Beautiful Boy

It has been almost a year since I have wrote a new post. Part of the problem has been Facebook. It is easier to share a quick meme, or write a funny quip than to search my soul for something to say here. The interaction, although more immediate, is superficial. It is the McBlog of the Internet. The other part of the problem is that my life doesn't change much. I looked at the date on my last post and wondered what is different today. I am only a few months away from forty now, but those numbers never have meant much to me. The only time I cringe is when a I meet interesting twenty something men and know I am going to have to say the number eventually. The actual saying of it never means much to either of us in the end.

Waking up this morning my thoughts went immediately to the vegetable bars on my table. I had eaten two of them before going to bed at 3:30 this morning and I wanted another one. I have become addicted to them. After eating a couple I started to search out my copy of Jane Eyre. While searching shelves and piles of books I kept coming across other books I wanted to read. I found a book I picked up cheap at at used book store called "Beautiful Boy a father's journey through his son's addiction" I don't remember my motivation for buying it, but now it seems relevant to my life. I carry it over to the table beside my bed which serves as a holding space for books I'm going to read. With my original goal ending in despair I lay down to start this book. It is a bad idea because I am nowhere near finished with my book club book and our meeting is next week. Right away my tears start rolling down the sides of my face while I read. The father describes his son and the physical changes he notices. That is the hardest part, looking at your son so full of potential, seeing his thin face while your mind automatically overlays it with the full, youthful face of a year ago. I put the book down soon after I start. The similarities in our stories end quickly. I am jealous of the active role these parents play in their adult son's addiction. They have curfews and drug tests, confrontations about whether he has started using again. Our story is a rural Midwestern story. My son dropped out of school, lives with roommates living the same lifestyle as he is. There is no denial, no missed AA meetings, and my role is to pray every night that my son will not end up in prison or dead. These are not the sort of thoughts I can post on Facebook.

Hemmingway

I have been reading about Hemminway, again. As a liberal woman with a distaste for overly masculine, domineering men I spend more time defending him than I should. The thing about Hemmingstein is that he is complex. I wonder if we are all this complex or are most of us simple beings? Would I have thought him complex if I had known him, or is it being able to look at his life as a whole that makes his conflicting thoughts and actions stand out. I do know that I would not have been one of the women who fell for him. I have problem with authority too. He would have soon referred to me as 'that bitch'.

shopping

Okay, so after thinking about it for several years I am finally shopping for a sex toy. Tonight I am starting the research process. After just five minutes I realize there is so much I don't know. A vulva pump, who would have thought those existed? ...Most of these pages have a like on facebook option at the bottom. What would my kids, or their teachers, think of that. ...$175 for a wand? I don't even think Olivander's would have charged that much. ...   Dual function, as a multitasker I like the sound of that. ...Oh boy a video on usage. I haven't watched porn in 20 years, not sure I'm up to it. ...

changes

Jason moved out on Sunday and is officially in college. Last night the girls left to visit their mom. The house was so quiet I couldn't sleep. I have secretly always thought I might enjoy an empty nest, thank God I am not there yet, but now I know it will take a lot of getting used to. Lane is gone tonight so I am here all alone. Fria Chica and my mom came over and drank a bottle of pomagranate wine with me. It was delicous.

I have been single for over a year now, and I have to say it has been a great year. Dh has made it clear he would like to reconcile and move back in, but I don't think I could take it. Life is so peaceful without him. Also he would frown on me continuing to take lovers. I am between right now. It seems like men want either too much or too little, so it is easy to move on to the next one. I am becoming a right slut.

life

My list of projects that need completed just keeps growing. Jason stepped through the bathroom floor, that need fixed. Ramona and Beezus need their room painted. The front door frame needs fixed. My cob hot tub is getting so close to being finished, I am starting to imagine it will work. Throw the house cleaning, gardening, and cob house building on to the list and I feel like I am moving backwards. No I am moving backwards. The list just keeps growing.

On a more interesting note I have noticed something odd. I only seem to date men who are inappropriate for a long term relationship. I think it must be a defense mechanism. Not that I am dating much, it seems that men I find interesting don't come along often. The comedian I spent a couple of days with in March lives too far away. The boy who I have been spending time with for the last two weeks is 14 years younger than me. I think someday I will be ready for a relationship and start dating more appropriate men, but until then I am going to just enjoy life as it comes.

Baking bread

I posted these without any words because I wasn't feeling talkative that day. The top picture is of bread inside my cob oven, which I love. The second is of a finished loaf and the rhubarb-strawberry jam I also made that day. I will add a funny story about the rhubarb in a minute. First I want to talk about making bread. Years ago I received a bread machine for Christmas. I loved it. The only problem I had with it was that I could only make one loaf at a time, not being Jesus, one loaf was never enough. The next December my bread machine quit. I talked to a friend and hers had lasted only one year also. My mom had one she never used so I went and borrowed it on a long term plan. In one year it also quit. I know people who have had better luck, but for me they only last one year. I could not stand the thought of filling up the landfill by buying a new one every year so I went without for a few weeks. Then I found an amazing book at a library book sale for $.10. It was called Bake Your Own Bread And Be Healthier. Since day one I have enjoyed bread making so much more manually then I ever did with a machine. With the machine the end product was the important part. With my hands the best parts are the feel of the dough, the connection to women who have been kneading bread for centuries, and making several loaves at once. Bread has become more than just a food I love, it is a lifelong endeavor.

Now the rhubarb. For a couple of years now an older man has been coming into the office to talk every week or so. In the summer he brings me rhubarb and other vegetable from his garden. He sustained injuries during WW2 that make his speech slow and slurred, but if you listen he is easy to understand. A few days before this picture was taken he came in and laid a bag of rhubarb on the counter. I thanked him and we talked for a few more minutes. I needed to get back to work so I picked up the bag and thanked him again. He then said, "can I have a kiss for that?" I turned my head towards him, and I'm sure I looked puzzled, and asked, "What?" He replied, "Can I have a hug for that?" I thought what the hell and leaned in for a shoulder touching embrace. He put his hand on the small of my back and pulled me to him. The old guy was stronger than he looked so it took quite a bit of struggling to get away from him. He seemed to enjoy the struggling. I ran back into my office area, looked at my coworker, and announced, "I think the price of rhubarb has went up."

spring

I have been enjoying the hell out of spring. We are already eating green onions and asparagus out of the garden. Yesterday I baked bread in the cob oven and made strawberry-rhubarb jam to go with it. I have been truly experiencing domestic bliss. While watching t.v. with a couple of friends, it was my first experience with Desperate Housewives, a character mentioned how hard divorce was. I must be the exception because this has been a great year for me. I feel goofy some days about how cheerful I am.

cruise

Last week I was a sponsor on Jason's senior trip. We flew to Charleston S.C. and boarded a Carnival cruise ship bound for the Bahamas. It was a great time. I have always scorned cruises as a vacation. They are the for the type of vacationers who spend most of their time around the resort pool and eat at American food chains avoiding local food. After having been on a cruise I have to say I was right, but that did not make it any less fun. Yes I came home with only the vague idea that I had been to the Bahamas, but I also brought some great stories about the fun we had. The staff was unbelievable accommodating. One of the fly on entertainers was even nice enough to give me a foot-rub while we talked. Being on a ship with 2000 other guests did make me notice how introverted I still am. Discounting the people I talked to because Cole, a special needs student who was with us, is the opposite of me and wanted to meet everybody I only had conversations with around 10 people.When I travel I have to take extroverted people with me otherwise I may just alternate between staring at the horizon, reading, and eating. One nice point was that I had several long conversations with Cole mother. We have been friends for years, but rarely sit and talk.