We had has a great day, but the truth was that we still needed help. I made a new list of people to call. The next day I called the place in Liberal back. They answered the phone. The lady was nice and helpful. She said that they would do everything they could to help Jason. She started taking our information. What is your zip code she asked. I told her and she apologized. We were out of there service area she explained. She recommended that I call Garden City Area Mental Health. We were in their service area.  I could not comprehend. We live 55 miles from Liberal and 86 miles from Garden. I explained that we had trouble getting in to see a psychiatrist in Garden. She gave me the name of a private psychologist in Liberal.
I made him an appointment. We could get in later in the week. We spent most nights lying in my bed with me reading to him. Sometimes at two in the morning he would charm me into making him a sandwich. We read Dorothy Sayers stories, Murder in Mesopotamia by Agatha Christie. I talked him into letting me read one of my favorites, The Dark Is Rising. He laughed when I was the one who had a bad dream about The Walker. When I was too tired to read he would watch one of the Indiana Jones movies while I slept.
I wasn't sure what to think of the psychologist. Jason was having a bad day. On the drive over he told me not to talk to him. If I was not going to tell him about what was going on, why everybody in the world was fucking with him, then he did want to hear anything I had to say.  We had been over all of this so many times in the past months that it no longer phased me. I turned up the radio; he closed his eyes and laid his head back.
 We arrived in town with ten minutes to make it to the office. He was hungry and I had scheduled him an hour and a half session. At his insistence I drove through Taco Bell's drive through. He looked at the board and decided what he wanted. What do you want? he asked me. Nothing I told him, I ate before we left the house. He insisted I get something. No, I was not hungry. As I pulled forward to order we were still arguing. I yelled I DON'T WANT ANYTHING! "Oh, ok," came a voice from the speaker.
We pulled up to the address and were puzzled. It was a house. We had both expected an office building. There was a wheel chair ramp, which made me think this could be the right place. Jason refused to go in unless I checked first. I am not walking in on some family eating supper, he explained.
I went to the door and was greeted by three large dogs. Another large dog growled from underneath a desk. I waved at Jason to come up. I am not a pet owner myself, but find that pet owners often are more kind and less selfish people than I am. I petted the dogs and sat on a sofa. Jason sat beside me and played with the dogs while we waited. Even with the lightened mood, caused by food and laughter, Jason would not let me go into the psychologist office with him. I wanted to talk to her because I was afraid Jason would not explain what was going on. He had a tendency to make light of it when talking to anyone else.
He went in while I read a book. At one point I was alone in the room when the 6 month old great dane came running into the room, skidded to a stop, and peed a huge puddle in the middle of the floor. This kind of behavior is why I am not a pet owner. I looked around for paper towels. Not seeing any I settled back down to my book.
At the end of the meeting Jason and the psychologist walked into the room. Thankfully another psychologist in the office had already came through and cleaned up the puddle. I asked about medication and asked if he had mentioned his trouble sleeping. She said they had discussed his sleep problem and she had given him some pointers. She said she would like to see him again before recommending medication. She could not prescribe them herself, but would work with his family doctor to get them for him.
It worried me that she seemed dismissive of his lack of sleep. I was sure he had not explained the problem fully to her. Lack of sleep made his delusions much worse. Some days he was only able to sleep for a couple of hours a day. After several days of this he would usually crash for a whole day. I was convinced that he needed anti-psychotics to help him get over the delusions. He had been meth free for a month now, but his delusions were not diminishing much. Going a whole week more before even talking about medication worried me. Maybe she was right though. I am not a professional.

She said that next time she would like to talk to both of us. She noticed my skeptical look at Jason and assured me that Jason had already agreed to this. In the car Jason said that he did not want anyone he knew talking to her. He explained. She may be able to help me, he said, and he did not want anyone roping her into the conspiracy too. He needed to be able to trust her.

In the care

Best day ever

In the parking lot Jason held me as I cried. Suddenly we had flipped. I was the fragile one and he was in charge. He took the car keys and told me to get in. We drove to Freddy's Frozen Custard where he ordered us both cheeseburgers and fries. Often I avoid such food, but today it tasted so good. I cried as we sat and ate. He smiled at the workers and acted like it was perfectly normal for me to just cry in public. He ordered us a sundae to share. He told me it would be fine. He explained that he had made a choice to do drugs and that now he was paying the price, but that he would get better. We talked about the importance of finding little things to smile about when life got hard. He cracked jokes and made me laugh.
In the car again he said we were going to the zoo. What is your favorite animal he asked. The big cats I replied. Especially the panthers. He took me to the zoo. He was able to walk better now, but a block or two still wore him out. We went to the map and found the most direct route to the large cats. It was quite a walk. He was wore out by the time we got there. Of course the cats had been moved. They had been placed in a new exhibit on the other side of the zoo. I suggested we just go, I had seen enough great animals already. He had made me laugh all through our walk. We stopped and played with the monkeys. I was in a great mood. No, he insisted we see the cats. By the time we arrived there he was tired, pale, and sweating. He sat and rested for the walk back to the car.
My day had been a roller coaster of emotion. Much like my life seemed to be becoming. Jason had some good days when we could laugh and talk and then some days when he was too tortured internally to concentrate. I came to appreciate a few hours of sleep as much as a parent of a newborn child does.

Getting help turned out to be much harder than I expected. We still had the appointment for the 28th, but that was too far away. I rescheduled the Monday one we had missed while Jason was in the hospital. They were able to get us in that following Monday. We live close to the Oklahoma state line. His appointment was in the closest large town to us Guymon Oklahoma.
Jason had been lucky. The nearly two grams of meth he had swallowed had not caused any permanent damage. He had had kidney failure and liver damage, but they were both functioning when we left the hospital and expected to be healed in a few weeks time. He had experienced a severe case of Rhabdomyolysis which left him unable to walk long distances or jump, but this too was expected to heal. He slept through the weekend while we waited for the appointment. His psychosis was just as bad as before.
On Monday he was cranky. Walking to the car exhausted him. He was irritated that I was lying to him about my part in the conspiracy against him. In the waiting room we filled out pages of paperwork. He was polite to everybody. He was always polite, even in his worst moods. We could walk into any building and he would try to make the workers smile.
In the counselors office we were told they could not help us. We were out of state. Out of their service area. They advised us to call Liberal Ks. It is not far from us either. I started crying. I could tell they felt bad, but I could not stop crying. Jason went outside to wait for me while I wrote down the phone numbers they gave me.
On the drive home I called the Liberal office several times. There was no answer. I called Area Mental Health in Garden City. Which is where we had our appointment for the 28th. They would not move his appointment up. I cried some more. Jason told me it would be fine. He could wait.
The next day I tried making him an appointment with a private psychiatrist in a town near us. She could not see him until December.
We decided to wait for the Area Mental Health appointment. He was still hearing the voices in his head, but everyday he seemed to improve a bit in how he handled them. He began to smile and make jokes during the day. At night he had trouble falling asleep. I read to him most nights, while Indiana Jones played loudly in the dvd player. I had always liked it dark and quiet while I slept. I learned to sleep with the movie playing loudly and a lamp on, because that is what was best for him. If he woke in the middle on the night and could not fall back to sleep he would wake me to read to him. I tried to take a nap after work to make up for some of the sleep I was missing.
They had told me on the 4th when I made the appointment that I would need to confirm it 24hrs in advance. They said they would call the day before that to remind me. I remembered that 24 hour bit. Unfortunately, I believe because I was sleep deprived and stressed out, I did not think that 24 hours before a Monday appointment is actually Friday. I picked up to call Sunday morning. That is when I realized I had fucked up.
I called early Monday morning to see what could be done. They had cancelled his appointment, and we would have to reschedule for next month. I stood in the parking lot and cried as I spoke to them. I insisted they see him. The receptionist told me that if I had him there at 2, and we could not be late, they would see him today. I was relieved.
We walked in at 1:55. For some reason, and I still do not understand why, they would not see him. He did not have an appointment. There had been two Jason's on the list. The young girl explained. I clicked the wrong one. I cried some more. I insisted. Jason sat on a chair with his head in his hands. There was nothing to do. I stood there in front of them and cried.
Finally Jason put his arms around me and told me it would be ok. He thanked the staff and we left.

The search begins

My life became focused on Jason when he moved back in with me in July. He was sick, very sick. The drug had caused serious psychosis. It took months to gain his trust and convince him to seek help. He was afraid of doctors. He did not want to quit the drug. Even though he said he did. He wanted to find a way to be well mentally without having to give up the drug or his lifestyle. This was not possible.

He cut back to using about once a week. This did not give his mind time to heal. He would get more and more irritable until he would go out and use again. Some days it would almost be a relief, because I knew we would have at least one good day. I made sure he ate. I would read to him when he could not sleep, which was often. His brain tortured him. He was sure everybody could read his mind. This is a common delusion with meth addicts. He would hide under the house some nights. He was tortured and scared. He needed help.

On October 4th I convinced him to see somebody. I made two appointments. One, the place our family doctor had recommended, could not see him until the 28th. The other place could see him on Monday. It was Friday. We only had to make it through the weekend.  Saturday he packed a bag and left. He told me he would be back in a week or two. I made him promise to be home in time for his appointment Monday. Sunday I went to the movie with a friend.

My phone went crazy when I turned it on after the movie. Jason had swallowed almost two grams of meth in an attempt to kill himself. He would have succeeded had my sister not found him. After a week in a hospital in Amarillo. We were home. I had tried to convince the doctor to keep him longer, to bring in a psychiatrist, anything but just release him. To everybody's shock he said that Jason was fine, he just needed to stay away from drugs, and sent him home with me. Now the search for help began.

Otherness

    This summer I have been taking the fiction course The Fiction Of Relationships offered by Coursera. One of my few regrets in life has been that I missed out on the college experience, not the degree, or the drinking, or sleeping around, the actual classroom lectures and discussions. When I discovered free online courses I was more than excited. This is the first one I signed up for and I love it.
    Having moved several times in my childhood there are large holes in my English/Literature education. Every state has different requirements and every school a different curriculum. I have tried on my own to fill in those gaps by reading many classics over the years, but many of them are still there. This summer I have read Kafka, Melville, and Borges for the first time. Reading the books caused me to set them down and think deeply about life, but Prof. Weinstein's lectures have taken that to a new level.
     Reading Kafka gave me chance to structure my thoughts on otherness. His stories provided a framework to fit them on. Otherness in society is something I have thought a lot about over the years, but without calling it just that. I was born other. Not by genetics, but by circumstance was I placed slightly outside of society's pale. My childhood, along with my many siblings, was a result of a woman with some neurosis marrying and procreating with a man with a growing psychosis. As a result they were never good providers. We moved a lot. Teachers unintentionally didn't invest much time or energy in us. Friends came and went too quickly. We started most school years as the new kids. I'm not complaining, for the most part I enjoyed my childhood. I am simply explaining that I do understand what it means to be the other.
     My graduation day is mostly a blur, but the one clear memory I have is of watching the students who had graduated from kindergarten together, and now high school too, group up to take a photo. I understood in that moment what roots were. I vowed that my children would have them.
    In that quest to give my children roots I quit being other. That scared feeling that filled me every time I walked into a bank slowly dissolved. I became the mother who talked to her children's teachers, being open and honest, never needing to hide a family secret. Honesty was something which was foreign to me before; we always had secrets. I taught Sunday School, baked cupcakes for school, went to work full time, got elected to the school board, all things that seemed to belong to a different world when I was a child. By the time my children graduated I had fully integrated myself into society. A part of me wanted out.
    Borges suggests that we can take both forks of a path when we come to them. That life is a labyrinth which we can explore fully. Coming from the outside it is easy to see the falseness of society. Why is a long marriage good and teenage pregnancy bad? One is natural and the other is usually forged on sacrifice and lies. How come people get to feel superior to others as if their faults are not as bad? Who made this scale that deems lying a lighter fault than drinking too much? Does driving a nice car and living in a nice house really make you more successful?
     Slowly and without realizing it I have been reclaiming a bit of my otherness. There are rumors that I am wild now. They are not true, but I like that they exist. I am not going out more, or even as much as some single women do. It is simply that it is not what people expect of me. I am not staying inside lines they have drawn for me. The problem is trying to take both roads at the same time. I realized just recently that I have started to feel like I don't belong again. In this small town where I have lived for over twenty years, where I know everybody, I have a feeling of not being good enough. I do not know where this came from. I just realized it was there. That is not a part of the otherness I want back. I am stepping away from society, just a bit, because I want to, not because they will not have me. That should give me a sense of pride. Somehow I need to find my center and balance.

   

distractions

     Friday night I cooked a large meal because Jason was coming home to have supper with me. I knew that this was likely not to happen. He rarely makes it home, even when he has assured me he will be here. While the chicken was in the oven I set an alarm and laid down for a quick nap. As I was drifting off to sleep I was thankful that I was born with a cheerful disposition. I have been able to survive in this world with very few scars. Suddenly,and without me asking for such a sight, a vision of a skinless body appeared in my head. It was similar to the type in science textbooks, only more flesh and blood. The body was covered with silvery white scars, covered. The sight shocked me awake. There would be no nap.
     We were planning to eat at eight. Hour by hour the time was pushed back until Jason was going to be here late and only stay for ten minutes or so. Several people had called me through the day and invited me out that night. The thought of sitting at home waiting for him to drop by seemed an act of desperation, so I called him and told him I was going out and we could make it another night.
    While I was calling around to get a group together Lane came home. He asked me if I was okay. Not just with tonight but with everything.  I assured him I was, and truly believed it. I have always been good at compartmentalizing emotions so they can be dealt with at more convenient times. Having made plans for the night I called Sofia to invite her. Of course she was concerned that Jason did not come home. She asked me the wrong/right question. "Don't you want to grab him and....and... do something?" "Of course," I replied. "I want to grab him and bring him home and make him be my baby again." She understood immediately. "Wrap him in a blanket and hold him all day." She added. Tears were streaming down my face. My red, wet eyes made putting eyeliner on difficult. This uncontrollable balling was going to make going out difficult. I told her the truth. "You are no fun; I can't talk to you right now."  My weekend was then filled with distractions; drinking, dancing, eating, and very little sleep.

A supper date

I had a texting conversation with Jason today. Sadly I probably would not have texted him except for that his father called me at work today. He was concerned since he had not talked to Jason since Sunday. I too had not talked to my son since Sunday, but not being a worrier I had not felt any concern about the time-span. I sent a text instructing Jason to answer me so I could set his father's mind at ease, which I knew was full of death, jail, and hospitalization scenes. Jason responded quickly, and with good humor, to remind me he was both busy and an adult. We sent a few amusing texts back and forth which ended in him suggesting we get together soon. We have agreed on supper at my house on Friday. I really hope he comes. His brother Lane spent time with him last weekend and reports that he is looking healthier. I want to see this with my own eyes. I would not trade my offspring for anybody on this earth. Even during the trying times they are three of the most interesting, entertaining people on earth.

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's mother. We have been friends for years, but rarely sit and talk.

I. need. sleep.

Monday night was a overlong school board meeting; we are dealing with major budget cuts, which means some positions may have to go. That is not the subject of this post though, that is just to set up why I am so damn tired and cranky. After working the next day I drove 45 miles to watch Jason and Lane play basketball, picked up groceries and pizza and drove home. It was 11:00 and I was ready for bed. A friend was at my house waiting for me. Her and her husband had been in a fight. I wanted her to stay with me, but she knew this was the first place her husband would look. I drove her 17 miles, that is the closest hotel, and bought her a room. I climbed into bed at 1:30 in the morning. At 5:30 her husband called. At 6:30 my alarm went off, I didn't have to work today but Jason wanted woke up early. He didn't get up. At 7:00 my alarm went off again. I tried to rouse the troupe, I hit snooze just in case. Ten minutes later half of them were up. At 7:35 I was screaming "Get out of your fucking beds and go to school." I drove everybody but Jason to school.
It turns out Jason was actually feeling terrible and needed to see a doctor. He has bronchitis. I picked my friend up while we out and drove her to her house. I am not sure if she is gathering her stuff to move back to Miami or if she has decided to stay. After dropping her off I came home for a shower, cup of tea, and time to watch the newest Daily Show and Cobert Report. I need to get dressed and walk over to check on her. Jason has an awards banquet tonight so I will drive 45 minutes there, but the food is supposed to be great, I doubt they serve wine, which is what I want.

Happiness

Last night I decided to start a book I have been planning to read for years, A Tale Of Two Cities.
I did not make it very far, Mr Lorry had not yet made it off the mail coach before I fell asleep. I woke this morning and resumed reading over a cup of Earl Grey and toast with jam. There is a lot to say for the restorative powers of literature. I climbed out of bed turned on a alt music station and was overcome with a desire to dance. Dance I did. I am here in my house with my children and happy. What more can girl ask for? Oh, as a bonus I have won $4 dollars on a powerball ticket. I rarely buy lottery tickets, on an impulse yesterday I picked one up, and am officially a winner.

Two weeks seems to be the amount of time it takes me to get over a man. It doesn't matter if it is a husband of many years of a boyfriend of a few months, two weeks will do it every time.
I broke up with the Cuban last Monday. Today I woke up early did some reading, and had tea with a bagel before I took stock of myself at the one week point. I am right on track. My first weekend single again was nice. It was beautiful outside. I replaced some weak boards on my porch, I burned tumble weeds, read my book for book club. The whole thing left me feeling energized and alert. On a short walk yesterday evening I ran into him. We had a pleasant conversation, you know the whole' como estas?' and  'como es Anna?'*. No riveting conversation and afterwards I had no regrets.
It was an amicable break-up. I knew going in to the relationship we were at different points in our life. I would have felt guilty beginning something I was sure was going to end if I had thought he truly loved me, but I suspected a love that started that fast would cool off quickly too. It ended before it cooled enough to cause fights and pain. In fact the only problem with the whole thing is that after having him around for three months, and I mean constantly around, I became used to him being here. I am a bit addicted to him.The first three days were rough, but I am getting better every day.
We never were in love. What we had was great chemistry. As a matter of fact after this two week period I am going to give serious thought to presenting the friends with benefits package.

*My neighbor and great friend Anna has been diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer. We are starting some serious wine therapy.

Books in 2011

• Selpuchre
• The Big Over Easy
• The Glass Castle
• The Art Of Racing In The Rain
• One Of Our Thursdays is Missing
• The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo
• Light A Penny Candle
• *Winter Solstice
• The Unexpected Mrs. Polliflax
• Tender Is The Night
• What Is The What
• The Blind Assasin
• Fool's Puzzle
• The Lord Of The Flies
• Lost In Translation
• Of Mice and Men
• To Kill A Mockingbird
• The Boy Who Loved Ann Frank
• Number The Stars
• Spoken From The Heart
• The Stormy Night
• Sarah's Key
• Fool
• Flowers In The Rain
• The Secret Life Of Bees
• *The Secret Garden
• *Me Talk Pretty Some Day
• The Shack
• *Dreams from my father
• September

* Re-reads

These are the 30 books I read in 2011. Not a big reading year for me. I started well, but life kept getting in the way.

Blessings

Well I never did really commit to Nanowrimo this year, so while I did do a bit of playing around with it I came nowhere near finishing, or starting for that matter.

People who spend time with me may be shocked to find out how strong my faith is. That is because my faith is personal not something I go on about; I certainly don't need the President to help me thank God, that is my job. Today I have been reflecting back on my life and how blessed I am. Through out my lifetime there has always been an abundance of happiness. I was about to write sunshine, but I deleted the word, not because it is an overused cliche. I deleted it because the picture of a lovely rainy day flashed through my mind and made me smile. Rainy days make me smile, as do sunny days. I really love a thick foggy day, or a great snow storm. Oops I am off topic again.  When I look back on my life I realize how lucky I am to have been give three of the best children in existence. Then two beautiful girls, who make me laugh, have come into my life. My family, while slightly insane, is a close knit group. I have always been able to provide for my children, and whenever I need help it appears. I do feel like God has been constantly blessing me, even when I forget to be thankful. It is hard to believe that there can be any more blessings in store for me, surely I am getting close to my quota, but then just when I needed it there is more. After having been in a loveless relationship for many years a man has been sent my way who makes me feel completely adored. Now we are all adults here and know that these kinds of things don't always last forever, but for now when I need it, it is a blessing.

A day off, just what I needed

When I am at work and it is warm and sunny outside I wish I could be at home in my yard. On cold days I wish I could be at home in a sweater with a cup of tea in my hands. Today I have one of my wishes. It is the first cold day we have had this fall and I have a day  off. My list of things to get done today keeps growing, but first I am enjoying a warm cup of chai tea and browsing a few places online.
November is coming fast and until this morning I wasn't sure if I was going to try Nano again this year. My life has been busier than usual this year and I wasn't sure if I wanted to try and fail. This morning a zombie story I have been lugging around in my head for three years came to the forefront and asked to be wrote. Well, I never have been good at saying no, so here we go.
Today though is a costume making day. One Red Heart Queen coming up.

life at home

The Cuban is trying to walk too quickly into my personal space. Undying love is great two or three nights a week, but I am by nature a solitary person. I spent all day yesterday hanging out with my boys. Lee is home for the weekend and it was nice to just sit around and do nothing. This morning I started reading The Glass Castle. It is a good book, well written, but it is hitting close to home. I am still not sure if that makes it better or worse.
 Walls is thirteen years older than me so we were living nomadic lives in some of the same places more than a decade apart.  We both had alcoholic fathers that made running from trouble, debt, or police a habit. This habit transforms a childhood, making it both exciting a wearisome. I could not help but feel a little jealous. My parents did not have the imagination, and/or concern, to make this lifestyle more adventurous. We children were often squished in the back seat in the middle of the night, but no reason such as running from the gestapo was ever given to us. We were not doing a skedaddle, we were just moving again. We picked up details from conversations we were not supposed to hear to explain the sudden flight. The individual personalities and details of the book were different, but the overall experience in the book was similar to my childhood. While I felt jealous about the start of the book I did have the advantage of having a much better state of squalor to live in when the nomadic lifestyle came to an end. My mother did snap out of her denial, get a job, and try to make a life for her children. 
It is a good book, but I am not sure how much I want to discuss it with my book club.

I just realized how bad it is, I haven't read a book in over a week, almost two. Hopefully this will blow over soon and I can get something done. Now I must go sleep.

My Kryptonite is a lovely Cuban

When DH and I split I decided I would start dating, because at 38 I don't have many years to waste, but that I would not enter into any serious relationships for 3 years. I still think that is the best idea. However, I am addicted to an earnest Cuban. Today I practiced my lecture to him, in Spanish, to tell him that this was not long term. I explained that we are at two different places in our lives. He is in a spot where he is looking forward to settling down and having babies. I could easily become a grandmother in the next five years. I think I told him, it is hard to know exactly what I said, that we could be happy now, but when he found a woman that also wanted what he wanted he should go with her.  Now remember I have just had three conversations with this man, yet he expressed his undying love for me in Spanish, in English, in Spanish again. This should be enough to scare me off, but I can't stay away.

Cuban date

Last Wednesday I was asked out on a date. Since he is from Cuba and speaks no English and I speak very little Spanish it went something like this. Comida? Si. Cuando? Sabado. Tiempe? Siete. The date itself went much better than that. I spent as much time as I could in the interim refreshing my Spanish, it paid off because we were able to converse; we used a lot of hand signs. After dinner I went with him to visit some friends. It was one of the most interesting nights of my life. It was a quick immersion into a Cuban Saturday night. At five-thirty in the morning I took a shower, climbed into bed and wondered how I had stumbled into this fascinating world.

A random update

I did finally get all of my water leaks fixed. Six leaks happened in one week, fixed them all once, but two of them twice. It was a learning experience that I feel pretty damn good about now.

Being divorced still feels pretty damn good too. Financially I am in a bit of a pickle but I expected that. Besides I do believe in the saying if all of your problems are money problems you don't have problems, unless you are uninsured in the U.S. then your money problems could make living a problem.  

Who am I?

Sometimes I don't even know who I am. When I do things completely out of character there is a voice yelling don't do that, yet sometimes I still do. Usually in that case I end up looking like an ass. When will I ever learn to listen to my own instincts?

plumbing sucks, but not too much

I am in the middle of facing my biggest fear when it comes to not having a husband--Plumbing. I am the proud owner of an older double wide; not excellent but it, along with the two lots, is paid off.  The problem is the polybutylene tubes used for plumbing. If I ever run into the guys who invented this shit I am going to kick them square in the nuts. It turns brittle and breaks easily over time. This means too many water leaks for me to pay a plumber to fix. The plan is to get it all replaced, but that is not near done yet. 


I do not usually care for gender roles in a marriage, but I have been quiet about this one. DH, like most men, felt that plumbing fell under his job description. Several times over the years I have quietly wondered why I did not have to crawl under the house and work on my back while laying in mud. Never did I utter this kind of question. I did not want to do it. Now though there is no one else. two months into my single life and we have four leaks. Jason did one while I was at work, but now school has started and it really should be my job. Surprisingly I don't mind it as much as I thought I would, of course it is still warm outside. The frustrating part is not having the right parts.


On my lunch hour I picked up what I thought I needed. After work I drank a cup of tea and then cheerfully went out to work on the house. I had not realized that the tubing had switched from 1/2 to 3/8 so I had picked up the wrong adapters.I live 17 miles from a hardware store and it is not open in the evenings.  This is when rural living is not convenient.  I did as much as I could, but we are still without water. Hopefully I will finish tomorrow.

Bliss

     My household income has been cut by 55% while the population has only been decreased by 14.29%. This should make me nervous, but instead I have found myself blissfully happy. My lifestyle hasn't changed too much since dh moved out; for the most part I do the same things on a daily basis that I always have. I just get to do them with so much less stress.
    Dh has been asking me out on dates and expressing his unending love for me lately.  I have been trying to respond politely while walking a line between not hurting his feelings and not leading him on with false expectations.  The truth is that after being called a liar, a bitch, and a whore for 19 years it is nice to be called nothing. Earlier this year our book club read the book Sarah's Key. While reading the book I noticed that one of the character's talked to his wife much like dh talked to me. During the discussion somebody called his behavior emotional abuse. As everyone agreed I felt my breath draining from me. I had never thought of myself as a victim of abuse, and did not like the thought of being one. Even now my brain insists that I was not. Sure he was abusive but I lived above it. I did not let it affect me. Except that I am not as friendly to men as I used to be, to make things smoother, and I don't warmly invite people over as much as I once did, for fear of a scene, but I am not timid. After the book club I was talking to Fria Chica, who also attends, she brought up the subject and said that when somebody mentioned the character's abusive behavior she thought "poor Lynn" for she too had related that character with dh.  Unlike in the book though my husband is not a handsome, accomplished lover, so I didn't even have the benefits.
     My kids are all out for the evening. I have been reading a light biography of Elizabeth II, dancing with myself, writing, and drinking tea. It has been lovely so far, and who knows what will happen next?

Where to start

I do not think it has been obvious, but my marriage has not been a happy one for years. My life has been happy. I am usually in a good mood, and enjoy myself, but my marriage is usually only adequate and/or miserable depending on the day. Instead of using to dh to mean dear husband or damn husband, as per current internet usage, I have I always used it to mean dickhead. An example of one of the many problems is that right now I keep looking over my shoulder to make sure he is not coming through the door. I have never been allowed any privacy. If I kept a paper journal he found it and read it, same with e-mail. Any information gleaned was later used against me in an argument. If I am not home he calls all of my relatives until he finds me. He ran through the caller id in the evening and asked me what every number wanted when they called. This is not horrible behavior, but I could not stand it. Being the type of person who needs some personal space this felt suffocating. He was steadily growing ruder which meant the number of friends and relatives who would spend time at my house was dwindling. Despite all of this I was shocked when moved out last week. It felt like a slap in the face after all the crap I had put up with for years.
Now  a week later I am still jumpy, but I am starting to get used to the freedom again. Today somebody suggested that this my be temporary, that we may get back together. No I am sure that is not going to happen; this feels too good. I had wanted to stay married for three more years. Lane and Jason will both have graduated by then and I wanted to be able to provide for them financially as much as they were used to. That is probably what hurt the most. I had expected to have more control over the time frame of the divorce. It is too early to say for sure, but I think this is for the best.

Summer

Summer is here. For me that means less time spent inside, except for at work when I spend all day in an office that feels like a cave. I have planted tomatoes, peppers, strawberries and herbs, not a big garden, but it is enough for now. I have been working on the cob house I am building. To be honest, at this point it is a cob room. I am plastering the inside. There is something peaceful about smoothing mud onto a wall. Solitary bees have been making nests inside the wall. I haven't it made it to that area yet, so for now we are not disturbing each other. They make a beautiful buzzing noise that fills the room while I work.

The one where I place too much importance on myself

The irritation on President Obama's face was easy to read as he displayed his birth certificate. It was easy to assume I knew the depth of his feeling, I too thought we as a nation had better discussions to spend our time on. Sunday night as I was driving my son, Lee, to the train station I heard the news about Bin Laden. As it became clear that he had been watching this closely for a week I knew his frustration level with the birthers was both deeper than his face had showed and was completely justified. He really did have better things to do.

At this point I am going to compare my small problems with those of the U.S. President. Bear with me. During my April board meeting we discussed teacher evaluations. It became clear that a man who I feel to be a great teacher was about to lose his job and their was not a damn thing I could do to stop it. Another teacher, who is not the best teacher, was also going to be asked to leave, not unusual, except that we all knew he was also going through a serious personal issue that his job loss would compound. We also discussed several minor issues such as the buying a new vehicle and alleged drinking on the senior trip.
Our meeting lasted until 1:30 in the morning. Afterward I showered and lay in bed thinking about the families of the two men we had discussed. This is a small community. Everybody knows everybody and their families. The great teacher and his wife are friends of ours. We have talked over supper, laughed over drinks, shared clothes, parenting tips, and inside jokes. His children would have to change schools. The community was going to lose a good worker and organizer when his wife moved. I really felt that as a board we were making a big mistake for the community and an even bigger one for the school. Great teachers are hard to find.

When I woke at 6:30 I had gotten little sleep. No one would know about the teachers for a while. All day at work I carried around my worries. At home I looked at the clock and decided I had time for a short nap. I curled up on the sofa by Beezus and closed my eyes. Twenty minutes later the phone rang. It was a friend, who also happens to be a teacher, she disagreed with our decision on the senior trip. I tried to stay calm. The conversation was heated, at one point I mentioned that we had more important things to worry about. After the phone call I was irritated, angry, and more than a little hurt. Being exhausted amplified these feeling. The phone rang. It was Drama Queen. She started yelling curse words at me. Apparently I am not raising her children up to her standards. I was also allowing them to have visits with their father, which he has legal rights to, and she was angry. Usually I just stay calm when she is like this and wait for her too calm down too. This night I yelled into the phone "I am not in the fucking mood" and hung up. She called back apologized then started screaming again. I hung up. She sent several texts which I ignored. She called again. Jason answered I could hear his quiet voice talking to her,saying that I was not coming to the phone. I was laying with Lane on his bed. My children are used to me being on an even keel, not laying on a bed crying. Jason came back to the room and both boys lay with me while I cried. I have great children.

Later I went to the local office to do a bit of work.  I had decided that there seemed to be a split between what the school board should be focused on and what everybody else wanted us to focus on. My time on the board is donated, my sleepless nights ate given with little reward. I was willing to donate this time for the sake of the school, however, I was not willing to give up this time for stupid arguments that mostly stemmed from previous arguments and hurt feelings.  I wrote my resignation letter and sent it out to the board and administration.

I was concerned that when the emotions cleared I would regret leaving the board. A week later I felt pretty good about my decision. There had been a flood of positive responses to my letter asking me to reconsider. I had talked to two of the administration members, who I have respect for, and agreed to give my resignation more thought. After two weeks of thought, and several more conversations, with that same friend I had fought with, I still felt happy with my decision. The friend had called me when the great teacher put in his resignation. She apologized, she knew then what I had alluded too, and agreed that this was a much bigger problem.  I was happy to be off of the board and have this weight lifted from me.

Then one evening dh came home and mentioned the two men who were vying for my position. Not two men really, but two douche bags. A phrase I mean in the strongest possible way. My mind played forward what meetings would be like with either of these two in attendance. I thought of the what this would mean for the teachers, it would not be good, and the students. I rescinded my resignation. In two years when my term is up I will rethink my position again. If either of these two are to be on the board they will be there because they were elected, not because I handed it to them.

All of this to say that our president has important decisions to make. Could we please insist that the media educate us on these things? Could we talk about our future as a nation and not every stupid thing that some idiot throws out as a talking point?

American Workers Vs Multi-Billionaires

I will beat you creme brulee, someday.

Creme brulee is kicking my ass. Of course I have promised to present said dessert at 12:50. The recipe calls for cooling before it is served, and my ramekins are still in the oven. Having nudged the heat slightly I still have hopes for something edible. After all, they have never had creme brulee, maybe they won't notice. I will them they misunderstood, brulee means soup. The tiramisu looks good. The extra one I made for breakfast tasted good also. Let them eat cake.

A childhood friend found me on facebook. That simple thing has made me ridiculously happy. I had not realized how much I missed my friends until they started finding me. Life is great, so is social networking, just when I need friends they start showing up.

Books, year in review

• *A Study In Scarlet
• *Living Dead In Dallas
• *A Long Way Gone
• *A Thousand Splendid Suns
• *Mort
• *Have His Carcass
• *The Woman He Loved
• *The Duchess of Windsor
• *The Help
• *The Atonement Child
• *Across the River and Into the Trees
• *Dead Until Dark
• *Islands in the Stream
• *The Nine Tailors
• *In The Presence of My Enemies
• *The Documents In The Case
• *Look Again
• *Persuasion
• *The Survivors Club
• *The Empty House
• *Shades of Grey
• *The Joy Luck Club
• *Summer Island
• *Hangover square
• *Dreams from my father
• *Brighton Rock
• *Nineteen Minutes
• *Wicked
• *Infidel
• *Come, Tell Me How You Live
• *Hour of Gold,Hour of Lead:Diaries of Anne Morrow Lindbergh
• *Ursula Under
• *Slam
• *Spud

These are the books I read in 2010. It was not a productive year in the reading category.  The only one I did not care for was The Atonement Child. The first half was good, but it went to shit after that. I would recommend Hangover Square to anyone, good book.

My life

Most days I look at this empty screen and think 'I have nothing to say' So I say nothing. Today, I have nothing to say, so I thought I would just catch up on what have I been doing. Beezus and Ramona have moved back in with me, and Lee is here for Christmas break. That makes me happy. What else? Working mostly, having lived for several years as a stay-at-home mom I have perspective on both sides and I can say that working sucks. It has its good points, like a paycheck and health insurance. It was always scary to take a child to the doctor and wonder if this was going to be your whole food budget for the week, and I most certainly never wanted to go the doctor myself. That would be a total waste of money. Adult interaction is another good point. I enjoy my job, and feel I am good at it, but it still sucks to wake to the sound of an alarm, drive, spend eight hours working for everybody else, then be too tired to work towards my own dreams in the evening. It is not that I am always too tired. That energy that I do have is spent on my children. It has become apparent to me lately that I do not have much time left with them at home, so spending time with them has become a real priority, whether they like it or not. What are these dreams, or projects, that I am pushing back?

I want to build my house. The picture of it is stored in my head and I walk through it at nights. It is beautiful. I want to write a few books. There are stories in my mind that I would like to commit to paper, before paper is archaic. I would like to be a more healthy me. I have plans that include more yoga and belly dancing, I am trying to fit those in to my schedule. I have trouble sticking to schedules. Creating an actual prolific garden would be nice, I play at in now, but it does not produce much. These are all things I am trying to fit into my life. Hopefully I will do a better job of it than I did last year.

What did I do last year. I joined a book club that I have enjoyed. I sent my first child off to college. I remember the day I sat at a red light in Lawrence and it hit me that I had done it. The day Lee was born I pledged to give him a stable childhood. One where he would start preschool and graduate in the same place. One where college was not some foreign world where he would feel he did not belong, but a place he was planning on going some day. Financially I wanted to be able to help him get started. That moment at the stop light, the same day I had cosigned his lease, and enrolled him in school, was a moment of sheer giddiness. I have been through a roller coaster with my sister. We have not agreed on rehab for her or where the girls should live. I am not saying the ride is over, but we are in a nice steady spot right now. Lane and Jason are becoming young men and most days I am proud of them. I have always tried to create an open relationship in the family. That started with answering any question they asked me honestly. It may now have gone a bit too far. I am not sure it is normal to know how Jason's sex life is going. Normal or not he will say things like 'Hey do I have scratch marks on my back?' Who are these men I am raising? The fun is in watching them find out.

Warming the Tundra

I am supposed to be writing. Instead I read several old posts on this blog. Reading the older ones made my life feel new to me. Nostalgia is a comforting waste of time. With Lee at college I find myself becoming more and more sappy. It is starting to become embarrassing. Drama Queen was describing a friend to me the other day. "She is so nice, she likes to help people, she is like you without the insults." That description of me was apt and made me laugh for days. I do not want to change, but having my heart broke, for what may be the first time in my life, has made an impact on me.
This is sad to say but I have met few people in my life I cannot live without. That is not to say that I do not like people, I just tend to enjoy whichever friends are with me and not worry too much about the ones who are not. In the same vein, even though I have married twice, there has never been a man in my life it would crush me to lose. That is why I was shocked to be standing in a produce section in September and realize that weird crushing feeling that I could not shake was heartbreak. Lee, Beezus, and Ramona had all left me for the school year. In the evenings I would wander around the house trying to find something to keep me busy.My mind was having trouble focusing. I could not remember ever feeling this way before. I can now truly say there are five people in this world I cannot live without. I wonder if this warming spot in my tundra like heart will spread and soon I will gush and love everyone. I hope not, that would be annoying.

My Cripple Creek Expedition

 Even though there happens to be  lots to do in Cripple Creek I did not really participate in many of these activities. Being too cheap to gamble, and on a rather wobbly wagon you may not expect me to choose vacations with gambling and drinking being the main themes; Dh, and our friends have drug me to the casinos again. Really I had a great time. I had intended to spend the day seeing the sites, and walking around gazing at the beautiful scenery.  Instead I read, napped, and observed several poker games.
It was already dark and cold when we arrived. I stepped out of the car in shorts and was shocked by the sub 40 temps. I found a few of our friends that had drove up separately, put ten dollars in a slot machine cashed out at twenty, and went up to read until one in the morning. The idea of reading so late was exciting because I did not have to work the next day; I could sleep in. At 7:30 my eyes sprang open and would not shut. DH had came to bed at five in the morning so I was trying not to wake him. This was difficult because the bed was smaller than a coffee table book.  I read until 8:30 when everybody else woke up. This was shaping up to be a lovely weekend. The whole group met downstairs for breakfast. Anna ordered a mimosa at the casino bar. The bartender had no idea what this was, so after several people tried to explain it to him he handed her a glass of champagne. She carried it into the restaurant and mixed it with two glasses of orange juice and handed me one. In my need to not be rude I drank it. So here I was on my year of no drinking starting the day with a breakfast drink. I thought of having another, but I resisted.
I watched a few hands of blackjack, a few spins by Anna and her husband on slots, then went up to read and have a nap. They woke me later when everybody decided to walk down the street and visit other casinos. They are all about the same. I spent a few hours watching a five card high poker game. There the mysterious allure of these places finally revealed itself to me. As I watched a nearly 80 year old man play and make friends with the other players, while he was addressed by all of the dealers by his first name, it occurred to me that this was a social club and the money spent betting was the entry fee. Much like all of the money spent on licensed sports gear. When you are wearing that new jersey, or a cool retro one, you are automatically in a club that gives you free high fives and conversation starters.Gamblers are the same. They meet in casinos, drink free drinks, and are a part of something.  Just by standing behind them and offering up cheers or condolences I was allowed free bottles of water and limited access to their club. That is also where the crowning moment of my weekend came. Under that too good to be true lighting I was carded twice. I was given a wrist band the second time so that I could readily prove I was over 21. Since I am closer to forty than to twenty-one this made me very happy.
After eating a large supper I watched some three card poker with my main goal being to score more free water. Oh, and during that supper I drank 1 1/2 glasses of Fetzer Gewurztraminer. Not being ready for bed, but bored with gaming, I headed over to a different casino where the The Family Juls Band was playing. I approached the bartender for a drink and was quickly carded. Of course I had not thought to bring id since I was not gambling or drinking. I explained that I had only wanted water and was only here to listed to the band. I was escorted to the band area and was told I would not be allowed on the gaming floor. I was beginning to love this place. The band was great. They did an excellent job on some of my favorite songs. 
The next morning I slept late and  then read until everybody had either spent all of their money or had gotten the gambling bug out of their system. It was nice to know we were driving to a place where winter was still a few weeks away.

Yes, I am a pig

Most days I believe I am a relatively sane person. Then occasionally a reason comes along to make me doubt that long held belief.
Monday, at work, it was just one of those days. Everything my boss said or did got on my nerves. I really was glad when she went to lunch, because this meant I could be alone for awhile. This is not meant to reflect on my boss, I get incredibly bitchy sometimes.
So there I was alone at work, a long line of customers stretched out in front of me, when somebody started persistently knocking on the back door. I thought it was the ups man even though he is usually patient. Smiling apologetically to the line I ran to get the door. Quietly I sang 'I'm coming' in a cartoon voice. I opened the door and there stood a  witty old lady holding out a plate of pecan bars. 'Not fast enough' she answered with a wink. I thanked her quickly and set the bars aside. I could feel through the plate that they were still warm.  Here it is worth mentioning that I had not eaten yet that day.
After the customers had all been helped I ate two of the six bars. They were delicious, a nice crisp crust covered in that sugar filled goo that fills pecan pies then a nice layer of pecans. I wish I had more right now. Usually when this kind of treat is brought into the office they are placed on the back table so everyone can have a share of the bounty. I set them on the back table and went back to work. Reasoning that she had brought them in because I had been extremely helpful on Saturday I decided to eat one more, that would half, that would be fair. I ate it slowly since it was my last one.
While I was working I remembered that Saturday I had been scheduled to work an extremely busy day alone. I had worked fast, put in an extra hour, and was still greeted on Monday with a list of complaints because I had missed a few of the deadlines by an hour. Yeah, I deserved another bar. So I ate one; the plate looked bare, nobody brings in just four cookie bars. It was going to be obvious I had ate too many. 'Fuck it,' I thought. I ate the other two. They were just as good as the first two. I threw the plate away and pretended they had never existed.
All afternoon I worried that the lady might come back and mention those damn cookies. She did not. Nobody ever knew about my cookie monster like act. Except that I had a tummy ache. Serves me right.

rant

I would really like to attend The Rally To Restore Sanity, but alas, taking a trip would be fiscally irresponsible right now. Instead I am going to use the next few minutes as personal rant time.

A while back I posted about Fria Chica's boyfriend, the father of her baby. Well they have been broke up for sometime now. Fresh out of  a six months in forced rehab  he came up for a visit. She made it clear they were still broke up, she would like him to be a part of their child's life, but she needed her space. He moved in next door. Being a group of optimists we tried to see the best. We thought maybe this would work, he could share the responsibility of raising a child while moving on with his own life. Deep down we knew this wasn't going to happen. It hasn't. He sits in his house with the door open, the sound of Eminem spills into the courtyard, watching for her to come in our out so he can rush out to speak with her. He calls the family or stops by to see if we know where she is. She parks her car at my mom's and sneaks back home so he will think she is out. She is starting to talk of moving back in with Mom so he will leave her alone. He is afraid of my mom. She has told him the police will be called if he sets foot on her property. No one doubts that she is excited by the possibility of this actually happening.
To flesh out this character I will explain more about him. He does not call his musical hero Eminem, he calls him Marshall. This is because he believes they are alike. When they meet they will be close friends. They are going to meet because he is working on a project that Marshall will want to be a spokesperson for. He is going to make it rich on the Internet by supplanting facebook. I have no doubt somebody will, that is the way of the Internet, but it will not be him. His only innovation so far is that his sight will be focusing on mentoring. Many people are great mentors, they have achieved something and want to help others to do the same. He has achieved several d.u.i.s , d.w.i.s a few stints in jail and rehab for an addiction problem he has not quit. His justification for not quitting alcohol and drugs is that when you are rich nobody cares what you do. He is working as a waiter, at least I think he still is, he has not kept a job longer than two months in all of the four years I have known him. So if you want him to teach anything to our high school students he is waiting for his chance. That is his target age group. He has already contacted our computer teacher in the hopes one of her classes will help him build his web page. That is right he has no computer knowledge either. She asked me later if I had any idea who this idiot was that had called her. He told her of his plan to make it rich in the networking business. When she asked what her students would get out of the deal he responded with 'the satisfaction of knowing they had helped'.  I do hope someday he pulls his head out and finds some success in something, maybe then he will pay some child support.

The day off

I am hiding out in my house. Today is my first day off work since school started. With my first look at the schedule I was excited. A day off, home alone, no appointments to haul children to, this was a gift. A gift that needed protecting. I bluntly told Fria Chica, Mom, Anna and her husband, that they were not to come to my house on Wednesday; they would be locked out. I knew I could say this to them and they would understand. I informed them that if they told my brother I was to be home they would be killed. His feelings are more easily bruised. The only worry left was dh, his feelings are tender also . I did not tell him I was having a day off, and was just hoping it would not be a day where he popped in and out of the house several times.  Then during an unrelated conversation he reminded me that Wednesday was the start of dove season, not the chocolates. That meant he would be staying Tuesday night at the river drinking with his buddies. All day Wednesday would be spent killing God's innocent creatures. I was relieved.

As I have whined about in another post my several of my family members are going through rough times at the moment. Being a fixer and a worrier this has caused a lot of stress for me lately. My brother has a few personality issues and depression problems that have made being a part of the work force hard for him. Many times when he is between jobs Mom and I have been able to provide a bit of a cushion for him. This time however it just is not feasible. We make sure he has a place to come, talk, and have a meal, but today I need a break, for my sanity.
Miss Universe has been keeping to herself too much lately. I need to reach out to her and see how she is doing. This past year she has left her husband, lived alone, drank heavily, had boyfriends, moved back in with her husband, and is spending a few weekends in jail to atone for a crime she did or did not commit. I worry about her, but I always know she will come out of this just fine, she always does.
Drama Queen. What can I say about her. She hit a downward spiral four years ago and cannot make her way back up. Last spring when the girls moved in with me if felt final. All summer it felt final. Even when I cautioned myself that she would want the girls to move back in with her when school started my heart would not believe it. She entered and left rehab three times this summer. Each time she would call a family member and insist that they drive to Wichita to take her to rehab, if not she would kill herself. She has grown fond of talking about how suicidal she is. I always refused. Fria Chica and Mom started to refuse after she had checked herself back out after two emotional days of checking her in and making arrangements for her. She sucks the energy out of a person. Once when I was leaving Lawrence I had to stop by Wichita and check on her, Mom insisted. She let me in then passed back out on her couch. I made my way through the bottles and debris to the bathroom. Before I left I kissed her goodbye and asked three times if she was going to lock the door behind me. She called the next day to talk. She had had a vague dream about me. She had no recollection of my having been there. The unlocked door had bothered her all morning, she knew someone had been in her house, but had no idea what they had done. She was relieved to find out that it was me, and that I had not violated her. I didn't mention the kiss.
Since her family had quit answering her calls for help she called friend. Worried, her friend called the police to check on her. She was drunk and belligerent when they arrived on the scene. She was put into rehab, but had talked her way out by the end of the weekend. My sister is a beautiful, skilled actor. They agreed that she wasn't masking any mental illnesses with her drinking, she just need outpatient treatment to help control her alcohol problem. You and I would have believed her too. I have seen her in action, she is good.
While I was checking out of the motel to leave Ks. City she called to talk. I stepped out of line and sat in a large overstuffed chair to hear about her weekend. We laughed as she told me about stumbling in her apartment and hitting her head on the mantle. She had no idea where in Wichita she had left her vehicle. She had told off a few of her boyfriends. I was regaled by her stories. She was in a buoyant mood. Her enthusiasm was catchy. By the time we had hung up I was in a silly mood too. Later, in a rare book store in Lawrence, I talked to here again. She was drunk and crying hysterically. We talked for about ten minutes about how bad her life was. Upon hanging up the phone I instructed the boys not to answer if she called again. I was not going to listen to that all day. I didn't think about banning call from Mom also. Mom called Lane's phone. He answered and handed it to me. I was to go by Drama Queen's and take her to get her anti-drinking prescription filled on my way through Wichita. I grudgingly agreed. Drama Queen called constantly to see when I would be there. At an hour away she called. She called ten minutes later. As we were pulling into town she called. It was only then that I realized she did not want her prescription filled. She wanted me to take her to a dry out center. I told her we were thirty minutes from town, but would be there soon. I drove to a Cold Stone Creamery. We had been having a great weekend, and I was not ready to enter crazy town just yet. I apologized in advance to Lee, Lane, and Emma  for the whatever was about to happen. We made our way across town. Lee and Emma stayed in the car. Lane and I went up to her apartment. We had to shove the couch from in front of the door to enter. She was laying, shirtless, in the middle of the floor with a bottle and a butcher knife posed dramatically beside her. She fell over twice as we made her get up and get dressed, bumping her head solidly on the wall several times. She fought and yelled that she did not want to go to rehab, as I poured out all of the liquor and beer.  Finally I remembered that I had not wanted to take her to rehab, this was her idea. It is easy to lose sight of these details in the middle of a scene. Okay, fine, I said. Lane, let's go. We started to leave. No, she pleaded. I need to go, please take me. She left the apartment with us. We had to help her down four flights of stairs. She fell several more times. In the car she didn't want to go to rehab. She tried to jump out as I drove down Kellogg. Finally at the dry out center she refused to enter. They would not take her unless she walked through the door on her own. She stumbled out and lay face first first on a patch of grass. We sat in the car and watched her. Then a worker noticed her and came out to see what was going on. I went over and explained that I was not going leave her there. Oh she is with you. He looked relieved. He bent down and talked to her. She agreed to go inside if I would bring her a carton of cigarettes. She went inside. I drove to a gas station. Back at the center, cigarettes in hand, we watched an ambulance pull in. Ignoring it I knocked on the door. At least that can't be hers, I thought, she hasn't been here long enough. Slowly as no one answered the door it dawned on me that I was wrong.  I walked around to the back. She was laying on cement. She had been trying to climb the wood fence and leave, but had fallen backwards and smacked her head on the cement.  I gave the ambulance drivers her name as they loaded her up. I had to go inside and answer some questions that a worker asked me. She made it very clear that she was angry that I had brought her. Back in the car we watched the ambulance drive away. We agreed that it was time to go home. We tried to find somewhere to eat chicken and waffles, but the place was closing. We ordered Church's chicken instead. It had a horrible smell. We through it out, and drove home.
Now the girls are back in Wichita enrolled in school. My heart is broken, my worry about their safety is a constant companion.  Last night Drama Queen called to talk. Her boyfriend, the latest in a string that have not treated her nicely, has given her Chlamydia. She is angry. When she had made a snide comment about it the night before he had started to hit her. He was banging her head against the patio floor. She said he probably would have killed her if Ramona had not woken up. I let her talk awhile longer before I voiced my fear. What if he had not left when Ramona woke up? I insisted that she quit letting men like this into her house. She agreed, but I knew it was a promise that would soon be forgotten.
It was after ten, I had been making Jason a grilled cheese sandwich and a cup of noodles while I talked to her. Still talking I made Lane and myself a sundae. It was actually just vanilla ice cream covered with some strawberry-rhubarb jam I had made. I got off the phone and finished my ice cream. I had been planning to go straight to bed, but now I could not sleep. Dead Until Dawn was on my nightstand waiting to be started. At three in the morning I finished it. My mind was cleared. I slept very well for six hours.
I have been carrying this tale around, it feels good to write it down.

Man U live!

MANCHESTER UNITED MIDFIELDER NANI
On Kansas City’s style of play
“Their entire team played very well today. They played with a lot of motivation because they played Manchester United. It's difficult to compare them directly to Barcelona because they're one of the best teams in the world to play that kind of football, but they play very nice and quick and they passed the ball well like a quality Spanish club. Their style was good.”

Read more: http://www.kansascity.com/2010/07/26/2108719/quotes-on-a-very-surprising-result.html#ixzz0utXimsBH

It was a great weekend for U.S. soccer. While we were cheering for the other team it was a win/win situation for us. We were there to see Manchester United play live, which has been a goal of Lee's for years now.It would have been nice to see them win, but it was good to see how high a level our clubs are playing at. Lee, Lane, Emma -Lee's girlfriend, and I loaded into the car Saturday morning and made the nine hour drive to KC. We arrived tired and ready for a swim, but we had a great time.

To have a weekend away was wonderful. We stopped in Wichita to eat Mongolian food, which Emma had never had, and to develop some film. By the time we made it to the hotel we were too tired to do much more than swim, shower and go to bed. The next morning we wanted Cold Stone Creamery for breakfast. The g.p.s. led us to one that didn't open on Sunday's, a shopping center with one that must be invisible, and to a field that held one with a cloaking device. We had a frosty instead.

At the stadium I made an exception to my no alcohol rule. They had a Thai beer that I had never seen before and wanted to try, so I bought one, at $7.50 a bottle I was only going to get one. It was good, not great, but good. My family is still giving me a hard time for making the exception.We went to our seats, which were awesome, they were first row by a corner. I never thought I would see so many Man U fans concentrated into one place. It was exciting. The red was everywhere.  The KC fan base were impressive. They were loud. excited, and later in the parking lot, belligerent. At first this offended me, but they were young excited fans with a big win to boast about. Sure they were sore winners, but that is a problem with every soccer game world wide, we are finally catching up.

On Monday we decided to make a slow trip home. We stopped in Lawrence did some shopping for body jewelry and books. We went to a Cold Stone and got huge ice creams. We drove on to Wichita. We picked up our film and found another Cold Stone and had another huge ice cream. I have left out a bit of family phone calls which affected the rest of the evening. I will talk about those some other time. For now I want to focus on a great trip. Two XL ice creams in one day is a signal of a good time. 

Peace

As the kids were leaving they asked what I was going to do with myself. Here I was all alone, the possibilities were endless, would I read, write, watch tv, do yoga? I locked the door in case somebody stopped by I did not want to waste my free time on. I put on the tea kettle, watered some plants, started a load of laundry. I through the skirt I had been wearing into the wash. I noticed Fria chica walking up the drive at the same time the phone started to ring. Running to unlock the door I looked around for  the cordless phone, which is the only one with caller id, I could not find it so I grabbed the wall phone.
It was Drama Queen. She was crying. Drunk again she asked me to check her in to a rehab, a different one than the one she has walked out of three times since April, a better one, that she would enjoy herself in. I explained that Disney hadn't made a rehab center yet. She cried and reminded me that she is suicidal. There was a knock at the door. I hollered for Fria Chica to come in. Drama Queen kept talking. There was a constant, insistent knock on the door. I interrupted the conversation and ran to find pants. At the door I found two of Jason's friends. They left. I ran back to the phone. We talked for  a while longer then I talked to both of the girls. They are staying the summer with me, but are visiting their mom this week. We decided to make jam and french bread next week when they are back.
I decided to come here to update with my free time. My mom called. The reception was bad, because she was outside in the wind, I could hear enough to know she wanted me to drive to Wichita to get the girls. I hung up as soon as the reception became bad enough to warrant it. Dh came home he told me how depressed he has been over losing his top teeth and getting a plate, which he rarely wears, then we decided to watch a movie. My mom came to the door. She told me Beezus wanted to come home right now. I told her I had just talked to her and she seemed okay for the night. She wanted to talk about how unfit a mother Drama Queen is, but I could not do it. Dh seemed happy to join in. I stated that I was not going to speculate about it now. I was ready to watch a movie and would call Drama Queen tomorrow to make arrangements for the girls. My mom left. We started the movie. The phone rang. It was Ramona. She said grandma told her to call and tell me they were ready to come home. When I asked if she wanted to come home tonight. She said that grandma told her to call and tell me Beezus was ready. So much for  a peaceful night.
Tonight I wish that I had not arranged my life so that there was no one for me to lean on. I have spent most of my adult life trying to keep my family together. I have planned holidays and steered through many family emergencies. Of course maybe I am exaggerating my role and the family itself has not changed course by the force of my energy. Either way I am sensing a different type of crisis. A slow moving storm that I can not keep us together through. I feel myself cutting them loose and holding only my immediate family on the raft. I worry that  it will not even be enough for the five of us, yet I am pulling the girls on with us. Is this the point where I stand back and let my family choose its own course? I am tired of constant manipulation, and am in the hopes that writing a note in the void will be a form of catharsis.

So far so good

I was worried about the temptation to drink at events. These are days when I know I am going to have a drink or two because everybody around me will be drinking too. Two have passed by so far and they have been easy. Two graduation parties on the same weekend flew by with me having no problem saying no. A softball tournament came and went without the thought of beer crossing my mind. This year may be harder than I expected.
You see it was the big events that I expected to give me trouble. Mentally I had prepared myself for them and was ready. Surprisingly it has been normal spring evenings that have been tempting me. After a long day of hauling dirt up ladders to finish my living roof I had a pounding heat headache. The thought of a cold beer seemed lovely. After a evening of planting herbs the red sunset brought to mind a glass of Merlot with Anna. I find myself socializing less. The ritual of a drink or two always called for a friend, now when I dismiss the plot of relaxing over alcohol I also toss away the idea of sitting with a friend. I am going to have to do something about that.

Luckily the years are flying by

The Friday before Mother's day dh asked if I wanted to go out for Chinese food for Mother's day. I agreed. Then he added that first we had to drive to Woods to pick up a lawn mower, and that another couple were going to join us. While driving back towards the restaurant Anna called to ask if I was coming to her party that evening. I had forgot about the damn thing. She was hosting a party for some scented product for the home. My home always smells like dirty teenage feet, no matter how many products I use. I told her I would be there, but that I would be late. After we ate I informed the other lady, who I do not know very well yet, that I was taking her with me to drink. And drink we did. She had to run/walk a 3k the next morning and I hear that her question as she collapsed at the finish line was "Do I smell like vodka?"
I woke the next morning and while still lying in bed I felt pretty good. I felt at peace like I had gotten a reprieve from the stress of everyday life. Going over the night before in my head it occurred to me that  I was beginning to have an unhealthy relationship with alcohol. Like many teenagers I drank too much on the weekends, then I went shifted to rarely drinking when my children were young. Now that they are older I drink once or twice a month and that hasn't changed. What has changed is the way I drink.  My rule had always been drink my first one at a normal speed, nurse my second one, then have a glass of water, repeat through the night. Somewhere along the way I have dropped that rule. I have been speed drinking with the intent of drunkenness. Dressed and ready for my day I feel ok. I arrived at work early. Five minutes later I was throwing up and felt like I might die. Somehow I struggle through the work day and then retire to my room for the rest of the day. Sunday morning I drove to Liberal to do my grocery shopping. Smiling and cheerful I walked through stores greeting everyone I met. Humanity looked lovely to me, beauty was evident in every rough face I found. For some inexplicable reason I am happier and feel better about life on Earth after a night of excess.
That was the problem with my drinking habit, I was using it for stress relief. Had it been working I would just stick with it, but I was feeling more stressed than ever these days, so it was time for a change. I am sticking with my promise to abstain from drinking until next mothers day. In this year I plan to find better ways of dealing with the stress of everyday life.

Where's the lamb?

A couple of months ago on a cold Sunday afternoon I sat down with my family and watched Julie and Julia. It reminded me of how much I love cooking. In my life I cook almost daily, and I enjoy it, however, it has been a long time since I have tried anything more involved than risotto. After the movie I decided to try cooking a more difficult meal each week. That never happened. I did do eggs benedict one Sunday morning, I'll count that as one meal in two months. Now that I have five children in my home,and one of them in that dreaded senior year in which the time it takes is only outpaced by the amount of money it costs, I spend a good part of my time in the kitchen. Did I really want to try anything too taxing?
On a feild trip to Topeka last week I read an article in Food & Wine that included three Morrocan recipes. Surely I could do these. Sunday night while on my bimonthly shopping trip I picked up the few ingredients I needed. Everything I would need, except for the main ingredient for my Lamb and Noodle stew. The week before Easter I had bought a beautiful lamb roast at Dillons, so I had not expected any trouble. I had roasted the lamb right away with a simple garlic and salt paste rubbed on it, why hadn't I saved it? Sunday at 11:00 pm there was no lamb to be found in Liberal. Not to be detered I pulled a beef arm roast out of my deep freeze to make Beef and Noodle Stew.
Wednesday was to be the day. The weather was forcasted to be cool and windy, so I would not want to be outdoors, and I had nothing else planned. Of course work got in the way. I worked a half an hour late in the Elk office and needed to put in a couple of hours at our local office. I made it back into town at five and decided to put off the local office until I had put the girls to bed. I didn't read the recipes thoroughly before I started, which is unusual for me, normally I visualize the whole thing to help make a plan. Diving right in I did not notice that the noodles were to go through a longer process than simply boiling them. I started with the eggplant dish since it seemed to take more time. While the eggplant was charring in a stainless steel pot, not the cast iron cassarole, I started the beef dish. The recipe called for a cilantro bundle. For a second I stared at the cilantro thinking it would just be easier to chop it and toss it in. "Are you going to do this or not?" I asked myself. Had I really become such a lazy cook that walking into the next room and cutting a piece of string was too much for me? I tied the cilantro and tossed it in the pan. It was not difficult. I put the saffron into a skillet to toast for ten seconds. I pressed it with a wooden spoon and started counting. Miss Universe walked in with Huggy bear. I grabbed my tea and walked to the sofa to talk with her a second. While we were talking the fire alarm went off. The saffron was black. I started over with a new batch. The eggplant dish was finished earlier than I expected. I put it in the oven which was still warm from toasing the almonds. It was then that I noticed that the noodles required two forty minute steaming sessions before they went into the water. As I reached the point where the lamb was almost done I stressed out and started to think about skipping one of the steaming sessions. It was already after seven-thirty, I needed to get the girls in the shower by eight-thirty. They were outside jumping on the trampoline with Huggy bear and Sebastion. I decided not to skip on the noodles. I started the pear desert and made myself another cup of tea. By the time I sat down to drink my tea I realized that I was almost done. The noodles would need a two minute boil and the pears could poach while we ate.

The dinner was delicious. It took three hours for me to cook it, but I think I can cut that down to one and a half next time. The girls did not get into bed until ten, which meant that I didn't finish up at the local office until midnight. It was good though, and it made great leftovers on Thursday.

Here we go again.

Just when I quit expecting it Drama Queen had a crisis. She is in rehab, and the girls are back living with me. It is always amazing to me how we manage to fit two more kids in our three bedroom home, but kids are like tupperware, they stack.I was worried about how hard it was going to be to bring them back at the end of the school year. I was afraid it would be especially hard since it was a promotion year for Beezus and she would have to miss her field trip and the ceremony. They are troopers though and have not complained at all. In fact they seem cheerful about the whole situation. Yesterday I was up on my roof working while they ran around the yard in their swimming suits playing in the numerous mud puddles. Ramona said 'her first day of school was excellent, thanks for asking' before anyone could think to ask her how school was. She added that the food was better here than it was in Wichita. I will have to tell Anna that. since she is cook at our school.

*I have picked new names for the girls now that they are not really babies anymore. You probably noticed from context they are Ramona and Beezus.

A second pro-choice post; I am getting predictable

Not one of the news stations I listen to have mentioned the school in Washington that allowed a fifteen year old student to leave school for a medical procedure, that happened to be an abortion, that is probably because they were covering acutal news. With a couple of wars, healthcare, and violence against legislators they have been a bit busy. However, their unthoughtfullness left me unprepared this morning when I was faced with this question, "Have you heard about the school in Washington that hauled a fourteen year old girl off campus for an abortion? Her mother had signed a consent form for them to take her child off campus for 'treatment' at the start of the school year, but it never mentioned abortion." I bet it did not mention stitches either.
Since I was unprepared my only two responses were, "She should have read that paper a little more closely; she should have looked into that better," (I will explain why I even said the second half of the sentence in a minute) and "If her daughter got pregnant, had a pregnancy test, and an abortion without consulting her maybe she should be looking at her parenting skills."
When a teenager in our area has a child the first response I hear is "That is another one of our babies," said in a snide tone. This is to point out that our tax dollars will go towards raising this child. If we do not want to pay for the child, or provide for family planning where do we expect teenagers who have made a mistake to go for help? Since it was a private clinic that made arrangements with the girl the only role the school played was letting her miss class without a note from home.
Teenage pregnancy is a sad situation with no great solutions, but the private clinic, not the school,stepped in and did what they thought was right. The girl made her decision. No laws were broken, and now the mother is spending her energy railing against the school. Will she still have energy left to go home and build a relationship with her daughter? Will it occur to her that she should?

As for that unexplained half of a sentence that looks a bit random I was just being an ass. Earlier this week we were talking about healthcare reform and the problems we as a nation are facing. We both agreed that malpractice insurance is a problem. Her solution was that people should not be allowed to sue doctors who make a mistake. "Not even if they cut off the wrong leg?" I asked. Her solution does not allow suing at all. It is the patients responsibilty to research the doctor, with a mistake like a wrongly cut off leg on the doctors record no one else is likely to choose that doctor. If they are not allowed to sue patients will do a better job of choosing doctors in the first place. Which is great except for that first unfortunate patient;he is still without a leg.