I Finally Did It

I forgot to tell y'all... I finally cut my hair!! (pictures coming soon... no, silly, not of me and my new hair cut, but of the two long braids.)

At least 15 inches came off into two braids. Then I got more chopped off during my haircut for a total of at least 20 inches. OK, I know that I've lost the guys attention (so what's the deal with guys and long hair anyway??), but I have bangs and it's in layers (short and choppy) and THE MAN loves it. He helped me finally get rid of the locks that were constantly knotting, always pulled back and doubled into a ponytail, and usually hid under a baseball cap.

He kept on encouraging me to get it cut even though he loves long hair because he knew how much it was irritating me. Work and DB keep me pretty busy, and with Yontiff my schedule was just insane. I was going out to visit him and a friend of mine (more on that later) suggested I use her guy. Believe it or not I actually scheduled an appointment AND WENT!! Not until after I walked into the place did I find out that Mr. Rose had already paid for my cut. HOLY MOLY!!! Who is this man???

Before I got the cut I warned him that I would probably cry afterwards. It's kind of traumatic to lose that much hair even if you want to, it's for a good cause, and it's been driving you bonkers. Also told him that I would probably hate my new hair cut, and the best thing for him to do was to constantly tell me that it looks great, he really likes it even if he thinks it's the ugliest thing, and even if I tell him that I know it's ugly or to stop saying those things to me. That's some advice for you guys too. That is if you can remember when she gets her haircut or actually notice it. OK, OK, that wasn't fair, but c'mon most of you never say anything and it doesn't matter if she covers her hair. The woman in your life would appreciate hearing something nice. OY! Didn't mean to give a shmooze. Sorry.

So he picks me up and I don't even want him looking at me. I'm fussing with my hair because the guy styled it towards my face and UGH!! I hate that!!! We get back home, and that's when the tears start. Of course, he's been telling me the whole ride how much he likes it and I've been telling him I don't and I know how horrible it is.

The mirror is calling as soon as I walk in the door and I'm trying to fix my hair so that even if I won't feel pretty at least I'll be a little happier. Then I realize that I don't have anything to use on my hair. Mr. Rose immediately suggests that we go out and get stuff. OMG!!! This man is just 'da best! CVS here we come. I spend about twenty minutes trying to find what I want, and they just didn't have it. BUT he buys me the some of the stuff I was looking at anyway!!! Makes you want to kiss him... and I did.

Later on we went food shopping so that I could cook for Shabbos and Yontiff and the 14 guests we were having for one of the meals, and there it was... my gunk. The stuff I put in my hair. He got a kick out of the name and I'm sure y'all will too... Bed Head. Kind of appropriate for me. Isn't it???

I was able to do my hair the way I like it and I was really happy with the hair cut, but the wonderful man kept on telling me that he loves the way it looks. I told him he didn't have to anymore and he said he wasn't telling me because he thought I needed to hear it, but because he thinks I look great. I know, I know, I'm not letting him go. He's not Mr. Perfect, but I'm not interested in perfect. I want him.

It's been a couple of weeks and I still like my hair so much so that I'm going to get it cut out by Mr. Rose from now on.

IMPORTANT!!! The reason I grew my hair and cut it.

I'm donating my hair to Zichron Menachem in Israel. They make human hair wigs for children who have lost their hair due to cancer

• Hair needs to be a minimum of 25 cm (10 inches) long - when braided.
• The hair should be tied with a rubber band at both ends - before it is braided and cut.

Braids should be sent (enclosed in a plastic or zip-lock bag) to:
Israel:
Zichron Menachem
P. O. Box 16383
Jerusalem, 91163

In the USA:

The Children's Bridge of Zichron Menachem
39 West 37th Street 3rd Floor
New York, NY 10018

In the UK:
The British Friends of Zichron Menachem
30 Brookside Road #306
London NW119NE

Missing

Hot tears and aching sobs
fill
his voice in my ear cannot place his arms around me
or let me look into his eyes

I pick a fight because the hurt has to go somewhere
out
into the world away from my soul
I want my life filled with smiles
not swallowed loneliness

Knowing that we will be together soon only intensifies the pain
that laughs at me for my foolish fears.

It Seems Like Forever

...that I haven't written. It's only been about three months. It also seems like it's forever since I met Mr. Rose. Y'all remember him. The man who was good to me, who is good to me... so good to me. I've never experienced in my life anything near what he has given me; in support, caring, understanding, patience, and most importantly love.

I feel safe and secure with him in so many ways. I trust him with my emotions and I also trust him to stick around. He is the first man that I've ever introduced to DB as someone I'm dating. Not only that I tell him I love him within DB's earshot, and he's seen me hug him.

Now that's a huge step. I can't begin to write how my life has changed since he's become a part of it. UGH!!! That sounds so, actually most of this post sounds so, so ummmm.... so mushy, so lovey dovey, so grossifyingly sweet. It's just got to stop.

OK, so let's talk about fighting. I've had a couple disagreements with him. I've also pulled away from him... very far away. And he's still hung around. He wouldn't let me run away from him, but he gave me the room I needed to come back. This man is unbelievable. OK, OK, I've started gushing again. Yes, it's ridiculous.

The funny thing is that I never would've picked him for me. I mean c'mon he's about 11 years older, he lives in a different city, and before I started dressing him... well, he just didn't care that much. Yes, he dressed neatly. And yes, he wore clean clothes, but he dressed plainly. You could tell that he hadn't really bought anything for himself in quite some time. So, his daughter and I had fun together and got him some shirts and ties, pants, cashmere sweaters (so yummy to cuddle up to when he's in them, and yes he's yummy to cuddle up to when he's not in them {take that as you will}) a nice pair of cashmere lined leather gloves for Shabbos, a cashmere scarf, and a new suede hat.

He looks good!!!! And he also smells good. I told him how I like cologne on a man, and he went out to get some. Then he wrote a little screenplay about his search for the right scent. He's smart, witty, and knows what to say to me (in many different ways). He's the man! My man.
In case you can't tell, I've got it bad for him.

Oh! Forgot to tell you about the jewelry he gave me for my b-day, how my family loves him, how he sticks up for me, and how comfortable DB is around him.

Every time he reminds me of how long we've been dating (it was just our 4 month anniversary), we laugh because it seems like we've been together forever, even if it's such a short time and yet we look back and realize how far we have come.

Yes, he is the one who's been keeping track. I still get roses. He cleans my apartment and peels 10 lbs. of potatoes without a single complaint. HE DOES THE FREAKIN' DISHES!!! WOW!!! and believe me the man is not pussy whipped. He has a mind of his own and a strength that just attracts me to him like you wouldn't believe.

Don't really want to get into our sex life. OMG!!!! Can you believe that I'm writing that?!?? Me, Miss My Bed Is An Open Book. But it's personal. Whoa!!! I get freaked out sometimes in this relationship. I can't believe the things I now say and do. Anyway, I'll write more later. just wanted to update and let some of you know what's going on in my life. Plus I might want to one day look back and read this with him and laugh and laugh!

A Man With A Slow Hand

Mr. Rose came to town. The funny thing about it was that I wasn't shy when I saw him again. Yes, I know, it doesn't make sense, especially after you've read about me but I do get shy on occasion.

When Mr. Rose and I first met I had a hard time meeting his eyes with mine. But not yesterday.

Anyway, on to the good stuff. He came to Oz just to see me. I had a meeting and work so we didn't even get to spend that much time together, BUT what time we did have was, ummmm, well spent. ;-) Again, y'all have your minds in the gutters. I'm referring to dinner together and then a long walk around my neighborhood while we talked and enjoyed being with one another. The air had cooled. The stars were out, and sweat didn't coat our palms when we held hands. Couldn't ask for more...

Speaking of hands, that's always one of the first things that I always notice about a man, and not for the reason that most of you think. Hands denote strength and security to me which I find very sexy.

The hands on Mr. Rose are wonderful and he knows how to use them. Boy, does he ever!!! One word - WOW! I couldn't get enough of them. My body is reacting just thinking about him and what he can do with them. WHOA NELLIE!!

I got another package from him today. It included an alarm clock and two movies. You need an alarm clock when you're busy and not getting too much sleep.

He went back home today, and I went to work. I'm tired and can't sleep because... Well, I'll just leave that one to your imagination.

btw-Hit my head on the night table and the wall. Don't even ask

I Had To Share

Steg wrote a wonderful post on Korach or should I say Qorahh. Go read it here.

A Visit

Mr. Rose is coming to Oz to have dinner with me. We talk everyday, and I've been getting to know him better as a person, friend and especially a man. He sent me more music and his understanding of who I am blows me away. He is kind and loving which is something that I have been searching for but there is so much strength and passion contained within him. I thought that I might have to forgo that.

Even if things don't work out between us, I have learned so much about myself from him.

But I think I just might want to give it a try.

btw-Tripped GOING UP the stairs to work yesterday. Everyone, including me, got a good laugh out of that one.

No Pressure

Haven't really given y'all the low down on Mr. Rose and his trip to Kansas. He has friends in Kansas, but it was easier all around to have him stay with some of my relatives. There were a lot of cousins interested in hosting him, but I wanted him to feel comfortable so I made sure he had his own floor including choice of bedrooms and bathroom.

I got into Kansas all gross from working and then traveling, and the first place I went was to see him. Points for Mr. Rose that he didn't run screaming for the hills. He then went on to tell me that I look better than my pictures. I beg to differ. I think he was just excited that I'm a real live person and not a figment of his imagination.

He had already sent me flowers, books, and music, but the next thing I know I have a box of chocolates in my hand and am told that I don't even need to share. WHOA!!! Y'all know how I feel about chocolate. Not only that he brought me more music, he has great taste, two toys for DB and... a brand new tool belt. That's the way to this woman's heart!!!

I like working with my hands... in numerous ways. Get your minds out of the gutters!! ;-) I crochet, knit, needlepoint, replace light fixtures, toilets, faucets, sinks, vanities, not to mention working on my car. I like to get my hands dirty. Believe it or not I have never owned a tool belt, and there have been many occasions when one would've come in handy, repairing the ceiling fan is just one of them.

All I can say is he really listens to me and then thinks about me when getting me something. Unbelievable. I'm blown away.

Well, he obviously feels something for me. He's been telling me in letters, phone calls, and now in person, but I'm a little uncomfortable. Things are moving way too fast on his part. Yes, Petey, I know I fall easily, but Mr. Rose has fallen harder and faster.

He was going to come to Oz for Shabbos, but we're slowing things down a bit. He's totally cool with that. WOW!!! Is he too good to be true?!?!?

Wasn't able to finish the post last night...

Stopped at Home Depot today. It's one of my favorite toy stores, and finally picked up a new ceiling fan for the kitchen. I was going to install it tonight after I changed the light switch in the bedroom, BUT had to go pick up DB from a sleepover party. He's still not comfortable quite yet sleeping at a friend's house. So I now owe Mr. Rose a nickel. I told him I could have the fan installed tonight and he bet against me.

It seems like he has an idea of who I am. He started talking about firemen, and how being stuck in Home Depot with one would make me a happy woman.

Bye Bye

Lots Going On

I heard from Mr. B tonight, and he really wants to go out again. BUT he understands that I have a lot going on right now. It was very considerate and understanding of him... so maybe I'll think about it. In the meantime, we're just going to be friends.

I had a wonderful Shabbos with Mr. Rose. He's a good, sweet man, but I just don't know. We went out Sat. night too. Of course I had to prove how amazingly graceful I was and fell off some bleachers (onto the grass). At least ,there was no blood just some bruises and a red face.

BGB also called tonight and we had fun talking for awhile. It looks like we might get together sometime soon.

And I really have to get back to someone on Frumster who wanted to set me up with a friend of his. GEEZ LOUISE!!! Just when I don't have time everyone is interested. WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?!??!?

Dylan

It ain't me...

Writing 6

Danny left before Stacy did.

They had talked about it on their walks around the grounds and knew that one of them would end up leaving the hospital before the other. It took Danny awhile to earn the privilege to leave the building unescorted, but once he did the four of them would slowly wander down the shaded blacktop driveway to the gate. As soon as they were out of eyesight of the guards and cameras, they would separate into couples. Danny and Stacy. Ted and Amy. Or sometimes the guys would be stuck with each other while the girls went off to talk.

At first he was left inside, while Stacy was out walking with Ted. Danny knew there was no reason to be jealous, but that didn't stop the dark emotion from bubbling inside him. The window grills separated and marked them as wild animals with strange patterns. They were roaming free and he had to watch while Stacy and Ted slowly left his view.

It was easy for him to move up to GP (grounds privileges). He wasn't in for wanting to hurt himself or others just for the pain that was swallowing him. He wanted to ask Stacy to come out with him, but was afraid that would be too obvious. Danny waited until the chance finally presented itself, and he asked to join her and Ted and have them show him around.

The heat felt good as the sweat started to bead on the back of his neck. It was like the doors opening at the end of a long flight when the temperature stayed the same and the recirculated air tasted stale. Danny wasn't sure if it was the smell of honeysuckles or Stacy's skin that left him dazed from a sugar high. "Danny.... Danny?"

He woke to Stacy's hand on his arm. "Are you alright?"

He shook off the light touch thinking a bug had landed and saw her eyes look into his. Dark, and haunted.

Stacy asked him again and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. It was dry like the cotton the dentist would use. He was nervous that his deep voice would startle her to turn from him. He managed a "mmm hmmm." She glanced into his eyes again, and he could only think of how he wanted those deep pools to sparkle in the sun. A butterfly landed on his shirt and for the first time he heard her sweet laugh and it fell like soft rain cooling his skin.

Alive

Drowning in his passion
breathing his kisses
to live
a golden chain of desire drags my heart to him
across my barren soul of doubt

to be found in his arms
waking to dreams
unsure of the reality of love
confused by the calm in his knowing

trusting the safety of his understanding
his words dig into my chest and pound life into my blood
pushing deeper into me
I yield to the truth that this is what is meant to be

Writing 5

There came the time when the show could no longer go on. Danny just couldn't do it. It took too much effort to be the person, the people others wanted him to be. He decided to cancel the act but couldn't find the lines to say that fit who he really was. He was lost in other's ideas of "Danny."

The only thing he knew was the pain. The ache in his empty soul that only tears could fill. He was afraid that if he let out the flood it would wash away any slight remainder of who he thought he might be. What Danny didn't realize was that the water could be a refuge and tears could transform him in a pool of rebirth.

He made the decision to go to the hospital on a hot sunny day. He was cold inside and couldn't even be bothered to fake a return smile to the people who claimed they cared about him. He wanted his life back.

No, what he really wanted was a life of his own choosing with the ability to feel all that the world had to offer him; to travel through suffering and pain with tears and anger and arrive at happiness and accomplishment with love and sharing.

What Danny desired was understanding... of who he himself was. What he didn't realize was that he desperately wanted someone else there to be able to do that with him.

And that is how he came to love Stacy. She stood silently and accepting beside him with patience in her slow breaths, and scars of suffering dotted with faded marks from stitches up and down her arms.

The Next Best Thing

Mr. Rose sent me music... Van Morrison and Warren Haynes. I don't know what the order of these things are but flowers, books, and music are the top three and he sent them all.

Impressive.

In The Air

The words we don't speak
hang in the air between us
trying to reach through to love
past frustration and anger at circumstances
It's still there
I can't hide it, run from it, forget it
or cry it away.

What's Next?

I was speaking to Mr. Rose on the phone today, and he told me check my mail when I got home. Then he quickly stated that he didn't send me flowers, and he wouldn't answer any of my questions about what it was that I should be looking for.

Waiting at my door was a package from Amazon. Books! He sent me books!!

WOW! First flowers and now books. This man definitely pays attention to what I like, plus there was another sweet note from him too.

Broken

Writing 4

He wanted the ache to stop, and the tears locked inside his chest to evaporate. He didn't want people to know how much he hurt and why. The thing is he didn't even want to admit it to himself. Most of the time he was pretty good at acting like everything was fine. "The Danny Show" was what he called it to himself. There were only a couple people he let behind the curtain and even then he didn't or couldn't express everything that was going on with him.

How could he when he didn't understand it himself? All he knew was the frustration, the pain, the longing, and the dreams. "How did he get here?" Was something he asked himself every so often and then he would stuff the questions down and try to forget about them. He would clear his head with a slight shake of no and get back into character.

Make A Wish

Just something that was easy and fun to write



Sometimes it would catch her by surprise. She would look at the clock and there it would be staring at her waiting for her dreams.... 11:11 "Make a wish." That's what her friends had taught her. And she would.

When she first learned about it the wishes were of ponies, a new bike, pink ballet slippers, and a brand new baseball glove that had to be broken in with saddle soap, a baseball in the pocket, secured with rubber bands and then put under your mattress.

She wasn't all girlie girl. Her best friend David could attest to that. Hell, with a nickname like Frankie you knew she didn't sit at home polishing her fingernails waiting for a boy to call.

Baseball was what brought them together. They became friends that first day at camp when she stole his favorite hat from his sweaty head and took off running. She wore it the rest of the day and it didn't bother her that it had never been washed. It was the summer before both of them were going into fourth grade, and they were inseparable.

It's not that they were outcasts. They both had friends of the same sex. It's that they were most comfortable when it was just the two of them . They understood each other. Her friends (girls) didn't get it when she talked rbi's, era's, and her dreams to play shortstop. Day's friends (boys) didn't understand his love of reading and writing. When they were together there was an easiness; conversations switching between how their team could've lost last night's game to which book was their favorite that week.



They hated the teasing, and they got it a lot. Their parents, friends and siblings just wouldn't let up. She was the only girl invited to his bar-mitzvah and as soon as he said hello at the party they both heard the kissy sounds of his classmates. He told her they were jealous when he saw the tears in her eyes as she ran from the party. And it was then that he realized that they probably were and with good reason.

She was special and even if she was only a buddy, she was his.

It took her longer to realize. All through high school, he listened to her as they would throw the ball around, about this guy or another. He never told her how he felt. He was always afraid she would laugh and think he was joking. She dated almost every guy in his class and some in the classes above and below. The almost was that she didn't date him.

It was the summer after their graduation when he told her. They were both going away to school, and he was afraid he would lose her to a college guy. He had almost lost her earlier that year. He remembered listening to her talk once again about how she felt about someone other than him, except this guy wanted to marry her. It shocked him into action.

She laughed while talking about it. Finding it so very funny that someone could even think of her in that way. She still loved baseball and hanging with the boys. She couldn't see herself as someone's wife and then later as a mom.

He took another look at the girl he loved and realized that she wasn't a girl anymore. Other people saw her as a young woman with a brilliant smile that would light up her eyes even if they were hidden behind glasses and under that ever present baseball hat.

Again

When did things get so intense?

I just spent awhile going through some old letters, and started remembering how much fun I had/have with you. It made me smile and laugh. I relaxed while thinking about you doing and saying silly things.

Sometimes you just need to enjoy each other's company. And that's me talking to myself. I know you are well aware of this and have been trying to knock it into my head.

I like you and spending time with you. That's it.



btw-Don't even try and think that you knew I would do this!!!! You sooooooo didn't.

Haveil Havalim - The Celtics Must Lose

Haveil Havalim #169 is up and Jack did a great job even while watching The Lakers.

btw-#169 not #168

I Hope You Dance

Trying To Forget

I've been trying to forget him. It hasn't been working too well, but maybe now it will. It's good-bye.

I wrote these two posts before. I put one up and took it down... hoping.



Surprised

That he didn't say good-bye.

But should I be? What else am I to think?

There is so much to write and say that the words are stuck in my chest and have started climbing to my throat along with the ache. I won't allow it to go any further. I'll swallow it down. I won't allow myself to hurt like this. I won't have to worry about hanging in limbo.

Maybe it was all of my own making. Maybe I saw more in him than was really there. Maybe it's just not meant to be. Maybe he just discovered who I really was or thinks he has. Maybe he has too much going on. Maybe he's just too tired, lazy, afraid or doesn't feel what he thought was there. And maybe I shouldn't be coming up with excuses for him. He's just not that into me. That's it... plain and simple.

I opened myself up to him more than I have done with any other man I've known, felt more for him than I thought was possible. I'm glad I did. I hope he has a good life and will be happy. I know that I will.

Goodbye



I'm Not So Smart

Sometimes, I'm just not so smart. I don't need to be hit over the head with a baseball bat to realize that someone just doesn't feel the same way. Yeah, I'm beating myself up.

I just thought... I just thought he cared the way I did. It shouldn't hurt to know that he doesn't. It should make me feel better. It should make me feel relieved and even happy, but it doesn't. I'll miss him.

He made me smile and feel good inside. But then he also made me cry. I just wasn't going to do it in front of him. I never felt that way for someone, and there's no way in hell I'm going to let myself feel that way again. It just hurts too much.

I'm going to forget him, and everything about him.

I'm strong. I may not be smart sometimes, but I'm strong enough to get through this. And I'm not stupid enough to let myself get hurt like this again. I wish I didn't feel. I wish the pain would just leave the way he has. It hurts.

I know that I deserve someone who wants me. But you know what, I don't think I'm going to open myself up to that.

He's A Nice Guy

...but it's not going to work. Mr. B came by to take me out tonight. I like him, he's sweet, but there's something that's not there. Or maybe there's something that is there.

It annoyed me that he was on his way over before I even told him that I would go out with him tonight. I'm not a foregone conclusion, and I don't like being taken for granted. I told him he was not going to be invited in and he still asked me a couple of times. We'll be friends with maybe some csbf, but that's it. I think he really is a little too young for me.

Mr. Rose does not live in Oz. He mentioned last night that he wants to meet me as soon as possible so it looks like we will be getting together for a weekend in Kansas. We've got a lot in common. He also loves the wind and water and wants to take me to the ocean.

A New Friend

The man 11 years older than I am called me tonight to ask if I got anything today. I had a busy day and didn't get a chance to get the mail or see if the doorman had anything for me. While he was on the phone with me I went downstairs got the mail and.... two dozen gorgeous roses. The picture here doesn't even do them justice.

We haven't even gone out yet, and he wasn't being pushy at all. In fact he signed the card, "Your friend." The rest of the note said, "Thank you for being you and putting a smile on my face."

I opened the box up and tears immediately came to my eyes. Y'all know how much flowers mean to me and these are amazingly beautiful flowers. He told me that he chose the colors too, pink, red, orange, and lavendar in a red vase.

He has just given himself his name... Mr. Rose

btw-Mr. B made sure to call today, and tell me what a good time he had last night. He also wanted to make a date for tomorrow night, but I might be getting ready to go to Kansas.

OORAH!!!!

I ended up going out on the date tonight and I just got home. My cold was just about gone this afternoon so I didn't cancel on Mr. B. We had a very good time, and I saw Steve from Sex And The City.

Actually I had a very, very good time. He was sweet, had nice manners, handsome and...

OORAH!!!

That's the best way to describe it. Let's just say the man knows what he's doing, and does it well!!!!

Sick

I really dislike summer colds. In the winter it's expected to have a scratchy throat and cough. In the summer it's just plain miserable.

I have a date tonight. Yes Petey, I actually said yes. BUT I feel horrible, disgusting is more like it. My head feels like it weighs twenty pounds, my nose is stuffed up, my eyes are glassy, and I sound like a frog.

I don't want to cancel, but I feel sooooooooo unattractive. I know he's going to be disappointed, but I can't even hear clearly. I can see myself saying "What?" the whole date.

I haven't given this guy a name yet. It's the one who's 10 years younger than I am. The name that keeps popping into my head is Mr. Baby, but I just can't call him that. OH! How about Mr. B? Yup, that's his name.

Now, onto the guy I spoke to last night. The one who's 11 years older than I am, and wants to come to Oz to see me next week. I need a name for him too. Can't think of one. Give me some time. My brain is moving slower with this head cold.

I like these men, and then there's the third one who's a musician. Yup, a musician. Y'all know how I feel about them. But the third man isn't going to work. Too many differences... although, that doesn't mean that we can't have fun.


I'm just not sure I'm ready to date right now. UGH!

I also forgot about the singer that someone wants to set me up with. This is ridiculous.

And all I'm thinking about is one man that I don't even want to speak too.

Writing 3

It was summertime when he was admitted. Whenever he told the story that’s the word he used… not committed. Committed reminded him of commitment and love and he certainly didn’t feel that way about the hospital, about Stacy, yes, but not about that place.

Packing, driving there and even entering the building didn’t bother him. It was when he walked onto the unit. Keys had to be used to open the door, and when it closed he was extremely aware that he wasn’t the one holding them. In his ears, the soft sound of the door clicking shut echoed like the clang of prison bars. He felt like an inmate and was stuck inside just like one.

There were a couple of sofas, two tables, and some chairs around. All of them colored beige. People were hanging out and even though everyone was looking at him his head wasn’t faced down and he wasn't focused on trying to memorize the pattern of the maroon industrial carpet beneath his feet.

He was looking at the windows. They were big and the length of the room. They reached to the ceiling, but what pulled his eyes to them was the mesh grill that covered them. Another reminder that there wasn’t a way out.

His heart was thumping in his chest really pounding hard and he wanted to get to his room as quickly as possible. He was scared, terrified, and wondering what the hell he had done.

Ted looked up as he entered their room and said, “Hello, you must be the new guy.” It was almost funny to hear that tired cliché. He felt like he should be in an office wearing a suit and shaking hands.

Danny just nodded his head and noticed that the windows were here in this room too. They weren’t as big and had brown curtains hung in front of them, but they were still covered with the grill.

“Freaked out? First time?”

Danny just nodded again. Angry that Ted knew what he was feeling, but also relieved that he wasn’t the only one who had ever felt this way.

Ted walked past him on the way out and said, “The bed by the windows is mine, your’s is against the wall, and that’s your dresser. There was one opposite the foot of each bed in a bland wooden color and made of heavy duty plastic. With a night table next to each bed of the same material.

“Scared. I’m scared.” Those words kept on going around in his head. He was almost glad to be feeling something other than the numbing blackness that filled him. But then he felt the tears starting to rise. The reason he was here.

Writing 2

He never went to the meetings while he was at the hospital. It wasn’t required for him to go. In fact, they would’ve wondered why he wanted to. Everyone in the unit knew they were friends and romantic relationships were discouraged and frowned upon. So he tried to hide his true feelings for her in the friendship that the four of them shared.

They hung out together... smoking, playing cards, talking and playing more cards. But he didn’t smoke. It was just another thing that set him apart. They looked so cool with those cigarettes in their hands and blowing smoke ring after ring.

He wanted to fit in, be cool, manly... and he trusted Ted to show him how. They sat at the table and he learned how to pack the cigarettes by tapping the box so they would burn better. Stacy wasn’t around. There was no way he was going to make a fool of himself in front of her. He knew from watching tv that the first time someone tried to smoke they ended up coughing and looking ridiculous.

That’s what happened to him. His first puff was fine. Then Ted told him to really inhale and bring the smoke down into his lungs. The coughing fit started and so did the laughing. But he didn’t give up. He kept on trying intent on being able to smoke like a natural by the time Stacy got back.

It didn’t work. As soon as she walked through the door, most of the people on the unit including the counselors were vying to tell her how big strong Danny was brought low by some paper and tobacco. While trying to play it off, he noticed a little spark in her eyes and her lips tilted up at the edges ever so slightly. Danny decided that it was worth the attention and humiliation. But that was the end of his smoking.

Writing

I started this months ago and just found it. It's the beginning of a story or something. I usually write poetry but this just flowed out of me.



MEETINGS

He would go to the meetings with her. He wasn't exactly sure why he did it, just that it felt like the right thing to do. But it didn't really feel right. He didn't fit in. He wasn't a drinker and didn't even like beer, something he had never told his buddies instead usually volunteered to be the designated driver.

They met in a hospital. He saw her and wanted to save her, and he always wondered what she saw in him. He wanted to erase the scars on her arms with kisses and show her that life was worth living. He wanted her to live to spend her life with him.

He was so naive.

It wasn't the first time she had been here or even hospitalized. She knew her way around, the schedules, the terms, how it all worked. She seemed to know the staff, the counselors, the doctors, and even the cafeteria workers. She said hi to them all, but rarely smiled back at them.

He followed her around with his eyes. He didn't want to draw any undue attention to himself. The fact was she brought him out of his own misery. When he was thinking of her he wasn't wondering how the world could be so black with only a little gray. He wasn't stuck in his mind and his chest wasn’t aching with all those unshed tears.

Lying on his bed after he unpacked he discovered that he was only allowed to be in his room to sleep. He had to socialize. Just what he didn't want to do. He wished that his hair was just a little longer to cover more of his face. It didn't make sense and he knew it, but he felt that if he couldn't see them they couldn't see him.

Only after they became closer and would sit and talk at the round table playing crazy eights or hearts with other patients, did she lift her head to look at him. He felt her eyes studying him, but he was never quick enough to meet her gaze. He still had no idea why she was in. The scars on her arms were definitely a year or two old, and she hadn't said much but her name when they were all together in group. He felt a kinship with her, even though things had never been bad enough for him to try and disappear from the pain forever.

The longer he stayed in the hospital the more comfortable he felt there. But that’s not where he wanted to be. A little apartment with Stacy was what he was dreaming of. He kept that to himself. It was a dream just like the ones he had while lying in his bed waiting for sleep to close his eyes. In his dream they were happy and together. Her dark eyes would meet his with a smile. And that’s when he usually fell asleep. Thinking of those dark eyes filled with happiness.

Why

...couldn't you have said so before?
...leave me waiting and hanging?
...do I still care?
...won't the feelings go away?
...am I just so angry?

There's so much I want to say. I counted to 10... I counted to 100... I concentrated on my breathing... I counted to 100 again...

What I want to write is "Go away. I'll leave you alone. Good-bye." But there's a part of me that doesn't want that to be the case.

Then there's a part of me that just wants to rail at you... pound your chest with my fists... make you hurt the way I'm hurting.

You know where to find me, but I'm not going to be waiting.

Haveil Havalim #168

It's Hesh's first time... posting Haveil Havalim and he's done an impressive job for a virgin!

Just couldn't resist.

Make Up

(my mind)

Go away
come back, don't leave
I want you to stay

sit beside me
run from my heart
shut the door (to we)

I'm angry
I'm sad
You can't imagine how mad

I just want to fight
(to be) in your arms
through the night

Different Ways

There's always a way to do something. You just have to figure it out if it's important enough to you.

There's a way in and sometimes it's hard to find the way out.

There are many ways to say good-bye, and quite a few to say hello.

I've had a few new hello's recently. One is from a sweetheart of a man whom I spoke to last night for an hour and a half. Yeah, yeah, I know I was only supposed to talk to him for 15 minutes. It's obvious from this, and this that I have a pretty thick skull. BUT I'm working on it.

He's 11 years older than I am, but I didn't feel like he was an "old man". He sounds like fun and recently broke a finger playing basketball. I like that, not just because I've done that myself, but because he likes to have fun and do things.

Another hello came from someone 10 years younger than I am. It is hard for me not to doubt that he is really interested in dating me for marriage. But he said he has no problem with bringing me and DB home to his family. He was very open with me about some other things which made me believe what he was saying. BUT I still know that I am gullible and easily taken in so I'm just going to see what happens.

We had a good chat last night for about two hours. And I didn't feel any disparity between us because of the age difference. He called and left a message today to wish me Good Shabbos. I got a nice note from the older guy about our talk last night that also put a smile on my face.

Of course, these two new guys need names. I'll have to come up with something if I think they might be around for awhile. There also another man, but I don't know if he's still interested.

Don't ask me what I'm doing I'm not quite sure, and I don't want to rebound into any relationship. I still have feelings for Cowboy, but I'm trying my best to push them down.

I don't want to talk about him.

update: another man just contacted me hadn't heard from him in a week... he's 13 years older more later...

Still A Dream

I figured that after almost a year and a half of blogging I can bring out an old post or two...

Dreams

Please Hold...

PMSing

Head Cold

My brain and my fingers aren't working that quickly tonight. I've got the beginnings of a head cold, and I'm so glad that Shabbos is tomorrow so I can crash. I'll probably sleep through most of it.

I can't think of anything to write... OH! A couple of people contacted me on Frumster. Don't know how I'm going to proceed. They're good looking, and intelligent. I just don't know if I have the energy or desire.

I couldn't even think of what to write when I was replying to their messages. And y'all might've figured out by now that I am rarely at a loss for words. (I did say rarely--so don't even say anything, and you know that I'm directing this to you!! Stop laughing too!! It's not funny.)

Follow

My Ghost

My thoughts are filled with him. I see someone smile and think of his eyes twinkling. I hear a horn honking and think of him driving. My phone rings and I hope he is calling.

I live with music and every song I hear connects me to him. I can't get away from him. There is nowhere to go to escape his sweet deep voice and rumbling chuckle.

Even my dreams are filled with him... so real that when I wake I'm reaching for him.

He haunts me with his soothing words and chains me to him by the teasing names he calls me.

I miss him but he is not gone from my world.

Another Loss

The Yankees did it again in their fight for last place.

They were up by four runs two separate times with four homeruns and still managed to lose in the 11th inning.

THREE ERRORS!!! WHAT IS THE DEAL!?!?!

I Did It Again

I need to learn to count to 10. OK, I need to count to 100 and then count to 100 AGAIN before I draw any conclusions or react in any way.

Even with the reminder to myself about it, I completely ignored my own advice.

It Took Me A Minute

...or two or ten or actually an hour to figure it out. I thought you did something and it meant something. How could I have thought that??? Geez Louise!!!

If you were here....

Haveil Havalim #167

...is up at Frume Sarah's. She's got lots of links so stop by.

I Don't Just Talk In My Sleep

Y'all already know I talk in my sleep...

I'm tired from driving back to Oz last night. We got in early but then I felt the need to unpack everything and do some cleaning. That's what drinking coffee will do to me.

Feeling kind of hung over from the caffeine. I'm trying to get some work done on my computer, and I felt myself dozing off. I guess I'm not going to be able to work while sitting on my bed today.

Anyway, the next thing I know I'm nodding my head and opening my mouth to say, "OK, OK, I understand." I didn't get the words out because moving my head woke me up.

I wonder if I do anything else in my sleep. Oh, please! That's not what I'm talking about. I'm referring to sleepwalking. Although, I have heard of people who have sex in their sleep. I don't mean the people like my ex who can put you to sleep while having sex because they're so bad. I'm talking about people who are actually sleeping and stay that way while having sex.

I'm trying to figure that one out, and I've got to say that sex must not be that great if they don't even wake up when...

I Miss It

I miss feeling a man's hands on me. I miss being held. I miss long deep passionate kisses. In case you haven't gotten the point yet... I MISS SEX!!!

I was just talking a friend tonight and I couldn't stop laughing when I mentioned that I just (right then and there) realized that this is the first relationship (meaning the one with Cowboy, if you can call it a relationship) in which I've been shomer negiah!!! HYSTERICAL!!!

I mean, c'mon, it's me! And I haven't even kissed him yet, let alone held hands. Whoa!! You have to admit that it's absolutely unbelievable.

Well, it's been getting to me. I miss being with a man. There have been offers... the 25 year olds from Frumster and JDATE along with the 65 year olds. And yes, there have been a few from those who fit into the age category in between.

Remember though, I have to like the guy before anything can happen, and I'd prefer to be interested in him romantically. BUT get real!!! We all know that I have a strong sex drive. OK, OK, a very strong sex drive.

Soooooo, I'll keep y'all posted. I can't go to the mikvah until Monday night. After that.... ;-)

Fun In Kansas

We went to the lake, and did some fishing and paddle boating. DB was the self-appointed captain, first mate and quarter-master "because I've seen all the pirate movies." When he announced this, Saba was trying his very best not to laugh out loud. I would love to take DB out sailing then he can really be captain.

He's turning out to be a really good fisherman and has the next spot he wants to try all picked out. His casting is so natural now, and he's at the point that he's ready to bait his own hooks. I can't wait until he does then I won't have to cut the nightcrawlers and put the hook through them... not the most pleasant of responsibilities.

We had a barbecue and did some swimming at a cousin's pool.

DB is exhausted, but happy. The only thing that didn't quite work out was that he wanted to take home the yellow perch we caught... not to eat them, but to keep them as pets. He even went all by himself and asked the park ranger, who told him it was fine. OY!!! That made it so much harder for him to put them back in the lake.

We finally convinced him that they would be dead by the time we got them into an aquarium. There were tears from DB, but he said good-bye. Then he promised them that next time he would bring a bucket to carry them home in, and have the aquarium ready and waiting.

Jake and Jack... DB's catch and good friends.

Everything Gets Better In Time

Just needed a little reminder to myself to be patient and not react to things immediately and emotionally. Will someone puh-leeeeeeze hit me over the head with a brick so that maybe this will somehow get through this thick skull of mine!!!!! UGH!!!

Wish I Were Lucky

Lucky





In my heart... Rated R

His Song Part 2

He hides behind words
and write in riddles
hoping to be discovered
by the one he loves

pushing her away
he tries harder
everyday
to win her

the tears he cannot shed
live forever in his head
and his blood keeps on pulsing
through this unforgiving world

smiling, she passes by
he struggles to let go and fly
to join on her journey
the dreams she longs to live

reality pushes them apart
and he struggles for her heart
to capture his fleeing soul

joined as one
they fall into the sun
and their love consumes them

Recognition

There's this man that I've seen around a couple of times. Actually, more than a couple.

The first time I saw him we both kind of did a double take. We most certainly did not know each other, but there was a connection, a recognition of something there. Of course, every time after that when we saw each other there was a silent understanding. I don't remember ever smiling at him, and I smile at everyone. Believe it or not there was never any flirting between the two of us. He never smiled at me either, but we always looked each other in the eye and knew.

He's younger than I am, but he's not a guy. He's a man. There's a way that he holds himself; a confidence, a surety. And I wasn't sure if he is/was married. I'm still not sure.

I saw him about a month ago. He came into the store, and there was that instant knowing. I looked up and saw that he was caught by surprise to find me working there. We didn't say anything to each other. I was busy helping other people. He walked around as if he didn't remember what he had come in to buy, and then he left.

Yesterday, he showed up in the store again, but it was empty. There were no other customers, and I was laughing with another employee. I looked up and there were his eyes looking down into mine. He smiled back and for the first time I spoke to him.

I helped him find what he was looking for and he joined in on the joking around. There was still an unspoken acknowledgement between us, and then he left. I did get to find out that he is intelligent and funny, but still not sure if he's married or not.

Laughing

I just got off the phone with Petey and I'm still giggling. Our conversation went from subject of divorce to phantom sex to the CIA to Bamba, and I actually got him to laugh too.

Life is much easier when you can laugh at things that are so horrible they are unbelievable. Personally I prefer to laugh at just about everything including myself (some of the things I do are pretty ridiculous).

Which reminds me, I got my gas cap stolen today while I was at work. No, I didn't get gas on my way to work and have the serviceman forget to put it on. I was walking to my car after work and saw the gas door open. I checked and my gas cap was gone. The funny thing about it was that my car was completely unlocked and they could have taken anything they wanted.

What is even better is that I left my keys in the ignition. They could have taken the whole car. I couldn't stop laughing as I was driving home. The thought came to me that they realized the gas cap was worth more than the whole car so why bother taking the rest of it. This made me laugh even harder.

It's Time

I'm going to be cutting my hair within the next month. It might be this Friday, right before Shavuos, or right after Shavuos. I've got at least a foot of hair that will go to Locks Of Love. It's probably closer to 14 inches.

My hair hangs down my back past the bottom of my shoulder blades. I usually cover it with a baseball cap. That way I can just wash it in the morning and not have to spend up to an hour blow drying it and fixing it. I stick it in a ponytail that's doubled up to keep it out of my face and off my neck, and I'm out the door.

I've grown a little attached to my hair, but summer's coming and I know how comfortable short hair can be. Plus swimming is so much easier without having to worry about hair in your face... not to mention going to the mikvah. OMG!!! I won't have to spend 10 minutes combing out my hair. HOORAY!!!

Haveil Havalim #166

The Mommy Blogger edition is up and Ima on (and off) the Bima did a great job!!!

Tension Can Be Painful

My shoulder and neck hurt. A friend of mine says that I am carrying a lot of weight on them. I don't know about that.

What I do know is that I am so thankful for those air activated sticky heating pads. They loosen up my neck and take some of the pain away. Without them I would be stuck at home with a plugged in heating pad on my shoulder or standing in a hot shower letting the water pound out the knots.

What I would really love is to have some strong hands massaging these painful spasms away. Until that time, I will take advil, try to stop clenching my jaw (it just adds to the tightness in my neck that travels up to and into my ear), and try to relax.

Any advice would be greatly appreciated. It's hard to sleep when you're tossing and turning trying to find a way to get comfortable.

Do You Remember?

Do you remember what show this phrase is from and who used to say it?

Bee-dee, bee-dee, bee-dee...

For some strange reason Petey said "bee-dee" while we were talking today. We were both immediately reminded of a tv show we watched when we were younger, much younger.

A Passing Afternoon

Passing Afternoon - Iron & Wine

There are times that walk from you
Like some passing afternoon
Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon
And she chose a yard to burn
But the ground remembers her
Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms

There are things that drift away
Like our endless numbered days
Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made
And she's chosen to believe
In the hymns her mother sings
Sunday pulls it's children from their piles of fallen leaves

There are sailing ships that pass
All our bodies in the grass
Springtime calls her children until she lets them go at last
And she's chosen where to be
Though she's lost her wedding ring
Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds

There are things we can't recall
Blind as night that finds us all
Winter tucks her children in, her fragile china dolls
But my hands remember hers
Rolling around the shaded ferns
Naked arms, her secrets still like songs I'd never learned

There are names across the sea
Only now I do believe
Sometimes, with the window closed, she'll sit and think of me
But she'll mend his tattered clothes
And they'll kiss as if they know
A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone

You Know You're Tired When...

you're talking to your friend in Israel and you want to charge your phone so you won't have to worry about it dying on you tomorrow...


BUT just can't remember where you put it!!!


It appears that even though I'm not a blonde anymore some of the ditziness still remains.

Do They Even Have A Pulse?

What is the deal with the Yankees?????

OMG!!!! How am I supposed to explain this to DB?!?!?

Last night was Mets 7-4 over the Yankees and tonight I can't even bear to write it.

The sad sad news can be found here.

Make The World Go Away

Eddy Arnold was a giant. Here's Martina singing and if I could I would to make you smile.

I'm A Country Gal And It Was A Good Day

Sitting here watching the ACM's, that's the American Country Music Awards for you city folk, I'm a happy camper singing along and tapping the computer keyboard in time to the music. There's a big grin on my face. I've had a pretty good day, and I can't ask for anything more because the DB was with me for part of it smiling, shooting some hoops and even tangoing his mom across the gym floor without an ounce of embarrassment.

It's funny how other people pick up on how you're feeling. Well, with me it's kind of obvious. OK, it's almost unavoidable to know how I'm feeling if you're near me or even talking to me on the phone. It's also neat to see how people are attracted to you when you're happy.

I went to pick up dinner tonight and a guy who works there was ready to pay for it for me, not to mention a single homey from Kansas who was flirting with me while I was at work and trying to find out if I was divorced or dating anyone. Then there was the customer who told me I had a great smile and wanted to know what hours I was in the store.

And I got a bonus today, a bracha from Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski for DB and he added on one for me too.

Earlier in the day, Bubbi was complaining of the noise her car was making. When I let her know it was just her muffler she told Zaidy that it was a little bit loose he asked, "How do you know?"

"CR told me."

"OK, we'll get it fixed," was what he replied, and it made Bubbi laugh because he didn't even question her once she told him that I was the one who diagnosed the problem.

It made me laugh too, when she told me. In case you haven't figured it out, Zaidy/Abba questions everything, and anything, and anyone's opinions. But not my judgement on car problems... too funny!

The bris was lots of fun and we had a huge family picture taken which didn't even include even 1/4 of the family, but still amounted to a whole bunch of people who love each other smiling next to one another.

OH! And when I got home from work Bubbi/Mom handed me a bag with some jewelry I had thought was lost forever; a signet ring, I got on my 16th birthday, my dad's watch that he got when graduating high school, he gave it to me when I did the same, plus some other pieces that had sentimental value. I have a ring on each hand right now, and it makes me feel so girly and fancy even with my fingernails that are bitten down to nothing.

All in all it was a good day.

Of course, the music and familiar accents just add even more to it. I hope you all had a good day too.

btw-how could I forget all the hugs and kisses from little ones and their parents.

The Ones You Love

OK, so I have the title, but what about the rest.

This is just going to be a rambling post. It feels like I haven't posted in a couple of days. I guess I'm getting used to writing. It's become something that I miss like a loved one far away. Perhaps you don't think of them every second, but when your world gets quiet they fill your thoughts.

I had some strange dreams over Shabbos. And I mean STRANGE! My dreams are usually very vivid and that includes this one. I can even remember the street signs and the names of the people I met. It started with someone moving in next door to my mom's house. A couple around my age, with no kids, and a spotted mutt.

They were celebrating their anniversary with a good friend (guy), and their parents. Somehow I got pulled into it and we were watching old movies. The friend and I were hitting it off because I was impressed with the fact he knew the names of the actors and had seen other movies starring them. Actually, the real reason why I was impressed was that the movies were romantic ones, and he just didn't strike me as the type of guy who would watch them let alone remember them.

I felt pulled towards him and shy and embarrassed at the same time which, of course, caused me to trip over my own feet while helping carry the dessert plates to the kitchen. I could feel my face turn warm, and can feel it right now even though it was only a dream.

You can tell that dream was definitely realistic. Sooo something that I would do. Except in real life the plates would have crashed to the floor breaking into pieces.

When I left the house I couldn't remember his name, and I remember getting all flustered again and hoping he didn't notice. Of course, that wasn't the case. He winked like he knew what I was feeling which ended up with me almost falling down the stairs outside.

My dream somehow shifted to ex-boyfriends. (Yes, I have a lot of them) Moshe was the one who had the starring role. In the dream he wanted to marry me. I thought it was kind of funny in my dream because we cared about each other very much in real life, but I don't think he ever really felt that way about me. Just to let you know, I sometimes recognize the fact that I'm dreaming or that my dreams incorporate so much of real life that during them I'm trying to figure out when things actually took place, or feelings changed.

Back to Moshe... He looked like Moshe, blonde hair, blue eyes, Cubs baseball cap, white T-shirt, blue jeans and several inches taller than I was. He spotted me from his apartment where he was having a party and his buddies started yelling at me to stop. They were shouting that Moshe had something important to ask me. I remember being very surprised because it was during a Cub's game, and nothing came between Mosh and his Cubs, but there he was running across the lawn to me. I started running away once I realized what it was he was going to ask me.

I've always loved Moshe. No! Not like that. Even though, we did fool around a bit. I met Moshe my first year in seminary and we both went back second year. You might think that I was rebellious and didn't respect my teachers and rebbeim, but that wasn't the case, even though he did sleep over in our apartment one night. That was a fun night. And no, I wasn't thrown out, even though I walked into sem the next day sporting a hickey in plain sight.

OK, back to the crazy dream. Before Mosh had a chance to ask me the dream slipped into a different scene. It was Pesach and my family was having a seder with another ex-boyfriend's family. They've never really met, and I remember being surprised that we were all together. The ex wasn't there though. At some point his parents made a disparaging comment about me, and my mother took umbrage. (No, I don't use the word umbrage in my regular speech, but it fits here and it's fun to do.) A big fight ensued and I slipped out the door not wanting to get involved.

That's when Mark, Izzy, and some other exes showed up, and I got lost trying to get to some other friends. I was wearing pink yummy fleece pajamas, my winter coat, my big clodhopper snow boots and my usual baseball cap, Yankees, of course.

The rest of this dream will have to wait...

And I think that I'll also write the post that should go with the above title.

Realize

Impress me

My Friend, Petey

I’m so silly, and I’m so lucky. I’m lucky that I have a good friend. Let’s call him Petey. He makes me laugh and always has, even though his jokes are so, so, so very horrible. He listens. And not only that he has the answers to my questions. That is a major feat!!!

Petey explains and reminds me of things that I should be able to know and remember by myself. My emotions sometimes get in the way. The funny thing is that sometimes we are both talking about someone or something completely different than what the other one thinks and yet his advice still seems to apply. It's obvious that we're both strange. Yes, Petey, you're strange, but you knew that already.

He helps me keep my head on straight, and not get into too much trouble. I get lectures sometimes (alright, about once a week) on different matters, and it doesn’t bother me in the least. It means he cares, and I appreciate it.

He gets me to laugh while I’m in the middle of crying. OK, OK, it’s not that difficult to do. And yes, I already know I’m weird. Just about everyone who's ever read my blog can attest to that.

I guess the real reason for this post is so that I can say, "Thank you, Petey. And I'll bet you a nickel you never figure out why I called you that."

btw- Your offer to call blew me away.

A New Mother's Day

One of my many cousins actually lives in Oz, and on Mother's Day she became a mom for the first time. Both baby boy and mommy are doing fine.

MAZEL TOV!!!! MAZEL TOV!!!!

He Called

He called. Cowboy that is.

But don't ask me what's going on. I don't think either of us know.

It was enough for now just to hear the voice I love so much.

I Miss You

I miss you. Even if I could write I miss you at the beginning of every sentence I send to you, it cannot describe the loss I feel at not being able to hear your voice. I can't see the words I'm typing because my tears blur the screen.

I haven't slept. I've tried, but I only start crying and feel my chest ache to the point that I hold my hands against it to keep it from ripping apart. The tears fall slowly one by one down my face or in a torrent of sobs that shake my body and make me gasp for air.

I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you. It hurts. It hurts that I don't know how you are. I'm davening. I'm asking Hashem to take care of you and make you happy... to let you smile and laugh.

Can't Sleep

...and I miss him.

Remember

Friends Don't Let Friends Write Sleepy (I mean "while sleepy" Just another reason why.)

When it's late at night I get more emotional not to mention the fact that this increases with the amount of sleep that I have gone without. It's not like I'm drunk just a helluva lot more emotional. In case y'all didn't notice, I'm an emotional person to begin with.

I got back to Oz yesterday evening, but I couldn't sleep because of the caffeine that I had earlier in the day. The night before I was up late doing laundry otherwise I never would've had the caffeine to begin with. So even though I was wired, I was also exhausted. It's kind of difficult to think straight like that, and of course, I felt the need to write out my emotions.

Actually, what I think I need to do is wait a day before I post, talk to someone or get emotional when I'm tired. Now I understand the sayings; Let me sleep on it, and Things will look different in the morning.

btw-last week I didn't get too much sleep... not an excuse, just an explanation

Needless to say, I shouldn't even be posting this.

Am I... When I...

Swallowing Tears

How do you swallow the tears to numbness
Forgetting what was there
The joy lifting you above is now shoved down
with the pain
Silent drops escape and my chest is sore
from being ripped in two.
In the sun it is easier to pretend life is fine
but at night it will not be contained
and flows into a river of hurt down the worn tread of thrown away dreams
memories of what could have been follow my footsteps dodging my happiness
trying to forget what never existed
my tired eyes cannot see the future
clouded by visions of unknown ecstasy
the knot gets stuck in my throat and will not go down easily
pulling us with it.

The Final Word

Said in anger there is finality

with sadness there is longing

in joy for the certainty of again

and too quickly, followed by regret

DB's List

At brunch today we went around the room and everyone mentioned what they loved the best about their mom. DB was second and he brought tears to my eyes. "I love my mom 'cause she helps me with homework." That's true. We sit together sometimes for hours working.

"I also love my mom because she got me Cutie." That's his cat. Since DB doesn't have any brothers or sisters to commiserate with when mom has been "unfair", I made sure he had a pet to tell all his troubles too. She's one of his best friends in the world.

The last thing DB said was what surprised me and touched me, "I love my mom because she finds the bright side to things." Wow! I felt so proud of my son for recognizing this trait and appreciating it. The other adults gave me looks over his head as if to say you have a very special boy. He hasn't even made it into double digits, but his confidence and ability to express himself is something I would expect of a much older child.

We have a lot of craziness in our lives, and I try to keep things easy and simple for DB. Sometimes it's just not possible, and that's when I try to find something good in what's going on. In some instances, there's just no way to do this, and it would also be denying the awfulness of what's taking place. But whenever I can I try to find something that DB and I can smile and laugh over.

The weird thing about this is that I admire this trait in DB, and I've told him so. I guess I didn't realize that I was the one he was learning it from.

Dirty Clothes

Does laundry ever end???? I'm getting kind of tired.

Haveil Havalim #165

...Happy 60th Birthday Israel Edition is up at the shack.

And Happy Mother's Day!!!!!

Just Listen

When I talk to my friends about things that are going on in my life I don't expect answers or solutions. In fact, I don't usually appreciate them. I just need to talk. I usually know exactly what's going on and what needs to be done. This is my life after all. I just need to vent or hear my thoughts out loud.

I try my best to do this for my friends too. It used to be much more difficult. I hurt when the people I care about hurt, and I used to want to solve everything. I find that listening is appreciated more, and if they really need advice my friends will ask for it.

Even if I share similar characteristics to you, what you might find a workable solution may not necessarily apply to me. I am my own person and make my own choices so it bothers me if someone feels that they are responsible for giving me "bad advice" and what occurs afterwards. In no uncertain terms, is that true. For one thing, if you give me advice it doesn't necessarily mean that I'm taking it. For another, by apologizing for the advice you gave, it is as if you are assuming direct responsibility for my actions.

I love my friends, but I resent when they do that. If I choose to do something, it may not be because of your advice even if you did mentioned it.

I know I'm a little bit touchy about this. It might come from the fact that I lived under someone's control for quite some time and had to work very hard to break free of it.

Thanks for listening.

Never Argue With A Woman

One morning the husband returns the boat to the cottage after several hours of fishing and decides to take a nap. Although not familiar with the lake, the wife decides to take the boat out. She motors out a short distance, anchors, puts her feet up, and begins to read her book. The peace and solitude are magnificent.

Along comes a Fish and Game Warden in his boat. He pulls up alongside the woman and says, "Good morning, Ma'am. What are you doing?"

"Reading a book," she replies (thinking, "isn't that obvious?")

"You're in a Restricted Fishing Area," he informs her.

"I'm sorry, officer, but I'm not fishing. I'm reading."

"Yes, but I see you have all the equipment. For all I know, you could start at any moment. I'll have to take you in and write you up."

"If you do that, I'll have to charge you with sexual assault," says the woman.

"But I haven't even touched you," says the Game Warden.

"That's true, but you have all the equipment. For all I know, you could start at any moment."

"Have a nice day, Ma'am," and he left.

MORAL: Never argue with a woman who reads. It's likely she can also think.


hat tip: Doll

Give Me More

I don't like one word answers. I like reasons, and explanations.

I like to know why something took place or how come you feel a certain way.

I want to understand before I can accept. And I hate the answer that there is no rationale or logic for things to be the way they are.

If you feel a certain way, I want to know how you came to this point.

I don't know if I want to know all of this because I'm curious or because I feel that there is always a causality.

All I do know is that it's easier to explain to me the answer why, as opposed to telling me to do something because you said so. It usually also takes less time.

btw-I've noticed that same thing applies to DB

Haveil Havalim #164

No Names Edition is up. I'm running a little late this week.

No New Name

I like names, nicknames, middle names, Hebrew names. I've written about names before, and I'm really coming to see that what I've written is true with regard to people making up names for me. I've just started a new job, and already have several new nicknames. Obviously, I get along well with the people I work with and they feel the same.

It's funny because one of them said, "I was thinking of a name for you, and I've bet you've never been called ________." I had to tell him he was wrong and that in high school and then last year people called me that.

"OK, so how 'bout this? _______." Once again, I let him know that although people haven't been calling me by it lately, someone has already used that one.

I haven't heard him use my name since then so I imagine he's still trying to come up with something else. I'll keep you posted.

Summer Nights

It's warm out tonight. The sky isn't that dark yet. It's all blue, a light sky color, to royal, to a deep midnight blue. It's part of my favorite time of night. I love the color blue. The stars are out and I recognize Orion in the familiar place it takes in the summer sky at this time of year.

I used to have a hammock, and in the warm weather instead of sitting on the glider in DB's room and reading his bedtime stories, he would lie cuddled next to me on it under the stars with the three books chosen for that night. When it was really warm out we would go out with his hair still wet from his bath and it would keep us both cool. Once or twice he fell asleep while we did this, and I just stayed there for an hour or two looking up at the stars feeling content that my darlin' boy was peaceful and next to me.

I hadn't thought about this for awhile. DB is bigger now. He doesn't fit that well on my lap when I'm on the glider so we read in his bed. The stories are also different; The Count of Monte Cristo, The Last Of The Mohicans, but Dr. Seuss hasn't left the group quite yet, although Green Eggs And Ham, and Hop On Pop have.

I know that if DB weren't dyslexic I wouldn't be reading him any bedtime stories at all. That's about the only good thing that I can see in him being dyslexic. There are times now when he wants to "read" something on his own, and the occasions that I sing to him our repertoire of lullabies are also decreasing.

He's growing up... beautifully. I remember the day I walked into his room in the morning and he was standing up for the first time holding onto the crib rails with a big grin of accomplishment on his face. It took me all of a minute to grab my camera and record it for posterity, but I didn't really need to. Closing my eyes, I can still see that sweet face smiling at me.

His manners are also improving. I wrote improving, after all he is a boy and a child, but yesterday I didn't need to remind him to hold open the door for Bubbi and to say thank you. We stopped in a gallery and DB stood talking to the owner about Chagall, texture and color and how he paints. He is so grown up for a little munch, but the next moment he was discussing who is a stronger alien in the cartoon Ben 10 (tv show he watches with his dad), and acting out what the character does.

He's a special boy, and I'm so lucky to be his mom. I hope all you other mom's (including mr. moms) enjoy your children and have a Happy Mother's Day.

His Song

You touch my heart with words that are not yours
Reaching out for love
Breaking down the doors
Our world of hidden pain
Cannot be forgotten
I yearn for your soul
And stand in the rain

The sky falls down upon me
And I watch while you appear
In a cloud above me
And I’m still standing here

Reaching through the miles traveled in our lives
People we’ve become
As we tell ourselves the lies
To keep us living
Moving forward every day
While looking for that someone
Who can show our hearts the way

The sky falls down upon me
And I watch while you appear
In a cloud above me
And I’m still standing here

Wait for me I’m coming to share your inner world
Reaching for your hand
Knowing we can share the gold

The sky falls down upon me
And I watch while you appear
In a cloud above me
And I’m still standing here

In the joy of our souls meeting the dreams can fade away
We can start to live our life
And move on to the new day
The sky opens up above us
And we watch the sun appear
Together we are smiling
As we throw away the fear

Love Songs

Gavin DeGraw

The end to Cinema Paradiso (partial nudity, very briefly)

Josh Groban singing the song to Cinema Paradiso

Almost Lover to scenes from Becoming Jane.

Living A Story

Her writing fills her life
As living never does
Dreams and poems become real
Closing her eyes
Trying to hide behind written pictures of joy and passion
Tears flow with the words and pour from her fingers

And I know the sorrow
Wishing for the fulfillment in her stories
Hoping for a life of her dreams

To go back in time and start again wouldn't help
To go forward would only make the past less familiar
I don't want to let go of the hurt that releases him
To know that not even cries remain
When they are gone so is his existence in my world
Just another character imagined in my life of books
Rereading friends and living the lives of others
To disappear from my own
Sometimes the hurt and pain continue through the day,a dull ache
At others, a familiar song stabs my memory
And rips his loving words from my heart with an anguished cry

To live for others is only existing
I hide behind smiles
Believing that none can see the dull pain of alone

She doesn't search through crowds for his face
To recognize his walk in a crowd
Straining to see... hoping he is returning to her
But knowing that will never be
Even with their meeting.

How do you live with sorrow?
Is it forgotten in a drawer with letters folded and worn from longing?
The memories of caring words in deep voices fill my mind
And the suffering leaks down my face
Cooling the passion that is still there.

Don't leave me
Don't let me leave you
Don't say goodbye
Don't wish me well
Just go and give me forgetting your laugh
So that I can continue on my walk for others
Across an empty world

Becoming Jane

Happy endings can be written
but not lived with the passion
and yearning for their life together

Alone in the future with words for company
each story ending with love
while her own must continue without
not willing to hurt him through his family

Doing what is right and necessary
Instead of what is wanted
For a love never to be lived
but imagined and dreamt
Created with characters

each one, him
each hero, him

because her thoughts are full of him
and the only way to rid herself of them
is to give them to others
as she has given him to others

Everyday, every night
She remembers his behaviors and tones
With a smile on her face.
Hoping that he is happy
That what she has lost
He has gained without her

She was never erased
Always a reminder
In a name of a beloved child

It does not still the beating of her heart
or dry the tears on her soul

He has not forgotten


If only he had,
then perhaps one day she will.

She Wouldn't Listen Anyway

I just found out that DB's dad, my ex, got engaged the last days of Pesach. While I am very happy for this occurrence I do feel bad for her. If I felt it would do any good, I would tell her the reasons why I wanted a divorce and that she should protect herself and her children and run very fast and far away.

I like her. She's sweet and treats DB nicely which is extremely important. It sounds like she comes from a nice family because her parents also treat DB well. I just feel so bad for her children and worry about their safety like I worry about DB's when he's with his dad.

It would be nice to think that the ex has changed, but because of his recent behavior I know that isn't so.

Haveil Havalim

#163 by Dan is up at tzipiyah

Very Talented

Y'all know that I'm talented at hurting myself in weird ways. What I haven't told you is that I'm very talented at making a mess too. My mother used to and still does call me a tornado. When I was growing up she was constantly telling me, "Why can't you be neat like your brother?" Ugh! If anything, that pushed me in the opposite direction of what she wanted. Max is my younger brother and just hearing that I should be like him was a blow to my ego. Plus the fact that he would rub it in my face later on.

Another reason I balked at cleaning my room was because my mom would tell me to do it. When someone tells me to do something that is a sure indication that I won't. I know that it's not the most mature behavior and I'm working on it. I just respond better to being asked. Of course she probably did ask me repeatedly, and when that didn't work she had to tell me to do it.

I would turn around and glare at her. "It's my room. Why can't I keep it the way I like?!!!!" I would stomp my feet as hard as possible up the steps to let her know my displeasure and then slam my door. I'd turn up my music loud enough to annoy her, but not quite loud enough to have her come to my room and yell at me to turn it down. I made sure that she was able to hear the words and I played the hell out of my Pink Floyd, The Wall tape.

I am laughing as I hear her voice in my head telling me not to speak to her that way. I say the same thing to DB when he uses those words to tell me he prefers to have everything he owns on the floor. And I realize that those many times I stormed up those stairs might have contributed to the creaks in them.

My mom finds it very funny that DB can destroy a neat room in the same amount or possibly even less time than I could/can. I know that she's thinking payback. But I get the last laugh when DB and I go to Kansas for Shabbos. We leave a wake in our trail as soon as we walk in the door... at least, now I clean up without her telling me too.

Whatever I Feel Like

Some of you have asked what's been going on with me and Cowboy. I can't really tell you because I don't really know, and I bet you he's reading this thinking the same thing.


I've just decided to do whatever I feel like doing (and saying). If it's a problem, I'm sure I'll hear about it. He's rarely at a loss for words, although, I'm almost certain it does happen on occasion. ;-)

Writing

Do you get scared before posting an intimate story, poem, or intense and questioning feelings? Do you feel compelled to share them anyway... to open your soul so that the world can embrace it or trample it at will?

I find it easier to expose myself to many people at once than to just one person privately. Maybe it's because there's a lower chance of rejection, ridicule, anger, disgust or even shame. Because there must be someone out there who has experienced even the tiniest bit of what I write.

I'm thinking about why I write. Yes, it's expression and I use it as a release, to clarify and then try to look more objectively at my thoughts and feelings. But I think I write for understanding, interaction, feedback and accomplishment.

My writing voice is much different from my speaking voice. The tones and word rhythms I hear in my head are more formal. Isn't that funny? You would think they would be more casual. But maybe its because I view my thoughts and emotions with such intensity that is deserving of a more serious and formal tone/voice to express them. I love to write and forgot how much I loved it... how it flows from my head to my fingers.

There was a time when I refused to write on my computer. I was used to a more visceral experience... of my pen pressing down hard on paper leaving marks of the letters on the pages underneath. Crossing sentences and words out because I disliked the way they fit was always down with numerous strokes which then used to annoy me when I felt that I needed that phrase or word in another part of what I was writing. I would have to stare at the paper to find the shapes of the letters hidden under the marks.

Then I started to use computers and saw that the words could flow more freely, quicker than with my right hand and the callus on my middle finger, that bump from gripping the pencil and carving my words. It has started to get smaller and not as noticeable. Believe it or not my brain still works faster than my fingers and when I have a thought of another line to follow if I don't write it down it's possible to lose it as I get involved in the thoughts I am writing at that moment.

It can get distracting sometimes. I prefer to finish the thought I'm in the middle of rather than to write down a reminder word or phrase afraid of losing the flow. And now I have done just that and am racking my brain trying to concentrate on these words hoping that the idea will decide to come out of hiding, as if it's punishing me for ignoring it.

I even reread all the above to see if it would kick start it, but it seems that it's gone. But instead I go back to how I used to shuffle the papers around. And I've just remembered that I wanted to write about how I would agonize over first sentences, how I would write and re-write them. Or even start with the second sentence knowing that something a certain rhythm, cadence of words naturally belonged in front of it. I used to place the papers with different sentences and switch them around till I felt they fit together.

Do you write with a rhythm in your head knowing that a certain word comes next with two syllables and the emphasis on the first one? I do. If I can't remember the word I want I don't usually fill it in with a synonym instead I leave it blank and come back to it later. Re-reading and drumming out the beats of the word in my head until it comes to me or until I use a thesaurus. I do this when I write prose as well as poetry.

I just read an essay on poetry and on the rhythm of syllables. I need to read it again so that I understand it better and can actually use it and the terms describing it that were written there. When I read different authors the words on paper set a rhythm in my head. I like the way it feels, different than my own thoughts.

I guess people would call it a style of writing but when I hear that word it reminds me of the characters and descriptions a writer uses not their____. I also find that writing late at night or very early morning the words flow easier. Is it less barriers because my mind is tired after a long day and thoughts and feelings come out??? Don't know. I'm getting a little too tired to write now it's about four in the morning, and I've been listening to the slight click of my fingers on the keyboard.

What a difference from the sounds of typewriters or even older keyboards. Maybe it's easier for me to write with a computer now because the sound is less distracting to the rhythms in my head. But I remembered one more point about how I also write using an informal voice. That's when I hear my talking voice in my head. It's when I feel as if I'm having a conversation, maybe a more relaxed or joking conversation with the reader. And that made me think that maybe my formal voice I also use my formal voice my writing voice when I speak. Hmmmm.

Too tired to continue and the thoughts are not fighting for attention in my head anymore. My eyes are closing so I'll end this post. I'll read it later to edit it for spelling etc., but this one just wouldn't leave me alone until it was done. Good night or should I say good morning the birds have been singing for over a half hour now. That makes sense considering that its now 6:30. I thought I started writing a little earlier. Guess not. G'morning to you guys I'm off to get some much needed eye rest.


After reading this over again before I posted, I remembered another thought that I lost while I was writing. It's that I don't listen to music when I write. I like quiet. That way I can hear the rhythms more clearly... so maybe that's another reason why I like to write late at night or early in the morning the world and my life is less noisy.