Can a girl get a haircut?

OMG I am so over this whole small town thing . . . sometimes . . . okay not really. . . but today I NEEDED a haircut. Okay, drama aside, I'd like a haircut. I am going to meet Saint's parents for the first time and I would like to look a bit more refined. (lol, I know, right?)

I waited til the last minute, of course. Sigh

I asked a local friend for her hairstylist and she hasn't been able to get an answer from her all week. So I finally give in and go driving around on a Saturday evening and guess what? The salons all close at 5pm on Saturday AND are not open Sunday or Monday. CRAP! I am meeting them Wednesday and I work all day Tuesday. I am so SOL.

Oh the bright side, I do have the most fabulously nice outfits to wear that will compliment my beau as he usually dresses nicer than me. I am a huge fan of jeans and a tee or my favorite sweatshirt. So I thought I'd show a little style. I even bought a cute little hat in case it rains or is real windy. I also got a little pedicure so my toes are up to par, though Saint swears they will not be looking at my toes. (lol)

Wish me luck!

I'm so lonely, oh so lonely

I never realized just how much I used my family to fill the voids in my life. Moving away has been such an eye opening experience to all the ways I fill my life because when I am alone and have no one to turn to, the voids are so bright I can't focus.

Yesterday, I was expecting Saint, but he had a change of plans. I didn't realize how much I was looking forward to his visit til he told me he might not come. I was devastated. I thought at first it was just because I miss him so much, but in reality I am lonely.

I have had the past two days off - in a row. In retail, this is hard to come by and a very wonderful thing. My weeks are so much shorter. My days at work are so much more pleasant to get through when I know I have a weekend to look forward to - even if it is in the middle of the week. Doesn't matter. Two days off is spectacular.

The first day I usually spend puttering around the house, being quiet, catching up on Hulu shows, renting movies that I didn't get out to see, reading my current book, cuddling with the kitties and hopefully doing miscellaneous chores that went undone during the past week. I usually end the day with a fabulous yoga class. An entire hour at the new gym breathing, stretching and pushing my muscles surrounded by strangers that are friendly and lift my spirits.

The second day my mind is dying to get out. I usually run any errands on this day. I make sure to find time to visit my favorite coffee shop to splurge on a huge mug of coffee mixed with hot cocoa (their specialty) and read my book for hours. It allows me to be surrounded by people and not have to talk to anyone (as I talk to people all day long at work). This is the day I like to meet up with friends and have dinner or meet for lunch. It gives me a reprieve from myself and allows me to talk to people who I don't have to, but want to talk to.

The hard part is being in a city where I don't know anyone, well, I don't know anyone. My friends are those I work with and realistically I shouldn't be mixing with them outside of work because I am a manager. Thankfully I have a really great co-manager that we do things with. Yes, she drives me nuts sometimes, but seriously all people are annoying at times (even me). She has been sick this week - Strep throat. Ew, so I don't have that outlet of humor, girl talk and random passing of useless information that I so enjoy with her.

I don't mind being by myself. I enjoy going out and having dinner at a nice place (or a shack) and reading my book or just listening to all the sounds around me. I like going to the movies with only myself as company. I like my company. It's not that I can't be alone. It's the loneliness.

I called my parent's at least three this week to hear their voice. I let them talk for as long as they want when usually I am short and wanting to only get the basics out and then get off the phone. (I AM SO NOT A PHONE PERSON) I call my niece and listen to her breath because she is 14 years old and too busy for me on facebook and texting. I call Saint and listen to him yawn - because he is always tired from working too hard.

I know my bf feels guilty for not coming up because he keeps texting me I love you, but the fact is, I get it. It is so hard to work really hard all week and then spend your free time driving to and from another city and not at home. It makes the free time so much shorter.

I went out and bought a fresh loaf of bread from the local bakery here, which I have been dying to visit and was waiting for Saint to go, but decided I would go by myself. I walked in and it smelled heavenly. I spent some time reading their detailed board of what was available. I talked to the local baker, though not a talking fellow, but nice. I bought a loaf of cinnamon raisin bread thinking it would be a nice addition for a snack or breakfast. As I was leaving I realized I had bought a WHOLE loaf of bread that probably wouldn't survive the week. I was sure I wouldn't be able to eat it all myself. And as I climbed into my car I felt my shoulders drop and my breath sag because I wouldn't have anyone to share it with.

Sigh.

Yet, my life is good. I am loved.

I may be lonely, but I am not alone. And I know the difference.

It's just there are days I feel so isolated. I feel like not having friends to lean on, to talk to, to go to coffee with, to spend time with - is the hardest part of this. I can't rely solely on Saint for my companionship either. Even if he lived here, I would want to get out and meet people, but after not being in school for so long, I find this difficult.

Do you?

Why I love thee, let me count the ways

In honor of Valentine's Day I have a post dedicated to why I love Saint -

It is so easy to be with you. We don't really do anything, but we do it well, together.

You are always on my side (even when there isn't a side to take) and it makes coming home from a tough day, that much easier.

You have my gift long before we decide not to exchange gifts.

Even after the eighteenth text - in one day - of I love you, you still return the text with you love me.

The relationship you have with my cat, Izabel, is strained at the very least, but knowing that she may not be happy in our new city, you agree to take her if necessary. You also choose to switch sides of the bed with me rather than sweep Izabel off your side of the bed.

You are willing to push aside the mushrooms and other miscellaneous veggies that I like to eat and cook with which you are not a fan of.

For Band Day, you lent me your Guns N Roses tee.

You are willing to be on "alien watch" even though we both know it is simply because the scientist in you must know what that damn noise is that keeps me awake at night.

I am reading a book about religion and send you a text that I would like to go visit and stay in an Amish Bed n Breakfast, even though initially you are against it, you resign because you know it will make me happy (and it will give you something else to make fun of).

With bad knees and a work time of 3am, you are still willing and able to don a pair of ice skates and hobble around the arena listening to Justin Bieber on Teen night with a bunch of swooning middle age school girls and my niece.

And these are just a few of the reasons why I am so lucky to have Saint in my life.

Happy Valentine's Day peeps!!

Hoping to see a Taser

I was on my way to my parent's house the other day and when I came to the their street that I turn right down, there were tons of cones, police squad cars and it was roped off in most areas.

A large group of people were apparently doing some sort of a marathon, so going down a good ten minute drive the entire right side of the street was roped off making it a bit difficult to turn right since I had to wait til the running crowd cleared. Coincidentally, the people who were trying to get out of that area had to wait til the runners got by to come out of the street.

Here I am waiting patiently. I am watching the police officer who was directing traffic and the runners. I am checking out the runners in my rear view mirror and side mirror. After about six minutes, I see this woman stalk out of her car, very dramatically slam her car door shut and then proceed to stomp her way over the police officer. She was about five cars back in the line.

I see her get about five feet from the officer when he sees her. He points her back to her car and she is very theatrically waiving her arms and yelling at him. He just keeps shaking his head and pointing in the direction of her car.

I find this very entertaining and proceed to add voices to the conversation I am seeing, but mostly I am thinking (and slightly hoping) that this woman will be tasered because REALLY we are all waiting. What is this woman really going to do or say that will change this fact???

Finally after a few moments of dramatic exchange she huffs back to her car and squeals out, turning around and going back the opposite way. About this time there is enough of a gap that I pull through. I watch as this woman races over the speed bumps and out of the neighborhood. She had to be going at least twice the speed limit because her van was jumping over the speed humps.

I find it really sad that this woman felt the need to make a scene like this entire world is about her. I get that she may be running late, that she has to pick up her kid from school or make a doctor's appointment (I don't really know), but so do the rest of us. Did she once ever consider how we felt or the runners (who I am guessing) spent months preparing for this event? I doubt it.

I am also really disappointed because I would have had a front row seat to a woman being tasered. Damn. For once someone might have been held accountable for their actions/words.

Reverb 10 - Friendship

Reverb10: Friendship: How has a friend changed you or your perspective on the world this year? Was this change gradual, or a sudden burst?

I have been thinking about this reverb10 all day. To be completely honest, I really didn't know what to write because I haven't really had all that many friends, let alone friends that I do things with all the time. The few friends I do have, we keep in touch and we get together, but we all are busy and don't make as much time for each other as we could. No one to blame, just a fact. Maybe it's because I moved around alot when I was growing up. Maybe I hold people at a distance. Maybe after working in retail for thirteen years, I don't want to talk to people after hours. Or maybe it is just the way life works, people move on, people get busy. When we need each other, I believe we are there for each other. No worries there, but as far as really good close friends who change my life?

Hmmm ... not sure.

Sometime during the day, while stirring my heart out over a pot full of what hopes to be FUDGE, it dawned on me. My closest friend, the one I hold dearest to my heart and do everything with is MY MOTHER. Odd, right? Do other people have this type of relationship with their mothers? I don't know. Quite frankly I know I am lucky to even be able to profess this.

In the past, we haven't been so close. I can be very much like her - demanding, selfish, guilt-pusher. But we are human and working together for eight years forced us to either hate or love each other. Luckily we chose to love each other, but not by any easy means. We both opened up. We both chose to change and mold ourselves into better, more adaptable people.

Here I am, in another city, hours away from my best friend, stirring away like a fiend trying not to burn the damn fudge and I realized - fudge requires a wingman. My wingman has always been my mother. Or rather I am usually her wingman. It made me sad and yet, I am glad that I made the fudge because I felt closer to her. I spent the entire half hour (each flavor, one chocolate and another peanut butter) thinking of her and how much I love her. How many wonderful memories we have together.


Last week I jumped in the car on my day off and drove back into the city to see her (and Saint). After two hours together, she stopped, looked and me and exclaimed, "I don't think I've stopped talking this entire time. I think, I've missed you! I've missed this - being together." Hey mom, I do too!! It's so true. When my father can't find my mother, he calls my phone because usually we are together. We shop together, we grab lunch, we go to the bookstore, we run errands, we go to movies - geez you name it and we have probably done it.

My relationship with my mother made me realize that I can be the daughter, friend and (hopefully one day) a mother WITH her, beside her and we can coexist while still loving each other. Yes, we can both be very unreasonable people, but we have developed this way of being together where it doesn't matter. We both get each other.


No matter how many people come and go in my life. No matter how many friends I find and grow with. No matter where I live; who I live with. My mother and I will ALWAYS be the best of friends and I honestly couldn't ask for a better friend.

Too habitual to cohabitate?

Saint's lease on his apartment is ending in a month. He has already given notice that he is moving out. He hates the place. And when you compare it to my apartment complex (I don't want to brag) but not much compares.

In his words, he is about 80% sure he is moving in with me.

(crossing my fingers)

I would really like him to move in with me. It is no secret I am in love with this man. That I want and see a future with him that I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams. The time we spend together is good and healthy. We challenge each other, but in a way that makes us both better people. We look out for each other and though we occasionally argue or disagree, neither one of us feels the need to take it out on the other or hurt willingly. I love this aspect of our relationship. It is not something I have experienced before. This is the biggest blessing.

He is, I think, concerned for his roommate, Montana. He has had a bit of a rough year. I know he wants to be there for him. They have been friends for a long time. I understand this.

I think, a small part of him is also thinking about his freedom. The chance to live by himself. Which I have had and he hasn't.

On that note though, I have been contemplating all the things that will change if and when he moves in with me. The biggest in positives is I will be able to come home to him every night. To sleep next to him, feel his warmth, listen to his breathing (and yes, snoring too) and to know he will be there - is amazing. I feel like I never get to see him and when we leave I feel, I never got enough time with him. It is fleeting as we both have opposite schedules most of the time. Among the obvious, someone to help with bills and chores - he laughs because I already have a few things planned out. I hate dishes, he hates laundry - WOOT - done! And to have someone who is not only reliable, but responsible is frickin' awesome! A man who actually does what he says he does, unbelievable.

There are many more pluses, but the negatives make me pause. Only to realize I am being fickle and then they make me laugh. Things like having to share the tv (when I actually curl up on the couch to watch romantic movies, over and over again). What about when I really have to fart? What about when I don't feel like showering? What about when I wear the same sweats for days on end? What about when I am sick and have that hacking cough where plem comes out? How will he feel when I lose my mind (as it does happen rarely) and I drive him mad?

Will he still love me?

Things went sour when I moved in with my ex-husband. That is when we noticed we weren't compatible. Or at least, when looking back upon it all, that is when it started. That is when it went from good to bad. Then later, to worse. We both had expectations and neither one of us stopped to confer with the other. Granted, we didn't agree on much, not even the basics, so I am ahead of the game here. This relationship is nothing like my marriage.

But what if I haven't been showing him the real me? What if I don't know who he really is?

So many WHAT IF's. So many worries. So much scare.

BUT . . .

I love this man. I have ventured out and taken a huge risk with my heart. I am scared.

But I know it is all worth it. He is worth it.

in my perfect world

I feel sick. Sick to my core. My stomach is so hollow, yet a large rock resides within it echoing around within so that when I feel the need to wretch it just aches like when you have twisted and squeezed to the point where there is nothing left and still the feeling, the needing, the aching to drain it all out doesn't stop.

I can feel my heart pounding so loudly against my chest it reverberates in every part of my body especially my head which is flooded like it has to swim through goo in order to process information.

My breathing feels laborious like at any moment I might take my last breath.

As I look around people are laughing and carrying on as if all is right in the world.

Here I stand, carrying on as well.

My strength astounds me. That I am able to put all of this aside and act normal. To portray the person I don't feel inside. Whether that is because of the numbness or the agony, so great that surviving is the only way to go, I wish I knew.

But I won't let them see me give in. I won't allow that to happen. I am stronger than even I give myself credit for.

Instead I hold my head high and act the performance of a lifetime because in my perfect world people that respect me as I respect them would not betray me like this.

becoming one with nature (1 of 2)

Saint and I got away camping for FOUR DAYS and THREE NIGHTS. Mind you, I don't mean camping as in renting a trailer or a cabin. I mean we packed up the tents, sleeping bags, coolers of food and off we went to temperatures about 15 to 20 degrees cooler.

It was fabulous!

I surprised myself over and over again.

I helped find wood and stow it under the car, so it stayed dry because dry wood equals food and I need my food especially breakfast. I reached for one particular branch only to realize at the last second there was a spider on it. Ew! But I just stopped, took a breath and moved to the next one. I have no idea how many things I touched that contained bugs.



If you have ever seen LIFE, then you know about the monkeys that use rocks to open the palm tree coconuts. When Saint was using a rock to pound in the stakes for the tent, it reminded me of that video and I started laughing, hysterically and couldn't stop.


It took about half hour to set up camp. The tent he owned said, "Sun Tent" not knowing exactly what that meant, we were lucky we bought a few tarps because it didn't have a solid roof, just netting. We did buy an aero bed, but a very cheap one. Mental note, you really get what you pay for when it comes to an aero bed. But I was glad to have it. One of the few luxuries for us. We borrowed a lantern from my dad and bought a big flashlight. I planned food for all meals before we left. We also were lucky to have my parent's lend us a big duffel bag of utensils, plates, coffee pot (bless you for having a coffee pot), pans and pots, a metal grill to place over the camp fire to cook, cooking stove and a few other things.

Here's me lounging in our pretty cool tent.






This is called organizing. It may not look like it, but I really was very helpful - when I put the camera down.


It doesn't take long for things to calm down and then all of a sudden, it hits you. I have to go to the bathroom. Can I get a drum roll? I actually used the bathroom in the woods. The first attempt at it, I peed on my shoe. Whoops! I re-learned real quick. Eventually, I just walked out back of our camp, dropped trow and went. I even forgot to look for people after awhile. As far as bugs and such, I tried real hard not to even begin to look around. I don't want to know.

Not to bad for a bunch of city goers who haven't camped in a few years - apparently over 15 for Saint. He did well. I was so proud of him - after he finally told me - "I wasn't dating an outdoors man." Big shocker! (haha) For not being an outdoors man, he sure took hold and led the way.

We spent the first day basically enjoying our camp and exploring what was around.




I figured out around dinner time that I forgot to buy something to eat for dinner the first night. Whoops! We ate sandwiches - PB&J for me and PB for Saint. He apparently doesn't like strawberry jam. Only grape. We did get a fire going later that night and enjoyed a few smores. Also, a first for Saint - though he's eaten them, he's never actually made them. There is something about making them, that makes them better tasting.













It was pitch dark at night. No moon at all. Weird, but not a big deal. Kind of like when I watch a tv show and when they turn the lights off, the lighting gets a little brighter. When we turned off a lantern, our eyes would adjust and there was a soft glow of some sort to see very fuzzy shapes.

Why is it, we drive out into the wilderness and all of a sudden I have to go to the bathroom every hour at night? Poor Saint, he was kind enough to accompany me out into the dark to pee every time. What a guy!

There were these bugs that were flying around the lantern and flashlight. They looked like a cross between a beetle and a grasshopper. Saint did not like them at all. I guess he has a thing about certain bugs. I'm not a bug fan, but to see him was calming for me. Or maybe I was so distracted laughing that I couldn't begin to be afraid. What freaked me out, is being inside a tent where I can't see outside. My imagination just shot off the roof sitting inside wondering what all the sounds were. After a few nails into the skin, Saint started to really talk to me, distracting me.

It was like heaven to me. We would sit in the tent and read next to each other before falling asleep. This is what I always pictured marriage was supposed to be like. I remember climbing in between my parent's who used to read side by side in bed.

It is very true that I learned a lot about Saint on our trip. A few quirks, but all good things. Just reinforced the way I already feel about him.

Post It Note Tuesday - visiting a retail shop etiquette

Link up to SupahMommy. What can you say with Post It Notes?

(single) guy mentality - the proposal

Saint went golfing with the guys and came back with this story.

One of his friends, we'll call him Captain, said, "Guys, I gotta tell you something. I, I'm getting married." He looked devastated.

The guys (probably in unison) asked, "How the hell did that happen?"

Captain, "Honestly, I have no idea. One moment I was telling her that I thought we should talk about maybe getting married since we've been together for awhile and three days later, she bought the ring, picked a date and booked the place."

The guys answer, "Get out now."

WHO does that??

Saint and I decide to splurge a bit and go to dinner at a sit down, nicer steak restaurant.

We walk in, it's practically deserted. It's peaceful. Just the two of us over in the abyss of a nice, almost romantic place. We are talking and enjoying each other's company. When all of a sudden, this guy is seated next to us. He turns around to face us and says, "Sorry to interrupt, but can I ask you guys a question? Does it smell like rancid meat in here to you?"

-
-
-
-

(WTH?!?)

after what seems like an eternity, he continues, "My wife and I were just wondering if it was us. As we walked in, we swear we smelled rancid meat."

I look at Saint and he looks at me. We blink. What do you say to that?

I mean, we are sitting in a meat restaurant. Just ordered and he brings up RANCID MEAT.

WHO DOES THAT?

I seriously wanted to smack this guy. It tainted my dinner just a bit. Because I kept thinking about the rancid meat comment.

I wanted to say as we were leaving, "Enjoy your rancid meat." (add an expletive in there)

feeling like a real life

I'm sitting here on my new couch. Brand new. Delivered today. The matching piece to the love seat I've had for a couple of years. The sofa replaces the tattered lazy boy a friend offered me when I moved out of my ex-husband's house (our house, whatever).

It feels good. Like a new life.

The continuation of a new life.

It saddens me a bit to realize that getting this couch makes me feel like my life is continuing on in a good direction. But being that it was so hard with my ex, it's also so incredibly understandable.

Evidence.

It's a new start. A fresh beginning.

It's why I needed to delete my old blog.

It's why I needed to upgrade to an apartment I felt worth of.

It's why I decided to accept the full time position at my second job that exemplifies what I want in life - living in the moment.

It's why I decided a half a year ago to love unconditionally, no matter if he chose not to return the love.

Moments are so precious and so few and far between that if I don't stop and enjoy each and every one as if it were my last, I'm missing the point of living.

So here I am. Sitting on my sofa that is so big if I stretch out I won't reach both sides.

:)

Reflecting.

Pondering my past. My here and now. My future.

I'm happy things worked out the way they did. It's sad that it's reality, but I am old enough to know that I am such a better person for it all. I'm not sure I would be so full of life had it not all happened.

I wouldn't know that the best way I can treat myself is to breath; to stop looking at the clock and breath. Love exactly who I am. Laugh at myself.

I wouldn't know that the best way I can love Saint is to remember he is his own person. Allow him his space and allow him to choose. And to not rely on him to comfort me. I feel the way I do because of my choices and how I choose to react. I can comfort myself because I am know how to make myself happy and what to do when I'm not. Not to be afraid to tell him how I feel and what I need.

I wouldn't know the best way to communicate with my parent's is to realize their love language. And to remind myself I don't need their approval because I already have it.

I am so lucky.

I am surrounded by loving people. It is evident in our family dinner this evening. We ate. We laughed. We discussed. We just lived. With each other. We loved.

If only the rest of the world were so lucky.

Valet with a foot up his arse

I work in retail. Anyone who's worked at a retail store knows we have special parking. And by special I mean way out in bfe because the customers have to be able to park right up front. (and then complain because they're still too far and. They're sure that one car next to them is an employee bc it's closer)

I have parked in the same parking spot since I started my job, but the people at work are divided. Some park in one spot to the left of the store, which is where I've been parking because its more lite up and more people walk by - I feel safer there. The others park to the right behind a restaurant. I figured out that the people who park by the restaurant do it because they feel they have easier exiting capabilities. They're right, they do and since I drive home that way I started parking there.

Last night I got in my car and there was a parking ticket on my windshield. Wth?

When I parked there before work it was public parking, but when I came out it was valet. They ticketed me because I parked in they're valet spot BUT IT WASN'T VALET WHEN I PARKED THERE.

Being the nice person I am, I thought I'd pull up n explain that to the valet attendant.

He told me it is always valet and that it was just a warning so I'd know not to park there anymore.

Actually it wasn't valet when I parked, I explained.

And there is where we hit a brick wall.

Just because a restaurant has valet after seven pm DOES NOT MEAN that after seven all cars still parked there are in violation. Bastards! He even had the gall to tell me, my supervisors should tell me where to park. I'm not stupid. And who even gave valet powers to ticket anyway?

Well now I'm going to have to call the damn mall security and managers because that just isn't correct.