The Bubble Room, The Bubble Room (Sung to the tune of “The Bugaloos”) – Day 37

Note: It’s another catch-up. Life has gotten in the way of writing about it.

I took Guy to the Bubble Room for his birthday. 3 months late and about a 2 hour drive away, we took a day off to explore the wonders of this restaurant. Before I went back to the old grind, I escaped for a few days to Captiva Island to enjoy freedom, one last time. The thrill was escalated when we took advantage of the Bubble Room’s hospitality for lunch one afternoon.

For those of you who know Guy, this place looks like his house with gargantuan signs and left over memorabilia, well-loved and tended to that entices you to exclaim, “Man I had one of those as a kid.” A multilayer establishment, the Bubble Room started out small in the early 70s and has grown to house more crap than pack rats at a trailer park with food that does not fit the décor. It is actually very good.

But first what you see. A train travels around the whole place on a track near the ceiling as Santa, dead movie stars, artist’s renderings of nursery rhymes and anything kitsch you can image wraps around the patrons. Collages of Marilyn, circus treats and a tunnel of love really play up the funhouse theme.

Then there is the food. Everything on the menu is named after some celebrity or theme, like the Louis Armstrong (a muffaletta sandwich). They also have an incredible bakery onsite that crafts the most delightful cakes. My recommendations are the French Dip (forgot what their name of it was), and the Gone Fishin’. Also the bacon and cheese homemade potato chips are heaven on a plate. Don’t forget something sweet with the orange or rum cakes. Though these is so much more to tempt you so be brave.

Next time I would love to go back at night and try something different. You are invited to stroll around the showcase which is like a marvelous gallery of things you wish you still had or lusted for as a child. That is if you are over 40.

It was a wonderful afternoon followed by the fellas hanging out on the beach, (I couldn’t go with the bad ankle). We also tried to get coconuts, but with no luck. Some day, some way.
I was never really into the whole beach thing when I was younger, or even nature for that matter. Now I love it all. Soon we will be going to the mountains to explore waterfalls and lakes.

Making a List and Checking it 10 Times - Day 36

Inspired by the June book club choice, The Next Thing On My List by Jill Smolinski, I decided to write my own list of things I want to accomplish by my next birthday.

I have always been a big list maker. Sometimes the lists turn out to be just the thing to get me moving or organized and sometime they are fruitless causing only depression and frustration. Following all the rules to goal-making and getting it all set in my head doesn’t always work, but this time will be different. Why?

Because I said so. I am closer to personal discovery than I have ever been and my life’s evaluation has a lot of highlighted moments that stirred me from reading the book. I’ve kissed a stranger (a few really). I have worn sexy shoes. I have donated to charity (not just money, but time and a torn tendon.) I have gone braless.

So what do I want to do by my next birthday? First came the “shoulds” and the “groovy” things. Both left off this time. I read Jill’s notes on how to create a list as a guide to what to do. (It’s the list me. I am creative, but I like structure and such). Her advice helped me construct a list of 29 things. Seems like a lot, but some are small. And 29 is a prime number, I have a thing for primes. I was just too inspired. All of them sound like good notes for my future and since I am ready to try new things it all comes down to “Why Not?”

Conspiring with thoughts of my past “Live in Europe”, “Swim with Dolphins”, my present re-evaluated these touches to make them more within my heart’s realm. I love my home and where I live, plus all my friends and family that I wouldn’t want to leave them. Maybe next year for the dolphins, it just doesn’t have a loud gong sound in my heart like “Learning to Ride a Motorcycle”.

Some big tasks are Lose 50 Pounds, Volunteer with Hospice, Go Someplace New, Clean Out My Garage and Have a Garage Sale. Some are small, such as Change My Hair Color, Buy New Drapes, Bake Treats for My Coworkers and Write the Article for Misconceptions (which has haunted me for months). Learning to Play Golf and Drafting a Vision of My New Bathroom and Kitchen will take a bit of time, as will Learning Photoshop and Knitting a Pair of Socks.

But I am up for it. Not too much to kill me with my already busy schedule. Plus I haven’t forgotten those around me. I have also added Babysit (for which person I do not know), Host a Brunch, Make Thanksgiving Dinner (which may happen by default since Patrick and Guy will be in Miami the night before to see Madonna and won’t be back until the afternoon) and Buy a Meal for a Stranger.

Simple self-improvements dot the list like Getting a Makeup Lesson, Toning My Triceps and Start an Etsy Business. A kernel of fear rests inside of me with additions such as Go to Adventure Island (after losing the 50 pounds of course), Taking the Bus to Work (never afraid of public transport when I travel, but here it is a bit different) and Walk 400 Miles (since at the moment I can’t even walk one).

Lastly are those boring things that just need to get done like Re-do My Soffits, Buy New Blinds for All My Windows and Paint My House.

I hate my crutches - Day 35

I have had many crutches in my life: alcohol, bad lovers, excuses, food and so much more, but the crutches I hate the most are the ones I am using now because of my foot. I hate them. Yes hate is a strong word and so worth it.

I have bruises beside my breasts, my arms ache and everyone looks at me like a cripple (which I temporarily am). Renee and Wayne were the only ones who gave me any encouragement when they refused to ask "Are you OK" "Does it hurt"?? They called me hop-along and crip most of the day so I felt better. I don't handle sympathy well. It almost brings me to tears thinking about 2 more weeks of this.

It sucks.

I Fucking Hate My Crutches!!!

Disco, Disco Mouse - Day 34

Ronn gave me a present the other day – a new mouse for my laptop. I was having one hell of a time adapting to the thumb pad on the damn thing, so he solved the problem. Now it makes my life so much easier. I can sit back on the couch, with my ankle elevated and watch TV while I work.

As soon as I plugged it in, the damn thing started flashing and in my head so many of those dance favorites started to sing. I just stared at it for a while, mesmerized and trying to follow the pattern (that's one of my personality traits - pattern finding). It feels fine in the hand and is actually a bit soothing with all the faux gemstone bumps against my palm. It is a true jewel in my book.

I stayed up pretty late last night watching Primeval-a BBC sci-fi show. Last week it was Jekyll. Primeval is Ok, it is better than anything I can get on my lonely 6 analog channels, but Jekyll was great. I loved everything about it from the actors, the story, the action and the way it was shot. James Nesbitt was great in both roles as Mr Hyde (otherwise called Mr. Sexy Pants) and Dr. Jackman (not related to another mixed-up mutant, Hugh Jackman growl.)

The only problem is I stay up late and I love sleep so when the next morning arrives, and after I say thanks for being alive another day, I feel the pain, like now. This computer screen is too bright. Funny how when I wasn’t working, I loved getting up early and having a full day of it, but of course it was all about me. I am a selfish lass.

So now disco mouse and I shall wobble and finish up some minor touches, pack ourselves away for the work day before us (so many things, lets hope it goes by fast) and then to book club this evening. I get even more tired just thinking about it. I need more coffee Salut.

Cereal Thriller - Day 33

Today I was part of a research study on cereal. I signed up years ago after someone at a party told me how they had made a crapload of cash being a guinea pig. Being as financial ties have bound me, I signed up and waited. Constantly let off the hook since I didn't measure up - usually as soon as the term "single" was spoken - I was thrilled when I had a chance to try a new cereal.

It was a raisin bran kind of cereal with trail mix supposedly involved. You pick up the box, eat the cereal as instructed, usually over a certain number of days, and then come back to be questioned for two hours.

What I didn't know was that they get more test subjects than they need and only some get to scrutinize the cereal for the group and the other half get to go home. Either way you get more than $100. Cool deal. Especially when they sent me home.

Like jury duty, I wondered what was wrong with me, and like the same, I was happy to leave and get paid.

My two cents about the cereal: I liked the bran flakes plain since they were soggy in milk. I loved the raisins, though the almonds were few and far between (so much so that when I filled out the booklet they gave me and everytime I saw the word "almond" I was like "oh yeah, I saw a sliver"). What I didn't like were the yogurt clusters - which apparently had big fans in the other rejects that sat with me waiting for our checks.

They were old hats at this. Women, mid 40s to say late 50s who complained. Well most of them did, especially the one across from me. I was sort of happy she had to do the project while I got to scram.

The cereal wasn't much to look at, but I love the bowls I eat cereal from. I got them at Target years ago for a dollar a piece and have used them ever since for anything from morning foods, to dips to soups and even as a place to store my grape tomatoes.

Oh What a Difference A Year Makes - Day 32

Never before has a year been so distinct. Never before have I ever learned so much in such a little time. Never before have I felt both incredible loss and great joy at one time.

One year ago today was my first day being unemployed. I relished in the freedom knowing I would be OK for another 6 months with grand dreams of the accomplishments I had set for myself.

I was prepared, or so I thought, to redo my house, cleaning all those little spots, emptying out my lost years of junk; writing a novel to suit my artistic inspiration, with a hateable lead character that others would see deeper into, and Lily Taylor would love it and make it into an indie sensation; finish my cookbook to get me my own show on the Food Network, right next to my beloved Tyler Florence; lose all this extra weight that has hindered me from true self-love for most of my life; and knit and sew like any domesticated stay-at home wifey out there.

The first month I felt wonderful. In charge and loving my freedom, I hung out with other friends who either freelanced or were also unemployed. I still woke up early, went to the gym daily, had coffee with my neighbor from time to time, and wrote for an hour a day. It was the pressure of these fine goals that stabbed my joy right in the heart.

I had such a stressful timeline and came from a world of stress, that to relax and let it flow was foreign to me. I was hard on myself wanting it all and wanting it right now. I teased myself with little bits of each delight, but never felt satiated. I was a mess.

It wasn’t being free that drew me to insanity. It was that I wasn’t ready. Like an old lover that has so many qualities you want, but it just isn’t the time for them, I was involved in a losing situation. My relationship with my freedom choked me. After just 3 months, I began to worry about what would happen if I didn’t find a job? But I didn’t want one just yet. I liked the one-night-stand idea I was having with work. Volunteering, doing a massage or two here and there kept me feeling useful, even babysitting, but I was still so nervous about being the one in charge.

Tension and anxiety flourished as I forgot the mantra “It’s about the WOWs not the Hows”. I was in control or so I thought and I just couldn’t let go and let God, per se.

Now that I have a job and get up each morning to go put in my eight hours, I somewhat regret the wasted time. Yet, I know deep down none of it was wasted. I learned a lot about myself. Like that old boyfriend, he was a nice fit for the time, taught me a lot, but now I want something better. I changed.

A year ago I was stuck on being a great novelist, well maybe I will just be a good blogger and poet. My cookbook beckoned me to be written, that is still in the works, but developing even further. I had scheduled a month to have my house cleaned of all its memories, now I am moving slowly getting rid of 20 years of crap. I was hard on myself to achieve and succeed, now I trust myself to be OK. And the Universe will help. I used to look at spiritual guides as my yardstick to success, they now are tools for me to develop into who I am.

I have to admit, though I loved the freedom of being at home and on my own schedule, I missed the human contact. I have met some wonderful people where I work now and the connections are on a deeper level. We are sharing our understandings of life helping one another grow.
One day, not too far off, I will have exactly what I want. It will be on my own terms though.

To Dad - Day 31

Father’s Day this year fell right before my Dad’s 77th birthday. My sisters and I, with a niece in tow, went to visit my dad and celebrate both occasions at once. As usual I was assigned the task of cooking by his wife. She would never let me cook as a child since it would have created a mess, but now she waits for me to get there to work my wonders with food. My specialty with Dad is grilled scallops. He loves them. My sister Cricket made this awesome marinated shrimp. It was a nice afternoon.
After lunch, we wondered around my dad’s garden taking cuttings and anything ripe we could pick ourselves.

I cashed in on some beautiful collard greens and tomatoes, as well as some rosemary. n. Well it may actually be his second favorite next to singing karaoke and doing musical theatre.

I I rummaged through more of his garden and got shots of an African Lily and Concord Grapes. I can’t wait until fall when I get fresh grape jelly.
Happy Birthday Dad.

Scallop recipe
Dry the scallops – I usually get Sea Scallops since they are larger.
Marinate in any citrus juice and zest you have. I have used grapefruit, orange, lemon and lime.
I chop up whatever herbs I have. Usually some combo of parsley (can’t live without), basil and/or rosemary.
Marinate for a half hour.
Salt and Pepper and lay into a hot grill pan or cast iron skillet.
Let the outsides carmelize and turn.
It only takes a few minutes and is so yummy.

Reading on the Throne - Day 30

On walking into the Hub, I got pissed with myself for having to piss. I knew I should have gone in the fancy toilet at Fly. But I didn’t hear nature calling until it was too late. The Hub is not know for cleanliness, in any form. Since I drink hard alcohol, I figured if the glasses were dirty the vodka would kill it. What is it known for are strong drinks and an absolutely fabulous jukebox.

I put in my order for a Maker’s Mark manhattan and made my way to the lavatory. It was there that my inspiration came. All the reading material surrounded me and I just had to share it with you all.

I don't know Sammie, but wow, this was emblazoned about three times in my stall. Look at the circle over the "i", isn't it cute? The coward writing this should I put a heart instead.

What is a six pack grip? And is that a good or bad thing for Brian?

What stirred me most was the note left by one of my favorite Derby Darlings, Leia Flat. I haven't been able to go to a bout all season, so this brief acknowledgement that those touch girls are still out there going strong made me smile.

You have to be really drunk and maybe even experiencing the beginning of a hangover to already (in a bar) think Cuervo is a douche bag. Or was this just a note from some Patron supporter. Take it easy chickie, live and let live I say.

Note: Any blasphemous naming in these photos is purely for arts sake. I don’t know you so I don’t know if these accusations ring true or not.

The People You Meet - Day 29

Note: The next three blogs actually happened in one day. They are all very different, however so I though I would oblige them with recognition all their own. Each will be counted as a separate day.

It had been a while since Guy and I danced the light fantastic. With an overabundance of work on both of our parts and new relationships in our lives, the first thing to go was our “special marriage”.
I truly can’t remember the last time we let loose, per say and it felt good, though the next morning I was accused of “ruining” him. Let me tell you. That boy was ruined long before I met him.
There were the bits of bickering we are famous for: “You’re late”, “This isn’t about you right now, it’s about me” “Oh I forgot when I am around you I can’t say anything” and a flash of the bird.
But that’s what couples do. It always ends in a smile and a bit of wit, shaken up to a nice delicate froth that inspires winks.

We started at the Artist Emporium. It was a big fashion show night with a bunch of cool-dressed young people and pouts to surpass any issue of Vogue. The clothes were designed by blackbird and raven. Very retro-fashioned motifs with hip punk additions in a modern twist (or should that be twisted?). The models were all young and somewhat hip. Let me rephrase that. Some were hip, and others quite generic in my eyes. The brunettes inspired the flash and flare of Soho while the blondes simply looked like Valley Girls trying to go bad.

We met Renee there and she had the family in tow. Lelani, her three year old was making sure to be the center of attention playing in the band that entertained outside. She is a natural drummer with unbelievable rhythm. Guy saw an old friend there, Shelby, who happens to own the gallery. They met at the Erasure concert years ago. That was the same concert that Guy confesses he called me about, but my memory is better than his and I have no recollection of such an invite. Can you tell I am still bitter? He can.
Then off to drinks and dinner at Fly, a trendy restaurant down the road from Tampa Theatre on Franklin. Very hip and chic, the clientele was the cream of highly paid downtown society. We were the tragically unhip in the joint, especially me in jeans and my Sketchers and hobbling foot. The sundresses that mixed and matched on the femmes were a bloom of flowers and I was the compost heap. Guy, always dressed smartly in black and gray, helped balance the faux pas of my fashion.

I am not into places that are all show and no substance and Fly is a bit of both. The baby beets with blue cheese and the grilled romaine salad were luscious. The sashmi made Guy ill and the halibut was a bit too small. The portion control there explained why the patrons were wafer thin. The garlic frites were nice, but I was highly disappointed that they refused my request for mayo. I didn’t cause a scene or explain to them that if they mix oil, egg and lemon they could make me some, but I did mention to my companion that they were misnamed. Frites are Belgian, the birthplace of fries and in Belgium they are served with mayo, ketchup must be asked for and paid for. Since these were sans mayo as an accompaniment, then they should be called French Fries and not Frites. Enough on that.

Two martinis and a glass of wine down, I had to suggest twisting Guy’s arm to go to the Hub. Usually Guy is all about the pub crawl, but he was jonesing for the hot lovin’ he was going to get when this was over. I persuaded him to stay with me and promised that I would let him go after one libation at our favorite dive. We each had two manhattans.

As we sipped our strong, yet pleasantly sweet drinks, a wedding party came into the bar. The boys were the average and didn’t even catch Guy’s notice, but the ladies were stunning, well some of them. Like the fashion show, the brunettes were definitely having more fun and were better dressed. I know it seems like I have a thing for brunettes, but this was just something I noticed last night, nothing against you blonde babes – even Debbie Harry is a blonde.

Three girls immediately caught our attention, not just for their look, but their personalities, which were shining. There was the ring-leader, the maid-of-honor who was dressed like a flamenco dancer. She told us that the bride was sweet enough to let her bridesmaids choose their own dresses, with the only stipulation being that they had to be black. The senorita introduced us to her two co-horts, a Betty Boop look-alike and a very vintage woman in a beaded dress that just rang out class. We talked with them and were introduced to a sailor boy that was the flirtation of the night for Betty Boop. It was like I went back 60-odd years. Another drink down and we made our way out wishing them luck, but not saved from a portrait of Guy and I paired with Betty.

The night was still young, even if we weren’t as we journeyed over the Bay and back to St. Pete. Gas prices being what they are, a horrible mess, we stayed close to a middle point for both of us. Luna lounge at the Hilton. Deader than dead, the bar, which boasts a cool blue lit-up bar, Chihully chandeliers and overpriced drinks, housed only us and two young business guys and a hooker. Now I am not positive on the choice of profession this girl had, but evidence pointed to paid escort, and a cheaply paid one. The TV range out the highlights of the US Open as we sipped more martinis. Guy chose an expresso one, but once again it was a misnomer. It was one of those creamy froo-froo drinks and didn’t resemble any expresso I every had. But with the current generation swallowed up by what Starbucks calls an expresso (sorry Mr. Chris), it was no wonder this had cream. We then ordered a princess martini of vodka and Grand Marnier and called it a night.

Yes I had quite a lot to drink, but this binge pretty much set me up for a good month or two on the wagon. Irish heritage and years of partying practice left me buzzed, but not wallowing in drunkenness or tears. No hangovers and no lost memories so I was fine. It was a nice step back in time and hopefully into my long future with Guy.

Cookies in the Rain - Day 28

Friday was a day of feeling like crap. The medicine I am on makes me a bit ill in my tummy and compound that with a throbbing ankle – life hurts. I went into work and had to leave promptly there after. Of course this was the day that my battery decided to also be on its last legs so I had to buy one of those too. Oh the joys of auto ownership. And to think, I am considering having two of these to my name and driveway.
I sipped soda, which I only use for medicinal reasons, and laid around feeling like crap. I put all work aside and moped, then slept, which helped a tiny bit.
Barbara is a knitting and craft buddy, though she is so much better than I am at all things artsy. We also currently have another thing in common, our inactive feet. She broke her foot a few months ago and is slowly on the mend. There we sat, with our feet elevated snacking on olives from Mazzaros as the men folk chatted about golf and the rain came down.
Not wanting to cook, the foursome agreed on take-out pizza from my favorite place, Gianni’s. They just remodeled and the pizza is still wonderfully great, it’s all in the crust.
Barbara showed me a sock she is working on – her umpteenth pair I think, and said she could help me when I am ready to do socks. I started one about 5 months ago and got the top done, stopping at the heel since I no longer was a regular at the yarn store. Work sucks for screwing up my schedule.
I introduced her to Etsy, told her it would at least pay for her habit, and encouraged her to do more items.
And as the title states, there were cookies. Another Mazzaros delight, Jim and Barbara brought dessert of multicolor delights. Now I like sweets, but cookies aren’t usually my favorite. But for those that know, Mazzaros isn’t an average bakery. There treats remind me of the wondrous items I satiated myself with when in New York and Brussels. They are so wonderful and delicious that we were silent except for the moans of orgasmic, dessert elation.
Fruit filled or chocolate, sprinkled with colorful sugars or laced with powdered sweetness, these cookies are the best around. Take a bite.

On The Mend - Day 26

Note: I have been uber busy so here is an update. There will be several posts today, but they are from the past few days - Got it? Good.

Well we have word now that I will not be crippled for the rest of my life, but I won’t be running anymore and not even walking any races. That is a bit disappointing, but I look at the bright side – My ankle should be better in a few months and I will be back to working out. Now I am wearing a soft cast to keep my ankle stabilized and to keep me off of it as much as possible. Next will be a boot and then, hopefully, orthotic inserts.
I was browsing on-line for cute orthotic shoes, and actually found a few, though these will be a bit pricey and I am not a pricey shoe shopper. Mary Janes and a few sensible pumps seem to be my future in footwear, but I can make do. I love Mary Janes so adapting is a breeze. I just regret that I can’t be the cute shoe girl anymore.

This event did allow me to have an experience that brought everything back into perspective. I am pretty lucky that way. Usually when I get angry, upset or some such emotion about my own plight, the Universe sets me straight. I was pissed about the crappy insurance I have through work and how it has really screwed me – insurance only seems to be good for people who don’t need it. As I waited in line at the pharmacy to get my prescription filled, I was behind a woman who had to choose from three prescriptions she had since she couldn’t afford them all. I am not sure what her illness was, but she didn’t look too great and here she was, in a wealthy country like ours, having to choose which drugs she could afford. What if the cocktail of prescriptions were all supposed to work in unison? How would this negligence on the drug companies’ part affect her health?
Yes, I blame the drug companies for not doing what they should be doing – making cures for people and making them affordable enough for people to get them. And what about a country that allows this to happen. My anger translated into something more real that moment and I wanted to help this woman out. I asked her if I could help, not wanting to embarrass her, and she told me that it was OK, her daughter would come back later and pay for the other two. I think it was a fib to make herself feel better, she just had that look. I hobbled home and took my place in front of my TV and laptop to work as I recouped. But I can’t get her out of my head.

It's Raining, It's Pouring, I Need A Nap - Day 25

Yesterday it poured at lunch. In fact it has been pouring each afternoon and I love it. I felt very bad the other day when I was driving home slowly in the showers just happy for the water dripping down on my “really needed a bath” car, and the news had a story about the floor victims in the MidWest. Here I was excited about the rain and people were losing everything they had.
I felt a bit grateful and sad.
I just love the rain. Especially now that I have missed it so much. Even yesterday as I got stuck in my car coming back from lunch, I blessed the rain that swelled the puddles I almost tripped it. I realized one thing though. I have never watched rain fall on a pond – until yesterday. As I sat reading my book, I spied the rippling raindrops on a small pond by where I work. It was touching the way the droplets danced on the surface like hungry fishes vying for their bit of stale bread. I could hear a classical melody that was unidentified to my consciousness later, but reeled me as I willed for the rain to continue.
Deviant thoughts of making love in the rain caused another stir, and I stretched my imagination creating a cylinder of surreal thoughts to plague me. Oh happy tiny death.
I loved dancing in the rain on Monday night, but escaped the blister of lightning and thunder that warned me like a bouncer at DNA. I moved out of Mohammad’s way and let him pass as the chill soaked me through. Oh what a wonderful feeling.

Yet my neighbor's tree go struck by lightning - I wish I could have seen that.

All Work and No Play - Day 24

This statement rings the epitome of true for me lately. I have been working like crazy, but took time to peek outside the office window and spy on my new kitties. Tortoise-shell Ma-Ma had her second batch of kittens about a month ago. They have now taken to exploring between my neighbor’s and my yards, with mommy close by. I just had to snap a shot or two of these pesky rascals. The tiger-striped one is called T2 since he is named after Tigger from the first batch. (I did not do the naming) Then there is Little Lassie, a smaller version of another first batcher and the all black is Shadow, because he is truly a shadow.
Misha doesn’t know these wee ones exist, but that’s OK he is still trying to break out of his introverted cage and play with the other ones nicely.
Ronn thinks that soon Misha will have a pal – an indoor pal with Lassie. Lassie has taken a shine to me and has let me pet and scratch his head. He wants to play with Misha, but they are over a decade apart, like a toddler wanting to play with grandpa, though there is no family justification for Misha to move from his napping space.
Tuxedo Boy, Tuxedo Boy,
Gives us all lots of Tuxedo Joy,
He can prance, in his spats,
And he doesn’t care who laughs at that,
Look out, here comes Tuxedo Boy.

Retail Therapy - Day 23

With the current halting to my spending, which I haven’t been very good at, I have resigned myself to using only gift cards and gift certificates for my need to buy things. For Christmas and my birthday, I received an abundance of gift cards for Dots, HomeGoods, Joanne Fabrics and bookstores, as well as certificates to restaurants and on-line vendors. I stashed them away. I hate blowing my load all at one time.
So I thought these would be great reward pieces for me completing my tasks. These are the tasks I listed as goals for the year – one being to spend less money.
It all started out well with my Amazon gift certificate from Heidi and Paul. I received these books yesterday. It is hard to top the thrill of coming home from work with a package waiting for me on my doorstep. The best is when I forget I ordered anything and then it is a surprise.
Thank you Heidi and Paul and the gang for these new books. Craftivity is a great addition to my collection of artsy craftsy books. This one was actually a hit at work where I saw it on a co-worker’s desk and perused the pages almost drooling. I was so excited not just by the suggested crafts, but from what it inspired in my mind. Confession time: I don’t need any more suggestions for my time or tasks to start and not finish for months, but I wanted it. I particularly was drawn to the knitting and crochet projects, as well as to the glass and metal. I would love to make the cool chandelier and the mosaic tiles. Since Ronn has tools like saws and cutters and such, I don’t even have to spend a lot. I also particularly liked the sewing project of making panties out of T-shirts. Anyone interested in a pair of John Kerry underwear???

So I feel better, retail therapy is done and I only spent $3.
Of course I went and ruined this relief to my finances by using one of my restaurant gift certificates and spending a crapload on dinner. I did save $25, but it still cost more than I had planned. It was the extra sushi roll and the sakitini – which wasn’t that great to begin with. Oh well, now I am poor again and no spending for me. Not even the dollar or two for yarn at Big Lots. I am cut off – really cut off. And I will be punished. No going out for me for the rest of the month, or for the next two weeks (that is more do-able). I have my freelance to keep me busy, innumerable knitting projects and of course my books to read. You never know, Ronn may like the naughty stories, and that is always free.

Thank You - Day 21

I wasn't my normal self yesterday. I am overtired, overworked and overpessimistic, plus I think I have a fever. It is days like this that overshadow all the wonders I have in my life. I have to force myself to wake up and see all the good things and be grateful for it all. This is work. It’s so much easier to get pissy and complain that I am overtired because I have to work so much since I don’t have someone to take care of me financially, overworked because in order to live at the standard I live at – which is not a Rockefeller – I have to work and not be a lady who lunches, I get pessimistic since I relinquish myself to be runover by my foul mood. Blah!
So there. I gave the negative side its turn to spout off, now the real me can emerge.
I am grateful for my health. I have eyes that can read wondrous pages, fingers to write and type my own tales, a mouth to taste kisses and chocolate and ears to hear “I love you” several times a day.
I am grateful to be able to appreciate beauty in nature, people, actions and things. I saw a pink and blue sky this morning as I lay in bed, a sunflower as I went off to work.
I am thankful for my job. Though it is only a stepping stone to what I will one day do full-time, it works well giving me challenges to hone my writing skills, creatively helping me muster the courage to do more and giving me acquaintances that share some of my own thoughts while expanding them.
I am grateful for my intellect, curiosity and creativity. I have been blessed with a quick mind and quick wit that sometimes gets me into trouble and sometimes out of it. I have had to make do on many occasions and yet I always come out on top thanks to my mind and spirit working in unison. My love of learning (about anything) has helped me make friends of all kinds since my interests vary so much.
I am thankful for my friends. Those ladies and gentlemen are the world to me. Though we don’t always agree and have many different habits, there is no judgment or if there is it is face-to-face and followed by “whatever, it’s your life. If you need anything I will always be there.” That is true friendship.They are more than friends, but mentors and role models that have been through it all. When they say they understand, they really do and yet they laugh now at how far they have come.
I am grateful for my kitties, especially Misha. He came to me as a gift and opened my heart when it was crumbling. Now I am the crazy-cat lady with a load of kitties in my backyard from two particular litters. I love them all and debate whether to take the feral out of them, but so far my pleasure is feeding them and watching them at play.
I am also especially grateful for Guy. My best friend. We fight like brother and sister with laughter usually ending it. His wit is astounding and it conquers all. Our relationship has withstood illness, unemployment, death, taxes, cross-country trips and plain persnicketiness. He is one of the greatest gifts I ever received.
I am grateful for my home and what I have made of it. I took a big step in buying my own home 9 years ago, but it has become my refuge. I love it. Even all the issues and inconveniences are minor when I proudly boast it is mine and all mine. This took some doing since all around me there were women telling me how wrong it was to buy a house on my own – but I played by my own rules and am glad I did.
I am grateful for my history because it gives me a great story to write. Going through what I went through has not only made me a better person today, but has created so much character that I amaze myself when I look back at my pain. The fire of mental illness, destitution, suicide, loneliness and abandonment burned me to the core, but when this phoenix was reborn I learned to stand on my own feet. It’s not romantic, and it is hard sometimes, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I am grateful for my family. My mother taught me to be independent and to strive. My siblings taught me to stand on my own two feet and my dad made sure that happened.
I am thankful for my spirituality. My faith in the power of love and the power within myself is what keeps me sane. By following simple steps to connect closer to the Universe, like writing a list of what I am grateful for, I am made whole. It is definitely a Zen gift.

Run as Fast as You Can - Day 20

The process has started, or so I hope. I finally found a doctor to help me with my ankle issue. I have been wearing the bandage on my ankle for so many months now that I wouldn’t be surprised if it becomes a fashion trend this fall.
My last doctor, who I saw back in March, only told me to rest and gave me Anaprox for the pain and swelling, this new guy who I see next week should actually fix the problem.
Always my weak point, this problem came to a head 2-1/2 years ago when I twisted my ankle leaving yoga class. The ground was slippery and I was in sandals and ugh – pain. My boyfriend at the time offered to help me with elevation, ice and compression (the RICE solution), but I refused since I had dinner to make and things to do. (I have never been a big one for accepting help, it bothers me to do it, but I have gotten better. I guess I just need more help now.)
I stayed off it for a week, but I was in training for the Nike Women’s Marathon in San Francisco. I couldn’t disappoint my team or myself, so I went back to training. The twist occurred in August and the race was at the end of October so I figured I would be OK by then, and I was. I finished with no problems, but the normal swelling and aches associated with endurance racing.
Good, you say, you knocked another thing off your list and then you got help. Nope. I went on to do the Mayor’s Midnight Run in Anchorage the following year. I couldn’t stop since it meant so much to me to go to Alaska, with Guy, on the 10th anniversary of his diagnosis. We did the half together, walking to not miss a thing and it was wonderful. That was one of the best trips in my life with Guy as my companion. It strengthened our friendship and made me fall in love with Alaska.
Knowing that I probably wouldn’t be doing another race for a while, if ever, I should have started on the process to get back into gear. But no. I had other trips, lots of responsibility at work, the holidays and of course a feeling that I would be OK, no matter what.
Well now I am taking the true steps to getting this fixed. The problem has become so severe that I can sometimes barely walk, much less run. My exercise plan has been stinted, though I am still doing arms and abs. Plus I hate feeling so old in the morning. This really has slowed me down and I am done with it. I pray that this new doctor can help me out and get me back to something of my old self.

Escaping the Mundane – Day 19

A false title for a rather mundane day. But I seem to find pleasure in some of the most simple things – things that carry me away from boredom.
Today was mostly about work and with that a new book I am listening to. I find that listening to books while I work on this Web stuff keeps my mind occupied enough to make it so I don’t go stir-crazy. Today’s book is Escape by Carolyn Jessup. She was a woman involved in a polygamous relationship with the FLDS (Fundamentalist Church of Latter Day Saints) or something like that. A woman in my book club suggested it and it was available through the on-line library so why not. This project is going to take a hell of a lot of hours and I need to keep myself entertained.
I was so drawn in that I pushed through my task at lightning speed. So far I am at her being a newlywed in a marriage to an older man that she never chose. It is a life so foreign to me that the interest is detailed enough to make me stay up late. I wanted to stay latched to my computer instead of spending the day with Ronn.
This is not as bad as it sounds. Ronn and I spend plenty of time doing our own thing. I think it has to do with the fact we are both very independent people. But today was his golf day and I had to hear the gruesome details of cult life. Now I am not very familiar with cults, though I did grow up near Clearwater, the hub of Scientology. I don’t really care to much for religion, cult or otherwise. Yet I do like to attend the Unity Church from time to time, but they are very different, very accepting and a bit of an intellectual experience in their hour-long service. So far I noticed that other religions, Scientology and such, don’t like people to think for themselves so I have never been too inspired.
This book is a wonder however. The strength of the author alone to leave with her kids into a world she knew nothing about and one that had been banged into her psyche as one of evil is overcoming almost impossible odds. Plus I wouldn’t want to be married and share my man.
After watching Real Sex on HBO, I could see the draw to the swinging lifestyle, but not the 24/7 “who’s in charge with another wife” one. Plus the whole baby-making thing puts me off. Sex (at least for me) isn’t about pro-creation.
Thank you all for reading and please don’t trip over my soap-box on your way out.

But the day wasn’t all work and polygamy. This morning I got to sleep-in and then watch the latest American episode of Dr Who. (Rose is coming back, I think). Yes I am a geek, because I rewound it to make sure that was Rose and I barely stopped myself from calling Patrick to say, “OMG did you see it, Rose????” No I had some restraint.

The evening was quiet, as well as I visited my Dad at his condo on the beach. It’s one of those time-share things and he loves it. He gets one week a year to be a beach bum. Last year he had to miss it since the day before he was supposed to leave he had a stroke. Of course he was more concerned about missing his week than his health. It was OK since I worried enough for both of us. He is doing great and got his week this year so all is well. Since he retired, my dad has been the cultivator and grows a plethora of vegetables all year round. It’s always a delight to visit him since I have no idea what I will come home with – a fig tree, cucumbers, oranges, tomatoes, an avocado tree. It rocks.

So now I am back at work, taking a break from the book and the cigars, and soon to return to my tasks so I can get my check.
BTW – Did you see Rose???