biggest pet peeve of the evening

People who are invited to your (small, intimate, close-friends-only) dinner party, who then turn around and invite other (not-too-close-of-friends) people to said dinner party -- and then ask, "Hey, is it okay that I invited X, Y, and Z" while X, Y, and Z are standing right there... and when you stammer and stutter they respond, "Good, because I already told them they could come." Me? I'm speechless.

new year's, here we come...

Walking to J.'s house last night, I thought, "Hmm, it would be nice to throw a shindig at J.'s house on New Year's Eve," and when I got there and mentioned it to him, he said, "Hmm, I was just thinking that about five minutes ago." And so: we're having a small sober-people-only New Year's Eve dinner party -- and I'm going to wear a fabulous party dress and a pair of sparkly new heels. Who could ask for anything more? Yay!

(And, yes, we'll take photos...)

happy holidays

Even though my family invited me (at, ahem, the last minute) to Christmas Day festivities in the suburbs, I decided I'd rather keep my previous plans -- which were to go to the open meeting at the house and then off to a club in Evanston where they have Christmas dinner for sober folks with H. (If I can't spend Christmas with my boyfriend, I might as well spend it with his best friend, right?) Rebel came with for it all, and H. gave me a gift accompanied by a hand-written letter:

Dearest A.,

Only on rare occasions in my life has a friend of a friend become my friend. I consider this as the beginning of one of those rare friendships. I hope to be present wherever your life happens to take you. To be a witness and a participant to your greatness will be such a gift. By the grace of my God, I so look forward to it. May she bless you in ways you never imagined. Let the spirit of your greatness overtake you and propel you forward. Be ready for all the universe has to offer.

Happy Holidays,
Love you,
H.

What an amazing gift -- and this from someone who, when I first got sober, I looked at as someone who had his life put together in ways I couldn't even comprehend, much less imagine for myself. I'm lucky -- and grateful -- to have people such as H. in my life today -- it's a far cry from last year at this time, where I spent the the morning and evening in a fairly miserable fashion (and found it difficult to stay sober, though I managed).

J. gets back into town tomorrow night, and it's going to be a welcome homecoming. It will be nice to have someone to keep me warm, once again, with all this nasty weather we're having. Namaste.

random bullets

• I'm 99.8% certain I'm done having children, but that 0.02% wiggle room is completely screwing with my ability to make a decision to schedule an appointment for Essure.
• Though the weather sucks, I still heart Tom Skilling. It's not his fault Chicago has turned into Cocytus in the ninth circle of hell.
• Dunno if it's 'cause I saw Sailor Girl's engagement ring last night or I'm just missing J. like a sonofabitch, but I had a dream last night about getting married.
• The needlepoint I'm doing for J. for Christmas? Should end up looking like this, without the mat, in a sleeker yet more substantial frame. If I keep on schedule, it will be done by bedtime tomorrow night.
• I'm seriously considering hypnosis to cure my obsession with chocolate. Last night at dinner with Uncle Eddie, I scarfed down a slice of chocolate cake and wasn't kidding in the least when I said, "I would eat this whole cake if it were free..."

forecast: pissy

I was having a pretty-good day, but it took a turn for the worse when FOUR available cabs passed me up in Andersonville for God-only-knows-what-reasons, and I ended up walking a half-mile in four-below wind chills before a cabbie finally picked me up and took me to J.'s house, where I've been taking care of his two high-maintenance cats since he's been gone. And of course this cold weather, combined with a sneeze I can't seem to shake + interminable body aches (with no boyfriend in town, life's been light on the massages), makes me grouchy (to say the least). NOT a good place to be when J. will be calling in a while for our nightly chat. Speaking of which, my new phone allows me to automatically send text messages to people when ignoring their calls. I should set one up for tonight that says, "I am denying your call because I have been temporarily (I hope!) transformed into The Atomic Fireball Bitch. Please try your call again later."

weather? don't even ask

This is my 19th winter living in Chicago as an adult, but it's the first time I've ever thought as early as December that it might be a good idea to move before I have to go through this again (the wind chills today were forty below...). Of course, my life is nothing if not filled with irony, and so it's also the first time in more than a decade that I find myself involved in a serious relationship with someone whose idea of "the best place outside of Chicago in which to live" just happens to be South Florida. This is quite interesting. My way of dealing with the situation? I wholeheartedly listen to J. complain about Chicago winters and, at least twice a week, chat about how the climate is so much better in NYC...

life's a ride

The past three days have been exhausting. Thursday involved being away from home for 15 hours and yesterday wasn't much better. I went with Uncle Eddie to day surgery, where he had almost all of the skin on the left side of his face below his eye removed due to aggressive basal cell carcinoma. (I even watched one of the stages of the surgery, until I had to excuse myself to go and faint in the washroom.) Being a friend in such trying times feels good - he couldn't have gotten through the day as easily without me - but it also causes a deep sense of emotional exhaustion to set in. That, coupled with public transportation snafus galore in trying to get Renegade to Olgivie on time last night (a task at which I failed gloriously) and being almost-late to the meeting I chair on Friday nights (sans snacks, too, which are part of my commitment) left me telling J. on the phone last night that I didn't know whether I wanted to cry or scream (and I kinda wanted to do both).

As for today, I'm at Chuck E. Cheese with Rebel right now, being in Skokie to get one of J.'s Christmas presents and the materials to frame the Frank Lloyd Wright stained glass needlepoint I'm making for him (which I'll be finishing over the days until he returns). The long and the short of it, I guess, is that life gets lifey and then it moves forward. I can either fight it or take a deep breath and move along. I choose the latter - as long as it comes with the option of taking naps and frequent hot bubble baths. Namaste.

life: still good

I dropped J. off at Midway about an hour ago, and it was weird driving back into the city in his van, alone. But it was beautiful, too, seeing the sun rise as I was heading northbound on Lake Shore Drive, which was already No. 1 on my Top Ten Drives in Chicago(land) list.

In other news, J. and I went ring shopping (for ourselves, not THAT sort of ring shopping -- believe me, you'd know about it long before it got to that point) at a store that's closing on Lincoln and Lawrence, and I have been saying for a long, long time that I want a ring to wear on my "wedding" finger as sort of a marriage to myself until the time comes (IF it comes) when I voluntarily and sanely choose to alter my marital status for a third time. And I found it -- boy, did I ever. It's a stunning piece of jewelry -- originally more than a thousand dollars and marked down to a bit less than a third of that price.

And, oh! J. gave me one of my Christmas presents last night (we're officially exchanging when he returns, the day after Christmas): an extremely generous gift certificate to Dressing Room Shoes. When I opened it, he said, "It all came together when we went into the store together and I your face glowed when you were looking at the shoes." Apparently he not only understands my love and affection for footwear, but he endorses it as well. Honestly, this is the first time since The Electrician bought me a 1968 Firebird convertible for my 25th birthday that I've actually been excited about a gift I've received from a significant other.

a come to jesus weekend

Have you ever spent six hours talking to someone about the state of your relationship, your fears and disappointments, and your hopes and desires for something better? And what if those six hours actually ended up being an investment in the future rather than the denouement of a million could haves, should haves, and would haves? If not, I have this news: it's a fabulous event followed with even more fabulous feelings, but it comes with a hell of an emotional hangover. I'm glad I stocked up on the Excedrin, or else I wouldn't be able to enjoy it all. Totally worth it, though. Namaste.

dreams come true

By the end of the weekend, I may be a small business owner. Or, depending on how you look at things, a shopkeeper, an indentured servant, or a woman rather accountable to investors. Whatever the perspective, a dream I've had for a very long time is on the verge of coming true. I hesitate to say more lest it all fall apart, but rest assured: you will all be invited to the grand opening when it comes to pass. Namaste.

funeral thoughts

I went to a funeral today, that of the man without whom I never would have finished my BA or earned one MA, much less two. It was the first Jewish service I'd ever attended (actually, the first time I'd ever stepped foot in a synagogue), and even though I'd fretted about it considerably before the actual event, it turned out to be nothing to worry about. And, ultimately, it was a beautiful ceremony -- lots of talking about how the man touched people's lives through his work as a teacher and also through his faith and leading by example. Seeing hundreds of people there, all of whom had inspirational and touching stories to tell, was a deep and meaningful testament to this man's life. I can only hope I'm half as lucky when it's my time to die. Namaste.

bullet points

• Got my (latest) idea for Tattoo No. 11 from Julia Allison. Hmm.
  
• My linguistics mentor passed away today. Still numb. And reeling.
• Chatted with J. All is good in the relationship world.
  
• Goal: Blueprint Cleanse after Christmas. Yay!
• Horrified but not surprised by the Blago arrest.
  
• However, stunned by the Tribune's "well-coiffed" description. Huh?
• Plans to buy a girdle w/garters def confirmed by Jezebel.
  

the sickness continues

I'm entering day eight of this sickness, which continues to morph every day into a form completely unrecognizable from the previous day's. And you know what? I'm actually grateful to have fallen ill for so long. As much as I hate the fever, congestion, headaches, sneezing, sore muscles, irritability, and general hatred of moving my body, it's been a relief to have the time and space to meditate about the way things are going in my life, especially with J. And he's leaving to go out of town a week from Wednesday, so before then I'll have a little chat with him, and we can use the distance to figure out where we want to go when he comes back after Christmas. So: I'm still sick, but life goes on. Namaste.

progress

My sponsor called last night when I was already in bed, but (as everyone knows) I sleep with my phone about two inches away from my head (hey, you never know when someone is going to need to talk!), and so I answered, and we talked for the better part of an hour -- she wanted some clarification about my worries and fears surrounding J., and I think we both went to sleep with a better idea of what needs to be done.

Honestly, I don't know whether I'll break up with J. What I do know: my needs are not getting met. And I believe I'm making progress because, while in the past I would have said that as some sort of accusation, today it's just a fact. He may or may not be able to meet my needs, but -- as is usually my pattern -- I've fallen into a trap of worrying only about his needs and wants and letting mine fall by the wayside. I think J. and I have very different conceptions of where we should be at this point in our relationship, and while (until now) I've put my ideas on hold to see if some compromise could be made, he's not budging -- and what I consider to be a holding pattern is exactly where he wants to be, leaving me feeling taken for granted and unfulfilled.

And so? I'm figuring out a way to talk to him about taking a break so I can get my house (and thoughts) in order and get back on track re: my sobriety -- and he can do the same. He's been sponsorless for over a month now, and he surely has enough going on that he needs to straighten out before we can even think about what's possible (or not). At this point, I'm fairly certain I'd like for us to go back to being good friends -- and, honestly, that's pretty much what we are now, since our physical interaction for the past few weeks has been limited to good-night kisses and hugs (and fairly chaste ones, at that).

I suppose this means I'm pausing. The down side is that pausing isn't a very comfortable action for me (yet). The up side? Perhaps I'll get my closets cleaned out before the end of December. Namaste.

ill will?

Tonight I had a chance to talk with my sponsor about all sorts of things, and, as is usually the case, she was able to put my life and its current state -- including my relationship with J. -- in perspective. The best advice she gave me was that if I choose to step back with J. and become only friends, I am not leaving him or abandoning him or running away; I would be making healthy choices to ensure my sobriety and continued mental health and spiritual growth. She also pointed out that sometimes we need to make mistakes to realize that while we thought we'd gotten rid of the huge red elephant in the room, perhaps he's back and is now tiny and blue instead. She advised me to go home and meditate and pray about the situation, and let my higher power (which I conceive of as the universe and all of its inhabitants) lead me the way out of this sticky situation. And you know? I already feel better. Even though I am still horribly, horribly ill with the flu.

feeling flu-ish

Today, I went outside for the first time since Monday -- I've been mostly languishing in bed and on the couch and at all points in between with body aches, fever-n-chills, a sore throat, stuffiness, sneeziness, and general malaise. I haven't been eating a lot, but J. did bring me orange juice, Vitamin C tablets, tangerines, and -- last night -- a spicy Mexican dinner from Garcia's. And if it hadn't been for a doctor's appointment with my neurosurgeon and having to cover the preview of Navy Pier's Winter WonderLand for work, I doubt I would've left my house today. In fact, I'm looking forward to staying home as long as possible tomorrow... which means until around 4pm. Namaste.

le sigh

Whenever I'm coming down with an illness more significant than a few sniffles and sneezes, I start getting grumpy 24-36 hours in advance. And so given that I've had body aches and a slight sense of nausea for the past 18 hours, there is a possibility that my recent annoyance and irritation with J. is a direct result of my Pre-Sickness Syndrome (PSS). However, there is also a possibility that I'm simply losing my patience about the situation, my compassion for his pain, and my ability to deal with another human being.

We've been dating for a bit over three months now, and during that time period we haven't progressed past, oh, second base -- not a huge deal in itself, but add that to the fact that J. is in constant pain (about which he does almost nothing), is frequently grumpy (because of the pain), and occasionally old man-ish in his comments, attitudes, and tastes... well, I'm beginning to get irked. Last night I actually had a desire to break up with him during The Snow Queen intermission. And I've been dreaming the past few nights -- those complex disturbing dreams I have when I'm grappling with uncomfortable things during my waking hours -- and, twice, have woken up in the midst of a panic attack. In case I'm not being clear, none of these things are good.

So, then, this is either PSS or I need to break up with J. -- or I need to find a way of dealing with relationship conflicts and failed expectations that doesn't entail running away as quickly as I can. For now, though? I'm going to go home and change into my flannel PJs and comfy slipper socks, order a cheeseless pizza, eat some Pop Tarts, and watch disc one of season four of House, M.D. while lying on the couch. Because, you see, time doesn't only heal all wounds, but it allows our psychological paper cuts time to either fester into something real or clear up on their own...