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.

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.

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.