the power windows came down clearing the fog. Just when the crisis passed I looked to my left (to push the window buttons) when this huge bucket size splash of water comes out of nowhere in through my window right on to me. It covered my mouth, the side of my face and my chest. I was now soaking wet.
I squealed when it hit me because it was so cold and such a shock. I am lucky I didn’t wreck the truck. Great, now I was on the way to a wedding with half my hair soaking wet and curly and the other half dry and straight. When I arrived at the hotel the check-in was in chaos as the water was coming down in sheets. I felt like I was never getting to the wedding. Check-in took forever, the cabbie we caught from the hotel didn’t know where the courthouse was (rain tends to soak peoples brains), and racing up the steps to the courthouse I passed part of the wedding party leaving. Yep…I had missed the wedding.
Once again the rains have returned.
I am suppose to go to Ebets for the New Year. Luckily, she is already married and the flooding came when she dropped that fish tankin her family room, so I should be pretty safe.
We hope...
Until next time-
C
Monday, December 26, 2005
RECOVERY DAY
I believe I am officially sleep walking through the day, but the Christmas tree is down (it was so dry - a spark from my temper could have set it ablaze). I dropped it off at the local tree-recycling center and should have all the needles removed from my carpet by some time in 2009. I can now move my writing chair back to the corner and return to creating stories once again.
I am looking forward to the New Year, as 2005 will go down in the books as one of the most difficult (I hate saying ‘worst’) years since my father’s death in 1978. At midnight Jan. 31st I plan to howl at the moon in rejoice for surviving it. I look forward to continuing the changes I set in place the last few months. We will have to judge where I am on March 31st, as it will mark a year writing this online diary. My how time flies…
Brian will turn 11 in 2006 and moves to 6th grade, the final year before “teenage years” begin. I feel this was our last “Santa” year and am sorry to see them fade away into memories. I love playing Brian’s Santa. Christmas is wonderful when experienced through a child’s eye. It makes me want to have another baby just to start the fun all over again. (Then I think of what the first year is like and slap myself back to reality).
It would be nice to spend Christmas in Ireland next year... but unless Brian’s dad is preoccupied with a girlfriend and her family, there is no way he will agree to spend Christmas without Brian. Ironic, since the man hates the holiday. BAH HUMBUG is is mantra...why he married me, (the Christmas nut) I will never know.
Time for this nut to go put the ornaments away.
Until next time-
C
Saturday, December 24, 2005
PURE JOY
It has been said that he who has no joy of Christmas in his heart will never find Christmas joy under a tree. This brings me to my one Christmas wish, which I shall whisper at midnight to the stars above.
My wish: Joy.
(Not the man, but the experience of joy).
Yes, I am happy and grateful for many things, but this is not the joy I am seeking. This coming year I wish for...
The joy of completing my children's book.
The joy of publishing it.
The joy of watching Brian's face when I buy the two-story house with his room above the garage.
The joy of reinventing my life.
The joy of new friendships, like Leah.
The joy of good times with dear friends like Ebet, KB, Stephanie and Teresa.
The joy of seeing my mother's face when she reads the book.
The joy of giving back to others as they have given to me.
Joy...joy filled days...a joy filled life.
Feeling it, giving it and living it. What a world it would be if everyone went about his or her lives creating joy.
Hmmmmm...then we would be in heaven.
Listen quietly at midnight, for you may hear my wish flash across the night sky.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
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THE WAY WE WERE
Old wrapping paper, aging ornaments and a drying tree are part of my Christmas tradition, along with...
x's who use this time to reconnect.
Over the hill and through the woods come notes on my front door...
emails galore... instant message downpour…
cards and more...
Maybe they are hoping to score...?
Proof I can run, but just can't hide.
C
Monday, December 19, 2005
WORK WORK WORK
Just as I get my little dream moving along (and Anne should read this) my x husband sells my abilities to this woman he knows who provides construction loans and financing for million dollar estate homes. One of her home construction developments is with Build Max who's pre-constructed homes are seen on Extreme Makeover.
She is a older dynamo of a lady who I met with this morning who wants me to process the construction loans and work with her on a marketing plan. She wants me to start my own business as a support business for independent real estate people like herself. She wants me to charge her a heafty amount for my services and eventually expand my business. After looking at her pipeline and future plans I think she would be more than enough business for me - along with my x husbands business. So much for living the quiet artists life.
She also wants me to help promote her... which I can do....very well. I can get her into every real estate function in Northern California...as long as I can go with her. I want to meet her developers...men...lol. She doesn't like public speaking and is even willing to pay me to pitch her to large audiences - we all know how much I love to talk in front of people.
Funny thing...Anne predicted that I would be working with a woman in 2006...doing exactly this. [Anne give yourself a round of applause.]
I just wonder how I will have the time (and energy) to work on my own dream...how do people juggle their family, a business, and their own dreams? How many plates can I keep spinning in the air all at once?
Until next time-
C
Thursday, December 15, 2005
DO YOU KNOW THE WAY TO SAN JOSE...
Peter, aka San Jose Man has contacted me again. It has been a few months, and am impressed in disconnecting my home phone (I changed to the Internet), canceling my last cell phone and buying a new one doesn't stop him from finding me.
Every 45 year old woman needs a young guy in their 20s thinking we are all that. He is a kind pup and the only man so far who takes an active interest in my Hashimotos and does his own research. He was the first to suggest supplements, and look into other forms of treatment. He always contacts me with his latest ideas...it was like having my own personal trainer. I am sure if he lived closer we'd lift weights together. It would be awesome to lift weights with a guy.
Peter lives in Silicon Valley and has moved into selling Real Estate there. Well of course he is...do you think this business will ever let me go??? I attract real estate people like fresh blood to a mosquito. He is full of dreams and spark, I am sure he will do well. He is some sort of Marshall arts expert and just finished a trip to Japan. He has discipline and has done quite a bit so far - for someone so young. He will make a killing in the housing market.
It is nice to have someone checking up on me. Interestingly enough, he doesn't see me as strong and intimidating (words I hate from men) and finds me open and vulnerable. He worries about me, so he fits right in with my close circle of friends and family.
I recently came to the epiphany that I pick men who don't pay attention to my needs. I pick men who want our interactions to be all about them and act as if we don't see the "elephant sitting in the living room" between us. The minute I begin to question their behavior - they freak. I am told it is the sign of an insincere man. Hmmm....how do they sleep at night?
This is a pattern which began due to some incidents that ocured during my years from 9-18. Finally, in the slowing down of my life and taking the time to take care of myself, I am able to do the work to see the patterns that have brought me to this place in my life. If you want to change your life, you have to change yourself from the inside out. Then and only then will the outside world change to match.
I mean come on...I did say I was going to change my whole life right here in front of you so you could watch through my blog. I have to put my money wheremy mouth is.
It is nice to know Peter, who listens to my needs and responds in kind, is out there and I recognize it. I just need to find an older version of him, although he will tell you no - he is old enough. My girlfriend KB married a man 10 years younger and screams "DON'T DATE YOUNGER MEN"! He does however deserve my friendship and kindness, as I like his gentle soul and only positive can come from knowing him.
And he does live in my favorite part of California...
Until next time-
C
EARLY GIFTS
Some days it is best to stay indoors. I have been pushing myself with long hours and walking an hour a day, enjoying this latest cycle of feeling like my old self. But this morning when I awoke to get Brian off to school I knew my adrenals were failing. I decided to stay home, pull out my favorite blanket, read my books and sleep. Exhaustion has set in.
It was a wonderfully relaxing day until I heard my phone vibrate. I went searching for it and found I missed 8 phone calls - two from my mother. Seems I forgot the Democratic Club Christmas Dinner last night. Brian and I were to meet her there, and I completely spaced it from my mind. However, it is just as well since Brian had a book report, his math homework and a health test to complete. It took him all afternoon - until 8:30pm, so we couldn't have gone anyways. This of course, is not how my mother sees it. An apology is never enough as she drags out her most guilt ridden cliché "Well I won't ever do that again"! She has said this about Christmas Eve, traveling with me and my brother, dinner invitations and so forth. I just end the call since this type of guilt parenting pisses me off to no end and I am not about to fight with my mother before Christmas.
It was funny because at about the time Brian and I should have been there last night, we were discussing some questions on his three page health quiz. The conversation rolled around to PMS, and me having to explain it to him (ironically I am pmsing). So I tell him that it is a day where women have these varying symptoms before their time of the month, one being irritability like I was yesterday. (I had snapped at him twice). Just like a kid, without missing a beat he responds "So how long does it last???" "For me, one day" I respond with a laugh. "Relieved?" I ask. "Yeh, but it would be nice if you picked a day I was at dad's house".
After the call I returned to my comfy spot on the couch with my book and fell asleep. I slept all day until my x brings Brian home at 4pm. I realize I need to shop for some groceries and tell him I am running to the grocery store. Now mind you, I am in sweats and my hair is pulled up on top of my head - no make up. Have I not learned from my past shopping experiences?
I think not.
I was racing through the store towards the produce section and as I start to come upon this guy, I glance away because I think, 'Why do I always see cute men when I look like shi*?' For some reason I glance back, he smiles. I decide to risk flashing a big smile back and hope there was no food in my teeth. As he passes to my left he comments, "Wow, you are sure a pretty thing". I was stunned for another 8 steps before I could choke out a thank you at his back. I could have kissed him to death for bestowing such a kind thought at that moment. It was a pure Christmas gift. In the spirit of the 12 days of Christmas ... one wonderful compliment.
I pay for my groceries and was about to cross into the parking lot when the vibration of of a loud la-bamba sounding truck approaches my right. Irritated at the noise I look in at the driver...thinking it is some teenager...but no...
it's Oscar.
I whisper, 'shi*' under my breath and literally grab my groceries from the cart and RUN to my truck. There was no way in hell I was going to be forced to see him and ruin the glow left from the stranger in the store. I swear I run into Oscar at this grocery store EVERY time after one of my rest days. It is like some old date-freak karma.
He looked straight at me - I wonder if he saw through his rear-view mirror my mad panicked dash to my truck and the sound of burning rubber as I raced out of the parking lot. Do I have to drive to Nevada to do my grocery shopping??
No, I'd probably run into Brad there...
Until next time-
C
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
PART OF A LETTER FROM GROUCHO MARX TO HIS SON...
"According to the wire, you are resting well and are being taken care of by a nurse. I hope she is beautiful and that she has red hair. I don't know why, but whenever I dream of a nurse she always has red hair. Red hair makes a man want to recover his health quickly, so that he can get on his feet and the nurse off hers."
MOM....EWWWWWW
I have an idea of my next little item to write here (when I have time)...kinda a Santa Wish list of my own. The holidays are such a whirl of activity, it is difficult to find the time to sit down and put my musings down in this journal.
I walked Boonie the dog to pick Brian up from school yesterday. Now that I am feeling much better I have started walking. I'd like to join a gym and do some weight lifting, but baby steps....baby steps...
The walk from my x husbands office to Brian's school and back gives me a good 50 minute stretch of the legs. The children at the school love Boonie so it makes for a nice little visit for her. Now, to hear Brian tell his version of school he has few friends and no girls like him.
HA!
Yesterday while walking to his class these two girls walk by me and one whispers to the other "That's Brian Cox's mom and Brian's dog!" They both look up "Hi Mrs Cox can we pet Brian's dog?" "Sure" I answer, not having the heart to correct them and say I am not Mrs Cox (never have been for that matter). While petting the dog, one of the girls says "Brian is the nicest boy in school" and she blushes. Brian walks up and the girls giggle and walk away.
"Who are those girls"? I ask him. "Huh"? he answers. "Those two girls over there" I point to their backs. "Oh that's ____ and ____". "They are cute, I think they think you are too..." He rolls his eyes "No they don't". and looks at me like I am nuts. Meanwhile kid after kid is walking by "Hi Brian, hi Brian, hi Brian..." one after the other.
I have to laugh because he is like me in this area. My girlfriends often say to me "Wow, that guy is flirting with you". "He is"?... (then I want to leave).
Perception of our own world is interesting...
C
God when will the shopping end????
Monday, December 12, 2005
WRITERS
Merriam-Webster defines a writer as "one that writes". Last night I was surrounded by a flock of writers, as I attend my first writer's club meeting. (Laugh) It sort of sounds like a 12-step program for writers.
It was wonderful...I was entranced...
And found my "tribe".
C
Sunday, December 11, 2005
DECK THE HALLS
I am a Christmas traditionalist in the sense that Brian and I follow the same traditions from year to year, many similar to those followed by my family. Christmas to me is a Catholic affair and very Irish, dating back to the days of the Celtic festival of Alban Arthuan, held during the Winter Solstice on December 21.
Alban Arthuan is an ancient Druidic fire festival. It takes place on December 21st - 22nd, coinciding with the Winter Solstice. The name means "The Light of Arthur," in reference to the legend that King Arthur was born on the Winter Solstice. Alban Arthuan is also known as 'Yule'.
The custom of burning the Yule Log was performed to honor the Great Mother Goddess. The log would be lit on the eve of the solstice, using the remains of the log from the previous year, and would be burned for twelve hours for good luck.
Decorating the Yule tree was also originally a Pagan custom with brightly colored decorations hung on the tree, usually a pine, to symbolize the Pagan worship of the sun, moon, and stars - and to represent the souls of those who had died in the previous year. The practice of gift-giving came from the tradition of hanging gifts on the Yule tree as offerings to the Pagan Gods and Goddesses.
Brian and I always travel to this little tree farm in Sebastopol, a small town West of Santa where I saw down our tree. There is a model train set on the farm, where Brian stands for what seems like hours watching the little train make its way through and about this countryside that takes up half a barn floor. It is a good thing he is occupied, because every year I tell myself I will bring my own sharp saw and every year I forget, then get to find out just how weak my upper arms have become. Lots of sawing...flabby underarms will be sailing in the wind...
Brian always manages to find the most knot inbedded tree for me to cut down, after looking at casts of thousands, usually returning me to the first one. Like a typical boy, as soon as the hard work is to start he runs off to see the train set.
So there I am on all fours (men don't go there), on damp ground looking at the base for a good place to begin to cut with a saw (from the tree place) that can't cut butter fresh from the microwave. THIS is when I really need a man. I begin the back and forth back and forth back and forth back and forth movement of the saw....three hours later...back and forth back and forth movement of the saw... I now breathe like I am having sex (me on top) so men begin to mingle closer. But none of them offer to help, because they too hate this F***ing part of the Christmas tree tradition!
Finally Brian shows up in time to lie against the tree while I saw, because safety is no longer an issue. I just want to go home before I turn 50. I mean, there are times you do stop and think about getting up and walking away, leaving the tree half cut, tell your kid you are going to Wal Mart (or wherever they are pre cut) and buy one. Eventually with tree in hand I write a hefty check for the privilege of cutting down their tree and we get to go home. You know, this Irish tradition is a little nuts...
Once home when it comes time to prep the tree...my son disappears...leaving me to put it in a water solution. I set the tree up to hose it down to ensure we don't bring in small black house guests that fly, bite and send me screaming from my bed in the middle of the night. I have dated that...don't wanna bring it in on a tree...
When it comes time to decorate (after the lights are on) Brian is right there. This is also a tradition handed down from my family - no one at my house liked to put up the lights, so it was always me. So far, this tradition is right on track. Why do people hate to put lights on the tree? Brian begins his handiwork and like all kids hangs 150 ornaments in one three foot round area at his height on the tree. Like a typical parent, when he is not looking I try to spread the ornaments around the tree.
In the end, it is a compromise and the tree is beautiful. Many of the ornaments have memories for us, when he was born and I was still married. Each tells an enjoyable story we relive while we unwrap them. There are the ones that he made over the years, and ones that we bought to remind us of our dreams - like his favorite one that is a two story house just like one that he wants so badly in real life.
I love every Christmas with Brian. It is wonderful to be able to create the joy of Christmas for children. These are memories that will last a life time. Even the one where I say through gritted teeth "If you throw another rock near that car one more time we will go home NOW and I will cancel Christmas"!! As he looks back at me with that boy only "W h a t..."? innocent crap face.
But then he realizes that I am his redheaded mom, and just crazy enough to do it, so he stops...
It is the holiday season...and cops say these are the weeks that people drink the most throughout the year. Could it be parents with more than one kid...?... Women with husbands who want to put Las Vegas on their front lawn in Christmas lights...?...husbands with wives who come home happy that they are giving everyone everything they ever wanted to the tune of maxing out all their credit cards...?
Peace on earth...good will towards men.
Until next time-
C
Thursday, December 8, 2005
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Wednesday, December 7, 2005
KNIGHT PLEASE
There are just some days when I have to laugh at where my life is and the things that come up during the day as I attempt to figure out what my next “plan” is. So here I am printing and completing the newsletter for my x husband’s business, which finds me in his office more than I care to be. (Lord where is that Knight in Shining Armor to rescue me from this Cinderella life I have created?).
So, I am missing Elisabet, and wishing I could figure out a way to move to Sacramento so we can work together and hang out. She, and Kb are like sisters to me with Elisabet behaving like the youngest, so exuberant for life. Both are Gemini’s, and oddly enough share the same birthday, along with my mother a Gemini. (Lord where is that Knight in Shining Armor to rescue me from this Cinderella life I have created?).
I am also working on her newsletter and sent the rough draft, which causes a day of back and forth phone calls.
They start like this:
Ebet: “Heeelllo dear how are ya?”
Me: “It’s been a month, are you on your way here?”
Ebet: (laugh) “No and wait until you hear why!”
Me: “No girls night?”
Ebet: “Not tonight, I have wading boots on”
Me: “Wading boots…?…is your husband home?”
Ebet: (her great giggle) “Nooooo, wait until you here the latest Ebet story. It will make you feel good about your Lucille Ball moments. Chris is here though, he is shampooing the carpet”
Ebet: “So you know how I worry about my daughter’s fish dying?’
Me: “Yes, so you don’t become the same amphibian murderer like me...”
Ebet: “Exactly.”
Ebet: “How is the burial plot these days?”
Me: “Luckily no new residences”
Ebet; (laugh) “Good, so I decided ON SUNDAY to transfer my daughter’s fish from a 10 gallon tank to a 20 gallon tank from the garage. Now I had to bring the tank from the garage in, clean it and prep it, then drain the 10 gallon tank and clean all the rock, and their little homes and such. Did all that and created a new home in the 20 gallon tank, filled it with water and rolled it over to the family room on this sturdy cart I use, The front right wheel hit the carpet (I gasp and cover my mouth) and the whole tank flew forward…”
Me “OH GAWD”
Ebet: “Yes, I created my own tsunami in my family room with 20 gallons of water and a tank that shattered into a thousand pieces” We both begin to laugh hysterically.
Me; “Oh lord that is something I would do”
Ebet: “I know…and it gets better. It took me three hours just to clean up the glass and rocks”
Me: “The fish weren't in it were they?”
Ebet: “No, that would be you and this story would end with a fish funeral and a burial in your garden”
Me: (laugh) “So true, so the w a t e r..?”
Ebet: “The water is still a nightmare. We used our wet dry vacuum from the garage, and all the towels in northern Folsom, and figured we got it all. We had to move the furniture into the dining room.”
Me: “So no Chris room”
Ebet: “No, and still no Chris room, you know why?”
Me: “Why?”
Ebet: “Well I did say Chris was home shampooing the carpet right?”
Me; “Yes, I was getting turned on at the thought of it”
Ebet: “We were letting the carpet dry and Monday everything was looking great, so Tuesday I wake up at my usual 5:30am…”
Me; “The ungodly hour”
Ebet: “Yes, and the dogs are waiting for me and as I come out of our bedroom upstairs this smell begins to permeate my nostrils”
Me: “Chris…?”
Ebet: “(laugh) This smell of like 50,000 pairs of used men’s sports socks”
Ebet: “It made me gag”
Me: “I bet that turned Chris on”
Ebet: (laugh) “Oh Cathi it was awful. The worst smell. I made Chris get up and come downstairs”
Me: “Of course you did”
Ebet:” So we open all the windows and it is freezing outside. I am thinking snow anytime and we have all the windows open”
Ebet: “So I tell Chris we have to tear up the carpet and probably get rid of the pad, now mind you this is our brand new carpet, so he says “Like hell we are” and he goes down and rents one of those big carpet shampooers”
Me: “So he is in charge now?”
We are both laughing hysterically.
Ebet: “After he shampooed it on Monday it seemed to work, and Tuesday morning when I got up it smelled great, but his morning…"
Me: “50,000 sock smell”
Ebet: “yep”
Me: “oh god, now what? Are you ripping up the carpet?”
Ebet: “Nope. Chris is shampooing it again as we speak”
Me: (laughing)”So this is why you can’t come see me?”
Ebet: “This is why”
At this point she has to take a call from clients andsays she will review the newsletter and call me later in the day.
Later in the day my x husband goes and picks up Brian and takes him to his tutoring and comes back to his office.
My x: “Guess who I ran into?”
Me; “Who”
My x: “Your friend Leslie”
Me: “Ah, was she picking up her daughter?”
My x: “Yes, and you are right, her daughter is beautiful”
Me: “Yes, she looks like her mother, Leslie is beautiful…”
My x “That’s why I asked her for her phone number”
Me: “To get the kids together?”
Myx:“No, to ask her out”
Me: “MY friend? You have now dated so many women in this county that you now have to look among my friends?”
At this moment Ebet calls me back.
Ebet: “OH MY GAWD can you talk”
ME: “Sort of”
Ebet: “Leslie just called me and she is furious because she thinks Terry just asked her out, when she thought he was talking about getting Brian and Olivia together.”
Terry leaves to go to the bathroom.
Me: “Yes, wankerman is now asking out my friends”
Ebet“OMG. Chris is over here shaking his head”
Again, Ebet and I start laughing hysterically.
Me: “You know, I don’t care, except once again it is his way of trying to access my life from every angle. This is the thing, his trying to be all in my life that drives me up a wall and then to the huge fights we have because he just doesn’t get it.”
Ebet: “Well Leslie wants him to call so she can go off on him and tell him he is a jerk if he thinks she would date her girlfriend’s x husband”
Me; “The bigger question would be why would she want to?”
Ebet: “Exactly”
Me: “Can I just move away today?”
Ebet: “Honey I know. I know. It is going to happen for you. I just know it. Just think, you could be living with us and we could be at lunch while Chris cleans the carpet” We both laugh.
Me: “If I was there, the fish might be dead”
Ebet: “Then we’d have wine with the funeral services”
And that my friend was today. I am still laughing, but I know I have to move this dream of mine forward so I can get the hell out of Santa Rosa, even if it is a home in Sacramento, and I stay at the apartment in town when Brian needs me here. I don’t know somehow it has to work where I can have a life where Brian doesn’t suffer. There has to be a way.Lord where is that Knight in Shining Armour to rescue me from this Cinderella life I have created?
Oh wait, I think that Knight has to be ME….damn! Thank God for good friends.
C
Tuesday, December 6, 2005
SHADES OF YESTERDAY
Here I am modeling a replica of Lady Diana's wedding gown for a newspaper article on the Royal Wedding mania, and then local advertisements for the gown. This was back in my college years... back in the days when I worked for Rosenburgs. This was also the time I met Rich and was running track every day - can you tell??? (laugh) He absolutely loved this photograph...kinda funny since he never wanted to get married...
The price tag for just the gown was $5,000.00 back then, would probably be about the same as $17,000.00 in todays market. The woman who wore the real gown and became a princess is now dead, her husband remarried and boys all grown. I found this photo in a book, and it took me back to a different time. It is hard to believe that I was once a wedding consultant for 10 years. Brides are worse than a crying newborn...well WE ARE.
The years go by fast, don't they?
C
DISTRACTED
I am in the middle of writing this month's real estate newsletter for some clients and I am in a rather frisky mood. I would alternatively like to be sending out a "How To Make Love Every Day" newsletter, or something more fun. Maybe if I titled it that way, people would actually read it instead of lining their birdcages?
I am also reading two books at once these days so I haven't had a chance to write my goofy thoughts here as much as I have wanted. Yes, I often read two books at once...
Brian is going through the lippy years, you know the stage where boys think they know everything...or do you men ever out grow that? Anyways, his mouth has shocked even me and finally I found myself becoming my mother as I turned to him in the kitchen, pointed my fork at him and said, "I have never spanked you, or hit you young man, but don't push me"! Visions of my mother flashed before me as I remember her saying the exact same thing to me. I think she had a hammer in her hand when she said it...
Brian looked at me with that funny expression he gets when he is trying to decide if he has really pushed me too far, then thought better of a smart answer and said "I'm sorry". What is with kids that they go through the mouthy stage? Must be re-payment for the years I did it.
Thank God he is a blonde and not a redhead....oiy.
C
http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/
Friday, December 2, 2005
DREAMS
In the beginning there was this woman who lived and breathed mortgage banking, always pushing to be the best within a corporation. One day, she walked away to start another life. She did the crazy thing, brought her life down to a starving artist’s level and began to pursue a long held dream.
Who is she? She is I.
A part of writing this blog is so that people can come along with me and watch the process. When someone writes a personal journal, it tracks the ups and downs of a person’s life while on the path towards something. Usually it is kept under a bed, within written pages that no one ever sees, but I decided to do something different and open up a part of me for the world to see. This blog was created to track the process of me changing every part of my life in the middle of my life, when many would say that it couldn’t be done.
Yes, there are those who think it cannot be done, those who think I am crazy, and those who fear I will crash and burn, those who fear I will actually do it and leave them behind in the dust. But this really is not about some people…it is about me. And when I get to the place I am moving towards, maybe it will encourage others who have become stuck in a life that isn’t really who they are.
I come from a family that believes in making cautious, carefully thought-out decisions full of “right” responsibilities, although I have lived that, I am always the rebellious youngest sibling. You know, the kid risking doing something crazy…. the impulsive one.
Has it paid off? Sometimes, sometimes not…but it has brought me to this place. I have a wonderful boy who I adore, who when I awake every single day since the day he was born, I thank God for. Yes, every morning when I arise, I look at the sky and thank God for giving me the most sacred gift in Brian.
Until Brian was born, I felt this void from the death of my father. I did not realize how much until I held Brian in my arms for the first time, and I was complete. It was as if my whole life’s purpose was made perfectly clear. I was here to have Brian, to bring him into the world to teach him about life … he in return was here to teach me about love.
I am twice blessed, because Brian is just so damn much fun. He makes me laugh every day. His exuberant love of people and life is infectious, his laugh from the angels above. Brian believes I can move mountains and do amazing things. He believes I have a greater purpose than just being his mother - he is adamant about it – so much so I think he is a nag!
Now I haven’t quite disclosed what path it is that I am on to ya all, and I will eventually reveal it here so you can watch it unfold. As my friends here you can say you were with me in mind and spirit from the beginning. You see me when I am down, and when I am picking myself back up. It is the natural cycle of living. I hope it inspires you. I hope it brings you knowledge the human spirit is an ever-changing, free flowing spirit full of great possibilities.
I hope you continue to cheer me on and keep me in your prayers. I hope you continue with your emails of hope and wonderful comments. Finally I hope you find my journey resonating in your own soul and moves you to take some risks as far as your dreams are concerned.
Until next time -
C
Thursday, December 1, 2005
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