Tonight my sister-in-law mentioned, on a family forum, a craft she was planning on doing in Primary with the kids for Mother's Day. She wanted to know if we thought it was a good craft idea. Two of my sisters responded with their enthusiasm for the craft. But when I first read about the craft, my thought was, "How many of those does a mom need?" and "If my child gave me that I'd feel obligated to use it and display it, but secretly I'd want to get rid of it."
This kind of thing happens all the time on our family forum, and I usually just don't comment. In fact, when we are planning a get together, I just keep my mouth shut, because almost always what I suggest is ignored or shot down. Where we are going to eat - we always go to where R. or E. want to go, unless S. has done "chow-hound" research and then we go where she tells us to. Where we are going site seeing - it's usually E. or R. who decide. What is on the evening agenda - usually R. or E. Who is staying in which rooms on which floors - usually my mom, based on E's preferences. What we should give as a group gift - usually R decides this. Anyway, they are fabulous sisters and have great taste and I enjoy myself with them most of the time, but I've learned to keep my opinions to myself. Anyway, with this craft thing, I thought about this blog, and being honest, so I kindly told them that I probably wouldn't be too excited about getting that craft, and I offered two alternative ideas. Now whether M decides to do the original or something else is absolutely no skin off my back. It won't phase me in the least. I don't live there, I won't be receiving one, I don't have to help with the project, I have no vested pride in the ideas I submitted as they aren't my own, but rather something I've received before, but still it felt risky to be the dissenting opinion. I worried I would offend M, or that S or E might think I was being rude. But afterwards, I felt a little bit proud that I was honest about how I felt. I am anxious though, to see if there are any responses to my choice to go against the grain, because in our family, I don't contrast, I camouflage.
I'll see how I feel tomorrow if there are any responses. Wierd that I feel nervous about that. It makes me feel like there is something wrong with my self-esteem. But it also makes me feel like that means I need to do this more often, be honest about how I feel about things.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Call Me Calista
I met a guy last week. For the first time in over two years I found myself thinking that I really was attracted to someone. Now, I didn't let myself get too infatuated, I don't know enough about him, he might even be married. He doesn't wear a wedding ring, but I know well that that doesn't mean he's not married.
I have spent about 26 hours with him in training for a job I got. He is one of the trainers so I have learned a bit about his personality. He seems kind, with a good sense of humor, intelligent, and easy going. He is handsome, to me. He has golden flecks in his eyes, which makes me sound like a doe-eyed teenager, but it is one of the first things I noticed besides his smile.
So I've been thinking, when this job is over, I think I would go out with this trainer man (TM for short). I would definately kiss him.
Then today, he was talking with the other trainer and there were only about 5 of us in the room and the other trainer asked him about grandchildren and he said, "Oh yeah, I've got two." I instantly perked up and thought, "He's got grandchildren?!" But then I thought of my friend who had 3 grandchildren by the time she was 39. And I thought, "Okay, no biggie, he's probably like 48-49. Definitely possible." Then he says, "My oldest grandson is 17, and my youngest...." WTH?! What?! 17?! I couldn't help myself, I blurted out, "Nuh-uh! You don't have a 17 year old grandson!" and he said, "Yes I do." and I exclaimed, "No you don't! I don't believe you!" And he said, "Yes I do. Here is his picture." And I said, "No Way! You do not!" Which by now was getting stupid, but really, I couldn't have been more shocked if he had announced he was actually a woman. Then I said, "How old are you?" and he replied, "63". SIXTY-THREE?!!!!! Where do I go from there? I said, "No way!", again sounding like a teenager with a 10 word vocabulary. And he says, "Why? Did you think I was younger?" And I say, "YES! Much younger!" to which he replied, "Well, thanks".
SIXTY-THREE! And I wanted to kiss him. Maybe even date him. But definitely kiss him. Do you know that he is twenty-one years older than me? 21! TWENTY-ONE!
Honestly though, I would have thought that I would be grossed out by the thought of kissing someone 21 years older than me. I have spent most of the day thinking about it. He was only 9 years younger than my dad, but 23 years older than me. I keep thinking that I can't believe he is that much older.
Then today after my field test I dropped off the evaluator and TM was outside and I said hi. He walked over to my car to talk to me and I rolled my window down. He leaned over and rested his hands on my window sill, just two feet from me and asked how it went. All very professional, but his golden eyes were right there, his nice smile, and he is actually really cute, and nice, and that huge age difference didn't seem to dent the iron clad armor of my totally wayward sex drive which I seem to constantly be reigning in. So, honestly, if TM made a move I would probably still go for it. Is that gross? I guess I would think it was if he seemed 63. But he doesn't.
I have spent about 26 hours with him in training for a job I got. He is one of the trainers so I have learned a bit about his personality. He seems kind, with a good sense of humor, intelligent, and easy going. He is handsome, to me. He has golden flecks in his eyes, which makes me sound like a doe-eyed teenager, but it is one of the first things I noticed besides his smile.
So I've been thinking, when this job is over, I think I would go out with this trainer man (TM for short). I would definately kiss him.
Then today, he was talking with the other trainer and there were only about 5 of us in the room and the other trainer asked him about grandchildren and he said, "Oh yeah, I've got two." I instantly perked up and thought, "He's got grandchildren?!" But then I thought of my friend who had 3 grandchildren by the time she was 39. And I thought, "Okay, no biggie, he's probably like 48-49. Definitely possible." Then he says, "My oldest grandson is 17, and my youngest...." WTH?! What?! 17?! I couldn't help myself, I blurted out, "Nuh-uh! You don't have a 17 year old grandson!" and he said, "Yes I do." and I exclaimed, "No you don't! I don't believe you!" And he said, "Yes I do. Here is his picture." And I said, "No Way! You do not!" Which by now was getting stupid, but really, I couldn't have been more shocked if he had announced he was actually a woman. Then I said, "How old are you?" and he replied, "63". SIXTY-THREE?!!!!! Where do I go from there? I said, "No way!", again sounding like a teenager with a 10 word vocabulary. And he says, "Why? Did you think I was younger?" And I say, "YES! Much younger!" to which he replied, "Well, thanks".
SIXTY-THREE! And I wanted to kiss him. Maybe even date him. But definitely kiss him. Do you know that he is twenty-one years older than me? 21! TWENTY-ONE!
Honestly though, I would have thought that I would be grossed out by the thought of kissing someone 21 years older than me. I have spent most of the day thinking about it. He was only 9 years younger than my dad, but 23 years older than me. I keep thinking that I can't believe he is that much older.
Then today after my field test I dropped off the evaluator and TM was outside and I said hi. He walked over to my car to talk to me and I rolled my window down. He leaned over and rested his hands on my window sill, just two feet from me and asked how it went. All very professional, but his golden eyes were right there, his nice smile, and he is actually really cute, and nice, and that huge age difference didn't seem to dent the iron clad armor of my totally wayward sex drive which I seem to constantly be reigning in. So, honestly, if TM made a move I would probably still go for it. Is that gross? I guess I would think it was if he seemed 63. But he doesn't.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Postponing the Inevitable
It is 11:41pm. I am tired. I need to go to sleep because I have to get up by 6:45 in the morning. But I am up, writing a post. If I weren't doing this I might be watching t.v., reading someone else's blog, checking email, creating some document or training tool for work, checking facebook, creating a craigslist ad, or any number of other things. One night I decided to design a website - and I did. I stayed up the entire night until 9:45 the next morning, designing a website, learning how to create a sitemap using HTML, and creating the content for the website. It was good.
Why do I stay up so late? Good question. Honest answer - I DONT KNOW. Really. I love sleep. I just hate "going" to sleep. I hate laying there awake, thinking of everything. Often thinking about how I haven't had sex, or even kissed a man for OVER two years. This after over 20 years of a steady relationship with lots of great sex and kissing.
I've tried kissing a pillow, to see if I remember how it feels. I've tried kissing my hand. It's stupid. It doesn't feel like a kiss, it doesn't feel like anything, except maybe like I'm kissing my hand. Oh MAN! I would love to kiss someone!
How come is it that when we get divorced, we just are supposed to quit all of that... cold turkey. Yeah, that might work for tobacco, alcohol, and chocolate - but it's just not happening for me with sex. Every two weeks my homones fluctuate - and with each fluctuation I find myself aching for a little "fluctuation" of a different kind. That sounded good in my head, but reading it back it doesn't carry the same punch. Oh well, I'm not changing it. Don't mis-interpret this. I do not want a relationship really. I really just want the sex and the cuddling. But not the risky emotional ties.
Also, I don't go to bed because night time is the only time I really have totally to myself. But I don't use it how I would if someone said, "I'm going to give you two full hours on your own, no distractions, to do whatever you want." If that happened, I'd read, or visit with a friend, or go on a walk. If it was summer and daytime, I'd lay out in the sunshine and listen to great music. I might watch a movie. But no... I spend it checking email, facebook, blogs, and doing work, when what I really should be doing is sleeping. I am a dork. It's true. I need to go to bed now.
Why do I stay up so late? Good question. Honest answer - I DONT KNOW. Really. I love sleep. I just hate "going" to sleep. I hate laying there awake, thinking of everything. Often thinking about how I haven't had sex, or even kissed a man for OVER two years. This after over 20 years of a steady relationship with lots of great sex and kissing.
I've tried kissing a pillow, to see if I remember how it feels. I've tried kissing my hand. It's stupid. It doesn't feel like a kiss, it doesn't feel like anything, except maybe like I'm kissing my hand. Oh MAN! I would love to kiss someone!
How come is it that when we get divorced, we just are supposed to quit all of that... cold turkey. Yeah, that might work for tobacco, alcohol, and chocolate - but it's just not happening for me with sex. Every two weeks my homones fluctuate - and with each fluctuation I find myself aching for a little "fluctuation" of a different kind. That sounded good in my head, but reading it back it doesn't carry the same punch. Oh well, I'm not changing it. Don't mis-interpret this. I do not want a relationship really. I really just want the sex and the cuddling. But not the risky emotional ties.
Also, I don't go to bed because night time is the only time I really have totally to myself. But I don't use it how I would if someone said, "I'm going to give you two full hours on your own, no distractions, to do whatever you want." If that happened, I'd read, or visit with a friend, or go on a walk. If it was summer and daytime, I'd lay out in the sunshine and listen to great music. I might watch a movie. But no... I spend it checking email, facebook, blogs, and doing work, when what I really should be doing is sleeping. I am a dork. It's true. I need to go to bed now.
Mavis and Tucker
No one would find it as interesting as I do, I'm sure, but there are two ducks in our pool. Of course I have named them. You can't adore a living thing without giving it a name. Mavis returns every year, but she always brings a new beau, at least that is what the duck experts say, and I can't tell her lovers apart. This year it is Tucker. Tucker is a handsome duck for sure, that Mavis really knows how to pick them!
I hear them out there in the early mornings, softly quacking, almost a sleepy grunting kind of quack. I look out my bedroom window and see them paddling around in the pool. Oval wet spots sporadically dot the concrete around the pool. Sometimes I hear splashing and look out to see them in the full throes of ...bathing, no not mating, merely bathing, bobbing under the water, then stretching up in an almost flight position, using wings and feet to propel water to every inch of their feathered round bodies. Other times I don't hear them and I will look out and see them sitting quietly on the grass or cement, in a peaceful repose, enjoying the soft filtering light of early morning.
It is always early morning, because by 7:00 they have been thoroughly barked up and away by my fearless terrier, Lulu. Lulu is trying to form a peaceful relationship with them, but poor thing, just can't control herself 90% of the time. But that 10% is fun to watch. She sits in the house, looking out the sliding glass door at the ducks. It is a tense posture, not a relaxed perch by any means. Her doggie door sits right there, waiting for her to dart out of it at 30 MPH. But instead, she just sits there and watches. Maybe she goes out, slowly, then she sits on the step, just watching. I wonder what is going on in her head.
The other morning there was a ruckus. Splashing beyond the norm woke both Lulu and I up. Lulu hopped (literally hopped) onto the bedspread and started growling at my window. I am on the second floor and all she could see was tree-tops, but she knew Mavis and Tucker were up to something. Expecting to see them in a passionate twist, I looked out and was suprized to see Tucker, in the pool, fighting with another duck, we'll call him Ivan. Tucker and Ivan were fully going at it, trying to maim each other. Mavis stood on the grass and watched, probably rooting for Tucker, but unable to assist.
Lulu couldn't stand it. She tore down the stairs and leaped, at full speed out her doggie door, barking for all her life was worth and took off after Mavis, because she was the only land - based duck. Mavis was so aggitated she almost didn't get away and finally flew into the pool. Tucker and Ivan didn't even look up, but kept pummeling each other with their wings and bills. Lulu ferociously barked from the side lines (she refuses to get wet if at all possible), and the ducks moved about. They flew out of the pool and landed just about 12 feet from Lulu who took off again, and really just missed catching Mavis by about 1 foot. It was spectacular!
I told my boys about it when they woke up. But they lacked the enthusisam I had about the incident. They were interested, sure, but just not engaged.
So this is where the honesty part comes in. This is one of the things I really miss about being married. I miss having someone who listens to you and is engaged in your life, your stories, your interests, and your unimportant details. I wanted to tell the incident to everyone I saw that day - but I didn't tell anyone besides my boys. Why? Because why would anyone else care? They haven't watched me fall in love with Mavis and Tucker. They haven't witnessed me saying good night to them each night before I head up to bed, and saying good morning each day as I greet the day. They just wouldn't get it.
I miss telling someone my stupid, wierd, and insignificant dreams. I miss having someone ask about my day, and really - REALLY - wanting to know the answer. I miss being that person to someone else. The person they tell about the dumb driver who cut them off on their way to work in the morning. I miss being the person that listens to 25 minutes of boring business meeting talk just to find out that it was the guy in India that caused the whole problem in the first place because he didn't follow procedure. I don't miss that because of the conversation, I miss it because of the connection. I miss that connection. And no matter what anyone else says, no matter what the books say, all the friends in the world are not the same as that one person who really understands why you love the stupid ducks who poop on your concrete in your backyard.
I hear them out there in the early mornings, softly quacking, almost a sleepy grunting kind of quack. I look out my bedroom window and see them paddling around in the pool. Oval wet spots sporadically dot the concrete around the pool. Sometimes I hear splashing and look out to see them in the full throes of ...bathing, no not mating, merely bathing, bobbing under the water, then stretching up in an almost flight position, using wings and feet to propel water to every inch of their feathered round bodies. Other times I don't hear them and I will look out and see them sitting quietly on the grass or cement, in a peaceful repose, enjoying the soft filtering light of early morning.
It is always early morning, because by 7:00 they have been thoroughly barked up and away by my fearless terrier, Lulu. Lulu is trying to form a peaceful relationship with them, but poor thing, just can't control herself 90% of the time. But that 10% is fun to watch. She sits in the house, looking out the sliding glass door at the ducks. It is a tense posture, not a relaxed perch by any means. Her doggie door sits right there, waiting for her to dart out of it at 30 MPH. But instead, she just sits there and watches. Maybe she goes out, slowly, then she sits on the step, just watching. I wonder what is going on in her head.
The other morning there was a ruckus. Splashing beyond the norm woke both Lulu and I up. Lulu hopped (literally hopped) onto the bedspread and started growling at my window. I am on the second floor and all she could see was tree-tops, but she knew Mavis and Tucker were up to something. Expecting to see them in a passionate twist, I looked out and was suprized to see Tucker, in the pool, fighting with another duck, we'll call him Ivan. Tucker and Ivan were fully going at it, trying to maim each other. Mavis stood on the grass and watched, probably rooting for Tucker, but unable to assist.
Lulu couldn't stand it. She tore down the stairs and leaped, at full speed out her doggie door, barking for all her life was worth and took off after Mavis, because she was the only land - based duck. Mavis was so aggitated she almost didn't get away and finally flew into the pool. Tucker and Ivan didn't even look up, but kept pummeling each other with their wings and bills. Lulu ferociously barked from the side lines (she refuses to get wet if at all possible), and the ducks moved about. They flew out of the pool and landed just about 12 feet from Lulu who took off again, and really just missed catching Mavis by about 1 foot. It was spectacular!
I told my boys about it when they woke up. But they lacked the enthusisam I had about the incident. They were interested, sure, but just not engaged.
So this is where the honesty part comes in. This is one of the things I really miss about being married. I miss having someone who listens to you and is engaged in your life, your stories, your interests, and your unimportant details. I wanted to tell the incident to everyone I saw that day - but I didn't tell anyone besides my boys. Why? Because why would anyone else care? They haven't watched me fall in love with Mavis and Tucker. They haven't witnessed me saying good night to them each night before I head up to bed, and saying good morning each day as I greet the day. They just wouldn't get it.
I miss telling someone my stupid, wierd, and insignificant dreams. I miss having someone ask about my day, and really - REALLY - wanting to know the answer. I miss being that person to someone else. The person they tell about the dumb driver who cut them off on their way to work in the morning. I miss being the person that listens to 25 minutes of boring business meeting talk just to find out that it was the guy in India that caused the whole problem in the first place because he didn't follow procedure. I don't miss that because of the conversation, I miss it because of the connection. I miss that connection. And no matter what anyone else says, no matter what the books say, all the friends in the world are not the same as that one person who really understands why you love the stupid ducks who poop on your concrete in your backyard.
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