You know... that last little 'yawn' post caught me a whole lot of hell from you all. Kinda like parents when you claim you are bored for the 500th time and you receive a shot to the head with a shoe, or chores of the worst kind.
But hey - if you read this blog for any length of time you know I am in this dull, bored-oh-whoa-is-me place. This big ole Catherine pity party train is racing down the track "Whoa is me - whoa is me - chu chu...whoa is me- whoa is me chu chu...chuga chuga chuga chuga..." and it's one hell of a ride thank you very much. I mean, come on. as a Type A personality - if you are going to do something DO IT RIGHT.
My particular pity train resembles the Glacier Express. The Glacier Express is advertised as the slowest express train in the world, requiring more than 7 1/2 hours to pass through southeastern Switzerland. My train, in human form is going on, what..?...not 7 1/2 months! God shoot me if it is - or is this how long I have been working around my x-husband? But it is a slow winding pity train as I take in the sights and try and figure where I finally get off and walk into a new life.
Therein lies the rub. Working with my x husband is not my 'next life'.
THAT'S THE PROBLEM.
Its time to move on. However, this is not quite as simple as it appears.
Whenever I feel lost I pray to St. Jude. It is a very Catholic thing, and why I love to keep his liking posted on this site. (Don't worry I haven't become my mother with the Pope, JFK and my dad all hung on a wall). St Jude is the "Chicken Soup for The Soul" Catholic Saint, and the Patron Saint of lost causes. The St. Jude Novena is dedicated to spreading the message that by praying a novena to St. Jude, you can experience a powerful fellowship of comfort, support and peace in your life.
(I also talk to St Anthony when I loose things, and since I am forever loosing my keys and Anthony seems to find them, this is a tradition I don't mess with either. We can discuss my neurosis on a later blog post).
So back to my dear friend St. Jude. Here I am praying and praying to him (it's like a meditation) "Saint Jude, please help me with..." and "Please show me a sign." I can't seem to do the traditional Catholic prayer of:
"St. Jude, glorious apostle, faithful servant and friend of Jesus, the name of the person (who betrayed our Lord) has caused you to be forgotten by many, but the true Church invokes you universally as the Patron of things despaired of. Pray for me, who is so miserable; pray for me, that I may finally receive the consolations and the succour of Heaven in all my necessities, tribulations, and sufferings, particularly (ADD YOUR PERSONAL REQUEST HERE), and that I may bless God with the Elect Throughout Eternity." BREATHE NOW.
This longer prayer invokes thoughts of women with doilies on their heads, dark whiskers growing from their chins, one complete eyebrow across their foreheads, beating their chests vision in a floral dress and comfortable shoes while looking up at the sky.
Uh no. I need the jeans and leather jacket pray while in the bathroom version.
My girlfriend KB will always tell you that when I ask "For a sign" (quit rolling your eyes KB) some pretty odd 'signs' show up to say the least. I can't ever figure out which one is the sign, so I end up always asking "Is THIS my sign? Cause if it is, I am not getting it." Usually this brings fits of laughter from KB, because my Saints seem to have a warped sense of fun.
So tonight, while still waiting for my sign (yes it's sad being raised Catholic) there is a knock upon my front door. I open it, expecting one of Brian's friends. But no, before me stand two men in suits looking a bit like Fuller Brush salesmen. The littleman in the front with glasses resembles Marvin the Martian and is holding a bible. (Jeesh I haven't sinned THAT much).
Yes friends, the Jehovah Witnesses are a standin on my front door...with bibles...looking like Marvin The Martian.
IS THIS MY SIGN?
Luckily for me I am bar-b-quing in the back so I tell them I can't talk ...my dinner will burn. Now I am ALWAYS nice to these people, because even though they believe in one God and we Catholics believe in the Trinity - they are carrying bibles. We Catholics like all the extra help we can get. All the wine drinking tends to lead us astray. I have a Celtic cross over my front door...maybe they thought I was a witch.
But I am thinking, 'St Jude if this is my sign...then I'm not getting it ...'
Later, I am sitting on the couch (after going running thank you very much), and my rear gate is open. It is dark and I notice a shadow creeping up to my door. I start to sit up as I can tell this is not a cat, dog or human... Suddenly two VERY LARGE raccoons look in my window. They are staring me down...my heart begins to race.
Now those of you that have known me a while remember when a raccoon broke into my kitchen at the old house and I fought him with a baseball bat in my new matching Victoria Secrets red bra and underwear. (Mark was going to be coming for a date that weekend and I had just purchased these new red pieces that were as uncomfortable as hell, but looked delicious, So NO MEN I am not always running around in red bra and underwear). The raccoon in my old kitchen was big, mean and came after me. I was screaming my head off, banging around my Credco Louisville Slugger bat and no neighbors heard me. We fought for almost an hour until I chased him out the pet door he had broken through. He was aggressive and I ended up nailing the pet door shut. He kept trying to come at me while I was nailing away. I'd have to stop, pick up my bat, scream like Mel Gibson in Braveheart and race out my back door at him to run him off. In the end, I flipped him off from my window. Ever since then I am happy to admit that I am not a fan of raccoons.
And here I am tonight facing two raccoons from hell...I STILL HAVE THAT BAT.
Is this my sign? Cause if raccoons are it...then I am not getting it.
My mom calls at this moment and the sound of my ringing phone scare off the raccoons. (They should run from me - I am nuts). She felt the need to call and check on me. Catholic mothers have such a weird 6th sense, or if you are interdenominational you could say it is because she is a Gemini. It was nice to hear from her, I think she loves me best when I am a mess. She's a nurse, so it becomes her goal to make me well. Although, as a parent I know she just wants to see me blissfully happy. Isn't this what we all dream of for our children?
I did take some steps toward change today. Also, my new friend Randy told me something I found absolutely hilarious. He said, "Did you know the Real Estate Application asks "Have you ever been convicted of a misdemeanor or a felony in the past number of years, except for a DUI" I guess they figure we all drink and drive or are all drunks. I had to laugh.
Tonight on PBS evening news there was a story about Principal Ricky Reed in Bay St Louis Mississippi trying to hold together a school 7 months after the hurricane. The whole town looks destroyed. He spoke of children living in cars, tents and the like. I cried. We tend to think our lives are bad until we are allowed a glimpse into someone else's. The thought of children living in a car next to their destroyed home is devastating. To hear this man speak, and his devotion to the children move me.
The story: http://www.pbs.org/merrow/upcoming/
Photos: http://risingfromruin.msnbc.com/2005/10/it_took_hurrica.html
He is pretty damn sexy for a Principal too. What do they feed Principals in the South?? He is yummy. Too bad I can't find a photo with his chest and butt... I know I know...it is a sad story, but he is single ...and very sexy.
Was this my sign??
I am having dinner with Denise tomorrow night. I call her 'the woman that knows everyone' and she is a redhead. Should make for an interesting story...
I need my bed. Thank you all for your kind ims, your emails and the like -smacking me upside the head. I HEAR YOU. I love how my world looks through your eyes.
Until next time-
C
http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/
