Category Archives: Hope

Shy…

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We were busier than usual today and in the midst of 6 tables sitting at a time, we have people sitting at the bar too. Phew.

Things are finally under control and a cute guy sits at the bar.

Job perk… some of them are more fun to wait on.

He smiles at me and rests his chin on his hand. I ask him if I can get him something to drink and he smiles sweetly at me and says.

G- Do you write a blog?

Instant heart failure. Potential d-fib as a result of my erratic heart rate. One of those dreaded sort of deep breath, wipe the shock off your face and smile comfortably, sort of moment.

J- What?

G- I don’t read it, one of my friends loves it, she thinks you’re a great writer.

It’s literally my worst nightmare moment because it’s so strange to me that anyone reads this whiny mess sometimes. The original deer in the headlights moment… and yet I’m so flattered and even more awkward, lol…

J- Thanks- it’s a little strange having someone recognize me for it, that’s all.

G- Take it as a compliment, she said it’s good.

I can’t help but think back to the first few years when my blog got a few hits a month…. and now I can count how many different countries readers come from. 17 today. Bizarre, right? I’m kind of a big deal in Jamaica and India…who knew? I’m enjoying a glass of wine after work and getting a Pinterest fix at the bar.

Two of my favorite women come in to have a beer together and invite me along to dinner. They’re like the big sisters I always wanted and needed, but didn’t have. The brains of the operation. Miss Wisdom and Miss Happiness. Miss Wisdom has saved me in the last few weeks when I didn’t know up from down. Miss Happiness just is the happiest person I’ve ever met. She hugs me every time I see her, and just the sight of her smiling face is enough to make you have a better day.

I’ve been saved by the women in my life in the last few weeks. Saved by the clear headed female wonders who can see the reality of the chaos surrounding me when I’m busy trying to figure out where the flood is coming from while standing with my hand on the faucet.

Can’t see the forest for trees? HA…. I’d be happy if the trees were the only thing I can’t see… I’d be happy with a glimpse of the blue sky.

BUT… there’s always hope because I’m blessed with amazing friends that giggle over the crazy chaos that follows me daily, and after getting home, putting the dogs in their kennels and pouring myself a much needed glass of wine, I sat down to listen to the days messages, read email, etc… and heard a chorus of my favorite ladies singing <and laughing> to me….

“Hey we heard you were a wild one…”

lol….

I have no idea where they got that idea…

Goodbye…

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Goodbyes are so hard for me. Nothing stings more than a bond left broken or a situation left unresolved.

I like things tied up in a neat little bow. I like to own my own bullshit and I like to accept responsibility for my role in an unpleasant situation.

Not everyone feels the same… and for some people? It’s ok to just say “FUCK YOU” and walk away.

I’ll never be that girl.

I’ll always be the one who wants you to look back fondly.

I’ll always be the one willing to accept more than my share of the blame, purely to keep the peace.

I’ll always be thankful for the lessons, even when it comes to the heartbreak. They all count… even the painful lessons- in fact sometimes they count more.

The last time I heard this song was the day the Dirty Boat Thief finally left.

Loss is loss… even when it’s a blessing in disguise. Saying goodbye hurts when you still love someone, even when you know you shouldn’t. Even when the other person hates you.

Sometimes goodbye stings even more because you know it’s been a long time coming, or because you really wanted to believe he was that mythical perfect man. The one we all hope really does exist because otherwise… what’s the fucking point? If they’re all just a variation of the same douche bag… I quit.

When you’re going through the end of a relationship, no matter how calm or rocky… it reaches a point where there isn’t anything left to say, and anything said will be fueled by hate or frustration, not an honest desire to come to a resolution.

Sometimes the only resolution is silence, and if you think insults hurt? Nothing compares to a cold shoulder.

At a certain point, all that’s left is goodbye.

I don’t want to hurt someone. I don’t want him to hurt me. I wanted it to be perfect and it wasn’t. I wanted to be what he loved and couldn’t live without… but I’m not.

It taught me to want the kind of love that puts diamonds in champagne flutes.

It taught me to demand amazing and walk away from anything less because that’s how what I’m determined to be in someone’s life: amazing.

Breakups are horrible and nobody wants to trudge down that lonely cold road for what feels like the millionth time.

Staying on the same miserable path simply isn’t an option when you’ve seen how beautiful life CAN be and WILL be again. Lonely is better than miserable, and in time it’s pretty comforting to find yourself in the company of someone gentle and kind, IE: yourself.

Standing too close to the impending crash of a relationship is dangerous…

I choose to walk away quietly, carry my little white flag of surrender and blow kisses in the rear-view mirror. I choose to watch it end with a smile, knowing I did what I could to give a love so star-crossed, a chance to bloom.

The facts are, it just didn’t germinate. The seeds molded and decomposed. It was a failed crop in the greenhouse of my life.

I had the incomparable joy of planting them, watered them with laughter and salt water and  hoped patiently that they would thrive in plenty of sun.

But sometimes they just don’t sprout. Sometimes they just return to the soil and become food for the next seed that’s planted.

Painful lessons about what you don’t want, need & deserve are unpleasant, but necessary.

They’re the lessons that teach you how to say goodbye when you want to the least.

Being an adult really sucks sometimes.

 

Vice Parade

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Ok so I’m a creature of comfort. I like it. Domesticity=heaven in my book. Making breakfast in heels and panties makes me happy.

A wannabe pin-up for sure. I’d put my hair in pigtails if it wouldn’t risk ruining the perfect eggs.

Looking at the day ahead and breathing, finally. Itching to go for a run in the fog.

Cleaning the kitchen… emptying the dead food from the refrigerator and deciding to sink into my own little parade of vices.

So I iron a dress, and curl my hair. Fake lashes, the whole nine. Why not. I feel better and nobody needed to see me for the past week- I’m starving and there’s nothing to eat. Hell I might even go to two stores, or even three. I love grocery shopping. Love it. Especially at Super 1 after my whole Mr. Flintstone crush.

Call it a retail high, or my Mormon roots shining through… but I go down every aisle, happily. I curled my hair for this, I’m gonna enjoy it!

First things first, a dozen roses. Fuck Valentine’s day this year, period. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to be tortured by the displays and not see roses in my kitchen. Nope. That’s the beauty of being a self reliant, single woman. $15 is cheap to avoid another boyfriend.

Olive bar… oh gawddd… this is gonna be one of those days. Prawns, fresh basil, grape tomatoes, fresh mozzarella pearls…prosciutto and marinated artichoke hearts. Be still my heart.

Pizza… bacon… and my favorite little Ham & Swiss Lunchable. Oh my. You absolutely CAN buy happiness.

This girl intends to feed this broken heart until it’s full again. Emotional eating? Absolutely- don’t judge.

Fresh tuna, lobster tails, wasabi and baby fingerling potatoes. Everything to make Husband soup. Inoki mushrooms, praise God.

Rootbeer, vanilla ice cream… and everything to bake myself into the white zone.

Two bottles of Sauvingnon Blanc and a bag of beef jerky… because I’m still that pathetic broken hearted girl and it reminds me of him. I’m being honest. Ugh. Ouch. Time to get baking.

Dicing vegetables is zen. I’m meticulous. I have to have perfect little square potatoes, and they have to be fairly uniform. I don’t like haphazard soup… and I enjoy the process. Washing mushrooms and peeling carrots. Making the dough for the noodles and diving deep into my favorite things to save myself.

I’m sad, and it’s awful- and I miss him… and I know that I just have to miss him from now on… and it sucks when you know you just have to survive it, because the pain is not going to end until you let it. It was so right… so incredibly everything I ever wanted… and it’s confusing how it all ended and it’s hard having him hate me. How’s that for truth. Ugh.

Making noodles makes me feel ridiculously attractive. Funny huh? I’m the sexiest noodle making old fashioned girl on the block, lol. I like doing things the old fashioned way. I love making it from scratch. I’m Jenni Crocker Stewart on overdrive, consider this my public service announcement. Y’all are about to gain some weight if you stop by.

Why not make bread if I’m making noodles, right? Sure. Honey whole wheat rolls, for my daughter to pack for lunch this week too. If this nightmare has taught me anything, it’s to stick to my core values and true feelings. I knew something was wrong when he wasn’t waiting for me at the airport. I’m a fucking hypocrite if I tell my kids to listen to their heart and ignore my own. I ignored some red flags here and there because it was just so good. Funny and intimate and amazing. Until it wasn’t. I’m really determined to be thankful for the good moments because the pictures make me smile and the memories are priceless in knowing what it feels like to have someone be wonderful to you. It’s a hell of a story, if nothing else.

My life is a damn movie, lol…

Complete with Puerto Rican Police and being roofied. Word. Come on, laugh with me about it. I’m still in shock. A week ago today I was walking in the rainforest with him, so in love and so sad to be leaving him I dissolved into tears all day. It was fantastic and I am thankful for the memories.

Bake, woman… stop thinking… grating lemons, melting butter… mmmm…. Meyer Lemon Bars.

Fresh pesto with the basil I bought… Mmm the house smells amazing. My bread is rising, my noodles are drying and the broth is simmering lightly on the stove.

Success. Grin. Let the fun begin.

A delightful cigarette before filling a glass of wine… and a bubble bath with my favorite coconut scented bubbles. Scrub my feet and shave my legs… anything to get rid of this tan that is a constant reminder that I just got back. Bruises here and there. My aching heart. It all just sucks to go through. Haven’t I done this enough already? Haven’t I learned my lesson? What the fuck is wrong with me and my judgement? Seriously.

He’s more worried about how I portrayed him than the fact someone put something in my drink… while telling me I don’t know what real love is. To be honest, I think he’s right. I don’t know what it is… but I do know what it’s not.

This is a prime example of what real love ISN’T. Perhaps it could have been, but without faith, love doesn’t stand a chance.

I have an hour before I have to shape my dough into rolls… and I’ve avoided my knitting because I’ve been too depressed. Knitting makes me happy and I have brand new fuzzy brown yarn. Within a few stitches I’m at ease. Calming down. Breathing deeply and allowing myself to miss him even though it’s gone so horribly south. It’s a lot to deal with in a week and I’m still reeling. Nevermind the impact of the climate change on my body, my whole world has been turned upside down and I have been in both heaven and hell in the last 7 days. I don’t recommend it.

This darling little bunny face is shaping himself in my hands and I’m wistful. He wanted me to knit him something and I naturally start. I’m so ridiculously predictable it’s sad, lol. I’ll make him for myself and it will be a reminder that I shouldn’t do too much. Cute little seed stitch ears, a little pink nose… he’s adorable already and he’s simply a decapitated bunny head. Sitting down to quietly make something with your hands, even if it’s nothing more than folding rags into squares is soothing, routine, and peaceful.

Sunday cleaning, fresh fluffy towels in the bathroom and clean sheets on my little darling’s bed. Fluffy white socks, a freshly washed blanket and one of many glasses of wine needed to face this day. Stupid shows about weddings… ya know- cause that’s what you watch when you want to wallow in your breakup.

Because ultimately… if it can work out for that crazy bitch on the TV?

It can definitely work out for you.

Cheers… and give me a call if you’re hungry :)

If you can’t stand the heat…

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Then you ask me to password protect it ♥

It got the point across to whom it was intended to offend- and well… it takes a lot to bare your soul to the world, and the beauty of blogging is having the luxury of pulling the plug.

Write drunk, edit sober… even when you’re purely drunk on heartache. My Lovely friend was a little blown away by the instantaneous response. She’s still bleeding at the heart a little, and the betrayal is still so fresh. I love her so much, and I know how she’s feeling. You just have to suffer through the hell of it, unfortunately. Nothing much will help, other than time.

Men who juggle women deserve to get their balls ripped off… and verbally? I come pretty close. I’ve suffered through the worst of them, and I know all too well what disappointment and betrayal feel like. I think we all can relate… unfortunately.

He doesn’t take responsibility for it, in any situation. Cheaters are universal in that he will always blame something about you for why he couldn’t be faithful. I’ve learned a lot about the difference in men in the last year. There are two types. Assholes & Amazing. That’s the real black and white of it. He either gives a shit about his personal character and the quality of himself as a man… or he doesn’t.

If he doesn’t, then he juggles women dishonestly. He’s not concerned with his integrity or being true to his word. He’s selfish, and looking out for what you can do for him, not thinking for a second about who the man in your life should be. He knows you’re amazing… and that doesn’t even slow him down. He’s an Asshole, and I can spot one a mile away…. mostly because I’ve dated them so often. I’ve had my douche bag magnet removed and as a result, my standards have been raised to a nearly impossible super-human level.

I’ve been ruined for other men… because I’m a lucky girl who’s loved by Amazing.

Amazing calls. Amazing says exactly what he’s thinking/feeling/doing. He doesn’t have secrets because he doesn’t want you to keep any. He loves you deeply and out loud, without worrying about playing games… because it’s your heart he’s after and he’s determined to keep it. He doesn’t say mean things. He wakes you up with nice words and an undying desire to please you. Wherever you go in life, in any situation… when someone mentions him- you smile from your head to your toes. He can be late. He can forget to call…. but he doesn’t- because you mean the world to him and he’s determined to prove it every chance he gets.

But…

That whole Asshole thing can be attractive… a lesson taught to me repeatedly by a certain 25 year old I dated. I wasn’t used to having to convince someone to like or respect me. It’d always come naturally- because I’m so nice. I learned a lot from the situation and I can’t regret it… because when you’ve seen the worst of the worst? You learn what you aren’t willing to accept. You learn the real value of Amazing.

You know when you see it because it’s completely different from what you’ve seen before and it FEELS right.

It feels Amazing.

There are a lot of Assholes in Amazing clothing. A lot of them are difficult to spot… but for goodness sake when you find that you are the poor unsuspecting girl at the heart of the matter, surround yourself with your real friends.

Your real friends are the people that tell you what a douche bag he is, and beyond that? They tell him too. I have no time for friends in my life who want to befriend my exes. It’s a choice- make it- and be honest about it, because I’ll find out. I don’t tolerate disloyal people. I’ve filled my quota in the last year.

I’m too Amazing for all that. I’m too adored by Amazing and surrounded by Amazing friends. I’ve faced the heat and survived with a whole lot of wisdom to show for it. I’m focused on being as protective of myself as I am of my loved ones. I’m a damn fine woman and I’m finally acting like it. I’m also the friend you call to help you burn his house down, help you bury the body and bail you out, if need be.

I’m the friend who tells you the truth. I’m the friend that flips him off in your absence- because- in my opinion, everyone who loves you, should. I may end up sitting next to one of my friends in jail at some point, but I’ll never be the Judas who kisses the ass of the person who hurt her. There’s a lot of value in being a true friend, because it comes back to you a million times over.

Be Amazing…

There are plenty of assholes in the world. Don’t be a Mike.