I am so…so…so…

OH SHIT WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO?!?!?!?

Just kidding.

I am so so so ecstatic, I don’t even know what or how to write right now.

In an email to a friend yesterday, I said, “It’s like he was just here, although then I remember the length of time he was away and how hard it was, and now hold him tighter and look at him longer.”

We kept waking up the first night and grinning at each other. I think at some point, I may have even said something stupid and obvious like, “you’re here!”

The girls are excited and are way overtired from staying up until 9pm every night, unable to sleep because he is in the house again. I know it will settle down, and I also need to train him not to go back up to check on them “one more time”…because as I learned a long time ago, you say your final goodnight, leave the room, and pray they go right to sleep.

He starts his gig down the road on Saturday night and I can’t wait to be there. Having him gig just down the road, in the old original venue of “us” is like a dream.

As I write this, he is up north packing his apartment up and pulled his car out of winter storage. I drove him up there today and had lunch with his family and then drove home, leaving him to his “stuff” while I come home and get some work done, so I am ready for his return on Friday.

On Monday, after sweet reunion and sentimental conversation, I asked “So, what did you miss the most?”

He turned to me and looked deep  into my eyes and grinned. “Your boobs.”

After my stoic response (which was a solemn/fake stare), he goes,”Oh, well, your cooking too. I definitely missed your cooking.”

In a little while

Last night was my last night without you.

In a little while you’ll be home.

I’ve cut my hair.

I painted my nails.

Waxed.

 

Shampoo’d the rugs.

I bought you a new toothbrush because sometimes, when you were away, I would space out and use yours. You need to start out here with a new toothbrush.

I’ve cleaned the bathroom.

I made a meal, something other than cereal.

It’s been six months and in a little while, tonight, you will be home for good.

I felt relief when I saw online that your plane landed in your layover city and your next stop is Boston.

I shouldn’t whine, because I know I got to go visit you on the first island. 

And then the second island.

And then for those two weeks at the beginning of March.

And those handful of hours on your layover just over six weeks ago.

But it’s not the same as turning to you on any particular night, perhaps a warm and balmy one with a full moon, and decide to open some cold beer with the windows open.  

It’s not the same of as your hand on my back when we sleep.

And it’s certainly not anything like what I wished for when I met you.

I’ll not being taking the normal things for granted, like brushing teeth and motioning to each other, who should spit first. It’s usually me, because you seem to brush for ten minutes and my mouth burns from the minty paste after two.

Or hearing you snore. That will always be a reminder that you are near. 

Your hilarious annoyance with the drunk folks who sometimes talk loudly in your ear at the piano, makes me laugh and I love being there for you to vent at the end of the night.  While we eat cheese and crackers at 2am standing up in the kitchen, half naked, before crashing into bed.

We’ll be waking up to the girls jumping on the bed, WAY too early in the morning, demanding a game of Uno and walking down to the breakfast place.

On most nights, when I was sleeping, I felt you “not here” and the wait just seemed way too fucking long.

I can shut down Skype for a long while.  

My goodness, Baby, tonight you are coming home.

And look, the tree outside the bedroom window is in bloom again. It’s about time.

Saying Goodbye

I was driving to the post office and bank one day, running errands and found myself pouring M&Ms into my mouth from a 21 oz bag. It’s not that I overeat, but I find sustinance in M&Ms for breakfast some days. Sometimes it is just a pot of coffee. Sometimes yogurt and fruit. Eating chocolate for breakfast is often a sign of being off balance.

That was about six months ago and J had just left for the island gigs. I was so so so sad, sadder than I let on. I got used to it, in a sad and lonely sort of numbing way. With trips and visits to look forward to, I kept plugging away at things. 

In the very beginning of our relationship, J was local half of the time. He was here for four days and then up north for the rest of the week. Knowing he was coming back each week for a few days at a time had been a luxury for me, but the season here was ending for him so we made our time together as we could.

So, today, I was thinking about how all our lives, we are saying goodbye.

We say goodbye, as often as we say hello.

I said goodbye when school ended every year for the summer. I said goodbye to my beach friends when I went back to school in the Fall. I said goodbye to to folks when I graduated highschool and moved to the midwest. Likewise for the end of college. I’ve said goodbye to my parents when I left home, for any period of time (but gladly happy to escape into a world of adulthood and independence). I’ve said goodbye to boyfriends, some gladly, and some sadly.I never said goodbye to the girls’ dad, because, well, I just can’t be rid of him, since he is still their dad.

I’ve crossed paths with great people who’s lives haven’t aligned with mine, where the significance of separating was greater than if we’d actually known each other better, longer.

I said goodbye to my grandparents who no longer grace this world with their sweet smiles, and some friends, who died too young or tragically or peacefully.

I say goodbye to my children, often enough and what seems like too much, when they leave to go to their father’s house. 

In fact, I say goodbye when I take them to school every morning. One stands at my side until the bell rings and prolongs her farewell. The other gives a little air kiss and runs off to see her friends.

Sending J off for his whirlwind of gigs felt more like a “see you later,” because for once, I felt pretty darn secure with someone leaving. Don’t get me wrong, though, I’ve had my moments. When it felt like he’d never be home. But I knew he would be. And deep down (and way out in front) I knew he wanted to be back home with me, with us.

I was talking to my friend D early on in J’s departure, and he said to me, quite clearly, “isn’t it better to be with someone who you trust and feel secure with, even if they go away, than feel unsafe and distrustful with someone who is near?” And he ended with “Use that time for yourself.”

And by golly, I did.

My friend, Jen, emailed me months ago, after I had a little email “freakout” (to her) about him being gone. One of those “I have no idea what will happen and suddenly I am thinking about this too hard.”

And my brilliant friend said this: 

“Oh sister, you are kinda having a meltdown on the this subject–that sucks and I know it feels scary and crappy and all that stuff mixed up.  It’s tough when you start out a relationship with someone who already has his life planned out (at least for the next several months) you want him to be able to drop everything and just poof! be with you and relocate and all that good stuff. I have a quote in my office shelf that I think about often. My minister once said to me, “God’s delays are not god’s denials.”  When things don’t work out the way we want them to, the moment we want them to, we doubt ourselves, our partner and the whole she-bang. But as tough as this next several months may be, you will blossom and grow in new ways as a person, a mom and a partner. There is plenty of wonderful time when the two of you will be together. Just try and be patient.”

And then she ended with, “Love is like water, it flows where it’s needed. He needs you and loves you and rest assured that all is well.”

Stocking up

Back in the day when our id’s were checked less thoroughly and Costco and BJ’s (I can’t say that without laughing) weren’t yet mainstream in our city, there was Fedco. My grandpa was somehow a member, I think because of his business, and he would let my mom borrow his membership card (remember, his picture was on it, and he was a balding six foot elderly man and my mother was a 5 foot four middle aged blonde woman, but she always got herself in the door of Fedco).

We were thrilled, as kids, to hear that Mom was making a trip to Fedco, because a) we knew it didn’t carry health food and whole grains and b) we knew in moments of weakness, she would bring home barrels of generic “Cheetos”  that we could eat until she came to her senses a week later and toss the last three pounds of it in the trash.

I am a member of Costco and have been for about four years. Now, I love Costco for many reasons, but there are three reasons I hate it. a) it takes me 30 minutes to drive there. I live on an island of sorts. My mentality now, after four years, is to see how long I can go without driving across that bridge, off island. b) they don’t take credit cards. I always pay off my credit card at the end of the month. But I cannot bring myself to drop $200 cash direct from my checking account, in one morning. c) they open at ten. I am the type to get somewhere at 9am and get my shopping done by 9:30 and be home for the rest of the day. I hate sitting outside in the parking lot waiting for the castle gates to open and feeling like the day will be half gone by the time I get home.

I was thinking about stocking up on things. Some things I find worth it, others, I don’t. At Costco, I cringe to think that I won’t have space to store the 52 rolls of Scott tissue, when one of my dreams in life is to never ever ever run out of toilet paper.  And the flats of croissants. Do you know how well croissants keep in a ziplock in the freezer? Yes. Croissants at our fingertips, at any time of day. Take out and defrost and heat for five minutes in the oven and ya feel like you’re in Paris. And of course, opening up that ten pound bag of M&Ms in the car on the way home from Costco and stuffing handfuls in my mouth while I blast my new Taylor Swift cd…well, that is just pricelss.

But, you see, the last year or so, I have just been ending up at Target for my stocking up. It is only fifteen minutes away. I get 15 rolls of toilet paper instead of 52.  I can get a mongo double pack of ketchup, because that appears to be the only thing resembling vegetables/fruit in our house, lately. And I can get a small bag of M&Ms at the checkout…all paid with credit card.

It occurred to me the other day, when I was in an old fashioned general store type place in our town, that Target is just that. A HUGE general store.

I was reading Little House on the Prairie the other day to the girls and Laura and Mary each got a little sugar cake for Christmas. I pointed to the illustration and said to the girls, “Look, this is likely the only sugar they had FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR!!!!!”  The girls gasped, for I know they were thinking about their treat bags hanging on the back side of the laundry room door (filled with Easter and Valentine candy, ready to be thrown out or eaten by me before the next holiday). 

I showed the girls the illustration of the penny  Laura and Mary got in the toe of their Christmas stockings. “See this? This bought them a week’s worth of groceries!”

The girls cringed, knowing their wallets were filled with dollars earned from polishing my copper and silver, folding laundry, or losing a tooth. They knew they intended to use their money on sharks teeth necklaces and Polly Pockets, not potatoes and cornmeal.

At any rate, this is just randomness about warehouse stores and stocking up. Random. Does anyone else remember Fedco? It was in Los Angeles. Big vats of  ”Cheetos”. Seriously, does it get better than that? I am curious how many people shop warehouses and actually feel they are saving money. And also wondering if what they buy ever goes to waste. Or is there something majorly awesome about going other than “Cheetos” stuck in your teeth for a lifetime?

Mama’s Day

On Mama’s Day, I woke up at 6am and gathered my clothes and started to sneak out my bedroom door. You see, I’ve been training the girls to not leave their room until the first number on the clock read “7″.

So, it being 6, I figured I could get a shower, have some coffee, and maybe get some work done in my studio before the girls came down to start the day.

But then I realized their bedroom door was open and their room was empty. I heard voices downstairs in the kitchen and thought “I’M SUPPOSED TO STILL BE ASLEEP!” and I dove back into bed.

I browsed the internet on my iphone under the covers until I heard the girls coming back upstairs. Sure enough, they plowed into my room yelling “HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!!!!”  

Red carried the largest tray I own (which is twice the size of a normal tray) filled with yesterday’s coffee cake, water, juice, straws, and a very full bowl of milk with what seemed to be half a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal.  Apparently, that had been sitting around for a few minutes…or perhaps twenty.

Soggy cereal. Mmmmmhmmmm. Oh, what we’ll do for our kids. (even gag down soaked cereal)

They were beaming and I was thrilled at their independence (and more thrilled when I went downstairs later to find that the entire kitchen was clean!) and the joy they took in celebrating a day for their mum.  We spent an hour reading and talking and snuggling in my bed. 

I am truly blessed by these little ones. No matter how big they get, they will always be the little ones.

Soon, they were off to play in their room and I went downstairs to shower and have my coffee. 

They took off for Sunday School with my mother (because I refuse to step into church, but they like to go sometimes) and J and I had a coffee date on Skype.

Then I went to the market and with the needed groceries, stocked up on candy bars for the day. A Twix. 1000 Grand. A mongo Peppermint Patty.

I called my stepmom.

I swept the kitchen floor.

The girls came home and my mom came in and I gave her the gift my sister and I had for her…she hung out for a while (refused to go out to Mother’s Day brunch, because as usual, she is on a diet and “isn’t eating anything”) 

The girls and I went outside and rode scooters and jump roped (they did, I sat on my ass on the stoop).

Their dad came at 3 to pick them up for their Sunday night overnight. He gave me a portrait of the girls in a frame.  

I ate chili con queso and guacamole with chips. I got heartburn. Happy Mother’s Day to me!!!!

I did some work.

J called as it was getting dark here and he was in bed, since he’s six hours ahead.

We talked about how in a week he’ll be on a plane home.

And then we just sat there and looked at each other.

“Show me your dimples,” I said.

The next thing I knew, he’d moved his computer so that the video cam was pointing directly as his bare chest.

“Show me your DIMPLES!” I repeated.

His face appeared on screen again and he smiled, showing his dimples.

And then he laughed, “I thought you said “nipples”!

Cleanliness

Am I the only person on this earth who manages to always buy a cleaning product where the spray part has gone defunct?

Am I doing something wrong?

My girls had play dates today, meaning, each of them had a friend come over after school. I am ashamed to say that due to our schedules and need for downtime after school most days, we rarely have play dates. The last one we had was in March when I was helping out a friend. And I resented it because it was one of the few days while J was home and I wanted us to all be together by ourselves. Not with play dates.

Anyway, today, these two girls came over. Beforehand, I drove up the street to pick up Red’s friends’ American Girl doll from her house, because they were going to have a “party”. I stopped in to visit with her mother, who is a friend, but I had never been inside the house.

Am I horrible to say that it was a horrible disaster? It smelled and the rugs, which were on top of gorgeous wood floors, were stained and disgusting. Dishes from breakfast were still on the table (and I arrived at 1:30pm). Am I a snob and do I have OCD if I do the dishes after every meal?  

Later, we dropped off Blue’s friend to her house. I am a horrible person, but when they showed me their pool, which was above ground and seemed to have been built in the sixties, rusted out posts and the fence falling down, I silently declined their offer in my head to come swim this summer. I knew very well, there was no way in hell we’d be doing that. The couch sitting poolside also was a slight turnoff. My girls thought it was cool, a couch out in the yard. But there was no way in hell they were going to be sitting on it.

I love these two friends, but I just can’t hang out in their houses. I just can’t. (or swim in their pools)

I don’t clean my house THAT often. But I keep it picked up. Sometimes it’s weeks before I do a full cleaning and I tend to wash my windows only once a year or so, depending on how well the rain does the job in between. But if the dust bunnies are walking, I sweep. A stain on the rug, I clean it, or get rid of the rug. If there is poop in the toilet, it gets flushed. (seriously). 

I definitely have standards. My kids take a bath every day. I take one, sometimes two showers. I am curious to know how many people out there, really don’t give their kids a bath after they’ve been at school for six hours with 400 other children, go to possible study group and then gymnastics and then their kids don’t take a shower before climbing in to bed. It happens more often than I realized.  

When I was a kid, we always took baths at the end of the day. It wasn’t until college that I started taking a shower in the morning and at night. Mainly because I blew dried my hair before leaving the house for classes and the warm shower when I woke up, felt good. But something that is a MUST for me, is that I have to shower at the end of the day. Often it may be around 6 or 7. Sometimes right before I crawl into bed. But the end of the day, I have to, I must be clean before going in between my sheets and lying there for 6-8 hours (if I am lucky). Otherwise, I’d be lying in my own filth.

I dated someone once, for a short time. It ended shortly after I realized he only took a shower every few days.

I.Just.Could.Not.Stand.It.

Thankfully, J showers as much as I do. He showers in the morning. He rinses off after, um, s-e-x (before we go somewhere, because GOD forbid someone smells it on us!). After gigging at night, we stand over a platter of cheese and crackers in our underwear, drinking fizzy water and catching up. And then we break for a shower. He finally has stopped apologizing for wanting to take a shower before bed, when he realized, I always do the same.

When it comes to us living together, I think we will be just fine. J is incredibly organized at home. And when he is here, he keeps incredibly tidy, organizes things for me, does dishes…at his place up north, it was the same and his apartments down in the islands, remarkably neat for a guy living on his own. 

His car, is another matter. It’s gotten better. But I laugh to think about the first time I ever got in his car. He wasn’t prepared for it, obviously, and neither was I. After apologizing profusely for a long long time, he threw about three feet of water bottles, sheet music, music electronics, cables and sound wires, microphones, donut bags and coffee cups…you name it, it was in there. 

Yeah, we’re all entitled to have a mess, in some place, right?

Open Studio…more randomness

Here is a bird nest painting with graphite I have done, part of a series I worked on last month.

In my last post of randomness, I mentioned my talking to my lawyer. No, exhusband isn’t going for custody or anything like that. In fact, I am just doing some preventative research…and I am a little nervous but more calm today after more emails with my attorney. (imagine Bernadette Peters, miniature) 

I spent Friday and Saturday preparing for my Open Studio on Sunday.

With the economy and lack of exposure in the winter and rain and feeling all “bah” about things right now, I decided to mark everything down 30% for the month of May and have a Sunday afternoon party.

It turned out on the slow side due to the rain, but those who came, bought work. One who came, bought work and called the next day to come back and commission me to do a companion piece to the one she bought. 

I’ve had and am continuing to have, more browsers and hopefully buyers, this week.

A photo of my small studio with piles of watercolors from my files.

J starts work in two weeks at our local piano bar. It’s where we met. It’s a magical place (even before I met him, it was a magical place) and I am so proud of him and so excited for the summer, our nights at the piano bar, with friends, with him shining the best way he knows how. It is the perfect and only real venue for him, where he is completely in his comfort zone.

He said to me tonight, “I can’t wait to play there again. These last six months have done nothing for me, compared to (insert name of piano bar here).”

The girls are excited for him to come home. They don’t undertsand what “a week and a half” means. They kind of understand “a week and four days.”

I totally understand it. Down to the minute!

I’m in a funkiness with food lately. Chili Con Queso. Huh? Seriously. Every day. A little bit every day.

Somehow, I have lost weight and not sure where it is going because I am eating somewhat normally (but healthier) and walking every day. The bummer is that my new bras don’t fit so great. I can stuff them, right?

Total Randomness

I just feel like being random, I felt like going to sleep at 8 but then, decided to do absolutely nothing but, well, pretty much nothing. In fact, I am not sure what I did the last few hours. And my lids are half drooped and I feel exhausted and other things.

J will be home in a week and a half.

It rained all day today and I painted all day and drank a pot of coffee. (which may be why I am so tired but not going to bed). My open studio on Sunday went sloooowly, but the people who did come, bought work and I have some commissioned work now too. I also networked with some artist friends as well as a new client who gave me names of interior designers she thinks may be interested in my work. 

Anything helps.  

It didn’t help that during my Open Studio, people didn’t eat much of the refreshments, so I pretty much ate an entire batch of lemon squares.

Remember book fairs at school when you were a kid? I got giddy over them and I am still giddy over them. My girls have their Scholastic Book Fair this week at school. They had their preview days and Friday I will go in and purchase with them. I am letting them pick out 5 books each. YAY summer reading. Plus, how can you reject a book fair?

I found out my exhusband is buying a house without selling his current two family house in a very wealthy part of the city.

The new house is on a lake, with alot of land, with ten rooms and lots of bathrooms. I looked it up, It’s around a million dollars. Glad business is going well for him and the child support will keep on coming.

My mom just bought a cottage overlooking a cove, that is to die for. It is one bedroom. But perfect. She bought it for a fraction of the price that exhusband bought his mansion.

I live in a 1200 square foot condo and am most happy here, more happy than I have been anywhere else.

Blue can read. She can read like nobody’s business, for a kindergartner. I am so proud.

Red struggled with math in first grade and last summer we had five tutoring sessions. She no longer struggles with math. It’s a relief!

I had to talk to my divorce attorney about some stuff. Please hold in your prayers (and I don’t pray, but I will now) that things will be okay. That’s all I will say right now.

I think I found miracle face wash and cream. I haven’t had a blemish in two weeks.

Another plug for Skype

On his last gig in Europe, J lands in his room with some stellar internet connection.

Skype works like a dream.

We talk four times today.

I watched him fall asleep for his nap before his first night gigging in this new club.

Later, after he played, he called.

We looked at each other clearly, so clear, I could see the dimples I love in his cheeks. There was no interruption, we never froze or got cut off like every night in the last month…because, I repeat, the internet was stellar.

“Hey, Baby.” He said. “Can’t wait to be home with you soon.”

But he was a little upset that in his European digs, the television doesn’t pick up the incredible NBA game that was going on at that very moment..

So we solved that problem from my end for him.

Yay for Skype!

 (note: in case you don’t “get” it, I set up my laptop for him in front of the television in my bedroom so he could Skype with the NBA game. Seriously. This really happened.)

Tax Write Offs

I came out okay on taxes this year, merely because I didn’t make alot of money and I spent a bundle on this Apple MacBook Pro.

Sad, huh?

I love my Apple MacBook Pro. I love it more than ALMOST everything in my house, almost more than my iphone, which comes in second over my butter dish and handmade mattress and seasonal ocean view.

And if you don’t include people in my house. I love people in my house more than I love my Macbook Pro. But I sure do love my Macbook Pro.

Worth-every-penny.

A few years ago, when I first started filing individually again after my divorce, I overpaid my estimates. By four thousand dollars. My tax guy, who I think is great, just left it and rolled it over the next year.

Well, this year, I realized something and sent him an email.

“May I have whatever money is leftover please so I can put it in my CD?” 

So, instead of rolling it over again, I got about three thousand dollars back. Mentally, I am calculating what I will need next year, but grateful to have the refund in my own control.

So, I know two people now who had boob jobs.

One is a realtor.
The other is a yoga instructor.

Neither are my friends, but I know them.

Apparently, they wrote off their boobs jobs for “business expenses” because they say it helped bring in more business.

Seriously.

And to think, although I am painting from photos I took on my trips to the islands to visit J, my tax guy laughed when I asked, “can I write part of this trip off as a business expense?”

Seriously. I am cranking out 15 new paintings from this one island trip. And ten more in the works from the other trip. And these ladies WROTE OFF THEIR BOOB JOBS.

I can’t figure out why my tax guy laughed when I asked if I could write off some of my trip expenses?