Archive for November, 2008

Yeah, it’s me

It’s been a while, huh? The last few weeks have been busy ones. Our office moved, and I’ve been getting used to a significantly longer commute, a new seating arrangement (I lost my little private office and am now sitting in cubeland), among other things.

And I haven’t had much to write about, either, at least nothing to share publicly. I’ve been doing a lot of journaling, and some writing, and it’s been nice.  But something else is on my mind today.

Note: if you’re the person I’m writing about here, you’ll know it. If you think it might be but we haven’t talked about it, trust me, you’re not this person.

Losing a friendship is agonizing. The only reason you have any power to hurt me is because I love you. I don’t think a day has passed since we quit talking to each other that I haven’t thought about you. I’ve even dreamed about you a few times. It has been almost as painful as losing my sister A. But you probably know that already, because I’ve told you how you remind me of A. Maybe that’s why this loss is so much more painful than I had expected, because it’s like losing A. all over again, and I can’t even talk to you about it.

Have you ever seen Labyrinth? The whole movie has Jennifer Connolly’s character running through a labyrinth, trying to rescue her baby brother from the Goblin King, played by a most luscious David Bowie. At the end of the movie she is frantically trying to remember her lines. And then she gets it. “You have no power over me.” The world almost stops spinning as she takes in that realization. Then she says it again, with conviction: “You have no power over me.” The Goblin King knows at that moment that he has lost her and the babe, and everything in his world spins out of reality and she is returned to her home and to safety.

I love you. I always will. But I guess we weren’t as close friends as I thought we were. Or maybe it’s just that our journeys have suddenly split into such dramatically different directions that you don’t have room for me. I know I hurt you, and I’ve apologized and asked your forgiveness.  You withheld that forgiveness. You hurt me, too, and I’ve not heard one word of apology from  you.  I feel certain that you’re sorry, but don’t know how to make things go back to the way they were. I don’t think they can go back to the way they were.

I love you. I always will. And I will pray for you, and hold good thoughts in my heart for you, and wish you every joy and blessing that God has in store for you. And I forgive you for hurting me, and ask again that you’ll forgive me for hurting you. And then I’m letting it go. I’m no longer going to let this situation have any power over me.  I have a life to live, and I’m tired of living a life filled with regrets. I don’t want you to hold any regrets, either. Just go forward be happy.

Edited to add:

See, I said this, and I meant it, mostly. But then things seemed like they might be thawing out. And because I love you, I tried again. And you shot me down. And it’s like going through the initial hurt all over again. I was right the first time. I can’t do this. If it makes you feel better, I’m fully planning on crying all the way home. But I’m not going to try again.

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Money, Honey

Usually when Joe and I talk about money, it’s like ways to cut back, pay the debts, get the IRS off our backs, etc. And he’s generous, don’t get me wrong. I get an allowance every two weeks, so that I have some money to spend without having to account to him for every penny, and sometimes he gives me extra just because.

Yesterday when I was leaving for the hotel, he stuck some cash into my purse, so I could get some food or something. I stopped at a grocery store and got some frozen veggies, a bean burrito, some hummus and tortillas. Today when he asked what I’d eaten, I said that last night I ate the can of soup he left in the room for me. He sounded disappointed, so I added that today I’d had a bean burrito and some veggies. Then he sounded really disappointed. “Did you eat breakfast downstairs?” Well, no, because I was asleep. “You’re making me feel bad! You’re not spending any money!” so I promised that I’d get room service tonight, and would make sure to eat the free breakfast tomorrow morning.

He’s cute.

Oh, and if you’re wondering, I am feeling a wee titch better. Here’s hoping I’ll be raring to go when Monday morning hits and I have to leave the house at 6 instead of 6:45.

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Guess where I am? My home away from home, sans husband, sans dogs, avec des livres et des comfy jammies. Joe got home from New York today and booked me a room for the weekend at the same hotel I went to last time. In fact, it’s even the same room. The same comfy bed, the same soft pillows, the same wonderful-smelling sheets that I didn’t wash.  I think my husband loves me.

I’ve been sick for a week, as I may have mentioned, so I saw my doctor this afternoon. Severe respiratory tract infection, and he put me on antibiotics and something that’s supposed to help with the coughing but hasn’t yet. He said it was good I went in, so we could catch it before it turns into pneumonia. I seriously don’t have time to deal with pneumonia!!!

Today was the last day at work in the building where I’ve been going for the last 3 years. The new building is a lot nicer, although definitely with the corporate America feel. I’m not thrilled about adding 17 miles each way to my daily commute, but it could be worse. I’m losing my private office, but I don’t mind that so much. Ask me again after I’ve spent a few weeks working in a cube again, and I may tell you something different.

I don’t have much else to say right now. Clover gave me a blog award, which was really sweet of her, and I’ll pick it up and pass it on sometime next week. For now my head’s pounding so I’m going to sign out.

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I am not ashamed . . .

. . . to be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Lately it seems that one ought to be ashamed, what with all the cries of “haters” against the members of the church and the Church itself.  And honestly, that really makes me sad, because I don’t hate anyone. I think that if any organization is allowed to speak out in favour of its view of morality, it ought to be a church or religious organization. Yes, members of my faith actively worked to help the passage of Prop 8 in California. Does that mean they hate homosexuals? Far from it–they (we) (I) believe that marriage is a sacred covenant between a man, a woman, and God. That’s not our definition–that’s God’s definition.

I’ll admit openly that I’ve struggled a lot with this issue. I have some people who are very, very dear to me who are homosexual. I see the things they fight against every day, and it breaks my heart. So when I tell you that I stand beside my church leaders, please understand that means a lot. I’m risking hurting people I love, having them think I hate homosexuals, hate people who don’t fit into a certain mold. Trust me–I don’t fit into any molds myself, and I know what it feels like to be deeply hurt by people I love.

This has been incredibly difficult to see unfold. I see photographs of people, their faces twisted in anger and hatred. I see them seemingly singling out the LDS Church for the success of proposition 8, and see them identify us as haters. I see ugly signs posted outside the temples that I hold to be sacred places. I see hurt, anger, frustration, and bewilderment everywhere.

I know there are continued demonstrations and rallies planned outside LDS temples. I know that there is serious call for a boycott of Utah. I know people are seeking to have the Church’s tax-exempt status revoked.  All those actions will not change the mind and will of Heavenly Father, anymore than a child’s wheedling and whining will not change the mind of its parents should the end result in harm to that child.  I’m reminded of a verse of scripture: “How long can rolling waters remain impure? What power shall stay the heavens?  As well might man stretch forth his puny arm to stop the Missouri river in its decreed course, or to turn it up stream, as to hinder the Almighty from pouring down knowledge from heaven upon the heads of the Latter-day Saints” (Doctrine & Covenants 121:33)

I don’t know personally any LDS members who will tell you they know why things are the way they are, but like everyone else does in this world, we walk in faith, even when it’s hard.  I know that not everyone shares that faith, but everyone has faith in something, whether it be himself/herself, science, family, or anything else that gives people something to cling to.

I  say again that I am not ashamed to be a member of this church. I am not ashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I wish that I were a better person, but with all that I know and do, I want to follow Him.

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A Day in the Life

5:30 p.m. Monday – I get home from work and pay the Sprint bill. Then I go outside to play with the dogs. Molly’s favourite game is keep-away. For perhaps a whole 5 minutes we dart and dodge each other as I try to trick her into giving up the ball and as she tries to keep me from getting it. Then I twist my ankle and hobble back inside.

5:45 p.m. Monday – Joe and I go have dinner at the little Tex-Mex place across the street from the hardware store. You can get a 2-enchilada dinner for $3.99 on Monday nights–can’t beat that.

6:30 p.m. Monday – we go get gasoline. $1.91! woot!

6:35 p.m. Monday – we stop at the drugstore for an ankle brace and an ice pack. Joe also decides to start getting some OTC meds for our storage, since we have quite a bit of cash left on our cards and don’t want to lose it.

6:50 p.m. Monday – back at home, and the dogs are really happy to see us. Joe realizes he forgot to get light bulbs. I go into the bedroom, change into my comfy new jammies, wrap up my ankle and put an ice pack on it. Joe takes the little dog to the store with him, where he is supposed to get light bulbs and cheese. (The big dog’s on some medicine and the best way to give it to her is to crush it, mix it up with peanut butter and honey, and schmear it on the cheese.) I read while Joe’s gone.

7:00ish p.m. Monday – I hear the rain that had just been spitting on us begin to pour. Ten or 15 minutes later, I hear the front door open and a little dog barrels down the hall and jumps onto the bed and starts shaking furiously. Joe said that Scout was shaking like a leaf while he was out in the storm. I felt bad–he’s always so cool and calm while it’s storming that I didn’t think he’d be stressed to go out with Joe. But perhaps he had some storms outside when he was an abandoned little dog. Anyway, I snuggle with him for a few minutes before he bolts off back down the hall to be with Joe, whom he totally adores.

7:30ish p.m. Monday – I take some Benadryl because I have a really bad sinus headache. And when I go back to the room to start on my second book of the evening, Joe and the little dog join me. I have to close the book because Joe wants to talk. He talks for a while, and then takes a little snooze while I finish the second book.

8:30ish p.m. Monday – I start the 3rd book, just as Joe wakes up and starts talking some more. I take my nightly medicines, grab a pillow and head for the living room. Joe needs to get some sleep, as he has to be at the airport for a 6 a.m. flight on Tuesday morning. And I was so congested that I couldn’t breathe while lying down, so I sleep on the recliner. Didn’t finish the 3rd book, but got about halfway through before falling asleep.

3:30 a.m. Tuesday – The alarm clock goes off in the bedroom. I think how happy I am that I’m not the one getting up at 3:30 a.m.

3:55 a.m. Tuesday – Joe freaks out because something’s really weird about the screen on his laptop and he can’t look up his flight. He tears down the hall to boot up my laptop and I try to figure out what’s wrong with his screen. Somehow the screen all turned sideways, so it was really funky trying to navigate it.

4:10 a.m. Tuesday – Joe kisses me good-bye, kisses the dogs, I go get in bed for the rest of the night and he heads out to the airport.

5:50 a.m. Tuesday – My alarm goes off and I cuss. Not a bad cuss, just a little cuss, but I cuss. Then I get up, do the bathroom bit, check my e-mail, read the comics online, and get dressed. Just as I’m heading out of the house I see the little dog in the livingroom, on the couch, barfing on one of Joe’s Les Paul guitars and one of his favourite jackets. I clean up the barf, put the jacket out of reach, give both dogs a rawhide to chew on, and go to work.

6:50 a.m. Tuesday – I arrive at work and get going. My ankle still hurts pretty badly, and I’m hobbling around. Did I mention that our office is moving this weekend, and I’m supposed to be clearing stuff out and getting it all ready to pack when the crates come in tomorrow?

8:00 a.m. Tuesday – I have another (the same?) sinus headache, so I take a couple of Aleve, figuring they would help the headache and the ankle. They don’t.

11:00 a.m. Tuesday – Off to McD’s for a quick lunch. I eat in the car while reading a book (Call this one book #4, because I left book #3 at home.)

11:30 a.m. Tuesday – I have a stack of credit bureau reports to pull, and the system keeps going down. It’ll let me pull one or two, and then log me out. I cuss. Mildly, but I cuss.

12:20 p.m. Tuesday – Joe calls–he’s safe in White Plains, and when I tell him about Scout puking on his guitar and jacket, he cusses. It’s quite a cuss, I must say.

Isn’t my life fun-filled and exciting? Don’t you wish you were me? In case you’re wondering what will happen in the next few hours, I will continue sorting through bins of rubbish and figuring out what can be thrown away and what needs to go with us. When I leave at 5 I’ll go straight home and let two frantic dogs outside to go tinkle, but I won’t be able to play keep-away with them, alas. And I’ll give Molly her medicine, and see if Joe’s jacket is machine-washable or if it has to go to the cleaners. And I’ll read a bit and clean a bit and sleep a bit. 

When I was a kid, this isn’t exactly how I’d visioned life being. But it’s a good life, most of the time.

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Reader Madness

My goal at the beginning of the year was to read 365 books, averaging one per day for the year. As of last night, I’m at 287. That leaves 78 to go. (and is it bad that I used a calculator to figure out the difference? it is, isn’t it. I’m slinking away in shame. not really, because I’m not finished with this post yet. but figuratively.)

I currently have 15 books checked out from the library, but one of those is a book I–gasp–can’t find. More shame here. I know it’s somewhere. But there are a lot of potential somewheres in my house. And I can’t renew it any more after today (I mean, I renewed it today, so I have another 3 weeks in which to find it). So while I was at the library during lunch, I asked the librarian how much it will cost should I, oh, say, have to buy it. $35. Now see, the whole purpose of using the library was to save money by not buying books, and save on space in the house by not buying books. And I have saved a lot of money, no question about it, and I’ve been using the library regularly for a year now and have paid an extremely insignificant amount of money in late fees. So I suppose if one averaged it out over the 12 month period, $35 isn’t that bad. And the book is a really good one, and I wouldn’t really mind adding it to my library. But I haven’t been saving up $2.916 a month for the last 12 months, and $35 is a big chunk out of my pocket money. So I’m really hoping I can find that dang book.

Anyway, back to my original point. So even though I currently have 15 books checked out from the library, only 14 of those will add to my total read, because I already read that other one. And 78-14=64. (No, I didn’t use the calculator for that. Hush, now.) I think I’ll make it.

It’s been fun, actually. I’ve spent time at the library poring over the New Books shelf, and have found some authors that I’ve really liked. I’ve also found some that I really haven’t liked. And somedays I’ll go to a random shelf in the library and tell myself I have to pick one book off that shelf, and it has to be an author I’ve never read before. That’s been fun, too. And as I’ve found some new (to me) authors and voraciously consumed everything available by that author, I’ve wanted to write and ask him/her politely to please hurry up and write some more. And then I have to ask the library politely to please hurry up and buy them.

I’ve been finding that there are some books that I only want to read once, and the library is great for that. And it’s good for trying out cookbooks or craft books, but those help me more to decide whether I want to buy those books, because those are the types of things that you want to spend more time with. But when I do decide I want to buy one, it goes onto my wish list, and I buy one every two or three months from E-bay (my latest score was $1 plus $3.99 shipping on a $20 book).

So as I’m winding down the year, with 64 more books to go (after I read the 14 sitting in my car), I’m going to ask a favour. Tell me some of your favourite books/authors. Give me something to go on besides judging books by their covers while I’m in the library. I won’t promise to finish them, because life’s too short to read a book you hate, but I will promise to try to find them and give them a go if I do find them.

Oh–totally off topic but relevant to me–NaBloPoMo & NaNoWriMo? Forget it. Ain’t happenin’.

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Great News!!!

Jehara has some great news to share. Why not go drop her some nice happy wishes?

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Today’s Twitters

  • 10:26 @Chicory Yes, I’ve had that same fear. #

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Siestas and Hiccups

For lunch, I took a siesta. How relaxing! I got into my car, lay the seat back all the way down, rolled down the windows, snuggled up in my lap blanket and went to sleep.

And then I came back to my desk and got hiccups.  Usually I only get hiccups when I’m laughing too loudly at something, and if I can make myself stop laughing, I can make the hiccups go away. And sometimes I get the hiccups when I take a bite of something and it just hits something just wrong. And then if I drink something they go away. Not this time. I drank some water. Kept hiccuping. I ate a bite of sandwich. Kept hiccuping. Hiccupped away for at least 5 minutes. I think, though, that they’ve finally stopped. It’s a good thing, too. I don’t get dainty, ladylike hiccups any more than I sneeze dainty ladylike sneezes. When I have hiccups, anyone within earshot knows it. They’re loud and hoarse-sounding, and not infrequently accompanied by me calling them bad names for not going away.

Yep. They’re gone. Hooray, now I can get back to work.

(Could the sarcasm drip any more caustically off that sentence?)

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