Archive | September, 2011

My personal shopper…

19 Sep

I workout every morning from 6am til 7:30a then do my Wonder Woman thing (as The Rockstar calls it) so I’m all perty girlie and work ready. I work full-time and there is always something ‘to-do’ after wards. Groceries, martini’s, dinner. Whatnot.

So I shop a LOT on line. Overstock and Amazon are my go-to sites for quick and easy purchases. And if you’re buying something well, rather personal, the delivery guy just leaves it discreetly on your porch.

That is, until you move into a condo.

You see, packages left in a doorway at a condo or apartment are subject to theft more often than those left at private residences. Good to know – NOW!

I’ve met my neighbors: Upstairs, it’s Tubby Ted and his wife (wtf is her name?!?). Next door is Jean, her hubby and their yorkie CoCo. Above them is some terribly unfriendly woman with a weinerdog.

I have no suspicions any of my neighbors would steal my packages. They all seem like fine upstanding folk.

Wipe that smile off your face, Brown...

What I do wonder however is whether any of my neighbors know what’s in packages THAT THEY SIGN FOR WHEN I’M NOT HOME. Hewl, I don’t necessarily have a problem with the UPS man knowing what I’m buying, it sorta explains the smile and urgent knock on my door. I just don’t want my neighbors to have any clue about what I’m doing. Except when I’m outside smoking a flavored cigar. Or walking around my bedroom nekkid. But that’s a story for another post.

Anyhoohaw, turns out UPS delivered something a little special today, maybe just a wee bit naughty and holy shitballs batman, fuckety fuck if Jean didn’t sign for my package.

First thought other than “fucking A, finally it shows up” is “dear lord baby hayzeus, please tell me the return label doesn’t indicate it came from Candy Land or some shit”.

I guess tonight I’ll find out if I’ve been found out.


Trying to forget…

11 Sep

On the anniversary of 9/11, while the rest of the country world is remembering the agony of the day, I am choosing to forget.

Not 9/11. Not the fear. But on a more personal level, I’m choosing to let things go. To move forward and life live now.

Reality has an uncanny way of reminding us how fragile we are, so dwelling on the events of a particular action from 10 years ago seems to me to be… well, a bit indulgent.

Now don’t go all getting your panties in a ruffle. I’m relating all of this to my own soul searching recently. I’ve done a pretty good job at NOT dwelling on events from the past – and thank gawd for that – because there are some things that are quite painful and for all of you in therapy, reliving them aint easy.

As I sit here on my patio, listening to Tubby Ted, my upstairs neighbor, cough up his lungs, the only thing I don’t think I’ll be forgetting anytime soon is him.

For the rest, I’ll recall those events and be thankful for all that I have today, and with eyes wide open, I’ll nudge those memories back into a corner. For a while. Because while those events shaped me, they also taught me valuable lessons. And they cannot be unlearned.

History happens every day. But life is short and we have only one of them. I choose to be happy so yes, recall the past as needed, but… Live. Life. Now.

He’s dating now…

5 Sep

This weekend the estranged hubby un-friended me on Facebook. I wasn’t surprised by this but it caught me off guard. Sorta.

I thought a lot about this yesterday and surmised it’s because he’s meeting new people women and didn’t want me seeing their online chit chat. Or maybe it’s because he didn’t want me drooling over his food porn.

For those of you who know me or him, we’re both foodies. And yes, his food is delicious and he plates it all perty like.

So it could have been that.

But I decided to ask him directly this morning. He told me he didn’t want to see my updates actually, but yes, he’s dating now. Not one particular lady apparently, but playing the field. These are my words – he kept it more succinct. “Yes, I’m dating.”

When I told my mother my suspicions yesterday, she tried to be objectively parental.

Mom: So how will you feel if he is dating?

Me: I don’t know, Mom. I kind of hope he is.

Mom: Why? This woman will take your place.

Me: I left my place three months ago. But that’s a good point. He won’t let me bring The Rockstar to the cabin…

Yes, crimson sheets...

Mom: Do you think he’s bringing women home and into your bed?

Me: It’s not my bed anymore Mom. I have a brand new, queen size, $1500 bed to prove it.

Mom: You know what I mean.

Me: {sigh} I think it’d be good for him to find a nice woman and laugh some.

Mom: It’s really over, isn’t it.

Me: Yes.

When I left, I decided to take one day at a time. Breathe some. Find me. Take pictures. Learn guitar. Sing again.

Yesterday afternoon, I’m sitting on my patio with The Rockstar and just relaxing. He’s teaching me how to relax. It’s so counter-intuitive to my very nature that I’m struggling with and warring against it. I’m just so used to being in perpetual motion.

I’m liking the “do nothing” concept. For now.

So I’m sitting on my patio, got my iPad on my lap, listening to Grace Potter and I decide to belt one out. Shitfuck, I’m out of tune. I need to practice more. But weirdly enough, singing in front of The Rockstar (even out of tune) didn’t make me feel self-conscious like it used to in front of other people. Hmm.

The past month and a half have been such a whirlwind of finding an apartment, moving in, buying furniture and basic household stuff that I’ve not given me any time to work on me.

And now that he’s dating, and as the colors begin to change in both of our lives, I can’t help but think as seasons change, and people with them, if you’re lucky you’ll find yourself awash in vivid colors and amidst people who fill your space with warmth. And laughter. Because, after all, without laughter, what’s the point?