So This Is Christmas ...

I'm officiallly done with school, one A and one B+.  No classes next semester -- I'll be packing and getting my life in order.

I applied for entrance into three Ph.D. programs so far: Indiana U, U of Illinois -- Chicago and American U in DC.  Two more to go: U of WA Seattle and Portland State University. I plan to get those done over Christmas break.  I'll find out in March where or if I'll go.  Obviously I WANT to go, but things are now out of my hands -- I've submitted the applications, paid the fees, ordered the transcripts and asked for recommendations -- now to wait.  wait.  wait. 

Plan B?  Move to where I want to go to school, get a job, establish residency, reapply.  Plan B does not involve Florida -- I'm done here, likely at the end of May.  I want to stay in Florida to see my friends' baby arrive, then pack up and head out -- my lease expires at the end of April, likely will extend that until the end of May, maybe 1st week of June.  No further.

Sister, Boy Wonder and I bought a perfect gift for Dad this year -- a new laptop.  Yes, dear readers, of course I installed antivirus software -- I have grown tired of "fixing" the problems he seems to download regularly.

The Hoosier Guy and I are still together -- stronger with each passing day.  He is very supportive of my quest for the Ph.D. - and although he certainly has a favorite school he'd like to see me in -- he also steadfastlly says that "you need to go where it is best for you to go."  That is both a comfort and a delight - I am blessed beyond words by him and lucky to have him.  Thank you, Hoosier Guy, for being you. 

I head back to Indiana on Wednesday -- for a week -- to see family and friends.  This trip revolves in and out of Chicago due to a freebie ticket from AirTran.  I'll be in Indy as well -- heading down to Sister and Boy Wonder's house for a lovely, quiet Christmas holiday. 

I'm thankful this year for the following:

Friends that make me laugh and who have been there in my times of need
Family who I love so very much
A safe, warm house, with plenty of food
A new love interest who makes me happy and who loves me for who I am
For two great professors this fall who pushed me to do better and be better in my field
For fabulous coworkers, who make "work" mean more than "work" 
For the ability to share my gifts, my money and my blessings with others
The opportunity to get up in the morning and appreciate each day.

Thank you, dear readers, for offering comment, sharing stories and making this blog more than just my blathering.  May you be blessed richly again this coming year.

A P.S. to "Being Defriended" from 12/8

I found out, via an email reply to the email I'd sent him, that I am defriended because he is now engaged to said woman he's been living with and she wasn't happy about me being on his friend list.  Thus, the defriending.

Oooooh, the power I have! 

Now if only this power could be transformed into a big bottle of wine, a roaring fire, the Hoosier Guy and me, that would be worth something.

That kind of power?  I don't need it, I don't want it, I wish it gone.  I'm just someone he used to date for about ten minutes, nothing more, nothing less.

Like I said, I wish him well and much happiness.

The evil side of me wonders what other things he'll have to give up in the name of love...

No Thank You, I'm good.  Don't want that kind of love.  Had that before and I'll never make the mistake of calling it love again.

1 Corinthians 13
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.
... And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

http://niv.scripturetext.com/1_corinthians/13.htm
 

It's a funny thing, being 'defriended' on Facebook

Earlier this week, I'd noted my "friend count" had gone down on FB, but with folks coming and going, and life constantly changing, I figured it was probably someone I 'gamed' with, not someone I knew.

Whether or not it was this week (or in weeks past), I now know who it was.  It's a funny thing ... this timing.  Last year at about this very time, he and I ceased dating because he was confused about his life and a past love.  At the time, I was stone cold pissed -- upset beyond words -- crying -- the nasty 'boo hooing' one only does when one is truly ALONE because of how awful you sound and look.  Looking back, I'm not quite sure why it hit me so hard -- maybe it was the 'promise' of something good dating-wise, maybe it was because he was (and likely remains) a gentleman (opening car doors and the like), or maybe it was because 'our' dairy queen lady loved to tell me about 'my husband' -- when in reality we'd only gone out a few times at that point, invariably stopping at DQ for a sweet after.  Like I said, looking back, I'm not quite sure what I was all fired up about but I was, at one point, anyway, really hurt that he and I had stopped dating.

Since that time (and shortly after we stopped dating), he moved in with yet another female and has since made a life with her and their collective children.  At last check, he seemed happy. I think that's all you can hope for someone is that they are happy (and I do wish that for him).

I looked him up today because I was curious how his classes turned out this semester.  Yes, he is a student at my college, albeit at the campus north of here, but he's mentioned me a few times in his postings and my colleagues -- often giving them a shout-out when they've been good to him.

And now we're defriended. 

And since that time of our dating, I didn't date anyone until Hoosier Guy. 

And now I am thankful EVERY DAY things didn't work out with that other guy.  I would've hated to miss out on someone as lovely as Hoosier Guy.  Funny how life works out sometimes, isn't it?

Finals Week + Grant Due = Athena Loses Mind

I know it seems like I lose my mind a lot but truly, really, it isn't as often as it appears.

This week -- mega meltdown week. 

I turned in my final for one of my classes -- but still have a group lab assignment and individual final due.  Add in a pretty major grant due (65+ pages of narrative) and you begin to see where my brain turns itself inside OUT.

So -- all of this is to say: forgive me, dear readers.  Yours truly will be utilizing all available brain matter on school and work this week.  We'll go back to our regularly scheduled blogpostings shortly thereafter.

Getting my writer's block gone.

569 posts on this blog later, you'd hardly believe I have writer's block on occasion but I do.  Right now, it is for my grad school essays.  I know better.  I know they ought to have flowed like so much Mississippi River by now but ... nada.  A few paragraphs I hate.  A few sentences I like.  Mostly a bunch of crap-ola that doesn't amount to a hill of beans.

It is time I pulled my head out of my ass and did it right.

I don't suppose starting the essay with "please please please pick me me me me me me me" will do though, right?

Damn.  back to writing.

And the Rest of the Story

The Megabus adventure fell a little flat as there was a fairly major car accident on I-65 which managed to shut down the interstate for 1.5 hours. 

I was nearly late for my appointment -- but it turned out wonderfully.  "I look forward to seeing your application" -- said the director of graduate studies.  :) :) :) :)

had dinner with Hoosier Guy, his mom and his best friend ... it was a wonderful evening and not nearly as nerve-wracking as I had made it out to be.

had Thanksgiving at Sister and Boy Wonder's house -- 17 people in all.  I was ready for peace and quiet shortly thereafter.

Friday was my contribution to the U.S. economy.  I bought a whole lot of stuff.  :)

Saturday I returned back to Florida, glad to see sunshine and 80 degrees.

Sunday was laundry and hanging out with friends at a beachside bar.  Toes in sand, beer in hand, oh happy days. :) 

Now I'm back to work.  Lots to do, not many hours to do it.

Brought to you live ... from the Megabus!

Today's whirlwind of a trip is to Chicago to visit the University of Illinois-Chicago.  I rode the ICE (Indy Commuter Express) bus down from Carmel this morning with Boy Wonder to downtown.  Then I wandered over to the City Market where I had breakfast with Lu, where we discussed all things in life, including men.

Now I'm on the Megabus. 

For the uninitiated, this is a non-stop bus service from downtown Indy to downtown Chicago that can be booked for as low as $1 one-way.  My trip today was $29, as I had to reschedule yesterday's trip to better accommodate the friends/family visiting schedule and also to fit in a trip to IU. 

The Megabus is a double-decker bus, that has wifi. Yes, dear readers, I am on a bus, rolling down Ohio St. in Downtown Indy, on my laptop, live blogging from the bus.

Bus travel, incidentally, is no different from air travel.  Same level of dumbass-ness is prevalent. 

There are 110v jacks on the bus, so my laptop isn't even without power.  I'm loving this. 

I'll be working on my admissions essays on the bus this morning.  How fab is that???

*************
Yesterday's visit to IU was intimidating.  Each college I've visited has had a different feel.  American was friendly, GWU was impersonal, IU was intimidating.  I am curious what UIC will be.

Reasons for intimidation: 8% acceptance rate of Ph.D. candidates for starters.  Yes, I said eight percent.  And of course that freaks me out.  I mean, really, I'm gonna have to score not just a home run but a grand slam to get in that place and I really think it may be the best fit for me so far.  They could  easily do a policy program with grant effectiveness (which is what I want to study) without much effort at all.

Now to visit UIC.  I wonder what they bring to the table? 

All the schools I've chosen to apply to are all top 20 schools -- my masters came from a top 20 school so I want the same level of Ph.D,.  Sure, I could get in somewhere else but I don't want to -- seems like I should be selective in my program as ultimately I want to teach and it seems that without a good school as my background that may be hard to do.

Onward and upward.  To Chicago I go.

Back Home Again .... In Indiana ...

I returned back to the home state on Saturday.  I've missed it here.

I missed most of the fall leaves, although there are still a few stubborn trees that won't give up. 
I've missed my family -- haven't seen Sister and Boy Wonder since July.
I've missed my friends -- haven't seen most of them since July.

The next few days will be a flurry of activity.  This weekend was pleasant, as it was a whole lotta time with Hoosier Guy, showing him "my" town, and then a lovely afternoon/evening at Sister and Boy Wonder's home, complete with a yummy dinner. 

Today is a trip to my former workplace (Ivy) to visit with friends, then to lunch with some *other* former coworkers from my time at the State, then to Indiana U to visit with the head of the Ph.D. program for my degree field.  The first two options for today -- so excited I could burst.  The third option?  Bursting, not sure if it is excitement or nerves.  :)

Indiana U is tied at #2 in the nation with Harvard for my degree field.  I would love to go there but almost feel it is a long shot.  This will not preclude me from doing the royal suck-up while I am there though ;)

Wish me luck.

Just another day in paradise ...

My workplace gets weirder and weirder by the day.

About six weeks ago, the Executive Vice President walked out.  Yeah, just like it looks -- no notice and lots of upheaval after.  Since that time, the jockeying for power/influence has been overwhelming.*

I try not to play office politics.  I try to just do what I do (and do it well), then attempt to go home at a reasonable hour.  Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn't. 

Either way, I'm outta here by the end of April 2011.  Off to greener (?) pastures ... somewhere ... Chicago, Bloomington, DC, Seattle, Portland ...


* during this blog post, I had two visitors.  One being my "big" boss (the VP) and one being another VP. 

It's My Birthday ...

Okay, so technically today isn't my birthday.  Tomorrow is.  At 1:28 a.m. on November 14, I'll turn 37. 

It has been a most interesting year.

I have traveled extensively.
I have enjoyed my life more.
I have made decisions about my future.
I have met someone who excites me, interests me and makes me laugh*
I am happy. 

It isn't as if I wasn't happy in my 35th year or "happier" in my 36th year, it is just the gradual observations that life is what you make of it and you should try to enjoy every moment.  I've embraced "me" this year in a number of new ways.  Moving to Florida during my 35th year was a test of my endurance -- could I endure being away from family and friends, in a fairly foreign location, to be pummelled by heat, to be attacked by ants, fake people and being alone? 

Being away from friends and family has brought me greater strength and greater longing -- I miss the change of seasons and the smell of burning leaves.  I miss seeing my sister for lunch.  I miss running up to my mom's house for the weekend.  I miss visiting favorite places with my dearest friends.  In turn, I've gained some incredible friends (Mary, Lee, Mary's parents, just to name a few), gained appreciation for a great place to retire (not live), had my blood thinned through excessive heat for months at a time and learned that the Midwest isn't just a destination or a flyover point on the map, it is home to me.

So here's to my 37th year -- to grad school applications, new beginnings and a renewed sense of hope for all things possible.  Cheers!  (clink!!)

*Hoosier Guy: thanks for being you.

Fellow Blogger Welcome Wagon

Well, hello there Gonzo Mama -- thanks for stopping by ye olde blog and joining as one of my followers.

http://www.thegonzomama.com/

If you really want to see one I enjoyed, check this one out:

http://www.thegonzomama.com/2010/10/tricks-of-trade-off.html


The Gonzo Mama is a friend and former classmate at Cottey.  She is Superwoman (in sunglasses), SexyMama (with the 7 kiddos and fab husband), and AwesomeChick (all the time) rolled up into one fancy package.

She also can make you laugh so hard you spit out delicious gin and tonics.  This I know as a fact.

You can catch her in the blogroll -- and please do.

I think my brain is turning to mush.

This love thing -- wow -- I had forgotten how much my brain would turn into mush.

I think of the Hoosier Guy all the time, wondering what he's doing, if he's having fun, what's the next funny story/comment he'll share. 

My working brain -- mush.  Pure mush. 

I am not complaining.  No.  No Freaking Way. 

I'm Observing.

I observe that the Hoosier Guy keeps my mind active and thinking, even when we are apart, based on the conversations we've had the day, night or week before.  We are constantly talking, constantly communicating in such a way I feel like I know him better now than I would have over six months of casual, once-a-week dating. 

I also observe that I'm happy.

:)

Anticipation

Anticipation is one of the sweetest and, alternately, most suffering words in the English language. 

It is the siren song of activities to come, the wishful thinking of future moments, the sweet smile of happiness-to-be.

It is also the waiting, the countless hours "until" ... and calendar-marking.

I anticipate .... so very much.

Go Colts!

Happy Sunday!

Life as I know it.

Let me digress for a moment to discuss my past.  Not something I often think about, as I consider that 'lessons learned' and try, very hard, to move on to happier, newer things.

I've spent an awful (and I do mean awful) amount of time with guys that were terrible for me in one way, shape or another.  Sometimes I knew it right away (and did the drop-kick out the door) and sometimes it was more insidious -- and I didn't know until later, much later, that they were just Not For Me.

I've also been blessed to date some pretty cool guys who remain my friends today.  D9, Jason -- just to name a few -- have been a mixed bag on the dating front, but as friends -- oh hell yeah, I enjoy them.  D9's son Nicholas is a constant source of amusement for me and I've enjoyed seeing him grow up from just a baby to a walking-talking-constantly moving 4 year old machine. 

All this being said, nothing has quite prepared me for Hoosier Guy.

No pedestal, please -- no, he self-describes as a 'regular guy.'  He's witty, sharp, verbally spars with me, makes me laugh and adores his kids.  I find myself saying 'wow' a lot -- not because I don't have words, but because nothing else seems as apt to describe him.  I called him a unicorn last night -- I've heard his kind exists (and seen it, in friends like Sharkfamily's Jay, Tom, PM, MND and the Angel -- just to name a few), but I've never had one of my own.  Now that is a wow for me.

I don't know what the future will bring, but what I do know is that I want him in mine.  Yesterday, just as I was walking into GWU for my meeting, we were talking.  He said the following: "I don't want you to go to the school that is most convenient [for me], but to the best school.  Good luck today." 

So.  Yeah.  Wow.

Someone that doesn't want to hold me back.
Someone that respects the fact that I have friends of all kinds.
Someone that makes me laugh.
Someone that makes his role as a father a main priority in his life.
Someone that verbally spars with me.
Someone that makes my day when he calls.

Yeah.  I'm blessed.  And you can't wipe this smile off my face with a nuclear blast.

Quotables ... because I can't stop laughing.

one, courtesy of Hoosier Guy, on describing a friend's issues with women: "When he smells vagina, his brain melts"

and

two, courtesy of PM and the Angel: PM: 'I heard on NPR that a study was conducted by NPR and Pew Charitable Trust that married men masturbate more than single guys" The Angel responds: "No way, I'm single, and I know better."

bwahahahahahaahahaha

The College Visits (Thus Far)

While I was in DC this week, I made a point to make appointments with both American University and The George Washington University to learn more about their Ph.D. programs in public administration.  I'm trying to visit them (6 schools) all before the application deadline although that doesn't look realistic right now for the Seattle and Portland schools.  Those may be January.

So anyway.

I should state that all six schools are contenders.  All of them are top 30 schools, all of them are within a few ranking points of the other and all of them would be great on a resume.  Really, this is going to come down to "fit" and financial package.  For those of you that aren't aware -- being a Ph.D. student often pays.  Literally.  I could get a fellowship for teaching and/or research that would pay me a stipend as well as give me -tuition free-.  Yes.  So, obviously I am looking hard and doing my best to sort out where I'll go.

First visit was yesterday -- to American U.  I met the advisor for all Ph.D. public affairs programs.  He is staff (not a professor) but truly understands the process and the ways in which the program works.  We had a meeting scheduled for eleven (for an hour) and I was in there the better part of an hour and a half.  We chattered back and forth like magpies, with each moment bringing new and different ideas, thoughts and plans to the table.  Suffice to say, we got along famously and he encouraged me to apply.  He later walked me to a class (that was in session) and asked if I wanted to stick around until the prof had a break.  I said yes, and sat in the hallway listening in to a lecture. 

At the break, I walked into class, introduced myself and the professor was warm, engaging and interested in me being there.  Asked me all sorts of questions, flattered me (they were talking about grants and he said he wished he had me in there as a guest lecturer) and was really open to the notion that I'd email him and learn more.  I left on Cloud 9. 

So.

I should also mention that I made this appointments about 6 weeks ago when I knew I'd be in DC at this time.  I wanted to give a long enough lead time for a good appointment slot and also so I'd have an opportunity to meet with someone one-on-one.

I arrived at my appointment today at GWU and met with not only an advisor, but another potential Ph.D. student.  Yeah.

The advisor hands me a packet of stuff that includes their master's program stuff (I asked her if she wanted it back [because I HAVE the masters in what they offer] and she said, no, this is the general packet we give everyone).  The meeting lasts less than an hour, isn't very engaging or personable (because she has two prospective students to talk to), and basically leaves me with a very sour taste in my mouth for GWU.  She was helpful (in a general way) but wasn't selling the notion of my application (or the other student's application) at all.  I mean, seriously, you have two potential Ph.D. students (who have their master's) and you can't be bothered to organize a freakin' packet of material to exclude the master's stuff.  Lazy.  Fucking Lazy.

I should state at this point that of ALL SIX schools, this is the one that I (of course) have the best contacts.  My mentor knows the head of the frickin' department.  One of my professors this year is an alum.  Oh yeah.  Not Pleased.   Boooo Hiss to GWU. 

So I'm not sure they have made the "apply" list any more.  American -- oh hell yeah.  GWU -- damn it, I'm disappointed in you.

He gets a name.

The Potential Love Interest has been on my radar day and night for weeks -- yes, dear Readers, weeks.  I can't possibly describe it in any other term than: unbelievable.

As all good players in this game I call a blog, he needed a blog name.  Hell, if he was gonna stick around here for more than a few weeks, he ought to get a name -- all the cool kids do.  I asked him if he had any names in mind and he said it would mean more if *I* would pick it.  OH the pressure -- to be creative on a blog name without just popping one off.

I thought of a couple of names which may or may not have worked.  Some were appropos, some were silly, some were just ridiculous.  One, however, made me laugh and is a pun of sorts: Hoosier Guy. 

So, Hoosier Guy, welcome to the bloglist. 

To answer some brief questions from the readership:

1. Yes, he is a Hoosier. 
2. Yes, we have known each other for some time.
3. Yes, he makes me laugh and smile
4. Yes, we've been talking online, offline, phone and text for weeks.
5. Yes, I can't wait to see him again -- and that is soon.

Things I've seen, things I've done ... while in DC

I love D.C. 

Love this city -- enjoy every damn minute I'm here.  I was first here back in 1996 when I was dating a guy that lived here (no need to comment on that, the only good that came of it was the all-access pass I had that week as he worked for a Senator (in the pre-9/11 days) and I went where people certainly aren't allowed to go now).   Seeing the city that first time cemented a love affair that just hasn't stopped.

Each time I'm here I try to see something else, something different. 

This time: National Portrait Gallery, "Old Town Trolley" tour and the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History. 

The National Portrait Gallery is best known for having all the presidential portraits.  Each of these was interesting in its own way -- Clinton's was very art nouveau, Nixon's was very flattering (done by Norman Rockwell) and LBJ's was "legislative" focused, which wasn't out of character for him.  I loved walking through and seeing them all.

The funny part of this was -- well -- to get to the presidential portraits you had to go through a whole series on the human form.  So basically it was nothing but 'penis-land' before seeing the Presidents, which was actually kinda ironic and funny given that: a) the Presidents are all men and b) you'd think with the propensity of many of the Presidents to have a mistress (or many), the nudes would be women. 

Also at the Portrait Gallery, an exhibit on Norman Rockwell -- courtesy of George Lucas and Stephen Spielberg.  Yep, two of the biggest moviemakers ever are also two of the biggest fans of Norman Rockwell.  It was moving -- in fact, it moved me to tears in some -- and gorgeous. 

The Trolley Tour -- I confess to having taken these in Key West and in St. Augustine from the same tour company.  They have actual driver/narrators (rather than taped narration) so each tour is different and unique, with the "basics" being covered by each driver and also liberty allowed for extra facts.  Consequently, some drivers talk a lot, some a little, but either way you get a good dose of "what's what" on the tour.  Worth the money every single time.

The Museum of Natural History has dinosaurs, animals, displays of man evolving, ocean displays, and a gems/minerals display among many other things.

The Hope Diamond.  It's big, sure.  Blue.  Sparkly. Attractively showcased.  However, and this is a big however, I actually enjoyed the rest of the gems/minerals display more.  Those were far more beautiful than the Hope. 

Dinos were cool.
Animals were awesome.
Man-evolving was fascinating.
Ocean display was way cool.

Bitchin' and Moanin'

You, dear Readers, know I travel.  A Lot.  Now there is plenty of fodder for my bitching in traveling but let me tackle one issue which absolutely drives me batshit insane each and every time I travel.

Disembarking the plane.

For some odd reason, despite the change in cabin pressure, despite the wheels hitting the ground and despite the captain ever-so-helpfully announcing the "welcome to (city)," people just can't figure out how to get off a damn plane.

It is the incessant packing up of their shit (in the middle of the freakin' aisle), it is the "helpless" who packed their damn bags but now can't seem to lift them, it is the infirm and elderly who now apparently have a schedule to keep (at 1 mph) and the ones with fourteen kids all with their own personal bags that make me insane.

Rules for flying -- Athena Style.

1. What goes up, must come down.  Take note, fellow passengers, of this handy rule of physics.  If you aren't completely packed up by the time the plane is unloading, feel free to take as much time as the flight attendants will allow - in your particular seat/row.  Do not, under any circumstance, get into the aisle.

2. Packing a "too heavy" or "too cumbersome" bag -- tip #2 involves the use of "checked" luggage and Sherpas.  Spend the freaking $20 and let someone else shlump your crap around for you.  Then, pay for a Sherpa of some sort to haul your crap from the bag claim to wherever.  Just do not, I repeat, do not, pack a too heavy bag and get on the plane expecting others to do your bitchwork.  This is why you tip the skycap, quit being a cheapass.

3. If the infirm and elderly/those with small children get to board first because they "need more time" I get it.  No complaints.  On the other hand, when disembarking the plane, the reverse should hold.  You get on first (because you need more time) you get off last (because you need more time).  Quit moving at the speed of sloth and expect everyone else to deal with it.  Be kind, sit peacefully until the plane is emptied and then get all your bags, your kids fourteen bags and toys and gummy bears and whatever and get off the plane.

4. This rule is universal to many things: just because you can doesn't mean you should.  Just because you "can" take two bags with you as carry-ons and your children can take two bags as carry-ons doesn't mean you should.  Trust.  No child under the age of five wants to carry shit, in fact, they want you to carry them (and all their shit).  So refer to rule #2 and make all of us fellow flyers happier people.

ADDITION: November 2, 2010:

5. This rule shall be henceforth known as the 'Don't monkey it up' rule.  My friend Jay from over at Plays With Sirens states that if you are in the back of the plane, just relax.  You aren't getting off the plane first and as such, there is no sense for you to stand in the aisle "monkeying it up" as he says.  Just relax, sit tight and get up when the three rows ahead of you are beginning to disembark.   Good rule, Jay.  Very good rule.



ADDITION: November 7, 2010:

Official phone-pic of 'monkeying it up' from row 30 of my most recent AirTran flight.  Please note, the plane has just landed and the doors aren't open, yet folks in row 27 think they've got a fightin' shot of mowing down the rest of the plane.  Sheesh.

Thank you.  This public service announcement has been brought to you by a fellow passenger.

Off to DC again ...

A week of road-time awaits me.  Sunday - Saturday in DC.  Plenty of conference activities.  Plenty of cool opportunities. 

A chance to see friends old and new.

An opportunity to check out a couple of schools for the Ph.D. program.

Will see PM while I'm there.  As he says "it's gonna get weird" and as I say "shenanigans." 

Updates later.  I arrive there at 2 p.m. tomorrow.

****
a sidebar -- the potential love interest just keeps getting more interesting.  :) 

After our "deep dark" discussion of the other night, I really did feel a burden lift from me.  You've gotta understand, dear Readers, that I, like many, have dated the Hit Parade of Jackasses over the years.  Lots of Judgemental Fucks, with plenty of opinions on 'how things should be' or 'expectations' from me.  I am who I am and after getting kicked in the ass about a million times over mistakes I've made (as if Judgemental Fucks never made any -- but I digress), I've been more than hesitant to lay my soul bare.  His abject acceptance of my mistakes was and is a wonderous, splendid thing. 

As if he weren't attractive to me to begin with -- he adds compassion and acceptance. 

 "If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever."


--Alfred Lord Tennyson

The darkest reaches of your soul -- bared to another

I'm not perfect.

There.  I said it.

Not that I've ever claimed to be perfect but somehow, someway, we all get put on a pedestal by someone at some time.  I'm just your average mid-30s divorced chick with some stuff in my past I'd rather not examine too closely anymore -- let alone share it with someone.

It's not that I haven't thought about those things.  Been in therapy for them, in fact.  I just don't want to relive the sickening moments where I let myself down.  Having someone else judge me is one thing, judging myself -- oh yeah, that voice just doesn't know when to STFU.

I've forgiven myself for the mistakes I've made and have shut the door on them, with renewed hope and ferverent interest that I never, ever repeat those moments again. 

So there is a potential love interest out there (yes, dear Readers, I've been holding out on you and no he isn't a matter for public discussion at the moment), and I wanted to come clean with my mistakes, so as to "start fresh" as it were.  We talked last night and I told him the story.

His response: "That's in the past, stop beating yourself up about it. We all make mistakes." 

Wow. 

I felt accepted as I am, mistakes and all.  I can't possibly describe to you the relief I felt -- it was as if that 'blanket of worry and doubt' had been lifted and replaced by pure, unadulterated sunshine and hope.

I feel light today -- and have a smile on my face that just won't come off. 

Updates ...

Update to my post from 10/19 -- no email this year.  First time in five years.  I hope that he has found happiness.  A friend (thanks PM) sent me this on that day and I thought I'd share it.

"I read your blog this morning and want to respond with borrowed words from John O ‘Donohue (I think we are related thru some clan inbreeding):

Try as best you can, not to let

The wire brush of doubt

Scrape from your heart

All sense of yourself

And your hesitant light.



If you remain generous,

Time will come good;

And you will find your feet

Again on fresh pastures of promise,

Where the air will be kind

And blushed with beginning.


You better be trying your weird on. DC in less than 2 weeks!"

Yeah, PM, you made my day with that -- thanks friend.  You rock.  See ya in DC next week.  I've done my part to prepare the city for our arrival :) Dubliner -- Be Warned!
 
***************************
The food at Farmer's Market was as good as I'd remembered.  Their coconut cream pie rocks ... ate half yesterday and finished the rest for breakfast.  Yeah, breakfast ... coconut is a fruit, right?  cream is milk?  crust is bread?  see where I'm going with this ...
 
***************************
Working on a project for work (grant database) and essays for grad school.  Add in a stats mid-term and you've got a pretty good handle on why I need to behave myself this week.  *sigh*
 
***************************
Yesterday was a rough work day -- had to lock myself in my office to avoid displaying 'career limiting behaviors' -- probably a good move on my part. 6 months.  6. Freaking. Months.
 

Food has taken a backseat for awhile

Fort Myers isn't what I'd call a foodie paradise.  It is a tourist town (really) and, as such, the city's restaurants are mostly chains.  Sure, I've found some locally-owned places (and I patronize them). 

One of them is dear to my heart:  The Farmer's Market.

http://www.farmersmarketrestaurant.com/

Locally owned, it showcases the best of Southern home cooking.  You might think growing up in NW Indiana I wouldn't have been exposed to Southern cooking, but trust, my dad's mom was one to use a pressure cooker, bacon and slow-roasted on a plethora of dishes at the dinner table (she grew up in southern Indiana).  In Indy, I'd satisfy the craving with a run to Country Kitchen, located at 19th & College.  I *loved* the Country Kitchen, even if I was (really) the only white girl in there.  Oh man, just thinking about their meatloaf makes me happy.

So, the Farmer's Market.

I had heard about it when I moved here but a co-worker of mine (a FM native) had told me it was "in a bad part of town and don't go there alone."  Trust me when I say that I've been in bad parts of towns before (driving home from downtown to my little house in Irvington with the sound of gunshots as background noise sticks in my head), and This Isn't A Bad Part Of Town.  I mean, I guess for Fort Myers standards (perfection), it is, but truly it looks like what it is: a run-down part of town that doesn't get the beautification $$ because it isn't on the way to the beaches or other tourist haunts. 

I'm going there today with some friends.  I've not eaten breakfast and it is likely that after this food-fest, I'm not gonna want dinner.  I know for a fact that I will order coconut cream pie (to go) as my dessert.  As for lunch options, I've already scanned the menu (there are daily specials) and I may have made a decision but I'm not sure yet. 

In any case, I can't wait.  :)

Upcoming events/life as I know it.

Next week I'm in DC all week, learning grant stuff for my college.  I'm excited to go, excited to be in DC (of course) and I'll even manage to squeeze in a little campus visit time while I'm at it. 

I need to finish my essays for grad school.  I'm dragging my feet.

I need to schedule my trip to WA/OR to visit U of WA and PSU.  I'm thinking January and that is looking good right now.

I'm tired ... up too late texting back and forth with a friend. 

6 months left here ... wow.

Some things are best left as they are

This week I had another houseguest.  Yep, I bet you are wondering if I am running a B&B.  The answer is, no, not yet, and no planned houseguests until after the New Year at this point. That is a good thing since I'm needing some "me" time and have to work to get this house in order to move to >>> God Only Knows Where.

My houseguest this week was Jason.  You might remember Jason, as he was featured in my blog from about September '08 - July '09, as we were dating.  I ended our relationship after I moved here (and he had no intention of doing so) and I wasn't moving back anytime soon, if ever.  I do, however, tend to maintain friendships with guys I've dated, granted they do not display psycho tendencies.  He doesn't, so we've remained friends.

When he came to visit me last year over 4th of July weekend, his flight was cancelled on one leg of the trip.  AirTran was apologetic to the tune of one free round-trip ticket, hence his need to use it and hence his return here. 

He and I were talking in June about this ticket and how it was to expire in early July if he did not book something and he asked if he could come down for a few days in October.  As we have been friends all this time, I said yes and the tickets were booked.  He came down this past Wed and left yesterday.

He was the person I have dated the longest since my divorce.  We have a lot in common but there are definite differences too -- just enough to keep things interesting.  He's a great guy and I hope he finds happiness with someone lovely, but that someone lovely won't be me.

It isn't that he is annoying.  It isn't that he gets on my nerves.  It isn't that he's a jerk.  It isn't that he behaves like he was raised by wolves.  No, it is none of that. He isn't, he doesn't, he isn't and he wasn't. 

It is something else.  That indescribable spark that says there is something THERE and that I ought to figure out what that means EXACTLY.  He had my interest and I cared for him deeply but that indescribable spark -- looking back, I can see it wasn't there.

We had a great time this week -- did some driving range time, ate good food, took an airboat ride through the Everglades -- a whole hell of a lot packed into essentially 3 days.  He is and remains a great guy.  Just some things are best left as they are.

Some days are harder than others ...

Today's a hard day for me.  8 years ago today I married the Hex.  I thought I was getting married forever, thought we'd have kids, thought we'd grow old together.  For a plethora of reasons (and of at least half that are my fault), it wasn't to be. 

Each year since we've divorced (5 years this year), I get an email from him, telling me he misses me.  Each year that I've read it, I've gone home and gone to bed immediately -- wallowing in my own grief of what wasn't-meant-to-be. 

In case you don't know -- there is no such thing as a "no-fault" divorce.  Hours of wrestling with torn emotions, rivers of tears and a million "if only I had ..." all play a part in the mourning of a marriage gone south.  I can tell you that after my parents' divorce, I swore I'd never get married.  Then when I got married I swore I'd never get divorced.  Now I just don't swear anything at all --

I talked to my sister today and she told me she was thinking of me, that she knew it was a hard day.  She's right, it is a hard day.  Every year it gets easier, but I don't know when it will just be another mid-October day, without me thinking of all the promises held on that cool October morning.

It is days like today that I wonder if I'll ever get married again. I'd like to ... but ... and there is always a "but."

but ... I don't want to get hurt like I did again (that's not possible to prevent)
but ... I may never find him (or maybe I will)
but ... I'm happy (yes, I am ... but I want someone to enjoy my life with)
but ... I've dated so many jerks (no argument there ... but I've dated good guys too)
but ... what?  what is holding me back?

As part of my healing process this year, I'm not reading my personal e-mail today.  I don't want to wallow over what-wasn't-meant-to-be but think only about what joy and happiness awaits me ...

Alma Mater

I was back at my Alma Mater this weekend -- I'm on the Alumnae Association Executive Board and one of the twice-yearly meetings happened.

A couple of things -- and forgive me if I brain dump, but I was up until 2:30, then slept until 4:30 and have been up since.  Athena + No Sleep = Confused, Befuddled Woman

1. apparently the answer to all questions is "class agents."  It was interesting to note how a program that was started to engage alumnae has now morphed into a whole new deal. 

2. 2 days in board meetings (on two of the most beautiful Missouri days ever) made me crazy.  All I wanted was to go outside.

3. Seeing friends was an extra-special part of this weekend and I could just about weep over it right now.  Mind you, I'm tired and easily prone to fits of tears at this point, but really, thinking about the fact that I spent *one* year with these women and within a few short minutes, we were back again as close as ever astounds me.  What an incredible college -- and that is why I'm so proud to serve.

4. I bought the cookbooks -- my college was known for the food and a big reason for that was the 5 star chef in charge of the menu. 

5. I was both encouraged and discouraged by this weekend.  I'm not sure which I feel more, which concerns me.

More later as my thoughts gel and I have more than two hours of sleep.

On the road again ...

It's true.  I'm traveling again this week.

My life is just some kind of crazy.

Some things to think about ...that have been buzzing around my head, might as well buzz around yours:

*Life is short.  Eat well, drink well, love well.
*Be happy with what you have but always seek to make it better. 
*Sleep is never overrated.
*Laughing at yourself can provide endless hours of humor.
*Reading is one of my greatest pleasures. 

DC adventures ...

I was in and out of DC in what amounted to a little more than 27 hours.  You'd think that would not leave me much time for mischief and mayhem, but then you probably don't know me that well.  The people that do ... well, they know better.

In 27 hours I managed to:

*Ride the Metro to and from the airport
*Get a good workout in at the Omni Shoreham hotel (love this place)
*Attend two separate conference sessions
*Wander thru Dupont Circle
*Visit with a friend from Cottey and her husband
*Crash a National Board of Realtors function
*Eat some really great mediterranian food (hummus, tabouli, baklava)
*Grab a beer at the airport
*Eat a Potbelly sandwich (mmmm)
*Drink some Bombay Sapphire and tonic(s)
*Sleep
*Meet Lynda Bird Johnson (yeah, she is who you think she is -- and very nice)
*Enjoy the gorgeous fall weather

I'll be back there the first part of November for another conference.  I have seven days there then -- and I'll be visiting George Washington U and American U while I'm there to decide whether they are where I want to go -- or not.

Some days you are the windshield,

some days you are the bug.

How appropos.

I've been driving a fair bit lately and, well, it is love bug season here in Florida.  What does that mean, you ask?  My windshield looks like a teenager's face -- and so does my car.

So I take the car to a carwash here.  It has been recommended numerous times to me as the best around.  Hell, they *won* best-of awards.

My car is dirty.  Covered in a whole lot of dead love-bugs.   I pull up, pay my $20 (oh yeah, $20, which is why the following FRIED MY ASS), and let them do what they do.

Car wash*
interior vacuum
windows cleaned*
underbody clean
tire shine
hot wax
hand dried

I don't like paying $20 but that is the going rate here for a decent place with all of the above.  I take myself inside, pay the cashier and wait for my car to pull out. 

The car is dried, I tip the guys and off I go, across the street from the carwash to a furniture store.  When I get out of my car I discover two things:

1.  There are still splotches of dead bugs all over the front of my car
2.  There is still bird "do" on my passenger rear window.

Now I am STONE COLD pissed off.  I mean, dude, seriously.  First, $20 and second, it is hand dried meaning you would think someone, anyone, that does that notices that my car still has bugs on it and bird crap. 

I return to the car wash.

You'd think that in these times of economic crisis and a $20 car wash easily being a luxury item, I would hear apology.  I would hear "I'm sorry, let us run this through the car wash again for you, I'm sorry for your inconvenience."

Nope.  Nada. 

What did I hear?

"These bugs stains can etch the paint and it is likely we won't be able to get them off" and "Oh, yeah, I guess we could have gotten that off your window"

First, let's be real.  It's not that my car was any freaking cleaner when I first pulled up.  It had the same bugs on it.  Could I not hear that love bug "juice" is hard to get off a car when I pull up? 

Second, I don't want nonsense when it is clear you didn't do your job.  The bird shit?  I mean, really.

So, Bonita Bubbles, you've lost a customer.  I won't be back.  And I will tell everyone I know that you don't have one iota of customer service no matter how freaking expensive your carwash may be.

This Glass House Owns A Few Stones

Okay, I love Facebook.  I especially love it when people post pictures from the past.  Old high school photos (oh yeah, there's a few of me out there) are generally a screaming riot.  Early 90s fashion is an oxymoron if there ever was one. 

A friend of mine from HS recently posted some pictures of himself in high school.  There was one in particular that I absolutely howled over.

Stonewashed overalls.  Mock turtleneck.  Porn star 'stache.  Mullet. 

Oh yes, all in the same picture.

I laughed until I cried.  Then I laughed some more. 

No, no, not at his outfit.

I actually went out on a date or two with this guy while he was dressing like this.

God Knows I Don't Want To Think About What I Was Wearing Then.

glass house.

***************

In a side note, I was laughing so hard my coworkers had to see what I was laughing at.  Quote of the day:

"he's married to a man, right?"

and then I laughed harder.

What is done is done

I took my GREs again today. 

I took them back in March, scored an "okay" score, but wanted better.  So I prepped.  I read.  I did flashcards.  I learned formulas and such that I haven't had use for since tenth grade. 

My score was higher today. 

Not quite where I wanted it to be.  Of course, I'm a total nerd for this stuff -- want as high as possible.  The score, well, it is passable.  Add some good letters of recommendation and I should be in good shape. 

Now I have to focus on my personal essay -- a listing of why and what I want to do with my life. Where I've been, where I want to go, how I'm gonna get there.

Back to the basics, folks, back to the basics.

Of Death ... and Life

This morning I woke up with a start -- I woke up a little after seven, moving over in my sleep to make room for an ambulance.  I was dreaming that I was driving and I could see an ambulance in my rearview mirror -- I woke up as a "scooted over" to allow the ambulance to pass.  It was then I knew that my friend J's mom had passed.

10 weeks ago she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer -- and it is now three weeks before her first granddaughter is due.  Yes, to add misery to her mom's loss, my friend J is 9 months pregnant.

I say prayers for J tonight -- and her family.  May peace be with her mother.

My day started with death.

It ended with life.

I found out tonight that a dear friend and her husband are expecting.  It is early in the pregnancy and I'm not allowed to announce it, but suffice to say I started and ended my day with tears.  May she and her husband have a safe, healthy and happy pregnancy and a healthy baby.

Of death.
Of life.

Questions that never cease to amaze me.

I'm wearing this truly gorgeous dress today at work (black), coupled with some hottie red sandals.  I picked out the perfect undie/bra combo to make me feel super sexy.  I always check myself out before leaving and I looked fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnne.  I was feelin' it, as it were.

Until about 20 minutes ago.

I walk into the restroom and catch sight of my behind.

I notice my underwear.

And Not One Person Has Told Me My Undies Are Showing ALL DAY.  Not just that, but HOW, in the course of a few short hours, have my underwear gone from NOT SHOWING to a big flashy neon SHOWING, LOOKY HERE AT HER THONG, showy?

So what's an enterprising chica to do?

Go Panty Free.

I'm calling it "Going Free Range" as "commando" feels a little boy-ish and "free ballin'" doesn't exactly work for my ladyparts.

*************
Special thanks to Jay at Plays With Sirens for calling me during the panty crisis and offering up options on what to call my panty-free self.

Pardon me, do I look older?

Working at and for a college has many perks but possibly the best perk are the students.  Students?  Why yes -- it is endlessly fascinating to see them grow and learn, not to mention the conversations overheard in any one walk down the sidewalk. 

I *might* be just a titch more hip because I work at a college. 

Today, though, was not that day.

I was walking to a meeting when I happen to overhear a conversation between a couple of students.  One is telling the other all about her mom's birthday party this past weekend.  Her mom's 36th birthday party. 

Dear readers, I turn 37 in two months. 

So tell me, are the gray hairs showing?  Miss Clairol, where are you????

******************************************

In other news, I have scheduled my visits for American University (DC), The George Washington University (DC) and University of Illinois -- Chicago to visit campuses and learn about their Ph.D. programs.  I will be submitting my applications in November  -- and my GRE is in two weeks.  Pray for me.

Statistics Homework (or how I have lost my fucking mind)

Clearly I must be touched.  No, you pervs, not THAT kind of touched although taking a moment to think about that, mmmmmmm.  

Yes, I'm touched. I'm taking a stats class right now that likely I will have to take another of when I go to get my Ph.D.  Have I mentioned I hate stats?  Hate?  Hate with the white hot fury of a thousand and one suns? 

There is one small light in the tunnel -- tonight's lab assignment involves me eating M&Ms.  Yep.  True story.  It is all about probability (color) and if I have to eat M&Ms to get the assignment right, I will.

I'm a giver like that.

Where were you ...

when the world stopped turning? 

I was at a new job at CIC Enterprises on the north side of Indianapolis.  I took the job two months prior and was busily finding tax credits for my corporate clients that morning.  I was listening to 92.3 WTTS and I will never forget Todd Berryman, the morning DJ, announcing that there was something on the news wire he could not believe -- that a plane had hit one of the towers.  Then a moment later, he reacted on the radio as he heard of the second tower being hit.  My office found an old tv and got it turned on, and listened to the broadcasts all day.  Later that day, my boyfriend's sister in law (who would be my sister in law 14 months later) called to invite me to dinner and prayer.  I gratefully accepted.

I remember praying in hopes that someone, anyone, many someones would be found alive. 

Today I say prayers for their souls and their families.

I watched MSNBC this morning as it replayed the broadcast from 9/11/01.  As the first tower fell, I cried anew.  Tonight I've watched the History Channel, with their documentary '102 Minutes.'  102 Minutes shows 9/11 from a strictly NYC point of view, as taken from the many personal cameras and videocameras people had with them that day.  Watching the beginning of it, I just wanted to shout at those who ran toward the towers to run the other way, save themselves.  I know as sure as I know myownself that in this documentary are first responders of every stripe that did not make it out alive. 

I know first responders.  My buddy Jay at Plays With Sirens is a captain, fireman and EMT extraordinaire.  While I would never suggest he doesn't do his job (as Jay without that job is like Jay without air), but I do pray for him and his compatriots each day. 

I'm not terribly religious -- but I also think that thinking positive thoughts and sending out positive vibes into the universe never hurt anyone. 

************
So nine years ago tonight I was having dinner with a family -- my boyfriend, his brother, his sister in law, their two kids and his mother and father. 

Tonight I had dinner with my Florida family -- Mary, Lee, the kiddos and Mary's mom & dad. 

Tonight, like that night nine years ago, I said prayers aloud and prayers silently. 

I pray, as always, for peace. 

Reading a lot these days

I've been doing my usual: something heavy, something fluffy and back again.  Last night was a fluffy night and I read "Plain Truth" by Jodie Picoult. 

Alright, not entirely fluffy as it dealt with infanticide at an Amish farm in Pennsylvania. 

Anyhoo, I stayed up far too late, finished the book and then lay awake thinking of that line in the book that *got* me -- you know, the one you wish you wrote, the one line that says it all.  In this book, the line was about finding that "one" person that time stands still when you are with them.

I can remember only one moment like that in my life.  It stands out because it was as though we were the only people in the room, although we were surrounded by classmates, our professor and some pretty quizzical looks when it was all over.

He was a guy I'd had a crush on forever ... never followed through on that one, always the wrong time, as he and I were always involved with someone else when the other was free. 

It was an ordinary fall afternoon, we were taking the same political science class.  For some reason, the prof asked us all to pair off and dance for a minute ... for the life of me I cannot remember why.  There was music, there was dancing and then the music was over, and we were still looking at each other and talking, lost in our own world.  I remember the professor asking us if we were through, and my blush taking over my whole body, let alone my face.

The earth literally stopped moving that day, that hour, that moment.*

He's married now.  Looks like he's happy -- and I'm glad for him.  He deserves happy.

I just wonder if the earth stopped moving for him that day too.


*there are times, like now, that I wonder if that moment will ever come to pass for me again.  I was 21, going on 22.  I'm approaching 37 now.  Fifteen years and I still think about that moment.  I've never had another moment like that since.  Will I find another that will stop time for me?  Will I find another that I want to stop time for? 

ready to go.

It is Thursday, 2:47 p.m., before the Labor Day weekend.  I do not need to say this out loud, but it is apparent: I want a few days off.

I'm not off tomorrow.  I should have, but didn't.  Dumb.

I am off Monday. 

My family has driven me insane these last few weeks since returning from Ireland.  Generally there is a low-level of insanity going on, much like there is always a current in every calm lake. 

I want to go somewhere where my phone doesn't work.

The internet doesn't work.

The county sheriff has to track me down if absolutely necessary.

So I'm heading there, this weekend. 

Away, with some friends, to a small little island in the 10,000 islands of SW Florida.  There will be foods grilled, stories told, beverages of all sorts consumed and fish stalked.  It will be glorious. 

I will nap.  I will cook.  I will study for my GRE.  I will fish.  I will drink copious amounts of adult beverages. 

I will not answer the phone (it doesn't work there).  I will not answer email (there is no internet there).  I will not be in contact with anyone other than my hosts (because I don't have to).

Neener neener.

Back in school

I'm back in school.  Busy as can be with that, plus prepping to take the GRE again at the end of September.  

Family drama seems to have died down a bit.  Still insane.

So I'm heading to a friend's "camp" house this weekend.  No cell phone coverage, no internet availability. Did I mention I'm excited?

For someone who avoids drama ...

Lord have mercy, there has been a ton of it in my life lately.

Mostly it is family drama, none of which I feel I can elaborate on yet.  When I can, it will be a doozy of a post and I'll just recommend now that you sit down, pop open an adult beverage or several, and read.  Trust, the story will get told, just not today, as the story is "developing" as the news always says. 

I started classes this past week -- Data Analysis in Public Systems and Public Administration in a Political Environment.  Neither one are required for my Ph.D., per se, but both will be immensely helpful as I get back into the swing of studying, learning and contributing.  Both are online -- which I like -- but also the first classes I've ever taken online.  *hitches up pants* Back in MY day, you had to go to class, yep, trudge all the way in, sometimes TWICE a week and actually meet with your classmates in person ...

Making plans to return to Indiana over Thanksgiving.  See the fam, see friends, hang out. 

Family.  Kinda makes me understand this guy's business.

Overheard on Campus

Have you ever read the blogs "Overheard in ____?"  If not, check 'em out.  I'll wait.


Oh, goodie, you are back.

I was walking on campus today when I heard the following exchange between two young women about a young man they had met:

Girl 1: Yeah I want an LL Bean backpack, I heard they last forever.

Girl 2: Me too. 

Girl 2: So I met this guy the other day ... and he had a Buzz Lightyear backpack.

Girl 1: Uh huh (snorted incredulously)

Girl 2: And I was like, dude, you are a 25 year old man, what woman would date you with that backpack?

Girls 1 & 2: *snorting laughter*

***************************

And so here is a rule for all you young men returning to campus.  No woman thinks you are cute wearing your Buzz Lightyear backpack.  Likely they think you: a) stole it from your much-younger brother, b) got it from your Mom in 3rd grade and can't bear to break her heart about not using it now, or c) are a pedophile and not to be trusted.    Please note: not one of these options say "date me now."

I return to school and get pissed off.

Let me say this -- IU was by no means perfect in its policies and procedures but compared to the overall cluster-fuck of Florida Gulf Coast University, it was a slice of heaven.

Point 1: "College" employees are not considered state employees while "University" employees are considered state employees.  Please explain to me the difference as we both receive the majority of our funding from the State.

Point 2: Until 4:30 on Friday evening, I was unaware that I had to shell out nearly 2K for school by the next Friday.  Yeah.  Let me know how that fits into YOUR budget.  Needless to say, I'm pulling funds out of my 401K.

Point 3: I cannot receive financial aid.  While I understand why, this sure would have been nice to know, say MONTHS ago.

Point 4: Three trips to FGCU and I didn't know point 1-3 until Friday.


************

Repeating over and over "you are applying to good schools for fall 2011, eyes on the prize"

I have a feeling I will be found on a city streetcorner with a paper cup mumbling this phrase over and over while begging for change. 

Damn.

Ireland

Suffice to say I didn't hit all the high points in my last post about Ireland.  You, dear reader, should know I learned a new language on vacation, or, rather, a few new words on vacation.  On Monday, as I wheeled my luggage approximately 20 blocks to a bus stop (no joke), I was lumbering along and this woman (dressed a touch a la homeless) steps in front of me, backing up, towards a bus across the street.  I go around her (because she is officially In The Way Of My Progress) and my reward was to be called a fouking khunt. 

Fouking khunt.  Yep.  There's some new vocab words for ya kids.

Also on the trip -- driving.

While I didn't drive in Dublin, I did drive FROM Dublin on Wednesday as we headed out to Cashel, home of the Rock of Cashel, a rather famous castle.  The Rock is where Brian Boru was crowned king of Ireland kind-of famous.

To describe driving in Ireland as anything less than a video game would be to give it a disservice.  It seemed like "Frogger" the early Atari-edition, as it seemed that I was the Frog and every few hundred yards another object would require me to go around.  Dogs, old men walking, children on bikes, old women on bikes, old men carrying packages, mopeds, motorcycles passing in and out of traffic, cars careening to a stop on cross-roads, you name it, I maneuvered around it.  Add driving on the left, shifting with my left hand (oh yes, it was a stick-shift) and my inherent fear that eminent death was coming and you get one hell of a combination. 

So we get to Cashel.  Apparently in Cashel, addresses are not what you and I know them as.  Our bed and breakfast address was simply put as "The Rock, Cashel."  I might also tell you that every-fucking-thing in that town was Rock-SomethingorAnother, at least as far as B&Bs go.  After making a wrong turn, confusing another carload of tourists (who, stupidly enough, followed my make-your-own-detour route), and turning into the Rock of Cashel's "parking" lot, I had reached the upper limits of my patience. 

"Parking" in Ireland can be roughly described as "put your car in park just any old place, no, no, don't bother with lined spaces, just STOP THE CAR AND GET OUT." So entering the Rock of Cashel's parking lot was similar to a clusterfuck on a grand scale.  Now picture every single person in one of those aforementioned parked cars wandering around like they've never been out of the mental hospital before. 

Then I discover that we have to pay 4 euro to get out of this Godforesaken hell of a Parking Lot and I blow the first of a few gaskets.  I shout at Angela to find the euro and then I tell her I am pulling over and "see that man there, that guy sweeping?  Go ask him where in the HELL we are supposed to be!!!" 

Angela talks to the man, who directs her to another man, one driving a streetsweeper.  As she and he approach the vehicle, I am absolutely boiling over with rage at the utter clusterfuck of humanity that has now surrounded the car.  Add a few people honking their horns behind us (although I am pulled over and not in the way) and you can imagine I was ready to kill.

Angela opens the car door and is greeted with my rage.  "FUCKING FUCKERS WON'T GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY!!!," I shout.  She looks at me rather incredulously and tells me to calm down.  Meanwhile, the street sweeper guy tells us to "follow the yellow lorry" as he has deduced that telling me directions at this point is fruitless.  Smart man.

Angela gets in the car, basically starts laughing at me and then, THEN, our little car decides it wants to die. 

I gun the engine. 

Just as a little old lady steps in front of the car.

She leaps a mile, her husband looks at me and smiles/laughs and soon we are on our way, following the yellow lorry, escaping from the hell that is the Rock of Cashel parking lot.

Needless to say, the Guinness never tasted so good.

(International Incident Avoided, BARELY)

St. FUBAR is my friend.

Alright, so it is Saint Finbar, but truly, when things have been going this right, who is to complain?

A checklist for now (to satisfy your curiosity) then more detail later:

* cute Irish men (check)
* delicious Guinness (check)
* Dublin touristy shit (check)
* Castles, castles, castles (check)
* creepy B&B owners (check)
* sleep (check)
* old shit? (check)
* ancient shit? (check)
* ferry ride (check)
* bicycle rental (check)
* sore ass? (check)
* cute Irish boy to work that sore ass out (no check -- sigh)

Nothing more to detail now, too many Guinness, too many flirty Irish men and am ready for bed (alone) ... more later.  love to all. 

The Words of Another Speak To Me.

Read a friend's blog today -- and it spoke to me.  Not in a whisper, but in a shout, from which I am just beginning to recover.

The blog isn't on the bloglist, as he prefers his privacy (and I can't blame him) but My Oh My, I wish I could share his words with the world.  I'll steal a passage for you (you'll forgive me, dear author. Right?  right?) so you know what is is that spoke to me so eloquently.

"Or, for example, if you are my rednecked Welfare-scamming relatives and you drive a gleaming wheeled phallus of a bitchin’ Camaro, with chrome shit sticking out of the hood, and the catalytic convertor cut off – because it’s too much trouble to repeat yourself to everyone you meet: “Hi, I’m a douchebag. Hi, I’m a douchebag. Hi, I’m an asshat, and my name is…” well, that sweet-ass ride needs 102 octane fuel. 102 octane fuel, as every crank yankin’ boy-racer who never really left high school could readily tell you, is “Racin’ Gas.” Racing Gas is fabulously expensive. Who can afford crap that is Fabulously Expensive? Only those in The Big Time. Those who are just a little superior to the rest of us. Those who, even at the tender age of 40 (yeah, forty!) have never needed to get real jobs, because their mommies subsidize their flashily idiotic lifestyles, their multiple wives (and the wives’ legal issues, to boot), all the toys they need to paste shiny High Roller veneers of success over a pasty, slimy, reality pocked and besmottred with alcoholism, mental illness, unresolved Oedipal complexes, and (that’s right-fuck you!) double-digit IQs."

Now if you are like me and have relatives like this, it hits home.  Like smack-between-the-eyes home.  Unrelenting truth about relatives that I try to avoid thinking about.  It is these very relatives (of mine, mind you) that keep me pushing, pushing, PUSHING for more in my own life.  I don't want to settle for a life of dedicated ignorance, criminal activity and one-channel-news-only when the whole big world out there is asking me to explore it. 

Maybe that's my bias. In fact, I know that is my bias. I wear that with a badge of honor much like I wore my Girl Scout sash so long ago -- with a mixture of pride and nerdiness, wrapped in the mantle of personal responsibility.  I am dedicated to learning more, doing more, exploring more, thinking more ... and trying to fit the whole big world into what makes me, well, me.

What makes me, me?  A few things that come to mind, perhaps you, dear reader, could add to it.

*unrelenting sarcasm
*a belief that I can positively impact the world through my existence
*there will never be enough hours for me to read all the books I want to read
*believe that homosexuals should be afforded the same rights in marriage/property/estates as hetrosexuals.
*napping as an art form
*art perplexes me, but I remain endlessly fascinated by it
*willingness to sing in the shower or in the car -- but only alone. 
*that being called a 'nerd' has positively impacted my life more than ever being called 'beautiful'
*an understanding that I am not the least bit perfect and nor do I strive to be.  In Anything.
*pedicures and massages
*trying to find the bright side, even when it all seems so hopelessly dim.
*travel -- new places, new people, alternative lives.
* ?

One Week To Ireland ... and 15 Minutes Left of Sanity

At this time next week, I'll be arriving in Chicago for the flight to Ireland.  I think it finally hit me this weekend, I am going to Ireland and I am going there pretty darn soon.  Wowzers.

Not much to report.  I'm exhausted and more exhausted.  Could seriously nap under my desk right now.  Might even consider it if I thought I could do it without talking in my sleep.  Perhaps I need to turn on the radio on the computer?

The grant is coming along.  Everyone's sections are due again at 5 p.m. today.  Want this over with.

Editing in my sleep

Yes, dear readers, I'm awake.  It is 3:50 a.m. and I have been awake over an hour after waking from editing in my sleep.  No, it is not enough that I edit while I am awake, apparently my brain feels it must allocate precious sleeping hours to the task as well.

An update on the Title III -- it is now in one document, readable and sent to my fellow co-authors for revisions.  All revisions are due by 5:00 p.m. today (Saturday) and then I take all their thoughts, revisions, edits and comments, combine them into one document and return it to Linga for one last go-round.  After that it goes to my former boss for her reading pleasure (or not).  On Monday morning at 8:00, I find out whether this document will truly be turned in on Thursday. 

Honestly, it is 90% there.  It has taken blood, sweat and tears to get it there.  I worked all day yesterday getting it into an order and format that seemed to make the most sense.  There are only 50 pages to explain exactly what we will do, how we will do it, timeframe, how we knew what to do, who is in charge, who else is in charge, what money we need, why we need that amount of money and a bibliography of all sources for our document.

Believe it or not, we stand at 44 pages currently.

So although there is nothing for me to do now, my mind thinks otherwise.  Am Not Pleased.

********************
In other news around the nation, I've had a houseguest for a few days.  B, a coworker from my previous life, needed a place to stay while she was in FM.  She had other plans initially but for a plethora of reasons that aren't mine to share, she's stayed with me a few days.  I think she has had fun -- from my end, it has been nice to have someone to talk to at the end of each day.  Unfortunately, this was probably the worst week out of any week that I have had in the past year to have houseguests, what with all this grant writing madness going on.

Last night we went to a 50th birthday party for a friend of mine at a local establishment.  I am pretty sure this bar hasn't had that many people in it for many a year -- it was a madhouse and crazy busy.  A tiny place with a nice porch, it was good to have the overflow room.  Now that I think about it, it was probably a fire hazard but we had fun.

As for the kittens, they haven't seen much of me lately.  As I type here on the couch, Cleo sleeps next to me, just glad I am home.  A friend of mine lost her kitty, Harvey, this week.  He was probably 15 or so, but I knew Harvey and it saddens me he is gone.  Here's to hoping Harvey has lots of tuna in kitty-heaven.

I found out last week that a friend (34) has Stage II breast cancer and another friend's mother has Stage IV liver, pancreatic and bone cancer.  Adding to the tragedy (as if THAT weren't enough), this same friend whose Mom has cancer is 7 months pregnant with her first baby.  I don't know how many of my readers are those that pray, but please join me in sending prayers/good wishes/happy thoughts each of these women.  They are in my heart and prayers each morning and each night. 

I don't drink nearly enough.

On my approximately 50th meeting this week (no kidding), I said to my compatriots: "I don't drink enough at night for this."  Both of them busted out laughing and agreed with me.

Still working on Title III, or Title 111 as Linga likes to call it.

My life sucks. 

One week, one day until vacation.  One week until this motherfucker is turned in and done. 

Hate.My.Life.Now.

Ireland?  Where are you friend?  Show me your cute red-headed Irish boys.  Pour me a Guinness.  No, make that two.  Better yet, back it with a Jameson.  Yes, yes, that is beginning to sound better.

Tired.
Crabbypants.
Irritable.
Me.

Sidewalk Living

So I'm no longer under the bus, but I'm sure not driving it and barely a passenger.

Some observations after the weekend (and cleaning my bedroom in a pissed-off frenzy):

1. Linga cannot type Roman numerals.  No, no, not kidding.  For Title III, she put Title 111.   p.s. she has a doctorate. 

2. Being Linga's peon has its advantages.  She likes to have someone make copies for her.  I, as her peon, get that privilege.  I have never made this much money and made copies for someone.  I think I have died and gone to heaven.

3. This week, in each of the morning meetings, I will listen and take notes on what I need to do, but barely open my mouth.  If Linga is going to be in charge, she can be in charge. 

4. I now have plenty of time to work on my grad school applications.  Go me!


I'm taking this whole change in stride -- perhaps this is the sign I needed to slow my life down.  I'm taking it.

**********

My bedroom does look much better.  Rearranged it, cleaned the carpet and hung some pictures.  Overall, good weekend of just lazing around.  Made some pesto yesterday -- mighty tasty. 

This blog comes to you from under the bus.

Yeppur, got thrown under the tires of a large bus this week by my former, yes former, boss, as she has now turned me over to the new boss, who will henceforth be known as Linga.  I would call her Satan, but I'd hate to insult the poor creature (Satan, that is). Linga was my sister's boss from way-back-when that nearly drove her to insanity.  I will not be driven to insanity, but I will find a way to deal with her. 

With that, there are some new work rules for dealing with the likes of Linga:

1. From this day forward I will no longer offer to stay late, work late, work weekends or even stay past my normally scheduled 8 hour shift.  I get paid for 8, I'm leaving after 8.

2. I will make sure that Linga has what she needs from me, but no extras.

3. I will keep my eyes on the prize.  I will do my job to the best of my ability but I know that this is not the end-all, be-all of my career.  This is a job -- and henceforth will be treated as such.  My life is no longer for sale for the sake of a paycheck.


Aside from the bus tire tracks on my back, I found out this week that a dear friend has breast cancer (she is all of 34 years old) and another friend is going through a divorce.   

Going through my first tropical storm now.  Not to jinx the living shit out of myself (and my stuff) but this (to date) has been calmer than many of the rainstorms I've gone through here.  Of course I say that and next week a hurricane will make landfall here that makes Katrina and Andrew look like a sprinkle. 

Life and Other Oddities.

I was out this weekend with Mary and the Wine chick, having a girls' day on Sunday.  Lunch, then pedicures, then over to the Wine chick's mom & dad's house for review of baby clothes.  Wine chick is 7 months pregnant.  After this, we went back to Wine chick's house for some, well, wine. 

They both got a big kick out of torturing me about my lack of dating and the other pleasantries that come from dating.  After hearing all about their great sex lives, I had nothing to offer, just a "haven't done that in awhile." 

Sigh. 

Gotta move to a bigger town.  More men my age.  This place is driving me crazy. 

Letting Sleeping Dogs Lie

While Facebook can be a wonderous thing, it can also be a bit overwhelming.  Case in point, I got a friend request from someone I've known since I was 12 years old.  Before ultimately ignoring her request, I spent some seriously introspective hours contemplating what it would be like to include this person in my life again.  Ultimately, the answer was no, life is short, bullshit is deep and I enjoy being happy.  This person doesn't make me happy -- she/he makes me sad/upset/concerned.

I could go into all the reasons why I ignored the friend request, but really, truly, those reasons are far more personal and gut-wrenching than I care to think about.  Not having them in my life is not a hardship for me, in fact it is peaceful. 

So I'm letting that sleeping dog lie.  I am glad to just have let it all go -- much like the shredding of this past week.

Cleaning out the guest room closet

Each month from now until I move again (11 months from now), I have one task per month to complete.  This month's task is cleaning out the guest room closet.

You might imagine this is an arduous task, given that I've allocated a month for the cleanup.  You'd be right, by the way, it is horrendous.

The guest closet has been the "catch all" for all boxes and totes that needed dealt with since I moved here.  I have not, repeat, have not, opened one single box that has been in that closet for over a year.  As you might imagine, there are a lot of things in there that do not belong in my life anymore.

For example: office supplies.  To say I could run my own Office Depot or Staples is not an exaggeration.  There are tons of office supplies in there.  A few will go to work (to up my piles of stuff there) but the majority of it is going to a friend for her elementary school.  As you, dear reader, are probably aware, teachers (and students) are often starved for supplies.  As such, these supplies will be well used and cherished by elementary students and teachers at Seagate Elem. in Naples. 

Then there was the paperwork. 

Holy Fuck.

Yep, it was outrageous as to the amount of paperwork I had saved for reasons unbeknownst to me.  I mean, I must have had a unknown crack habit to completely forget I had all this paperwork.  So I sorted and piled.  One pile for recycling (large), one pile for shredding (large) and one pile for keeps (teeny tiny).  I found some things I didn't realized I had packed.

Like my file on my car accident back in 2000.  Police report, medical records, letters from that illegal, non-license having, piece of shit's attorney and all the insurance records.  Shredding that was calming, peaceful and took my mind off it entirely.

Then there was a wedding file.  Wow.  I sure did not realize I had kept that stuff.  I mean, I kept the wedding license and divorce decree (because apparently I have to keep that shit), but wedding cards, our "formal" wedding license, pre-nup stuff (yes, we had a pre-nup), guest list and notes from my Hex were all in this file.  I found a picture of us, taken 8 years ago this June at his Mom's house.  It is sad to say this but we looked truly happy.  Looking through the eyes of the present day, I know, of course, all the things that happened since and it made me a little teary-eyed.  I never thought in my wildest, most terrible nightmares that I'd get divorced and yet all the evidence of a marriage gone wrong was in my hands.  Shredding all that stuff was an enormous weight off my shoulders.  I felt a great peace wash over me as I said goodbye to a life ended (5 years ago this year) and straightened my shoulders to look to the future.

As a side note, it was five years ago today that I acknowledged, publicly, that my marriage wasn't working and hadn't been working.  On July 15, 2005, I filed for formal separation from the Hex. 

**************************

If nothing else, it made me realize just how much I'd like to be married again and perhaps, perhaps, have children.  At this point, I'm almost feeling too old (although I know plenty of people YEARS older than me having their first child), so maybe someone with kid(s) would be appropriate.   I don't know what the future holds, all I know is that I'm happy with my own life -- which is surely a positive step towards including someone in it.

Quote Of The Day, nay, YEAR.

A coworker told me:

"Athena, it is ALL ABOUT YOU today." (in response to my numerous data requests)

to which I replied: "Damn, and you aren't single!"

Although I don't get to make men blush very often, it is satisfying when I do. 

:)

Still Phoneless and Work Stress.

My phone is not just dead, but officially dead.  Declared DOA at Batteries Plus and Verizon.  Tomorrow, God Willing and The Creek Don't Rise, I ought to have a new phone by 10 a.m. 

A couple of observations from a person that hasn't been without a cell phone for ten years now:

1. I feel a little jittery and nervous.  I can't exactly put my finger on it, it is like I put on one sandal and one shoe, just out of sorts.

2. I generally talk to my Mom every day.  I'm a little lonely for her company.

3. I miss getting texts from my friends with the usual nonsense.

4. It has been awful quiet these past two nights at my house without a phone. 

5. The cats haven't noticed, other than their sleep hasn't been disturbed by aforementioned texts or phone calls.

*****************************

In less than one month, I will be in Ireland, enjoying the Guiness with my friend Angela.  I am so excited about that I can barely comprehend it is true.  The trip has been paid for since April but still, still, it seems that it isn't possible, logical or comprehensible that I will be in Ireland.  For a Week.  IRELAND!!!

Yeah  hooooooooooooooooeeeeeeeeeeyyy!!!

On the other hand, it seems like much too short of a time.  I have two grants due to the respective funding agencies this month.  Both equal up to about 2.75M.  Yes, $2,750,000.   If I get one or both of these, I will be in ROCK STAR status at work.  If I don't get either of these, there will be plenty of disappointment to go around -- all directed my way. 

So I'm nervous.
Scared.
Freaked Out.
Stressed.

Anyone want to give me a backrub?  Preferably a single guy with (exceedingly low) morals -- at least for one night?

Best stress relief I can think of and unfortunately, I'm in exactly the wrong town to do a damn thing about that.  Booooooooooooooo.

I'm phoneless.

My phone died today.  No warning, no rhyme, no reason ... just repeated "trying to connect to the desktop" syncing then ... nothing.  So long Palm.  I loved you.  You were a good phone.  Despite my repeated drops on pavement, you were Timex-like, in that you kept on tickin'. 

Tomorrow I get the joy of getting another phone.  Now let's just start of by saying that I don't know jackshit about phones other than: 1) I want to be able to call; 2) I want to be able to send texts (message, video and picture); and I want it to sync to my calendar at work. 

Pretty easy, right?  I mean, the list is short, it's no big whoop, it's basic.

Well fuck me runnin', finding a phone like this that doesn't require "instant web access" or "instant email updates" is like I have revisited the Phone Dark Ages.  I want a smart phone but not one so smart I am a complete fucking idiot compared to it.  I'm thinking Palm again, as I know what to do with the darn thing and likely won't have to learn a million more details.

I'm a Verizon customer, much to my AT&T lovin' & workin' friends chagrin.  The store nearest to me (and, for that matter, all other Verizon carrying stores) closed at 6 p.m. tonight.  It opens tomorrow at 9 a.m.  I am going to be on it like white on rice in the morning.

Then I won't be phoneless anymore. 

Damn that was a quick week

So I meant to blog about the remainder of my trip but let's just do a quick recap instead:

Saw Family
Saw Friends (except for Jay of Plays with Sirens fame [booo])
Tailgated the fireworks in downtown Indy
Drove my sister's Saab convertible a lot (sigh, sigh, sigh)
Ate lots of pizza
Slept with the windows open (!?!)
Read Shadow Country by Peter Matthiessen (story of E.J. Watson in Ft. Myers/Everglades City/Chockoluskee)  and still reading this ... about 800 pages or so.

**************
Got back to FM, my cold is still in full effect.  Cough, sneezing, occasional hacked-up snot balls, the works.  I am one charming woman this week.

This morning I awoke to a dead gecko on my bedroom floor.  Placed ever-so-nicely by my guardcats, I believe it is the one that got in last week before I left for IN.  I warned him then that his lifespan was significantly shortened by entry to my house, but he ran from me before I could throw him back out.  Score is currently Geckos 0, Cats 6.

Went out for beverages on Wednesday night with my coworker, A, her husband and many of their friends.  Also included another coworker, P, who was brought into the group because she is a great deal of fun.  We laughed and had a good time, it was a nice mid-week relaxer.

Angela is now doing all my worrying for me, so I am living free and happy. 

Nothing further happened with Jason, I didn't see him again before I left.  It was weird though, having those feelings come out of nowhere.  I mean, really, it's been a year.  After another week's worth of thought, the only thing I can come up with is that he is/was my one serious relationship after the Hex (in nearly 5 years), and that definitely accounts for something.

This weekend is all about cleaning the house.  Specifically my guest bedroom closet as that is my task of the month.  Wish me luck.  If I don't post for another week or check in on Facebook, you may want to call my apartment complex and have them rescue me.  I'll be under the pile of boxes in the closet. 

I saw him last night (the rest of the story)

Where was I?  Oh yeah ... here we go.


If you've been playing along in this magical mystery tour I call my existence, you know that last year, before I left Indy, I was dating a guy I've called Jason on this blog. If you'll recall, he came to FM for the 4th of July and I called off our relationship a couple weeks later. It was clear he wasn't moving there, I wasn't moving back, and, quite frankly, I wasn't sure if it was going any farther. We'd dated since Labor Day the year before (2008).

Since last July, we've been talking on the phone and emailed. I've tried to maintain a friendship -- obviously I liked him enough to date, we didn't end on bad terms, may as well be friends.

I told him I was coming up and he asked me if he'd get to see me. I said I'd try and I left it at that.

So I saw him last night ....
**************

I had talked to him earlier in the evening, asked him if he was going to be home after I went to dinner with my friends downtown and he said yes.  I then asked if I could come over, I'd like to talk to him about some things that were going on -- he was good with that too.

I got over to his house around 10:15 or so.  His dog greeted me with unbelievable joy, wagging her whole body in half over and over with the tail going at a furious pace.  I gave her big love and when I sat down on his couch, she came up on the couch and promptly made herself at home on my lap.  Nothing like a dog to calm one's nerves. 

I can't really say why I was nervous, other than in the first moment, it became apparent that the feelings I had for him in the past weren't dead.  That pretty much knocked me flat on my ass.  I hadn't expected it, hadn't anticipated it, and certainly hadn't given THAT a moment's thought when I had planned on seeing him last night.  I mean, yes, I haven't laid eyes on him since he was in Fort Myers last 4th of July weekend but we had talked plenty and our friendship had been going well.  Feelings, well, I definitely had them for him at one time, but I didn't think those were even within a hairsbreadth of being alive so I didn't think of that.

Of course.

We talked last night about this and that -- our usual sports talk with ESPN as our background noise.  (Yes, for those that don't know, I'm a total sports nut.  Watch ESPN a lot.  This is a secret, tell no one)  We talked about his family, his job, my job, my family, the dog and my future plans.  We also talked about guppies.

Yep, you read that right: guppies.  He has fish -- mostly guppies (as you may have guessed) and one was most assuredly pregnant.  As such, I was thinking that she had about .01 second to go before birthing more guppies and as it turned out I was right.

We spent the better part of an hour chasing baby guppies around the tank before we moved out to the porch to say goodbyes.  We talked for another hour there and just before I left, a count of the guppies was given.  16 new babies.  30 total baby guppies. 

No, "talking about guppies" is not code words for anything else.  

When we hugged as I was saying goodbye, it struck me how much I still miss him.  Where the Fuck Did THAT Come From?

Got some thinking to do on that bit of business too, I guess.

Back Home Again ... In Indiana ...

Feelin' a little Jim Nabors come over me ... didja feel it too?

****************
I'm back in Indiana and have managed to see a number of friends and family since arriving on early Wednesday night.  Some good news shared, some bad news shared, lots of laughs and just thinking about all these people makes me smile deep into my soul.  I am blessed, truly blessed beyond any measure, that I have such wonderful friends and family.  Where on earth would any of us be without them?
***************

Strange developments since arriving here though.  One has to do with me, one has to do with a friend.

The friend first, of course.  Why do I want to spill my dirty laundry all over the floor? ;)

So, my friend Lu.  She lost her husband last year, if you've read the blog, you've kept up with that ongoing saga.  Suffice to say, I loved her husband dearly and considered him like a brother, as she is my sister in the heart.  When Steve passed, I thought I would lose my mind and I cannot even fathom how she felt. 

So what's the deal now?  Hmm.  I don't know quite how to say it so I'll just be blunt.  She's dating someone not worthy of her AT ALL.  I met him on Wednesday night when they both picked me up at the airport.  Seemed nice enough at first, if not too gabby (overshare-r of the first order).  Wasn't quite sure what to make of him, seemed only an inch deep as a person and maybe that wide too.  False, fake, a "used car salesman in a 3rd rate lot" was how I described him to another friend.   Not a good person.  We met Sister and Boy Wonder at dinner at Bazbeaux in Broad Ripple. 

To give you an example ... the creepy bastard snapped his fingers at our server, calling him "boss" because he could not remember his name.  That, among other things, drove Sister, Boy Wonder and I absolutely bat-shit crazy. 

Good news -- I'm not here, I don't have to deal with him daily, even weekly.  Bad news, he's dating my dear friend and God Help Her.   Bah!  So annoyed!  To be that much of a jerk just appalls me to no end -- and frustrates me for her.  She's charmed by him (although I SURE AS HELL CAN'T SEE WHY) and he is showily fond of her (public displays of affection, patting her ass in public, etc). 

Blech.  Barf-city.

**********
So, me.

If you've been playing along in this magical mystery tour I call my existence, you know that last year, before I left Indy, I was dating a guy I've called Jason on this blog.  If you'll recall, he came to FM for the 4th of July and I called off our relationship a couple weeks later.  It was clear he wasn't moving there, I wasn't moving back, and, quite frankly, I wasn't sure if it was going any farther.  We'd dated since Labor Day the year before (2008).

Since last July, we've been talking on the phone and emailed.  I've tried to maintain a friendship -- obviously I liked him enough to date, we didn't end on bad terms, may as well be friends. 

I told him I was coming up and he asked me if he'd get to see me.  I said I'd try and I left it at that.

So I saw him last night .... (more later)