Ramblings of a Single Mom

[Gypsy]

So, my daughter joined basketball, at school. It's going to be a lot like the volleyball thing, with the numerous teams and weird scoring, I bet. She looks absolutely adorable in her jersey and shorts, and so far, she loves the game. From what I hear, she shows more promise as a basketball player than she did at volleyball. I wouldn't know firsthand, as her first practice was on Thursday night and I had to work...and her first game was on Saturday, and I had to work. I think she has a practice this Tuesday night though, and a game next Monday. That's cool, because those are my days off. I just hope those aren't my only two chances to see her play.

Saturday she had two games, and her team won both. I don't know how literal or honorary the title may be, but her coach named her aggressive defense captain. She was thrilled, of course. Then she got two fouls within two minutes of each other. *snicker*

Harley isn't looking forward to going back to school tomorrow. I'm hoping the fact that I went ahead and got him a bike for Christmas helps. He hates the walk back and forth to school, and his bike is pretty cool, if I do say so myself. I do think we're going to have some strong arguments in the future, though...I know it's only a matter of time before he forgets to lock it up. I suspect that if he forgets to lock this one up, and turns his back for more than ten seconds..it'll be gone. He'll be grounded until graduation, if that happens. I told him that I remember how much I paid for that bike, and I'll break that number down into hours divisible by minimum wage...then multiply by two. That's how many hours he'll have no life, while he works for me. I'll have a clean car, a clean kitchen, a clean toilet...all of it. I had to work my ass off for the money to buy that bike. If he lets it get stolen due to not being responsible, I solemnly promise, he'll work for it, too. I'm guesstimating, but I'll say it's somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 hours of labor to pay me back for the cash I paid for the bike...and another 30 hours as punishment. Think I'm kidding?

I bought myself the movie Rock Star, the other day. I couldn't help myself - it was on sale. I think I gave $5.99 for it. There were three racks: $3.99, $5.99, and $8.99. Well, three *sale* racks, anyway. It came off one of those. I happened to pass by as I was looking for a new caller ID, and just could not resist. No, I haven't watched it yet. I did sit down and watch Phenomenon tonight, though. I hadn't seen it since it was a new release, and the first time I watched it, it was kinda hard on me. I didn't like the surprise of finding out that what was happening was because of a brain tumor. My boss, whom I thought the world of, had recently died of a brain tumor. I also remembered well that phone call from my father, the day after Christmas in '90. You know, the one where he broke the news that he had two tumors in his brain, and that he'd been given six months to live.

Yes, I cried this time, too. Silly me, thinking I was tough enough to handle it this time, without crying.

You know, for several weeks, I've been somewhat annoyed when I sit down to write my post. I think of things all day long that I'd like to write about...and when I get the time to write, they all fly right out of my head. Or, I think about them again and wonder why I wanted to write about *that* in the first place. Or I decide that it's too boring, too much information...or I just don't want to tell anyone.

I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I've been feeling rather contradictory, lately. Like, with Mr. Silent. I feel many things on that subject, and which one I'm feeling the strongest may change twice in a five minute timespan. In certain respects, it's the same thing with the Dodge (non)situation. How irritating, and how confusing. If it confuses me so much, I can only imagine how much it must irritate and confuse whomever reads this journal.


Maybe it's because I can't get rid of this feeling that someone I know is reading this, and I've become somewhat cautious as to what I post. Maybe I'm just bored with writing. I don't know. I know that I used to enjoy it a lot more than I do now. And I find that very sad.

 

[Gypsy]

I click on a link from an email, assuming it will open in its own new browser window. I didn't even notice that it hadn't, until I went to finish the last few sentences of my post.

Yes, it was gone when I clicked back. I'd been writing for over an hour, and now I don't know whether to be pissed, or what.

I was speaking a bit more openly than I've been doing lately, about how and what I'm feeling regarding Mr. Silent. It perturbs me that I wrote it all down, and three sentences from finishing and posting, I lost it all because I clicked on a link.

Maybe it was for the best that I didn't post it for the world to see.

I'm getting showered and dressed now, and leaving the house to take care of some errands. Thank God I feel better physically now than I did at 8 this morning. I'm not going to get everything done I needed to do today, but at least I'll get *something* done.

Maybe I'll try again to write that post, some other time. Then again...maybe keeping a few things to myself just isn't a bad thing.

 

[Gypsy]

I'm having a really hard time being honest with myself about my feelings and what I want, right now. I guess it's because I have no choice but to keep myself firmly grounded in reality. I know I can't have what I want, and even admitting that I want it will make it hurt more.

If it were all about making a choice, then it would be so easy! But, it's not about choices, because, I don't have one. I just have to keep playing the hand I'm dealt, until someone deals me a different hand. Unfortunately, the dealer has left the table, and the building, too. I'm stuck with the hand I have, and I can't see any way out.

I need a wild card. Or maybe a little magic. I'm afraid the kind of magic needed to remove my obstacle(s) just doesn't exist around here. I'd love to be happily surprised at finding out I'm wrong about that, but...reality, remember? I curse at reality, right now.

And I curse at my disobedient heart, for refusing to stay within attainable boundaries. It must be time to get out the choke-chain again, and refresh the stringent training I've doled out. More easily said than done, when you honestly don't want to do it.

I always, always, always seem to want more for myself than I know I'm allowed to have.

 

[Gypsy]

My baby is nine. Does that make me old?

Harley's birthday went well. All except for poor Brandon (my nephew) being terribly sick. Poor kid couldn't stay out of the bathroom.

I got off work a bit early, and ran to Walmart for a last minute item I wanted to give him as a present. When I got home, I enlisted the aid of four kids (my two and their best friends from across the street) to get the house tidied up and dinner ready. In the space of just over an hour, the floors were swept, the trash taken out, all dishes washed, lettuce and tomato chopped, taco meat cooked, a little bit of vacuuming done with my new Dustbuster, the bathroom cleaned, presents wrapped. I was impressed, and pleased. I even had time after it was all done to get my new caller ID set up before people started showing up. Only having one caller ID that supports call waiting caller ID really sucked - especially since it's on the cordless, and the battery runs down too quick to suit me. Plus, unless you happen to be talking on the cordless when a call waiting beep comes in, it won't pick up the information. Now we have one on the corded phone, too. I'm pleased. It even has an auto-redial feature, so if you want to call someone back you can be lazy about it. *grin*

My ex managed to wrangle himself a ticket to John's concert in February. I'd mentioned the concert and told him that they were holding tickets for me and the kids, because the concert occurs on a Friday night - and that's his night with the kids. He thought the tickets would be free, so he asked for one. Then he had to cover his embarrassment when John said "Yeah, I have some with me, they're eleven bucks" by getting out his wallet and paying for it. It's kinda funny, except now I'm stuck with dealing with him that night, it'll cut down on my enjoyment. On the other hand...he can take the kids home with him when the concert is over, and I can hang with my sister for a bit. So, maybe there's a silver lining, there.

I still don't want to hang out with my ex at a concert, though. Damnit. I wonder how he'll react if I buy two tickets of my own, sitting separately from him and the kids...and bring someone along? Such evil thoughts of mayhem. If I thought for two seconds I could get Mr. Silent to come down for the concert...whooboy that'd rock the ex's world right off it's axis. Of course, doing something like that would most certainly keep him from even considering letting me and the kids move *anywhere*, all over again. Not that I'm sure he'd consider it now, but he'd be closer to it at this point than he was in the past. He hates Mr. Silent. Murderously. It's made him pretty content and complacent for the past year, knowing I've had no contact with him. Any idea how much that irritates me? Gotta keep the peace...for what reason, I'm not sure. Wait, I know. So the kids aren't upset. And because a complacent ex is more likely to consider letting me have my way, someday. Ok, so it's just easier to not have to deal with the bullshit, I admit it. The part about not having the kids all upset all the time is true, though. I don't know what would be more likely to push him in the direction of giving me what I want - letting him be complacent, or flaunting the fact that I have a life that doesn't include him, and people in it that he hates (and is jealous of). I don't want him to go on a drinking spree/furious rampage...and yet, him doing something stupid like that might be the only way I'll ever get the judge to let me go. The fact that I fear for the kids' safety under that scenario always stops me. If something like that happens, then it happens...but I just can't bring myself to provoke it deliberately. I guess I just don't have that kind of courage. Plus, protective mother mode always hits a safety switch and shuts everything down, if I so much as daydream about it as a mean little fantasy when I feel the urge to get revenge. Yeah, I get those urges against him, you bet I do. Not as often as I once did, but that's more because I've forced myself to try to control my emotions than because I'm okay with everything.

I was talking about Harley's birthday, damnit. You'd think I could write about one simple subject without rambling all over the place, wouldn't you? Sheesh.

Ok, so he got a skateboard from his dad, which pleased him to no end. And a pair of spiderman socks, and some of those neat little gloves with the fingertips missing. I got him practical stuff, of course. Two new pair of boxers...Spiderman. Three packs of rechargeable batteries (for all those remote control cars he got for Christmas). A necklace. A bike lock. (The one I bought him for Christmas ended up having to be cut off with bolt cutters. Piece of shit...). Oh yeah - Pokemon cards. Can't forget that.

He was happy. And he loved the Spiderman birthday cake. He adores Spiderman (bet ya didn't guess that, huh?), and his favorite color is blue. The cake had both. Yeehaw.

I'm amazed that after having ten to twelve kids and five adults in the house for three hours, the place wasn't destroyed. It actually didn't take any time at all to straighten up after they all left. Always a plus, yes?

Excuse me. The dryer has stopped, must remove the load and refill.

I have to say something:

Gordy, I wish you'd get a computer for at home, and net access. I don't want you to stop posting, I like your journal. I hope you can at least email me now and then from *somewhere*, and let me know how you're doing, how your brother is doing. In the meantime, you have all my best wishes. I honestly hope you really like your new job, and Congratulations! and all that...but dangit, I'll miss you. *sigh*

Algernon, I miss your journal, and I miss your emails. I hope all is well in your world, my friend. There is so much I want to say, to ask...but I don't even know if you're still reading. Besides, the stuff I want to talk about isn't really for the open boards. I lost your email addy when my hard drive crashed...I wish you'd write. *sigh*


You know, it would be so nice to be able to write here about a fairy tale ending of my own, someday. I hope I get the chance. I'm afraid to dare to hope, and yet...no matter how much I vigorously stomp on that hope because I fear its futility...it refuses to completely die. I suppose I shouldn't complain about that. My ability to hold a spark of hope no matter how bleak the situation, sometimes against my own will, has saved me repeatedly throughout my life. I look back on my life in five year increments and see where I've been, in comparison to now. Even with crappy stuff still happening to one degree or another, my life *has* continued to improve, somehow, especially in the past three years. It's not everything I want, it's far from perfect, but when you do the comparison, it's jolly damned fine. It's just a lot easier to be complacent when you don't have anything to hope for, to fight for.

Sometimes, I wonder if Fate's sole purpose is to torture me. Fate is in cahoots with Murphy, I swear it must be true. I'll catch the two of them together someday, and stomp them both into a little black speck on the ground.

So sayeth one gypsy dreamer.

 

[Gypsy]

I'm laughing my ass off...

Yesterday, I got to work at 4:30, and there wasn't much going on. Dave was leaving on a delivery, and I went inside and saw that there were a few dishes to be washed, but nothing much. There was, however, some really icky water in the middle sink, so I reached in to pull the plug and drain it. There was no drain plug to pull! I looked over, and saw the metal piece that was supposed to be in the drain, but without the rubber stopper underneath it. Uh-oh.

This has happened before, and it's mostly because Mike keeps buying cheap drain plugs that don't properly fit our sinks. I don't know how Frank got the last one out, but I think he used a sharp knife to pry it out. So, I tried doing that, too. I gave myself a tiny cut, so put the knife down. I tried a thermometer - you know, the kind with a point sorta like an ice pick? Well, I managed to bend the thermometer slightly, but never got the rubber stopper out. I told Dave that I'd failed to remove it, and he decided to try.

Now, Dave was the one who pulled out the drain plug in the first place, and he knew that the metal part was out and all that was in there was the rubber bit. I reminded him of that several times, too.

He got a screwdriver, and tried to pry it out. When that didn't work, he got a hammer and started pounding on the screwdriver. When that didn't work, he tried to use the claw on the hammer to pry it out. When the head of the hammer snapped off the handle, he went back to trying to pry it out with the screwdriver. Nothing was working. I'm pinching my lips together trying not to laugh, because all this really does seem rather excessive for trying to remove a rubber stopper in the very bottom of the drain. I mean really...breaking a hammer? Pounding on a screwdriver? It's rubber, for chrissake...

And then I noticed that water was pouring out of the bottom of the sink, all over the floor. I told Dave, but when he looked down, he didn't see it, because it stopped. I had to tell him three times, and on the third time, I said "Whatever you're doing right now (his hand was in the sink under the murky water), keep doing it, and look underneath." He did, and finally saw the steady stream of water pouring onto the floor. He grabbed a bucket and put it under there to catch it. Realizing that this isn't a good thing, but now we can get the water out so we can see what the hell we're doing, he continues to do *whatever*, so the water will continue to drain.

He'd punched a hole in the sink with the screwdriver, just above the stuck rubber piece. For the next 45 minutes, I worked very, very hard on my poker face.

Now Mike has to replace the part that goes in the bottom of the sink, the part that connects to the drainpipe. He's mighty pissed, he is. Dave said "That little rubber piece is all that's in there?? I thought the whole metal thing was down there, I was trying to get *that* out!" I had to work really hard not to laugh out loud. "Dave, I TOLD you the metal was out, I pointed it out to you, I TOLD you the rubber stopper was all that was in there." He insisted he didn't realize that. In the name of keeping peace with Dave, I walked away, not mentioning aloud to Mike that Dave had been the one to pull the metal basket out (breaking the drain plug) in the first place...so he KNEW, but apparently forgot.

Too freaking funny. Really, really glad it's not my oops.

It's now 11 AM, and since I have a doc's appointment before work, I'd better get my butt in the shower. I need to be able to take my time, shave my legs...try to get rid of this eternal winter dry skin. Yeesh. Oh yeah, and I have to write a note to the kids, since I completely forgot to tell them about it yesterday afternoon before I dropped them at their dad's. Alyssa will probably be perturbed about having to walk Harley over to their dad's today, but my main concern is that they'll forget to walk the dog. Poor doggy.

I have a lot on my mind, but I think I'll keep most of it to myself, for now. I'm afraid if I talk about it, I'll jinx something. If it isn't already jinxed, that is.

Catch you on the flip side...

 

[Gypsy]

I wrote this post last night, offline, but had net connection troubles long enough that I forgot to actually post it here, in the end. I probably should leave it unseen on my hard drive, but frankly, I got a good laugh at my own expense, so I figure it might make someone else laugh, too.

Sugar-Snit...laugh, ok?

***

I went to the doctor, and now I'm staying home on a Friday night. Can I afford this? Nope. However, I can't afford a car crash, either...and I certainly am NOT one of those people who can take strong pain pills and drive safely. Especially (!!) in Friday night traffic. I just hope and pray that this is the last time I have to do this...at least for this particular ailment. I'm relieved to be a lot less emotional about it, this time. Knowing what's happening, actually expecting it, helps that. Give me a nasty shock, and I'll turn into such a GIRL about things. And then I get even more upset, because I'm not controlling my emotions, and (egads!) people saw me cry, and be weak. Not good. I have an image to uphold around here, you know.

'Scuse me a second. There's dust on this screen, and I sincerely cannot stand it.

*pause*

That was close!

I normally completely clean my monitor from top to bottom and front to back, at least every couple weeks to a month. Ditto for wiping down the tower, mouse, and keyboard. However, I haven’t taken the time to do more than wipe the dust off my screen for about six to eight weeks, because life has been busy…and I just haven’t cared. Anyway, I dusted the screen, but it wasn’t clean enough to suit me, so I got out the windex and some paper towels, and cleaned it off. After doing that, though, it was really easy to see how icky/dusty/yellow the rest of the monitor looked, so I grabbed more paper towels, and properly wiped it all down. Then I noticed my keyboard. Ewwww… I started wiping the top row of the keyboard down, you know, the part where all the multi-media keys are. I accidentally hit the media button or something, I don’t know for sure which, and it caused the page to jump to MSN home. ACK! So, I hit the Back button fast, and luckily, my post was still there. Deciding that I wasn’t in the mood to lose a post, I quickly cut and pasted to Word, and saved it to the desktop. Jolly good thing, too. I sent the computer into standby by accident, and since I never do that on purpose, I didn’t know how to get it to wake up again without doing a warm boot. I kept hitting the Enter button, but when that didn’t work, I was clueless what I was supposed to do. Actually, I might have spent some time thinking about it or trying something more creative…but I’m stoned on Lortab at the moment. Boy, was I glad I’d saved what I’d written. Not that it was much, or difficult to remember, or even anything worth reading…but that’s not the point, now, is it? No, the point is, I’d have been highly irritated to have lost yet another unsaved post.

And you thought I rambled about nothing much, when sober. Hehehe! Yes folks, she CAN write worse, she can! And about absolutely nothing at all, too! More so than usual, that is. Can you see why I wouldn’t want to drive like this? It’s a scary thought, isn’t it?

Well, I imagine Mike is perturbed with me for calling in again, but this time he was warned far in advance. I let him know this might happen, and I reminded him yesterday. I also wrote on the schedule “Might be late – or have to call in.” I’ll take him the doc’s note tomorrow. No way can he write me up. Of course, not being written up doesn’t help the money I’m losing, but, tomorrow is another day.

I’ve noticed something. A lot of men don’t spell ‘tomorrow’ correctly. In fact, at least half of them (that I’ve seen, not globally or anything) that do spell it wrong, spell it wrong the same way. ‘Tomarrow’. Isn’t that funny?

Being stoned, even on a legal prescription pain pill for a justifiable and legitimate reason, makes me rather nervous. Even though the kids aren’t here so I don’t have to be in Mommy mode, I’m still nervous. I keep waiting for someone to knock on my door, and pronounce that I’m in trouble or a bad person, because I’m high. I should worry more that they’ll come take my computer away for writing inane babble, huh? *grin*

Oh! I saw the end of Kiss The Dragon, last night. I know it’s not supposed to be a girly thing, but I LOVE watching Jet Li kick ass. Oh, come on! I’m not supposed to like swords and knives either, but I do. A little too much, I think. If I could afford it, my living room would have a motif wall, with swords and battle axes and stuff. Maybe it’s just as well that I can’t afford it, people already think I’m mighty weird.

I heartily wish it were possible for Mr. Silent to call right now, and just chat up a storm for about two hours. I’m sooo in the mood for a good story, or to tell one of my own. I’d love to be laughing right now. Listening to his soothing sexy voice, it would be easy to forget I’m in pain, easy to forget about feeling nervous about being stoned on a pain pill, easy to forget I’m sitting here alone. Ah well. Dem’s da berries, yes?

I’ve tortured you enough. I have no idea how much sense I’m making, none at all. I’m going to go write in my private journal, now. Then again, maybe I’ll just lie on the couch and daydream about something really pleasant.

***

Happily enough, Mr. Silent did call, and we talked nearly two hours. I wasn't sure whether to be surprised at that or not...he was in a grouchy mood earlier in the day. But, as though he read my unposted entry, or read my mind, he called. And we laughed - a lot. I felt much, much better. Laughter...the best medicine.

I slept like a baby last night. I just wish I'd gone to bed a bit sooner, and gotten more of it. I feel a tad sludgy right now, but I'm hoping that a shower and some coffee will kick that.

Do me a favor, will you? Wish me a really great day, with plenty of deliveries and lots of tips, no grouchy customers. Oh! And wish for Mike to be in a really good mood too. Thanks.

 

[Gypsy]

My ex is such a dick.

Hi there.

I’m still afraid to write about what’s been going on, for fear of jinxing things or changing anything from the track it’s on. I’m dying to tell, and at the same time, my instincts keep telling me ‘no’. Suffice it to say, for now, that for the past week or two, I’ve been a veritable kaleidoscope of emotions, changing both in intensity and direction from one moment to the next. The only truly steady theme has been fear – the kind one holds for their own heart.

Maybe I’ll elaborate on that when I’m feeling more certain.

Alyssa had a ball game tonight, and her team won 27-23. She was a tad upset after the game, because her father showed up late (insisting on sitting next to me, of course), and as we were all walking out he told her she didn’t play as hard tonight as she had the last game. Here she was, all proud of herself and happy that her team had won, both parents had made it to the game and all, and he rained on her parade. I could feel her crying silent tears as she got into the back seat of my car, and it made me feel like shit. Her dad had mentioned he had today’s paper and was finished with it, offering it to me. “Yeah, whatever” I said, and he went to get it. When he came back from his van and handed me the paper, I told him his daughter was upset, and *he* needed to talk to her. He sat down next to her in the back of my car, and asked why she was crying. Alyssa is pretty good at stating how she feels when asked outright, and she let him have it. I wish you could have heard him backpedaling – he sounded so lame. No one was buying it, not even him. He looked up at me in the rearview mirror, and asked “You wanna jump in here and help me?!” I looked him in the eye (via the mirror) and said “Nope, you’re doing fine all by yourself.” He backpedaled some more and said goodnight. As we drove away, Alyssa told me that she felt like we weren’t proud of her. I told her don’t be silly, of course I’m proud of her – the only thing I’d said was that I wondered if us being there distracted her from the game, since I’d seen her look over at us so much. I thought she did very well, and she’s quite the aggressive little defense, just as I’d been told. She hurt one of her fingers early on, and the team they played tonight was mostly bigger, taller kids than the last team. Also, tonight's opposing team’s coach is a strong believer in aggressive defense – more so than the previous team's coach. All the Monarch girls seemed to be just a bit overwhelmed and intimidated tonight and none of them were really ‘in the game’. Even with all that factored in, our girls still won. I reminded her of that, and told her it was a really good game – and that the best games to watch are the close ones, where the skill levels are more closely matched. That seemed to make her feel better.

Mr. Silent called not long after we got home. Apparently he was in a playful ornery mood, for he spent a lot of time during this call teasing me about my ‘southern accent’ and the phrases I sometimes use. I’m not sure which he thinks is cuter – my accent, or my reaction when he teases me about it. Butthead.

Well, I’ve eaten enough salty foods and drank little enough water in the past week or so to really screw myself up. I weighed myself at the doctor today (no, this time it was Alyssa seeing the doc) and the scale informed me I’ve gained a pound since Friday. It feels more like fifteen, I have to tell you. I feel like CRAP. It’s my own fault for eating too many tacos (twice in one week) and taco pizza (hard to avoid it at work, they keep putting it on the buffet), and imbibing too much soda. All that stuff is a recipe for disaster for someone who is overly sensitive to sodium the way I am. Anyway, tonight, I can’t seem to get enough water in me. I’ve had two glasses full since we got home, and now that there’s no cold water in the fridge, I’m perturbed. I don’t bother with ice trays at home, since I rarely use ice. I keep a gallon jug of water in the fridge, since I not only like it nice and cold, but I like it to have settled for a few hours before I drink it, too. It just tastes better, ok? Who needs ice? However, the kids tend to drink the water and then forget to refill the jug. Grrr…I’m thirsty, damnit.


Hey, Thomas…sorry I didn’t get off the phone in time to say goodnight and safe trip. When I answered the phone, I thought it was someone else, meaning I’d be blowing them off pretty quick. Hey, I can’t always be right, now can I? Anyway, I’ll look for you Tuesday night. We both need updates. And, I hope you’re having a safe trip. I know how much you love to drive, and all.

I keep trying to think of stuff to write about that isn’t about Mr. Silent. Since I’m failing, I’m gonna call this the end of tonight’s post. Have a good night, everyone. Sleep well, and all that.

 

[Gypsy]

You're going to think I'm nuts, but...

I'm wearing an imaginary ring. You heard me - it's imaginary. I'd describe it, but...it isn't really there, now, is it? Does anyone find this odd? Yeah, I thought you might.

Someday, the ring will be real. For now, though, it lives only in my imagination, in my emotions, in my heart. It belongs to a relationship that exists in the exact same place, so strangely enough, that makes the ring more real than a physical one would be, at least for now.

And you have no FREAKING idea what I'm going on about, do you? *sigh* I know, you think I took another pain pill. I did not, I give you my word.

I have no idea what the physical ring will look like, when the time comes. Nor does it matter, actually. For now, I wear the imaginary one, and it can look like anything I want it to. In fact, its imaginary appearance can easily change from one day to the next - how's that for cool? Kinda like magic, only...not. However I may imagine it, it will always carry some semblance of a celtic motif.

You should see the bone, silver, and buckskin choker I bought today. Holy shit, this thing is cool, it makes my neck look long and elegant, and it will (I *think*) look fabulous with the off-white peasant blouse I got the other day. The guy who cuts my hair wears some of the most amazing handmade jewelry, stuff he and his wife make themselves. AWESOME. I also have a nice new silver and turquoise ring. I've always wanted a ring like this, ever since...well, forever. Anyway...I'm supposed to go back in a day or two to get a necklace I asked him to make for me. Actually, it's not for me, it's a present, but anyway. He didn't have it with him today, so that sucked. I'm just hoping that our wires weren't crossed when I described to him what I was wanting. He has assured me that if it's not what I'm wanting, it's no big deal - they'll just sell it to someone else.

This is a weird post, and I'm cutting it short. I have to go to Wal-Mart and buy a new travel kit - my old one is just not useable anymore. Also, I need to pick out a new pair (or two) of thongs, since my new jeans are so damned low-rise that even with bikini panties, I'd have to shove them down in the back. I figure I have two choices: Go without undies of any kind, or wear thongs and worry less if they stick out than I would if they were bikinis. I might be a tad self concious about the tops of my thongs (possibly) showing, but that's better than being chafed by my jeans and not being able to do anything about it. Yeah, I know...I'm being weird.

We all have our weird days, though....don't we?

 

[Gypsy]

Did I mention that the imaginary ring symbolizes a committment between myself and Mr. Silent?

Didn't think so.

 

[Gypsy]

Imaginary rings and butterflies in my belly

Ok, Burns.

The ring is imaginary for now, because we haven't seen each other yet. When you spend all the time you spend with a person via the telephone, sometimes you have to do things in your imagination. Even if it's just to be cute, or romantic, or silly. Or all of the above.

I'm going to see him this weekend. He's promised me my own room, and because of that I've finally relented to go. I will make my own mind up when I get there - based on what I feel and what I sense he feels - whether I let him share that room or not. I am excited as hell, I haven't laid eyes on him in over a year and a half. I'm also nervous. Ok, terrified.

Everything that he's ever been evasive about with me, ever, has come to light. I know it isn't easy for him to give me these answers, some of them it has to hurt just to think about it. There is an incredible sense of relief and peace in not only finally knowing the answers (as opposed to guessing 'why' and assuming the worst possible), but knowing he's willing to face me and tell me what I've needed to know - even if it's painful for him. He seems absolutely determined to prove to me beyond doubt that he loves me. I must say, it's pretty convincing.

I am *so* nervous. His best friend will be there, seeing as the main reason the trip was planned in the first place (a year ago) is for hunting. I don't think I'll dislike the man or anything...but I feel this really odd pressure and fear that he won't like me. They've been best friends since school, and I cannot help but feel that it's important that this man approve of me. Not that Mr. Silent would send me packing if he doesn't...but that it would make things quite uncomfy.

When my ex finds out that Mr. Silent is back in my life in any form, life is going to become a very special form of excruciating hell. That makes me nervous, too. Am I ready for this? Am I, really? There are moments when I'm certain I'm ready to face anyone, anything, that I could scream like a panther in warning to any who would oppose me, and take them down just as efficiently should they bar my way to happiness. And there are moments when I cower in fear of what is certain to come. Am I really ready for any of this?

Someone call 911. I am a WRECK.

Gypsy

 

[Gypsy]

damnit

I knew I should have kept my fat mouth shut. The surest way to have plans go awry is to tell anyone about them, which I did. Murphy must have overheard, and called Fate up on the phone. "Hey Fate, guess what? You're not gonna believe this, but that crazy chick actually thinks we're going to let her have an enjoyable reunion weekend with the love of her life! Can you meet me for coffee, so we can think up ways to destroy this?"

First, the people whom the hunt was planned with, the lodge or whatever, the guide guy...they call up the best friend of Mr. Silent and tell him "There's just not many birds to shoot at, you might want to cancel." I'm paraphrasing, but that's the gist of it. Best Friend says "No, there are other plans cooking for while we're down there, we're still going." Ok. Cool. Crisis averted.

Then there's the weather. People keep talking about a 'blizzard' and stuff. Mr. Silent and Best Friend will have to drive through horrible conditions to get here, what a pain, and possibly dangerous. They're coming anyway. His words: "We're coming anyway. I'm not going to let it stop me from seeing you." Ok. Cool. Crisis averted.

So Mr. Silent calls me a little while ago, and tells me that Best Friend's wife is having some kind of test done today, and it's highly possible (50/50, he says) that the trip will have to be canceled due to her medical conditions. He'll find out at around 5 today, and I'll be at work. I'll find out somewhere around midnight whether the trip is still on, or canceled.

I didn't freak out and whine or cry or bitch. How could I? The guy's wife could be in for some serious shit here, and it would be decidedly uncool of me to act selfish and whiny about a trip in the face of that. It doesn't change the fact that my heart sank to my toes, and I do indeed feel a strong urge to cry. I'm repressing that urge, the kids are home on a snow day, and I don't want to explain why I'm bawling. Besides, there might not be a reason to bawl, I just don't know yet.

And I thought I was nervous before. Shit.

I told Mr. Silent that it seems like so many things keep happening, trying to make this trip NOT happen. He interrupted me to tell me he does not believe in omens. Yeah, okay...but still. It's one thing after another, trying to cancel this trip. I have to wonder if there isn't a reason, you know? Like what, I don't know. Like maybe...he isn't divorced yet, and maybe there's potential for the soon to be ex-wife to find out about the 'me' factor that has been added to this trip, and use it against him somehow? Like maybe...it just isn't meant to be?

I want to scream. Instead, I'm carrying on as though nothing out of the way has happened. I'm still going over my packing list, I'm still going to do absolutely everything I was already going to be doing, to get ready. I won't stop doing that unless and until he tells me that he is not going to be here. And, if that happens, I'll see if there's a way to reschedule something so that we can still see each other some time soon.

I keep biting back disappointment, and trying to just roll with the punches, accept things as they happen. If I weren't concentrating hard on doing that, I wouldn't be nearly as calm as I am. It isn't easy to do, though, while it IS easy to picture myself screaming at the walls in frustration. I can't do that, so I won't...but I'm pretty sure I would if I could.

Fate, you need your fickle bitch ass stomped, if this trip doesn't happen. You also need to quit screwing with my head. Sure, it might be amusing to you, but you need to go screw with someone who deserves it.

Damnit.

 

[Gypsy]

The next twist

So, I went to work, and found out that Dave called in sick. I find it amazing that every single time it snows, Dave calls in. This man has more experience driving on snow than the rest of us drivers put together, considering he hails from Pennsylvania and is fiftyish. Anyway. It was a quiet night, so it surprised me that I got 9 deliveries. Andy is back from his missionary trip to South Africa, and I'm betting that Tim is quite happy - he's been having to close for Andy a lot in the last couple of weeks. Andy never asked me to close for Dave tonight, probably because as Aaron was leaving he told me that I was the only driver, and I told him I couldn't close. I'd already promised my daughter I'd pick her up at her dad's by 9:30, and she could come back home to spend the night tonight - her request, since she'll be at her dad's Sunday night instead of with me.

I couldn't get this trip thing out of my mind, all night. I caught Jake looking at me a couple of times, wondering what was wrong with me. He's gotten used to me being full of laughter and jokes, smiles and songs. It was apparent I wasn't in a bitchy mood, nor sick, but...I wasn't myself. I guess it was pretty obvious, but I didn't care. It was just one of those nights where nothing was going to pull me out of my introspection.

I have to admit, I'm perturbed with myself. This kind of thing is exactly why I swore I'd never be in a serious relationship with Mr. Silent again, no matter what. I guess my heart told my brain to go take a flying leap, and my brain said "You betcha. Left or right?" and did exactly that. If things with him had been precisely the same as they'd been before, I think my brain would have easily won. But, they're not. Everything is the same, and yet...it's different. It's better. I told him about something, the other night, that I was positive would make him angry enough, hurt him enough, that he'd hang up on me...and I'd likely never hear from him again. He surprised me. He was hurt, and of that I have no doubt, but he didn't hang up. He asked me why I told him, why I didn't just keep it to myself. "Because, the truth always comes out sooner or later, especially for me. I'm a lousy liar. And if it's going to come out sooner or later, it might as well be now. If you're going to disappear from my life again, because of this...do it NOW. Not later. Now." His response to that? "I'm not going to let this break us up. I love you, and I'm not going to disappear."

I have to tell you, that really surprised me.

Damn, I rambled. Sorry. Back to the trip.

I walked in the door with Alyssa tonight, and checked the caller ID. Sure enough, his cell number was there, although he wasn't due to call until after 11. My heart sank, because I knew it could only mean one thing. I called him back, the first time I'd dialed that particular number. I knew he was at work, and this was the quickest way to get hold of him, but I felt guilty - he was going to be paying more for this call than I was. I had to know, though. The pins and needles were killing me.

Best Friend's wife must have surgery, according to Mr. Silent. I can't remember what he said is wrong, but she needs surgery as soon as possible. The Trip is cancelled. Then he asked me what I thought about another town, in an entirely different state, in the opposite direction. I honestly didn't follow him, at first.

Back up a minute. I think I should clarify that Mr. Silent and I live approximately 9 hours apart, with him to my northeast. Where he and Best Friend were going on their hunting trip is approximately two hours south of me. Now he's asking me what I think of a place four hours to my north. I was stuck so hard in disappointment mode, I honestly just didn't get what he was saying. After about a minute, I finally understood that he wasn't making idle chitchat about some town between us, and he wasn't asking me if I could meet him there some other point in time. He still intends to see me this weekend, if I'm willing to make the drive.

All I could do was sit down on my bed, and smile in shock. His sheer determination to see me this weekend, now that I've finally agreed to meet up with him, keeps right on shocking me. I think he noticed that I wasn't jumping up and down and squealing with delight, and that worried him. I couldn't help it, there are just some things I don't want to say in front of my daughter. Talking openly about my trip this weekend being to see him instead of hanging out with a group of girls is one of them. She knew who I was talking to, so I had to play it really cool. It kind of freaked him out, he was having a hard time gauging my reaction, reading my emotions. "Are you okay? What's wrong? I thought you'd be happy." "I'm fine, I promise."

"I love you, I want to see you, I'm going to find a way to make this work. I'm serious about that. I'm not playing some game."

"I'm starting to figure that out."

"Good, you're a smart girl, I thought you would. Kinda thought you'd have gotten it by now."

"Call me later, when I can talk more freely."

"Okay, I will. Hey...I love you."

"Love you too."

"I mean it."

"Me too."

"Muah!" *click*

 

[Gypsy]

Oh my dear lord...

Please, nothing else go wrong. Please, no other plan changes. Please, just let this happen.

New plans are set, new reservatations are made. Now it's only going to be the two of us, and no sleeping in and being lazy while he's off hunting. Now we're going to be in a different town, a different state. Now there's a hot tub in my room. Now I'm in the Executive Suite. Oh. My. God.

I only wish it could be more than two days. I wish we didn't live so far apart. I wish there weren't so many obstacles to overcome in order to really be together. At the very least, I wish I could think for one minute that we'd be able to do weekend getaways more often than I know they're going to happen.

He told me last night on the phone that he's not nervous, then immediately admitted that he's full of shit about that, he really is. After all, (his words) this is our reunion weekend. We've basically been apart for two years, and for over a year of that, we've been VERY apart, not just geographically, but in our minds, too. He's so excited about seeing me...and I just cannot describe how that makes me feel.

Know what scares me? Well, besides all the stuff about letting my heart really go, about getting too deep and it all disappearing again. Besides the obstacles that stand in our way of truly being together. What really scares me is the fear that we'll see each other, we'll hug, we'll touch...and find out the real magic is gone, that it isn't there anymore. I deadened my heart to him as much as I could, for a long time. Is the magic damaged? I don't think so, but at the same time it hasn't been proven. I guess I'm about to find out.

Excuse me. I must go wax my bikini line, now. Hot tub, you know.

:blush: :love:

 

[Gypsy]

Ouch.

Yeah. Ouchhhhh. But, it's done.

While I was doing this little chore of ripping hair out of my body by the root in small patches, I listened to my Billy Joel cd. It's a 4 cd set, and has pretty much every good song he ever did. The fourth cd is a question/answer/live session, and that's the one I listened to first. It was great. I found myself singing along to Piano Man with the crowd on the cd, at the end, wishing I were there so I could hold up a lit Bic. This man works his crowd wonderfully, everyone smiled, laughed, reminisced, and had an amazing time.

I am so nervous.

I need to take my shower before work, but I'm a little worried that hot water and soap on my newly waxed skin is going to HURT. I did something I've never done before - I saw the directions for waxing your upper lip, and followed them. Now I wish heartily I hadn't. What the hell was I thinking, anyway? Good grief, it's been well over an hour, and it still stings. I have to say, the result is really nice, seriously, I didn't think it would make such a difference. Not that I have a moustache that needs daily shaving or anything, but, you know, there's all those little bitty real light hairs that catch the light, sometimes. Only now they aren't there. It looks good. And now I'm afraid to put makeup on after my shower, for fear my skin will rash or something. I think I'll skip makeup tonight, and only put on a bit of moisturizer. Better safe than sorry, and by tomorrow, it shouldn't be a problem. After all, tons of women do this. Right?

Why am I doing insane things like waxing my upper lip? I've never done that before in my life. Why?

Because I'm in love, that's why. Because I'm going to see the man I love, tomorrow, for the first time in a year and eight months. Because this time, when I see him, I won't have to act like he's just a friend, like we mean nothing more to each other, never have. Because I want to look gorgeous, I want him to look at me and be stunned, and to never forget.

Mr. Silent frequently jokes to me that all women are insane, mostly to get a rise out of me, to wind me up. For some reason, he thinks it's just funny as hell when that happens. Anyway, I have to say, for once I think I agree with him, at least regarding myself. I'm buying clothes and shoes I normally wouldn't allow myself to buy. I'm ripping hair out of my body in very tender and sensitive places, I'm plucking, I'm shaving, I'm obsessing over my appearance in a way that just is not ME.

I am, indeed, insane. I hear they call it 'love'.

Ouch.

 

[Gypsy]

Love, always...

Dear Hippy,

I thought of you last night, as I was packing my bag for my weekend reunion getaway. I don't know what brought you to mind, but I suddenly pictured you standing next to me, smiling. It was kind of a shock, because I hadn't thought of you for so long. No, I hadn't forgotten you, as a matter of fact, sis and I talked about you at Christmas. For my birthday, she gave me a picture that just happened to have you in it, knowing what it would mean to me. I cried, I really did. I hadn't seen your face in years. I do think of you from time to time, but it's usually a provoked thought, you know? Listening to a song from the Journey's Frontiers album can do that. (Remember me driving you nuts with that tape on the way to Florida?) Hearing anything by Hank Williams Jr. will definitely bring you instantly to mind. (A country boy can survive.)

Maybe it's just that I'm packing for a trip, and I'm nervous. I remember our trip together. Do you? We left SC to go down to Florida. You were going to see a new niece, I was tagging along to tie up some loose ends at the old place in Riverview, to just spend a few days away from Mom, to see old friends.

I remember how nervous I was. I mean, I trusted you, I really did. At the same time, I had already become accustomed to having men that I trusted hit on me, and here I was getting in a car with you for a long trip, knowing there'd be an overnight stay in a motel. I wasn't scared of being forced to do anything I didn't want to, good grief, no. But I was so afraid you'd do or say something that would forever mar our friendship, and I know you were laughing at me for watching you out of the corner of my eye. I became exceptionally nervous when I realized you booked one motel room, with two beds. I watched you like a hawk, and I know you knew it. You weren't openly smiling, but I could feel the smile you were hiding. I shut the light off, and lay there in the dark, wondering if you were really going to sleep. An hour and a half later, I finally relaxed enough to fall asleep myself. You were still smiling the next morning when you woke me up to donuts and a Mt. Dew, telling me to get my sleepyhead outta bed, we had miles to put behind us.

After that night, I never worried about you, ever again. I was relaxed and content, and absolutely reveled in our relationship. It was always easygoing and non-judgemental, and you gave me some good advice about guys. Not to mention some free mechanical work on my car. Oh, and thanks for not ever telling me I'm insane for saying my car was making a weird noise that you just couldn't hear. Instead, you got behind the wheel and said "Let's go for a drive." We rode around for half an hour before the noise finally made itself known, but you never looked over at me and told me I was nuts, there was no noise. No, you said "I believe you, Hot Dog. Don't worry, we'll keep driving until I hear it." And you did. As soon as you heard it, you turned to me and said "Well, I think I know what's wrong. Let's head back to the shop." I was so worried that it was something really bad, or really expensive. We got back to the shop, and you didn't even pull into a bay. You just popped the hood, grabbed a couple of tools, and fixed it. I can't even remember now what was wrong, but I remember you telling me that it was all better now, and that it was really good that I'd payed attention to that noise and had it looked at. Left unattended, you'd said, it would have developed into something really serious, really expensive. I could have been stranded with a problem that couldn't have easily been fixed by the side of the road. You told me you were proud of me for not ignoring it like the average teen, for taking care of myself by taking care of my car. You said you wished you could beat that into your daughters' heads, and grinned. You said that since I seemed to travel so much, being married to a marine and all, it was important that I take really good care of my car...and you laughed and teased, and called me your little gypsy hot dog.

I moved away later, joining my husband in NC after spending some time in Oregon. I kept thinking I'd get back and see you again, and I did return twice, for brief visits. Circumstances being what they were the first time, we didn't exactly hang out and argue about our tastes in music and clothes, or talk about muscle cars, though. We were all crying, and I spent time sitting next to you on the couch, sobbing onto your shoulder. Losing Pop was really hard on all of us, and I think I'd be hard pressed to say who was hurting the most. Mom acted like a zombie, and I know she was falling apart inside, but I instinctively knew that she was behaving just a bit more bereaved than she felt. Mom still does that, you know. If there's any valid reason for people to feel sorry for her, she always puts on a show to gain the most sympathy possible, for as long as possible. You and I, though, we sat on the couch, and hugged each other, and smiled through our tears, reminiscing. I had lost the man I called Pop, a man I loved, respected, believed in. You had lost your best friend.

I came back to South Carolina only one time after Pop's funeral, and I went looking for you. By that time, you had a wife and two step daughters around my age. They didn't know me, and they acted kind of strange. They didn't realize or understand our relationship, and your wife acted suspicous of me, so after about half an hour, I left. I was so disappointed not to be able to just relax and chat about anything and everything, the way we always had, you know? I thought maybe I'd go to the shop and hang out with you at work for an hour or so, the next day. I could hand you tools and shoot the breeze for awhile, and get my Hippie fix. As it turned out, we left the next morning, and I didn't get to see you to say goodbye. I wish I had realized at the time that I'd never see you again.

I always asked Mom about you, whenever we'd talk. There for awhile, though, there was some drama going on, and she and I weren't chatting it up in a friendly way. Because of that, I didn't get to ask about you for well over a year. When things finally got to the point that I could ask about old friends and expect an answer, I was shocked and angry when she told me you'd died of a sudden massive heart attack. I was furious with her, for she'd known since the day after you died, and she never told me. She knew you were important to me, and that I considered you family. She had no right not to tell me. You had been gone for going on two years when I found out, and my reaction seemed overdone to a few people. I couldn't help it - to me, you'd only just that moment died. She had told me the news so casually, it was like slamming into a brick wall, for me. So unexpected. I know my eyes widened, my jaw dropped, and I fell to my knees and wept. Only my sister understood, and she held me as I mourned.

I never got the chance to tell you what you meant to me, David. I'll always regret that. I loved you dearly, I respected you. I valued your advice, and I enjoyed our verbal sparring. No one else in the world ever called me a silly name like Hot Dog, or let me call them something like Hippie. You seemed to understand that, while I was in fact married, I was still a seventeen year old kid
caught in that in-between place between silly giggly girl and full womanhood. You let me have my place in the world, when with you. You never demanded that I grow up and act more mature. You never told me I wasn't old enough to think or say or do something. You never rolled your eyes at me for mooning over the picture of my husband that I kept near me at all times, or for writing him five times a day. You made mom forward calls from the house to the party they demanded I go to with them, on New Year's Eve. You knew I was in a panic that I might miss an overseas call from Randy - after all, it was my birthday, and surely he would call. Later that night, you consoled me when I realized that he was not, in fact, going to call me. You saw the pain in my eyes, and instead of rolling your eyes and telling me to just have fun, you said you understood how much I was hurting. And then you reminded me that I was amonst friends, so, I wasn't as alone as I felt. There were people there that cared about me, and wanted me to be happy. You poured me a shot, and one for yourself, and made a toast to me, to my birthday, and to my life. It was just the two of us sitting on that step, and after the toast, you kissed my forehead and said "You do whatever makes you most happy, Hot Dog. If that's joining the party, then there's a party going on that will welcome you. If it's to sit here and cry because you're sad, then that's okay too. Feel what you feel, and I won't let your Mom pester you anymore." How I loved you for that! Permission to feel what I felt, and to act accordingly. I didn't get that much, in life.

You meant a lot to me, Hippie. Your memory means a lot to me. It's not often that two people of such an age difference - a little over 30 years difference - can click so smoothly, care about each other so much, and not actually be family. But then, you always were family, weren't you?

Thank you, for being a part of my life, and for being one of the better parts. You were a calm and caring influence, and one of the best hearted people I've ever known. Your word was solid gold. Honor meant something, to you. You were one in a million, and I still miss you.

Love Always,
your little Gypsy Hot Dog

 

[Gypsy]

Okay, now I'm pissed off.

I had intended to write tonight about my weekend trip. Now I'm just too angry to do that.

Minou, I finally caught up on my journal subscriptions, and had a chance to digest your email. I'm furious. I second everything Sugar-Snit said. I was willing to give the guy the benefit of the doubt, but obviously he was just being a prick. My sincerest apologies for even considering trying to believe the best in someone who obviously didn't deserve it. You have every right to be angry at him. What he did and said was shitty, and you don't deserve that. And don't you dare believe for one second that you're worth one bit less than you are. You know you're worth, and it's damned high.

And OldLady:

Don't you DARE let someone run you off your journal! I don't know who said what to you, but I'm here to tell you, your journal DOES have value, regardless of what one person might think. More than once I've found myself regarding life from a different perspective after reading your posts. Or just plain been cheered up! Don't let one person determine your worth. Just like Minou shouldn't. Would you think to tell her that she should believe what one small minded asshole said about her worth as a girlfriend, and why? I'm guessing the answer to that is "No." So sweetie, do yourself and those of us who really do enjoy your journal a favor. Shoot whomever told you your journal should be retired a BIRD, and carry on. Please. Pretty please.


I'll just have to write about my weekend some other time. Right now, I'm too busy fuming to even think about it.

 

[Gypsy]

A quick note.

I had been writing a post before work when Mr. Silent called, and I just don't have time to finish it. I've saved it, I'll write it tonight or something - right now I have very little time to finish getting ready for work.

I checked my private messages, and I found something there that I wanted to share here. I hope the person who sent this to me doesn't mind my posting it publicly, because I don't have OldLady's email addy, and I can't send her PM's, either. I can only hope she's still reading journals, and still reading mine. This is the only chance I have of communicating this, so I'm taking it. Here it is.

Old Lady / life

Hi,
Agree with you that Old lady should not give up her journal because of some idiots comments. The variety of posts in this place from teens to elders is what makes this such a cool place. I would of course tell her that myself, but she has elected not to receive messages or e-mails.
On the off chance you know her real e-mail addy please pass on to her that even way down in New Zealand there are people who enjoy reading what she writes.
Hope you had a great weekend! Can understand why you are not in the mood to write about it though, after reading Minou's and Old lady's post's I'm not overly happy either.
Bugger.


Oldlady, if you're reading this...please know that I'm not the only one who truly and honestly enjoys your thoughts and musings, your anecdotes, and loves hearing about your darling cats. We're basically ready to sign a petition to keep you posting. Please, don't go.

We just wanted you to know.

Love,
Gypsy

 

[Gypsy]

I will not explain this.

If you get it, you get it. If you don't, that's okay too. Feel free to skip to the next post. When I get around to writing one.




You know....

...you really should just admit it. Really. You know I'm right.

I knew it all along. But then, I already told you that, didn't I?


I always knew. I loved you madly anyway. Just remember that.

I find it ironic that while I loved you first, you loved me second.

But you were the first to say the words "I love you."

And then I fell in love with you.

And I lost you.

And then you found me.

And you knew you loved me.

And you then fell in love.

And this time, you waited for me.


Know what I'm afraid of?

You'll wake up one day, and you'll realize...
it really was only rebound, after all.

And if I hold myself right where I am
If I wait
Then when it happens, when the time comes,
I can make it.
I can take it.
It'll hurt like hell, but I'll be okay.

But if I let go
If I lose my grip on reality
If I lose my grip on the truth
I'll fall the rest of the way in

And then you'll wake up that day
And you'll know.
And it'll go on
but it'll be all wrong
I'll feel it
You'll know it
But we'll deny
And instead of it dying
the way it is now -
full, strong, and at peace -
it'll dwindle into something sad
and pathetic, lonely and dead.

And there'll be nothing left good to hold onto.
The good that I hold in my hands right now.
The good that I hold in my heart.
The heart that no longer hurts
The heart that knows the answers
The heart that has found peace
and a momentary respite from pain.

I can love you here, and it doesn't hurt.
Not like that.
Not the sting of rejection that is especially sharp
because I was given no place to live in your heart
because I didn't even merit a shelf with my name on it

That sting is gone, and I relish the emptiness -
however brief -
from the agony that I buried so deep inside myself
that I nearly managed to lose it
and thereby lose myself
trying to find it
to name it
and to set it free

I remember a love
a love so deep, so strong, so simple
so incredibly intoxicating
and it lasted but a moment
I know you felt it
and I know you know
and that you remember when.
It was like a bolt of electricity
and it scared you so much.
I felt the fear like ice
And I felt you feel me feel the ice.
And you slammed the door in fear
fear because you knew
you knew the choice you'd make
and you knew
you felt me inside your head
you felt me inside your heart
and you knew that I knew
what you knew.

This time, that choice is absent for you
and the pain remains.
The pain of slamming the door
The pain of knowing what you had to do
The pain of throwing away what felt right
before you even let it breathe.

You killed it. You know you killed it.
Only thing is...
you let it die slow
and you did not bury it
You did not say the words over the grave


It wasn't that you'd decided to do what you felt was right
Yes, that hurt. It hurt a lot.
But the other...the total shutdown...
That's what nearly did me in.

And this time you promise
that if I decide that the best thing for me
is not you
and I let go
You'll still be there.
If all I can be is friends
Then you'll still be there
and you'll be the best damned friend
I ever had.

My great wish
My forlorn hope
gifted to me at last

You know what I want
what I think, what I feel
what I fear.
What I want...

You reach to give me everything, and all that I need
And yet...

I'm so scared. I'm so scared.

I am so scared.

Where are you?

 

[Gypsy]

What a gorgeous day

I woke this morning to the alarm clock, against my will. Five seconds later, I realized that even before waking, I was already thinking about Mr. Silent. I tried in vain to go back to sleep, thinking of him the whole time. I was lying there considering calling him just to say good morning and to tell him I was thinking of him, when the phone rang. Guess who?

Now that I'm off the phone and on the 'net, I find that OldLady is back, and I couldn't be more pleased. God bless your husband, OldLady. He's a wise man. And you're a wise woman. I said it in a PM and I'll say it again - I'm truly glad you told her to kiss your ass. You go, girl! Don't take no shit offa nobody!

And then there's the PM I got from SeaMonkey, which led me to look up posts she's made. What an amusing thread, over in the Off Topic Forum! *grin* I was already smiling, and now the smile is even bigger. I think I'm probably gonna get a really big kick out of you, SeaMonkey. You can be sure I'll be watching for updates to your journal.

No_Key_Bandit, you still make me blush when you talk about my journal. Not that I'm complaining - I'm not. As a matter of fact, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside that you still think it's good enough to mention to other people, you know? I'd like to mention here that I wish you'd get back to more regular posting, yourself. I feel very deprived. I know you're busy, but knowing that doesn't make me miss the posts, the PM's, or the emails any less. Miss ya, buddy.

So, here I am. Folks, I don't have a clue how in the name of all that's holy I'm ever going to find a way to get out of this town and state with my kids. I tried before, and I failed miserably. I don't have any idea whatsoever how I'm going to make this situation work so that I can go back to Indiana and make a new life with the man I love. I only know that somehow, I have to try.

I have never felt so loved, so adored, so wanted in all my life. Ever. And I'm starting to believe it just might not be a temporary thing, this love that he feels for me. He keeps giving me all these reasons why he loves me, why he thinks I'm cool as hell, why he wants to spend the rest of his life coming home to me at the end of the day. I can hear it in his voice, in his words, I can feel it in his touch when we're together - he means it. He really does.

I am in awe.

 

[Gypsy]

You know, I find it rather interesting...

Remember all those nights I sighed and waited, wishing Dodge would call? Well, guess what number was on my caller ID when I returned from my weekend away? Dodge's work number, that's what. Not his home number, and not a number I could call him back at. He hasn't called since.

I wonder what he wanted?

Thinking about that has given me pause, just a bit. I mean, I've been through a helluva lot because of my relationship with Mr. Silent. Thing is, a lot of the obstacle that was there before is *still* there. I can't leave this town without some kind of special occurence allowing it - such as finding myself in a situation where I have a case the judge will even look at, or the ex suddenly feeling all charitable or something and letting me take the kids and go. All this (and more) is mainly why I hold back where Mr. Silent is concerned. I don't fear him throwing our relationship away (anymore) nearly as much as I fear it will die a slow and agonizing death while we wait for something to happen that will allow us to be together.

When I saw Dodge had called, I wondered if it was a sign. Does anyone remember the dream I posted, way back when, about the fires? I look around myself (symbolically speaking) and I see where I am in the dream. I realize that Mr. Silent is the strawberry blonde headed man working on the car at the top of the hill. He wants me to give him something for old time's sake, he wants me to come back. I feel the presence trying to hold me there with him, and I feel myself pulling away hard. In the dream, after I pulled away from the man fixing the car at the side of the road, I wandered on alone, content...and then suddenly realized just how alone I really was. The presence that had been with me was gone, and I sensed something waiting for me around the bend in the road. I couldn't sense what it was, only that it was there, it knew I was coming, and it was waiting for me. I closed my eyes in fear, and just as I came to the conclusion that I had to see no matter how scared I was, and began opening my eyes...I woke up. I never found out what was waiting for me, whether it was friend or foe, relief or pain. Or just one more obstacle.

I wonder if I'm supposed to follow the direction of the dream, or if it's a warning that if I leave the man by the road, I'll end up alone and afraid?

Anyway, back to Dodge.

Yeah, I wonder what made him call after all this time? Am I supposed to try to reach him, somehow? Likely not, he didn't leave a message. Unless he's wondering whether just knowing he tried to call is enough for me to track him down, thereby proving real interest. It's weird. I wonder if I'll ever understand what men think?

So, today around three times or so I've asked myself (in a prayerful sort of way) what I'm supposed to do. If there is a path I'm supposed to walk down, I'm at a loss as to which fork to take. I see the pros and cons of both just letting this situation alone and staying here, telling Mr. Silent to go away...and of actually moving to Indiana and spending the rest of my life being treated like an adored queen. Hmmm. I notice there's nothing in all that about the time between now and a northward move. Who knows how long it could take. Months? Years? How much pain will have to be endured?

Every time I said out loud today "I need a sign as to what I'm supposed to do, here", something broke. I'm not kidding, something has broken each time I did that, today.

The first time I said I needed a sign as to what I should do, my monitor started seriously flipping out. (I think the damned thing is dying a slow and horrible death.) The second time, I knocked a jar of grape jelly off the shelf in my pantry - a jar I had only 30 seconds before moved to another spot to keep from knocking it off. I cleaned up the mess and went on. The third time was tonight, while I was at work. I had had three deliveries, and was about a block away from the last one, on my way back to the store. My car was acting weird, the 'you're not wearing your seatbelt' warning ding kept giving off a single warning ding. My clock kept going off then coming back on. My turn signals were blinking too slowly. The dashlights just weren't as bright as they should be. And then the car died at a stop sign.

I let it sit there for several minutes, and got on the cb. I got a local guy to call up the store and tell them what was happening, so they'd know I couldn't make it straight back in. The car finally started, and I took off for the store as fast as I could go. I wasn't fast enough, though - it died at a stoplight on the highway. I was nearly rear-ended many times over, and I'm still trying to unclench my sphincter. Anyway, I was stuck there for several minutes before a stranger got out of his truck and offered to help me push the car out of the driving lane. I asked him if he'd just give me a jump, instead. He asked, and I told him I had jumper cables in the trunk. As soon as the cables were in place, I turned the key - and the car started right up.

So, guess what I'm doing tomorrow morning? Fucking Dy Nasty. Sometimes I'd really like to choke the mechanic who said that phrase to me. "What kind of car did you buy?" A Dodge Dynasty. "Ewwww....a Die Nasty!" Damnit dude, don't say shit like that! "You'll see....you'll see." Ugh.

Anyway, I'm sure there's some kind of omen in all this, really. If I think about it hard enough, I'm positive there's some kind of cosmic message in it all. Right now, I'm too damned sleepy to care, though. I'm going to bed.

As soon as I smoke this cigarrette.