crickets

And so I sent the little note to Bernard.

Short, sweet and with my phone number.

I have heard nothing. Cue the crickets chirping.

Surprisingly, I am not really disappointed. Of course, I have other concerns that are taking precedence. Silly little concerns like my employment and how to make my current job okay. I don't feel like I can excel in this current role because everything is so status quo... an environment that tells me "do this because that's what we've always done." I need more room to grow and when I expressed this along with a few other things to my boss, he was less than supportive. Now, I have to do damage control until I can figure out the way forward. Right now, damage control isn't going so swimmingly.

I also have to get the home remodel finished. I need to be fully unpacked and organised soon. I just want everything done so I can simply enjoy my surroundings.

Missing Austin has been right up there too. I miss my friends, my Texas life. It is the little things like people aren't as friendly in the shops here... let's be honest people aren't as friendly here in general, which has caused me to close down a fair amount... my former open Texas-ness is slipping away and I am not happy about it.

For the past twenty years, I have been working very hard to leave Colorado. From the moment I applied for university, my sole mission was to leave the state forever. While I successfully leave for short or long periods of time, I always find myself back here.

A few months after I returned to Denver last year, I had an epiphany. After many years and many failed attempts at permanent exodus from Colorado, I realized that maybe I need to learn to be happy here, find happiness here before I can finally be free. The theory makes so much sense to me and forces to me try a little harder every day. Unfortunately, Colorado happiness continues to elude me.

So these are the thoughts and ideas actively swirling throughout my head occupying more space than the sound of crickets from Bernard.

lifeclass

Tonight was the first episode for Oprah's new season of Lifeclass.

After watching the episode, realizations ring through Stepford tonight. Namely, the getting stuck in your story portion of the program. I saw myself when Iyanla spoke to a man about being stuck in his story. As she described the root of the problem, my sirens went off. The current story I am addicted to is Lola's death. Every painful inch from the moment Lola broke her leg until Lola drew her last breath. Lola's sickness, my care taking, the surrealism of the whole situation has become my story and I am addicted to it. Addicted to reliving the heart break, the sorrow, the triumphs, the strength, the sadness, the extremeness of it all.

I need to refocus the situation. But in the meantime, here in baby steps world, I just need to recognize and acknowledge my addiction to Lola's story. From there forward movement to the truth phase of this new perspective.

don't cry for me, argentina

Oh kids! So much is going on and I am mentally/emotionally fried. I am so tired of living in limbo in EVERY aspect of my life.

My living situation, my physical location, my job, they are all in flux without any definitive answers yet. However, time keeps on moving forward. Hopefully next month, there will be more answers than questions.

Closing down two lives, starting a new one. It is such a tiring business being surrounded and breathing nothing but uncertainty.

Need to get back to preparing Stepford for house guests. Even in Stepford's final days, guests are pouring in. I am certainly looking forward to the arrival of much needed guests.

winds of change (and rage)

With all the uncertainty swirling around in my life, I started getting anxious about my mountain place. You see, the mountain house served as a dumping ground for my grandmother's house contents. My mother was unable to make decisions (remember my mother is the same woman who shopped for a couch for THREE years; clearly decision making is not her forte) and get rid of my grandmother's things so to save my poor father's sanity, my house became the mega storage unit. 


The storage unit conversion occurred about three years ago. Hence, my panic set in knowing my stuff will be returning and there is already too much of other people's stuff in my casa. I was a girl on a mission so I booked a ticket to officially commence Operation Get The House Sorted. 


I arrived home to hurricane force winds but my trusty little Nissan Versa rental somehow made it through. I surveyed the damage and hoped my mother would be able to part with these things now. As "acting" chief foreman, my mother has been hell bent on having a garage sale to unload the discards. I hail from a different mindset and firmly believe in donating the items to a women's charity, the local Lupus charity is my favorite. Why waste all the time haggling over a quarter, losing a whole day sitting in the driveway, and then listen to my mother complain incessantly that "people want chicken for 50 cents". I'd much rather give because I am lucky to have so much (and take the tax receipt). Clearly in the end, I am the one who comes out ahead on several levels (karma, baby!). 


Five days home and I finally broke my mother down. She saw the light and agreed to donate rather than go through the garage sale charade. While I was happy, I know my poor father was ecstatic because he doesn't have to suffer through another one of her pointless follies. 


I also went through almost every inch of my house to retire items that no longer turned me on. But during this whole-house sorting extravaganza, I found myself getting very agitated and angry. The cause? Seeing all the items my ex-husband, The Leech left behind. I was mortified by how much anger surfaced. After all, it is 7 years since he moved out and I moved on. But, I was livid as I went through his junk and deposited it in the garbage as most of it was literally junk. I was not expecting any anger after all this time but there I was at times shaking with rage as I dealt with his junk. I am hoping the Great Leech Clean-out of 2012 was just as good for removing my lurking anger as it was for clearing the house of the last vestiges. 


My panicked trip was good. The house is several steps closer to being ready for dwelling again and hopefully I am a few steps closer to wholeness too. 

click your heels three times

My acupuncture treatments have made a huge difference in how I am feeling. The veil of depression has lifted. However, what is left behind still doesn't help me a whole lot. I am clear thinking, clear feeling, and both of those aspects are telling me that I am done in Austin. My passion is gone. I have learned what I needed to learn from the city.

The time has come to find a new adventure. I want and need to explore new places. There is a desperate need for balance screaming throughout my being. I need to have a life that consists of more than simply work. I am tired of feeling transient and dwelling in a constant state of limbo. There is no forward or back; only the uncertainty of purgatory. I am tired of limbo. I want to learn something new, have time to make a house a home again, feel a sense of normalcy, build a life with Super Dad.

I am 110% ready to start my next phase. If only extricating myself was that easy.

courses

Remember my giddy happiness at Super Dad's impending arrival?

Remember I was counting down the days?

All that is done now. Super Dad will not be arriving on Thursday afternoon. 

During our conversation on Friday night, I mentioned that he would be here at this time next week. Super Dad was insistent that he was arriving in two weeks as next weekend he has his son. After Super Dad confirmed that his ticket is indeed for 10 Feb, he inquired with his ex-wife as to swapping weekends. Of course, his ex-wife has "plans" with her husband that weekend and cannot possibly keep their almost seventeen year old son.

I am surrounded by disappointed. A ticket is lost as well as a long overdue weekend together. Just when I start feeling revitalized about our relationship, another barrier is raised. Regardless of the man, I am growing incredibly tired of the constant hurdles. In Shakespeare's immortal words 'the course of true love never did run smooth', all my courses, true love, sorta love, or not love, are thwarted with landmines. I am ready to put my flack jacket away and enjoy a smooth newly paved road.

it's all the rage

Traveling, whether for business or pleasure, has always been a part of my life. My parents forced me to camp. Every other year, our family unit went to the Big Apple to see my father's family. I vividly remember the non-stop flights from Denver to New York - we typically flew TWA and the smokers would be huddled in the boot of the plane veiled in a cloud of smoke as I tried to make my way to the loo. I also remember my brother puking on those flights too. Of course, any transportation that moved combined with his propensity to overeat led to a childhood flowing with vomit.

But my brother, the puker has nothing to do with what I am struggling with now. These days I am dealing with a hound dog suffering from severe separation anxiety. You see, my dear Lulu returned from her fall kennel visits with this over-the-top anxiety issue. I brought a healthy hound to the doggie day spa and they returned a nervous wreck who shakes at the mere thought I might leave the room. Of course the doggie day spa claims nothing happened while under their care.... umm, yeah, right, I am so believing their convincing performance. Lulu has been kenneled on a regular basis since I adopted her because mommy must travel! We have never had any kennel mishaps until arriving in Texas. Something is definitely rotten in the outskirts of Austin.

Needless to say, Lulu had to see to a second vet to determine what to do. The answer? Prozac. Yes, my little Nervous Nellie is officially on anti-depressants. Giggling every step of the way, I took the canine prescription to Wally World where the pharmacist informed me that I'd "be surprised by how many Austin dogs are on Prozac." Sadly, much like in humans, it takes awhile for the levels to build, which means that I still have a ball of unbridled nerves on my hands. Each day I pray faithfully to the Prozac gods that today will be the day that relief comes. Not so much for the dog, mind you, but for me because I live in terror of what Lulu might do to herself while not under adult supervision. I can only drink so much wine to calm my nerves.

I now plan my schedule around the dog. However, I am not pleased at that, but I do love her. As Lulu's ninth birthday nears, she is trying my last nerve. I truly wish she would just muster up the words to tell me what bad thing happened while mommy was gallivanting in strange lands. Hopefully the Prozac kicks in soon or I might be forced to promise The Dog Whisper anything he wants. And in my desperate state, Cesar will get all that he wants. No questions asked.

never a smooth road

Remember my excitement about the Sunday night cocktail rendezvous with Super Dad.

Yeah, not happening. Thank you, work.

Disappointed.


But I did complete a 10k today!

crates of number two

today was yet another day straight from the depths of hell. i am physically and mentally exhausted, with emotionally drained trailing closely behind. came home to find the dog poo'd in her crate. icing on the cake, indeed.

when is the cycle going to come to an end? i am tired of the constant stress and strain. when will everything fall into place? i've paid my dues.

now, to prepare to face another day.

diving head first

Thursday evening I met my first ATX on-line dating man.

I did require not one, but two pep talks in order to make it to the bar. I tried like hell to grab a drink somewhere else, anywhere else before to calm me because I hate this part. Of course, Blondie and Pat Benetar were having a show downtown, which led to parking being an absolute nightmare and I never did get my pre-meeting chillout cocktail.

I arrived earlier than our appointed hour and proceeded to have a glass of champagne. I was wearing my black and white Calvin Klein modern take on the classic June Cleaver dress. My feet were tired from a week filled with stilettos, but I had chosen moderate heels that morning after much debate and inner turmoil. Little did I know, I really should have placed the kitten heels on my feet that morning. (foreshadowing! foreshadowing!)

So The Computer Geek came up to me at the bar. I was delighted that he did indeed resemble his photos. It was a bit of a rocky start as I hate that whole talking-to-a-person-you-barely-know thing and all the while I am being suspect since people aren't always truthful. The Computer Geek and I shared a bottle of wine and at some point the conversation flowed and before I knew it, time flew and it was late. I ran to the loo. I wasn't tipsy, simply tired and beginning to dread being up at dawn the next morning. Finished the bit of wine that was lingering in my glass. The Computer Geek picked up the check. He was digging me. We got up off the high bar chairs, then somehow I did not put my weight correctly on my right foot and before I know it, I am going down.

Down, down, down as in falling to the floor. I wanted to die. The Computer Geek was super nice and collected me up off the floor including my purse. I had to catch my breath. The bartender informed me that I executed my free-fall very gracefully. Meanwhile, I wanted to die. I thought I could walk on it but a few steps out of the bar door and I had to sit down on a bench. The Computer Geek was very nice, even rubbed my little ankle.

When I felt brave enough, I decided it was time to get this show back on the road. Stood up testing my stability. Then this is where the evening turned. The Computer Geek asked if he could kiss me. I said yes, thinking a small peck since I was injured, right. No, it turned into full-on makeout. Not terribly thrilled with that. Then as we continued walking toward our vehicles, he made a comment that I was a good kisser and he was sure I was good in bed too. That was when the antenna came up. When we went off in our separate ways, he offered to take me to my car but I declined. He also said he wanted to see me again.

Everything was good until that last part where the 'good in bed' comment came hurling out into the night air. Is it worth establishing boundaries? Or let this encounter die a quick and painless death? Of course, Montana Man was curious and when I told him about the comment, he stated the guy was tipsy (as he did have a vodka martini after the wine) and his filter wasn't fully operational, that I should cut him some slack and no kissing next time. I don't know if it is worth it or not. What do you think?

the many creepy-crawlies of atx

Stepford is under siege; as if to be subject to a succession of invasions. Upon arriving at Stepford after class last night, I entered the master bath only to almost step on a gecko. I only let out a startled little yelp. Clearly, I am becoming immune to creepy crawlies. Rather than go into my typical melt down, I immediately sprung into action to relocate the critter. However, the clacking of my shoes scared little gecko into hiding behind the toilet.

I went about my evening as I knew he would eventually mobilize. Closing down Stepford for the evening, I notice a scurry in the hallway. It is the gecko! I race to the bedroom to fetch my ingenious gecko relocation device, a tupperware container and piece of paper. All the while, my trusty sidekick is on my heels. With a fluid motion, the gecko is trapped under the container. Wiggling the paper under the container proved to be a bit of a challenge because the little gecko was mighty jumpy. I am positive my trusty sidekick's unwavering gaze on the gecko did not help to alleve it's stress level. Scooting the occupied gecko device across the living room floor, we finally made it to the back door where I did my best to secure the device and tossed the gecko out the door into the warm night air. I did not see where the gecko landed as the pesky motion controlled light in the back yard did not register the movement, but then again it rarely registers motion. I was victorious! Pasty - 1, gecko - 0.

Imagine my surprise this morning when I saw something scurry in the master bedroom closet. Yes, there were actually two geckos in Stepford. Only one remains. However, this evening, the sole survivor shall be joining his brother outside via the gecko relocation device. Slowly but surely, I am becoming a Texan.

weather outlook

It appears an invasion is set to occur here at Stepford. You may find yourself thinking What is this girl talking about? An invasion? in Central Texas?

Yes, an invasion, otherwise known as my parents coming to visit. They arrived last November as a complete and utter surprise. This time I have received prior notice. I am happy with the arrival of 2/3 of the parties - my father and my Juju. However, the other third of the equation, the little black rain cloud, my mother is the one I am dreading.

I am not in the mood for the little black rain cloud to position it's negativity over Stepford. Everything is a complaint. Everything is wrong. The damn glass is always half empty and a bit dirty too. I am not in the frame of mind to deal with it. I have already started laying out the boundaries that she will surely ignore, but I have set the stage.

But how do you tell your mother to stay home as only 2/3 of the family equation is welcome. Just like the age old question of how many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop... the world may never know.

may-be-gone

Recently I have been feeling alone. The alone-ness that complements feeling helpless. It is especially troubling to me because I never have felt this way before. I am an overly independent woman who can do anything.

But lately I have been feeling my limitations. Reaching the realizations. It started with moving house coupled with Lulu's adventures in snake charming gone bad. Then trying to wrangle up furniture via craigslist. Toss in Lulu having simultaneous puke and diarrhea fest. Clearly, May was a roller coaster ride in my small corner of the universe.

I learned I don't ask for help and furthermore it is very difficult for me to ask. I have been spoiled to the n-th degree having my father just quick car ride away. He always solves my problems, always helps. He is my rock; the one person I can count on no matter what.

In my many May hours of need, sure, my father was only a phone call away, but he couldn't swoop in and solve the problem because he is 1,000 miles away. That is when the feeling of being utterly alone overcame me.

I realize though that I did live through the roller coaster ride, but it wasn't as easy as I have grown accustom to. There aren't any givens. Particularly when Lulu was spewing out both end, I made too many phone calls to my girls down here trying to find someone who would simply run to the CVS to pick up Imodium for me because even a short car ride was out of the question. No one would do it. At my wits end, I called yet another girlfriend expecting a similar response as the others, but immediately she said yes. I was beyond thankful that someone answered my distressed cries, but at the same time, disappointed in others.

May's lessons were humbling. I have to get better at asking because I cannot do everything by myself. This is uncharted territory.

hound dog

Lulu is doing much better.

I took her home last Friday. She continues eat copious amounts of antibiotics, but she is healing quite nicely. Of course, Lulu is not fond of her floatation device (in lieu of a traditional cone) but I remain highly amused with it.

Here's a snap so you can join in my amusement!

drama mama

drama.

that best sums up the past few days.

What started off on Friday morning as an innocent weekend adventure to H-town turned into my pup girl Lulu being hospitalized and me being left with zero answers.

I dropped off my Lulu at 7 AM on Friday to stay at the boutique vet/kennel that she has stayed at before. I figured if I get to have a fun weekend away to eat my way thru Houston, then Lulu should also enjoy her stay at the doggie spa.

Friday night around 6, I receive a call from the vet. A simple call informing me that Lulu received her kennel cough shot and trying to up sell me on blood work services for senior dogs. The entire point here is that at 6 PM my dog was still healthy. Cue me being annoyed at vet for calling for nonsensical reasons while I am on holiday.

Saturday morning, another call from the vet. This time I am informed that Lulu has a cut on her leg, is limping and the vet would like my permission to start IV fluids on her. The vet tells me this is free because the injury occurred while she was in their care. I think the vet is being overzealous as the previous evening they were concerned over ear wax, so I give my consent. Continue eating and shopping through Houston.

Sunday morning, I was not fast enough to the phone and missed the Lulu update call. I listen to the voice message and grow alarmed when the vet states "possible snake bite." My alarm grows and festers. I finally break down and call the vet office only to find that the office is closed so I call the emergency number. The woman at the emergency hospital is understanding and tracks down one of the vets for me. It is the primary vet, the owner of the hospital - where the snake bite concerns are dismissed.

I see my girl on Sunday evening. It was terrible. Lulu's leg looked horrendous. Raw ground beef. Her leg swollen hugely. She had a wild look in her eyes, did not recognize me, an IV in her leg. She was on massive, massive quantities of pain killers and antibiotics.

The vets state that they do not know what is wrong or what happened. The only story I get is they saw her limping, found a puncture wound, and then it manifested into what I found. Personally, the vets are covering up the incident. The more I press, the less interaction they have with me. I believe with all my heart, it was a venomous snake bite.

My girl is doing better. I should be able to take her home in the next few days. We spend about an hour together every day. I have documented everything with photos. I have asked vets back home to evaluate what they see in the photos and in her medical records. The problem is in the mile high city, snake bites are rare.

As if that wasn't enough keep-me-up-at-night drama, I have to move tomorrow. In one day. By myself. Be out of the old house complete with cleaning and into the new place. tomorrow.

When it rains, it pours. But at least tomorrow will be over before I know it. On to greener pastures.

movin' on up

i am moving. staying in atx but to a newer home.

give me a BIG AMEN!!

i will be out of the ghetto soon. much sooner than anticipated if i have my ways.

i no longer have to be afraid for my safety with that crappy front door.

the puppies will have a real back yard with real grass... no more big pile of dirt and rocks.

i am over the moon that i will have a professional landlord instead of the dumb bitch who got way too greedy and wanted to gouge me. a word to the wise - never piss off a scorpio.

papers are signed. checks written. i am out of the ghetto.

for the first time, in an extremely long time, i slept like a baby in this dump.

I am home this week.


I haven't been home for a sizable stretch of time in 13 months. It feels very odd to be back in my home. Compared to my little Austin hole-in-the-wall place, my home is a mcmansion. The pups are absolutely ecstatic to be home. My depressed little pup has come back to life in the days since returning home. I knew she hated Texas and her turn around only serves to validate that.


If I could pickup my home and plop it down in Austin, everything would be perfect. I could enjoy my wonderful friends and balanced life in Austin while have a comfortable warm living space.


But life is not perfect.

it's practically free

We all have something we are known for. A survival skill, if you will. Something that is simply "your thing" and others are always amazed by. It truly is a hallmark.

Hallmarks can vary. Some people save the world with their kryptonite strength. Others clean parks.

My hallmark is shopping. Specifically bargain hunting tactical shopping. Over the weekend, I successfully scooped up all sort of material goodies that I do not need. But the price was right, the label was good, therefore the price became even better.

My mantra is "it's practically free" and it truly is, so I cannot leave the top/pants/shoes/undies behind.

Now for a point of clarification, I do not simply buy for purchasing sake. I am actually selective and do not rack up the credit card or purchase constantly. It has be marked down several times and then some before an item makes the big trip home with me.

However, I have enjoyed wearing the new items all week. Even got to break in a new dress on Saturday at a birthday party.

The thing is I do get everything at wonderful prices, up to 90% off of retail. I always look good and have a lot of clothing; however, I don't spend near what it looks like I do on all of it. I do believe it has a lot to do with my attitude toward it - the bargains jump at me - and I have realized I think it has a lot to do with my mantra. The more I say "it's practically free," the more of this I stumble upon.

While I do love the clothes and the shoes, I have realized it all about how these items make me feel. They enable me to have confidence in myself. They are the boost to my fragile ego. They make me feel good about myself.

What I don't know is whether that is a good thing or not.

the return

I am back home. The trip was short but absolutely hands-down jam packed. I am exhausted, drained on all fronts - physically, mentally, emotionally. I feel like a glob of goo.

I feel very positive for Alexander's future. The surgery was a bear but seeing in the day after surgery and watching his progress made my heart sing.

The mini-retreat was very good. Lots of eye opening, many releases. I think release is going to be my theme word for awhile. The retreat setting was nothing short of amazing. Heaven on earth does exist because I was dwelling in it this weekend.

This morning there was a lovely and long email from The Southern Gentleman waiting for me. Maybe transformation is afoot in the universe?

good night my little chickadees!

time in hospitals

2009 has definitely started off with a bang!

It has been busier than I'd like with all sorts of medical crap. Everywhere I turn, it seems there is a 911 issue popping up.

First it was poor Edina taking a graceful fall at the rollerskating rink. The evening ended with a broken wrist, which required surgery of pins and plates to put it back together.

Next up, overlapping a bit with Eddie, was Alexander and his gallbladder. It required removal on the same day Eddie's pins and plates were added. Just when we were relieved that the pesky gallbladder was gone and Alexander and I would be on for our vision quest weekend, poof! Alexander's phone rings. His surgeon bore the news that Alexander's gallbladder was full of cancer. Yes. Cancer.

When I received that tidbit via voice mail, I felt all the air leave my lungs and the room itself. Shock, baby. My dear Alexander only just turned 33 at the beginning of the year. Disbelief ran high as Alexander and I have been friends since I was 17 years old. Our lives have taken us all over the space/time continuum but our friendship has only strengthened.

After a weekend of phone tag, we finally had a conversation on Sunday afternoon. We talked about the specifics. His first surgery was scheduled for the Saturday of our retreat. Since it has been moved again to tomorrow. I am happy that I am flying into LAX and will get to see him on Friday, even though he will be post-op.

My Alexander. After our conversation, I know he is going to be okay. I am happy with the timing as I feel it is crucially important that he and I are together, even if only for a few hours, through this. Our bond is one of those indescribable bonds.

He is going to be on bed rest for quite some time. I am going to go visit him and check in on him during that time. A few weekends to Cali isn't much. But more importantly, from the minute I received the news, thoughts of all my missteps with Goofy Buddy came to the forefront. I will not repeat that.

So Friday, I get to continue my court jester duties as I have for Edina's confinement. I cannot wait to see my Alexander and give him lots of grief about the hospital gown and the parts it doesn't cover... which is especially fitting since he is a gay man!