Blue Sky~

So I have a new favorite song! I know you are on the edge of your kitchen chair/ living room sofa/ lawn furniture/ beanbag waiting to hear what it is! It is called 'Blue Sky' by Emily West, featuring Keith Urban. I love it for the chorus, which goes a little something like this....

"Weather man says it’s gonna rain tonight
The kind of storm where the basement floods and you lose the lights
Should have thought of that before
‘Cause I’m not your blue sky anymore"

And I love it for two reasons. One, it says 'up yours' in prettier words to the tune of a song that feels like 'i really love you'. Very clever. (Jaron and the Long Road Home do this, too, with "I Pray For You" which I like, but this one is way prettier) I like clever.

Two, it uses the analogy of a storm and I LOVE storms. I love the drama of a good storm; the way that the wind seems to to just kick it up a notch at a time until you are looking at the sky just waiting for it. And then the pick up and build until the thunder is arguing with itself and the lightning is splitting the sky in pieces like ripping fabric. And then the storm afterglow, when the thunder just mumbles vaguely in the distance while the rain plays quiet against the roof and everything just seems to settle back into itself and breathe. I love that this song uses that rise and fall to illustrate a failed relationship. Again with the clever.

Challenge of the Week~

In general, I am not a jaded person. I am much more wide-eyed child than world weary cynic. I like to see the best in people, to keep an open mind, and believe that everyone is capable of changing. But every once in a while this backfires on me and I battle with my inner pessimist to try and see past it. This week has been a serious challenge for me to keep the bitter at bay.

Brad is directly and indirectly involved in this - shocker. After having barely any communication with him for nine months, he emails me out of the blue. Here is where I made my first mistake....I answered him. Not smart, I know, but there is part of me that always has hope that one day the man I married is going to pop back up and be there. Thankfully that is a very small part of me and the bigger, realistic part usually wins. Just not the day he emailed me apparently.

To make a very long story short, I pretty much lay out ground rules that I don't want to keep contact unless he can be honest and straight forward. I just can't handle truth stretchers - and he is a master at it. I just don't have the patience to untangle the stories anymore and find the one thread that is real. So we have dinner, hang out, things go fine. A few days later I catch him in a flat out lie. He couldn't even be around for a week without lying to me! What is up with that? How do people live that way? It blows my mind. And when I call him on it, he tries to make me feel like an idiot for being upset - which is completely his M.O. - turn any situation around so he isn't the bad guy instead of accepting responsibility for anything. Brad is always a victim. So that is that. But I am annoyed with myself for letting him get under my skin and I am frustrated with myself for giving him the benefit of the doubt - for the 42nd time. I don't learn.

So in the middle of this mini-drama, I find out that Brad has been in contact with one of my blog readers. This reader is not someone that I know, but she contacted me back when I was writing Season One and told me a mutual friend had recommended my blog to her. She had also been divorced and we exchanged a couple emails talking about our experiences. After a bit, I found out she knew Brad so I emailed her to let her know of the connection and explained that while I was fine with her being a fan of my blog I wouldn't be comfortable with her being on my personal pages. I just know how Brad operates and I felt it would avoid drama. I didn't distrust her, but I just didn't want to leave a window of opportunity for anything. Apparently, this girl turned around and shared all these personal emails with Brad. And then when I moved to this blog site for Season Two, she asked me to add her as a fan here. Seriously? What is the matter with people? Is it too much to ask for people to say what they mean and have their actions really represent who they are?

So this week has been a challenge for me to not feel jaded. This blog is such an honest piece of me and has provoked such open conversations with many different people. To find out that one of those people was underhanded is just disillusioning. And to deal with that in the same week as I dealt with Brad has just made me....cynical. I am sure that next week I will be back to my usual pollyanna self, but this week may find me indulging in my inner bitch a tad bit more than normal.

Apples and Wine~

I am completely cheating with this blog and ripping it off from my friend who emailed it to me this week. Not only because it made me smile and because it fits so perfectly with many of my blog entries - but because I want to share it with all my friends and readers that are good apples as well. The moral of the story is to NOT be an apple on the ground~


APPLES AND WINE ...

Women are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. Most men don't want to reach for the good ones because they're afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they sometimes take the apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy. The apples on top think there's something wrong with them, but in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right man to come along, the one who is brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

Now, men ... men are like a fine wine. They begin as grapes, and its up to women to stomp the shit out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.

Share this with all of the good apples you know.

Congrats to Wallace and Fiona~

Today, a little after midnight, our heroine's baby brother Wallace and his pretty new wife Fiona had their own baby boy. He is not even twenty four hours old and I am here to report that he is going to be a serious heartbreaker. He is, in a word, spectacular.

New babies always make me incredibly happy and incredibly jaded at the very same time. I have a niece through my marriage to Brad and two of my brothers have each given me a nephew. There is one more gender-fuzzy child in utero, to be making his/her debut in December. (I was not lying when I said my crazy, circus family was in expansion mode.) During all my time with said children and during all the fun baby events and hoopla - I am, for the most part, thrilled to be in that moment. Going home to a child free house at the end of all such hoopla - I am, about half of the time, frustrated at my own lack of prodigy.

I am not a career-minded individual. I have never dreamed of advancement and fulfillment through a job. I worked hard at whatever I did, believing that it would help get me to the point in my life where I could focus on what I thought was most important - starting and raising a family of my own. At the hospital last night while we waited for the appearance of our newest nephew, Lola and I were talking with a few other people about how it takes all kinds to make up the world; about how perfect it is that there are some people that feel a calling for working with the eldery or teaching or management or whatever - because then everyone that follows their passion plays a vital role in our world. I have always felt like my passions in life are all secondary to having the kind of family that I was raised in. I want to create that kind of enviroment for myself and my future kids.

The issue with this is that it is not something I can make happen on my own. Which frustrates me to no end. In life, for the most part, I have been able to achieve whatever I want. I am not afraid of working hard, I learn quickly, and I am willing to put in the effort to get where I want to go. Over the years this has earned me success in my career and in my lifestyle. If something is firmly in my control, then I can make it happen. Families and relationships are not like that. It was a hard lesson to learn when I was with Brad. It didn't matter how hard I worked, how much effort I put in - my marriage couldn't be fixed by myself alone. Having kids is a very similar kind of adventure.

Could I raise a family on my own? Probably. Do I want to? Not really. But the older I get the less I am willing to wait for someone that I think is worth building a family with. I feel like every birthday that passes I stop and evaluate the delicate balance of my life and whether I am ready to risk doing it all along and forever changing the course of my life- or if I should just be patient.

Time shall tell....

Idol Rant~

For those of you unaware, I am a bit of a reality tv junkie. Not in an obsessive, tv hugging, insane kind of way. But a junkie nonetheless. Survivor, American Idol, Amazing Race, Dancing with the Stars, and even - shamefully - an occasional season of Big Brother. I don't cry if I miss an episode, however I do research what I missed online at first opportunity.

On to the event that prompted this venting - I just finished watching the American Idol finale. My reaction is......I have never been so happy that I gave in to (ex)boyfriend pressure and got a DVR. Could they seriously have mashed together a stranger array of performances??? Did they look for songs specifically to make every past contestant look as awful as possible??? And could the majority of Simon's tributes - including the painful-to-watch address from Princess Paula - have possibly been more awkward??? I actually like reality television and I forwarded through almost the entire show. I really like Chicago - and I STILL fwded through it - because it was the weirdest medley of songs ever. Also, was it just me or was there insane sound balance issues for the entirety of the evening? I kept waiting and waiting for that one performance, that one duet, that would make me save the recording to watch later. Suffice to say...never happened. Delete.

There are two exceptions to the snooze fest that was the finale - although neither are performances sadly. One, I really honestly liked the Simon tribute that was done to 'My Way' and the parade of idol alumni that followed. Not because those alumni had a great song or performance (because they didn't) but because it was touching. I will miss Simon. In fact, unless he is replaced by Neil Patrick Harris or someone incredible to look at...like Will Smith...I will probably just follow the highlights online next year. (I say that now in my fit of despair - I may change my mind once that clears) The second thing I loved was Lee's winning moment. I have loved Lee since about top 12 - and his story is why I like this show. He kept me invested in this season and I was so happy to see him win. Before you Crystal lovers start leaving me hateful comments - I fully admit she is the better vocalist. However, she just can't hold my interest, I would never buy her music, and her eyes don't well up with tears of amazement any time anyone says nice stuff about her. Also, she was mouthy with the judges which just annoyed me. So I am on the Lee bandwagon and his winning almost made up for the ridiculousness (spellcheck vetoes my word choice - but I still make the rules in this blog) that was the finale. I suppose I will have to pin my summer hopes on The Price of Beauty.....

Word of the Day~

To fuel my wine habit I watch kids all day long. This choice has been mocked on occasion by people that think I need a 'real' job - but they have obviously never watched children for any length of time. I am not saying that some days aren't very easy, because they are....but you never know which day that is going to be. With young kids things can go haywire in an instant - and on those days I earn every penny of the big bucks. I don't ever regret trading in my 'real' money making career for what I do now. And here is just one of the reasons why....

Children are hysterical, adorable, and unpredictable. Every day is really an adventure of some degree, usually in a good way. At my house, we try to start off our mornings with a somewhat set routine. (I say 'try' because sometimes you just have to go off the grid - I have learned to be pretty flexible) Usually in the mornings my tv is on PBS because I love learning to say dinosaur in Spanish. (Di-no-sar-io) On Sesame Street they have a word of the day and today's word is 'exquisite'. So I am rocking a baby and watching this with a three year old boy as Eva Longoria Parker describes 'exquisite' by saying it means very beautiful and very special. And then this little boy makes my day, maybe even my week, with this conversation.

BOY: "You know what? You are exquisite!"
ME: "Really? You think so?"
BOY: "Yup! You are very beautiful and very special - So you are exquisite!"

I will take 'exquisite' over 'an asset to our company' any day in a job review. Priceless.

Drunk Dialing~

It is almost one in the morning, which isn't surprising because I frequently blog late at night. I have had half a bottle of a pretty satisfying pinot noir, plenty of crunchy French bread (for absorption purposes), and a handful of Double Stuff Oreos - which is pretty much the only way to go anymore. They should just take those ordinary stuffed ones right off the shelf.

Right now the people that know me best are probably reading this through their fingers like when you watch a scary movie - afraid to watch it straight on, but unable to look away. They can see the signs that point to disaster in my world, namely wine and being up by myself at one in the morning. Typically, I make some bad decisions in these situations. Even more so now that technology lets me instantly connect to anyone, at anytime. It is like drunk dialing without all the hassle of making my wine-weighted fingers work that complicated cell phone touch screen. And my lucky recipients can't talk back or hang up. Genius. Damn you Facebook, I love you.

In the past, I have been a prolific drunk dialer. I am a chatty drinker to begin with, so that does not work in my favor. When everyone else that I am drinking with falls asleep or passes out - I am forced to go in search of someone else to listen to me prattle. Typically this is a sober person that I wake up and then say "oh? you are awake? Great!" I am also a drunk dialer whore - I will call anyone. I don't limit myself to ex's or significant others. Siblings, friends, strangers on a drinking buddy's phone...all fair game. As long as this person isn't an ex, I am usually forgiven and listened to. As a rule, ex's are less than thrilled. Also, if it is early enough in the evening and I call my mom - she will yell at me and then call me at an obscene hour the next morning purely to set off a hangover headache.


Even with all of this however, I don't hold the record as the worst drunk dialer of my acquaintance. That title goes to Wallace, who we all learned recently was married in Vegas. Well, back before he knew his bride - he liked to drink vodka at my house back when I was married to Brad. Brad found it hysterical to get Wallace all liquored up - primarily because Wallace is a very big guy and when he drinks he falls into and over EVERYTHING. (I stopped letting them play in the house when he fell ON my coffee table and crushed it.) The all time favorite drunk dial involved Wallace calling one of our sisters, thinking he got her voice mail, and talking for about three quarters of an hour about God was cursing him because he wasn't 'getting any'. I will forever have a mental picture of Wallace sitting drunk in my recliner, pointing at the ceiling and telling God if he really loved him, then he would give him some 'tail'. I have never been prouder as a big sister.

So all the signs would seem to suggest that tonight I was setting myself up for a memory that I would rather not make - because let's face it - those phone conversations never go the way you want them to go. Chet wasn't going to hear me on the phone with a wine slur and instantly think I was so much more attractive. Or read an email that liquor logic put together and think I was so much smarter. And tomorrow morning I would not be proud of myself for speaking my sloshed mind and being open and honest about all my feelings. However, perhaps due to my increasing maturity or maybe just because I have seen how this plays out a time or two now, tonight I wisely enlisted the help of my sisters to keep me off my phone and I am forcing you to read my online ramblings - thus saving me the morning after mortification on both fronts. So my pride thanks you for your unwitting and unwilling participation. Also, my apologies to my mother - who is going to be less than thrilled to read about Wallace's drunk dial. Now, I am off to bed....as soon as I add more bread to my grocery list~

Peeing With the Door Open~

I think it is inevitable that after a breakup you tend to indulge in postmortem analysis of everything the came and went during your relationship. You get pissed all over again at all the slights and faults of your partner. You think about all the sweet, quiet moments that you don't get to have again and grieve. You play the 'what if' game and try and second guess your actions and wonder if any other outcome was possible..or if God/fate/karma just meant for things to happen this way. I am probably more likely than the average Joe to indulge in this backward thinking. I won't go so far as to say that I enjoy wallowing - but I am comfortable in my emotions. I had a fantastic Wednesday night wake for my failed relationship - complete with wine and American Idol - alternating being sad and being angry. I am still uncertain which one wins. I suppose it depends on when you ask me still.

In the course of this wallowing, I thought about if it was possible that I could have acted in a way that created a different ending. If I could have adjusted so that Chet and I were still annoying Cindy (hmmm...still can't remember her alias) with our cutesy facebook chatter. Without even thinking really hard I could come up with things I should have handled differently or moments where I should have talked something out instead of glossing it over - but nothing that would have changed the path we were on. Just typical duh moments that happen in all our relationships - platonic and non - that we wish we could revisit for a moment. So if I asked myself if I could have changed something concrete, the answer is no. Despite my mistakes and flaws, I always gave an honest representation of who I am and what I was looking for. I was exactly who I said I was, who I have been all along.

However - here is what I would change. Peeing with the door open.

Bear with me here for a moment and (for most of you) this will make sense shortly. When Chet and I started dating, we pretty much ran head first into this relationship. It was hard not to really...we already knew each other so there was no getting-to-know-you dating lag time. He had met my family weeks before we even kissed, so family was already involved. And people were just so freaking happy for us. Don't get me wrong - I loved the support and the enthusiasm. At first it was fantastic to have everyone be so excited. But what happens when you hear "oh-you-guys-are-perfect-together!" over and over from all your friends and family? It creates this strange, invisible pressure...to be perfect and to get it right. And I think it made us rush to this place where we were almost old-and-married....when we should have been still looking for dark corners to make out in like randy teenagers.

Enter....peeing with the door open. Chet's apartment has old doors that don't like to stay shut. Chet also has a very curious puppy that doesn't believe that you are allowed to go into a room if she can't go, too. So before we were even dating a few solid weeks, there were two choices. Play with the door forever like an idiot and jump up mid-pee to protect it from the invading puppy or surrender gracefully and pee with the open door. I am not a squeamish, shy kind of girl. The literal act of peeing with the door is not what is the point here. But there is an intimacy in sharing a bathroom. An intimacy that typically comes from time...and the sharing of sweatpants and toothbrushes. We just were not to that point. (I actually don't ever like to share my toothbrush - one boyfriend borrowed it once and I just went and bought a new one.) Of course this didn't automatically doom us, but it is just the early precursor to our habit of skipping ahead. The event that swung the tide, for me, was Vegas.

Vegas was.....awesome, fun, exhausting, and stressful. We went for Fiona and Wallace's wedding and we really did see some very cool things. We also came home with all our belongings and even some of our cash, so all in all it was a successful trip. But Vegas amped up all this pressure that was there. Now, of course, keep in mind this is my viewpoint and how I feel. If you ask Chet he may very well tell you that he just couldn't take my candles or snoring any longer. I don't know, because frankly we just don't talk well. So you will have to go to him for his side. But for me, Vegas made everything feel....hmmm...I don't even have the word for it really...'heavy' maybe? Weighty? Serious? Not because we took a trip together, but because is was ...Vegas.

So in the weeks leading up to our trip, and when we were there, and when we came back...all we heard was "are you getting married?", "did you get married?", and "when are you going to get married?". It wasn't even just one person that kept on about it - there were just so many people that liked us together or were happy for us....which is a great thing, don't get me wrong. It made me feel confident in my decision to be with Chet when all our friends and family were so certain that we were good for each other. And Chet and I were not blameless. We played it up sometimes to mess with people. It felt good to have people be excited for us and it was fun and cute....at first. But it began to pile up and create expectations - and I am a people pleaser so I began to worry and stress about expectations. I would not be exaggerating to say that I probably had about fifty conversations with curious people about where Chet and I were in regards to getting married - and we had been dating for two months at this point. It was so much pressure to place on a fledgling romance. Too much pressure. And in the last home stretch here, I really felt like I was pulled so thin that nothing was getting my best effort. Not Chet, not my family, not my home or my puppies or school. I felt like I was losing bits of my life under this pressure to be as perfect and as serious as everyone thought we were. I began to feel like a regular dinner and a movie date was my new holy grail.

So if I had to go back and do it again, I wouldn't change myself. However, I would have slowed everything down. I would have not done his laundry or taken care of his dog every night. I would have spent that time shopping online for naughty underwear and sent him texts of my favorites. I would have made him ask me out for dinner and a movie instead of meeting him at his house in pajama pants with take out. I would have stayed in that dating stage as long as possible. Instead of trying to be everything he needed - I would have just been the girl he went out with 2 nights a week and dreamed about for the rest of them. I would have resisted the urge to jump ahead. And I would have bought a heavy duty stopper for the bathroom door.

The Demise of Chet

Ok - so not like his literal demise. I have zero plans to have him whacked by silent men in ill-fitting suits just because he was idiotic enough to not see the exceptional value of yours truly. But the demise of his relevance in our heroine's story.

As this unfolded, my circle of family and friends had such supportive - and strange- reactions. Lola wanted to write Chet a letter explaining the reasons why he and I were logically a good fit - God bless her little brainy heart. My mom called to talk to me and find out how I was doing and, after offering up appropriate heartfelt sentiments, informed me that it was the collective opinion of her household that Chet would see the error of his ways and that I should be nice to him if he came back - everyone makes mistakes. The offerings of wine poured in (haha "poured"? Get it? I crack me up!) from so many people that if I accepted them all then I would spend the next week and a half with the smell of grapes oozing out my pores. I love it all, of course, but have learned a thing or two about breakups and booze.

I am not really going to tell you much dirt about the unraveling of us, sadly. As comforting as it may be to lay out all Chet's flaws and immature behavior in front of you - I had to take a blood oath when I began blogging to use my gift for the betterment of humankind, not evil. (I had to sneak the word 'immature' in there -even though it technically breaks my oath - I am merely human) Also, many of you know Chet's actual identity at this point and that would be mean. Contrary to semi-popular thought (among my ex's and pizza men that take more than 30 minutes to deliver) I am not mean. So here is what I will say....

At this point in time, Chet and I are just not looking for the same thing in a relationship. I learned a ton, about myself and about relationships, from my past. It has left me knowing what I want, knowing what works and what doesn't, knowing what is important to fight for and what is just not worth arguing over...and as much as I wish I could inject those lessons into another human being so he will see my point - that is not possible at this point in science. Chet's past is nothing like mine and has different events that color his view in a completely opposite way - A way that I just feel is unrealistic in the long term.

At the end of the day, a relationship is about building your future. I am not looking to date someone that isn't prepared to build a future with me. I have been there before. I would rather be alone than be with someone that doesn't share my dreams and plans. Especially at this point in my life. I am not saying that what I want is for everyone - there is nothing wrong with Chet's relationship view if you are in your early twenties or if you aren't looking for something more. But that isn't me. So although I am way less than thrilled with the circumstances surrounding our conclusion - waaaaaayyyy less thrilled, I had much higher expectations of behavior for Chet - I think it may be what needed to be done. Everything happens for a reason. Time will tell what this one is~

From the Desk of the Ringleader~

Hello dear readers! I know I promised blogging adventures last week, but life is seriously kind of insane lately. For those of you that would not recognize me walking around Meijers at one in the morning (which I do frequently - it is a compulsion - I love Meijers) I have a fairly large immediate family. As the oldest, sometimes this makes me feel like the ringmaster of a very noisy, very entertaining, but very busy circus.

Currently, our circus is in earnest expansion mode. Lola is getting married in August. Wallace just got married in Vegas. Wallace is also expecting a baby with his new wife in June. We are planning a July shindig to introduce all our various connections, including a total of six families. My other brother is expecting - well his wife is expecting. All of these connections mean a slew of showers, weddings, receptions, parties....all in addition to the normal challenge of making sure to get family time. Life is just crazy. So I promise to be back soon. Keep the faith!