an ego boost

After leaving the house wearing a quite-provocative outfit (so much so that I wondered if I should even be wearing it to our weekly Friday night meeting... although it wasn't revealing, just sexy), I arrived at the house, where I received a number of compliments (both verbal and ogle-wise).

When J. walked in -- with his best friend, H. -- he said, "Given all the men here who already think you're sexy as sexy can be, are you trying to torture people?"

After smiling, I took the opportunity to remind him that he is a very lucky man.

Wait 'til he sees the dress I'm wearing to dinner at the Russian Tea Room and to see A Christmas Carol at The Goodman tomorrow night... this whole "coming into my own as a self-confident adult woman who knows she's got it going on" is much more fabulous than I'd ever imagined, expected, or hoped. Life is good. Namaste.

seeing red

The Philosopher is lucky he's still alive at this point. Turns out that despite having an agreement for me to claim Rebel on my tax return, he went ahead and claimed the kid... which means I'm dealing with the IRS on my back (to be fair, he should be getting a letter soon, too) with the potential of being charged with tax fraud. Meanwhile? I'm grateful for Gmail, which means I have an historical account of every single email exchange I've had with The Philosopher since 2006. And also? Uncle Eddie has a tax attorney on retainer who, I'm told, enjoys his work. This is going to get very interesting.

facebook thoughts

I've been catching up with high school friends (and acquaintances) via Facebook lately, and while I'm sure it's kind of not-so-nice to say this, I'm amazed at how, uh, large some people have become over the past 18 years. I guess it really is true that some people have the best years of their lives when they are young, and others take time to bloom into those years. Today, I'm grateful that I am the latter.

cancer sucks

Uncle Eddie is supposed to start chemo tomorrow, but the dermatologist now wants to remove the skin cancer before that happens, so it's all up in the air. I am frustrated for him; he doesn't know what to do or how to schedule things or even whether he'll be able to cope with any of this. I am trying to be positive, but all I can think of is that I really don't want him to die. I've talked with him on the phone every day for the past six months (he's my daily sober talking buddy), and the idea of that disappearing from my life is absolutely terrifying. Sigh. Time for more prayers.

the day in brief

It's been a weird day, mostly because I went to the doctor yesterday for my back and neck pain, and he prescribed a new pain medication until we get the results of the MRI, and that new medication makes me sleepy. And it's a weird kind of sleepy, more similar to the dry-mouthed sort of feeling you get when you're coming down with the flu than the sort that happens when you've taken too much Vicodin. But still: not pleasant.

Also not pleasant (and that's putting it mildly): Uncle Eddie went to the doctor this afternoon and was told that the doctor is worried that it's progressed too far already. Still, he starts chemo on Friday. This, combined with my looking up liver cancer mortality rates online yesterday, is bad for my mental health. Really bad.

And the (only) positive news of the day: J. went to the hardware store to have keys made for me for his house. My reaction? Well, it's the first time that anyone has ever given me keys to his place, so I suppose it will take a bit of time before it sinks in. Still, it's a positive feeling. Which, in itself, is weird, as normally at this phase in a relationship I'd be desperately looking for an escape hatch and feeling quite claustrophic. Ain't sober life grand?

the first unpleasantness

Sitting in the Mexican restaurant three blocks away from his house (and four from hers), he begins to talk about a friend of his, one who almost cheated on his wife last night; they both blame the entire situation on the wife's lack of support, interest, and willingness. Thinking he wants her advice, she says, "It's my experience that people, generally speaking, should do the right things independently of whether others do the wrong ones."

"You don't know anything about men," he snaps. "And you're bringing your own shit into this, or else you wouldn't say that."

For ten minutes, all she does is nod and listen while he rambles on about the friend and the wife and the situation. Because she has never before just nodded and listened, he rambles even more, self-consciously, at a quicker and quicker pace, until he is frenzied to a finite place in which he realizes the awkwardness of his insult and pauses to apologize.

She takes his hand in hers to offer up the possibility that he is too close to this situation, and too tired, and in too much pain, to allow her to do anything other than listen, and they are both saddened and spent. After dinner, he drives her home, where he walks her to the door, perhaps out of guilt. When she nuzzles into his neck during their customary good-bye ritual he says, "my world is crumbling with all of this pain, and I am deeply sorry," what she tells him -- and she is being honest -- is that she is strong enough to offer up compassion with her convictions.

Though it is tempered by the shock of this first unpleasantness, the evening ends refilled with hope, and she believes for the first time in what she heard many years ago: love is a policy, not a feeling.

short weekend update

I'm too tired and in too much pain to write terribly much about the weekend, other than it was fabulous -- yet another one in the string of weekends J. and I have been able to put together. Galena was absolutely wonderful, exactly what we needed after a quite-hectic week. It was the first time J. had stayed in a B&B, the owners of the house were sober (!), and we found some great pieces for our homes, including a cranberry glass vase (for me) and a glass-iron piece that serves as a smashing centerpiece for J.'s dining room table.

In less happy news: J.'s back has reached the point where he'll probably need to have surgery again, very soon. And Uncle Eddie -- to whom I've grown extremely close over the past few months, to the point where he's practically my surrogate father -- not only has skin cancer but liver cancer as well. So it looks as though I'll be playing nursemaid to both of these men, quite possible moving in with J. for the first few weeks or months after his surgery, until he's out of his full-body brace. It's funny how life turns out the way it does, especially since it's rarely how you'd ever have imagined things for yourself. I suppose all I can really do is enjoy the ride, both the ups and downs. Namaste.

hiatus or sabbatical or... both?

After lunch, J. and I are headed out of town for the weekend, and I am -- gasp! -- leaving my laptop at home, which is astonishing, as I have not spent more than a few hours away from said computer since I purchased it in January 2006... and even then, it was only because I was in the hospital. And I even deleted my email account from my phone, so I won't be tempted and/or distracted from what is supposed to be a relaxing and rejuvenating weekend. But? This might prove to be even harder than early sobriety. Wish me luck.

conversation with a freelance client

I've been doing some freelance work for a new agency, and a client called me to ask about some edits I'd made. And I'd forgotten I had subscribed to a new call tone on my phone that just happened to be No Doubt's Hella Good. And the guy says to me, "A vegan email address and dance-inspiring music on your phone when people call? I bet you're a wonderful free spirit and have a really fun time at life." All I could do was smile. Because really? He had no idea how right he was. Namaste.

giving it away

Tonight I gave a lead in front of at least 200 people, and I would be lying if I said I weren't nervous. Nonetheless, it amazed me as much as it did anyone when I gave a talk that couldn't have been any better had I written it out and edited it a million times in advance. Everyone says that the best way to give a lead is to pray for God to speak through you, and damned if that wasn't what happened tonight. All I can say? Wow.

one of many photos from halloween

emotional hangover

Therapy lately has been so intense that it's become the emotional equivalent of radiation treatment; it takes a few days for me to recover. And by "a few days" I mean almost a week. By the time I feel OK with the things uncovered from the week before, it's time to go again. And so I've made the decision to cut back to every-other-week. It's a really good thing that I'm getting down to the quick of things... but it sure does unsettle a girl to finally realize why she keeps doing the same things over and over again.

worth the wait

No, I haven't had sex with J. -- and, really, when I do, it's not as though I'm going to broadcast it within hours or anything. But I did finally get a new phone... since my BlackBerry was stolen in August, I've been making do with a phone I bought in 2004 (I knew there was a time when being a pack rat would come in handy...). And the best part isn't the shape (I love unusual dimensions) or the fact that I can watch TV (hello, Gossip Girl!) on my phone or listen to music through its MP3 player. No, the thing adore the most is that it's purple. Hey -- no one ever said I was serious about everything.

about the cliffhanger...

Sunday mornings J. goes to a meeting held at the hospital where he completed his last treatment, and this week -- since it was his one-year anniversary and he was getting his coin there -- he invited me to come along. While we were getting ready, he gave me a ring.

"This never belonged to any of my girlfriends," he said. "I bought it about 20 years ago while traveling, and I've had it ever since. Now, it's yours."

It's not anything fancy, but the ring took me by surprise and the gesture was genuine and quite sweet. A year ago, the thought of a relationship that lasted this long in which I still hadn't had sex would have baffled me. This time around? I'm learning completely new things about what it means to open myself up and really let someone in -- this must be what it's like to have a healthy relationship, one based on the gradual development of trust and love rather than a dysfunctional one built upon fear, jealousy, dishonesty, and lust. Life is good today, and for that I am grateful. Namaste.

busy weekend

Friday:
Picked up The Cute Carpenter's car (which I borrowed for the day), drove to Hyde Park, found dominatrix garb at MM's house, almost brought home a stray kitty, headed to Boystown for the finishing touches on my costume, dropped off Renegade & his friends at the Davis so they could see High School Musical 3, took a short nap, went to J.'s house, dressed and got myself all corseted up, headed out on the town as a dominatrix with slave (J.) in tow, went to the sober Halloween party, ate dinner at Garcia's, went back to J.'s house, got undressed and uncorseted, went to bed, slept well.

Saturday:
Slept late (almost 10am), went home and showered, went back to J.'s house, picked up the boys, went shopping at CostCo, came home, took a nap, brought the boys home, walked to J.'s house, went to dinner at D'Agostino's in Glenview, went to the 8pm meeting in Wilmette, heard J. give a lead, stopped by my place for my clothes & toiletries, went back to J.'s house (this is a pattern?), watched most of Some Like it Hot, went to bed, slept well.

Sunday:
Woke early (7am), went to Des Plaines for a meeting to see J. get his one-year coin, ate breakfast with J.'s friends, went grocery shopping for fruits and veggies, went home to change and grab my bike, rode to J.'s house, took a nap, hopped on our bikes and rode the North Shore trail to the Ladd Arboretum and back (stopping to swing, slide, and otherwise wreak havoc at a playground in Evanston), went back to J.'s house, finished watching Some Like it Hot, took another nap, rode back to my house, was picked up by J., drove to Evanston for J.'s anniversary dinner at Flat Top Grill, walked around downtown Evanston for half an hour or so, J. dropped me off at home, turned on my computer for the first time since Friday.

And, oh... J. gave me a ring this morning. More on that later. And, no, we're not engaged. It wasn't that kind of ring.