I'm fallin' apart here

panic attacks
insomnia
a rash
high cholesterol
pain in the side
feet hurt
and now...
stabbing earache

I love the end-of-quarter-crazies

Pity, Party of One

There's too much going on.

One of the reasons I chose what I did was because I know what my strengths and especially my weaknesses are. I'm not good at talking in front of people. I'm not a leader. I am a great support person. Assign me tasks, put me in a back room somewhere, don't push me too hard, and I will do everything I can think of to make your life easier and your day run smoother. The world is full of people who want to rule. Not me. I want to be a loyal and dedicated follower.

So why am I buried in assignments where I have to negotiate contracts and conduct mock trials? If I wanted, or thought I was remotely capable of any of that I would be in Law School. I would not be working as hard as I do to be a worker bee! And to make it a completely miserable situation, to ease off the pressure and not have the entire responsibility for talking on me I would have to take someone else down with me. Even if they did everything perfectly, they would be graded down for my fuck ups and that I can't do.

So after I fall on the sword and 'volunteer' to do it alone so I can't hurt anyone else's grade, I realize I'm still screwed because my behavior effects the other side in the trial and the students who are portraying the 'witnesses'.

Can't drop the class. Have to have it to graduate so I'd just have to do it all over again.

I want this to be all over.

The 'Smart' Choice

On one hand you have the smart choice...the one everyone thinks you should be with, the one that makes sense, the one from the same town, compatable careers, you're friends, it's comfortable.

And on the other hand you have the one that makes your eyes light up, your heart sing, may not be rational, may not make sense, may not be the sensible decision but there is an instant attraction when you meet.

Go for the one your heart wants.

Friendship matters, liking matters, respect matters but without the spark of attraction life gets cold quickly and lasts long.

It Always Comes In Threes

Tyranny of the Boomers

So Brick and I are riding home in his car and and I hear the radio play "Mississippi moon wontcha keep on shining on me..."

"Brick, this was a really great song...when I was a sophmore in high school! Why are we listening to it now?"

So I admit to being the first one to turn up the volume when 'Layla' plays but how many times does anyone need to hear 'Satisfaction', 'Stairway to Heaven', or, Lord help, 'Freebird' in one lifetime?

I don't resent people listening to the old stuff. I resent their not realizing it's old! How would we have felt in the early seventies if we never heard Led Zepplin, The Who, or Foghat because our parents had a really big demographic and the radio was full of Guy Lombardo and Kay Kyser? The equivalent to endless replays of 'Rock and Roll All Night'? Pat Boone's 'April Love'. Over..and over...and over again.

So if radio programmers are so wedded to the concept of 'Oldies', at least expand the time frame. Throw some Inkspots and Harry James in the mix, some Gershwin and Porter, some original Delta Blues and Hank Williams (the original not the pale progeny).

But no more 'Light My Fire' and don't make me see Mick Jagger's sixty-year-old abs ever again.

I love a man with a sense of irony

Jail reshuffles inmates in flap over gums
Accused jet thief placed in cell with dentistBy JOHN GHIRARDINIThe Atlanta Journal-ConstitutionPublished on: 02/27/06

A Gwinnett jail inmate whose dental health issues have pitted his parents against Sheriff Butch Conway now has access to a dentist 24 hours a day.On Friday evening Daniel Andrew Wolcott became a cellmate of a Dacula dentist facing murder charges in the death of his wife.

"I had him moved to a cell with Bart Corbin," Conway said Sunday. "[Corbin's] trained in dentistry, and if there are any complications, they can advise the medical unit. [Wolcott] just had his wisdom teeth out, so I think it's a good thing he's in a cell with a dentist."

Wolcott, 22, is awaiting trial for allegedly stealing a $7 million private jet in St. Augustine, Fla., in October and flying it to Briscoe Field in Lawrenceville.He's been in jail since then in lieu of $175,000 bond. He faces charges in Florida and also may be subject to federal charges.

Wolcott's parents, Scott and Diane Wolcott, have been at odds with Conway since November over dental floss not being allowed in the jail.

They say their son's inability to floss caused him to develop gingivitis and gum pockets, which if left untreated could become full-blown periodontal disease.The sparring culminated last week with a series of scorching e-mails and phone messages Scott Wolcott sent to Conway demanding immediate action on the issue or the sheriff's resignation.

Now, Scott and Diane Wolcott say putting their son in a cell with a dentist who can't practice his profession is no solution."This appears to be a very bad inside joke on someone's part," Scott Wolcott said Sunday. "I feel I have legitimate concerns that deserve to be addressed and resolved, not just brushed aside or made the brunt of someone's strange sense of humor."

The younger Wolcott, who goes by Andrew, was taken from his unit by a pair of sergeants Friday evening and brought to Unit K, according to his parents and Conway. There, he and Corbin were assigned to Cell 104.

Corbin was transferred from his original cell on the second floor of K pod. The third man in 104 is being held on a probation violation, his jail booking sheet shows.Other inmates in K pod face charges ranging from aggravated assault and kidnapping to armed robbery and rape, according to jail records.

Scott Wolcott reiterated Sunday that his concerns are not simply for his son, but for any and all inmates who pass through the detention center.A plan to carry small floss picks in the jail store late last year was abruptly canceled, the Wolcotts said.

"The Supreme Court has ruled that we don't have to provide floss to inmates," Conway said Sunday. "We're not breaking new ground here."

"I'm taking on a very serious health care issue, and I don't appreciate Sheriff Conway making a joke out of it," Scott Wolcott said. "I don't think the Georgia or American dental associations would find it very funny, either

For want of a nail
the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe
the horse was lost.
For want of a horse
the rider was lost.
For want of a rider
the battle was lost.
For want of a battle
the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want
of a horseshoe nail.

As much as I loved Barney....

I loved movies like The Love God, How To Frame A Figg, and The Reluctant Astronaut

Forty Years?

What current movies will still be this good in forty years?

It's almost enough to make me forgive TCM for showing The Karate Kid.

Almost.

Forgive Me,Oprah

for I have sinned.

Oprah takes on women with sexual addiction. Which means there are 'Ewwws' and expressions of disgust from Oprah, the All-Compassionate and denials of any pleasure and expressions of great shame from the women.

Is it an addiction? I don't know. There is a feeling of 'Score!' when you pick someone up. You see it, you want it, you get it. Is that addiction or do you just want to win?

The problem comes with the shame. But is it true shame or are you trying to feel what society tells you that you should. What society tells women they should.

I'll admit to carelessness and recklessness. I'll admit to doing stupid things. I'll admit to using men like Kleenex and throwing them away.

But I won't admit to being ashamed.

Because I'm not.

I think we can all see

"Respect me first, then I'll show you what I've done with my wife." - Kevin Federline.

Ummmm...

Why am I reminded of Pretty Baby?

Spring is Coming

Kentucky Rain

Letting Down the Team?!

So women that stay home to raise their children are letting down the team?! What team?!! The only 'team' I signed up for is my family. That is my team.

What gives people the presemption to include anyone on the 'team' on the basis of their gender, race, sexuality, or nationality? How dare they?

It pisses me the hell off when people say 'All...whatever': All women should work, all women should stay home, all people should be married, all blacks should vote Democrat.

I am an individual not one of a nameless faceless demographic and I ain't getting drafted onto anyone's team.

Tissue Anyone?

Since Brokeback Mountain has become the movie to go see for most of my friends (female heterosexuals) I've started to wonder...do women just want a movie that makes them cry?

It should be good, not maudlin or manipulative, not too many so that they become commonplace but one good tearjerker a year can do great business.

A Promise Before God

A couple I know decided they had made a mistake and they needed to end their marriage. There families intervened, sat them down for the 'You made a promise before God' talk and they're now trying again.

Has this ever worked out well?

Sometimes things are over and it's best to get out before too much pain and damage occurs. Instead, this couple is now gritting their teeth and doing all the things everyone says will make it all better whether they want it to be or not. Counseling? Check. Spending time together? Check. Reading how to save your marriage books? Check.

And they're both miserable.

Let's just hope no one tells them having a baby is a great way to get a marriage back on track.

Having One's Cake

There may be people out there that are so complete that they can fulfill every need for another person. One of these days it would be nice to meet one of those people.

The Mommy Wars

So the war wages on between working women and stay at home moms (SAHM) as it has forever and ever, amen. Or at least for the last thirty to forty years.

Working Moms are selfish and putting their own wants before their kids' needs and SAHMs have dark, empty lives filled with unfulfilling, boring, repetitive tasks.

I'm not going to judge any woman for working. Each woman can decide what her own circumstances are and what suits her own family. But some truths are inescapable. It is better for children to be raised by family than daycare, no matter how good the daycare may be, and women take a huge economic and social hit by choosing to stay home. They lose the years where other women (and most men) are building careers, work histories, and resumes. They find themselves going back into the workforce with new technology and no references and a lot of fear.

For some people it's a fair trade off. They're willing to put up with the insecurity, the dependency, and the anxiety because they enjoyed raising their kids and felt they were doing something important. For others, it's not.

But I am irritated at the condescending 'boring, repetitive' rap. What work isn't boring and repetitive? For every woman in a career where they write magazine articles and jet around as a corporate climber there are a heck of a lot more women working at Walmart, making french fries, working in factories, doing clerical work, and a thousand other mundane, boring, repetitive, jobs. They're necessary jobs but they sure aren't fulfilling.

And the boring and repetitive things that SAHMs do? Someone still has to do it. Children=poopie diapers=someone has to change them. Someone has to cook. Someone has to clean. Someone has to buy food, wash clothes, organize the household. It has to be done and it's usually still women who are doing it.

Only these days they're doing it all after they spend 40 hours a week at their fulfilling, exciting careers. Waiting tables at Waffle House.

Crazy People

There's this thing about crazy people...you can see it. There's something in the eyes, or the tone of voice, or the words they use that lets you know something isn't right.
I give people like that a wide berth, step back and to the side as I skirt around them, giving them plenty of room as I get away as quickly as I can. I don't want to be there when the inevitable explosion happens. I don't want to see it, hear it, or be stung by the shrapnel.

Which is why I don't understand the people who poke crazy folks with sharp sticks. Do they not realize what they're dealing with or is their goal to push the person till they're climbing a tower with a high-powered rifle?

Whatever the reason I've noticed the human behavior of ganging up on the crazy, who may have started out as garden variety quirky. It's bullying at it's best.

I keep thinking of school shootings and how commentators ponder why young people don't realize that high school is temporary. In some ways, high school never ends.

So....

A young couple gets married. They've both had some success but neither one is all that big. He is a little better known than she. They have about the same amount of money.

They do a project together and she becomes famous (and rich) because of it. Her claim to fame is their show, The Newlyweds. She parlays that fame (and her own talents, abilities, and appearance) into even bigger success and he is beside her every step of the way with publicity, special events, and appearances.

Pay the boy the money.

It could have gone either way. Being your Groom might have made him a $50 million man and you would have deserved half. So does he.

Win One For the Dirty Mistresses

Grey's Anatomy is the hot new show and the most talked about aspect has been the triangle between Meredith, Derek, and his adulturous wife, Addison.

Addison may be the most hated woman on episodic television right now.

I like Addison. I understand why Derek isn't rushing to end his marriage without giving every effort to fix it.

But I still want the Dirty Mistresses to win.

I just don't mind if it takes a few episodes.

I Feel Like Cheating Tonight

Ok so it's not that bad. Sunday is my official day to be a little naughty on the diet (which is one of the reasons Sunday at Golden Corral can almost drive me to tears).

For dinner tonight we're having pot roast (beef!!!) cooked with onions, peppers, green chilis, and lime; mashed potatoes with just a smidge of butter, and snow peas and broccolli. I'm hoping that the fat-free (and low sodium!) method of preparing the pot roast will help excuse the teaspoon of actual real butter I'm putting on my mashed potatoes.

If it doesn't, oh well, today is the day when I can get away with that sort of thing.

Power and Control

I wonder if Merv behaves badly to inspire my dominant side? I gotta admit nothing makes me want to switch and torture him more than broken promises and feeling unappreciated.

The Ghetto Bachelor

Why would anyone want Flava Flav? He's short, he's ugly, his career is over except for sad reality shows on VH1, he was never that big in the first place, he has no money, and he doesn't pay his child support. He also has lousy taste and bad table manners.

And yet there are all these women getting ready to bitch slap one another to be his Chosen Ho and have him say "You know what time it is?" Yes, it's the time when it becomes clear that women have lost all self respect and will do anything to win and be on television.

There is a ragtag collection of liars, strippers, former reality show guests who would screw on Blind Date, and one woman named New York who is doing a damn fine impression of a drag queen. She confidently proclaims that he is 'her' man and no one is going to take him away from her and she's not going to share him with anyone. That she's saying this while he has a bed full of women makes me hope that this is a character she's playing. If not, she's a good illustration of why our society claims monogamy works.

Oh well...maybe VH1 is garnishing his paychecks so his kids get some support.

Celebrity Fit Club

Hi, I'm Jeff C. and I'm a bullshit addict.

So Jeff Conaway comes back to Celebrity Fit Club after rehab and demonstrates that he still doesn't get it, addicts are manipulative liars, and rehab does nothing to improve whining.

This season of Celebrity Fit Club has had Conaway in the crazy celeb meltdown spot, Countess Vaughan gaining weight, Tempestt Bledsoe sulking and endlessly complaining, Chastity Bono as the one who seems to be motivated and trying and still can't lose the weight, and Kelly LeBrock as the recovering Hottie. Gunnar Nelson, who replaced Conaway, needs some serious therapy. He's an overmotivated perfectionist looking for a place to crash.

These shows can revitalize or crush careers. I'd love to see Chastity and Kelly get career boosts from this. I never want to see Conaway or Bledsoe again.

The True Believer

I keep getting the impression that people think I should be ashamed of Brick because he's more than a little fanatical on the subject of traffic enforcement.

It's not happening.

There are plenty of reasons why I get irritated with Brick but the way he conducts his professional life has never been one of them. I guess I've always understood his motivation.

That and I've seen how people in this town drive.

We had only been married a couple of months when Brick came home in the early hours of the morning. I was asleep, which was a rare thing in the early days. I just didn't sleep well when he was gone. I don't know why I thought evil-doers were just waiting to break into my house in the middle of the night (yes, I do, but that's another story). Anyway, I was so asleep that, for the first time, Brick accidentally on purpose woke me up.

There he was, at the foot of the bed, sitting hunched over after performing the world's loudest shoe drop, uniform in disarray, and a stunned expression on his face. He started telling me about an accident, how some young kid had been racing, lost control of his car, and was crushed up against a tree. Brick got there right after it happened and tried desperately to put enough of the kid's face together to perform mouth-to-mouth as the kid lay dying in front of him. He was up most of that night, going over every move, trying to think of something he could have done to save the unsavable.

There have been a lot of nights since the first that I've been awoken so he can talk about the bad ones, a lot of accident scene photos spread across my kitchen table, a lot of stories about what force and motion do to the human body.

It's simple for him. Bad driving causes accidents -- accidents kill people -- traffic enforcement is the stick that coerces people to drive better. He's a true believer.

And so am I.

Well...if this is the reason for all the secrecy at least she's cuter than Jennifer Fitzgerald

Dead-Eyed Dick

So I realize it's the first time a Vice President has shot someone since Aaron Burr but come on!!!

According to people who know anything about bird hunting, this sort of thing happens all the time...it's usually not people you hear anything about. It is amusing to see the press corps, which probably knows as much about hunting as I do, going on and on about this as if they were experts. At least I admit I don't know what the heck I'm talking about.

So now the Vice President is a laughingstock (it is funny), everyone knows about this lawyer and his medical condition that no one knew from nothing a week ago, and conspiracy theories are swirling around the Internet (he shot the lawyer to send a message to Scooter Libby...he was his 'hunting buddy' and he tried to quit him...the lawyer's really dead like a Soviet Politibureau member with a 'cold' but they're hiding the information [and the body])

And I know a lot more about birdshot and canned hunts than I ever wanted to know.

When the Goose was Cooked

A story came up today that illustrated the problem with long-term marriages. A man goes bird hunting in the early years and kills a goose. He proudly goes home with his kill to show his wife expecting her to ooh and ahh and tell him how wonderful he is. Instead she tells him that geese mate for life and he has destroyed a happy couple and left a gander that will spend the rest of his life alone.


He never went goose hunting again. And he's still kind of bitter about the whole thing.


(as a little aside, with the emergence of DNA that mating for life theory is falling apart. DNA testing on the offspring of these avian life partners shows that they may be paired for life but they're sneaking into the bushes with other birds)


I wonder if his wife remembers the goose?


Many of the things I believed, said, and was willing to fight over in the early years are long gone from my mind but Brick probably has a few goose stories of his own. And he's probably still kind of bitter too.

Fridge Dump Supper

Came in late from class last night and warmed a tortilla and topped it about 4 ounces of chicken breast pieces I had marinated in hot wing sauce then pan broiled; sliced celery; leftover broccoli slaw made with fat-free mayo, skim milk, and lemon juice; green leaf lettuce and half a tomato.

We'll deal with it

Amazing what such a simple phrase, said automatically, without thought or time to consider the impact, can do for a girl.

Chicken Fajita Salad

Tonight I battled Brick to cook supper at home. I had found some beautiful tomatoes and had some chicken that needed to be cooked and I wasn't up to a repeat of Golden Corral.

I stir fried the chicken (cut into bite-sized pieces and seasoned with chili powder and cumin) in a little olive oil with red and green peppers, onions, and orange and lemon juices. I filled a big pasta bowl full of mixed salad greens (romaine, spinach, green leaf, arugula) with some kidney beans, mexicorn, and one of the tomatoes sliced, spread the warm chicken over the base, then topped with a sliced avocado and a little bit of shredded cheese. I served it with a Baja Ranch dressing and set out tortillas and butter for Brick.

It was great. Even Brick liked it.

Another Brick in the Wall

I've adjusted to eating a new way. I'm even enjoying it. Food tastes different without all the fat and grease. Good different! It's the constant battle with Brick that is wearing me down.

Last night I offered to take him to dinner. I told him I was willing to cheat a little and enjoy a (reasonably) good meal. Let's go out and have a good time. I made a number of suggestions and he turned them all down. I could see where it was going so I said he could pick wherever as long as I could get a side salad. I figured I could at least get out of wherever for $2.99 to $5.99.

He chose Golden Corral.

Where I spent $9.79 for about 15 leaves of wilted spinach, 2 chunks of cantalope, and 1 chunk of honeydew. And spent an hour getting lectured about trying new things and being told I should eat the beans (that were coated in grease). I pointed out that I have tried new things all week (I poached fish!) and he smugly asked 'What have you tried new tonight?" I am not wasting my cheating fat/calories/sodium on garbage.

He has to be doing this on purpose because it's not possible that he's that stupid!

I'm seeing how I developed a lot of my phobias, particularly the one about eating out in public.

On the good side..in 10 days I already feel so much better. I can see physical changes. I can see my ankles!

What the heck did that mean?

So I told Merv I was in a (self?)destructive mood Friday and it was either cut my hair or do something else equally stupid and he said it was good I hadn't cut my hair because then I'd have to start growing it all over again. I'm still trying to figure out what that means.

I grow my hair for him. So was his immediate and confident reaction that I'd be back to growing it out a way of saying he wasn't going anywhere or that he knows I'm never walking away from him or both?

If it was a semi-inarticulate way of saying he's not leaving me, I'm touched (though a clear declaration would be a lot easier to understand). If it was that he assumed that no matter what I'm coming back to him, I'm kind of stunned at the arrogance. If it was that he knows neither of us is going anywhere, I can live with that cause it's pretty much the truth.

As I sing my Jack Twist lament of 'I wish I knew how to quit you' I try to find the ways to do it and the more I look, the more I realize how special Merv is. Not perfect for anyone else but me. He's flawed and infuriating and can be a selfish bastard but he's who I want.

Even when I know I should probably be memorizing the lyrics to 'Unanswered Prayers'

Pittypat Moment

There's snow! Snow in Georgia!! Uncle Peter bring me my smelling salts.

Every time I've read that book I've tried to give Pittypat a sex life. I probably want her entangled romantically more than she ever did (if fictional characters can even 'want').

Frank Kennedy was one option. She and he always seemed better suited than Frank and Scarlett. (no one should be stuck with Sue Ellen)

The most scandalous choice was always Uncle Peter. That there was a reason for his devotion (other than that whole not having a choice thing). That he was an antebellum version of Sunset Blvd's Max. It certainly adds a new layer to the story.

Madam Andros needs a telephone

The V.I.Ps is one of the great trashy movies of all time. What makes it great is that it would never happen again. Wealthy people wander around an airport waiting for their trans Atlantic flight to be cleared because of fog.

Their commercial flight.

There are hot Stewardessi in tight stylish uniforms, women wearing updos and serious jewelry in the middle of the day, all the women are wearing fur (even the pooorer women have fur collars), and major plot points hinge on not being able to get to the phone that is carried from station to station and plugged in for the use of the airline's guests. Business deals are held up because the plane can't take off (no teleconferencing). And the passengers sit around the airport and talk as tension rachets higher: no TV stations, no Gameboys, no Ipods, no laptops. All they can do is talk to one another and say the things they avoid saying in their regular lives. And smoke. A lot.

If the movie were remade today there would be androgynous Flight Attendants, passengers would be wearing sweats and shoes that can be easily slipped off for bomb inspection, everyone would have enough technology to stay connected to the outside world and never interact with one another. And it would never happen because they'd all be at some place like PDK, ensconced in their private jets. Their private travel pods.

There are three main female characters. The adulterous wife of a mogul who is running off with her gigolo, a secretary who is in love with the boss who doesn't appreciate her devotion, and a dotty Duchess who has never flown and wears clothes because they're comfortable and you can get them wet. I've identified with all the characters at some point but as I age I get more like the dotty Duchess.

O Sailor

I'm undecided about you again

Mightn't be right that you're not here

It's double-sided, cause I ruined it all-

But also saved myself, by never believing you, Dear

Everything good, I deem too good to be true

Everything else is just a bore

Everything I have to look forward to

Has a pretty painful and very imposing before

I have too been playing with fifty-two cards-

Just cause I play so far from my vest

Whatever I've got, I've got no reason to guard

What could I do, but spend my best

after waiting, fighting patiently on my knees

All the other stuff tired itself out first, not me

And in its wake, appeared the touch and call

Of a different breed

One who set to get me wise, and got me there

And then, got me

And what a thing, to know what could be instead

Oh, what a blessed curse; to see

It took the agenda from its place in my bed

Made a merry paramour of me

O' Sailor, why'd you do it

What'd you do that for

Saying there's nothing to it

And then letting it go by the boards

O' sailor, why'd you do it

What'd you do that for

Giving me eyes to view it

As it goes by the boards

(Apple)

Just Passing Through

A neighbor came to me the other day and told me there was a dog who needed a home immediately or it would be killed.

I didn't want a new dog. I didn't need a new dog. I don't have time for a new dog.

But I couldn't let her get shot so I said I'd take her even if it might be temporary until she could find a permanent home.

Today, just as I was getting ready to leave, a message came across the Freecycle about a couple who had lost their dog and wondered if anyone had one like it available. The dog they had loved and lost was named 'Maggie'.

I spoke to the Daddy-to-be and I'm sure that she will be getting a loving home that is perfect for her.

Sometimes the universe works. Sometimes everything falls in place so the right things happen to the right people (and dogs). She's been a joy to have. A loving, cute, playful, fun little dog. But I'm thrilled to be sending her to the family where she belongs.

And it's really good, especially now, to have a reminder that things work out for the best.

I woke up early this morning around 4am

With the moon shining bright as headlights on the interstate

I pulled the covers over my head and tried to catch some sleep

But thoughts of us kept keeping me awake

Ever since you found yourself in someone else's arms

I've been tryin' my best to get along

But that's OK

There's nothing left to say, but

Take your records, take your freedom

Take your memories I don't need'em

Take your space and take your reasons

But you'll think of me

And take your cat and leave my sweater

'Cause we have nothing left to weather

In fact I'll feel a whole lot better

But you'll think of me, you'll think of me

I went out driving trying to clear my head

I tried to sweep out all the ruins that my emotions left

I guess I'm feeling just a little tired of this

And all the baggage that seems to still exist

It seems the only blessing I have left to my name

Is not knowing what we could have been

What we should have been

Someday I'm gonna run across your mind

Don't worry, I'll be fine

I'm gonna be alright

While you're sleeping with your pride

Wishing I could hold you tight

I'll be over you

And on with my life

So take your records, take your freedom

Take your memories I don't need'em

And take your cat and leave my sweater

'Cause we have nothing left to weather

In fact I'll feel a whole lot better

But you'll think of me

(Urban)

The Cheater's Bar

It is an old-fashioned kind of bar. Good wood, deep seats, leather, smoke, good scotch, and lots of Sinatra. Not the kind of place I would have chosen for a night out with the girls. Before I met him, it would not have occurred to me to come to a place like this. Margueritas and Nirvana were more my style. This has been going on so long there had still been a Nirvana when it started.

I learned to appreciate this place he chose for our meetings. The grain of the wood, sinking into the booths, the aromas of leather and smoke, and dancing to slow, old songs. In the early years I'd be thrilled when he would lean in and quietly sing along with “Me and Mrs. Jones”, singing only for me. We never believed we were fooling anyone. Everyone in the place knew why we were there and what it meant when we went upstairs in the middle of the afternoon. Why else would that bar with a jukebox full of cheating songs be in a hotel? And we weren't the only regulars.

The other couples never lasted. A few, very few, decided to try to build a life together and left the Cheater's Bar behind, a secret they'd try to hide from their families as they spent the rest of their lives with cover stories of just how and when they met. Some stories were so flimsy no one would ever believe them, other stories so good the tellers had missed their calling. The Witness Protection Program could have used their skills.

Most couples did not end happily. There had been some spectacular breakups, many in the bar. There would be tears and recriminations, a few came to blows, one ended when the girlfriend invited the wife to join them for drinks one afternoon. I guess she wanted to be remembered.

We all became friends, or maybe uneasy allies would be a better description. There aren't many people you can talk to about your married lover. You can't tell your regular girlfriends about the afternoons you spend away from your husband and children. So we girls in the bar would talk to one another.

After awhile I could see the breakups coming. There are phrases that are the red flags of an affair breakdown. “If he loved me he would want to be with me all the time.”, “If he loved me it would bother him that I'm going home to my husband.” Sentences that begin with 'If he loved me' must make cheating men shudder.

At the very end many of them would proclaim all married men cheaters and liars who were using us for their own selfish reasons and didn't care about us at all. Like union leaders spoiling for a strike they'd try to take the rest of us with them on their way out the door and when we didn't go the friendship would end because they had recovered their self respect and morality and were going and sinning no more.

A year was the average stay at the Cheater's Bar, some more, some less. Sexual attraction is supposed to wane after two years. Scientists say so. So why am I still here after twelve years? Why do I want him more now that I did the first two years? Especially when he wants me less.
Lately I find myself waiting for him. No woman should wait for a man in a place like this. It gives her too much time to think thoughts that begin 'If he loved me...'

I guess the reason I've stayed long enough to see not only my children but the bartender's children grow up is because I could never bring myself to say “I wasted X years of my life on that man! (another red flag phrase) I can't see it as a waste. I've loved having him in my life. He still makes me laugh. He still makes me think. If I died today the only thing I would regret is not having had enough time with him.

It's the continued life standing by a bar waiting for a man who may or may not come that is the problem.

Which is why I set down my drink, palm the room card, and go upstairs alone.

The One That Makes Your Eyes Light Up

I'm not a country music fan so I missed the appeal of Tim McGraw for a long time. I'd see him and his wife, Faith Hill, in pictures from red carpets and I just didn't get it. They were too pretty, too perfect, too unbelievable.

And then I saw them on Oprah.

Get him off a red carpet and have a camera follow him around being himself and you have a guy who's dead sexy. Non-scripted, country as all get out, semi-hopeless in a grocery store, thinks pan-fried hamburgers and bologney sandwiches are good eating, and doesn't have a grasp on cleaning up the kitchen after himself.

And he looks at his wife like she's fried chicken and he could eat her up.

Kind of scruffy, normal, and very believable.

Oprah said something profound (and as rare as that is these days it should be noted) people can say all the right words about how they love someone but you know how they really feel when you see their eyes light up when they talk about the other person.

We all need someone who makes our eyes light up. And to have someone who lights up when they think of us.

Throwing It All Away

So Lisa of the Starting Over House throws it all away for Mr. Internet. A man who has told her many times that he doesn't care about her, doesn't want to be with her, and that she should go on with her life elsewhere.

I often wonder what people really think, feel, mean. I probably stay in relationships too long because I don't know and I'm hoping for the best. But this guy straight out tells her and she still doesn't believe him or thinks she'll change his mind.

Or maybe it had nothing to do with Mr. Internet. Maybe he was just her latest escape hatch on the road to growing up.

Baby needs a Bodyguard

If Britney Spears is too ignorant to understand what an airbag will do to a baby, or what will happen to her child if he's crushed between her and a steering wheel, someone responsible needs to hire a bodyguard for the baby.

Would love...

...to have been a witness to this conversation.

"Mr. President, you have to go to Atlanta, walk into a room of 10,000 people, most of them hostile to you, sit on camera for three hours and thirty+ speakers, and take it."

Must not have gone over well. Wonder if that messenger got shot?

But he came, and so far he's sitting there and he's taking it. And is he getting it.

I hear the phrase 'The end of an era" too many times. It's an overused phrase. But what else fits the death of Coretta Scott King? It is the end of an era. There is no one else like her. Most of the Civil Rights warriors are gone. This is the last hurrah.

So shut up and take it, Mr. President while every contender for your throne milks this for every vote they can get, every leader that has felt ignored uses the platform to be heard, and former Presidents give a laundry list of their accomplishments. This is the downside of the job that gives you perks like Air Force One and being the most powerful man in the world. Sometimes you gotta be the most hated man in the room.

And smile.

All Carb Dieting

It's a good thing I like carbs because that's about the only thing I can eat.

Fruit? Check
Veggies? Check
Pasta? Check
Protein? Not easily.

I'm really wondering how to get protein on 6 ounces of meat a day. Good thing I like peanut butter.

Food is already changing from something to be enjoyed and savored to fuel.

What Kind of Soul?

***You Are a Retrospective Soul***
The most misunderstood of all the soul signs.

Sometimes you even have difficulty seeing yourself as who you are.You are intense and desire perfection in every facet of your life.You're best described as extremely idealistic, hardworking, and a survivor.

Great moments of insight and sensitivity come to you easily.But if you aren't careful, you'll ignore these moments and repeat past mistakes.

For you, it is difficult to seperate the past from the present.You will suceed once you overcome the disappoinments in life.

Souls you are most compatible with: Traveler Soul and Prophet Soul

What Kind of Soul Are You?http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofsoulareyouquiz/

Toxic Wasteland

This week I found out that my cholesterol levels were through the roof and I'd have to make massive changes in the way I ate. I have not been in a good mood since.

I have plenty to eat unfortunately none of it is what I really want. No more than 6 ounces of lean mean a day, no cheese, and every time I think of something that would taste good I read the label and find out I can't have it.

How has Brick reacted to all of this? He's eaten a big juicy cheeseburger in front of me, bitched about the fish I cooked for dinner last night, and sulked till we went out to a buffet for breakfast even though I told him the only thing I could eat there was fruit that I had at home and I wasn't settled into the diet enough to be around some of my favorites things and not be able to have them. When we got there he ate eggs, cheese, fried pork chops, and gravy and, as I ate my plate of fruit, repeatedly suggested that I have some bacon. He then insisted that he couldn't go grocery shopping across the street with me. It was too inconvenient for him to accompany me even though I just got bullied into going into a restaraunt with him when I couldn't eat. I was to take him home then drive back and do the shopping.

There's nothing like support at home to make starving to live longer seem really worthwhile.

"I'm going to become a Baptist!"

I love Oscar month on Turner Classic Movies. It's a chance to see movies that I can watch over and over again. The downside is days where I've seen every movie too many times already but somewhere out there is someone who enjoys seeing The Sands of Iwo Jima as much as I love Sunset Blvd.

The best thing is discovering new movies I may have never heard of before. One Foot in Heaven is on this morning and it's wonderful. It is the best illustration of a minister's life that I have ever seen. I am reminded of my Grandparents and their lives. It deals with the struggles and realities of parsonages, funding, obstinate church-members, raising children who are known as wild Preacher's Kids, gossip, looking 'nice' but not too nice, and how hard it is to maintain faith and perspective when serving as a Minister.

truth is, sometimes I miss you so bad I can hardly stand it

What do you do when there's just enough good to keep you holding on? When the part that's good is so incredible it usually makes the bad seem worthwhile? Do you ride it out? Do you stand it? When do you let go? When do you walk away?