DANCING IN THE DARK

The days are a whirl of activity as I manage the migration to a different life.  It's hard adjusting my compass and understanding what it is I am trying to accomplish.  There are some positive ramifications coming out of this change.  I feel better and I am too busy to think.

While I am trying to turn this bus I call a life towards true north, friends in distant places are suffering with the real estate crunch.  I am seeing it in the fore closures of their homes and the crashing down sizing of their lives.  It's hard to watch.  I am lucky that I went back to school and received training in computers so I have many talents to fall back on.  The time spent in telecom doesn't hurt either.  I am also lucky that I have always kept a very tiny life, one I could manage if anything ever happened. I never escalated my life to match the money.  I guess it's the practical Irish girl in me.

While watching friends crash and burn I learn all the interview offers are apparently a rare event.  Many of these friends never even get a phone call and they have masters degrees.  It is a funny economy...and look at me turning up my nose at job offers.  Have I lost my mind?

For so much of my life I have always done what everyone else wants me to do or thought I should do, with my mother warning me the sky was about to fall.  I am tired of doing what others think is best for me.  How do I keep telling Brian to chase his dreams - he can do anything he wants - if I don't do the same?  Of course, I'd like to pack us up and move to a place on the water with pine trees and tall mountains, but Brian's life is here, so here I am ... for now.  God I love him.

A new year is coming, so  I signed up for a dance class.  I love dancing and haven't been doing much of it the past couple of years.  Ok, except for some naked dancing around my living room when Brian is at his dad's. But that isn't REAL dancing. It is time to start re-claiming small parts of myself.  Plus, I am feeling good - no heart pains - no numbing of my hands and feet,  I just need to take it slow,  Dancing felt fun and like something I should try. 

I miss tall dark and handsome, but there isn't a thing I can do about him.  Isn't there a prayer that goes something along the lines of "... accept the things I cannot change..."?  Sometimes acceptance sucks.

At least there is still dark chocolate.

And friends.

And Christmas.

And Brian.

And a redhead's life.

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

CHANGE

I realize something about myself this past week.  I love change.  It is why my longest relationship with a man lasted only 9 years.  I hate routine.  Except when it comes to Brian, of which I could endure endless days of Mr. Alton's Biology class dialog (which put me to sleep in the first ten minutes of class) for the next 7 years if it is what Brian needed.  But for anyone else, forget about it.

Now that my x is running his business out of his home and I can hang in mine and hang at Steph's I am loving the change in routine.  I actually ran around my living room naked this morning... just to run around my living room naked. 

I pause to think of people living together in the same place for 30 years and I shudder... the same job ... ick.  Maybe this is also why I love to write ... to be able to think of something different ... to look at life from distinct angles. I am lucky too ... as I am not tied to a husband who checks-out by watching endless hours of TV, or playing some video game, or online poker.  I think I'd find a young lover and never come home. 

Sometimes under stress we forget just how lucky we are, until the clouds have begun to pass and the sunlight peaks it's way through. 

Change and nakedness. Hmmmmmmmm

It must be the holidays.

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/  

A PIECE OF HOPE

H O P E ... it's a funny little word that conjures a different mental experience for everyone, I think.  There's the HOPE a young girl has when her menstrual cycle seems like it is coming after being foolish enough to have had unprotected sex.  There is the HOPE in watching someone we love attempt something grandiose and desperately wanting them to be successful.  There is the HOPE that comes to some on Sunday evening when wishing for a different week.  There is HOPE one has when praying that someone not die, get sick or suffer. 

HOPE.

Merriam Webster writes that HOPE is to cherish a desire with anticipation -   to expect with confidence.  I see HOPE in the eyes of children, in the Pacific Ocean sunsets, and the sparkling stars of a nights sky.  I see it in the faces of some clergy, in a warm summer breeze, and in a bicycle ride down a hill with legs out stretched to the side. I love the beauty that is HOPE. 

There is foolish HOPE, like when we wish someone else will change, or bring us what we think we need, or carry our burdens.  These are often the unanswered foolish HOPE.  And quite possibly the type of HOPE that leads to heartache.  Ahhhh damn the foolish HOPE ... it will bite ya' every time.

Speaking as someone who has often picked her ass back up from being knocked to the ground, I can say with certainty that I have experienced all the diverse nuances of HOPE.  The most painful is foolish HOPE, which seems to stem from a desire to hide from the world, rather than running and embracing it with everything we've got.  But hiding in this HOPE is ok ... sometimes we need it in order to rest and set our sites on a new dream.  Or to be able to dust off an old one and bring it out into the light.

I have seen the walking HOPEless in the eyes of poverty, in the face of abuse and the passion of greed.  I have seen it in adults who accept less from the world, and attempt to bring others down with them.  A soul void of HOPE is cruel heartache looking for something to destroy.  Be wary of the HOPEless, those that will try to make you less than you are. Keep your eye on the mark ... supported by HOPE ... and let the HOPEless go.  As soon as you do, there is a freeing experience that comes with the letting go.

I like how Emily Dickenson puts it, ""Hope" is the thing with feathers-- That perches in the soul-- And sings the tune without the words-- And never stops--at all."  We must remove our own weighted bags of sand and soar upwards...

for the next dream begins with new HOPE.

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

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WHEN I PLAYED IN THE SANDBOX THE CAT KEPT COVERING ME UP...

I am certain deceased relatives are dancing over their graves as my brother pulled off a Thanksgiving dinner party at his home.  There is hope for him yet.

My mother insisted that I be at my brother's house by three, and she shows up at four.  I think it was in her master plan to have my brother and I spend "quality" time together.  It was cute, because he seemed to be a bit nervous about hosting such a big dinner.  He appears to have everything under control, as he pours me a drink, grabs Brian's football and directs us outside.

I sit on his grey stone porch admiring the blue sky and the fact that my brother is about to play ball with my son, his nephew.  Brian loves attention from adults.  He has one of those odd, quirky smiles one has when trying not to let people know you are thrilled.  They throw the football back and forth until my mother arrives.  This is the first time I have ever watched my brother play outside with Brian.

My mother arrives with a stuffed turkey in hand and a centerpiece for the table.  My brother has prepared numerous side dishes and I start the potatoes.  The wait for my niece and nephew begins.  Brian sits at the front door watching the street waiting for the two young adults he admires most, his cousins.

Shannon and Johnny, my niece and nephew arrive with Shannon sporting a new vehicle.  They aren't children anymore.  I haven't seen them since Shannon's going away party.  Brian attacks Johnny like a starving dog to its owners, and I hug Shannon.  She is so perfectly beautiful.  I think she is already wealthier than me... she is her father's daughter.

For the first time, we will be having Thanksgiving with just our side of the family.  Felicita is gone, so there isn't this little Italian woman standing at the window seeing if I have brought a new man, then bitching that we are late. It is just my brother, mother, his kids and my son Brian.  No boyfriends or girlfriends.  It is a true family dinner.

For the first time in the kid's lives we began to tell our family stories and laugh, exposing the kids to the Irish side of their heritage.  And like my father before him, my brother has a mental library full of stories about construction and the different paving contractors in this area.  Trust me, Jimmy Haffa is most definitely buried in cement.  The stories still facinate me and I think they would make a great Chinatown-type movie about the construction industry.

Shannon talks of college and her boyfriend. Johnny is weeks away from driving his own truck. My mother is warmed by the joy of having her family about her. She is the grandma of the day. The usually shy Brian decides to try his dinner story telling skill for the first time and recites a long list of jokes, which make everyone laugh.  The best part is the shock on Shannon's face, because Brian's jokes are actually funny; then her great laugh causing Brian to giggle, which causes her to laugh harder which causes Brian to giggle more and the rest of us explode in laughter at the two of them.  Brian thinks he is "all that".  He even tells Shannon she is beautiful.  Oh I see shades of his future with women...

The dinner is excellent and my mother's stuffing gives me heartburn as usual.  My brother leans back in comfort from having a nice Thanksgiving with his kids, who I tell some of his best secrets.  He can give me all the stern looks he wants, but the kids love it.  Especially Shannon... when he harps on her for her boyfriend's age.  As she sits there trying to defend the age difference, I clear my throat and tell Shannon to ask him how old Lily was when they met.  "Eighteen", he answers.  And how old he was ... she looks at him "Twenty-five" he answers again.  Shannon laughs and hits his leg as they were exactly the same ages Shannon and her current boyfriend are now when he met their mom.

For some reason it is rare that my brother tells the kids his stories, so they are hanging on every word.  Shannon wants to know about our father, as she complains that my brother never talks about him.  Shannon asks if he was mean, and my mother and I laugh.  "Our dad?"  I ask.  "Well yeah," says Shannon, "because he never talks about him." looking at my brother.  For the first time in years my brother tells a story about our dad.  "I had this MG spitfire when I was in high school that never ran right and one day after school it dies.  My friends and I push it home.  When dad gets home from work I tell him about my car and he says, 'Let's go out and look at it', but I told him I didn't want to, that I want to go to the basketball game with my friends.  He says ok, and tells me to have fun.  When I get home late that night he is in bed, and when I get up the next day I discover while I was gone to the game, he fixed my car." he smiles and looks away.  "THAT," I respond, "That was our dad Shannon.  He would have given you the world if you asked."  She smiles, pleased.  We begin to tell her other stories of him.  This is a big step for my brother. 

We clean the table and do all the dishes together as a group.  It has taken 18 years to get us to this point.  My brother's dinner party was a huge success. 

And Brian thinks he is the new Rodney Dangerfield...

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

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Tags: A Week In the Life of A Redhead, Best Parenting Blog, Rodney Dangerfield

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

May your stuffing be tasty
May your turkey plump,
May your potatoes and gravy
Have nary a lump.
May your yams be delicious
And your pies take the prize,
And may your Thanksgiving dinner
Stay off your thighs!

FRESH STARTS

It has been a crazy week so far.  It's funny because usually everything slows down the week of Thanksgiving in this business.  However, I am migrating my ex to his home office, training someone for him and driving to Stephanie's to start things with her.  I already like the change and can feel the winds blowing in a new direction.  I don't have time to think, which is probably a good thing.

The COO of the company I interviewed with on Halloween sent me another email about how disappointed he is that I didn't give him a chance.  Hey there sparky, I am a single mother here doing it all on my own - you want me - grab me while you can.  I didn't see an offer on my table to "give him a chance."  I heard through some old friends from ATG that he contacted of my old CTO, Curt.  I guess Curt raved about me, and it wasn't just for the size of my breasts.  So now this COO began to hear the stories ... like when I started the "Future Women in Technology" program at one of the local high schools and volunteered time there while working for ATG.  The principal tried talking me into getting my teaching credentials and becoming a teacher.  Or the reason I was employee of the month.  Or the time the CEO called me during the black out ... when I was in the bathroom in the dark and answered my cell phone.  I asked him to come find me because we had no security lights and I literally could not see the hand in front of my face. I was trying to use my cell phone to light my way out of the bathroom.  The CEO thought that was the funniest thing he had ever seen.  All I was thinking is "I am NOT dying in a bathroom!"  Curt will say, "You have to have that redhead around for the great laughs."

Now the hearing assistance company is calling me about their inside sales position too.  I haven't even gone for an interview.  I am going to work with Stephanie, but I will go interview and see what they have to offer. 

Interestingly enough, the stress has been monumental these few weeks and I seem to be making it without a serious "crash".  This morning I was up at 5am working on the computer and organizing my desk at home.  I feel fine, so maybe now the Armour is finally kicking in.  Or ....getting further away from my ex husband pleases me more than I realize...  I can't really say anything bad, as he did step up to the plate and helped me as I have helped him. 

Some other closures came up for me personally this week and it feels great.  It sometimes takes me a while to completely disconnect from things, but when I do, I am done and there is no going back.  I hate re-tracing old steps when a new path looks so much more inviting ... and promising.  Don't you love getting rid of emotional baggage and walking away?  It is so freeing.  You stand there scratching your head wondering why you didn't disconnect earlier.  I guess it takes some of us a little longer to learn our lessons.

I am looking forward the Thanksgiving at my brother's house.  He has already called me twice as we are trying to co-ordinate it around my mother's back.  So far we are working on the "How do we get her not to put her stuffing in the turkey?" plan.  I am looking forward to spending a relaxing day with my family and drinking wine with my brother.  He is one of those people who becomes funnier when he relaxes, so I will be refilling his glass often.

Gotta run-

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/