In the past few weeks I have been contacted/visited by/seen randomly about five or so exes.

Some of these exes are well aware of this blog…Hell, it played a role in a few of those romances and is the way at least one of these guys still keeps tabs on me.

I am sure at some point curiosity and the cat will get together and at least a few of them will stop by here to see what, if anything, I might have mentioned.  I could certainly wax poetic over the past, or describe the ironic/strange/awkward situations.  But I seem to have drifted away from that voice.

So….in general, to all men I might have dated/slept with/been married to….

1)  At some point, for some amount of time, you rocked my world and I thank you for it.  I don’t date losers (minus one horrible meal at Carrabba’s), so I still think of you highly no matter what the outcome of us.

2)  I hope you are enjoying life.  It seems like most of you are.

“Are you still up for tomorrow night?”

“Kinda.”

“Uh oh.”

“Yeah.”

Turns out, he was only kinda up for it as well.

I like him, I really do. As well as you can like anyone whom you’ve seen three times in the past five months.

It hit me the week of the AC breakdown/New Jersey trip. He’d had spotty internet access and was emailing about once a week. As I sat down to respond to his latest, I had to sit back and close my eyes against all the shit that had happened. How did I sum that up?

That’s when I realized that it really wasn’t going to work. Casual or serious, I wasn’t going to get what I wanted from a relationship – support and distraction. Someone to either battle my fears with me or take me out for drinks and make me feel pretty so I can forget about them for a while.

2009 Progress Update

I got to this point in the document without figuring out to whom I was referring.

The snafu I walked into this morning was my fault. Totally. It might have been less of one had boss #1 remembered a few discussions, or boss #2 hadn’t known why I ditched out yesterday. No one likes a reminder that work is not your number one priority. (Although he has often chided me for making it such a high priority when I’ve pulled a 24-hour shift. You can please some of the people all of the…)

I hate that I enjoy my job so much that I want to cry over this. I let people down. I was let down.

The thing that I don’t get is that both #1 and #2 always comment on how I got dumped with too much work, too many important tasks, and that I’ve done a kick ass job considering. I’ve been in meetings where I represent half of the dozen interfaces discussed. (Other people = one or two)

Are the mistakes I make an outcome of just being overworked? Am I multitasking to a point that to err is human? Or is there something flawed in my approach that allows for these slip-ups?

I guess I’m down because I want to do a kick ass job. No qualifier or explanation needed.

It rained all last night. I love this weather. I used to go to pass-a-grille and walk the entire length – from the “To Public Beach” sign, to the concrete pier that the fisherman use – during downpours.

I’ve huddled against someone on that pier during a hurricane who turned out not to do it for me. I walked hand-in-hand over that sand with someone who didn’t want the date to end after dinner-and-a-movie (and we still ended up back at my place, watching “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”), but turned out not to want to do it for me.

I drove to that beach with W only to not get out the car, taking advantage of the mood thunderstorms put me in.

But mostly, I remember Monica. Junior year. No boys (er, for the most part). Our own apartment. Mornings of cappaccino and grapefruit halves. Nights of sand, seashells, and rain.

2009 Progress Update

I skipped around my folder a bit.  I didn’t neccesarily want to choose items to share in chronological order.  It would seem like I’m telling a story.  And I’m not, at least not to my knowledge.

The first part, the job part, hits home because I feel a sprained my ankle in part due to over-working.  (I deleted “being over worked” because that implies someone other than myself put the heavy on me.)  So, obviously I’m very much the same.

The last part, the beach and men and Monica part…I haven’t had many close female friends in my life.  Or close friends period.  The sprained ankle brings it out in me as well – I can’t stand the incessant questions regarding my health from collegues and volunteers.

I always thought I was good about being friends and keeping in touch with people.  But they have babies and I have jobs and here we are.  Or, here I am.  We implies the babies and the jobs didn’t change anything.  And they did.  They always do.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the amout of time I spend at the sanctuary precludes much of a social life.

That includes a religous social life.

Today was the first day since I sprained my ankle I resumed even semi-normal animal care activities.  As it was my Sundy to coordinate the volunteers, I was head honcho.  No one could tell me no.  So I gimped around 6 cages, filled water bowls, picked up extra meat, picked up the result of not-extra meat, and cared for the animals.

This is the best fucking day I’ve had in so fucking long.

I have mentioned to friends here or there that I believe to some extent I am completing a higher power’s will by caring for these animals.  What I don’t think I mention is why I feel that way.  That the fulfillment I get from dirty legs and latex gloves is something I can only hope for others.

Thank God.

When my family came to visit for the holidays, we were blessed with warm weather.  This was unusual because the temperature always seems to dip into the teens (OK, forties) when my mother crosses the state line.

We took advantage by eating on the outside patio of Sea Critters, by far my favorite sea food restaurant in the Tampa Bay area.  Tom and I have successfully entertained many out-of-town guests there, as well as just gone for a twosome meal every now and then.  But remember, I’ve lived in this area for ten+ years now.  Sea Critters has been one of my go-to spots for almost as long.

Which led to the following conversation at the dinner table with my entire family…

Him:  It’s not too bad this time.  We usually have to wait.

Me:  Not always.

Him:  Yes, at least a little bit.

Me:  Not the time I got drunk off Mai Tais.

Him: ….

Me:  Maybe that wasn’t you.

Him:  Yes, you really should change states when changing husbands so that doesn’t happen.

Me:  Wasn’t a husband.

Him:  Well, hell.  There’s not enough states to start covering the rest of them!

Have you ever felt that any choice you made was going to be right and wrong?

That’s how it feels when you realize you want a divorce.

There’s no way to describe it and make anyone understand except those who also had to make this choice. Yes, I use the word, “had” and “choice”. A mandatory selection. One that you never thought you’d consider, but can no longer deny is staring at you from the ballot box.

And you can do your research. You can find out how other people handled this. And while you’re talking to them, you feel calm and good and know that you will make the right decision.

That feeling can sometimes last through the car ride home and putting away the laundry.

You will decide to trust your intuition – go with what “feels” right. Then he will call. Or not. You will ask if he will move into your apartment complex and he’ll say no.

2009 Progress update

My ex-husband and I still live in the same city, and have some of the same friends.

We are both remarried.  He to a woman younger than him; me to a man older than me.  Him with a child (a son, I believe) as he always wished (I hope); me childless with no plan to change that scenario as I always wished (and I hope Tom wants as well).

I truly don’t feel like I was ever married before.  Of course, I don’t feel like I am married now.

Life is a series of scenarios.  Of people.  Of instances.

I don’t believe you can say happily ever after to anyone but yourself.  That’s pragmatic and sad at the same time.

And yet….

As writing this, I realize the date of this post was one day shy of a potential 3 year anniversary.

Is life about potential and anniversaries?  Or pragmatic and sad?

Or is it simply technical?  Technically, due to lawyers and paperwork, it was a 3 year anniversary.  And technically, I couldn’t care less.

Or could I?

Apparently, I came close to making all my 2008 resolutions a reality.

1)  Do not move.  Check.  Still in condo.  And it appears that may be what’s in store for 2009 as well.  Thank God we can still afford this place.  Now if only we could get rid of the pee smell in the bedroom and study, fix the roof and ceiling, and perhaps own more items than animals…

2)  Change part-time life to full-time life.  Technically, I believe I still have to bring out a flow chart to explain my daily doings.  But at least I do them all in the same place!  I honestly cannot remember when I wrote that if I had an inkling that the position at the sanctuary was going to be in the offering.  If not, I am pretty sure my itchiness had much to do with how I struggled to find meaningful classes as a part-time student.    You may or may not have noticed, but I haven’t returned to classes.  If I do, it will be very easy online courses just to keep me in the student loop.  I still feel I am learning and accomplishing enough at the sanctuary to keep me intellectually on my toes.

3)  The better health, no dead pets, and passport usage hopes did not really come to fruition in 08.  I think overall I was not as sick, but my weight still teeters on uncomfortable and that is very evident as I am nursing a sprained ankle and notice each ounce I must shift from place to place.  Then of course not only did we lose Roark, but Spike and Lady had very expensive, dangerous ailments as well.  Perhaps my 2009 wishes should be for better health for every living being in this condo – pee and all.

While the passport remained in my dresser drawer, we did manage to travel to places in the US we had never been.  I’ll take partial credit on that one.

And my one real resolution of recycling more was a whopping, annoying, success.  I would say that no glass, metal, or plastic that can be recycled at our local centers has been thrown out this year.  Almost all paper as well – including food boxes, little scraps of receipts, etc.  We got so good at using canvas bags for groceries that I started pillaging my less-green friends plastic bag stashes so we could clean the litter boxes.  And then I took it one step further – we now make such an effort to save extra plastic bags (from tortillas, bread, internal packaging of small boxed goods) that we no longer need to beg plastic from anyone.

And yes, it is annoying.  As in, I am annoying.  You cannot recycle that much stuff without becoming a hippie tree hugger.  I also encourage recycling at work – to the point that volunteers know to stuff cardboard in my trunk – and it’s always dangerous to get that label at work.  People will actually scan my face quickly before slowly motioning towards a trash can with some item.  Just in case I’d like to karate chop them for not reusing that paper towel a third time.

Despite the annoyance, I do hope to continue this trend in 2009.  Specifically, I think we could greatly reduce our electricy and water usage.  These are going to be the biggies for me – I love a well-lit house and a nice hot bath.  But since these energy savings also should translate to real savings, perhaps I can find incentive there.

Lastly…and the whole point of the title of this post…just this week I found a deal on a new laptop I couldn’t turn down.  I’m writing from my brand new Sony Vaio (my old laptop was a Sony as well – I like them).  It has a built-in web camera that I am sure I will use for your amusement and my embarrassment some time in the near future.

In transferring files over so that I may donate my old laptop to the sanctuary, I’ve been hit once again with how much I’ve written in the past that I’ve never polished and posted.  Since it’s quite obvious I’m never going to post my current circumstances with any regularity, I thought I might start dredging some of the old stuff up.

2009…what better time to write about 2004?