convoluted christmas

At risk of sounding like a chronic complainer I am going to declare that this was the most non-Christmasy, non-joy-filled holiday my family has ever had. Even though Christie and I flew home for Christmas as an attempt at some degree of normalcy, it was not normal at all. And it's probably all my fault. Except for the fact that there was no snow. That clearly is not my fault.

I do take the blame for the holiday breakdown though, cuz I'm the one who chose to move far away. My daughter Christie was keen on the idea of moving to Los Angeles up until 2 months before our move date when she happened to fall in love with a boy. Now she feels stuck in LA, stressed and lonely for her friends.

I believe this stress has caused her health to suffer. She had strep in early December. By the time we flew back east she was fine. Three days later, while on vacation back home, I had to take her to the hospital. The strep had returned with a vengeance and her throat was so swollen she needed immediate meds by IV to ensure her airways stayed clear.

Running back and forth to the hospital and dealing with a pretty sick kid put a real damper on the rest of the family too--both sides. My older daughter Maria was a big help logistically, but fell short on the TLC factor and stressed her sister out worse. I got more flack from the asshole ex. My mom was concerned about both Christie and me (this is what moms do) and just wanted to take away everyone's suffering.

There were some gems buried beneath the Christmas rubble, however. I spent one day back in the old neighborhood where I saw 4 girlfriends, visited my naturopath who stocked me up with remedies and reassurance, and then had a Thai dinner, drinks and mucho comfort from my old love and bestest friend Rob. Also, spending some time taking care of Mom and a little with my sis and my dad. I did my family deeds. But it still doesn't feel like enough. Maybe next Christmas I'll get it right.

my apologies!

Photo by Vancouver Photographer Jason Pfeifer

I have absent from blogging for so long. Not because I was pregnant--thank God I was not--but because I was depressed. Of course, first I was elated because the preg test was negative. But both before and after that I have been battling the blues. This is a typical symptom of peri-menopause so I am told. The hot flashes persist. I'm trying not to go on anti-depressants.

So, yeah, there are hormonal issues. But they only add to my situational issues. As the year comes to a close I am feeling a bit defeated, or at the very least, deflated. My dream was a driving force and inspiration in my life over the last 18 months. Something I planned so carefully for, sacrificed plenty for, has fallen short of my expectations. It feels very unbalanced. I mean, there are people who I hurt by leaving. I feel I should have much more to show for their sacrifice (and mine) than I do now.

Despite lots of effort, I have no job yet, no income. I miss my family and friends a ton, maybe I always will. My relationship with Andy is growing, but as yet I am not convinced he has what it takes to be my life partner. In the meantime I will be patient and enjoy all the laughter he brings to my life.

I'm not giving up hope for life in Los Angeles yet. There's still time to make it happen. The tides have got to turn soon. I've been too lucky in life up to this point to have God bail on me now.

uh oh

I'm now 11 days late. I can't tell if my hot flashes are authentic or if they're anxiety-induced because they start in the seconds after I wake up just as reality downloads into my brain. I finally bought a home pregnancy test today. Gonna use it tonight after Andy goes out. The next time I post I'll know. Not enjoying this one bit.

the spice of life

Sex has been so deliciously steamy lately. I think I've finally got my man where I want him--amorous, attentive and patient enough to savor the entire experience as it was meant to be. Variety is sweet and there's so much more to lovemaking than fucking! We're on our way to sacred sex. I feel it coming...pun intended.

He's totally fascinated with the grab bag of sexy things we do and seems more intent on playing with all the toys than firing his gun as fast as he can. What used to take 20 mins is now about an hour of bliss. And I can tell that delaying the big O is rewarding for him by the sounds he makes when he finally lets go. Music to my ears!

One of the things I am happiest about is the foundation we seem to be building through our lovemaking. Whereas there used to be times when I sensed he was driven only by lust and animalistic urges, now his actions seem to stem from a deeper love for me. I feel like he wants to know me and love me more so than ever before. Although I had expressed my concerns (about feeling loved during sex) earlier, I think that time has been the biggest factor in the change. It probably took him awhile to believe that I was really here, living with him, and he didn't have to rush through sex because I'd be leaving soon. Silly boy.

Yeah, so in all this sex play over the last couple weeks we've kind of been passing on the condoms. They are so very inconvenient when you're changing gears every few minutes. There's nothing worse than the taste of a lubricated condom. Plus the feeling of skin sliding right against skin is sooooo delicious. I love when there's nothing between us.

We know better, but admittedly we've been blowing it off, letting ourselves get lost in the moment. Well, we have been somewhat careful by not having him cum in me. But needless to say, my fingers are crossed that we don't have an accident. I feel like a teenager again, anxiously awaiting my period that is 3 days late...and counting. Chances are I'm not so fertile anymore, but I've sure increased the odds by numbers alone.

remembering the goddess

This seems to be the week of validation. Weird, but I got another reminder of how I impacted the life of someone from my past who's apparently still pining for me. This one, however, was kind of creepy because I hadn't seen or heard anything from this guy in almost 30 years, yet he chose to be uncomfortably forward in his email. Can you say creepy?

What's sad is that this kid was a really nice boy and the most amazing guitarist at only 16. He had such talent. But later I had heard that he'd moved to LA and got caught up in the drug scene, like the hard stuff, and kind of trashed his chance at musical success.

I couldn't resist showing someone this email, since it was too inappropriate to share with Andy. My commentary's in italics.

You look like your picture is from high school. He's referring to my photo on Classmates.com, the cheesy website where old friends and creeps alike can contact you again. You married one lucky son-of-a-nice guy probably. Little does he know. What can I say I still remember this one day super vividly. No one has ever come close. He's referring to my skill on the one afternoon when we were teenagers and I brought him up to my bedroom to make out with him. Er...which led to a BJ. My wife is really cool, from brooklyn. Left LA with her and, oh yeah, 3 KIDS. But If I could go back and relive one afternoon. you probably have no idea what im talking about. if you do then neither one of us can forget true perfection. Well, yes, I do remember the sexual encounter cuz he was a cute kid and I had a crush on him for a long time. But true perfection??? I think not. Well, at least it wasn't for me. Maybe I just dreamed i spent an afternoon with an angel who had permission to do things the other angels couldn't come close. I think he means that other girls my age didn't do that to boys. I had an early calling. And I do like being called an angel. ;) I have grown up, and, i pray neither of our spouses sees this, but i had to look to see which place i was in. I haven't a clue what he means. heaven came down to me and Ill never, even this many years later forget how much in love with you i was. REally? That's sweet, and awkward. You arent human, Thanks. Like my Wife, huh? You are an angel that fell to earth. Your husband, if you're married still, better appreciate your heart, smile and grammatical skill. ROFL! What?? Grammatical skill? He remembers my grammar and the BJ. you could spell so well, i had to look to see were the 'words' were cum, sorry coming from. sorry bad joke. Eww, that's just creepy. But the truth is no joke, damn, the one that got away. I hiope you are happy cuz just seeing your picture made me think of one of the few times in my life i was really happy. Pretty sad that he hasn't been that happy ever since, considering he married someone and had 3 children with her. I hope you feel that now, you deserve it. U R still a Goddess. There's the validating line. Bored, Depressed and back in hometown name inserted here since 2007, i just finished a solo record, i hope someone will care. Obviously he's hoping that I'll care. And basically I would have dropped a line, but the message was so convoluted and gross that I surmised that he's still on drugs. No thanks. Sorry Pal. But thanks for reminding me that I am a goddess.

worth wanting

I'd spent the beginning of the week feeling dejected, depleted, and just plain sick of looking for work with so little response. Wondering if I'd ever feel like a productive and valued human being in the workplace again I was starting to give thought to what I'd do if I really couldn't find work in LA.

For sure I would feel totally fucked. I would forever live in disbelief at how my well-laid plans could go awry.

Well, that was Monday, Tuesday and part of Wednesday. On Thursday a glimmer of hope arrived. An agency I had applied to wanted to schedule me for a test. I'd gotten through the pre-screening phone interview and they were committing to a test. We booked that. A second company also finally emailed me and asked to have a phone call next week. Great news!

On Friday I decided to ride into the city with Andy to meet a friend of his who wants him to do a painting on a wall in her house. She and I got to talking and found out that one of her best friends owns an agency that specializes in the kind of work that I do...and they are hiring! I felt like I hit the jackpot. The rest of the day I walked a little lighter, felt like I had a lot more to smile about and could finally allow myself to enjoy the present. I felt like the old me--the one who knew who she was. I felt a sense of belonging for the first time since moving to this city.

It got even better. While I was standing at the BBQ grilling some chicken for dinner, I received a call from agency #1 for an in-person interview. That is, they scheduled a meeting even before I'd taken the test. Niiice! Things are def happening.

Saturday morning Andy and I are in bed making passionate love when my Android pings. I ignore it at the time, but wondering who would be emailing me on the old Gmail account that I had only used for live chats with a old lover (and to set up my new Android this past summer).

Oh God, it was Cam. I hadn't heard from him in over 3 years. He was wondering how I was, and the kids, that kind of stuff. And he said he hoped I didn't mind him emailing me. It stopped me in my tracks.

A lot went through my mind for the next few hours. I wanted to respond but then again I didn't. I certainly didn't want to dredge up all those heated memories and emotions. I know my limits and Cam is dangerous for me. And Andy is too important to me. I've made a commitment to give this relationship my full attention. I couldn't let it go astray because of Cam. It would be the worst thing ever to do to Andy.

I also started to question why now? If something had been terribly wrong in Cam's life I think he would have said so. Maybe he's available again and fishing for info on my status. Maybe he was just bored. Regardless of his reason, I needed to know on a deeper level, why did this come to me right now?

What I decided was that Cam's email was a reminder that I am wanted. People want me. Businesses want me, too. And I'm not supposed to forget that. His message came in order to support the events of the last couple days and to remind me that I am worth wanting.

I thanked the universe for sending the message through someone whose opinion I trust and hold close. I'll do my best to use it over the next couple weeks to keep the fire burning and impress the hell out of these employers. I'm ready to deal with multiple job offers. Kind of reminds me of when I sold my house. Bidding war? Bring it on.

love nest

It's gotten really warm and cozy in our little love nest. I have proven to myself once again that an open heart = better love. Duh.

It happened on the living room floor. We had just smudged the apartment together that morning, having agreed that we needed to get rid of all the bad energy that had somehow accumulated over the last couple months. After the sage smoke cleared, we thanked each other, hugged and felt instantly drawn to each other once again.

By the afternoon it was too big to resist. Our passion, that is. He grabbed me from behind and unzipped my jeans, pulling them down just low enough to expose my butt. He turned me around, hands firmly planted on my butt and pulled me in for a very wet kiss as our equally hungry mouths met. I noticed how good he always smells...his breath, just the skin on his face. I get lost in him.

Still locked in a kiss we worked ourselves down to the floor. He stripped me naked from the waist down and dove in to tend to my fire with his hot mouth. Every time he goes down on me it gets better and better. It's so fun to learn each other sexually, to find exactly what makes each other go over the edge, or better yet, keep them dangling precariously on the edge until you decide to push them into a lusty freefall.

It was a crazy hot love session. My orgasm was quite loud. Good thing we had shut the windows after clearing the apartment. After I came we did some serious fucking which was followed by his 2 consecutive, yes 2, orgasms--one all over my stomach and the second one more strategically placed less than a minute later. All I could say was wow. I'd never seen him do that before, and it was way cool!

I am starting to enjoy the never ending surprises in this place. Except for the rug burn on my back, but it was so worth it.

rememoried

Lately there have been days when I've found it hard to identify the source of my unhappiness. Is it lack of a job? A dwindling bank account? Feeling homesick? Cabin fever? Disappointing relationship? Fear of failure?

Deep down I knew that all these factors were only temporary. But I had one nagging concern about my relationship with Andy. I was afraid that we just didn't have the potential to reach the big future we had dreamed of. Either I'd been totally unrealistic about our love, or his habits had gotten the best of me or I was just completely flat from the stress of the last 4 months.

Then something saved me. I stood back from everything and remembered a nugget of wisdom from my history. Instead of looking at my partner or the situation around me to pin the blame on, I looked inside myself. What part was I playing in the perceived demise of our relationship?

I suddenly remembered a discovery from my past: the magnitude of love I felt coming from my partner was dependent on and equal to the degree to which I opened my heart to it. I needed to allow the love to come in to me, and to receive it willingly. As best as I could recall, I'd never been let down by this practice. In the case of Rob especially, his love reflected mine. The more I opened my heart to him, the more love and intensity I felt coming from him. He even used to say that he purposely reflected me. He'd adapt to my level of love--when we were very close and our relationship was moving forward he gave me all his love and emotion. But when we were more reserved in our relationship (like when I was dating someone else) he held back as I did, we each preserved and protected ourselves from possible hurt, but the emotion was stifled too. As a result the love and sex were not quite as fulfilling.

This made me realize that I had been blocking Andy's love. Through denial or deflecting, I'm not sure, but it brought up some great questions to ask myself. Like WHY!? And here's how my mind responded...

• Trying to find myself again and reclaim my identity meant pushing Andy away to see who I was without him. I'm so fiercely independent and need to know I can do something completely on my own that I deny his attempts at help.
• I was angry at Andy for not fully appreciating everything I did to get here, how much work and expense I have endured, and all that I left behind.
• I was angry at myself for not handling the adjustment better/stronger/faster. Therefore I did not deserve to have his love. How could he love me when I felt like such a loser?
• I compared his love to Rob's and decided he just wouldn't measure up. He couldn't help solve my problems or guide me with the wisdom that Rob still continued to do. He wasn't the gentle lover that I longed for, who gave me endless comfort. He didn't know me inside out, and didn't seem to want to know much about my world, so how could he ever love me enough? So I blocked the love he did try to give me.

All this nonsense aside, I did something that made all the difference and instantly changed my outlook on the future of our relationship. While Andy was out one night I reread my blog posts about him.

I read about the day we met again after 29 years when he read his book to me next to the lake while we polished off a bottle of wine. I read about the accidental phone sex that catapulted us into an official relationship. I read about my fantasy trip to Santorini with him where we began the next chapter of our lives. I read about the moment I knew that Andy could fulfill the family dreams I'd always had. And finally, how he said if you jump, I will catch you.

It was all I needed to bring back reasons to let his love in. And with that realization everything was different moving forward.

When he came home late that night and climbed into bed with me, I cradled my warm body next to his. I tucked my knees in to fit against the back of his legs, wrapped my arm around the front of him resting my hand on his chest, pulled myself closer to him and laid my face on his back where I could hear his heartbeat. The sounds of a contented love escaped through his breath. My reward.

All was well in my world again. I only wish I had remembered sooner.

WANTED: Joy (Part II)

What is my joy, where are all the things that fed me and fuelled my passion for living and loving? I need to get in touch with these things again. My life depends on it. Let’s rewind and see what we can find.

I seem to remember the joy that my sex life used to produce. Hours of intense lovemaking led to not only physical pleasure, but emotional bonding, even on a spiritual level. I felt God’s presence regularly in the bedroom. So why can’t I have that now? Because God needs more than 20 minutes’ notice? Because two are more powerful than one in the spiritual arena and right now I’m the only one thinking beyond sex as pleasure?

Music is another thing that used to make me feel alive and really charged inside. Since I moved in with Andy I’ve put my musical tastes second to his as music is so much more a part of his daily life than it was mine. Maybe that was a mistake, even though I like most of his music. Last night I escaped to the bedroom where my stereo lives. I closed the door and sunk into total bliss as I listened the entire Grace CD by Jeff Buckley (one of my favourites). My mind had been craving something that complex, intense and beautiful. I loved being surrounded, totally enveloped by it. It reminded me of who I am. It reminded me of Cam. Most of all it reminded me how music moves me.

Being in the presence of great people used to excite me. When Andy is working a show he becomes a personality that is totally attractive and inspiring to me. I am trying to find that spark in him while he is living the other more normal parts of life, but I haven’t found enough of it to satisfy me yet. Still I miss the other great people I used to get to be with. Distance now separates me from most of them, and technology doesn’t quite close the gap. People don’t always take the time to keep in touch. And when they do I can’t look them in the eye, share a drink with them, or feel their hearts when we hug. There is a face-to-face energy that I really crave.

Creativity…there’s another possibility. Should I start drawing again? I’ve heard myself say I’d do that over the years and still haven’t. I had talent. I wonder if I still do, and if it would feel good to draw again? Then there’s the writing thing. Not feeling as confident about that. I feel I used to be much better at writing a few years ago than I am today. Today I mostly use writing as therapy. If it gets good, it does, but I can’t get caught up in that. My limited audience will have to endure my creative block.

I love the endorphin rush of a good workout. So I've started working out twice a week instead of once. Good for the heart, the mind, and I like my thighs a lot better too. I'll keep this up as long as I can.

My passion for living and loving feels just out of reach. I know it's something I can have again, I just have to find my way back to it. So, what's stopping me? I really can't look to anyone but myself, can I? Maybe it's time to take a serious look at myself and what I've created. How has my reality deviated so far from the dream?

WANTED: Joy (Part I)

It’s peculiar how you can forget what really makes you happy. You’d think that you’d always remember these things, sort of like riding a bike. If you’ve done it and lived it, it should be part of you forever, no?

Here I sit in LA land (aka LALA land), where all my dreams pointed to for the last 2 years. I moved mountains to uproot my life and relocate here. My heart and the promise of fulfilling my highest aspirations fuelled me through the challenges of coordinating a massive move for both my daughter and myself, including selling our house, leaving family and friends and shipping our possessions.

I moved in with my love Andy, my daughter is thriving at her new school, the weather is to die for and I’ve had all summer to play and discover my new world. Sounds awesome. Then why has Dinamo lost her passion for living and loving? Basically I feel like I’m on the edge of flatlining.

#1 reason: I need to work. I need to get an actual job, not just spend hours a day looking for one. Between perfecting my resume and cover letters to be my most fabulous self on paper, browsing career websites, applying for jobs and reading the masses of industry articles I’ve subscribed to in order to stay current, I literally spend about 5-6 hrs a day online. I now hate my computer…and the whole process of looking for work. Especially when you find out through CareerBuilder’s ‘fantastic’ little feature outlining the competition that 279 other people also applied for the same job that you did.

#2 reason: I feel alone. Andy is sweet, but he can’t provide me with a lot of what I need. A girl needs her own circle of friends to hang with and talk to. I love looking at his face, but it is now burned in my retina. Variety please!! Andy and I don’t have the depth in our relationship that I want and need. He rarely asks me questions about what I like, what I feel, what I dream…sometimes feels like he’s just not that into me, but how do I dare say that when I know he adores me? I also feel like I have to solve all my problems myself. He helps me the very best he can, but he doesn’t have experience dealing with pressures and complex issues. So I’m either on my own, or I call Rob for help which luckily he is still willing to give.

#3 reason: I’ve lost touch with my spirituality. The fact that I’ve been in mere survival mode over the last couple months means I have pushed aside my relationship with the higher power. I am in such unfamiliar territory, physically, emotionally and mentally. This is where I should find the greatest use of my faith, yet I overlook it. My mother and Rob both have strong spiritual leanings and they remind me of its power in their own gentle ways. Maybe I need to be beat over the head with it. Or hit rock bottom (oh, please no).

Rob sent me Deepak Chopra’s Book of Secrets last week. I am more than half way through it already. The timing was right for me and it’s reminded me that I need to get back to seeking my joy on a daily basis. I def have not been doing that. When I am feeling like shit, how can I attract the job of my dreams? As long as there is no vibrational match, my job and I will not meet. I have to get in the right state of mind for it to come. And I do believe that. In the past I've been able to get there. Why is it so hard now?

Because I can't find my joy.

fading

Tonight I was being curious and mischievous by delving back into a past love life. I dug up some of my 'starred' gmail chats with Cam from 2006. These are the treasures of love that will live forever in the archives of my old gmail account...the one we used for keeping our channel of communication open for hours as we worked at our desks thousands of miles away. Of course this was pre-Skype. Hopefully these precious records of our gmail chats will live forever as does the love for a soulmate. And Cam was mine.

To add the context surrounding this chat, these messages were written in the months following our 4 day reunion--the only 4 days we spent together. Although we both wanted to preserve the intensity of those days, we had both added new relationships to our lives and were trying to adjust to that. But our love lived on for quite a while. Just for the record, I've had no communication with Cam in about 3 years now, since he turned down my invitation to move to my town/country and make a go of it.

Dinamo wrote:
What do I mean when I say I'm scared of you fading? I'm scared of losing my memory of you and our 4 days together, the intensity of it, the specifics of it, like how my heart jumped when I caught you looking at me, what it was like to cuddle up next to you on that plump couch in the spa, to sweat with you in the hot springs, to smell your skin in soft dark places, to be driven through the ceiling by your fingers, the taste of your tears, the pride I felt watching you when we were out, to wake up to you and to be awakened by your touch, your million dollar smile, your sneeze, the way you opened doors for me and wanted to pay for everything, the bliss of the silence between us, the bump on your forearm, the anticipation of all the "firsts" we experienced, wearing your shirt and tucking notes in secret places to surprise you, laughing at your stories, feeling certain songs together, holding your hand and you liking it, feeling your passion as your mouth found its love, the little things you noticed like it was our first time driving in a car together, the way I knew how important I was to you, and knowing that no one's love could ever surpass ours, gazing while we ate drank and made love, learning about you and all you've done, the sex feast, your eyes, the sounds you made, the words of love you spoke. I want to keep all of it, I want to give to you better than anyone else can, I want it to remain sacred and untouchable. I love you. D

Cam's Reply:
That's it... Sacred. That makes me cry.

That's what I want, sacredness between us. That's what I experienced and what I think we are just scratching the surface of. Thank you for this idea and what you wrote. I am overwhelmed with you in this moment.
love, c

And why did I post this, you ask? There is a part of me that is searching for the depth in a relationship that I so crave. Andy and I don't have it yet and I miss it. I am willing to wait until it grows for us, but in the meantime I am trying to make it tangible in my life somehow. It makes me feel good to remember how special I was to someone, and how we could express our deepest feelings to each other. That's what seemed to feed the relationship for the longest time.

the housebitch

OK, so I've been using my voice now that I found it. I'm trying to ask for what I need, express my feelings and just plain speak more--my goal was to use at least 2-3x the words that I used to. The problem I now face is that I hear myself sounding like a bitch. I seem to be speaking a lot about what needs to be done next in the home. Which makes me sound like a mother.

And although I am a mother, I'm not Andy's mother. And I do NOT want to sound like a nag. But why does no one see all these things that need to be done? As I see it, this leaves me with these alternatives:

1. Do it myself. Yes, frankly I do it best anyway, but what does that teach anyone? That they can continue to leave it to me. No thanks. I feel taken advantage of. Besides, if I just do it myself I will resent it. And we all know that resentment leads to a lot less fun in the bedroom.



2. Let it go. This works temporarily in the case of sneakers in the middle of the floor. Granted there are times when Andy trips over them and then moves them himself. But then there's the case of the closet in which clothes get tossed up onto the shelf. Over a period of time this grows into a pre-avalanche state. Or if no one goes to get groceries, we eat cereal for dinner and my kid eventually dies of malnutrition.



3. Ask for help. No matter how I do this, I hear myself as boss. Why do I have direct my housemates in what needs to be done? The frustrating part is that I shouldn't have to ask (the obvious). I shouldn't have to ask for the same things week after week. Can't everybody just put their dishes in the dishwasher, or run it when it is full? Or think about what dinner will be? I shouldn't be so hesitant to ask when others are quick to ask me to get/do something for them as they lay on the couch/bed because I am up anyway. Yes, because I am always up doing the things that need to be done! This annoys me and makes me feel like a servant. And then I feel guilty when I don't carry out the favor. Hmmph.



4. Leave. I could leave the house for hours and just let them fend for themselves. It's because when I am there I am the superhuman solver of all problems/inconveniences in the home that I end up doing too much. I have to find a way to stop. Ideally I'd like to start working in a great job where sneakers in the middle of the floor at home are the last things on my mind. They'd be better off without me (at home), and I think I'd be better off mentally. But until that job and I get hooked up, I have this little issue to deal with. Or better said, they have me to deal with.
   
   I feel the bitch in me just a-brewing. I need the cure.

finding my voice

I suppose as I look back on these days a year from now, it'll all be a blur. Kind of like a dream that floats from fantasy to nightmare and back and forth again. Visions of palm trees swaying in the ocean breeze give way to the incessant shrill of sirens and racing engines outside our bedroom window. It's sensory overload.

I made a conscious choice to seek a new kind of life that would challenge me to reach the next level--for my career, my social life, my love life. At the center of that new life is a man who is charming, brilliantly creative and totally in love with me. But also included in the package is a quirky artist who's pretty high strung sometimes, likes a lot of attention and has just a touch of an ego. OK, it's more than a touch, but it's not bad....really.

Andy likes to talk. He spends a lot of time talking...to me, to friends, basically anyone he can. It's another outlet for his creative energy I guess. I don't have that need. I usually prefer writing my thoughts and feelings over talking, unless, of course, I am coaxed with a beverage, or if someone shows great interest in what I have to say. Also I tend to clam up when things are bothering me, and as you know, things have been bothering me. Rob was great for drawing out all sorts of stuff from me, but Andy hasn't discovered the value in that yet. He's still learning me.

My point in all this chatter is that Andy's habit of talking a lot mixed with my tendency to be somewhat quiet, plus the anxiety I've felt trying to find my own identity here has led to me kind of lose my voice.

One day last week Andy and I had coffee with a friend of his I hadn't yet met. Wow, was I in for a treat. This woman, instead of talking about herself (which many people out here seem to do), asked question upon question of me! I suddenly rose to the occasion and enjoyed a real conversation with her. Like a long lost friend I heard my own voice speaking again. I did more talking in that hour than in all the time I've been out here.

And the best part of it all was that it made me feel good again. I felt real. I felt validated. It kind of bothers me that it took that conversation to realize what had gone wrong with me. But I didn't dwell on that. I tucked it in my pocket and took it with me for next time.

Last night after some sex play with Andy I voiced my opinion on something that normally I would have kept to myself. He responded perfectly. I can see that this new thing called communicating through spoken words is working, so I'm going to keep building on it.

It feels like I'm a long way from reaching the next level in my career, my social life and my love life. But if I find ways to reclaim my identity I think the power that comes from that will propel me to where I want to be even faster.

dark sex

I am a strong believer that you need to feel good about what you do. This applies to everything from how you earn a living, to what you eat, to killing a spider. If you repeatedly do some action that just doesn't sit right with you, there will be repercussions.

I have been following this philosophy for quite some time. I had settled into a routine life back in my small northeast town and therefore had the ability to assess everything new that tried to make its way into my world.

Since moving to Los Angeles, everything is turned upside down. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration. But for a woman who can get quite comfortable (bored yes, but comfortable) with routine, it sure seems like this is an extreme change to the life I knew! My point is that I am bordering on overstimulation in my new surroundings and have kind of lost my equilibrium, or sense of what's best for me. In this new, somewhat precarious position I now call life, I was not careful about what I let enter my world.

Here's Andy, my sweet, adoring boyfriend that I finally get to live with! As lighthearted, fun and talented as he is, the man has an affinity for some hardcore activities in the bedroom. I'm no prude myself, and honestly I found this aspect of our love life very attractive after having a very gentle, but passive boyfriend. Granted, Rob was an extraordinary lover, but it was unnatural for a guy with his loving nature to get down and dirty. Andy does not have that problem. In fact, he took me some places (sexually speaking) that really did it for me. And I wanted more of that.

So now we are living together and we are basically having sex as often as we like. Which is a lot. But there have been some instances where I found myself feeling bad after sex. Kind of defiled. The first couple times I didn't say anything. But finally I spoke up and told him that during those certain acts I can't feel his love for me. I don't mind being filthy dirty, but I need to sense his underlying love and care for me while he's holding my head in place, shoving his cock down my throat. I mean I hope he realizes in those moments that I need to breathe. What scared me about it most was that he might actually be getting off on the fact that he was hurting me, because I sensed that at the time. But when I told him that he had pushed me beyond my limit and that that was too dark for me, he apologized, and he's been much more considerate since.

There have been some other things he has done that I've felt not mentally ready for, but because they were pretty stimulating physically I let him continue. But later I was left feeling unsettled. I find myself in unchartered sexual territory with Andy, which is kind of surprising based on my experience.

I believe that the negative feelings I've had about some of our sexcapades led to trouble last week. Without getting into detail, I came down with a condition that not only halted our sex life for a couple weeks, but could change the way we relate to each other forever. It has not been fun and it is more than I am ready to deal with so early in our life together. I hope it doesn't damage our bond which is really only in its infancy. I think it will all depend on how we react and respond to each other from here on in.

Life has been kind of hard lately. I trust it will get better.

finding dinamo

I feel like I've been AWOL. I've been placed in a foreign land (by my own choosing, I know, I know). Most of what felt like me has been left behind and I am faced with the task of reinventing my life in this new world.

I have good days and bad days. They usually alternate. This is different for me--I don't recall having so many days where I felt unsure of myself, sad, even isolated. But I am patient with myself as I kind of predicted that this could happen. Big transitions take time. It's like I am swimming, treading water, meanwhile reminding myself how beautiful the scenery is. I ordered this. For sure it is work, taking my energy and focus, yet I turn my attention to the positives on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis.

Although I am getting used to a lot of my surroundings, most of the time I still feel like an outsider. Will I ever feel like an Angeleno?

One little discovery which I now celebrate on a regular basis is the art of finding myself through drinking. Andy took me to a hipster bar he really likes and it turns out I like it too. Their whiskey pour is extremely generous...to the point where I cannot finish the whole glass and walk out of there. But I also feel like I fit there. It's dark and full of billowy fabrics and leather couches and the music is pretty eclectic and not blaring. It promotes conversation unlike most bars I've been in.

When I drink I start to feel alive again. I feel like it's safe to come out. The protective walls that I have built up around me are no longer needed. I feel sharper, prettier, more confident and basically, like I am frigging enjoying life like I am supposed to. There's a surge inside of me that reassures me YES, I CAN DO THIS. HOW GREAT IS THIS??!!

So I am suddenly a million bucks. I react to Andy in a better way. Admiring him again I give myself more freely, I think more about our future together. And I remember the dream more clearly. The clouds had been darkening the dream, but the alcohol seems to bring it back to me where it can remind me why I am here and give me the strength to move forward.

I need to have more fun and less fear. If alcohol helps me do that, then I'm all for it...in reasonable amounts, of course.

who am i?

Who have I become? Well, I guess that depends on who you ask. Don't ask me though, cuz I really don't know. I have too much time on my hands, and too little purpose.

As I am a doer, I am finding myself filling my day with follow up phone calls to companies who haven't done what they said they were going to do, educating myself on how to invest in mutual funds (dry, yes, but essential), turning off lights and electronic equipment that other people have left on, and rearranging everyone's dishes in the dishwasher to achieve maximum efficiency in a load.

OMG I need to get back to work! Before my roommates kick me out!

I am trying my damnedest not to judge other people's ability to relax when there are things to be done. I am trying to remember that one of my goals in moving here was to become more laid back and spontaneous. I am certainly drinking more :) and sleeping in more. And I do have sex more often, though more would be even funner!

Basically, I've been off of work for almost 2 months. I love to work (usually). It makes me feel important, it defines me. In the absence of professional me, I've let myself sink back into the housewife and mother role--yecch--which makes me feel kind of used and unrewarded. And frustrated! Just because I can cook and clean doesn't mean I want to take on those roles full-time.

And I'm not one to speak up (to Andy). Instead I just do it till I'm exasperated, shoot off little sarcasms, then I withdraw. I know that's not a very good way to solve the problem, but right now I am finding it hard to do the right thing. I don't have full control over who I am, so the last thing I feel like tackling is a conversation about who I want to be.

i found some nature

In one of my early LA adventures, Andy & I went for a mystery drive. It was about 6pm and we thought we'd head west to watch the sunset. Living in the Valley I assumed we'd eventually reach the edge of the mountains that encompass this valley. And from there I thought chances would be good that we could park somewhere and catch a gorgeous California sunset.

I wasn't too far off re: my geography. We drove maybe 20 minutes and we reached a higher elevation. We stumbled upon what looked like a state park. We parked in the park's parking lot. (ok, that was a fun use of the word park, but I'll stop now.)

We got out and looked to see the beautiful valley behind and below us. Ahead of us were yellow and brown grassy covered hills--mighty hills. I suppose these were part of the mountains. It was picturesque in a new kind of way. This was something I had not experienced before.

As we headed down a dirt path I was immediately struck by how dry everything was. The dirt was more like dust than dirt. It hadn't seen a drop of moisture in months, or so it appeared. As we walked, we stirred up little dust clouds with our feet. I could feel the dust/dirt on my face, in my mouth and on my eyeballs. Very weird sensation.

My second impression of this place was the silence that it held. It was....beautiful. Sweet, sweet silence broken only by the song of crickets, the flutter of birds' wings, and distant voices of hikers on the next hill. I stopped on the path and watched the silence just happen. It brought tears to my eyes. I felt Rob's spirit--my early hiking partner and Nature Boy extraordinaire. He would be happy that I had found some nature again.

Andy came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. He kissed a tear as it ran down my dusty cheek. We held hands and walked further down the path, talking a little and half listening for the rustling of rattlesnakes. I was not dressed for this. I'd worn flip flops which had now turned light grey from the dust. Ewww.

At one point on the path I caught the distinct scent of licorice. I commented, but Andy couldn't smell it. I would have thought it was my imagination, but at that same spot on the way back I smelled it again. I decided that anise must be growing wild there. Very cool. I think I must have been a bloodhound in a past life. I can detect the slightest scent.

It was hot. And dry. Who would be stupid enough to embark on this hike without bottled water? Us. In our defense, we were simply looking for a sunset. Because it was so damn hot and dry, we left before the sunset made its stand. Oh well. But on this adventure we found so much more than we expected. And the 6 pack of ice cold beer we bought at BevMo on the way home wasn't bad either!

seeking comfort

Three weeks in and I'm feeling the effects of my strange, new world. Moving from a small, affluent community in suburban Canada to the 2nd largest city in the US, it seems as if I've plunged into some weird sensory explosion, and deprivation, at the same time.

I took a major blow when I visited the DMV and tried to register my Canadian car, finding out that it cannot be registered anywhere in the US because it does not meet US safety standards. WTF I just bought it brand new a year ago. How could this be? Plus, I just fucking paid $1100 to ship it here! I panicked and it set me spinning, amplifying all the other things that were beginning to feel a bit 'challenging'...

...Like the traffic. LA traffic is notorious, second only to Toronto and possibly NYC, maybe Boston too. I can deal with masses of vehicles, but all these roads and routes are unfamiliar to me. And there are things I've never even heard of or seen before, like red curbs, and pedestrian crossings everywhere and notices about not blocking intersections or they will kill your firstborn. And if you have the fortune of evading the 8 hours of rush hour traffic per day, the 45 minutes you saved on your 10 mile journey will be spent finding legal parking that doesn't cost you your second born.

OK, I am venting right now. But seriously...have you ever driven in LA? Holy shit! It's not for the faint of heart. I come home exhausted every time.

I also need to bitch about the noise. At least a little. Our apartment is in a fabulous location near one of the busiest intersections in the Valley. Lots to see and do within steps of our door. But we're on the 1st floor on the street side and Andy loves to sleep with the window open for fresh air. PROBLEM. I tried to be a trooper, but I tell you I felt like I was lying between the double yellow lines, trucks whipping by me in all 6 lanes as I lay there trying to sleep. Yep.

I have not heard silence anywhere in weeks. I have not seen a squirrel in weeks. The only place I've seen birds is at the beach. I see very few dogs or children. I miss my dog. I miss chipmunks. I miss the sound of crickets. I miss falling asleep to the rain. I miss Rob's backyard. I miss Rob. I miss our deep conversations, and I miss the comfort of his shoulder. I miss the endless stroking of my hair that made the whole world disappear. Where I could feel safe and go limp. And not be on guard for cars coming out of nowhere or people telling me I just spent $1000 needlessly, or sirens at 3am that make me wonder who's dying now.

Waaah! Give me a space where I can at least have my private melt down. I need to let the tears fall. I need to wail, yeah, just wail as loud as I want where no one will hear or see me. I don't want Andy to worry that I'm unhappy, or that I want to go back, because I don't. I just need to let this out in my own way, in my own space, so that I can move forward.

our first fight

For the last 2 years Andy and I have been trying to have our first fight. It's hard to get in a fight when you adore each other to the point of sickening others. But I always thought that you can't really know a person until you have a fight. How they act during the fight and, maybe more important, after the fight, can show you a hell of a lot about someone's character. And when you're considering moving in with someone, this is pretty important shit.

Andy and I never had the opportunity to discover any of this before moving in together. Recently we were 'blessed' with our first conflict.

I could feel the tension building over a couple days. It started with the project of building 4 IKEA bookshelves together. It was mildly interesting (and annoying) to see how Andy thought he needed to take control of the project. When things needed to be opened with a razor knife, he had to do it. When screws needed tightening, Andy needed to do it. And nails needed to be hammered by the man too....hmmmm.

I guess I'm more of a feminist than I thought. He knows I'm capable of everything from laying a lineoleum floor to replacing a toilet to selling my own house, yet he needed to hammer the nails.

OK, we survived the IKEA test without any words or hard feelings. Two days later the movers finally delivered my furniture along with my 42 boxes. Needless to say after the long wait I was antsy to unpack and get things in their place. I felt like I'd been camping for 3 weeks.

Yes, I was a little stressed. Andy had whittled his stuff down to 'essentials', and so had I. But we still had stuff that needed a place in some cupboard, closet or shelf. I dealt with his collection of an estimated 250 t-shirts, CDs which filled an entire cabinet, and books and DVDs which filled 4 large bookcases. (Oh yeah, my books filled a shelf.) He dealt with my kitchen gadgets, china and pots and pans I couldn't part with, and my beloved dining room table with 8 chairs.

We managed to find space for stuff. I guess what sent me over the edge was how absorbed he was in listening to some crazy ass podcast for hours, totally oblivious to what I was doing. The one time I asked for help in my hours of unpacking he had said yeah, yeah, in a minute and then nothing... I even tossed my famous black skirt at him--the one I'd worn with nothing underneath that he'd thrown me over the side of the bed and licked my ass in--and he never even noticed.

That did it! I was pissed.

When Andy finally reentered the land of the living (ie, the podcast ended), I was sitting on the couch with steam shooting out of my ears. He said we should get ready soon to go out and meet his friend. Earlier I had really wanted to do this, but now I was in such a foul state that I knew it would be all bad. So I said no and explained why.

Well, Andy got defensive and said You know I would have helped you, all you had to do was ask me. I can't read your mind and I can't be accused of things I didn't even know. OK, you see where this is going...?

I took a few deep breaths and tried to remain calm while I explained what had transpired during his mesmerized state. I topped it off with the fact that he missed the black skirt attention-getting attempt. Just maybe that hit home for him.

Anyway, we forgave each other then, but we still went through levels of forgiving each other. I think in all it took Andy a couple days to work it out in his mind. I think he was a little shocked that we'd had a fight at all. I wasn't. It was a growing experience for us. I can't say I look forward to the next time, but hey, this is life and this life is exactly what I ordered.

insatiable wife

One of things I was most looking forward to about living with Andy was the constant access to sex. I love sex, I crave it, I seek it, it is one of my greatest joys. Sex via Skype can make one crazy over the long term. It's great for teasing, taunting, and relieving immediate tension, but it's just not enough. Eventually we need the real thing.

I am happy to say that I now have it! Andy isn't privy to the Dinamo nickname and its origin, but he is familiar with my sexual appetite. Let's just say he is a happy man since we moved in together. I love to please him in every sexual way and I am usually the initiator, though we are both very affectionate in a physical way all day long.

One of my favorite things to do is to say something really intimate and dirty to him when he is least expecting it, like when we're walking down the street looking in shop windows or something. And then I thoroughly enjoy his reaction. Today I told him what nasty things I think about while he's going down on me. He grabbed me and made some comment about his insatiable wife.

I love those Freudian slips . It's not the first time he's referred to me as his wife. He does it every now and then. I do too, in my mind, but I catch that husband word before I speak it. I know we're not close to married yet, but the fact that these slips happen means that we feel that close and familiar with each other. That makes me warm and fuzzy. And horny.

baby's no baby anymore

Keeping in touch with my 16 year old daughter Christie back east has not been easy since I moved out here. She's been living with her dad at a beach house on Lake Erie where the cell reception is horrible and internet signal intermittent. In another couple weeks she'll move out here with me, but until then I have to take a huge leap of faith that all is well.

Our best form of communication, unfortunately, has been Facebook. I rarely hear from her since I left, so when I received a message from her the other day asking me when I thought her last period was, I got concerned. I racked my brain to remember the approx date and made my best guess. I sent her my response to which she replied "I'm scared."

A little back and forth ensued till I got her to admit exactly what she was scared of. Maybe I'm pregnant or something. Which means that she and her boyfriend have had sex of some sort. Deep breath....

I didn't freak, but clearly I had concerns. Why did she break golden rule #2 (don't get near a penis without a condom)? How long had she been wondering, and is it too late to fix? What happened, when and where? How will I deal with this 'situation' from 2500 miles away??

I had always wished she would feel comfortable enough to talk me when she was thinking about having sex. Just a few weeks ago I'd broached the subject while we were driving in the car and she'd had such a shocked reaction that I erased that idea for another little while. But apparently it was just a cover. Oh well, the important thing is that she came to me with the problem.

As she was pretty panicked over the possibility of being pregnant at 16, we discussed her getting a preg test from the store as soon as possible. She said she'd take care of it. The day became night and I still hadn't heard back from her. The next morning I messaged her again I need to hear from you.

It seemed that her 19 year old sister Maria had told her it was probably nothing to worry about since 'he wasn't in her very long'. I gasped to myself. Unfortunately I had to raise the concern level with Christie again. Not that I wanted to panic her, I mostly wanted her to ACT. She/we needed to alleviate all fear as soon as possible.

So Maria was nice enough to go buy a test kit for her sister. After a few torturous hours (for me) it turned out negative, thank God. In the end, Maria told Christie she was an idiot for being so careless and gave her a couple condoms. I thanked her. Let's hope a huge lesson was learned here.

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not angry or disappointed that my 16 year old daughter has lost her virginity. In fact, if I'd been around I would have had a little private celebration with her. Sex is a beautiful thing, and one of life's greatest joys, especially if it's with someone you love. Cripe, I lost my viriginity at 14, so I'm damn happy she waited this long.

I am happy that she felt close enough to her boyfriend to want to experience sex with him, I just wish they hadn't been irresponsible about it. We'll be talking more about this when she arrives in a couple weeks. But for now I am breathing a big sigh of relief.

and away we go

As I boarded the plane on the first leg of my trip I tried not to cry. I'd just left everyone I loved (except Andy) behind. I had a seat all by myself in the 2nd row on a little commuter plane where I thought I could stew in my feelings.

Then appeared our flight attendant Shane. Shane was clearly destined for a successful Disney career with his well-delivered comedic script outlining all the flight safety instructions. Smoking is strictly prohibited on this plane. However, feel free to use our only designated smoking area located outside on the wing, so the rest of you can then enjoy today's feature presentation of Gone With the Wind. And my favorite line: ...and if this flight should suddenly turn into a cruise please use the floatation device located underneath your seat.

The next flight wasn't nearly as entertaining. For most of the 4 hours I slept off and on with the help of some earplugs. In my awake moments I thought of Mom. I thought of my sister Lynn and our teary hug last night, and of Annie my drinking buddy, and of leaving Christie behind for a few weeks, and my Maria who I hoped didn't hate me again. And I also thought of Rob who I was sure was thinking of me on such a pivotal day in my life.

Like my mood, the landscape of this United States of America changed every half hour. I love that about flying to California. It's always fun to wake up from a snooze and peek out the window to see some new fascination below you. As I watched the changing scenery I also noticed the shift in my state of mind. I emerged from a little sadness to acceptance to anticipation the more I thought about Andy waiting for me at the airport.

Goddamn, I am moving in with a man! It hits me every once in awhile as if it was a brand new thought. This is huge. There's seriously no turning back now, not that I'd want to. How exciting

this all is. Nine months in the making--what a friggin massive undertaking this has been. And the day really came. I did it. I really did it.

I landed at LAX after one of the best flights Ive ever had. I said to myself I am home, hoping my mother couldn't hear me because surely she'd correct me. Down the escalator I've rode only 3 times including today, and into the arms of my beloved Andy who arrived with his customary welcome bouquet.

Welcome home, Darlin'.

The drive to our new apartment took only 30 minutes. We loaded my things into our arms and headed up the elevator, around the corner and down the hallway to our door where he unloaded everything neatly in the hallway. He unlocked the door, picked me up into his arms and carried me across the threshhold.

the snub

My last chance to see my older daughter Maria before my move to LA was July 4th. I'd invited her to join my mom and me for fireworks (and asked her to bring Christie along as Christie is staying with her until the end of July when she'll join me in LA).

I'd been emotional and a little anxious all day. This was a day I couldn't call. I didn't know whether I'd get a heartfelt hug and 'see you soon in LA' or a fresh dose of guilt. What I did get was not enough of a good thing.

First of all, Maria brought 3 people with her (Christie and 2 friends). I saw them only sporadically through the day with no chance for a private conversation. And then it wasn't until 10pm, right as the fireworks were starting, that Maria and her friends joined us. Of course when the sky is boomin and beamin there's no room for conversation. She was also glued to her best friend the whole time.

I sat behind them on the blanket. I remember thinking that this is the last time for a long time that I will be sitting this close to Maria. I wondered did she care?

Soon the show was over and everyone was folding blankets and gathering their things for the walk back to the car. Christie gave me a big hug to last for the 3 weeks till I would see her again. As Maria started to walk away to her car I tapped her and said hey, time for a hug.

She dutifully turned to me and 'let' me hug her for a brief moment. When I told her I love you Maria, she pulled away and said *Sure* you do.

I was stunned emotionally, but not surprised at her reaction. If I was apprehensive about this day and what it all meant, I'm sure it was even more so for Maria. That's why she brought friends along for distraction and held close to her best friend like a suit of armor.

It was far easier for Maria to choose anger over sadness as anger has been her strength for years...or so she thinks. The thought of us moving 2500 miles away from her is still too much for her to accept. I know it'll take time and her acceptance will come and go, just like her moods.

As much as it sounds like I handled it all, it didn't roll off me so easy. My daughters and their friends walked to Maria's car, the rest of us walked to Mom's car. I walked alone in a crowd so noisy that nobody heard me sobbing into the rolled up blanket I was carrying, no, squeezing for dear life. It felt good to cry.

mom--a week of wisdom

Leaving friends, family and the place you've lived for 40+ years is not easy. There were many people I didn't want to say goodbye to. There has been some guilt along the way, but I seem to overcome that when I consider the big picture--the amazing opportunities for Christie and me.

I worried a little about the young girl who would 'take my place' at work, I worried about Rob feeling the loss of me, and I worried about Maria's feelings mostly in being so far away from her sister and me. But I knew they'd all find their way before long.

It's Mom who worried me most. Not really worry...but concern. She has shown the biggest reaction to my announcement of moving away. She's had a hard time the last couple years since a relationship ended and she hasn't had a fulfilling one since. So she seems to rely on her daughters more. And she referred to me as her rock more than once. She's had some physical complaints lately, which isn't really her character. I can't help but think they are psychosomatic.

So when I chose the closing date on my house and my flight date to LA, I built in a week to spend living at my mom's. And it's the best thing I could have done. It was good for her, and it was good for me.

Mom's house has been a perfect haven to chill down after the stress of coordinating a move and enduring months of chaos. It was just her and me, and quiet times. I finally had quality time to spend hanging out with her. I helped her with all the things she couldn't or didn't want to do on her own. She was the epitome of gratefulness. And it felt really good to take care of her. I may have even spoiled her!

As our last few days together came to a close, I was worried that we'd had no heart-to-heart conversations about my leaving. Every time I'd brought it up, she'd say I don't want to talk about it. I'll enjoy the now and just do what I have to do when the time comes. I never forced her to talk about it, and still wonder if that was smart. I know from experience that feelings trapped inside can fester into something not so good. But I didn't have the heart to bring out her pain.

Instead, we enjoyed the still mornings waking up to birds chirping outside her bedroom window, were amused at her inability to form a complete sentence before finishing her 2nd cup of coffee in the morning and we appreciated the opportunity to take care of each other in ways we both needed and had not been able to do in the last 30 years living apart.

At the 5:30 am drop off at the airport the day I left, Mom was the brave soldier she'd always told me to be whenever I was afraid as a child. I stood on the sidewalk at my drop off point, suitcase at my side, as she came out for the hug. I'd been strong and tearless up to this point, which was easy to do as I reflected her. But the hug broke the floodgates and I had to swallow hard to contain my emotion.

She looked at me and said Now go write a beautiful chapter! I smiled through the blur and turned towards my new life.

our last goodbye

For the last 9 months I'd been wondering what it would feel like to see Rob for possibly the last time, to 'say our goodbye'. There were times when I cried just imagining it. More than a few. And his probably outnumbered mine.

Last Saturday we'd gone out to dinner at that Thai restaurant and ran into Annie and her husband out of the blue. Dinner was so-so, to be honest, but we laughed a lot and enjoyed being together. I'd just come out of an extremely enotional week, so the fact that I may have been all out of tears probably helped.

After dinner we went to Rob's house. We didn't drink (also good for keeping the emotions at bay). We talked for a short bit then had a snuggle. Like two kittens we curled up in an old familiar position we'd known for the 4 years we'd known each other. I lay my head on his chest with his arm around me and he touched my hair with his other hand. It was very sweet and comforting, as Rob is. A tear trickled down my cheek onto his shirt, but only one.

I was proud of me. I was proud of us. We didn't drag it out, we didn't purge our souls and pour out our feelings. We didn't need to make it painful. We hugged, and smiled, and I walked away.

Bye for now.

coincidence not

So you know how connected Annie and I have become over the last few weeks? Weirdest thing happened last Saturday. The night before, when we were out partying, I had told her I was going out to dinner on Saturday with my old boyfriend (Rob). It was to be our 'goodbye' dinner.

So, unbeknownst to Annie, Rob and I decided to go to this Thai restaurant we'd been to a couple times before. It's about 20 mins from our neighborhood. We got there and we were seated in the back dining area which I didn't even know existed. We're having a good time accidentally tossing our shrimp crackers on the floor and almost lighting our table on fire with the little grill they gave us for our chicken satay...when in walked Annie and her husband.

They were seated at the table right behind us. We saw each other and did our OMGs, introductions and hugs, then we each attempted to have a normal dinner. It took me almost a half hour to shake off the weirdness of it all and stop talking about it before our conversation returned to normal. Rob was a good sport. He later commented how stunning she is--no shit Sherlock. He offered (to me) that if she ever needed a mercy fuck, he'd be most willing. I felt like saying get in line mister.

The next morning I messaged Annie my WTF, wasn't that weird? She said that they had never even been to that restaurant before, but heard it was good so they decided to go. It is my belief that there are no coincidences. I've come to accept that these things happen to people who are connected. We attracted this all on our won, but it still never ceases to amaze me.

and it makes me wonder

I sat next to Annie at the club where we were watching this great cover band do some of my favorite tunes--and some not-so-favorites. But I swear they even made the very tired 'Stairway To Heaven' sound alive again.

Our friendship first ramped up about 6 weeks ago when we decided to have a celebratory drink before I moved. Since that first night out where we got drunk and Annie confessed that she wants out of her marriage, she seems to have glommed onto me. Her story is eerily familiar: married about 19 years, kids now practically grown, workaholic husband who has lost himself, his lust for life and for her, and now they don't know how to dig themselves out of the hole created by years of a routine existence.

On the outside they're the picture of perfection--fancy house, fancy toys, over-achieving kids, nice looking couple (well, that's an understatement when it comes to Annie), the dog, the bank account etc. But inside they're dying. She recognizes it and sees a way out. He is hanging on for dear life, but doing nothing to change any of it. In my mind it's over because she says it is.

This was my story, almost verbatim. So she KNOWS I understand. And she trusts me. I broke through it all successfully, and now I am about to embark on a pretty incredible adventure. Annie wants to feel that too. Since I am the only one she has shared those feelings with, she has been all over me lately. And with added desperation because I am moving away.

She wants to go out drinking like every weekend. It's been sweet. I have helped her where I can, and have certainly given her hope for her future. But she doesn't really need my help. I have no doubt she will come through this and find the joy she seeks. She is a smart cookie who knows exactly what she wants and needs.

What I have found most distracting in the meantime is that she is so SO beautiful. I have always admired her beauty since I first met her about 15 years ago, but she is still utterly stunning today at 45+. Hanging out drinking and talking I sometimes find myself totally distracted by her looks and her sweetness. I mean I became very aware of my attraction to her as she was talking to me. I think with a couple drinks I could easily cross the line into a sexual experience with her. I can imagine myself appreciating every inch of her femininity.

How weird is that (to admit)?! And then my thoughts go even further into imagining her visiting Andy and me in LA, staying with us, and sharing our bed. Holy cow, he would be...well...overwhelmed. I think I could love her body and mind and soul. She would make it damn easy to be bisexual.

I have never been with a woman, and have only felt a mild attraction to a woman once before. But I'll tell ya, sitting next to her in a bar with good music and a couple drinks in us, I was tempted to say something. Then I thought of my responsibility to her as a friend, and was aware of her vulnerability. I did what I think was the wise thing, and left this all in fantasyland.

Which isn't to say that I won't bring the fantasy into the bedroom. I think Andy might enjoy that almost as much as the real thing.

going over the rainbow

I couldn't help but think of Rob every time I listened to this Amos Lee song. These lyrics in particular speak of our relationship and all he's had to accept in the last couple years. To love me and toknow he has to let me go because he loves me.

I'm in love with a girl,
Who's in love with the world,
Though I can't help but follow.
Though I know some day,
She is bound to go away,
And stay over the rainbow.
Gotta learn how to let her go.
Over the rainbow.

Sometimes we forget who we got,
Who they are
Or who they are not.
There is so much more in love,
Than black and white.
Keep it loose child,
Gotta keep it tight.
Keep it loose child,
Keep it tight.

the joy of giving

When you're sorting through your shit preparing to move, you have to seriously consider what's worth paying $1/lb to ship across the country.

Although I scored a small fortune on the sale of my house I'm still frugal at heart. But I'm not frugal with my heart. Oddly enough this shipping dilemma has led to a new kind of joy. The joy of giving.

There are certain things I own that have great sentimental value, but seriously, I knew they would not belong in my new life or our new apartment. I did not want to sell these things to strangers or donate them to Goodwill. I wanted to choose a new home for them.

My rocking chair was hard to part with. This was the chair I sat in endless hours as I nursed Christie as a baby. It squeaked a lot and it wasn't very pretty, but it holds such sweet memories. Like the dents left in the side of Christie's little head, caused by the wooden arms her head rested against as I cradled and breastfed her. She was so in her glory nursing, that she ignored the pain on her head and was left with little indents after her feeding. And in that chair I used to sing Elton John songs to her until she fell asleep. Daniel was her favorite.

It was hard to let that rocker go, but one of my friends has a niece who just had a baby. They don't have a lot of money, so I thought this would help. Plus I wanted to give it to someone I knew or someone I had even a distant trail to. Dunno, makes me feel better.

Then there was a piece of art I purchased when I moved into my house 4 years ago. Nymph of the River by Frederic Leighton. A demure young nymph stands at the edge of a river curious, about to dip her toes into the water. I loved this print and it hung across from my bed for the last 4 years. To me it symbolized my newly rediscovered sexuality. I embraced all it stood for and it watched over me as I became a sex goddess again, or so I was told.

Although I still love the piece, it would have been a real misfit among Andy's art collection in our new apartment. I also felt it would be a source of inspiration to my friend Annie who is standing at the same crossroads I was at 5 years ago. She's teetering on the edge of freedom with a renewed passion for living. I fully support her and to give her this print was a symbol of my friendship, love and support.

The real joy was in the fact that she loved it and understood my intent completely. The nymph has found a new home. I feel good and soon Annie will too.

learning what you mean to people

This shouldn't surprise me, but oddly it does, sort of. It's something you kind of know in the back of your mind, but not something you feel very often...

What you mean to people.

It's common to feel your importance as it's reflected back from your children. Especially when they're little, they neeeed you and they appreciate you, and absolutely thrive on your love. They show it often. But adults rarely do, unless they are lovers, of course.

Because I am about to move far, far away, I've started saying some goodbyes. The farewell celebrations have begun, and I am wrapping up loose ends one after another. It is in these times that people reach out in unexpected ways.

The company I work for has a strict policy against going away parties. It was my current boss of 3 years, whom I've often referred to as a witch, that threatened to fire us if we so much as brought a cake into the office for a coworker who had resigned. A pretty strong statement.

So you can imagine my reaction when I found out there was going to be a surprise party for ME after work one night at a winery. And I was absolutely floored when I found out it was my boss's idea. W...o...w. I turned around, buried my head in the computer and got a little choked up where no one could see me. It means something.

This weekend I had my last visit with my naturopath. I haven't blogged about him, but I'll tell ya, he has had a real impact on my life and my health. I love the guy. I'd like to stuff him in my pocket and take him with me to California.

My health is just about perfect because of his incredible knowledge, skill and CARE. He knows my weak spots, the way I think, how I sleep, even my bowel habits. And he's brought me through my life's most challenging times--my separation, dealing with the disappointment of Cam (heartbreak!!), and rejection by my daughter Maria (more heartbreak!), choosing between Rob and Andy...the list goes on. He's helped me heal many times. And my daughters too, on a lesser scale.

When the visit neared an end, he asked for a hug (which is very unusual for him--he's like a little brainiac scientist). Of course, I gave him one. I said how we'd been through a lot together. He said Yeah, you and Christie were my first patients. Nine years ago... He thanked me for those 9 years.

That kinda floored me. We said our goodbyes and he left to see the next patient. As soon as he left the room I wept. I put on my big dark sunglasses and shot out of there so no one would see me bawl like a baby. Which I did all the way home. Gosh...