Wednesday, October 31, 2012

An embarrassing confession...

Well, the confession isn't so embarrassing as the moment, and even that, in the larger scheme of things, isn't *THAT* embarrassing... except it is a little.

So, I told you a month or so ago that I put a sign on my wall.  I live alone.  I have few guests in my home, and sadly none that go into my bedroom.  So whatever I post on the wall with blue painter's tape is pretty much guaranteed to be seen only by me.

And IF there is such an occasion when someone else might come by, well, a quick tug on the sign can always be done.

If I remember.

And if I notice.

My house is a hodge podge of remodelled and added on to parts.  My bedroom, for example, is definitely not original, and is MUCH better insulated than most of the house.  And it wasn't necessarily designed as a bedroom, given that what looks like a closet is actually where the furnace and hot water heater are.

So, when I came home recently from a weekend trip away, and discovered my furnace wasn't working, I called my landlord.

I did do a little tidying in the rest of the house, and made sure there was a clear easy path to the door to the room where the furnace is.  Moved the trunk that usually sits in front of the door since it only gets opened a few times a year (at most).

And the landlord called a guy who does furnaces.  And the furnace guy came.

And only after he had left, later that evening, did I notice that I still had the sign on the wall..


I'm thinking if I didn't notice, maybe he didn't.  But who knows?

And who knows what he thinks about a woman who isn't the most tidy with a sign in big black sharpie that says, "Before I go to bed at night, I will clean my sink!"  Particularly when it was clear that the sink might have been (and it wasn't) the only thing that was clean...

Oh well.

Back to your original program now...

Sock Alley

I have been writing way too many serious posts lately, and think it's overdue to share something silly with you instead.

So, my bed is basically the width of my nightstand away from one of the walls.  And even though there's this wide open area on the other side to get in and out of my bed, for some strange reason, I find myself crawling into and out of bed closest to the wall, and end up sleeping more on that side-ish than on the other.  I kinda sleep in the middle of the bed, but lean more towards the wall side.

I'm sure those who love to analyze things could come up with all sorts of insights about this information - and some of you, intent on tracking me down, could use this vital information to pinpoint specifically WHO I am.  I worry about these things... Well, no.  Not really... but it's fun to tease some of you.

In the meantime... I used to be a person who would ALWAYS wear socks.  ALWAYS.  Even when I wasn't wearing anything else, and doing things, that, um, most people wouldn't expect socks to be worn.  I thought of it as my trademark.  Well, no, not really - but if women were trading notes about me, I'm sure that would have been one of the things they'd mention.  That, and a particular mole in a particular spot... but, I digress.

At some point in time, and I don't remember when, I stopped so religiously needing my socks on.  In fact, I frequently find myself pushing socks off in bed and kicking them to the bottom of the bed... It is guaranteed, then, that when you change my sheets, there will probably be a sock or two (okay, or more) in the sheets.  It's only been in the last few years that this has happened. 

Now, however, I have mastered the sweep kick.  You know the one.  The one whereby - either conscious or unconscious - I sweep my leg across the bottom of the bed, and kick out all those pesky socks that have been gathering.  I don't get them all.  But I get many of them.

For those of you new to the Borg Blog - I am single and I live alone, and I am NOT OCD tidy.  Not by a long shot.  I'm not growing cultures - well, at least not outside the fridge - and I would say that there is a greater percentage of floor space that is free and open than what is not.  Counter and table space - well.. I can't make the same claim.  But where I'm going with this is that, the picture I am painting, is that I'm not about to quickly pick up the used socks and put them into the hamper. 

So, the point is, that I noticed the other day that the space between my bed and the wall has kinda become sock alley.  There are socks of various colors (all the same size - they're all mine) strewn across the lane like leaves falling from trees in this space between my bed and the wall.

Yeah.  That's it.  That's the whole point of this silly post.  To share Sock Alley with you.

You are welcome.  ;)

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Awards and Accolades!

Okay.  If any of you knew me IRL and went to my notes in Facebook, you would see that I have never answered the ABCs of me, or any of that stuff.  Mostly because I think it's a mining expedition for identity theft.  And even the questions that my fellow blogger, Chemgirljaime, answered (your porn star name) also bordered on identity theft to promote my point.  But, I have decided to set aside my curmudgeon ways for one brief moment because none of her questions would promote identity theft, and even if they did, you don't know my identity, so it would be harder for you to steal it anyway.  None of them give up my identity... (Jenga and all that).

So there's this thing going around bloggers called the Liebster Award (and I just naturally think Lobster award in my head when I read it, and wonder where the butter sauce is... probably insulting dear Mr. or Ms. Liebster for whom it was named...).  And I apologize because I don't think Jaime is the first person to award it (or something like it to me), but she's persistent, and still believes in the good in the world and in other people - or at least me - and I don't have the heart to disillusion her at THIS moment in time.  Y'know the excited puppy who just wants you to play ball with them... :)  So, I'll play ball.  I won't tell her how many hours Chinese kids had to work their fingers to the bone for pennies an hour to make the ball she wants to play with.  I'll be nicer than that, and play along, instead. 


So, like a chain letter, you're supposed to choose other victims folks to award it to, and your own set of questions to answer for them.  Even my friend acknowledges it is Blog Fodder in her post. 

If someone really wants to be awarded the Liebster Award, e-mail me, and I'll fix the contest with the judges, and make sure you have an award of your very own. 

If not.. well...

1. If you had the choice to know when you were going to die or not to know, what would you choose?  I don't need to know when I'll die.  It will happen when it will happen.  Knowing about it doesn't change that.  Although, separately, for an interesting perspective on that, check out the cancelled series from ABC - Flash Forward.  You can find it on Hulu...
2. Favorite flavor of ice cream?  Strawberry cheesecake from Cold Stone Creamery (although way too expensive)

3. Panda or Rhino? Which would I want as a pet? Which would I rather be? Who would I rather pet?  Well, I think panda is the answer to any variation of whatever the question was supposed to be. 

4. How many times a day do you swear? ..and if you don't swear... then wtf is wrong with you?  You expect me to count? I have better things to do with my time.  Like swear, I guess.  ;)

5. If you could change one thing about yourself.. be it something about your personality or a part of your body... what would it be? I could always use more patience. 

6. Favorite movie?  There are a lot.  The Notebook has certainly been one.  There are several posts where I talk about some of my favorite movies.

7. Most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you.. or most embarrassing thing you've ever witnessed (if you're too chickenshit to share about yourself)  Spending the night at a local bed and breakfast one summer night and therefore packing lightly (if rather non-existently) and wearing white shorts and getting my period unprepared.  Pooping in my pants in Montessori school because the token we were supposed to use to go to the bathroom one at a time was already taken.  I'm sure there are several other things, but those two should suffice the curious...

8. If you could be any kind of animal, mineral or vegetable on the planet (or any other planet).. what would you be?  As I have left as a comment on Jaime's blog already, I already think I'm Venus, so...?

If anyone really wants to become tagged, I'll come up with some creative questions if I must.  But just because I throw the ball for the puppy doesn't mean I have to be the one to retrieve it, does it? ;)

Friday, October 26, 2012

The Not So Fuzzy Details

From my friend Hetty.. See last post for the fuzzy version, cautionary tale, and plea for help. (On phone now will update later with link, but you can navigate!)

If you want to provide update, I will give you some information if you want to share.

what i have is a cerebral csf leak. when they were doing the original surgery to fix my septum they found a deterioration of my skull (bone) which was literally a hole in my head the size of a golf ball. a second surgery got it down to a pencil point or a bit smaller than an eraser head. the leak continues. the "headaches" which are spinal headaches (much more severe than migraines) are 24/7 as you know and typically at a level 4-5 consistently, but spike to 10+ if I have been vertical for too long, or if the weather changes, or if i've overexerted, or just because......

since the head trauma in 1999 (undiagnosed skull fracture) that just grew larger from the "rotting infection" that was building in my head and the sinus blockage and infection was significant, they determined i have suffered many concussive episodes due to the lack of cerebral spinal fluid. one doctor described it as a roll being bounced around inside a concrete box. i was a runner for many of those years.....imagine that impact!

there are no guarantees that any procedure will be a permanent repair or that the bone wont deteriorate more - or again. there is a risk of meningitis,but i think compared to the risks of "opening my skull and pushing my brain out of the way to rebuild the bone", it is a minimal one. the other option is to repeat the surgeries they have already performed through the sinus cavity, again with no guarantee.

that should give you a clearer picture of what is happening with my swiss cheese brain.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Between a Rock and a Hard Place - One Cup at a Time

Alt. Title: Quack!

I have a friend of mine who has found herself between a rock and a hard place.  And I write this post both as a cautionary tale, but also as a plea for help.  Because frankly, this story breaks my heart, and I feel helpless, otherwise, to help her, so I am hoping that together we might be able to make a difference for someone who could really use it.

My friend was metaphorically hit by a truck last November.  I am not a doctor, and I don't pretend to understand half of what she does choose to share with me regarding the details, and frankly, she's a fairly private person, so she doesn't share many of the details.  But what details I can remember of provide have to do with several surgeries including on the thin membrane between sinuses and the brain - and I think - but maybe I made this up in my horror - brain fluid leaking into the sinuses.  I know my imagination contrived what I think was a real possibility that she could sneeze out grey matter.  Either way, apparently, that membrane does not heal itself and cannot be repaired.  There were also complications from surgery, and further heart issues developing, although I'm not sure if those are related to the first part or something completely new just for fun. 

Frankly, while all of the above is fuzzy, the pertinent detail is that she has had some significant health issues in the last twelve months and they are not yet resolved.  The last recommendation by her doctor was that she should go visit some experts at the Mayo Clinic, and she was waiting to hear back from them when all of this happened.

At the time she was hit by the metaphoric truck, she was working in sales for a small-medium sized local company.  She did what most of us would do, and took sick leave, and then vacation leave, and then her company did what most companies would do and put her FMLA leave.  At one point she thought she was able to return to work, and I think the first time she did, she was back for a week and then some of those other complications mentioned above arose, and she had to take off again, and then exhausted her FMLA leave, but eventually returned to work with limited duty.  (Again, some of these details may be off or not quite right, but the exact details or sequence frankly isn't important here, so bear with me that I have a fuzzy knowledge... ). 

We actually went to lunch together on the day she finally returned to work in May.  When she returned to the office, the IT guy was in her office and locking down her laptop, and asking for her phone.  She was let go that day, and has been unemployed since.

Now, on these next details, I'm a little anxious to write out because I'm not sure what the current status of things are for her legally regarding unemployment and disability and I don't want to write the wrong thing and then have that used against her later.  At first, she thought that she was capable to work - part of the reason she returned to work - but as time has gone on and medical issues have continued, it has become clear that she is not able to work. 

For the first few months, her COBRA payments were being paid, but given her confirmed incapacity to work, she is not eligible for unemployment benefits, and if she were to apply for disability, she cannot apply before a year has passed (this next month) and apparently it takes up to eighteen months to process, all while receiving no payments.  The source of payment for her COBRA payments has now ceased, and she feels that she has no choice but to let her COBRA lapse.  She has no income. 

This potential scares me to no end.  Given her existing medical complications and issues, trying to get insurance again other than through an employer will be impossible or prohibitively expensive - and I don't pretend to understand the current status regarding exceptions for pre-existing conditions.  Regardless of future insurance, she still needs medical treatment NOW.  She needs to go to the Mayo Clinic NOW.  She needs medications NOW.  And she can't afford any of them. 

The cautionary tale here is while the duck may seem cute in the AFLAC commercials, having short-term disability insurance is invaluable.  Her company neither provided short-term or long-term disability insurance, so she has nothing now that she can rely on.  She has depleted much of her savings, and would rather dedicate what remains to food on the table and a roof over her head.  (This is why *I* don't have health insurance currently)  If your employer offers you an option for short-term disability insurance, take it.  And companies, if you can, offer your employees this opportunity, and provide long term disability insurance for them.

Because an unexpected health issue can destroy your life without them and make an already difficult situation that much harder by complicating the financial situation of someone who is already going through a difficult life-threatening condition. 

I have prayed on this matter and would give her what little savings I have accrued in order to help cover her insurance.  She is a proud woman who I know is still struggling to figure out how she got into this situation, but still determined, somehow, to take care of herself.  *SHE* is not looking for hand-outs.  She won't take my limited reserve.  A month ago, I offered to do a community fundraiser for her but she didn't want to be seen as a victim (my words, not hers).  She doesn't want to ask for help.  She doesn't really want to take help that is already being given to her.  But I don't want to see her have to handle the additional stress that all of this - and in particular going without health insurance - and what it will do to her. 

She is one of my Jenga pieces and has already known about this blog.  With still much reluctance, she has agreed to allow me to do a solicitation for her anonymously to help her pay her health insurance.  Even that, neither of us feel particularly comfortable.  But I hope by now, readers, you trust that I would not scam you.

But I am asking for your help.  She's set up a PayPal account using the e-mail address (Yes, she's an NCIS LA fan - apparently my real life friends choose CBS shows for their pseudonyms).  I think that's all the identifying information you need to send money through PayPal, but if I am wrong, please advise.  So, I ask you if you have a PayPal account*, to send her the cost of a cup of coffee you might otherwise spend today.  Or a week's worth of coffees.  I don't have *that* many readers, so I don't know if this will do anything more than cover another month of her health insurance, but I can't stand by and do nothing, and even then another miracle could occur with the additional time.  Her situation breaks my heart, and while she doesn't want my pity, and really doesn't want my help, she can't do this alone. 

So.. forgive me for asking, but if you can help, it would be appreciated.  If you can re-tweet this post or put it on Facebook, to widen the audience, then maybe we can work a miracle.  Certainly, if you are able, and willing to provide more, it would be wonderful - but I know that times are tight for us all, many around us are in need, and I am asking you to take on faith the story of my friend.  So I won't ask for more than a cup of coffee - or a week of coffee, but I don't want to discourage those of you who can and would do more. 

Over to the right, at the top, there is a link to share on various social media.  Please do so.  Please encourage your friends to do so.  Let's make a difference.  One cup at a time.

Thank you.

*  I think PayPal will also take payments from other forms, too, such as credit cards, but I am not familiar with it. 

P.S.  If this is your first time to my blog, welcome.  Thank you for your kindness, and I hope you will stick around and check it out.  Not all of my posts are quite so heart wrenching! :)

Friday, October 19, 2012

Looking out the bars...

So, I am in Twitter jail.  Again!

This time, though, I can see out the bars and watch the people talking about me.  And I can send messages to friends, er, followers, but I can't send direct messages to those who don't....

It's a whole new level of TwitterJail.  Just watching helplessly, trying to mount your defense, but being kept from those witnesses you think can help.

Okay, maybe it's not quite like that.

Tonight I used Tweetdeck for the first time for #wineparty.  Back in early June I was given the suggesting of Tweetdeck and Hootsuite as alternatives to using my iPhone for #wineparty.  I opened up Hootsuite first, and while I also opened up Tweetdeck at the time, to my untrained and unexperienced eye, they looked the same. 

And both, frankly, took my breath away, and I spent WAY too much time customizing and figuring it out.  I stuck with Hootsuite because I couldn't appreciate the differences not knowing what I was doing.

But while I could now SEE #wineparty in a separate column on Hootsuite - and still watch my mentions - (different than my unmentionables!), I could never expand a conversation.  That's driven me nuts all summer - because I felt like I was just catching snippets of conversation over the din, and had a hard time diving into the conversations.

Tweetdeck is fantastic! Tweetdeck gives you "streams" like in Hootsuite, so you can watch multiple lines of chatter, er, tweeting, but you can actually expand and see the whole conversation not just the final tweet for #wineparty (you could do it in other streams on Hootsuite, just not hashtag streams, it seems).

Oh, I'm in love. 

And, um, in jail.


Abby Got It Wrong

I love Dear Abby.  Apparently.  It's one of the few things I read daily.  I actually have a great interest in advice columns, generally - if I could get more sent to my mailbox rather than having to track them on their newspapers - I'd read more.  I'm lazy.  But that's a side-note.  I love the slice of life.

I was reading Dear Abby two days ago (October 17th's column), and I felt like she got it wrong to both letters.  It happens sometimes.  The full text for both is at the end of this.  I'm too lazy to track down the actual link, I admit, this morning.  I get it in my e-mail box as I said.

Nothing a Box of Condoms Can't Solve

The first letter is about a step-mother concerned about the sexual activity of her 15 year old stepson, or rather his natural parents' response to it.  He's having unprotected sex.  It sounds like for the most part none of the parties, including the letter writer, have so much of an issue with the boy having sex - boys will be boys - so that's not an issue to focus on here, or there.  That's just a given. 

The letter writer is concerned about the normal things you should be concerned about ANYONE having unprotected sex.  STDs, unwanted parenthood... and feels between a rock and a hard place because her husband doesn't seem to worry about it and the mother hasn't done anything either.  She's wondering if she's over-reacting, and Abby assures her she isn't. 

There are some questions - unanswered here - about a relationship between a step-parent and child and their responsibility to nonetheless parent them.  There are some questions about how long they have been in this relationship of step-parent / step-child and what kind of relationship, then, that they have.  Whether she has the rapport, position, and relationship to act like a parent.  And those can be touchy issues - and she touches on them when she's concerned about upsetting her husband in doing anything. 

Abby agrees that she's not over-reacting, but basically says unless the husband / father does something, nothing can be done, and the boy will play baby-roulette. 

Really, Abby?  I understand encouraging her to have a talk with the boy may be over-stepping her bounds, although that might be a good start for her to sit down and explain her own concerns to him one-on-one.  But frankly, okay, again I can respect that might not go over well with Dad (although....?), the solution is simple.  Go to the drug-store.  Buy an economy-size box of condoms, and leave them on his bed.  MAYBE the reason the boy is having unprotected sex is that he's too embarrassed to go to the drug store and buy some? Or can't afford them?  I understand young boys seem to find condoms anyway, but maybe give him a big hint and a big box of condoms.  Duh!?

Now, again, I say this because it appears from her letter the issue isn't him having sex, merely having unprotected sex.   If the issue were him having sex, or the parents not wanting to deal with, encourage, or otherwise address sex at all, then maybe that might be inappropriate.

What's The Big Deal With Letting Them Hang Free?

No, not talking balls here.  Although I understand with the transition, you could go there.  There, yes, there is something with letting them all hang out.

The second letter I have a real issue with - personally - because if I were young and dating a guy named Daryl, she could be talking about me.  Oh, and if my name were Michelle. 

The second letter writer is concerned about her son's young girlfriend's support / clothing choices.  Michelle is sweet, caring, smart and funny.  (See why I thought she might be writing about me?)  But *gasp* doesn't wear a bra.  And she isn't flat chested.  Yep.  Except for Daryl and the being young thing, describes me to a T.

WTF?  Okay.  I can understand having issue with it if she wears really tight shirts and her headbeams are on (sorry.. immature streak coming through there) all the time, leaving nothing to the imagination.  But even wearing a bra doesn't guarantee that nips won't poke through.  Personally, I always wear an undershirt to keep the girls from pointing in all directions, and even then...

But I have had several friends amazed that I don't wear a bra, and somehow concerned?  The girls might drag? They ain't at my belly button yet.  And anyone who has played with them has never complained.  I don't have any particular desire for them to be perky, and really they haven't since they were little buds when I was 13.  My breasts are fine. 

I get questions like doesn't it hurt to not wear a bra?  Well, um, if it did, I probably would wear a bra, now wouldn't I?

Abby suggested a polite conversation at lunch and an offer to go lingerie shopping. 

I've been bra shopping with my friends - and even bought a bra to satiate them, but I wear it very infrequently.  I will wear sports bras, only because the girls don't need to develop muscles going up and down, too.  But really only when running.  I don't need one for cycling, or other exercise. 

But even suggesting "lingerie" shopping belies an underlying "purpose" for bras - as something sexy underneath.  Really?

I admit the twitterpool is a bit skewed for scientific inquiry, but I've met a lot of women on here who go bra-less on a regular basis - not just #wineparty - and a lot who wish they could.  I don't criticize those who choose to wear bras, and I understand many do *need* to - again, had Abby said "support" shopping, I'd have a different response to THAT part - so why criticize (and it's only women who give a damn) those of us who don't?  Jealousy?  Are men really that unable to control themselves around a bra-less woman?  I've never had any issues...

Who knows...

Not me.

But we're all allowed an off day.  Even Abby. 


 DEAR ABBY: My 15-year-old stepson, "Justin," doesn't drink or do drugs.  For the most part, he stays out of trouble. The problem is, he has been caught for the third time having unprotected sex.

   My anger isn't at Justin so much as at his parents, obviously his father. Justin has lied repeatedly about this. His father lets him get away with many things, for the most part minor. But this is different.  A 15-year-old boy can't take care of a baby, and having sex with multiple partners means exposing everyone involved to STDs.

   My husband is a smart man, but for some reason he seems to think this will end well. I worry about his son becoming a father too soon and missing out on his full potential. My husband and his ex have dealt with this by trying to ignore it, and for the most part I haven't involved myself. But the more I think about it, the more I see the danger of Justin's life being changed forever because his parents don't want to make him unhappy for a minute.

   I love my husband and stepson. Allowing this to continue isn't the right path for anyone. Am I overreacting? If not, what can I do that won't cause a huge blowup with my husband? -- ALARMED IN CHICAGO

   DEAR ALARMED: You're not overreacting. Your husband is doing his son no favors by enabling his irresponsible behavior instead of asserting himself and acting like a parent. Justin may think that fathering a
   child will make him a "real man." But unless your husband can get through to him that real men take care of themselves and their partners, and real men don't risk bringing children into the world theycan't take care of, then face it: He's letting his son play baby roulette, and it's only a matter of time until he'll be a grandpa.

   DEAR ABBY: My son has a wonderful girlfriend, "Michelle." They live with my ex-husband and visit my husband, "Daryl," and me twice a month and on special occasions. Michelle is sweet, caring, smart and funny.
   The problem is, she doesn't wear a bra. Ever.

   Relatives have commented about it to us at family gatherings because she's not flat-chested. We already know. It's obvious. Daryl feels a woman should go without a bra only in the privacy of her own home, and I agree. He thinks I should buy Michelle a bra as a "subtle hint." I don't think that's wise, and I don't want to offend her.

   Because it doesn't seem to matter to my son, should we continue to keep our opinions to ourselves? -- SEES A NEED FOR SUPPORT IN FLORIDA

   DEAR SEES A NEED: Because people are talking, it would be a kindness to say something to Michelle -- but delicately, so she doesn't think you are criticizing her. If you have a good relationship with her, invite her to join you for lunch and, while you're on the subject of the last gathering, mention that some of the relatives noticed her bralessness.
   Then tell her that you need to go lingerie shopping and invite her along. Ask her to help you pick out a few pretty things for yourself, and then offer to treat her to some things she likes. She just may take you up on it.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Bite me!

(Okay, I'll admit half the reason for the post is that I think the title is cute)

Lately, for some reason, I have found myself responding to this comment, "If you insist..." or "Where would you like?"

If I'm not careful, some of you might already think I have a biting fetish.  Since, after all, I warn the #wineparty virgins that we don't bite... hard.

And clearly, verbally, I do seem to have a biting fetish. 


Mostly I like the reaction.  And to turn around a hostile upset moment into a playful teasing one.  I like the laugh, the smile.  But one day, someone will point some place nice, and say, "Here..."

.. and then, my friends, all bets may be off.

In the meantime, bite me!

Saturday, October 13, 2012

Good grief, Charlie Brown!

Let's face it. Grief makes us uncomfortable.  Particularly other people's grief.  It's hard to know what the right thing is to say or do to bring someone else comfort when they're grieving. 

Yesterday I went to a viewing for a good guy who I didn't know very well.  But what little experience I had with him impressed me.  He was a father who volunteered to be a coach in the league I was directing.  When no-one else would. 

I also went to the last game of his season on Monday.  The 12/13 girls wanted to win it in honor of the coach they had lost.  And they did.  It was bitter sweet.  The girls were excited about the victory, and yet, there were moments of pause about the loss they experienced. 

In the middle of the game, at half-time, both teams, and the coaches, gathered in the middle of the field for a moment of silence, and a prayer for peace and comfort for those who were suffering loss.

And after the game, the girls on the team gave his daughter flowers to express their support for their team-mate.  There were tears and smiles.

I went to show my support.  I hadn't ever met his mother before, and I don't know that I knew who was his fiance.  There was a bit of awkwardness on my end, and yet, I knew it was important to show up.

And that's why I went to the viewing. 

I didn't have the perfect words.

And I have come to understand that there are no perfect words.  Any words are sufficient.  You just have to show up.

I have been experiencing my own grief - and displaying it quite broadly here in the blog and elsewhere.

And there's that awkward silence from many folks, uncertain what to say.  And then there's the others who just show up, just step in not knowing what to say, but nonetheless they just show up.

And my grief is no comparison to the grief that this family is experiencing.  I don't mean to suggest they are the same.  Just to explain where I have gained some of my perspective.

This evening I discovered that a childhood friend passed away.   One of the few boys I kissed before I realized I prefer kissing girls.  His sister and I were good friends, and I fooled around with him a little as sometimes kids do.  I haven't seen him or spoken to him in 25+ years, but have stayed in touch with his sister.  His loss is one step removed from me.  But at one time I knew him much better than the man whose waxy visage I viewed yesterday, and so it strikes me differently. 

It is easy to hesitate and say nothing because you are worried you will say the wrong thing.  And heck you are one of many - who will notice if you show up or don't?  But that's not the reason we support someone experiencing grief.  We support them to let them know they are not alone.

Because, ultimately, that is the core of grief.  Feeling alone.  Feeling left behind. 

I feel a need - Lord only knows why, but there it is - to clarify a little about my grief.  I do miss certain people in my life that were important to me.  I am grieving the loss of the relationships that I shared with these folks.  And even though their absence, in some ways, seems to remain with me, it isn't something that is so painful.  It just is something that is.  So, I don't want you all to worry so much that I am "sad" when I say I miss my friend, or express my grief.  The sore is not so raw, it is not bleeding.  It is not an outstanding wound.  It's merely a scar at this point.  And even then, I put aloe vera on it every day, and it fades.  I'm okay.  I'll be okay.  It just like, every once in awhile, I like to be reminded I am not alone rather than remember being left alone by some folks. 

I don't know if that makes more sense, or clarifies things for folks out there who support me, but I hope it does.  I am okay.  I will be okay.  But these people marked my life, and I carry those marks.  And I look down, every once in awhile, and see them.  :)  Don't worry too much... ;)  And don't worry about what words you use.  Ultimately, the words don't matter.  Just showing up matters. 

Friday, October 12, 2012


.. or lessons learned in my long experienced life.

Never tell someone else about something good that is *going* to happen.  There is no quicker way to f-it up then share it with someone else.

Maybe it isn't really bad luck to mention good things.  Maybe it's just easier to hide and ignore disappointments when you haven't been foolish enough to share your expectations or hopes about such things happening with someone else. 

Don't know.

All I know is the next time I have the potential for something good, something fun, I won't say a word - even a discreet word - to anyone else until AFTER it actually happens.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

National Coming Out Day

October 11th is National Coming Out Day.  Every year, colleges across the country have tables out giving out buttons and stickers.  Or so I presume since that's what my college did 20+ years ago.  I assume it still continues...

I mention it not because today is a particularly special day for me.  Frankly, I'm not a holiday person - most "holidays" are just another day to me, and at some level, so is National Coming Out Day. Because let's face it, I'm coming out every day.  Well, not quite.. that assumes I am hiding in the closet, and well, I'm not.  So, I don't need a special day to prompt me to "come out".

But I know not everyone lives their life the way that I do.

As I have grown older, I have come to realize how hard it is for some folks to come out.  And I'm not talking publicly, or sadly, even with their close friends and family.  Sometimes even to themselves.  And not to say that it was an entirely easy process for me, although I did it at a young age long before I had entrenched myself in, shall we say, the heterosexual lifestyle. 

In thinking back, I realize it was another friend who early on in coming out to me told me about her belief about sexuality existing along a spectrum, and frankly that understanding has always seemed to fit.

One of my more popular blog posts is about Married Women [Who] Like Breasts  While admittedly, it gets a lot of hits from Google searches (which I'll leave to your imagination), it also seems to have struck a resonance with a lot of women I'm "meeting" lately through this blog and Twitter.  Women who are awakening in their sexuality - not simply through mediums like 50 Shades of Grey - but in life.  Appreciating what they have, of course, but also wondering what else there might be.  Acknowledging in themselves an interest in something different or something more. 

I guess what I want my message to be on National Coming Out Day is just a reminder that it's okay to be you.  Whoever you are.  And to try and find comfort and understanding that you are not alone. 

Saturday, October 6, 2012

Butt rubbing...

or.. Another #wineparty post...

It's been a few weeks since I've written a #wineparty post.  Not that it's been a few weeks since I was at #wineparty.  In fact a recent one was hysterical and I wanted to write a post, but I got tired too quickly, then there was soccer, and I think I was there late collecting money and counting it (and having the bank think I was a stripper) to write it the next day...

And then just as quickly as it happened, it was gone...

But it was good.  And you missed it.  Unless you didn't.. but now I don't remember it...

Tonight I had a lot of private and not-so-private conversations at #wineparty.  I was over in that corner behind the lamp, so some of you missed me. 

At one point, though, our hostess - Kit - @blogdangerously - asked if anyone would rub her ass because she was feeling sore from running.  Tonight, however, is a special night for Kit (although they're celebrating tomorrow) as it was her tenth wedding anniversary.  So, I told her, politely, that I would kiss it, but I wouldn't rub it, because let's face it, that would be foreplay, and it just didn't seem right to do that to her on her anniversary. 

And really, that almost died where it was - although I thought it was funny - until someone else accused me of causing trouble in response to another tweet that was, actually harmless.  This, also in response to our hostess, was about everyone moving and me stating that I wasn't.

Moi? Cause trouble? Nah.  Never.  I'm sweet.  I'm innocent.  I'm cube shaped.  And I didn't take advantage of our hostess, even though she invited such trouble. 

Then someone else wandered into the conversation and wondered if butt rubbing were the secret handshake. 

No, it would be butt shake, but that's a different direction, and I was polite enough not to say anything like that. 

See? I'm good.


Then another coming into the conversation late (and, of course, by this time our hostess had long since moved on to find someone else who might actually rub her ass (or I'm assuming that's what she went on to do...)) and I was, once again, explaining how polite and restrained I was.  And he responded with something silly like, "Haha and obviously she'd never be able to withstand your charms yeah?"  To which I responded (of course) "Duh!" 

Okay, maybe I was a bit rude there.

But otherwise, I was a perfect cube all evening.  Despite temptation.  I mean I can't tell you how long it's been since a woman invited me to rub her ass...

(Invitations can be sent to ;) )

Good night, folks.  As always, it hasn't been a dull evening, and it has certainly put a smile on my face!

THE FINE PRINT:  #wineparty is a registered trademark (oh, wait, not registered trademark... um....) of Kit of Blogging Dangerously  If you don't already read her blog, do.  It's hilarious, and #wineparty is her creation! 

Wednesday, October 3, 2012


There are moments in life when you want to crawl into a hole and just get away from all people.  Right? Tell me, you've had those moments, too?

Except the pathetic irony is that even when you crawl into that hole ostensibly to get away from everyone, because everyone seems to suck, you really want that special someone to notice you've crawled into a hole and to come and find you.

Yeah.. Humans are inconsistent creatures...

I'd crawl into the hole.. but there isn't anyone special that would come looking for me... Nope.  The one who would has decided she doesn't want to be that special someone.  And it's been three months since she has come looking for me...  (Oh, woe is me... Pity party of one? Your usual table is ready...)

So, I find out this news today.  And the first live person I try to tell - the first friend I run into - doesn't even realize what I'm trying to tell her.  I have to try and tell her about four different times in four different sightings before she pays enough attention to me to realize what I'm saying.  And then what does she do? She changes the subject...

As Bartles & James would say, "Thank you.  Thank you for your support."

Another friend was less supportive last week, and after I got a little irrationally upset, hasn't really spoken to me since.  And there's a part of me that prefers that because even though I was irrational, I'm still not happy about her behavior and her absence.  Even though it likely has nothing to do with me. 

Another friend has recently declared about another friend of mine that she not only doesn't like the sin, she doesn't like the sinner.  Knowing that I have committed the same "sin" and yet, blindly, she doesn't hate me?  But she should if she were consistent, so I don't really feel like spending time around her...

I got bitched at by a parent the other night at soccer - the wife of a member of the Board.  She was upset because apparently my cohort telling her in person about the fundraiser money deadline was not sufficient, and she was angry because *I* didn't call her to tell her money was due.  Your husband is on the Board?  The calendar has been posted since last November?  Um, the coach called everyone to tell them when it was due? We sent home flyers? And *I'm* the one responsible for you not knowing the money was due?


And frankly, at the moment, that is what I feel like saying to most people.  All while hoping they come looking for me under the rock I plan on hiding under. 

Humans are inconsistent crazy creatures.  And I am most certainly one of 'em...

Short story....

... Had interview yesterday.  Didn't get the job. 

For whatever it's worth, if I'd know the woman who got it was in the running, I'd have known that they were likely to go with her.  They picked the person best suited and most appropriate to move up into that position.

Now, if only I hadn't gotten all my hopes and expectations set on it...

Small details.