A Tommy...

And so it began.

I didn't take him seriously at first. He wasn't the first guy to develop a little attachment to me... I make a great friend. I'm a good listener and I take an interest in what the other person has to say. "Something" comes up and things don't work out in the way the guy hopes, and I'm still a good friend.

See, for all my big talk in this blog about being ready to date, I don't think I was. I had the on-again/off-again thing with Kirk because I KNEW he'd never commit. Even if, on the very off chance he decided he wanted to commit, I knew for him it was too hard. It was too much work. He'd lay it off on the tragedies of fate and I'd be off scot-free. Was I attached to Kirk? Yes, very... but the future I hoped for had no grounding in reality... and I knew that.

So, with Tommy, I sort of sat back and waited for the inevitable "thing" that would make this flirting ease into friendship. The "thing" might be different values, me refusing to budge on an issue, or putting up a wall so high he'd never get over or around it. I pulled out all the stops I had stored up.

Tommy team-drives a semi with his partner, Scooter. They're out for 4-6 weeks at a time, then off the road for 4-6 days. He drives the day shift, so for the bulk of the day he's under the wheel (driving) and can't check text messages and communicate through Facebook chat as we had been. He gave me his number and I wouldn't call it, and I didn't offer mine. I gave in after a couple days, and suddenly we were talking all the time, on the 45 minute drive to work, on the drive home, while I was cooking dinner, any time the girls were busy.

On the Road Again...

I insisted if we were going to keep talking, it had to be no sugar-coating, no punches pulled... and I confronted him about everything... not even politely. If he downplayed anything, I called him on it.(At one point he laughed, "Dang! Are you this blunt about everything?")

I was blessed with being a good listener, but thanks to my job I've learned how to listen with intent: for discrepancies, inconsistencies, for any indications of a value system out-of-line with mine. I lobbed tests at him, presented scenarios in which the most obvious choices were self-preservation and the easy way out. He never chose the easy way, he always chose treating people the way he'd want to be treated, doing the right thing over the easy thing. I noticed his own stories from his own life reflected the same values.

Tommy made me laugh... I mean so hard I'd have tears in my eyes and be unable to talk. He was quick without being crass. I left him wide open to be disrespectful, and he never once crossed the line. He seemed to like me better for having boundaries. He never made a secret of his attraction to me, but if the conversation got close to innuendo, he'd change the subject. Immediately. Repeatedly. So I resorted to my big gun...

I talked about Deat. A lot. I mean a lot. Anyone who knows me knows my face and my voice still light up when I mention Deat. Tommy never flinched. He still doesn't. He says he's glad I was blessed to have someone who made me so happy. We made plans to see each other when he came in. He booked a hotel here in town.

I was a little nervous that first Saturday of August when Tommy came over early for coffee. Within five minutes it was like he belonged on the stool across from me. I made breakfast... he mowed my yard (with a push mower, and it was a JUNGLE.) He grabbed a shower then we spent the day doing mundane things: ran errands; cooked supper, took B.B. out so she could dance at half-time at a local football event.

And we laughed. And laughed some more. Somewhere between sipping coffee from my new Route 66 (from the REAL Route 66!) mug, and sitting on bleachers texting each other at the game, I was hooked.

Remember those jokes about hitting on me? They went on for a while... I asked him one day not long before his first visit to "come clean" about "whatever this is" between us. Tommy said it didn't need a "name" on it... by the time we found a name to put on it we would likely have already been committed to each other for some time. And so it is.

As time went on I realized, I had not imagined ever feeling this way again, or that there would come a time when someone would feel the way he does about me. I keep waiting for the "dopamine" to wear off, but the phone rings or the text dings and that grin crosses my face before I can stop myself. Everybody around me needs insulin...

So we're trying not to put expectations or time-tables on it, to just trust God to help us make good decisions and let us know when it's His time to move and do something new. I can say with certainty I feel His hand on it; every time I doubt that, God provides evidence to ease my fears.  And we're both learning new lessons as we go: healing from the past, a little dreaming about what could be the future, sometimes reminding each other to keep it in today.

So, if I actually get busy and start keeping up with this blog again, the tall guy who keeps showing up? That's Tommy.

Be nice. I kinda like this one.

Someone...

Facebook is an interesting thing. Different people follow different rules of Facebook friendship. I make sure I have a connection before I accept a request, but sometimes those connections weren't born in a close relationship pre-Facebook.

My next older and younger sisters are within 14 months of me on either side. My older sister and I were in the same grade. While we had different friends growing up, we were also something of a package deal; if you're a good friend to one of us you're a friend to all three. My older sister doesn't have a Facebook account; my younger one rarely checks hers. Many of their friends "friended" me in an effort to check on them... and so it was with that guy from high school, Tommy.

Three years ago Tommy sent me a friend request and then a note asking how Jeannie was doing, saying he noticed that he and I commented on a lot of the same posts from mutual friends. I remembered who he was... the guy with the jean jacket who bounced down the halls at school. I replied that I had noticed the similar comments, and did the traditional page creep: married, kids, working in sales... I noticed he seemed very devoted to his family. We got in touch one more time in March of 2014 when I noticed he had some phones for sale. 

He was one of those fringe Facebook friends: you "kind-of" know how their life is going; you "like" and laugh at their jokes; you don't know their day-to-day, but sometimes notice a big life change. That came in the fall of last year. I noticed some unhappy posts and the relationship change (divorced). I remember being surprised because he had seemed so devoted. Some of his posts seemed so sad, I kinda hoped from my "distance" that things would work out. Over time he appeared to be moving forward.. spring time brought new pictures with a new girl... life goes on.

Then one Friday night in early July I was scrolling Facebook and saw a post he made about his memories of his five year-old daughter; she died in a car accident 14 years ago. I messaged him just to say I didn't know he had gone through such a loss and to offer my condolences. My phone dinged about an hour later with his response. He shared he had not only lost his daughter, but his wife at the time as well. He and his son (6 at the time) had spent the next few months in a rehabilitation hospital.

For the next two hours we messaged back and forth, mostly about our experiences; with grief, with faith gained and with faith lost. Others can offer condolences, but there's a unique bond with people who've experienced these kinds of losses. Tommy says we understand what other people just don't. I remember thinking, in spite of the subject, he was pretty funny, and I knew then we'd end up being close friends. I wasn't quite picking up on how close.

The next day as I was finishing supper and checking Facebook, this message came through:

All-righy then!

So since I was already online, I answered:

And then:

Tommy still swears he wasn't lying... but he was.

And we were off to the races again, talking about everything under the sun.

Part 3 coming soon!

Catching up... (and then, God sent..)

Achoo! 

Boy the dust collects around here when I've been gone too long. The past nine months have flown by. But it's been so long since I've been here, maybe I need to review things I've already told you.

Remember back in May 2010  when I said I was afraid I'd quit blogging when I became a counselor? Um, didn't mean for that to happen. Still wary of having a client find this, but not so much that I won't come out and say what I do anymore: I work with people with substance abuse issues. I counsel primarily from a 12 step perspective. Learning the steps and principles, and working to LIVE them, has made a profound difference in my life. My clients are some of the finest people I know, and I learn from them every day.

And remember in April 2011 when I announced I was ready to start dating again? Hoo boy... And all the vague/not vague references to Kirk? (too many links, you'd have to search him). I didn't even tell you guys most of what went on because I knew it wasn't healthy. I cant blame him entirely, I found uglier sides of me in whatever-that-was. Even though the (relationship? odd attachment? delusion?) primarily consisted of long-distance phone calls, it took me forever to set that boundary... then reset it... then reset it again after I allowed him to cross it yet again. God finally brought someone else into his life last October; his "need" for me ended.

I had been gaining weight; I gained all the weight I lost with Weight Watchers back. The idea of being attractive to someone seemed far-fetched; even more far-fetched was the idea I could be attracted to anyone. I  got okay with that, however. I had important things to concern myself with: the recovery journeys of my clients, my own children's lives, focusing on changing the one thing I could change: myself and what I needed to do to be the best counselor, mother and friend I could be. I found my own counselor and went to work on myself.

Page 68 in the AA Big Book says, "We are in the world to play the role He assigns. Just to the extent that we do as we believe He would have us, and humbly rely on Him, does he enable us to match calamity with serenity." I tried to apply that every day. Things starting working again. My serenity was returning.

Then, one night this past July...

to be continued

What I Been Done Gone Doing

Well, okay, part of it is just I got lazy, so there. The other part is a little bit of self/client preservation. I've been dying to tell you about my job, and just didn't know how.

Remember back when that guy found me and I freaked out and cleaned up the blog and took down anything that identified me outside of my picture and email? If you notice in the comments of that post, another person who also counsels people commented about professional concerns... which at the time was not the issue.

Well, it kind of is, now, for more than one reason.

Reason number one for avoiding writing was actually more to protect the people who see me professionally. I love my job. I mean, I LOVE my job. Some (not all, but some) of the funniest, most fascinating and poignant things that happen in my life these days happen in my office. I can't tell these stories now; they're too new, too fresh, too relevant to the people who make up my caseload. I don't want to take a chance that one of them could be identified by someone who knows me and also happens to know the client. It's a small town. 

The second reason is concern that one of the people I see for work might find this blog. I think it just makes the lines a little too blurry. It's taken many months to try to figure out how to tell my readers what my job actually is without immediately creating a veritable Google hot spot for the population I serve. I'm keenly aware of how search engines find me. If you are finding this post somewhat enigmatic, it's supposed to be, I'm trying to avoid keywords.

I think I've finally figured out how to clarify my occupation, but hopefully fly under the search engine radar.

I started out as something of an assistant but I am now responsible for my own caseload in a town near where I live. My clients have issues with items that create false states of well-being, of emotion, and/or of reality. Most of them come to me through the strenuous suggestions of the judiciary. The company I work for contracts with the judiciary for the services I provide.

Hopefully, that was clear. As mud. At least for the search engines.

Hopefully I can find ways to tell you how much I love my job without telling too much.

Hopefully, God will use me to help Him make a positive difference in my clients' lives. I know He's used them to make positive differences in mine.

Hopefully. :-)

Nerds

I decided to get in touch with my inner nerd. My true self. The one I hid in high school by avoiding anything that didn't seem cool. I decided to start with the basics.

So as I type this, I'm watching TNG (Google it) and fighting the urge to send a text to Blog Kirk and ask him why the guys in Shuttle Bay II didn't get sucked out the great big door when it opened. Shouldn't they have brought the shuttle in, closed the door and then done some kinda vapor lock thingy before they went in there?  And did Picard just kill himself from another dimension?

"Ooooh, I HATE when one of my crew gets sucked out into space!"

A few weeks ago, Kirk and I had dinner at a chinese place. We were discussing Bones McCoy. Kirk (the blog Kirk, not the real one) said Bones had been married at one time and had a daughter.

Me: "No way! I'm almost done with Season 3 and Bones just got done saying how he's almost always been lonely!"

Blog Kirk: "He does."

"There is no way Bones would go gallivanting all over space if he had a daughter waiting on some planet."

"It may be from one of the Star Trek books, but I'm sure he does."

"Did Gene Roddenberry write it?"

"No."

(As I got up to go back to the buffet) "Then it ain't cannon."*

(Somebody help me, did that REALLY come out of my mouth?)

So, um, yeah. I'm a nerd.

I think everyone around me already knew it, even from way back in high school. Still, I avoided science fiction like the plague lest someone suspect. I appreciate those of you from back in the day, for letting me hang on to my illusion of cool... My fragile ego couldn't have stood knowing that you knew.

So thanks to you all,  but that facade?

I don't need it anymore.


* You can look up what that means, too. If you already know, you might be as nerdy as me.
Oh, and the truth is, I wrote this one weeks ago, just forgot to finish and post it. I'm well into DS9, now.

Five Years In

Five years.

Deat died five years ago, February 23, 2008.

In some ways, it doesn't seem so far in the past. When I look at what's changed between then and now, it seems like a long, long time. P.D. and B.B. aren't 6 and 2 years old anymore; they're 11 and 7. My youngest is older, now, than my oldest was, then. 

I've been building up toward this post for several weeks; unsure of what I wanted to say but sure that I needed to say SOMETHING. I decided to include an inventory similar to one I've used with clients to see if those ideas lead somewhere interesting. They did for a bit, but it still took me 3 more days to finally finish.

Family - Deat and I hoped to foster a sense of "all for one and one for all" in our family culture. It's hard to be objective, but I like to think of us as a tight little team. I think the girls understand that we depend on each other, and we each have to contribute to make this thing run smoothly. I think in some ways the adversity probably bonded us a bit tighter from necessity. I will admit, I still wish the girls' had the benefit of Deat's life perspective to compare and contrast with mine as they decide for themselves where their values and priorities lie. Luckily, I have a pretty good memory and share as much of who he was with them as I can.

As for extended family, My parents and siblings still live in or near P-town, Deat's are still in J-town, and all of them are still my family. Sometimes folks are surprised to learn I have a close relationship with Deat's parents and his brother and family. It's hard for me to imagine the kind of pain it would be to lose them, too.

Friendships and Leisure Activities - In my married life: Deat was my very best friend; Sabrina filled most any of the gaps in between... not to mention that the girls were small and there just wasn't room or time for outside socializing.

Five years later: Over time, God has blessed us with a tight support network of friends to hang with. In just the past year we've been to several cookouts, taken a group trip to the Knoxville Zoo, a group trip to the aquarium in Gatlinburg, went to and hosted Christmas parties, hosted a five-family yard sale, had several get-togethers with just the Ladies and other get-togethers for the whole families, both here and at others' homes, had overnight guests from out of town twice, had  Theatre Babies coming over for dinner, participated and performed in a few plays.

The common theme of all these activities?  Lots of love and laughter. I can't imagine being more blessed than we are.

Health/Exercise - See previous post

Work/Career/Education - Big changes there. In February 2008 I was in my 9th year as a membership representative for the nation's largest small business lobby. I signed up new members through cold calling; renewed existing members through delivery of an annual progress report. I had a large territory that extended into several counties. And I soon realized I had no more desire to get out of the truck and actually DO my job than the man in the moon.

Part of the problem was that I traditionally gave a very folksy pitch that included anecdotes about the things my husband would say. I didn't know how to adjust it to take Deat out of it. Add to that plain old grief and situational depression; I didn't have much desire to talk to anyone; much less about the politics that were often of more interest to Deat than to me.

I realized part of the reason I loved the job was because I "shared" it with Deat: I just didn't want to do it anymore, but had no idea what I could do. So God told me. In January of 2010, I returned to school, and in 2012 I finished my M.Ed. in Counseling and Human Development.

Today I am a licensed counseling associate working for an agency. Interesting that I left my old job in part because I shared so much of my own life in it, and moved to a job where my experiences help me to relate to my clients, but the less I discuss my own life, the better.

Most important lesson of late: Empathy does not mean putting MYSELF in the client's shoes; I know how I think and it's unlikely that the client thinks the way I do. Empathy is closer to understanding how my client feels about the shoes he or she is wearing.

With that in mind, I do want to share a bit about the shoes I wear and what they mean to me:

1. I am not broken and I don't want to be treated that way. I've moved through the worst of my grief. If anything, I'm less vulnerable: Very little about the future scares me anymore. The worst thing I could imagine happening, happened, but I survived it. I'm here, my girls are here, and we're okay.

Am I the same person I was five, six years ago? No. I wasn't the same person, in 2008 that I had been in 2003, either. If I seem quirky and strange, well, believe it or not, I was quirky and strange before I became a widow, before I became a wife. T.L. can attest to that.

2. My life doesn't need "fixing." I don't need a husband. I don't need a boyfriend. I don't need a shoulder to cry on. I don't need a substitute father for my girls. If I need help, I ask for it. Our gang of friends includes some really fantastic examples of upstanding faith-filled men who look out for us. I also have an awesome brother and brothers-in-law. I have plenty of models to help me show the girls how a good man conducts himself so they'll know when they're old enough to start evaluating their own potential suitors. (And with that bunch of fellas looking out for my girls, I feel sorry for the first guy to come calling!)

For me, I'm not saying I'm opposed to a romantic relationship. I'm clarifying: if I do have a man in my life, it will be because I allow him to be, not because I need him to save me from the life I have. Right at the moment, I don't see a great deal of free time to pursue such a relationship, but if I did find room, let me add a warning: if I complain, don't try to fix it, try listening... that's probably all I want.

3: I see myself as blessed. And that's how I want you to see me. Don't cry for me for the loss of my husband; rejoice with me that I had the privilege to be his wife. I got to be married to the greatest guy I ever knew for almost 9 years, and I have the wonderful second family he left me, as well as two beautiful girls to carry on his legacy. Why would you feel sorry for that? My challenges of the past  five years weren't/aren't greater or lesser than yours. They were/are just different.

Finally, I won't pretend that I was Miss Strong and Brave all the time. There were periods in there that were truly horrible, and feelings I hope I never experience again. Do I still miss Deat and wish he were here? Without question. Little things can still bring fresh pain. That said, as time goes on, it does get more bearable, and easier to live with.

At some point the "new" normal stops being the new normal, and without fanfare, it becomes simply, THE normal. The resentment of not living the life you had planned gives way to acceptance of the blessings in the life you still have.

To paraphrase the reminder plaque our beloved neighbor, Miss G. (also widowed), plunked down on my end table on a day when I came to her crying and struggling:

"It's (still) a wonderful life!"

But Then I'd Have to Kill Ya...

So I lied. Sue me. (Um, that's figurative. I mean, you could sue me, but I just recently got the first full-time job I've had in the last 3 years... flush with cash, I ain't.)

What did I lie about? I said I'd tell you about my new job. But I won't. Much. If at all.

This is hard for me. I'm really a fairly wide-open person in real life as well as on here. I spent a great deal of time weighing the pros and cons. The problem is my profession.

Yes, I'm still a counselor. A bona fide got-the-master's, got-the-preliminary-license counselor... yaay me! Some of you virtually walked the road to reach this point with me.

I can tell you that on the day of my interview for this job, I overslept. WAY overslept. I had to go meet the MC (my former boss and internship supervisor) at a restaurant to pick up a reference letter to take with me... so I had to go meet with him and on to my interview with only a quick clean up and no shower. As I explained to the MC, in my efforts to set my alarm a little earlier to give myself MORE time to get ready the night before, I somehow didn't manage to get the alarm turned back on.

The MC: Do they know about that gun you carry?

Me: What gun?

The MC: That one you're always shooting yourself in the foot with...

AHEM!

As for the blog, the concern lies in all that professional counseling entails. One of the backbones of counseling is confidentiality. Most of my readers are personal friends; they know me, and generally know where I live. Luckily, in my previous job, I didn't work in the same town where I lived... and NONE of my friends know/knew the MC. (He made great blog fodder, who needed to talk about clients?) In my new position, in this community, if I named my employer and/or told stories about my clients, I would risk exposing the private information entrusted to me. I can't do that.

Counselors also have strive to keep the sessions and the relationship focused on the client, not on the counselor. Self-disclosure can have value, but only if it enhances the client's understanding. If the disclosure does not serve a definite purpose, it should be avoided. I am in the helping relationship to provide a service to the client, not to make a friend or be a friend; not to serve my own interests or open up my life for comparative scrutiny. My clients don't need to concern themselves with the happenings in my life.

A little over a year ago, someone Googled some basic information about me and found this blog. With the above principles in mind, I went through and removed as much identifying information as I could. While my blog is open to the public, it's not as widely read as I had hoped it would be. For my purposes as a counselor, this is good news. The odds that one of my clients would stumble upon my blog are fairly slim. I need to keep it that way as much as I can.

So, I won't be talking about work, much. If I can tell you a story and keep the other interests securely protected, I might, but I just don't envision that happening. Unless, I get an oddly fascinating and amusing co-worker.

Maybe I should see if the MC wants to come work at this new place, too.

I Got My Chance, and I Said Those Things... Still...

I started a new job yesterday. I'm pleased about it... my first REAL position after grad-school and licensure and all that... I'll share more with you about it after I get more settled.

This morning I drove down to our B-burg office. The weather was beautiful on that twisty little trail, with the sun peeking though the trees. I drove that road fairly often in the "before" days, before I left sales, before I lost my drive to sell, before the whole world changed. I smiled, remembering.

Then, this song came through the radio. Actually a pretty good driving/singing song:

Stop reading, just listen a minute, please.

I love this song. I sang along.

Then I remembered: I could never get through it without tears. I've tried four times today... still can't.

I don't know when the song actually came out. I first took note of it about 6 months after Deat's death.

Did I say...

It isn't even appropriate; I've always been comforted in knowing we  had nothing left unsaid.

Maybe its the futility of those words now. Did I say... Maybe it's that I'll never get to say them to him again... Did I say... though when I hear them in the song they're just as true now as they ever were.

Did I say...

I certainly didn't expect the song to impact me that way, today. It's been almost five years.

Maybe for all my bravado about starting to date, part of me still scowls, and sees futility in that: I know what combination of traits once brought me joy and met my needs, is it possible that different one could even begin to come close?

I don't know. Hiding out at home hasn't done much for me. We'll see.

But I sure do miss the one I had.

Perhaps I just needed to know, or just say out loud, that I always will.

Hedgehog Harassment

Today's post is something new to JKH, a Facebook-Text Message-Drawing media extravaganza, with very little actual writing on my part.

Warning: this post will be difficult to view on a phone.

I only want to record a fraction of the campaign waged against me and my wishes. If I give in, you'll know I made a valiant effort against the tide... I say "only a fraction" because I could only screenshot my text messages with Danny back to the 13th...

It started innocently enough...

Thursday January 10
Mode: Facebook

Friday & Saturday, January 11 & 12

Filly can attest, I got numerous harassing texts on Friday... mostly referring to a hedgehog as a "little precious" à la Gollum. (Important later) Saturday was so crazy I don't think either of the Hedgehog team was on task.

Sunday, January 13

Mode: Facebook

The actual video is below... and yeah, the little sucker IS indescribably cute. (be strong, be strong...)

Monday, January 14

Mode: Text

And on Facebook: 

She's either gonna be a salesperson, a lawyer or a carnival barker...

Tuesday, January 15

Mode: Text Messaging

(For reference, see "Pre-Teen Titan")

Mode: HOMEWORK?

And fnally, the pièce de résistance also happened to fall in the correct order chronologically. P.D. brought home her most recent English assignment yesterday evening, an illustrated poem.

Haiku de Hedgehog

Cold Hedgehog in sock

Hiding, waiting for snow's end

Shivering, sleepy

That Just Ain't Right

More catch ups to do for my regular readers... luckily, for readers/friends who already know these "catch up" stories, I may or may not have some new stuff to tie it up in.

Back when I started this blog, I imagined that by this far out, (almost 5 years), I would  either:

a.) Be so entrenched in new-life stuff, the significance of my widowhood would be a faint memory or
b.) Still be so paralyzed by grief I wouldn't get out at all, or ever again. (the idea of the "b." option usually coincided with "One of Those Nights".)

Neither extreme is true. Deat's death, but moreso, his LIFE, still colors my perspective in a myriad of ways. That's okay, both for my life and within the context of this blog. I still hold out the hope that if another widow or widower reads this blog, she or he might find comfort in the kinship of experience. Fewer posts are based around issues of widowhood, but that's okay. It shows that life does go on.

All that said, time to do a catch up and broach a significant topic in widowhood: 

I  WENT  OUT  ON  A  DATE! 

(Err... at least I thought I did). Let me back up and explain.

One of the blessings Deat left me was his friends: not only the ones I knew well but the ones I didn't know at all. One of the latter was a lady from his college days named Georganna. She and I have yet to lay eyes on one another. We "met" on Facebook and through our mutual love for Deat, just kinda "adopted" one another. She's kind, generous with her time and resources, and fantastically funny. 

Back at the beginning of November, George and I were Facebook chatting about the dating scene and how our married friends wanted to see each of us attached to a good man... without considering the lack of acceptable, eligible men asking us out...

Me: LOL! Some of my friends were lecturing me on how I need to date.

I asked them if they knew anyone they liked well enough to set me up with, they said no... 

I said "I rest my case"

George: EXACTLY

wait...

wait...

How old are you?


At this point, I realize what's going on, and I nearly swallow my non-nicotine, but, up until that point in the conversation, relatively-comforting, gum.

Info from George: His name is Danny and he lives RIGHT HERE NEAR ME... He's a great guy... He doesn't have kids but he's great with kids... He's a Great Guy... He's younger than me... He's a GREAT GUY... She used to date him but the distance was just too much so now they're just good friends... HE'S A GREAT GUY...

George: Girl, I called him, I'm on the phone with him right now.

I coughed so hard I spit my non-nicotine and not-even-a-little-comforting-anymore gum across the room.

After some more back-and-forth with George, he and I "friended" one another on Facebook and had a short  instant-message (IM) conversation... mostly about the stuff we were seeing on one another's pages.

The following day (a Friday) at about 6, Danny said hello again via IM. After a few minutes, he suggested we meet.

Danny: Are you free later? Maybe for a game of pool? Tho, I'm sure you will win lol
Nothing major.....just to hang out for a few... if you don't wanna, I understand. No pressure. 

(Nice, considerate invitation, right?)

Me: Geez, I would love to, but I don't have a babysitter!

(Farther along in the conversation)

Danny: "A" for effort, that was you TRYING to trash talk...  When we play, I'll only use half a Q & still win. 

Me: In. your. dreams.

Danny: Lol... We'll play 8 ball, I'll spot you 5 balls.... That way I might get a challenge out of you.

Me: (Dialing babysitter)

Danny: See, trash talk

Me: Son, I will roll over you like a Mack Truck

Danny: Awe....I'll roll over alright, roll over n let you win.

Me: Oh, and you ain't gotta spot me a dang thing! Do you KNOW who you're talking to?

The guy barely knew me, but already knew me: if you really want to get me out of the house, get my dander up. We met at the local bowling alley, the only place I could think of with pool tables.

How did it go? Let's just say I didn't use the rack much that night. I considered not telling how it went, to spare Danny any FURTHER embarrassment... but I think it's a good lesson:  don't knock my game, dude.

After Danny got tired of getting beat we got tired of playing, he suggested we go eat. By that time, I felt comfortable with him so I left my car at the bowling alley and rode with him. I ate dinner earlier with the girls so I had a milkshake while he ate. (Yes, it was within my Weight Watchers points... well, sort of...).

We talked, and talked, and talked and talked. (He would say I did, but he'd be lying. He helped. A LOT.) I tried not to talk  about Deat too much, but Danny seemed completely comfortable even when I did mention him. We talked about how, from experience, I felt that "friends-first" made the best relationships. We talked a lot about faith and trying to follow the Bible... and how those issues come into play when dating. (On the mental list of what I want, a man who loves God, CHECK!) 

I really, really enjoyed myself. When we got back to my car, he walked me to it and gave me a hug goodbye.

Whew! Yes, I've been out a few other times since Deat's death... I'd been kissed.  But, I'd known 2 of them for about 20 years each and the other one for at least 6 years. The idea of kissing somebody REALLY NEW kinda freaked me out.

A couple nights later,  I was back at the bowling alley, playing pool with the girls and some of my theatre babies... Danny sent me a text and I invited him to join us. Again, had a great time. Again, he hugged me bye. Another bullet dodged... but I'm starting to sweat it. 

(What if I actually like this guy more than as just an excuse to get out of the house*... What if he likes ME? What if sometime soon he decides he WANTS to kiss me? What do I do, then?)

The following week Danny called and we went to lunch on his day off. We were again talking about relationships and he said that he felt the best move he could make for himself at that time was to stick to just friendships. He said he felt that staying away from romantic relationships was what he needed.

 (Wait, did I just get friend-zoned? You mean he DOESN'T want to kiss me? Why the heck not? I'm cute, kinda, sorta, maybe. Well, darn it, I USED to be! If I was him, I'd want to kiss me... SHEESH!)

He was right. (Danny, if you're reading this, don't get used to me saying that. For the most part, everyone knows you just ain't right...) Oh, and he's AWESOME! Just ask him** 

We've developed a pretty great little friendship. He's my male perspective with no pressure. I like to think I'm his sounding board, too. If I'm not, well, then he just talks too much. It also frees things up for him to come "hang out" with the girls and me. It's okay that my girls love Danny. I very rarely "break up" with a friend, so they get to keep THEIR friend, too. 

(Unfortunately, he and P.D. have joined forces on the hedgehog campaign... but that's another post.)

And finally, I've wondered, if I started dating fairly regularly... do I have to write about each and every one I go out with? Not now, I don't. 

Danny is a pretty entertaining all by himself, and I already got his permission to talk about him in the blog. He'll keep ya'll amused enough that I may or may not tell you about Donny (yes, I used their real names. I can't make this stuff up).

 'Cause kissing (OR not kissing) and telling, well that just ain't right. 

* Danny's gonna read this. That's me, trash-talkin'.

** Sarcasm alert

Instant Gratification

Oooh the cobwebs were even worse this time!

Soooo I took a blog sabbatical (Blobatical?) for various reasons, but now I'm back and hopefully will write/post with some consistency for a bit. The source of my return? Well, that started with Kirk*. Kirk became involved with the Treehouse Poets Series (at the Treehouse Cafe and Bakery, thus the name) and it piqued my interest, so in December I grabbed an old poem and went.

(On a side note, on that first night I went outside to talk with some folks and smoked two Marlboro full-flavor menthol cigarettes while chatting. Yeah, I know. Don't worry, it bit me. I ended up having to go to a gas station and throw up... and it still took me another couple hours before I felt well enough to drive back to L-town. Serves me right, I guess...)


Smoking fiasco aside, I had a good time. Everyone I met was very welcoming; I heard some very talented writers speak, and several made kind comments about my poem as well. I decided I'd go back.

As the date for the next poetry night neared, I realized I was either going to need to go dig old notebooks out of storage or get poetry inspiration and write one quickly to have an offering. I remembered that at the previous get together one author read a sample of his fiction instead of poetry, and it occured to me: I have ALL kinds of samples of my writing RIGHT HERE. So I read blog entries.

A scene from the Treehouse Poets Series #4. Or, in the interest of offering quality entertainment, "Where's Waldo?" only 1. Without Waldo and 2.With me and 3. I'm not wearing the goofy hat. G'head, click the picture.

To introduce the blog and the original theme, I chose to print out and read "Answers" (which, at least, ends on something of  an "up" note) and "One of Those Nights" (which, decidedly, does not). As I finished reading and looked out at the now-somber faces in the crowd, I realized I had made some fairly gut-wrenching selections... and I was the last speaker slated. I hated the idea of the night ending on such a sorrowful note. Luckily, Travis found a couple more readers (both excellent).

The one other issue eating at me was the idea of leaving the audience with the impression that I might still be in the dark place from "One of Those Nights." I had noticed several authors reading from their phones, so called up JKH on my phone and raised my hand to read just one more selection: "Dealing with Frustration in a Therapuetically and Nutritionally Sound Manner".

And suddenly, something magical happened... they were laughing... in all the right places!

What.     a.     Rush.

It was so great, I can't even come up with an appropriately humorous and hyperbolic simile for intoxication to try and illicit the standard appropriately cheap chuckle that should go right here!

Don't get me wrong, I love writing for you people but as I've told you before, I crave your comments, your reactions to what I write. I am now in love with every single person attending the Treehouse Poets Series who offered me those exhilarating morsels of merriment...

Sigh... I believe I'll be "jonesin'" for them until next month!

As I returned to my seat to bask in the joy of the moment, the second part of my motivation for using blog entries happened: someone asked me to repeat my blog address. And someone else. And someone else... And Travis put it on the Treehouse Poets Series Facebook page. I have to write regular posts now, or let them down.

Luckily, I have lots to catch my regular readers (if they come back) up on. I started to do all the catch-ups in one post, but I might need material until the next interesting thing happens... and with all the link jumping, this post is confusing enough!

Thanks Treehouse Poets, you're helping me breathe new life into this old blog!

*Who is Kirk? Kirk is someone better explained after much more alcohol than I plan on ever consuming at one sitting again... :-P

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Turn and face the strain... (ch-ch-changes...)

Yeah, I know, REALLY original title huh? I actually think one of my other blogger friends used this title before me. There could be two. Then again, a million monkeys on a million typewriters for a million years could also produce my blog... if there's a really warped one in the bunch.

Click to enlarge

As you can see, it's now been 1 year, 4 weeks, 21 hours, 55 minutes and 35 seconds since I quit smoking... (more or less, who keeps track of these things, really? snicker) So, this post is four weeks late. And, truth be told, I've only been off the nicotine gum for a little over two months... (I have to say some self-deprecating stuff before I start bragging some more, right?)

Giving up cigarettes and nicotine altogether has been very liberating for me, boosting my self-confidence in all the right places. Do I miss smoking? Every dang day, if only for a minute or two... some days more than others. It gets easier every time I find something in the house that still bears that tale-tell smell: a smoker lived here. I don't find them as often now... but I do find them.

So, at one year in, I feel pretty confident that my habit is kicked. Recognizing that change helped me feel empowered to start so working on a another change, so about a month ago I added a new computer gizmo to answer to:

Click to enlarge
Pretty neat, huh?

My weight has been out of control for some time... and while I lost the cigarettes in the last year, I gained TWENTY-FIVE more pounds. (Ahem!) Before, I always told myself that Weight Watchers was too expensive. After looking at all the money I was saving by not buying cigarettes on the other gizmo, (over $200 a month) I figured I deserved to treat myself to the expense of this one. (Less than $45 per month, and that includes the cost of the meetings!)

First, there's my superficial reason: many of The Ladies are already doing weight loss/health conscious programs. Tina's lost around 70 pounds, Sabrina's lost over 50, Crystal (my WW compadre!) has lost over 25... I'd be danged if I wanted to be the last fat girl standing! (Not to mention, the pics from our Derby party of me were atrocious. When I look in the mirror, I don't see a fat girl, but by gum that camera sure as heck sees her!) Besides, Heather, Tina, Pennie and Michelle have all been known to run 5Ks! I am determined to waddle behind them for some of those races this year. Who knows, maybe next year I can run them, too.

For a long time I had been telling myself I should be able to manage my weight on my own, that I should be able to just do it by myself and I didn't need guidance. It's kind of hard (not to mention hypocritical) to hold onto that belief after working as drug counselor for however-many months. If everyone should be out whipping their demons on their own, what am I getting paid for?

And besides how could I, in good conscience, sit in front of my clients extolling the power of changing thought processes; telling them that if they don't like something in their lives, they have the power to change it, with me sitting there over 100 pounds overweight? (Yes, you read that right, one hundred. I've been fortunate that until this last 25-30, I've always carried it well)

Another reason I chose Weight Watchers is their gradual process of weight loss. I am expecting the actual weight loss to take 1 1/2 to 2 years. As I tell my clients, lifestyle changes don't happen overnight. There's a slow process including education and retraining the brain involved. I don't want this to be a diet, I want to change the way I view food and the way I take care of myself. Not to mention the ways my daughters view food and take care of themselves. One of the MANY things I want to leave as a legacy to my girls is a healthy lifestyle. Hopefully we're on our way.

How does this fit in with the "New Life" tag?

When Deat died, when I started this blog, I still felt so vulnerable, perhaps even weak. I felt cheated, and scared  of all the changes that came with losing the person I loved most in the world, the person I looked to before I made any major decision. I've often said change is my confirmation of God's sense of humor: He designed us to hate change and then gave us change as the primary constant in our lives.

However, change has been a tool I used to regain my power, my footing in the last 2 1/2 years. A couple of weeks ago, I received my Masters' diploma. I completely changed careers; changed cars; changed health habits; changed the way I view L-town and possibilities that exist here. With each change, I grew a little stronger.

Perhaps that's the difference between the changes we choose and those that "just happen" in our lives. The changes I didn't choose seemed to sap my strength, then the ones I made returned it.

"Look what I did!"

Still, before I go crazy thumping myself on the back, I have to look at each change and mention that I see God's hand in the opportunities presented me, the situations coming together "just so" to facilitate the moves I made... one right after the other, one answered prayer after another. I felt empowered taking the wheel, but obviously, I didn't do ALL of the steering.

So, finally, I thank God for all of it, especially providing a workplace where I can share this part, His part, of the change process, too.

Hanging on to the Gusto and Conversating* with the Boo Bear

The Gusto Theatre closed, but the legacy in my life lives on.

Last weekend P.D. and I went to see "Hunger Games." Don't brow-beat me for letting P.D. see such a violent movie... we both had already read the books (have you?) and discussed them. If she had asked to go with someone else, my answer would have been "no" but she was with me, and since we already knew every scene, none of it was really shocking.

Anyway, at the theater, two of my "Gusto Theatre Babies" came up and hugged me. Later in the week, I got a call from one of my teenage "Babies", upset over a break-up. He came over for dinner for a distraction the next night... B.B. kept him so busy playing "Go Fish" and swinging on the swing set, I daresay it worked. Another one IMed me in Facebook last night for some quick advice. Kids are so great. All I ever did was let them know I cared... and it makes my day each and every time one of them calls me on it.

Last night the "Ladies of Gusto" had potluck at our "monthly" get-together. Back in June or July last year at one of the shows, I suggested a "Margarita Night" at my house for the moms of the theatre kids. I was surprised at how many were interested! We had six women, we had a private Facebook page for messages to one another... we had tequila, we had a blender, we had Sabrina at the helm, we were in business!

We had so much fun, we decided to do it again... and again... and we realized we weren't really drinking much margarita. Finally, one night Janet said, "Hey, do we have to make the margaritas or can we just admit that we really like each other?" (Poor Janet is stuck babysitting the tequila at her house; we still haven't gotten all the way through it.) We figured out, the margaritas just drew the line and said "No kids allowed." But now that we're tequila-free, we're even having the kids come, too.

I didn't realize how much I needed girlfriends and girl-time. I don't think any of us did. We share our ups, our downs... we tell stories about our families, the people we grew up with. We TRY to stop short of the following, but last night we had to sing a rousing chorus...

We don't MEAN to...

Pennie took P.D. home with her to spend the night with her daughter... then asked to keep her one MORE night. B.B. says she's missing Sissy, but she likes the "Just Momma and Me" time. She decided she wanted supper from a local fast food place.

B.B. Momma are you ready?

Me: I just gotta find my keys.

B.B.: Now you know you're supposed to put them on the hook as soon as you come in! (Stopped just short of rolling her eyes.)

Me: Kinda like, um, your shoes and your closet?

B.B.: Um... yes? (Big-eyed smile.)

Later, in the car...

B.B.: Momma, is it late Spring?

Me: No, I think it's more like early- or mid- Spring.

B.B.: You don't get to have Summer until after Spring, right?

Me: Right.

B.B.: That's what Papaw said. but I don't know if Papaw knows about these things...

Me: Why wouldn't Papaw know?

B.B.: Well, he's Papaw, and I have to...

Me: B.B., are you just talking to hear yourself talk?

B.B.: (Looking shocked) How did you know? (Long pause) I know f-o-r spells for, and I can use it in a sentence...

Life is good.


* Conversating is a reference from Capricorn Cringe. You can search it on her blog.

Jerks Need Not Apply

Remember way back when I said I was ready to date again? Well, uh, hmm... they still aren't knocking down my door. As much as it pains me to admit it,* I'm not quite as cute at 41 as I was at 27.

Not that I mind. I have a meaningful job, great friends, and two beautiful little girls that fill my world with love and laughter. When God decides the time it right, it will happen. For now I'm content with my life as-is.

Besides, the more stories I hear from single/divorced friends, not to mention clients, the happier I am that the stress of "a relationship" isn't part of my realm. I'm not hearing about a wealth of good men out there. Even the M.C. has mentioned that it seems that a disproportionate number of our clients (particularly the women) seem to be "stuck" in relationships where they aren't supported, valued or appreciated. I remember falling prey to dating partners like that a time or two myself back in the day.

I've pondered how (besides just being blessed) I was fortunate enough to have been married to a man like Deat. I've jokingly said that two months after his death I elevated him to sainthood and I conveniently forgot every single flaw he had... but compared to the men I've been hearing about, he really was a saint! How did I get so lucky and others didn't? I've further wondered: when the time comes, how will I teach P.D. and B.B. to guard their precious hearts from the "playas" of the world?

Today, a friend of mine posted a link to this article and I think it offers part of the answer. The following is from Darlene Brock at the Grit and Grace Project. You'll find a link to the blog section of her site over in the "I Read These" list on the right.

If He Acts like a Jerk… he probably is

We live in a world where there must be a Masters Degree in Excuses for Bad Behavior.  That reality is evidenced in the relationship single females have with their male counterparts.  It seems the female is constantly seeking the reason her male counterpart acted the way he did when the answer is often so simple.

He says he didn’t call because his phone battery died.  When really he went out with his buddies and you were the last thing on his mind.  He’s so sorry he was an hour late the traffic was really bad.  Instead of I just didn’t think you would be upset that I had to master one more level on my video game before I could find my keys to get in the car.

Then the classic I am afraid of commitment because I was hurt so badly by someone else.  Instead of I have every intention of seeing everything I can get from you while making a minimal amount of effort.

Ladies, what is wrong with this picture???????  We must not assume that all men make excuses, some are caught in traffic, have let their cell phone battery die or have been hurt, these are life realities.  But let’s not assume they are telling the truth either.  Especially when you are hoping to build a long lasting relationship with a repeat offender.  They must earn your respect and trust the same way you must earn theirs.

Simple common courtesy - call when you say you will, arrive on time - just basics should be expected.  The exception to that behavior needs to be occasional not recurrent.  It doesn’t matter how cute he is or how many flowers he brings to prove he’s sorry if all he can offer is an excuse in answer to the “what happened?” question.   This indicates a personality that will display unacceptable behavior in every area of life.

Simple moral to the story ladies, if he acts like a jerk……he probably is.  Don’t accept his excuses and expect more from him than his lack of even a little common courtesy.  If all ladies would hold men to this standard they would step up.  They would work for that relationship because they had to.  They need to work for it.  They would be better men worthy of women that expect better men.  Worthy of women who themselves seek to be better women.  And you wouldn’t be left waiting by the phone hoping for a call.

Simple and succinct, but it speaks volumes. In six short paragraphs, she conveyed a message that so many young girls forget or never learned... heck, a lesson that so many grown women need to understand. I'll be making copies of it for some of my clients.

Reading this reminded me of the attitude I maintained during my dating days. I gave this "speech" to more than one guy, and when I think back to the heartaches and heartbreaks... they came when I allowed myself to settle for less.

So you say you want to date me, huh? Well let's get something clear. While I love a friendly competition, in a relationship I don't compete: not with other women, not with alcoholism, not with drugs, not with sports or your buddies. I understand you'll want to spend time with your friends, I can take time with my friends, too. But I won't tolerate being treated inconsiderately, period.  

I'm not unreasonable, I just ask that you do what you say you will do. If you said you'd call, call. Don't be late or break a date without a good reason. I understand that circumstances come up, and sometimes it can't be helped. If we had plans but you can't be where you said you'd be, make a phone call so I'm not sitting around worrying and wondering where you are. I'll treat you with respect and expect the same. I will not tolerate less.

I don't compete because I don't have to. If I can't win, I won't play. It's that simple. If I have to win your time, your attention, your consideration, quite frankly, I'm not interested... because that tells me you aren't, either.

 As Darlene Brock points out, simple common courtesy is not too much to expect, but when we accept less; less is what we get.

Is it possible that speech might send a guy I was interested in packing? Well, yeah, it was designed to! I figured if he was interested enough to stick around after that speech, he might be worth my time. It's funny to me now. but simple courtesy was one of the things that helped put Deat on his pedestal.

When the time comes, I think I'll be grilling P.D. and B.B with this speech until they can quote it verbatim. I realize they will probably date different boys with a host of other issues, but hopefully this will weed out a few of them.

Meanwhile, just in case some suitor comes to call, I think I'll brush up on it, too.

*Sarcasm alert

Post Number Ninety-nine

Hello? Anybody here? Oh, let me dust the cobwebs off that chair,  this place sat empty for a while... have you noticed that usually happens when I plan to write more?

What happened? Well, it was time to do the annual tree trimming post... but nothing funny happened. We just put it up... I couldn't even come up with a mildly amusing spin for it.

Then, I just didn't know what to write about. The most interesting moments usually happened with clients, and I can't write about them for confidentiality reasons. I can't be too careful...not to mention school and my job and blah, blah blah.

But tonight I have something to write about. Tonight I finished a take home-test that was my last assignment for the last class I needed for my master's degree. I've worked on the test all day, but couldn't seem to get that last two-page essay question done. I got on Facebook complaining.

And here came a flood of support, friends from all different parts of my life cheering me on. I got the essay finished and posted that I was done, and here came even more support. Fifty-something "Likes" and congratulatory comments total between the two posts... I am so grateful for every single one of those. I can't say how much it meant, especially in light of..

The REST of the story...

No one knew it, but today marked 4 years since Deat's death. I am so much better than at times I ever imagined I'd be, but having that in the back of my mind was still hard. Having all those people offering me well wishes, it really highlighted so much for me, how far I've come, how blessed I've been. How absolutely blessed I AM.

In some weird way, through the cheers of my friends, I could hear Deat cheering, too, "You did it, Buddy, you did it."

MC Antics, Part 2

I left my treatment planner book (the one I needed to do homework) at work. This morning I had to go meet up with the MC at his regular pre-work stop so I could pick up the book, hurry home, and get busy.  (Where does he go every morning? I could tell ya, but I'd have to kill ya).

I asked a lady at said location if she'd seen him. She gave me a puzzled look.

Me: Oh, I'm his intern.

Nice Lady: Oh, you're Kelly, is that right?

Me: Yes, but I'm not as bad as he says, I promise.

Nice Lady: Oh no, I've heard him talk about you. He says you're awesome.

Wow. I've worked really hard in this internship, but to find out he bragged about me? I had to turn my head to keep her from seeing a little tear in the corner of my eye.

I think you're awesome, too, MC.


It's just that my friends know better than to let you in on it!

Editing

Today, I went back and changed something in my blog.

I wrote this earlier post carefully. I never really thought of my blog as something "widely" read... especially not locally. However, to the persons involved in the story, two identities were obvious. At the time, I really thought I had offered the benefit of the doubt to those people. Honestly, I didn't think they would ever read it, or care what my thoughts were.

Not only did they read it, as I learned today, they were LED to it by others. I also learned that they were very hurt by it.

When I wrote the post, I was careful not to accuse any particular person of any wrong doing. I questioned their thinking, but I should have done that in a private conversation with them: not in conversations with others and not on my blog. The worst part is, while I have questioned their motives, I've honestly always given those motives the benefit of the doubt in my heart. Unfortunately, upon re-reading the entry, I can see why it didn't seem that way.

Today, I ran into one of those people. I noticed a "cool" attitude. I reached out again. This person let me know that my words had hurt. I must say, I admire this person for addressing the issue with me rather than letting it sit. I should have offered this person the same, a long time ago.

Did I really feel the things I wrote at the time? Yes, I did, but, I should have been more careful to point out that the hurtful acts I mentioned in the post had not been committed by the two who could be identified. I have redacted those portions of that entry, but the damage is done. Those people are hurt, and I had never spoken to them about my feelings in the first place. I should have had a conversation with them; I should have heard them out.

So, to any readers who recognize the players in this entry, or even those who don't: it's how I felt at the time,  but I wasn't careful with my words and people who have never done anything to me were hurt. It wasn't fair. It was wrong.

I can't "fix" that, though I wish I could. All I can do, as I promised the person I spoke with today, is remove those parts of the post, and offer a truly heartfelt apology.

I am so very sorry.