The One That Got Away

Do you have a person in your past that makes you think "Wow...what if?" A friend of mine, Dr. B. and I were out this past weekend and she told me she has been invited to visit her one that got away. Which led to a very interesting discussion. Not many people get a chance to revisit these individuals. Personally, I am of the opinion that she should go. If there is still a spark there, whoo-hoo! If there isn't, then she knows that and doesn't live the rest of her life wondering. Then she asked the dreaded question: Do I have one that got away. Well, hell. Don't we all?

Since reading the title of this post, Nemeria has been thinking "OMG! She's posting about D.D.!" The One in VA and the Lovely Cats would be as well but I have spoken with them since the lock came off this particular storage box. That's the one problem with having friends who have known you this long ~ they know your secrets and what you keep locked away. ;)

Anyway, D.D....Lord, was I crazy about him. And, looking back on it as an adult, I can see that it was mutual. But at the time, two insecure teenagers, neither one really wanting to be the first to ask for something formal and official, it just never quite came together for us. When we met, we hated each other. Neither one of us thought the other knew anything about theatre and that the other was a total wanna-be. Then one day we got to singing show tunes in the dressing room. By the time we were done, we were friends. We became better friends. And I think I fell in love a little with him over songs from Oliver. He called me "my lady, Dulcinea", which, if you know Man of LaMancha is an amazingly beautiful nickname. I wrote him while he was in the army and while he was attending Julliard. Opening night of every show either one of us did, there would be at least one rose from the other. His father was one of my favorite directors and I would work with Tommy again today if he called. And D.D. kept up with my doings through his dad. And then one day...we both left town and didn't really come back.

We emailed for a while a few years ago. But we were both married and he had a child on the way and there were too many unresolved issues between us for it to be completely platonic and just catching up with an old friend. Last I heard from him, D.D. was a daddy with a son. Now, he's living in Wisconsin acting and teaching theatre at an equity house. Any time an actor has a full-time acting gig with an equity house, it's a good thing. Even if it's in Wisconsin. I, of course, am writing and that's an amazing thing. You want to know a secret, though? If you know what you're looking for, you will find D.D. in the very first novella I ever wrote and around the edges of the hero of my first novel. If you know what you're looking for...

I hope he's happy. I hope his son is healthy and his wife is strong and they are a good family. And yeah, part of me wishes I could find out for certain that those things are true. Still, most of me knows it's time to seal and lock this box back up again. Dr. B may have gotten her invitation but I haven't gotten mine and I'm not likely to. That's just how it goes sometimes.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee...maybe even in Wisconsin.

5 Things I Didn't Say

1. Now?!!? You're telling me this now??!!! What the fuck is wrong with you?

2. You're not sick. You're abused. Everyone knows it but you. Wake the fuck up. Don't go to yet another doctor. Go to an attorney.

3. Get your ass into therapy already.

4. Yes, I'm fucking scared. And I'm going to be okay. The two things aren't mutually exclusive, asshole. Maybe if you would let yourself feel you'd be able to realize that.

5. You can't even speak a complete sentence or hold down a job longer than six weeks. What in God's name makes you think you can write a book?

The odds are good that if you are reading this blog, you are not the intended recepient of any of these comments.

And thank God for my blog.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Confessions of a Slob

Hi. My name is Pobble and I'm a slob.

We all know that admitting a problem is the first step towards solving the problem. I, however, have never quite managed to take the next step. Actually, that's not true. I have taken the next step. And the next. And even a couple after that. I just took them in the wrong direction.

See, I used to be cluttered ~ very cluttered ~ but clean. Now? Now, sadly, I am just a slob. Yes, I had been known to buy new underwear until I got around to doing laundry but you could still eat off any surface in my home. I suppose you still could, I just wouldn't recommend it.

Several things have contributed to my downfall. First, came the joy of living alone. No husband or roommates to have to respect. Whoo-hoo! Freedom. Then came a pretty severe depressive episode (that's for another post but I won't be surprised or insulted if lightbulbs just went on for some people!) Let's suffice it to say that cleaning isn't really a priority when you're struggling every day to get out of bed at all. Finally, the decision to become a full-time writer. Little things like dishes and laundry seem so unimportant when compared to finding out the average January temperature in North Carolina or learning the definition of nugatory.

But you want the truth? Here it is ~ the truth is I'm just lazy. And it's finally caught up with me.

I've lived on my own a long time now. My last episode ended almost a year ago. There are plenty of hours in the day when I'm not working. But I don't clean, either. There are puppies to be snuggled and blogs to write. Friends to instant message and Harry Potter to read for the umpteenth time. Hell, if given the choice between cleaning my bedroom and studying my bellybutton, the bellybutton is going to win every time. It's kind of cute, actually.

So, while there are limits to my slobbishness (doggies' accidents get cleaned immediately and I change my sheets and towels regularly), I think I will embrace my slovenly nature. For now at least. Maybe it is a stage I will grow out of in time. And, if not, eventually Pauline can pay for maid service.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Men, Men, Yummy Men

With everything that has happened this week, I have decided to go from the emotionally draining to pure lust. It works for me tonight. I have been told I have unusual taste in men. Perhaps this is true. Generally speaking, I don't like pretty boys. My nephew and I watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith while he was here (it's PG-13) and he asked if I thought Brad Pitt was handsome. Well...no. Not really. The exception to my pretty boy rule is Orlando Bloom. There's something about him. But generally, give me a man who isn't pretty. Who doesn't look like he will take longer to get ready to go out than I do. Who has seen some life and wears it well. Men like...

Brian Dennehy ~ who has been my number one celebrity crush since I was a teenager.



Morgan Freeman ~ who is so cool he makes Samuel L. Jackson look like he's trying too hard. Plus, he taught me to read when he was on Electric Company lo those many, many years ago. Hard to get cooler than that.



Chow Yun Fat ~ Who moves like a dream and smiles like a god.

Now, before you ask, no, they don't have to be old. Let us not forget...

Joaquin Phoenix ~ who is just going to get better and better as he ages

Josh Hartnett ~ who just makes me happy

Johnny Depp ~ who outgrew being a pretty boy quite nicely in my opinion

Still, I've got nothing against pretty boys. They just aren't usually my type. Except of course, for Orlando.



Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Speechless

My mother acknowledged that her choices and behaviors over the last three years as I dealt with the divorce have been mistakes. Then she said this:

"While I can't tell you how I'm feeling about (him) right now, I do know I cannot be comfortable with a person who causes this kind of pain. I'm finally getting it the way you have wanted me to get it for so long."

I cannot simply pretend the last three years haven't happened and that she hasn't made the choices she made. And still, what an amazing first step in the healing process between us.

Speechless.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Priorities

My ex-husband is at it again. Lots of noise, blustering and posturing from him and his attorney. I've spent the last two days dealing with their crap. At one point yesterday, I needed a break and made a grocery list. It was very short and didn't provide much of a break. But today, with some good advice from appsrus (see previous post), I think I have finally gotten everything finished.

Feeling quite pleased with myself, on the way home from my Dealing With It jaunt, I stopped by the store. Afterall, I had just made the list yesterday and it was short so I should be fine. I bought coffee, half and half, the ingredients for oatmeal-chocolate chip cookies, and ritual candles. Excellent!

When I got home, I double checked my list. Yep, everything I got was on it. I forgot milk, cheese, bread, and cereal. But really, who needs food when you have coffee, cookies, and candles?????

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

My Elder

Something I have always felt was out of sorts with our society is the fact that we don't encourage friendships between generations. One of my favorite movies is The Magnificent Seven. Yul Brenner and Steve McQueen. It's aesthetically pleasing as well as a good movie. Anyway (digressing...), at one point the village is trying to decide what to do. Finally, one of the men looks at the others and says "We'll ask the Old Man. He'll know what to do." But in this society, who is the Old Man? The Town Elder? The Wise Woman? The person who's seen it and done it and has the wisdom to look objectively at a situation and see it clearly? We don't encourage this mindset.

Both my parents were only children so I don't have aunts and uncles. What I was reminided of yesterday is I have appsrus. You've heard about him here before; you've probably read his comments (although he's been MIA for a while). He has been in my life ... forever. And yesterday, while I was dealing with yet more bullshit from my ex and I just needed someone to know what was going on, I called on my Elder.

He's not overly emotional yet he can express love and concern and support with very few words. And he always has. Yesterday was no exception. He gave me some good advice but mostly he just listened. He didn't judge, he didn't lecture, he didn't pity, he didn't play Trash Pobble's Mom. He was, however, there. Unquestionably, inarguably, undeniably there.

This should not be a rare thing. This should be something we all know we have when we need it. It's a shame that it is so rare. And I'm so grateful for him.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

The Good Stuff

If you read the last post, you know the NYC trip didn't go quite as planned. There were some really good times though...

Spamalot: How Much FUN! It pokes fun at everyone and everything ~ as Monty Python has always been wont to do. If you know The Search for the Holy Grail completely and can quote it, live it, breathe it, you may not like it. If you are simply an average Monty Python/absurdist fan, it's delightful. If it is appropriate for particularly innocent 13 year olds or not is another question.

Texas Hold 'Em: Having traveled on birthday trips with my heart for the last six years, I am well aware of the benefits of throwing a deck of cards in my bag. Thank the Goddess I did this time. With his fever hovering around 100 even on the meds, I was unwilling to take my heart out into NYC winter until after we had gotten to the see the show. If he crashed after that, it was fine. But I wanted him healthy enough to make it to the theatre. Which meant a lot of time in the room. And so he taught me to play Texas Hold 'Em. Fun stuff.

Nemeria: Now, being with Nemeria is one of the best things I can do under any circumstances. Being with Nemeria when I'm dealing with a sick 13 year old, running a fever myself, and want nothing more than to have some adult conversation without having to think about everything that is going to come out of my mouth is nothing less than a gift from heaven. She found the restaurants we wanted, got us there, helped carry conversation...*whew* She the contemporary I have known longest, my oldest friend. We knew each other before we were my heart's age. Nights like this, it shows.

Serendipity 3: I introduced them to frozen hot chocolate, frozen peanut butter chocolate, and frozen mochaccino (sp?) How can that not be in the Good Stuff list?

Victor: Victor was the doorman. While I know he couldn't possibly have been there round the clock, it seemed to me whenever I went down for a smoke, there he was. He kept me company, asked after my heart, gave me directions to the drug store, gave me someone I could cuss in front of, and was generally an all-around nice guy. When it came time to get a ride to Penn Station in a blizzard, he had 7 groups on his list. I went to him and said "Put me on your list. We're in the lobby. Just let me know whenever you get down to us." His response? "You're first." And so we were.

Business Class: I booked us business class tickets on the train because I want to teach my heart to 1. enjoy the finer things in life and 2. that he is worth the finer things in life, that you don't have to be exceedingly rich or powerful or someone "special" in order to take care of yourself. I could not have picked a better trip. The trains were packed. The airports had rerouted people to Penn Station. People were sitting up in club cars and dining cars. Groups, even groups of two people, were having to split up between totally different cars on the same train. And then there was business class. There were seven of us in the enitire car. My heart and I sat at a table. We played cards. He stretched out for a nap. We had drinks and a snack. Lovely.

Monday: He was scheduled to leave Monday afternoon. Monday morning, I called Bradley International Airport to check on delays and the such. The recording said flights were running 1.5-2 hours delayed and were expected to all day. Which meant he would have missed his connection. So, I call Delta. They have flights in and out of Bradley running on time. Cool. Would she mind checking flight numbers for me? But of course, Ms. Pobble...oh. Oh my. Turns out, he wouldn't have been allowed on the flight anyway because it was the last connecting flight to where he lives and they don't allow that with unaccompanied minors. The reservation should never have been made in the first place. So, we changed his flight to Tuesday and got to hang out on Monday. We went to the bookstore. We went to see The Chronicles of Narnia. We ate popcorn and candy. We ordered pizza and talked. We agreed it was the best day of the whole trip.

As you can see, it wasn't a horrible trip. Tiring. Very tiring. And, as a nonparent who is not used to children getting sick on my watch, a little scary. I mean, I'm not used to caring for a kid with 102 degree fever. And it was good time. I hope he thought so too.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Wednesday-Tuesday ~ By the Numbers

7 ~ The time we got to the hotel.

102 ~ His temperature by 11

12:04 ~ The time I got back from the drug store with meds

15 ~ The total number of hours the poor thing got to spend out in NYC

23 ~ The number of dollars spent on in room movies

100.1 to 100.4 ~ My own temperature range Saturday afternoon until Monday morning

26.9 ~ The number of inches of snow in NYC Saturday night to Sunday night

8:10 ~ The time the fire alarm went off in the hotel Sunday morning

5 ~ The number of hours waiting at Penn Station for our train

475 ~ The flight he was scheduled to take yesterday

457 ~ The flight he took today

99.7 ~ His temperature last night without meds

4:15 ~ The time I had to wake him this morning to get him on an 8:00 a.m. flight

80 ~ My median speed from my house to the airport

50 ~ The speed limit the one and only time I saw a cop

51 ~ My speed the one and only time a saw a cop

3 ~ The hours of the nap I took after getting him to the airport and making it home myself

3 ~ The total number of posts, including this one, I expect to make on the trip

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

What a Difference a Year Makes

My 13 year old nephew, my heart, arrived from the left coast last night. The last time we saw each other was last March. My little boy is a young man. We are already enjoying each other more and that's saying quite a lot considering how much we have enjoyed each other the last thirteen years.

The not-ex friend and I introduced him to the joys of live big band last night. He loved it. That's my boy. :)

Today, we head to NYC for four days. We have tickets to Spamalot and plans to meet Nemeria for Moroccan food. Don't worry that I don't post or comment again before Monday night. I'm hanging with my heart and life is good.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Back to High School

My Dear One has been interested in a girl I have not ~ not ~ liked for him. At all. She's a little player. She's cute and used to getting what she wants without worrying much about if she's hurting people along the way. Now, I have no problem with getting what you want because you're cute. I have a serious problem with not worrying about hurting people as you do so. She has a rivalry with another young woman who is also interested in my Dear One and I have always wondered if this was the real reason she was interested. In fact, several young women have things for my Dear One ~ the student, the actress, the ballerina. Any one of them would have been better for him in my opinion than this one. There has been nothing about this girl that has made me happy.

But my Dear One is crazy about her. So, I have been as supportive as I could be without being hypocritical or flat out lying. Last night, he tells me this chick is officially going out with someone else. Her reasoning is that she wants to get experience dating so that when she turns 17 and it's legal for her to date my Dear One, she will have had more boyfriends. Yeah. Right.

Turns out, in response, he has asked out the ballerina. Yay! I am so pleased! I am so relieved! I am so jealous! Yep. Gotta admit it. I feel like an ass, a cradle robber, and a pathetic female for it. No one who knows me, including myself, is surprised by this. Still... man. See, I know all the head stuff, all the intellectual stuff: the life experiences are so different; I'm an adult, he's barely one; I have done things he has never even dreamed of doing; blah, blah, blah. Because, like it or not, it's true. I'm jealous. Of a 17 year old dancer from Santa Fe, Texas. Hey, at least it is good for a laugh at myself and as a reminder that, while I'm happliy single right now, I will want to date again at some point.

Coo-coo-kah-choo, Mrs. Robinson...

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Blah, Blah, Blah

You know what I really don't like? Whiny blogs. In fairness, I'm not much for whiny people, either. And I recognize that we all blog in order to write whatever the hell we want. You don't like it, you don't have to come back. That's cool. And I'm not talking about blogs that address real concerns or blogs that occasionally give way to the pity party every person evenutally throws themselves.

But Come On People! There are some blogs out there that make me want to shake the authors and scream "Get A Therapist, for God's SAKE!" Generally, this would not be a reason to post. However, I have a confession ~ I have finally unlinked a particularly whiny blogger from my list of links. It took me a while but I finally realized, she is not the intellectual she claims to be; she is not searching for truth or change. She is whining. I wouldn't want her as a friend; why would I want her as a link? So, my apologies to those of you who read her and found her whiny. My apologies to those of you who read her and loved her and counted on being able to find her through a link on this blog.

Meanwhile, I am introducing two new links. As is my wont to do, I point you to them. Tai over at Is This Thing On? and Moi over at The Shallow End of the Wading Pool. Love them as much as I do or wonder why I've linked them, at least they aren't whiny!

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Myth v. Reality

There used to be a statistic that was quoted as fact that the busiest day of the year for domestic violence shelters was the Monday after Super Bowl. Then people came along saying that was a myth created by ... someone.

I don't know if that statistic is accurate or not. Here's what I do know ~ I have worked at three different domestic violence shelters and numerous organizations that helped domestic violence victims/survivors. And in every place I worked, we received more calls on the Monday following the Super Bowl than any other Monday. Yes, we tracked them. That was part of our paperwork. Every Monday in all but one of the general human services organization, we would run numbers. And every Monday after Super Bowl was consistently busier than any other one Monday.

So, whatever else you are doing today, if the statistic holds up nationally or not, however you may feel personally about women (and men) in violent and abusive relationships, please, take a moment to be aware today. Give thanks if you are in a healthy, loving, supportive relationship. If you are not, please consider calling the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233).

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

I'm supposed to be doing my dishes, folding my laundry and generally preparing for my nephew's arrival on Wednesday evening. Instead, I'm doing this...

You Are a Seeker Soul

You are on a quest for knowledge and life challenges. You love to be curious and ask a ton of questions. Since you know so much, you make for an interesting conversationalist. Mentally alert, you can outwit almost anyone (and have fun doing it!). Very introspective, you can be silently critical of others. And your quiet nature makes it difficult for people to get to know you. You see yourself as a philosopher, and you take everything philosophically. Your main talent is expressing and communicating ideas. Souls you are most compatible with: Hunter Soul and Visionary Soul

What Kind of Soul Are You?

The Movie Of Your Life Is An Indie Flick

You do things your own way - and it's made for colorful times. Your life hasn't turned out how anyone expected, thank goodness! Your best movie matches: Clerks, Garden State, Napoleon Dynamite

If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?

You Are an Espresso

At your best, you are: straight shooting, ambitious, and energetic At your worst, you are: anxious and high strung You drink coffee when: anytime you're not sleeping Your caffeine addiction level: high

What Kind of Coffee Are You?

You Are Lightning

Beautiful yet dangerous People will stop and watch you when you appear Even though you're capable of random violence You are best known for: your power Your dominant state: performing

What Type of Weather Are You?

And I've decided my next apartment will come with a dishwasher. And a maid.

Those are Pobble (dear-god-I-don't-want-to-clean-my-house!) Thoughts. That and a buck fift will get you coffee.

Odds and Ends

I couldn't do it. See, I had decided to take four days off from writing. No work, no writing, no blogging for four days. Thursday - Sunday. I made it two. And here were are with some pointless stuff that feels so damn good to write. :)

Size 16. That's the size jeans I'm wearing again. I wasn't going to spend money on any new ones because I don't plan on being a size 16 but for another month or two. Then I could just get into the 14s I own. Except I found jeans for $13. So I figured $13 ~ or $26, since I got two pair ~ is worth not having to hike my pants up every three minutes and knowing that I look as good as I feel. And yes, it is already easier to walk up steps.

Proud Mama. The Lovely Cats and I were both bored so I decided to drive down for a day visit yesterday. Took the doggies so they could meet her. Lionel is having an affair of the heart. I think TLC might be as well. Check out her post for some great pics of my boy and my sister. FindingAvalon3

What do you do? When you simply cannot have something you want? It may be a job, it may be a person, it may be a goal. But whatever it is, you simply cannot have it. Several of my friends and I are all going through this situation right now. Quite frankly, I'm curious to know how other people handle it. Let me know.

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. I watched this movie last night when the doggies and I got back from TLC's house. It's wonderful. Sometime, when you have nothing else to do, rent it. Remember your friends who helped make you the amazing person you are today. Remember your TLC, your Divine M., your Nemeria, The One...all those people, male or female. It's delightful.

I know her. One of the things I am most looking forward to about becoming a well known author (which I will) is hearing the stories my friends get to tell. Of being at a bookstore where a friend of theirs picks up one of my books and they get to say "I know her. Have I told you that?" Or being seen out with me and having someone come up to them later and asking "Do you really know her?" While it won't happen as often or be as interesting as if I was, say, Julia Roberts, I still think it will be cool. Nora Roberts's friends must get to have those conversations at some point.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Five Ways I Know I've Been Working Too Hard

5. The dogs have forgotten the concept of cooking. And doing dishes.

4. My Christian sister reminded me today was a holy day...for Pagans.

3. The last time I drank something without caffiene in it was... was... hm...

2. My laundry has been in the drier since Monday.

1. I know exactly when I put the coffee in the microwave to reheat it. It was yesterday ~ or last Tuesday.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee. Remembering to drink it is your department.