A Room of One's Own

Oh, this is embarrassing.

I am a girl. I am utterly and hopelessly a girl. I know sometimes I project a little bit of a "take no prisoners" rough exterior. It's a facade. I am weak.

A few weeks ago, I had a shamlessly weak girly moment at the check out stand at the local grocery store where they have those movies for $9.99. Impulse took over and got the best of me and before I knew it, I was walking out of the store with a brand new copy of Love Actually. And last night, in a successful effort to come up with a reason not to go running, I decided my muscles were tired and need this movie. This movie needed me. It occurred to me about the time that the Prime Minister celebrates handing the Presidnet his ass, then dances around the house to the Pointer Sisters:

I am a complete and absolute sucker for Hugh Grant. It's not that I think Hugh Grant is fabulously good looking because, really, he's not. He's got that droopy eyed, floppy hair thing. Cute but not ga-ga worthy. But, if any of his movies are on TV, you can bet your ass I'll be glued to the TV. I can't resist him. I generally adore boys who frequently make jackasses out of themselves. I find it endearing and charming is a way that only dorky boys can be charming. Remember Four Weddings and a Funeral? "In the words of David Cassidy, when he was still with the Partridge family, I think I love you." Jackass seems to work for him. I say, go with your strength, Hugh.

So yes, as intellectual and deep and I may fancy myself, my movie collection has once again betrayed me. Now, excuse me, I have to go peruse Ebay for a copy of Notting Hill.

117 more days!

Until what? Christmas. I am already counting the days until Christmas. Last year, Christmas kind of sucked. The husband had to work. His family was in town for several days. His sister never helped with a damn thing. I had to invite my best friend over to keep me from killing people. I made a fabulous dinner, which I think was kind of lost on them. I am my father's daughter. If I make you food, I want audible evidence that you love it.

But, I'm optimistic! This Christmas is going to be so completely different given current circumstances. Not quite sure how yet. But, I can't begin to tell you how much I love Christmas. I love everything about it. Last year, I bought garland for my stairway. It was gorgeous. I enjoy making a huge production of decorating the tree. Christmas music going, getting loopy on the 'nog or some good red wine. I love that it's cold outside. I love that everything sparkles. I love that they show A Christmas Story all day on Christmas Day. I love wrapping presents.

Mostly though, I love the cooking. I love spending three days in my kitchen making absurd amounts of food. And the cookies. Oh Gawd, the cookies. Really, that's what I'm counting down to. I'm not kidding when I say that I drifted off to sleep last night lying in my bed thinking about what cookies I was going to make this Christmas. It's sick. I know.

Open Letter

Dear Person Who Left the 10 Commandments of a Happy Marriage Article in my Box at Work,

A few things, oh anonymous friend of mine. You're a day late and a dollar short. This seems to be an epidemic going around. Considering that we have actually filed for divorce, may I ask your intetions on this educational opportunity you have afforded me? Was it a) "Hey, this is how you might have fucked up!" or was it B) "In case you ever get married again, don't fuck it up!"

Also these are delightful commandments. I'd like to take this time to comment on a couple. My personal favorite is #4. Honor thy mother-in-law and father-in-law. This is fabulous advice. If I ever get married again and I have in-laws come to town for 10 days, during Christmas, while I'm 9 months pregnant, I am going to let them know that it's no problem for them to stay at YOUR house. My second favorite is #6. Fight a clean fight. I am certain you know and realize I'm Italian. This is against my genetic make-up. My great grandmother spent a night in jail for stabbing my great grandfather's girlfriend. We just don't "do" clean. If I can't work "you mother fucker" into an argument, why, it's just not worth arguing. I will, however, stay away from kitchen knives.

Lastly, the links that were included in the article wer very interesting as well. You can be rest assured I skipped right by the additional reading available on iVillage via such fine journalistic endeavors as 5 Ways to Create Joy in Your Relationship, The Divorce Proof Marriage: Does it Exist, and Recharge Your Relationship in One Weekend. I almost read the last one but saw it was not subtitled Here's Your Tazer Honey, Please Stand in the Pool. I did, however, beeline right for the little tidbit off to the side: The Wine Life: Your Guide to Life's Little Luxuries. Thank you for that.

How do these things keep happening.

There are a lot of random events happening in my life. I've felt for the last few years that my life just stands still. Motionless until I force myself to propel it forward or, as it seems, backward. There are chain reactions going on everywhere. Maybe I'm just allowing myself to see these things happen and to actually recognize them.

Regarding the writing thing. Just days after my little creative explosion, I was talking with my friend Emily about process. A day later we had a little messagebaord set up for writers to share ideas and thoughts and obstacles. It's going to be a good home and I hope it continues to grow and inspire. That's an open invitation to any writers, by the way.

Then, just today, I get a fabulous email from a former student of mine. Smart guy. Always been too smart for his own good. He told me that my class was one of the only ones that encourage expression, that mine urged him to write creatively. He's still writing and living in Europe. I'm very proud of this. Both of him and of myself.

There's a new kind of excited I'm feeling. I was re-reading my blog entries from months back and found it interesting how many times I felt like the shoe was going to drop. I don't feel anxious anymore. I feel no dread. Just anticipation.

A little homesick

I live in the same town I grew up. Been here for 27 years and haven't left save 4 years of college 140 miles away. I currently live in the same school district I went to. I feel homesick.

I miss my friends. In the last few years, it's been difficult for me to make and maintain friendships locally. It's a combination of working a lot, this insane schedule I've been forced to keep and partly my own fault for losing myself in my marriage. I have several very good friends that I would jump in front of a speeding tricycle for. I love them. But, sadly, I rarely get to see them, let alone see them together. We have once a year and I live for that weekend. 

I'm needing a fix. Big time. I'm really wanting the general hilarity that ensues whenever this group gets together. I keep joking that I'm just going to show up at Kate's house. But, really, I'm very close. I don't know if it's that I need to blow off steam or that I'm generally sad that I can only talk to my friends via cell phone and usually it's much later their time than mine. Either way, I miss my friends and it's making me feel just a little homesick. I'm not sure if that makes sense, but it's about the only word I can remotely use to describe this.

That's a negative Ghost Rider

I am in a holding pattern of the worst kind. Everything in my life is just on pause. As I told a friend, I'm not menopausal, I'm just pausal. I hate pausal. I am the type of girl who needs to be in control of her life and needs to have options, and good ones. I am not the type of person to sit around and wait for life to just happen, I am going to go out and make it happen. This situation is the worst kind of frustration you could possibly throw at me.

My house has been on the market for a week and a half and we've had not one single call. I know that the market is soft and I know how impatient I am. But, really, until my house sells, there can be no forward momentum in my life. I just have to hover like one of those kite eagles. I can't move out. I can't find a new house. I can't start that miraculous happy moment of being on my own again.

In the meantime, I am growing to HATE my current house. It's my dream house, don't get me wrong. I have put so much love and energy into that house. I just haven't gotten any return on that investment and I don't mean just financially. I don't want to be there. Coming home is like that moment when you first open the door to the oven to remove whatever it is that you made. Same wall of heat only it doesn't smell nearly as good.

I don't like my fate being in the hands of someone else. I want my options.

One thing I know.

There are few things of which I'm certain. There is truth in Dorothy Parker.

Short leave of absence

I feel like I haven't written anything here in a while. I see that's not exactly true.  But it feels true. I think it's because I have so much in my head that needs and wants to come out but I sit down and...blah.

Life in a nutshell: I'm getting a divorce. I'm trying to sell an expensive house in a shitty market. I'm trying to figure out where the hell I'm going to live. I'm trying to finish 16 budgets at work. I'm in dire need of hair color, a pedicure and the lost of about 7 pounds as I look like hammered shit. I'm trying to deal with insane family members. I'm trying to remember how it feels to be genuinely happy. I'm trying not to kill people. I'm trying to write this all down.