Tuesday, September 29, 2009
It might seem odd to you that I have bad "kitchen feelings." They range from batter to waffle. To me the kitchen is a volatile place full of sharp, pointed objects and microwave-operated incinerators. When I pass by I hear strange sounds that go 'crash' - 'whoosh' -'hiss' and 'boohoo'. The kitchen has never been a fun place for me since childhood. It was the place where my mom and dad staged a fight that ended with one of them throwing a toaster across the room at the other. It was the place where my ex-husband and I had a fight that ended with him wrapping a phone cord around my neck. It was the place where my sister cut her finger on a piece of glass so sharp that she required 56 stitches. I have two windows in my kitchen and they are closed up as tight as a drum. "Keep the curtains closed," mother would say, "or someone might see in."
The only good reason I can think of for entering the place in the first place is to get a nice cold beer out of the frig.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
ABC WEDNESDAY...J IS FOR...JEALOUSY
I always thought jealousy was a reaction one feels when someone else achieves something great.
There is a woman in my life who fits this definition yet she's not the object of my jealousy. If she were, my feelings would make sense to me. She's wealthy, manages a non-profit, and has a great family. (In fact, I’m happy for her especially because trickle down economics means rewards for me.)
The woman I’m jealous of lives next door to us up at our cabin. She is a hateful and miserable woman but everyone is afraid to ruffle her feathers. When I drop by to visit, sometimes she just sits at her little puzzle table, looking out the window, and she chooses either to acknowledge me or not. No one, including her husband and daughter, sees this as unusual and it is accepted. This has been going on for at least six years and continues.
Thinking turn-a-bout is fair play, I tried the same tactics. She dropped by today and I kept doing what I was doing, cleaning, and only said, “good morning.” That’s more of an acknowledgment than I often get from her. As soon as she left, Mr. P shouted at me about how all females come with drama, drama, drama and asked me why I can’t be friendly to her. Many attempts to explain my position landed on his deaf ears.
Experts say: “Tell what you envy, and you reveal a great deal about yourself.” I find it deeply distressing that I would waste so much emotion feeling this way about her. I do understand why my feelings are so distressing – it is the knowledge that my jealousy is based on pettiness and nothing of substance that I can identify.
I am jealous of an insignificant woman who somehow has created a world in which she doesn’t have to adhere to social decorum.
So what does this say about me? I don’t have a clue.
Denise facilitates this meme where we all go through the alphabet from A-Z and construct a post with the designated weekly letter.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Jazz has a game she's playing and I want to play too. Her idea: "We should ask fellow bloggers who wouldn't object to sharing, how they met their significant other and what was it that turned them on, aside from anything obvious. What think you?" I think it's a fun idea.
All she asks you to do is post it and then click on her link above and post a comment so she can read it too.
I met Mr. P on Match.com. That's funny in and of itself, I think. I will never forget the first email I received from him, especially since I saved it and I'll never delete it. He said, "I think you're lovely. I would like to know you better." He sent a picture of himself with the email with his cute little sun roof head, his round glasses, and his sly shit-eating grin. I thought it was very sweet.
At that time in my life, my 13-year-old son had just come to live with me; I was parking my car in all different spots to avoid the repossession henchmen; and I didn't have a computer. I was working in a call center and since I couldn't afford insurance on my car, I took a bus to work. I was at the bus stop at 5:00 AM every morning and I got off at one of the most dangerous bus stops in downtown Phoenix on Van Buren Street, which is known for its prostitutes and drug dealers. Suffice it to say, times were tough.
I was leery of meeting anyone on the Internet so I wouldn't tell him any of my personal information. We did find out that in this very "small" world we live in that we were living within three miles of each other. I remember sitting on my porch talking to him on the phone for hours. The thing that first turned me on was his voice. He has one of the sexiest voices I've ever heard in my life. His voice goes right through me. It touches my heart in a way no one else's does.
I agreed to meet him at a restaurant within walking distance to where I worked. He loves to tell people that we met on "Van Buren." He often jokes that if I'm not good to him, he'll put me back on the street. He has a great sense of humor, and that is one of his best qualities.
He was sitting across the table staring at my boobs. For some reason, it didn't bother me a bit. He finally apologized for staring at my chest. I told him it would probably hurt my feelings if he didn't. We laughed. He walked me out and gave me a light kiss on the lips, and I was in lust. Here is a guy that up to that point, I would have not given a second look.
We dated and soon I was falling hard. We broke it off though because I felt I was spending way too much time away from my son who was 13. I explained to Mr. P how torn I felt. My son's therapist said that I needed to spend more time with Joey. We agreed he wasn't ready for a commitment and I started to move on without him. One day a couple of weeks later, he called me and asked me to go for a walk with him to talk. I agreed. He offered for my son and I to move in with him. He lived with his son and he hoped we could be a family.
My advice for anyone looking for the love of their life: Don't judge a book by its cover. If you do, you may just miss out on the love of your life.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
ABC WEDNESDAY...G IS FOR...GEEZER
Mr. P. is retiring this month after working in government for almost 30 years. As for me, I have another 10 years to go.
He may be an old geezer but he's my old geezer and I love him and wish him a long and healthy retirement.