Thursday, August 31, 2006

for Nathaniel

Tuesday night I had a fretful time falling to sleep and dreamt of my ex-fiance when I finally nodded off. Not knowing he'd left a voicemail on my charging and therefore turned off cell phone shortly before I went to bed. There's a vein in my life of mild clairvoyance. Awareness of things in my world prior to them actually making themselves known.

But that isn't what this is about. This is about Nate, or to Nate, or for Nate, though he'll never read it (unless I am struck with selfish meanness and send it to him.)

When we were talking yesterday it felt like old times- just you and me on the phone. It felt good and I wanted to talk to you more. What can I say- I didn't leave because I didn't love you. I left because I was homesick and having cold-feet anxiety attacks that got worse and worse and I couldn't make them stop.
After I left I wanted to talk you but I was afraid of what you might say, I didn't know what to say, and I decided to suppress any desire to talk to you because I had caused you enough pain; in other words, I thought, I left and now I have to stick by my decision-if I start changing my mind it's only going to be cruel to Nate. As if the way I left wasn't cruel but at the time it was all I could do and in the immediate weeks after I left I was in shock my self.
It's only now, five months down the road, that the dust is clearing and I am thinking Oh my God, I just up and left? I can't believe I made you wake up into - finding your fiance gone. What hell that must have been.
You see, for all the things I thought were problems, I got all wrapped up in myself.
I loved you. I got so scared and caught up in it that I forgot the importance of how I still loved to sit on your lap and cuddle, to make you nourishing dinners and cinnamon rolls, to cuddle you when you came to bed in the morning, to sit at your feet and watch dvd series together while you played with my hair, to watch your expressions at the movie theater, to hold hands and rub feet under your parents dining room table, to ride somewhere listening to Car Talk or short stories on NPR, to snuggle with you after sex, to wash your hair in the shower, to go grocery shopping with you, to go for walks and listen to your stories, to skip over to Gifford's or Soup for You or the Homestead in the morning for breakfast before you went to sleep, to be there when you woke up, to go camping or hiking, to make out any old place, (including sex in your front seat at the drive-in theater on my birthday), to have Christmas and Thanksgiving with you, to stack the wood you split in the cold air.
Everything we did together- miniature golf, bowling, driving range, cooking, WalMart, ordering out, staying in- we had fun together. Every thing. How did I lose the importance of that? When did I stop asking you to go for a walk or to play cards? When did we stop getting naked all over one another outside?
I miss your parents and your brothers and sisters and your grandparents. I missed Jebediah graduating high school. I missed celebrating your black belt with you.
I sometimes wonder, what would have changed if I'd gone to church with you that last Sunday or if I'd tried to talk to Father Roger about my fears.
I had a rough summer- I was very suicidal for a while and depressed but I brought it on myself- who knows what you went through because of me. I'd been doing okay, moving on, but talking to you yesterday made me want to talk to you again.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

All or Nothing Karen.

Two nights ago I dreamt of my exfiance and of his family. Last night I dreamt of my ex-fiance. This morning I had a voicemail left last night while my phone was charging.
It was my ex-fiance, asking if he can send any of my things. I was able to call him back on my lunch break today. It was the first time we spoke since the emotionally horrid weekend in May that I moved out of the apartment in Maine. ( I purposely left some of my things for him to use- some furniture, my radio, drinking glasses. Other things I forgot like two serving trays I adore and the Lenox bud vase my mom gave me for Christmas four years ago.)
Oh, I called his cell phone once or twice over the summer to try and reach him.

It was great to hear him again and he talked with me some too. I miss all the good we had and if I have to forcefully refocus myself. Even that doesn't totally work. What does work is remembering how much I hurt him and how unfair and unkind it would be to put myself back into his life after what I did.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

equinox musings

I am feeling unequivocably lazy this week (unintentionally outdoing last week's lassitude?)
Like all else, there is a time for industry, and a time for relaxation and content.
A time for multitasking and a time for taking stock and gearing up for the next big energy burst.
The seasons are readying to change; so too am I.

I've continued to run the engagement and leaving through my head- it's kind of constant circulation until the puzzle is solved. Well, today it dawned on me - I left because my gut knew I could not for the rest of my life continue to be who and what I was in that relationship. Finito.

The millions of reasons and problems not solved that snowballed- they are why I could not sign myself up to be that person for life- but the final reason, the real driving force, is the fact that my gut knew what my head and heart couldn't see and wouldn't admit; I couldn't truly be myself and it had already gone on far too long.

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Just for fun...

I did another. Actuall rather accurate.

Men See You As Understated
You are an intreguing mix of girl and woman.
You're feminine, quiet, and a total mystery to most men. Yet they often feel the urge to protect you, even if they don't know you.
You *are* a flirt, but you usually only flirt with those you know well.

~ morning coffee ~

* "And the rain, rain, rain came down, down, down... ."

It seems I am going to grow my hair out again; ergo, I am willingly going to look like a neglected chia pet for the next year. That is my life- over grown shrubbery with brief hiatuses of well kept- I grow it, I cut it, I grow it, repeat.
I've been asked more than twice what super power I would have for myself and never can answer; how silly. I've got two.
First, to borrow from Inspector Gadget, I want the ability to extend my arms and legs at will to get the box of frozen peas off the top shelf in the freezer, to reach things on the counter while maintaining my hold on a surgical site, to reach the touch lamp from the far left corner- and only comfy divot on the futon- of my bed when I hit the ultimate cozy position in full lamplight.
To maintain visibility in a crowd! To see the band instead of some mans' sweaty back. To see the Penn Station exit not backsides and diaper bags.
Second, to grow my hair with arm abductions. Who remembers the commercials for the doll whose hair grew when you pumped her arm? I'd have locks to my waist in ten minutes! Cool!

You Are a Plain Ole Cup of Joe
But don't think plain - instead think, uncomplicated.
You're a low maintenance kind of girl... who can hang with the guys.
Down to earth, easy going, and fun! Yup, that's you: the friend everyone invites.
And your dependable too. Both for a laugh and a sympathetic ear.

An aside- my younger cat is cracked. Oh, I love her and I'm proud of her like any cat mama- but she's a bit of an egghead. A few nuggets short of a full box of kibble.

*(as sung on an original Winnie the Pooh record)

Saturday, August 26, 2006

A Saturday evening's musings

My sister has this cat that feels like a sack of silky cartilage when you pick her up - her meow is the cry of a baby doll turned up side down, or a real baby in the tightest corset.
Labor Day is coming again and with it our shore is returned to us- even though I'm a clamdigger in bennie clothing, rolling about with Maine license plates, I was, like it or not, born and raised three miles from this seashore. I know what these towns looked like 25 years ago and almost every year since. The wood floored over priced restaurant in Manasquan wasn't long ago a dust covered dark laundromat where I played Frogger in the early 80's while our clothes rolled in warm places and my parents waited for a new dryer (and I waited for a new box to play in).
The molded plastic swing set at Orchard Park once had jagged screws and rusty chains like those that tore off my cuticles in childhood. There was a merry go round there, too, on concrete- I remember falling off the edge and landing on my head when I was six during my mom's softball practice. Mom never knew about that one!
And the houses you live in? The developments you call home? One was a patch of woods where kids rode dirt bikes and smoked cigarettes- other things too I'm sure- lit fires, made out (made babies?), drank beer and left the cans. Another was a working apple orchard with a friendly horse. That's why you have a road named Old Orchard Lane.
Have you ever seen Grosse Pointe Blank? (great movie!) Do you remember when John Cusack goes to visit his childhood home and finds ... a convenience store in its place? Sometimes living back here feels a little like that and I laugh. Well, sometimes I cry first. But when I make the reference, I laugh.


All is wet, coming in pinpricks of cold on my cheeks; the leaves are dark green, cars spraying puddles on the lawns and pedestrians. In turqouise T-shirt and khaki capris I'm slightly chilled by breezes coming freely in. The cats lie easy, curled in C's in kitchen chairs.
Tonight will be the slumber of cool cotton striped sheets and fabric softened two seasons worn in two piece pajamas, snuggling in deep under my blue-flowered quilt.

Friday, August 25, 2006


I have a best friend who is also my cousin but feels like a sister we grew up so closely- sometimes I find myself thinking of her as my sister until I remember we are cousins!
We are mostly all grown up now at 29 and 32, and still we get the giggles together; the giggles that leave us lying on our backs gasping between the stomach cramps, the giggles that are so good we egg each other on and put up with the cramps just to keep the laughter going.
When is the last time you laughed so hard you couldn't even breathe and loved every minute of it?

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Spraying the sky

One of the absolutely coolest beans things ever about living in a house in West Long Branch, north of the scungy parts and one block from the beach- besides being one block from the beach and the ocean breezes billowing my lacy white curtains out into my Westport Blue bedroom in the fall and spring-
was being able to watch Long Branch town fireworks from; the front lawn, the glassed in front room, my bed.
Very cool.
Always a sweet surprise to suddenly hear fireworks happening and plunk down on my quilt to enjoy.
I was reminded again of this when I came out of WalMart and found the weekly Point Pleasant fireworks happening far beyond the parking lot.

Up in Industry, Maine there is a farm that lets out it's fields every July for Independence Day fireworks- we're talking hundreds of cars. I sat on the roof of my car reading a book and eating my snack for two 1/2 hours, listening to kids running around the field, the laughter and companionship of innocent tailgate parties.
And then the deepest, biggest, loudest, most colorful fireworks I ever remember seeing. May have been the environment rubbed off on my perception of the display.
(I miss that state.)

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Odds and Dead Ends

After my session at the gym last night I swung over to the inlet and laughed after getting out of the car and walking a few steps- my quads were so plumb tired my body wanted to fall down at the knees. In Tae Kwon Do I learned the 'so glad I came to class today' drill- and it's awesome on the thighs; go down into a normal stepping front lunge, hold for 3-5 seconds, then in controlled fashion stand bringing the rear leg up in front in a high kick, and down in front into your next lunge- Repeat around the room. Love 'em!
For one summer, years ago, I went with a boy named Jason- the experience left with little other than intimate knowlegde of the inner workings of a bowling alley, and my first glimpse of phosphorescent jelly fish which hail our way in late August (which I accidentally saw last night- lovely to watch them nestled down among the rocks in the dark water, lighting up every time the water rolled over.)
Thinking of Jason and the bowling makes me ponder the lives I've been privy to through my relationships. I've dated a many-years-clean-and-sober rehabilitated heroine addict, a Radio Shack manager, an artist, a bowling couch potato computer buff who went on to make a very sweet salary, a nurse's aide, a Volkswagen Bug afficiando business man, a jobless weed smoker, an employed high school teaching (what the hell DID he teach? ) weed smoking deer hunter... and many more but I think my brain is sparing me the recall.

Saturday, August 19, 2006

A bike ride

My boss is a wonderful team player. He appreciates his staff and expresses his gratitude every single day.
Every Friday he asks us each personally what our plans are for the weekend (as every Monday he asks each one of us what we did over the weekend, and how it went.)
I told him that I hope to go for some bike rides, since it didn't work out last weekend. (after I left work last weekend I started feeling feverish and a little odd- I spent the night and all weekend dehydrating myself with one mother of a virus.)
I told him how I've loved riding a bike since a was a kid, how happy I feel every time I'm out, how I bought myself a good bike a few years ago but just don't get out;
and he told me about the bike he bought himself when he was coming out of med school, over twenty years ago. Same bike he just had refurbished- frame in fabulous shape, needed new parts. Same bike he rides several mornings a week.
And then his face lit up and excited energy suffused him as he spoke of the wind through his hair, rushing around a turn-and concurrently in myself rose the thrill of speed, of human power, of being out in the elements just you and the bike and the ground under your tires, the earth flashing by on both sides because with every muscle in your body you are flying.

Friday, August 18, 2006

notes from August 1st

How can I feel so young and so old in the same morning?
Young- my life agead of am me barely half there decades ahead and room to be something new twice in each one.
(In my twenties I was seven different girlfriends. I went to college and dropped out. I became a nurse. I moved out of Moms'. I moved to Pennsylvania and Maine. I lived with Jason. I moved in with Nate. I bought a horse and started Tae Kwon Do and learned to kayak. I got my first passport. I had my first plane ride. I got raped. I lost 10 pounds. I gave blood. I taught myself how to bake bread and sew blankets. I adopted my cats. I owned my first rat, raised over fifty fancy mice, and buried a fish. I learned to like fish to eat. I started to run.)

Old- watching Jill come home from out all night no wrinkles in her face slimmer hips like I had once- but I had my chance. I was 26 once too and staying out all night just because the fun was too good to sleep, and coming home at dawn to nap.
I had my time to be 26, and it was good.

And here right now is all I need- muscular calves coming out the ends of rolled up pants legs pores tingling with melanin release, book half lifting off my thighs in the morning wind, eyes closed to the sun falling over me, flames from far away.

Will I sit some day curled up in your a sweatshirt of yours?
I remember sharing my blue fleece mittens on the inlet, one for me and one for you. I think your arm was in a sling.

Monday, August 07, 2006

You're a good man Charlie Brown.

Many a good word for Mike who did call me at 12:45 that following morning and did make plans with me for last night. In the end the whole thing didn't work out- but what a sweet, gentle, fun,loving and repsectful man he is.
It ended very amicably- it's a shame we can't stay friends but I've pulled that off just once in my life; and often over the four years since, there have been rough spots requiring serious elbow grease.
So amicably it came to a close- not quite there enough for either of us. It happens.

Friday, August 04, 2006

Back in the saddle again

aka Dumb fucking saddle aka Don't let the door hit you in the ass- Oh, that's my ass the door is hitting, right where your boot struck it!
So, it was great for a few days; we had chemistry, he liked me and the sound of my voice, called me lots, kissed me and didn't try anything else. He thought I was cute, told his friends about me, took me to watch his softball team.
We shot hoops, snuggled on the couch, flirted on-line... until he asked me if I was on birth control, and I had to tell him what I'd planned to tell him in person tomorrow, what you don't tell a man on a first date or even a second. I can't have kids. Just can't. And there it ended.
Best to get it out of the way now I guess.