Twinge

Every once in a while, especially lately, I'll feel a twinge.

An I-Miss-Colorado twinge.  I miss P a bunch, but I hadn't had too many Colorado-particular sads until lately.  The snow began falling there and threw me off my game.

As I'm sure you can guess, it's not snowing in Memphis.  It's cold at night, and all that. But it's just not the same thing. 

Don't get me wrong-- I'm enjoying being in Memphis.  I like that I was driving distance (a long drive, but driveable) to my family for Thanksgiving- the first I've spent with them since 2006. I like that my friends are all around, even if I don't actually SEE them.  I like that I will be here to help my bestie K plan her wedding.  I like my job, and my paycheck, and my day to day life. And my years in Colorado feel a bit like a dream or a vision of a past-life... I'm not sure it all actually happened, because it doesn't seem real.

But y'all.  I miss the snow. 

I was handling it, though, and doing fine. Until Dooce had to go and push me over the edge with her post today which highlighted the below video. 




[scattered flurries] from felt soul media on Vimeo.

Fall

So, I've been working. Hard. Harder than ever in my whole life. Which, granted, is not that high a bar to reach. The weird thing is, I kinda like it. What's up with that?

The flip side of this is that when the weekend rolls around I am WORN OUT.  Friday night I went out on an actual date, and so Saturday I was useless.  Keep in mind I still have boxes and boxes of STUFF that just arrived from Colorado and needs to be unpacked.  Did I unpack said boxes? Why no.  I did not. Well, I did unpack one or two. But mostly, I watched the week's worth of shows on the DVR and napped. And watched football. And snacked. And such. And then I watched (parts of) the Tigers' ass-whoopin by the Vols.

Sunday, I unpacked another box or two.  I figure if I do one or two a day, I might have them all done by the time my sister and niece come to visit (yay!) in a couple weeks.

Max and I did get out of the house for a lovely walk. It was truly a perfect fall day.

Tuckered

Well I have just been working my little delicate fingers to the bone!  My job is taking a lot of my energy and focus, in a way I haven't been willing to give to a job before.  I like my co-workers and for the first time in my career I feel really competent!  Which is strange because I've taken a break for a long time. I think the truth of it is I'm settled into myself, and I'm not worried about what people think about me, and I know what I know.  It's also a good thing that I'm crazy busy at work- it keeps me from being bored.

And I have a good excuse to go shopping for work clothes. I haven't bought lawyer clothes in a long time. :)

I'm moved into my own house now, it's the perfect size for me and my animal family.  It's very cute, and we're pleased with ourselves.

I don't have a lot to blog about, because everything is about work right now. But I'm happy, and now that I've got my feet underneath me, I'm going to be able to start getting out and about and paying at least a little attention to my social life. ;)

Hometown

One thing about moving back to your hometown-- it doesn't take long to feel, well, at home.  Every once in a while I crane my neck to see something newly built, or wonder about some building no longer standing.  But the streets are still the same, and I still can find my way around like I'm navigating the veins on the back of my hand.  It's home.  It's comfortable, familiar, and easy. 

In other news, I'm better in a courtroom, after years away, than I used to be.  I haven't been in full trial mode yet, but I've stood and spoken to a judge in a courtroom full of lawyers.  This was always the height of my fear... I don't mind making mistakes in front of judges, or even being scolded by them. But having it happen in front of other attorneys always skeered me.  Not anymore.  I finally thought about the worst case scenario. Honestly, what is the worst that could happen?  I could be slightly embarassed?  Boo hoo.  Compare that to what I've dealt with in the past few years and that's a freaking walk in the park.  And less fear = better performance.  Who'd have thunk it. 

I feel more comfortable, more calm, far more peaceful than I've felt in years. Maybe ever.  And it's not just being in Memphis.  It's something else... I don't know if it's from going to church or just how good it feels to stop banging your head against the wall, but damned if I don't just think life is pretty cool right now. I even managed to make it through multiple exchanges of email with my ex-husband without even once calling him a cheating, lying, liar who lies.  It's a new leaf, I tell you.

Scoop

Okay, so here's the story.

I was in Charlotte, working a contract attorney position, just fine. I was choosing between returning to Colorado and staying in Charlotte. I was leaning toward staying in Charlotte because the job was better and I liked being near my family. 

I had a very strong feeling that something was going to happen in Charlotte. I was going to church (which I haven't done regularly in years), I was hanging out with my family, dating, feeling good.  Then I got a call from a law firm in Memphis to which I had sent a resume back in March.  I talked to them, the firm sounded really cool, and it sparked my interest.  But then I didn't hear anything from them again.  Two weeks ago they called.  They wanted to interview me the next day.  The interview went pretty well, but I still wasn't sure about the job.  I thought Charlotte was where I was supposed to be at the moment.

So I talked to a friend of mine who happens to be a priest, because I didn't want to make the wrong decision. Only three days after the interview I got the offer, which was strong enough I felt like I was doing the right thing to accept it.  And I felt peace about it. So here I am, back home in Memphis.  I'm excited to be back to a "real" job, and thrilled with a real paycheck and real benefits... And it all feels right.  I was sad to leave my family in Charlotte, I would have liked to have something come along there, but I am confident this is a good thing.

I decided it would be wise, as a domestic litigation attorney, to keep my blogging private and anonymous. Don't need clients or opposing parties knowing my personal business. So Sadie rides again.  I can only imagine it will lend itself to all sorts of interesting blog posts. :)

I'm Back!

So I've decided to return to this blog. For professional reasons, I wanted to get back to blogging anonymously. I'll tell you why soon when I have more time, just wanted to get something posted and see if anybody was still out there...

So... You out there?

Need

Reposting from July 2010 ...

There’s a song I used to like by Faith Hill and Tim McGraw called “I Need You.” The lyrics:

I Need You/ Like a Needle Needs a vein/ Like my Uncle Joe in Oklahoma needs the rain/Like a lighthouse on the coast/Like the Father and the Son need the Holy Ghost/ I need you…

I saw them perform it live, all up in each other’s mushy shmoopie faces. It was intimate and romantic and I felt like I shouldn’t be watching. And I loved the song because it seemed like what love and marriage were supposed to be.

I did love that way. And even more fiercely. Desperately. I gave everything I had. I loved despite all reason. I set aside my self-respect for it. And I kept at arm’s length anyone that might have intervened on my behalf. I put my entire soul into my misguided attempt to salvage a relationship so toxic that it nearly cost me my very self.
And now? I’m angry about that. I’m pissed that I didn’t stand up for myself. I’m pissed that I ignored red flags. I’m pissed that I let things get to the point they did. I think about it a lot. I remember scenes from my marriage like episodes of a TV show watched too many times, replaying the lines by heart. Wishing I said something different. Done something different. Thrown something heavy at his head… Not that things would have resulted in any outcome other than the one we have. Except I guess if I threw something heavy at his head I might find myself rooming with Lindsey Lohan. But I digress.

I used to be romantic, idealistic, just full of butterflies and rainbows and sparkles and unicorns. Now I’m cynical and angry and just a touch bitter. I scoff at the sweet romantic hopes of those around me. I still go out on dates because I haven’t completely given up, but I certainly have entirely different expectations.
I will never give myself away again. I’m not capable of it, I’m too well guarded now. I know that this is more healthy. There is nary a knight in shining armor in my imagination now, and that’s for the better. But I’m sad to know what I know. I’m sad that that girl’s prince never came. I’m sad that I learned what I learned the way that I learned it.
 
It’s not that I wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then… It’s just unfortunate that I had to learn what I learned the way that I learned it. I know I’m in a better place now. But I’m still pissed about how I got here.

Drive, part 6- the last

Day Four on the Road was barely even mentionable.  For goodness sake I didn’t even leave til noon.  And then I had to stop at Chick Fil A.  I have been wanting Chick Fil A for MONTHS and I was not passing it by (the closes Chick Fil A to my apartment in Colorado is two hours away).  But I only had to get to Lebanon, Tennessee, but a hop, skip, a jump and three and a half hours away.  I did stop for a nap at a rest stop, which was when I realized that it was the first time in this whole production that I was sleepy on the road.  That’s unusual for me, I usually am sleepy a LOT when I’m driving.  Maybe it was the fear of plummeting to a fiery death, but I hadn’t had any trouble with drowsiness til that day.  Anyway. We all had a lovely nap and arrived in Lebanon around 4:30.  I stayed there two nights, saw some friends, drank yummy Wallaby Darns at Outback, and was finally ready to approach the finish line.

I should say that, had my trip been a week later, I would not have even made it to Lebanon.  The flooding closed down I-40 and has wreaked havoc in Nashville.  I am grateful that I was able to avoid consequences of the flood and my thoughts are with those who could not.

Day Five arrived and for the last time I corralled the two fat cats into their carrier, coaxed Max into the back seat, and took off for my final destination.  It was mostly a familiar drive, one I made from Memphis many times to visit my parents when they lived in Asheville.  Much of the drive went by in a blur of familiar and unrecognized, old and new (and one more trip to Chick Fil A).  And then I was here.

I’ve been here just over a week now (at the time of writing, not publishing), and this is the first time I’ve put my hands on the keyboard to do what I came here to do.  As if the weight of the decision to come here made actually approaching the task too difficult.  Or too important and therefore dangerous.  Or too real, and actually trying would make me vulnerable to failure.  But it’s always possible it was just laziness.

And I know I lived in it for 32 years, but people I must have blocked out the memory like a woman who inexplicably agrees to give birth a second time.  It’s HOT here. And humid.  My hair is freaking out about my choice of location, let me tell you. It’s much bigger, wavier (nearly curly), and stays cleaner longer.

I’ve gotten a job doing contract work so I can pay my bills, feed my pets, keep beer in the fridge and highlights in my hair.  Work was definitely be easier to come by here, and I will likely be able to take a bite out of my debt and bank some savings.

So.  As predicted, the drive did change my life.  But I suspect it will be a while before we know how, and to what end.

Drive, part 5

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it 

This brokenness inside me might start healing 

Out here it’s like I’m someone else 

I thought that maybe I could find myself… 

If I can walk around I swear I’ll leave 

Won’t take nothin but a memory 

From the house that built me  

-Miranda Lambert, “The House That Built Me”  

Day Three I awoke still tired but excited.  It was Memphis Day.  I hadn’t been home since I left three years ago, and I couldn’t wait.  I cranked up my playlist of Memphis-related tunes and hit the road again.

I also should confess that during the course of these three days I serially and spree-ly murdered ELEVENTY MILLION bugs with my windshield.  I got on Interstate 40 and I drove.  I would not be deterred. The interstate in eastern Oklahoma looks like the interstate in Tennessee… things were starting to look familiar. I was in Arkansas soon, and of course Arkansas is just right there across the river from Memphis, so it was like I was almost home, but then it takes like five hours to get across Arkansas, but I didn’t care because I was going home, and pretty soon it was Little Rock and I must have been flying, because I swear to God before I even knew it I was in West Memphis, and then there it was! The bridge. And the skyline.  And I was home.  It was home.

The very first thing I noticed was that Memphis has a lot of trees.  It’s not just Memphis, at all, because I notice it here in Charlotte too, but Memphis is where it hit me.  Colorado has trees, but it’s just not the same as big giant trees with their branches reaching out across the street to each other making a giant canopy under which you drive.  And everything was crazy green—I had left winter behind and found summer in a matter of days.

I drove past my last house and wished I could pull into the driveway and retake it.  I drove through my favorite neighborhoods, and the University, and the old gas station my friend and I used to call “the Cute Guy BP” because so many cuties worked there.  It’s a Shell now, and I did not find myself attracted to any of the employees.  By five o’clock I was pulling into my friend’s driveway—my earliest arrival of my three day journey.

Over the next three days I visited some of my favorite restaurants, listened to live music on Beale Street, ate a foot long corn dog, met a man who has driven a cab in Memphis for sixty years, was served breakfast by the same server that waited on us fifteen years ago on hungover college mornings, hugged lots of old friends, and laughed my ass off at old and new memories.  Some of which is a topic for its own essay, and much of which should not be published in a public forum.

Drive, part 4

From May 2010... 

Day Two arrived and I had rallied.  This would be the day.  Lots of flat, straight roads to be driven this day.  No fear of careening off a cliff to a firey death.

And by God if I didn’t get exactly what I wanted.  Highway 84 took me from I-25 to I-40, and it was perfection.  Straight for miles and miles.  An occasional passing pickup, but mostly I was out there alone.  It was, dare I say it, transformative and peaceful.  No major self-discovery in that forty mile stretch or anything, but I certainly felt renewed.

Until I hit I-40, and was forced to stop for gas at the most expensive gas station from here to Tarnation.  Or at least from here to Colorado.  And the spell was broken.  But I was hopeful.

As I headed toward Texas, I wasconsidering Route 66.  Lots of cool roadside stuff there, right?  Cheesy Americana was just what I needed.  I gave it a shot.
What I found were sad, boarded up businesses, slow speed limits, and lots of stop lights.  Although the lady that worked the drive through at McDonald’s was super nice and called me “Sweetie” when she handed me my Diet Coke.  Route 66 slowed me down and depressed me, but there were some things like the Cadillac Ranch that I wanted to see on the other side of Amarillo.

Determined to see something, ANYTHING, that could be called a roadside attraction I instead became one.  Before I even got to Amarillo, while changing lanes my rear passenger side tire blew out.  Fortunately I had no trouble pulling off onto the shoulder, and I thanked God repeatedly this happened in Texas with lovely cell phone service and no cliff from which to plummet.  Also fortunately, and thanks to an icy issue from two weeks prior, I had just joined AAA.  My GPS quite handily gave me my exact location to share with the AAA operator and the tire-changing man was on his way.

Also fortunately, for all of us, my spare tire is on the back of my car, and was not buried under everything I own.  I waited about an hour from blow out to the arrival of Randy, who changed my tire and told me how to get to a tire retailer.  I thanked him and was on my way again.


I didn’t want to buy a new tire.  My spare tire is a real tire, not a donut, and I didn’t want to spend the time and money to get a new tire.  I really really didn’t.  I texted my sister and asked if I really had to.  She said she didn’t know but thought I probably should.  I texted my roommate and asked her.  She wasn’t sure, but thought it would be a good idea.  I texted my best male friend and asked him.  Yes, he said. You need a new tire.  Dammit.

Fine.  I found the Discount Tire, bought one new tire and hung out in the waiting area for 45 minutes while they took care of things.  In amazement I listened to the Southern accents around me.  They sounded so strange and at the same time so familiar, like déjà vu, but not.  Foreign and, at the same time, like home.  I had that feeling a lot once I got to Memphis, but this was the first time I experienced it.  Max and the kitties hung out in the car without interest while the tires were changed, the air pressure checked, yada yada yada.  And finally, FINALLY!  We were on the road again.

Again.

Thanks be, the rest of Day Two was entirely uneventful.  But, instead of a six o’clock arrival at my hotel with plenty of time to relax, it was nine.  And when I got to the door of the room with the loaded down luggage cart, including cats, I could not locate the room key (found it today in my car.  Sorry LaQuinta).  Max and I had to go down the elevator (he was less than pleased), back to the front desk, request a second key, then back up the elevator (he peed a little I think) where I had left the cats (and all my stuff) on the luggage cart outside the room (nobody was gonna steal two twenty pound cats).

Continued...

Drive, part 3

My time in Colorado has toughened me to mountain driving. I’ve done Vail Pass and been forced to take Tennessee Pass in scary weather when the interstate was closed.  I’ve driven Independence Pass multiple times and don’t even get slightly anxious anymore. But Red Mountain Pass kicked my ass for some reason.  The heavily loaded car, the animal cargo, the lack of other cars on the road, nonexistent cell phone signal… any and all contributed to making me one giant stress ball incapable of fully enjoying the views.

When I finally got down on the other side I felt a huge weight off my shoulders, and disappointment.  It wasn’t supposed to be stressful!  It was supposed to be transformative and peaceful, dammit!
I kept going. I stopped for gas.  I passed through Durango.  Before I knew it I was in New Mexico.  I was sad as I crossed the state line and said goodbye to Colorado.  I plan to be back in the fall, but something felt final about that moment.  And not in a transformative peaceful way, either.

Much of the first part of my New Mexico drive was filled with stop lights and low speed limits.  This was not magical.  There was some beautiful scenery, but I was barely able to enjoy the magic because I was done of it.  I had wanted to stay off of interstates some (not that I had an option from Durango to Santa Fe), for solitude and more interesting scenery; I had found neither, really.  By the time I was on major highway I just wanted to be done.  I was done.  My eight hour drive was closer to ten at that point, and my shoulders were still up by my ears from the near-death drive over the pass.

Santa Fe, I have to say, was lovely.  I arrived as the sun was setting, and the pear trees were blooming there (they were not yet in Colorado, where it was still winter, and they have already passed in North Carolina, summer is here- Santa Fe was my Spring), and the breeze was perfect.  I loaded the cat carrier on a luggage cart (the carrier is more than 40 pounds, as each cat is at least 20), lured Max into the elevator (he hates elevators, but also refuses those outdoor stairs that are like grates), ordered a pizza, and got as much sleep as I could despite Merlin’s frequent meowing and Max’s bed-hogging.

Santa Fe, by the way, at 7000 feet, is the highest state capital in the country. Just some trivia for you.

Continued...

Drive, part 2

From May 2010...

Maybe 25 minutes out of my driveway, my car loaded with every piece of summer clothing and possible toiletry I own, along with my critters, I realized I had left the dog’s bowls behind. I had an extra, but it was on the floor in the back of my SUV when I loaded it up.  It wouldn’t have taken THAT much time to go back, but I had already said goodbye to the apartment, and I didn’t want to retrace those steps.  So I stopped at Wal-Mart.  Dog bowls purchased, I was again on my way.

Once on the interstate, I realized that my shiny, happy, new GPS needed to plug into my power outlet, duh, but so did my FM transmitter/iPhone charger.  And no way in harmonica am I gonna make it across the nation without my tunes.  So in Grand Junction (90 minutes after WalMart) I stopped at Best Buy (which I used my new GPS to find, thankyouverymuch) to purchase a power-splitter thingy.

After wandering the BestBuy and looking lost in front of multiple employees for ten minutes (remind me to write to Best Buy about that), I finally asked someone for help, found my needed item, and hit the road. Again.  Trying to find my way back onto the interstate, and without the ability to see much from my rear or passenger-side view mirrors (boxes and cat carriers, you know), I did have the ability to hear.  Which is good, because I might not have otherwise known that a motorcycle police officer was pulling me over.  I was apparently speeding my way out of Grand Junction, and this would not do.  I had missed a speed limit sign. Not that I was looking for it.

After commenting on the weight of one of my kitties (“that is one BIG cat”) and nicely enough cutting down my speed from 15 over to 9 over the limit, I received my ticket and we were on the road again.  Again.
It didn’t take long for me to realize that my phone charger thingy wasn’t having it.  For some reason it just wouldn’t work with the brand new splitter.  My detour through Junction and therefore my speeding ticket?  In vain.

Anyway, I didn’t care, I was off!  To new worlds!  Before long I found myself in the absolutely charming town of Ridgway, where I planned to eat lunch in the True Grit Café which is supposedly also very charming and my step-dad loves John Wayne, so that’d be cool and it’s my adventure and won’t it be fun!  Except I was only a tiny bit hungry.  And the two shopping stops and the speeding ticket had set me back on some time.  And I didn’t really want to leave the animals in the car alone while I ate lunch by myself.  So I didn’t.  I got back in the car after Max’s pit stop and pressed on.  First intended roadside attraction: scratched from the playbill.

I was on to a section of road between Ouray and Durango that is quite beautiful, Red Mountain Pass. It is phenomenally gorgeous.

And steep. And curvy. And without guard rails…

Continued...

Drive, part 1

From May 2010...

I planned this cross-country drive like I was Elizabeth Gilbert off to the ashram… It would be transformative, this drive.  It would show me things about myself I hadn’t noticed.  It would allow me to find peace within myself and ground me for the task ahead.  This drive?  It would CHANGE MY LIFE.

In case you're new here, let me first explain “the task ahead.”  I have been living in Colorado for three years.  It is indeed the most beautiful place I have seen and I have to believe among the most beautiful places in all creation.  It is also frakking expensive and I, a lapsed attorney, have a lawyer’s student loans but not her paycheck. So, when I recently decided that I am a writer and writers write and I needed to do that, my well-employed sister invited me to stay with her family in Charlotte, North Carolina for the summer, to focus on the writing.  I’d have to get a job to pay for my car other bills, and, you know, beer.  After my ski season job ended and no summer job in Colorado fell in my lap, I decided that was a dandy idea.  Thus, the reason for the drive.

Back to it, now.  I wanted to take my time. The drive from here to there could be done in 3 days, driving 10 hours each day.  I wanted to lollygag a bit.  See more of western Colorado.  Take my time, see the silly roadside attractions like giant balls of twine.  Stop when I wanted to stop, etc. I decided to swing west to Grand Junction, down to Durango, and over to the Grand Canyon. Then I would come east from there to my hometown of Memphis for a few days, and eventually straight up I-40 to North Carolina. But there were considerations.  Namely, Max, Dobby, and Merlin.  My dog and two cats would be traveling with me, and they aren’t all that into lollygagging.  Or the Grand Canyon.  So, while still on my bucket list, the Canyon was chopped from the list and the trip to Memphis shortened to 3 days instead of 4.  Then there were financials… and an extra night in a hotel suddenly seemed wasteful when I could just get to Memphis a day early and stay with a generous friend for free.

And there it was. The plan settled, three 8-hour-drive days: Day 1 to Santa Fe via Durango. Day 2 to Oklahoma City. Day 3 to Memphis.  The mountains of Colorado would be majestic and amazing. Take my breath away.  Remind me what I loved about my adopted state.  Make me feel small and inconsequential and give me perspective.  New Mexico would be magical, the desert beautiful.  Texas and Oklahoma would be wide open… prairies stretching for miles, nothing to see but road stretching out ahead of me, an invitation to the future.

And so I hit the road.

Continued...

Perfection

I'm reading Perfection by Julie Metz.

Metz had a picture-perfect life until her husband died suddenly.  Afterward, she learned he had cheated through much of their marriage.  I'm only a third of the way through this book, but it's already striking such a chord with me.

Her husband had Narcissistic Personality Disorder.  He had a constant need for attention.  "Do you still think I'm handsome?" he'd ask.  He sought other women to fulfill the requirement for admiration.  Entitled. Exploitative.  Non-empathetic. 

God, he's my ex-husband.

Never satisfied.  Feeling affront when his specialness goes unrecognized. Jealous of attention paid to pets or friends. Offended when not permitted his own way.  Hurt when taken to task for misdeeds.  Appalled by my lack of compassion when distressed after he fought with his mistress. Disappointed in my lack of forgiveness despite his telling "the truth." Unashamed of lie after lie told in service to his self-image.

It's so much easier to recognize in someone else's husband than it is your own.  Until you look back on it in amazement at your own blindness.

Why

Tell me again. Why am I doing this manitorium?

Is it to prove to myself that I CAN go 180 days without a guy?  Because I know I can.  I've done it before, I'll do it again, it's really not that difficult.  It does give me an excuse to go without a man.  "Sorry, guy I might have gone out with even though I'm not all that interested, I cannot date you, I am in the midst of a manitorium."  However, it's not like this happens a lot.  I can think of exactly twice so far. 

P likes to lecture me on how all I do is obsess about guys and that's why I'm doing this experiment.  Really? Cause, hello, I can still obsess like a champ.  Doesn't take an actual date with a guy to start my mind rolling.  Just because I'm not going to go out with that Hottie doesn't mean I'm not going to think about going out with him.

You know what? I miss kissing. A lot. I like kissing.

You know what else?  This manitorium has become an excuse for me not to put on makeup, do my hair, or care what I'm wearing.    This is nice on occasion, but it also leads to me, in full awareness of my less-than-gorgeousness, feeling less than gorgeous.  Which doesn't BUILD self-esteem at all. 

It does give me time, I suppose.  Time to read. Time to write. Time to watch too much television.  Time to eat Thin Mints. As opposed to what, though? All the sex I'd be having if I weren't doing the manitorium? Yeah, right.  You know what I'd be doing if I weren't on this manitorium?  Reading. Writing. Watching television. And eating Thin Mints.

It'd be nice to think that I'm not dating right now by my own choice, but I honestly would likely not be dating much if I were not doing this.  If anything, it would be occasional.  The only guy that I've met that I would actually have been really interested in is dating someone, so I wouldn't have gone after him anyway. 

I think this manitorium is turning out to be just a fancy word for "dry spell."

Nothing

Nothing. Nothing to blog about. Nothing is happening.

You know, I had an idea I'd write a book about the manitorium.  However, 42 days in, I have to say there would not be much to write.  No major self discovery.  No epiphany.  No aha moment.  Not really.  I know I should wait til the whole thing is over before I give up completely, but the first sixth of experiment has been less than exciting. And I've not had too much trouble, unlike 360, who has been asked out 8 million times since she swore off men.  Bitch. ;)

Speaking of the lovely and talented 360, she will be here TOMORROW.  I can't wait to take her out in Aspen and watch her bat the men folk away with a stick. :)

I'm recovering from some sort of sickness that presented itself as bronchitis, then flu, then sinusitis.  Whatever it was, I'm feeling so much better today.  Not 100% yet, but you know how when you feel really really ill, there comes that moment when you feel just well enough to be happy to be alive again?  And you can move your body without being in pain?  And you can take a deep breath without collapsing in a coughing fit? And you can blow your nose without needing to do so again in three seconds? And you just feel SO GOOD?  Yeah, I'm there.  It's awesome.  My throat is still sore and I sound very much like an old smoker, but I can deal with it.

Games

X Games has come and gone again.

This week I worked my normal job (reminder: on-mountain retail store) then worked evenings at a bar.  The bar was in the hotel where ESPN staffers and athletes stay, right at the base of the mountain where the competition takes place.  It was pretty cool...

Guess what?  I love bartending.  Love. It.

Anyway, I got to do all the flirting I've been holding in since the beginning of the man-itorium, I met some cool people (one of whom may come to be mentioned again, in oh, 147 days- if I make it that long) and I made major money.

I served Gretchen Bleiler and Lindsey Jacobellis (both won gold) drinks. They're purty.

In other news, my friend 360 is coming to visit me!!! We have not seen each other since summer camp in 1992.  And then we didn't communicate for like 16 years.  And then we became FB friends. And now we're total besties AND SHE'S COMING TO VISIT ME.  We're going to spend Valentine's Day together in our man-itorium solidarity...

Challenging

I am already seriously faltering with the Man-torium, and it's only Day 23 out of 180.  This whole idea goes against my nature so completely. Of course, that's why I need to do it.  But I do. Not. Like it.

A few months ago, T mentioned to me a guy he worked with as a potential date. I didn't bother to meet him for two reasons.  1) I didn't really think T would know me well enough to suggest an actual good match, and 2) He has the same first name as my first husband, which was just weird. 

So the other day I met him, not through T, just through coincidence.  And oh my.  He's cute. He's tall. He's really nice.  And immediately I began the thought process... how can I see him again? When does T work with him next to start planting seeds of how awesome I am?  Should I call him?  He was mildly flirtatious when we met, is that just how he is with people or did he like me? Was that he who called my phone but didn't leave a message? Blah, blah, blah, fishcakes.

P, under the defense of "helping me with my own goal," said that this is why I need to do the man-itorium (she's correct, of course), and got a chance to vocalize all the things about the "way I get" that get on her nerves.  She is my opposite, and because the way she gets doesn't come close to matching with the way I get, she doesn't understand at all.  For example, every guy that I have dated since I was about 19, I have imagined marrying. Honestly.  I didn't plan weddings or name children or buy bride magazines, but I always picture what it would be like to be married to that person.  With EVERY GUY I'VE DATED, or even thought about dating.  She has only, ever, imagined marrying T.  She's had a few long term relationships, but she never got to that point.  My pattern is unfathomable to her. And apparently irritating. I know she has my best interest at heart, but I'd like to see her give up sex for six months...

If this guy asks me out (a big if, because he's dating someone. Not seriously, but still), I know good and well that I will say yes.  But I'm trying not to pursue him.

And I'm running out of synonyms for "difficult" to be post titles.  I have a feeling I'm going to need a lot more of them...

Gay

You know what makes it easy to stop thinking about all my attractive male customers as possible dates?

No, it's not my Man-itorium.

It's Gay Ski Week.

Bored

Oh my sweet Lord, I am bored.

I go to work (which is slow right now and therefore boring, but I am getting lots of reading done). I come home. I watch TV, I read, I go to sleep. Repeat x 5, then insert 2 days of napping and more TV and reading.

Bored.

Due to the boredom, I have started hitting the library pretty hard which is nice. In the past few weeks I've read Dooce's book, part of a book about WWI (couldn't finish it), The Lovely Bones, one about Catherine the Great, Remember Me? (chick lit), and am now working on Infinite Possibilities, by the guy that writes the Notes from the Universe (in my sidebar). I love that I can find a book through the online catalog at any library in the region and they will deliver it to my library for me to pick up. I have quite a list of books in my phone that I want to read. If you have any suggestions, please leave them for me!

Last week I started two exercise classes, one is yoga and one is core strength/stretching, each one day a week. They're both really good and I enjoy them, and I truly need them-- especially the core strength. But still it's not all that exciting. I'm hoping the classes will inspire me to exercise on the other five days of the week, at least do my yoga DVD at home that is not very taxing and only 20 minutes. For heaven's sake, I have a Wii Fit that doesn't get much use (this is because it's not a group activity and I'm not often alone). And an exercise bike. And a trip to Vegas in forty-four days for which I would like to lose some weight so I can wear my flirty cocktail dresses. Even though I can't flirt in them.

But this weekend is a big one-- I'm going to watch as many episodes from last season's LOST as I can, in preparation for the new season that starts on February 2. It might take a while, because every time Sawyer is shirtless I have to rewind and watch it at least thrice.

I know. I'm wild and crazy. Don't look now, but I might also clean my closet. I know, too much, right?

Uneventful

So last Sunday was a difficult day for me. I went skiing with P and ran into a guy that I have been attracted to for a while. We barely know each other, but it took everything I have not to shamelessly flirt with him. It even crossed my mind to invite him to Denver with us (me, P and Todd) the next day to car shop for P. I didn't. But I wanted to. And not only that, but everywhere I looked there was another good looking man at whom I wanted to bat my eyelashes. It was a rough day.

However, other than that day? Not too much has been happening. I'm still noticing the cuties, I'm still checking left ring fingers. But I'm trying not to notice whether they notice me. It takes a lot of pressure off me to know that whether they ask me out or not, I can't go. So I don't have to TRY to make them ask me out. It's a little liberating. But not completely quite yet, I still have to remind myself of it. But it's only day 15...

There is a trip to Vegas looming. We're going in March for P's birthday... Fortunately, there will be other single women traveling with us so I won't feel like the odd woman out. But Vegas? With no flirting? Really? Sigh.

Trouble

Dear Cute Guy on the bus that is staring at me: please stop staring.
Or being cute. This man-itorium ain't easy.

Chemistry

The other day I mentioned a man with whom I had more chemistry than should be possible.

He worked at the golf club with me, as a fishing guide. P mentioned him to me first, as he worked in the same department as her boyfriend Todd. She referred to him as "the hot fishing guide." At that point I had not noticed him, and looking back I don't know how that's possible, because he insists we had seen each other before.

One day I was riding in a golf cart down to my car, when he passed the other direction in a cart of his own. The woman with whom I was riding waved to him (she worked with him and Todd). I asked her his name, and she told me it was Jake.

That night I was home, doing nothing exciting, when P called from the bar where she worked a second job and asked me to come visit. It was slow and she was bored. Seeing as I'm not the type of girl to turn down an opportunity for nachos, I obliged. Sitting at the bar, eating my nachos, watching ESPN, I was totally in my own world when I heard someone call my name.

I glanced over and saw two guys sitting together at a table. The one that had called out to me looked vaguely familiar, but I knew he also worked at the club. He knew my name, but I couldn't remember his. He invited me to join them and so I did. I sat down across from the other man, and that's when I realized it was Jake. And "hot fishing guide" is an understatement.

I still cannot quite figure out what it was about his eyes, but they were piercing. His naturally olive skin tanned from all the fishing, his perfectly straight teeth sparkled when he smiled. His smile... was amazing. And turned my entire body to jello. And his curls. Oh sweet Lord, his dark curly hair.

He loved my Southern accent, which immediately intensified. P and Todd joined us, and the original guy who knew me left. We talked at that table for hours, with him looking into my eyes while the conversation was happening around us.

I can't say I'm exactly sure how he ended up following me home that night. I do remember crashing my ex-husband's truck into a low brick wall in the parking lot because I was driving, with no lights on, while texting P frantically that he was coming home with me. And that was that.

We spent the summer having phone conversations for hours (and I HATE the phone, I truly do), laughing, and (apologies to my Mom and sister) ripping each other's clothes off. We couldn't keep our hands off each other.

My ex and I had JUST split, and he had just broken up with a long-term girlfriend. We didn't plan the future. We didn't call each other boyfriend and girlfriend. In fact, at work, we didn't expose our relationship, although it didn't take long for everyone to know it. It was enough for someone to see the smile on my face when he walked past my desk, much less if he had time to stop and talk. He took me fishing. I watched him tie flies for hours. He cooked me dinner. I helped him plan his own shop.

He loves to fish. More than I love doing ANYTHING. I was so envious of that- his complete and secure knowledge of what he was born to do. Watching him teach people to fish was endearing, and watching him wrestle a huge trout of the river was oddly, unbelievably, sexy. But watching someone do something they love to do, and something they do very well... that's hot, right? Anyway.

Jake was hot. He made me feel hot. It was, in a word, hot.

And then the summer ended, and I knew he would be leaving. He spends the winter in another place. We didn't discuss what would happen. And he was gone.

We talked on the phone, we texted... and then it faded away. I hadn't heard from him in about a month when a co-worker mentioned to me that he'd received an invitation to Jake's wedding.

He had reunited with the old girlfriend and they had decided to immediately get married (and are now expecting a baby). He came to town and told me himself a week later. A friend that attended the wedding gave me all the details, and though I did not expect to, I cried. We've tried to be friends since, he was back this summer. It just doesn't work. I can't do it. I can't be in his physical presence without wanting to touch him. And our conversations tend to turn to reminiscing into old times, which is not something I want to talk about with him...

So that's that. That chapter is closed. But now, I'm dangerous. I know that type of chemistry is out there. And I will find it again.

Five

It's Day Five of my Man-itorium. And it's easy. So far.

I am still checking ring fingers... then I remind myself that I don't care. I see a cute guy smiling at me and still reach up to straighten my bangs before I remember that I don't care. I thought about wearing my cuter, but less comfortable boots this morning... then I thought about how I don't care. I can dress warmly to ski with less concern about looking like the Pillsbury Dough Boy because, you guessed it, I don't care! A nice looking guy just struck up a conversation with me while I was getting a drink at work... and I chatted. But I didn't care.

Okay, I totally did care, but I'm telling myself I shouldn't. I might still look him up in my computer to see how old he is and where he's from (he's a fellow employee). But I swear, then I will proceed to not care.

No major revelations or self-discoveries so far. But I do have 175 days to go.

P.S. He's 27. :)