The "Freebie List"

"Rachel: Alright, let me see. Uma Thurman, Winona Ryder, Elizabeth Hurely, Michelle Pfieffer, and... Dorothy Hammill?
Ross: Hey, it's my list.
Rachel: Okay, honey, you do realize she only spins like that on ice."

A few nights ago, J and I were watching old Friends reruns. Funny how, at the time, they were so super cool. But looking back?  I can't believe I ever wanted to dress like Rachel or have Monica's short black hair.  

I digress.

So it was the "Freebie List" episode, where they all consider what five celebrities would be on their "freebie list" ~  five people they can sleep with without anyone getting upset.  And remember?  Ross finally gets his list finalized by eliminating Isabella Rossellini... then he bumps into her. Classic.

J and I got to talking about who would be on our lists. J's included Anne Hathaway, Jessica Biel, Jennifer Aniston, Jessica Simpson and Eva Mendes. It was almost scary how fast he came up with his list.

Let me tell you, it was freakin' hard to decide for mine. I kept putting someone on my list. Taking them off. Switching them out for someone else. Putting them back on.  But I finally got it narrowed down:  Jason Whitten, Adam Sandler, David Boreanaz, Leonardo DiCaprio and, of course, Brad Pitt.

"Adam Sandler?  Really?" remarked J. "Wow, that makes me feel better."

"Why?"

"Because he's a goofy bastard, like me."


I didn't even ask if I was supposed to feel worse because none of the girls he chose are remotely close to me. Except maybe Anne Hathaway -- we have the same color hair. And I'm sure she has 10 toes?

Blame It on the Beer

"Every path hath a puddle." ~ George Herbert, 'Jacula Prudentum'

Yesterday I met my girl Goldie for drinks at our usual spot in town. She and I get along very well, but it's a rare treat to get to hang out with her without the spouses around. We talked for hours over cold beer and pizza, watching the sun set as our happy hour turned into an all-nighter. It was nice to finally open up to her, and I could tell she felt the same way. We chatted about everything, from old boyfriends to current inlaws, and never skipped a beat.

I was in a slightly reminiscent -- and slightly intoxicated -- state when we finally left. Driving down the toll road, my mind began to wander back through our conversations, back to when we were swapping old boyfriend stories. I don't know if it was the song on the radio, my restless feelings for new adventures or the beer, but I had the sudden urge to reach out to an old friend / boyfriend of mine from years ago.

I met Getty through my sister before I graduated highschool. Long story short, we were fast friends, then dated, and when it didn't work out we became best friends. On occasion, when we'd both find ourselves single, our friendship went to the next level. To me, he's always been a part of my life as a dear friend. In his eyes, however, it was always soo much more. I guess I always knew that, just refused to see it. Getty always thought he and I would end up married, and has never approved of my boyfriends, especially J.

J and Getty don't really get along. Which is one reason Getty and I haven't really talked since I got married three years ago. The other reason being J knowing his feelings for me -- and I can totally understand why he's uncomfortable with that.

I ran into Getty at a ballgame early last year, and it was honestly nice to see him. And that was the last time I'd talked to him. Until last night.

I quickly texted a simple "I miss you". I just wanted him to know that I still think about him and hope he's doing well. As a friend. I didn't expect a reply.

Later, as I was getting ready for bed, I noticed I had a new text. "I miss u too, Iz. Can I call u tomorrow?"

Dang it. Can open, worms everywhere. I should have known a simple text wouldn't be enough. But what's the harm in one phone call, right?

Breaking the Silence

"Communication leads to community, that is, to understanding, intimacy and mutual valuing." ~ Rollo May

Thanks to those of you who offered up advice and encouragement to help me through my funk. J had been overly sweet this week, so I had decided to wait until after Thanksgiving to approach the subject. Surprisingly, J beat me to it.

Friday was a cold, rainy day, so J skipped golf with his cousins to spend the day at home with me. As I was walking through our bedroom with a stack of clean laundry, he pulled me down onto the bed, where we lay silently curled up for half an hour before he spoke.

"Do you still love me?" he asked softly.

"Of course I do," I answered, knowing this was the beginning of a long conversation. We were in the spoon position, and I was glad that he couldn't see my face. "Why would you even ask?"

J paused for a minute before saying that he felt like things were tense the last few weeks, that it felt like we were strangers living in the same house. I shrugged it off, but he pressed on. Turns out he'd been feeling a little out of place lately too, thinking maybe I was losing interest in him or that I wasn't attracted to him anymore. J even admitted to doing extra push ups at night. I forget that guys can get self-conscious too.

It feels like the last three weeks have flown by, with me training at night and on the weekend, staying late at the office to help our new admin, both of us having family gatherings to attend, me getting sick this week. Add to that my funk, and I guess we haven't spent that much time together lately. And I was glad to know that I wasn't the only one feeling like we were living on separate planets.

I came clean about my feelings that Saturday night at Gilleys too, and I realized if I had just said something sooner it would have saved us a lot of tense moments. I assured him it had nothing to do with trust; J assured me that if there was anyone in this world that he would want to dance with, it was me.

We talked for another hour or so -- about things we were feeling, about the future, about randomness -- before falling asleep in each others' arms.

When we awoke, things felt back to normal. I sometimes forget how important communication is in any relationship, especially in a marriage. In an effort to avoid nagging or beating a dead horse, I sometimes become a closed book. Luckily, J's learned that a little snuggling and a lot of patience goes a long way in getting me to open up.

The Funk

"Doubt is not a pleasant condition ..." -- Voltaire

Is this week over yet? Not to be Debbie Downer or anything, guess I'm just in a little funk and I've been trying to pinpoint the source. The lines are blurry, but I keep tracing it back to last Saturday night.

After much stalling from J, we met at my friend Minxy's casa in Uptown for drinks before heading out to Gilley's, a poor excuse for a country bar but great for people watching and making fools of ourselves. My old boss Jim* and his wife Pam joined us too. It was a little awkward at first because, even though Minxy, Jim and I were inseparable when we worked together, I was always on my best behavior.

So, I was a little worried about how the night would go, but the more I drank (and the more he drank) the less awkward it became and the more Pam threw dirty looks at everyone involved*. But Minxy and I played nice, involving Pam everywhere we went, spinning her around the dance floor, getting our pictures taken on the mechanical bull while J, Jim and Pabs (Minxy's fiance) threw back beers and look relieved to get some time away from us.

After the band finished, the "country" bar turned into a "white people can't dance" smorgasbord and Minxy and I got our groove on. Jim and Pam were even dancing, while J and Pabs stood at the edge of the wooden dance floor, shuffling their feet and looking for the exit. After much beckoning on our parts, they shuffled to the middle of the dance floor, where Minxy and I made our best attempt at involving them in our charades.

Pabs gave in, but J did not. I pleaded with him, did my irresistible booty shake, had Minxy do her booty shake, but to no avail. J stood there watching me for awhile, and I made one last attempt to get him to loosen up. He shoved his hands in his pockets, took a step back, and simply said in a tone I haven't heard in a long time, "I can't dance with you." It broke my heart. Not because he can't dance, but because he wouldn't try. I looked around at Jim and Pam, who were doing a strange variation of the robot and laughing. I glanced at Minxy, who had convinced Pabs to twirl her around the now nearly empty dance floor. And then I looked at J, his hands in his pockets, just staring at me like we were in two separate worlds. With a dagger in my heart, I danced by myself.

It's in moments like those where I realize just how different we are. And beyond that, it's moments like that where darkness from the past comes flooding back like a tidal wave of emotion.

Before we were married, J and I were broken up for awhile. And before we broke up, we were in a strange place for months. Not quite broken up, not quite separated. Not dating anyone, but not sure we could make it work. It was a weird time, full of strange emotions. Both of us probably said things to others that we shouldn't have.

After J and I got back together and engaged, I ran across an e-mail from him to one of his co-workers in a different town. Apparently, they had met at a business meeting in Dallas and had kept in touch. In this e-mail, it was evident that there was something between them. And, the one line that popped into my head Saturday night, was a line J had responded to her e-mail with: "Thanks for the dance -- there's no one worth dancing with back home."

I remember sitting there that night I found it, trying to make sense of it in my mind, at first thinking this was something that happened after we had split, which would be none of my business. But the e-mail was dated May, and we had split at the end of June of that year. I remember feeling my heart race, I remember the tears splashing down my hot cheeks. I remember J waking up and wondering why I hadn't come to bed yet. I remember being so sick to my stomach, shaking, not wanting him to touch me. J had tried to explain that it was nothing, that it was the night he and his co-workers had gone to a local bar. I remember that night, because he had called me from the cab asking me to meet him there. It was late, I was in my pjs, and he was with all of his co-workers so I declined, not wanting to be the spouse that stalks him at business meetings. At the time he seemed fine with it. But, the night I found the e-mail, J admitted that he had been mad that I didn't go. Which infuriated me even more. Because you're mad, you flirted with another woman? He promised nothing else had happened, and I believe him. The e-mails alone were piercing enough.

It just never made sense to me, but at some point I got over it, placing the past back in the past. I actually hadn't even thought about it until Saturday night. And now I can't get away from it. I know J and I aren't always on the same page, or even the same planet. But it seems to be happening more frequently lately. I just wish I could forget the little things like that e-mail, or ignore the odd sense of feeling like strangers. I know we come from different backgrounds. Most of the time I enjoy that, because I've been able to learn and experience new things. I just wish he felt the same way.

I haven't talked to him about it and not sure that I should. But he knows something's wrong -- I just keep blaming it on the stress at work. Even Minxy sensed something that night, but I didn't feel like ruining the moment. I know this post is long and may not even make sense, but it has just been whirling through my mind for a week now. I'm just afraid if I mention it to J, he'll feel like I'm insecure about our future or something.

I'm not. But is he?


*He reminds me of Jim from The Office -- Adorable, funny and strangely magnetic.
*Jim and Minxy still work in the same office, and Pam is a little (read: enormously) intimidated by their friendship.

The Highschool Years

“High School: the mouse race to prepare you for the rat race.” ~ Unknown

I was tagged by Miss Caught Up to tell the story of my teenage years, something I really haven't thought about too much lately. So I'll give it a shot.

Highschool was an awkward time for me. My parents were ultra-conservative, my sister didn't pave the way like I thought she should have, so I was the so-called rebellious one. But, that mostly came after highschool.

Anyhoo. When I was a freshman, my sister was a senior at the same school. I was on the dance team. My favorite class was art. We had bomb threats almost every week. I was in all honors and AP classes. I made my first C ever. I played street hockey everyday after school with my sister and her friends. I fell in love with a boy I saw on the stairs the first day of my freshman year, who turned out to be in love with my best friend. I'll call him Tag. I learned that people can change, but not always for the better.

My sophomore year brought much of the same. Still played street hockey everyday after school, developing a crush on Goalie, a boy we played with. Still was a book nerd. Had long hair down to my waist. Danced. Volunteered at the nearby nature center. Still madly in love with Tag. Became tired of girls, thanks to the drama that was our dance team.

Junior year was a bit more complicated. My best friend and Tag broke up the summer before. He asked me out on a date, and I said "yes". He was the only guy my mom officially let me date during my entire highschool years. My best friend said she didn't mind, but I shouldn't have done it anyway. Tag and I dated on and off, but mostly off. I fell in love with Goalie, but he had a girl that profusely hated me. He and I became the best of friends. I still danced. I was inducted into the Honor Society. I developed a crush on Leo, a blue-eyed boy who swam with my best friend.

And senior year was complicated still. I was one of four Lieutenants on the dance team. I was going through EMT Training -- I truly believe there are some things 17 year olds should never see, bloody messes being one of them. My grades began to slip after mom said that no, I wouldn't be headed off to the college of my dreams but rather I'd be headed to the local junior college for two years first. With my sister. Who never tried at school. Leo got caught sneaking in my room -- which sounds terrible and R-rated, but we honestly just listened to music and talked. Okay, and made out. But whatever, we were banned from ever seeing each other again, creating a sort of "Romeo & Juliet" story for us which still lingers today. I joined the rugby team but told my parents I was just going to dance practice. I had to quit when they found out the truth. Goalie joined the Air Force and moved to New Mexico, where we finally realized we were more than just best friends. We talked on the phone constantly. Wrote letters (yes, real letters with stamps and everything). When he came home for Christmas, we went on our first official date. But it didn't take long for that relationship to fizzle as the longer he was in the Air Force, the more different he became. I graduated with honors, but my parents were a little disappointed when I wasn't in the top ten percent (I was in like the top twelve ... out of 600 kids).

Summer after highschool was spent playing roller hockey and working out at the gym where my sister worked. Over the next two years I met new boys, discovered alcohol, re-kindled my love for school and all things nerdy, stayed in and out of trouble, and eventually found my way to a four year college.

It's weird to take a look back, to feel some of the same emotions once again. It's interesting to note that in highschool I never really cared what boys thought. It was easy to say "no", to ditch the jerks, to avoid all the things that parents worry about (which my parents thought I was doing anyway). It was later, in college, that all of that went down the drain. But, I'll save that for a rainy day.

That's my story in a nutshell. I'd love to hear all of your stories -- so if you'd like to share, then I tag you!

Dear Dell (An Open Letter to My Laptop)

Dear Dell,

I hope this letter finds you relaxed and in a happy place, because what I'm about to say may hurt you deeply. I've been thinking about having an affair. Well, I suppose it's not really an affair if you know about it. So, let's just call it what it is -- I'm leaving you for someone else. Who you ask? Not to sound like a complete slut, but I haven't exactly decided yet. I'm still trying out my options, although your buddy Mac is quite charming.

Calm down, Dell. You've had it coming. You're lazy. You sit on my desk all day, longing for me to use you. And when I do? You give me the cold shoulder. Or, you tease me with your fancy Vista software, only to finish first and completely crash before I can save what I've done. I need to feel satisfied too, you know!

And now ... now you won't even print. Are you mad at me? How am I supposed to accomplish anything if you won't stay connected to the Internet, or download cool and unnecessary applications or -- shocker -- print, for God's sake?!

You're too young to act soo old. You never want to stay up late, you hesitate when I want to serenade you with iTunes, you shudder at YouTube videos. I need someone who likes to have fun. I need to know that the time and money I invested in you was worth it. I need to see something else besides the Blue Screen o' Death.

I'm sorry, Dell. As much as you want to be like Mac, you aren't. And that's okay. There are people out there who will love you for who you are, like the Excel nerd in the cubicle next to mine. The last two years have had it's ups and downs ... let's not drag this out any further. Don't worry about me, Dell, I'll be okay.


Best,
Me!


P.S. I'll be back to collect my pictures and music ... you can keep the spreadsheets.

Home Alone

"Love is missing someone whenever you're apart, but somehow feeling warm inside because you're close in heart." ~ Kay Knudsen


This morning J left for a work trip to Arkansas and won't be back until Thursday. I'm always kind of bummed when he leaves ... and this is the first time he's left me in the new house alone. Not that I'm a big weenie (read: I am a HUGE weenie), but I'm starting to regret watching all of those Ghost Hunters episodes. Every time J's out of town, I end up sleeping on the couch with all of the lights on, the television blaring, my hockey stick within arm's length and my phone in my hand ... just incase.

I also have a problem properly feeding myself when J is gone. When I got home, I gorged on German chocolate cake and tortilla chips while watching Biggest Loser. Talk about a guilt trip. What's sad is that, as I was wiping cake crumbs off my face in the kitchen, I thought the stove was going to get me. I swear the digital panel was glaring "BOO" at me. After a minor stroke, I realized it was actually the clock showing 8:00. Get a grip, woman!

I decided my pjs would make me feel better. As I pulled on some cotton sweats and a Dallas Cowboys hoodie, I noticed something on my pillow. It was a sweet note from J and a little flashlight that he had left for me, just in case I got scared tonight. If only he knew how much that small gesture comforted me.

It's amazing how it's always the small things that truly make marriage work and nights apart less daunting.

Raw Fish and Cougars

"I never eat sushi. I have trouble eating things that are merely unconscious." — George Carlin

Hubby and I returned from a week in Colorado three days ago -- I'll post a few pictures soon as it was one of the more beautiful trips I've taken there.

We spent the weekend at hubby's work "retreat". We usually get to go to a relaxing resort in Austin, which is nice since it's five hours from home so it feels like a vacation. But, this year, his manager had them stick close to home (read: a hotel 15 minutes from our house). It was fun getting to meet some of the new people in his region. I usually cringe when it comes to forced small talk, but I think we all found we were very much alike.

We dined at a couple of great places including Ra'. I was skeptical because it's mostly sushi (if I wanted to eat raw fish, I'd take a bite out of the ones I catch when I go fishing). As the huge dishes of raw tuna, rolls and such were placed before us, I wondered just how many sea creatures were being consumed by the 17 people at the table. But the place did have great music and a swanky / funky atmosphere ... and fabulous chicken teriyaki. Oh, and the sake bombs weren't bad either *wink wink*.

The "cougars" were out in full force that night at Ra' -- minimally dressed in designer tops and skin-tight jeans, glowing with fake tans and golden highlights. These women prowled around the place, trolling for a delicious snack in the crowd around the bar. It was interesting to watch these women who, from the back, looked my age or younger. One look at their fronts, however, revealed more than good plastic surgery -- some of these women were old enough to be my mother. They were everywhere, including the bar we went to after dinner. I let go of hubby for two seconds on the dance floor, and he was pounced on by a feisty blonde twice his age. Creepy.

What happened to meeting people at coffee shops, or bumping into someone at the book store who happens to be holding the exact same copy of your favorite author's latest creation?

Two Years & Counting ...

Today is our two-year wedding anniversary -- I can't believe how fast it's rolled around! Hubby woke up at the crack of dawn this morning and brought me donuts (chocolate sprinkled -- my fav!) and a rose. Still a sweetie after all this time.

We don't have big plans for tonight as we're headed to Colorado to celebrate later in August. We got married in Wild Basin, outside of Estes Park, so we thought it would be fun to go back. Besides, we've both been slammed by work here recently, and looking forward to getting away for a week.

A few pics from our last trip:

Floundering

I preface this blog with this statement: I love my hubby. Without question.

I heard through the grapevine today that an old flame of mine is leaving for a 7-month tour in the military. I won't get into too many specifics to help protect all involved. What it boils down to is that when I heard the news, my stomach began to churn. It's still in knots, hours later. I've tried to convince myself that they're knots of concern, but I'm floundering in a sea of doubt.

Right now I sit before this computer, listening to the sound of rolling thunder. Hubby is working on his computer in the other room. And I sit here. Alone. Wondering what the hell is wrong with me. I cannot be having these thoughts. And yet I wonder if he ever thinks about me ...

It would have never worked out for the long run. I am happy with my life and marriage. But good byes were left unsaid, and if something were to happen ...

A Lot of Nothing

Sometimes I think I tend to set myself up for disappointment, like I want to find something to help me decide one of life's many questions. I find a clue and then I wish I never had. I think a lot of things aren't meant to be seen or read -- life's just supposed to happen, you aren't supposed to know things that happened while you weren't there. You think you want to know, but in reality I know that I don't. Some things are better left unspoken. You just have to take one's word that they're in the right place now, and that's all that matters. I can be understanding only because I know firsthand that things can be taken out of context. That everything happens for a reason, that you can only grow by living life. But I'm tired. I'm tired of dealing with shit (or the pile of crap I dwell on that gets worse the more I think about it), I'm tired of being confused, I'm tired of not knowing. I'm tired of that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, the knot that won't unwind, cheeks wet with tears. I'm too tired to fill in the gaps, to even spell check or re-read these words to see if they make sense. Frankly, I don't care -- I'm supposed to be writing a newsletter that's due tomorrow but instead I'm dwelling on things I can't change. I'm trying to rid my system, flush out the toxic thoughts that just won't leave, that won't allow me peace ... and just when you think the knot's starting to loosen, one glance is all it takes to feel it tighten, to make the insides quiver ...