I am a New Englander, a Southerner, my own woman, Rex's daughter, a quivering mass of contradictions. Nothing here means any more or less than you want it to mean. This and a buck fifty will get you coffee. But it's me. And I really like that.
When my dad first died, I marked a lot of time. I wasn't suicidal or anything. Even then, I knew there were too many adventures to have to even think like that. Plus, it would be the greatest insult to his memory and his parenting. But I did mark a lot of time, living for the time I would die and get to see him again.
Even once the grief changed and I stopped marking time, started actually living for living again, I often said that, given a relatively sound mind and body, I wouldn't want to live past my mid-to-late 80s because I didn't want to go without seeing my dad any longer than that.
Last night, Lithus and I got to talking about vampires (don't ask). It dawned on me that, while I would miss my dad deeply, if I were with Lithus, I would be want to be immortal. It's a silly, unrealistic thing to even consider. And it made me smile anyway.
Guess I married the right guy two years ago.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
I'm a bit of a procrastinator. At the time I published yesterday's post, I still hadn't gotten Lithus a Valentine's Day card yet. Yeah...He, however, had presented me with flowers. And a poem. Yep. A poem. *Pobble dissolves into a puddle* Written by him, from his heart.
At the grocery store yesterday afternoon, there were several of us, looking at the cards. We got to chatting, the way strangers do, and bemoaning the fact that we had put off getting cards for our significant others until the last minute. Putting back yet another really bad card, I muttered "I got a poem." The woman next to me asked "Really?" "Yeah," I nodded. "How is one of these supposed to compete with a poem????" She shook her head. "You really can't." We laughed. I'm please to say I managed to do all right anyway. But let it be a lesson to you ~ you really can't compete with a poem.
My Flowers
Game hen, asparagus and couscous
And yes, we ate in front of the television last night but here's why...
Casablanca in the background :)
And last, but never least, my dear Lithus.
This isn't even how he was dressed for last night. This was just for going out the other day, rocking the Sean Jean on a random Friday to run errands. But he's gorgeous and I wanted to share. :)
Those are romantic, mushy, here's looking at you kid, Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Yes, yes, yes, I know. It's a commercialized, artificial holiday, created by Hallmark and other evil corporations.
So what?
See, I don't care. I love it. Always have.
Now that I'm with Lithus? Good grief, I'm positively mushy. We each have things that make the day important. For me, it's flowers. No roses, thank you very much, but flowers. For him, it's a romantic dinner. Today, he showed up with an amazing bouquet, wild and messy and gorgeous. Tonight, I'm preparing Cornish game hen, with couscous and asparagus. And, of course, chocolate. :)
So to all of you, if you love Valentine's Day, or loathe it. If you celebrate it with a partner, or friends... Happy Valentine's Day. May your day be filled with chocolate and romance.
Those are mushy, romantic Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you yummy chocolates.
I have been busy and flat out since mid last week. I have nothing to show for it and nothing to point to and say "that's what I was doing" but today is the first day I've stopped. I'm okay with this.
Freaked out a little bit today. Never cross the streams. One of the followers of Pauline tweeted about a site and a specific post that an IRL friend has talked about frequently. And it's not a viral video, but a somewhat obscure site and post. Seriously, people, don't cross the streams.
Lithus is flying a gig for NASA over the next couple days. It's "rocket collection." Please note, it's not "missle collection." They were very clear about this. Rocket.
He will be based out of Fairbanks. The good news is that Fairbanks has warmed up to 11 degrees during the day, so the temperature won't be crazy cold for him.
Two new pairs of jeans, my cool boots from the previous post, and new lipsticks. I'm not sure if it speaks well about my character how happy these little things continue to make me ~ or if it means I'm a little pathetic. Regardless, I continue to be deliriously happy.
Hm...what should've been the first in this list, perhaps...we are, once again, as of today, grandparents. As my step-daughter put it "tell Pobble she's officially a grandmother; I know she'll love that." At least it's already been established that I don't hold babies.
Looking at pictures from my Heart's visit, we held a lot of food. Mind you, it was really big food and worthy of holding. Just check out the pizza (and the two amazing men I got to spend my week with, of course).
Still, we held a lot of food. I'll see if I can get him to send me pictures he took on his camera for a more event-based, less food-holding-based post.
Was flipping back and forth between the Super Bowl and the Puppy Bowl ~ until the puppies all decided they were tired of entertaining the non-football people and just lay down. Plus, there were no dachhunds. What is the point of showing adoptable puppies if there are no dacschunds?
Egypt...Yeah. Others have said it better and more eloquently so I'll leave it at: Egypt. *sigh*
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
A few months before My Heart turned six, I found a trip to New York City to see The Lion King on Broadway. We could afford it and Crow said I could take him and the birthday trip was born. Over the years, we've done Disney twice, NYC twice, Boston twice, Everett, Vancouver, and now Anchorage. Twice I simply couldn't afford anything. Once Crow booked something else for him the same week he was supposed to come to me. And once there was a Wii instead of a trip, at his request. Otherwise, my Heart's birthday trip is pretty much a given.
Because he is older, this year was a little different. We hung out. We played a lot of cribbage and watched even more netflix. My Heart had schoolwork to do every single day. We hit coffeeshops, went for walks, and did exciting things like laundry and grocery shopping. It's easier to do ordinary life things now that he's older. I didn't have to schedule the hell out of the week, ensuring that every single moment was interesting. He's old enough now to read a book, noodle on his computer, whatever. But there wasn't a lot of boredom, because we talked and laughed and kept ourselves entertained.
Because he is older, this year was...bittersweet. He's eighteen now. The birthday trip is no longer a given, after this year. Next year, he heads for college and a life that has its own schedule and new priorities. As I told him at the airport yesterday morning, hanging out with your aunt and uncle, no matter how beloved they are, probably won't be as important ~ and honestly, shouldn't be.
But as I waited for him to walk through security, I couldn't help but remember the way I had once had to brace myself for the impact of his little body running full speed to me once he saw me. Playing games in airports; trying new foods; getting to have sugar for breakfast and dessert for lunch; big band music; tea at the Ritz; invisible aliens; pictures of pigeons; seeing cities for the first time; planes, trains and automobiles... Eighteen years of memories and birthday trips and Aunt Mame time.
It's hard to see him grow up, let him go, know that this was probably the last birthday trip of its kind. The good news, though, is that, as Lithus put it on the way home from taking my Heart to the airport to go home, we have quite an unusual relationship. It may have been the last birthday trip of its kind. It's far from the last trip. We will have other adventures together. More importantly, though, he'll have adventures on his own and with his own friends and the family he creates. And I'll take credit for teaching him the world is for having adventures in. Because really...what amazing adventures await him...
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
My Heart, my Heart, my Heart Is here in town. My Heart, my Heart, my Heart Is here in town. My Heart, my Heart, my Heart Is here in toooooooowwwwwwwwwnnnnnnn....
My Heart is here in town! Yay!
And I am a very happy aunt.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
From the age of nine through high school, I walked in and out of three homes in my hometown as easily and as readily as I walked in and out of my own home. Truth be told, I think I could show up at all three of those houses tomorrow, ring the bell, walk in without waiting, and be welcomed. That's just how it was.
The Dad Person in one of those houses has died. I'm not sure I've seen him since my own father's funeral. I don't think I have. It doesn't matter.
Tonight, I am nine again, and having one of my first sleepovers in his t.v. room with his youngest daughter and another girl whose house I would eventually make another home. I am thirteen and have just gotten hurt in the theatre and his hugs are big enough to make me feel better and calm me down. I am fifteen and heading off to Philadelphia and he is at my going away party. And on and on and on...until I am twenty-seven and my father is dead and this other Dad Person is in our kitchen.
I am the youngest of the four daughters the two families have so, perhaps, it is the time that these phone calls and emails will start coming. But I don't want them to. And I don't want him to have been the first. It is, though, and he was.
Oooo...there were blisters under the bandages. I wanted to take a picture but Lithus said no. Actually, Lithus didn't say anything. Just looked at me with that look. So no pictures. Ah well. All's better now, although Lithus says they felt like burns when the doctor first removed them. And no infection or anything. But still...oooooo. And ick.
Finally got in contact with my editor and my pub house. Her hoping to get the October deadline book read by the end of November was far too optimistic. She's now hoping to get it read in February. This is how it works. My first piece of advice to aspiring authors is finish the book. My second piece is have a ton of patience. Because you know what? It's not a no. She might not have said yes, but she hasn't said no. And I'll take that.
Pain meds continue to look really fun.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Have added muscle relaxants to the pain meds. He's resting better now ~ although perhaps he's just stoned out of his mind.
Sleep deprevation is an interesting phenomenon.
His pain meds include laudanum. Yep, laudanum. Apparently, they still make it. And yes, it still works. Especially when in combination with a muscle relaxant.
Of everything he's on, the one thing I'm concerned he'll become addicted to is the ice pack.
See this studly man flexing his new tattoo for the camera? Yeah, he's not actually flexing. He's humoring me. And that's not actually a new tattoo. Check it out.
It's the word "yes." In sharpie pen.
As in, "Yes, doctor, this is the shoulder you are supposed to be cutting into and operating on." What I find interesting is that the handwriting is not mine, nor is it Lithus's. It's the doctor's. At the pre-op appointment, he marks the joint himself.
Back when Lithus was in Spain, he slipped stepping off the helicopter. A twist here, a missing handle there and, ta-dah, here we are! Rotator cuff surgery. All will be well, of course. However, after having been posting every single day for over a month, I realized I very well might just...not be here. *Poof* Plus, it's a fun chance to show off my dear Lithus. :)
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ but not after midnight or before 11:00 a.m.
What an amazing holiday season it's been this year. Given that it started with Lithus out of town for Thanksgiving, I admit I'm surprised and pleased. I wouldn't have expected it to be so wonderful. While I am sorry to see them end, I am also looking forward to seeing what 2011 brings.
Because 2010 was certainly an interesting experience. We started in Connecticut, under the Lovely Cats's stairs. Then came a hot minute thinking we had a job in New Orleans, before Nevada and Crow's house ~ and my heart's bedroom, God love him. Then *boom* we're in Alaska, still living out of boxes, still living on the road, but in such a very different way.
So bring on 2011. There's an adventure around the next corner; let's go find it together, shall we?
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Even I cannot make the holidays go on much longer, as much as I would like to. Today and tomorrow and then we'll be back to our regularly scheduled postings. For now, though, the music continues.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
I have mentioned in the past that I write for a little, independent newspaper out of Bellingham, Washington. While I very rarely cross the streams, I liked January's article a lot so, here it is...
Happy New Year, Poppets! Have you recuperated yet? Are you ready to start fresh in 2011? Because that’s what new years are for, right? Fresh starts, resolutions, changing who we are, all that. Only…I don’t believe that. As I have written here before, I am all for making personal changes; I am not a fan of the pressure to make said changes based on the turn of the calendar.
When I worked in human services - a long time ago, in another life – we would often get people who had made it through the holidays, made it through New Year’s, but would show up in our offices sometime between mid-January and mid-April, horribly depressed because once again they had failed to lose weight, quit smoking, save money, whatever their resolution had been. They had used this time to try to stop being self-destructive even though there is no reason to think it will work any better now than it does on a random Tuesday in March. But they beat themselves up as if they had failed at something simple.
I was talking to Lithus about this the other day, explaining why I don’t like New Year’s resolutions, when he said something that struck me. He said that there are people who hold out for this particular turn of the calendar with the hopes of not just making a change, but the hopes of forgiving themselves for the past year’s (even years’) sins. They use whatever resolution they make as a manifestation of that forgiveness. But the forgiveness isn’t really there, so the resolution doesn’t stick. When the resolution doesn’t stick, it just proves we don’t deserve to be forgiven. And if we aren’t forgiven, then why do we deserve to stop being self-destructive? It’s a cycle.
It kind of rocked me back on my heels. I’ll be honest; I had never thought of it that way.
So this year, I have a suggestion. Let’s make forgiving ourselves our New Year’s resolution. One year for Lent, a friend of mine gave up self-loathing. For my thirty-fifth birthday, my gift to myself was to embrace my curves and be comfortable in my own skin. Years later, my friend still has the self-confidence she gained that Spring and to this day I rock my plus-size fashion with the sexiest of them. In other words, we can do this forgiveness thing and have it stick.
First, don’t resolve to change any specific, outward thing. Habits, patterns, actions, addictions can all wait for a bit. Second, forgive yourself for not having changed those habits, patterns, actions or addictions yet. You aren’t a failure. Whatever it is, we aren’t bad people. Not at our core. The forgiveness really can be the action this year.
Because here’s what happens - once we’ve forgiven ourselves, we can start to see ourselves as people worth being healthy. Physically. Emotionally. Worthy of not self destructing. When we feel worthwhile, any change we make is more likely to stick, even on a random Tuesday in March. Especially on a random Tuesday in March.
Okay, yeah, this got a little touchy-feely. But you want the truth? I believe every word of it. I believe self-forgiveness is one of the greatest resolutions we can make. I believe we are more likely to make the changes we need to make when we like our core selves first. So, if you have to make a resolution in 2011, try this one.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
This isn't just one of my favorite carols, it's one of my all time favorite songs. For me, it's part of Scrooge's promise to keep Christmas in his heart throughout the year.
Sorry so short. I'm rushed today and wanted to get this up.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Every year, I get a pap smear and, since turning 40, a mammogram. My biological grandmother, the original Pauline, died of breast cancer before I ever even met her. Hell, my mother was only 16, so it's something we take seriously in my family. This year, I was at a new clinic so had to fill out all the paperwork from scratch. They always ask for family history, so I called my mom and asked how old Polly was when she was diagnosed. We did the math; I wrote down the answer; we hung up.
She was 41.
I am 41.
I am woman enough to admit; it threw me. All will be well. There is absolutely no reason to think otherwise; this was simply another yearly exam. And it was a good reminder.
Women, get your annual exams. Men, remind the women you love to get their annual exams. It's too easy to catch early. There's no reason not to see your doctor once a year. Stick around to celebrate many more holiday seasons.
Those are Pobble Thoughts ~ and Pauline's. That and a buck fifty will get you a hell of a lot more than coffee.
Lithus and I were snuggling on the couch last night and I realized ~ this has been one of the the best holiday seasons ever. Not just of my adult life. Not just since Daddy died. But, truly, ever. With that kind of statement, one would think I could explain why. Would think I could point to certain events or happenings that made it so special. I can't. It just has been.
There's been a lot of peace this year. There's been a little extra money, which yes, is helpful, as much as I'd like to say it doesn't matter. There's been the right amount of busy-ness and socializing. There's been the right amount of time just the two of us and of time to myself. It's been...wonderful.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Mostly, our living room has been neatened, but the flotsam and jetsam of the day is still scattered around in the unexpected scrap of wrapping paper or the wayward walnut that rolled under the ottoman. Lithus is back to work. I woke this morning with a plot in my head. This week, I have a doctor's appointment and a haircut. All very ordinary things.
And yet the house is still decorated. My afternoon coffee will still have a splash of eggnog rather than cream. This week I've promised myself a pecan pie and Lithus more butter tarts. We have a dinner and an event to attend for New Year's Eve...
Delightfully, the holidays don't just stop because Christmas Day passes. Which works for me.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
