...and not in a bad way. It's just different. My friend, MGW, has been here for the weekend and my house smells different. A different scent, not a body odor. I'm not used to it, and there is something both relaxing and unnerving about it all at the same time.
Yesterday was an odd day. I was dropping off a package at a clients' office...to a lunch-time receptionist. She looked at me and remembered me from years ago during my days at the local newspaper. I had worked with her husband.
We yacked for a bit, and when I asked how her husband was...she casually mentioned that they were newly divorced (6 whole weeks), but were still living together, and, oh yeah, had not mentioned to their children (who may or may not still live at home...my ears had stopped working by that point). I beg your pardon? Let me just say I was dumbstruck. She went on to say that he has not been able to hold a job for all of the years since he left the newspaper, and she thinks he's mentally ill. OK...TMI. I knew her just a smidge, a teeny, tiny smidge. Like she joined all of us for drinks every once in a while. Not enough to drop these multiple bomb shells.
Fast forward to the evening. Ran into one of my very favorite printer vendors at Portland's Greek Festival -- great time by the way. I had not seen him in months, and he introduced me to the woman he was with. I had never met his wife, but was somehow keenly aware that this. most definitely, was not his wife. The people I was with knew him and when I asked...they said he had been blindsided by a divorce last year. Did NOT see that coming. He was the man I imagined married for life.
Here I've been feeling like I just don't get relationships, and everyone else does...and kapow -- these two things. Does any relationship ever work? Don't know why I felt so rocked, but rocked I did feel.
Ha!
I live through months upon months of a real dry spell. Yes, I dated a really wrong man over Christmas. How much anger can one little short man keep inside over his ex-wife of 10 years? And his near senile and bed-ridden father? They make medication for that little man.
P.S. this was the first real date since the bad break-up with BB. The break-up where I caused lots of pain, and still today, nearly two years later, feel deep regret over. Not the breaking-up part, for that was the ever-so-right thing to do, but regret over causing such a kind man any kind of pain.
Then I met the nice man I went snow-shoeing with (we met in late January)...see an earlier post about our friendship, and how much easier it seemed after we took the "lover" part out of the spoken equation. That, of course, had to come after his near sprint get-away after our last "official" date.
Then nothing...pretty much nothing. So, I stepped back on to the bad nightmares called eHarmony and Match.com and put my smiling face back out there.
One silly lawyer who mentioned he was having trouble with the emails, yet sent me a real nasty-gram when I failed to show up at the time he stated (and I never received). I told him I didn't like being talked to like I was five years old, and to move along, thank you very much.
Then there were the ones that had different answers for their relationship status in the same profile, and when questioned, never responded, but switched both to "widowed." That can't be good. Right?
Or "another bullet dodged" as my friend Cookie likes to say.
I had just come to the decision that "being single was going to have to be OK." Truly - said those words to myself and let both memberships lapse.
Then, out of the blue, a client insisted I should meet this man she knew. This wonderful, creative man that I needed to know. OK...maybe this is what they mean about 'when you least expect it." Hours before that impromptu meeting, I had coffee with the last person I had contact with on eHarmony. The jury is out on that one...he basically said he had no idea why he was doing online dating because he wasn't all that excited about dating. Helloooo. McFly. Just because they put it on sale does not mean you need to buy it. He seemed nice, but why even go down the road if the man says he's not interested in dating. Better to take him at his word. Then the next day, back with my snow-shoeing, "non-lover" friend. All within the span of 24 hours. Hence my new name... "Speed Dater."
You know what? The best time was with the one I've known the longest, and perhaps some sparks flew. I'll never tell. Suffice to say -- that I liked him then and I like him now. Even if he kind of looks like my former husband (duly noted by the daughter). That last post I wrote about him ended with a non-ending. "I could like him, but...." I now know that the statement after "but" was "I'm not sure he likes me." Oh well. I'm hopefully seeing him again next week. I guess time will tell, and I'm working hard to keep my expectations exceedingly low. He lives in the next state so nothing about it will be too easy. My friend Joe used to say, "Expect nothing, and be pleasantly surprised when something good happens." I'd like something good to happen on the relationship front. I'm ready. Yes, Internet, I am ready.
words sting...that is all
So...I have neglected to mention my current empty-nest status. In large part...that is why these posts have dwindled in the past few weeks...life was consumed with volunteer projects and getting my little one moved out of the house.
Truth be told...it seems a bit surreal. I live in a 4-story house by myself...with my three cats and one dog. But I feel like the crazy cat-lady when I start talking to them. (My friend, Peter, maintains 'I'm one cat away from being a news story.') I'm self-employed and have a small office in the attic floor of my house, so my interaction time with people is fairly limited. It's just plain strange, really. AND it brings even more meaning to my blog's subtitle...I'm really living single. This is the first time in my whole adult life. I got married three weeks after college, had Ally almost 4 years later and have been with her ever since (with and without the now-former husband). I'm still getting used to the idea and have this reverse nesting thing going on... I'm in the mood to get rid of everything. One of my favorite blogs is unclutterer.com...it's all about uncluttering your life...something I feel compelled to do these days. Let the purging begin.
So...how do you spell ballsy, anyway?
In any case...I nearly dropped everything in my arms when a panhandler approached me on the street this afternoon...and asked me if I could spare $50 for a homeless man. $50??? Is he kidding me? The thing that's too bad is that I would have given him some small bills...I really would have (as I often do when I stroll down Exchange Street in sunny Portland), but his request left me off-balance. I mean, what was he smoking? I had one of those 'wish I had thought of that at the time' moments as I walked away. Instead of stammering with "I don't have any small bills," I would have come up with..."are you f#@*ing kidding me?"
I feel like I sound like a capitalist snob...but I'm just in shock. I'm a caring person, but this request was so off the mark...not even I...liberal-Lucy could let this one go. I'm turning 45 this week (the horror)... does this reaction mean I'm becoming more conservative? Next thing you know... I'll be telling all homeless people to get a job and buy tickets for the Glenn Beck appearance at the Merrill Auditorium. Can you feel me twitching, internet? Can you?
My beautiful golden (retriever) girl of nearly 13 years had to be put down this week. This is my second pet in just two months who has become too sick to go on. I had never been in charge of euthanasia until now. Nearly 45 years old, and never the one to make this choice. My ex-husband got our two cats in the divorce, and he was the one who made the decisions for those two gorgeous coon cat boys. I cried for them, and for the kitty we lost in February, but nothing feels like this feeling with Isabelle. She was the most loving soul (a term used by our vet's office in the sympathy card they mailed). My daughter and I stayed with her until the end...the very end. We hugged and kissed her as her final breath was taken. It was peaceful and it was the right thing to do, but it feels, even three days later, like there's a hole in my heart. She had been with me, with us, since she was all of 7 1/2 weeks old.
See her here with my daughter (a photo taken shortly after we got her). 
She was my companion in those early years of being divorced and my daughter would be with her Dad for the weekend. She was the constant in my mostly single existence of the last 13 years. These final months had become hard, and very expensive. She had all manner of ailments, and had to be poked and prodded a lot. She stood it well, but in the last few weeks looked like she was scared of me -- scared of what I had to do next...to her ears or her eyes. Her eyesight was gone, her hearing was gone...the real Isabelle was gone. I'll miss her more than I know how to say. Rest in peace, Lady Isabelle of Durham -- my goldie girl...I love you.
She found the perfect apartment. She convinced her Dad it was OK for him to pay rent starting in May instead of August (is she sure she isn't pre-law??). We went to see it yesterday. It was small, cramped and perfectly exquisite for a first apartment. An amazing painted tin ceiling in the living room, and a dip or two in the floor, but who's counting? I'm so excited for her, but felt this pang of sadness the moment I saw her text that her application had been approved. It's probably all of 4 miles away from this house. But it won't be this house, and I'm getting misty thinking about it.
I had one today. I'm not proud of it. I'm trying to figure out 'the why.' It came after yet another poopie crate from my aging golden retriever. I love her to pieces, but she is always one one side of sick. If not her skin, it's her stomach and the stuff it expels (gross, I know). No delicate way to discuss poopy crates. I can tell it's happened as I walk toward the crate...the nose always knows.
That coupled with a refigerator that manages to freeze every fresh vegetable I put in it.
BUT I think the real reason for the hissy was fear. My daughter is planning her move away from my nest in the coming months. It could be as early as next month...like three weeks and change, and I just know how much I will miss her. Stupid how we bury the things that really bother us under other things...though poopy crates, poopy big-dog fannys and frozen-fresh veggies (just purchased yesterday) are nothing to sneeze at....
Have you seen this thing? This marvel of viral marketing from the mini people. I linked in and somehow feel really naughty enjoying slapping the %&!@ out of the guy. Hard day at the office? Hard day at home? Try this. Even the pacifists among us are bound to enjoy, and that's what makes me feel so dirty.
