Changin' around

Hola Amigos,

I changed the look here. I like this template because it's more literary and shit.

I'm still tweaking. And I feel lopsided since everything automatically shifted over to the left. But I do feel more comfortable here, it's easier on the eyes.

More later. Peace out.

The Buffet Is Closed

Or so I hope.

This post will probably gross some folks out. Not that they'd be reading it. My 3 faithful readers are accustomed all sorts of animal grossies, so I'm not too worried about it.

I have 2 boxer dogs and 3 cats, and a very small house. In an effort to make eliminating as comfortable for my cats as it can be, I have several litterboxes. The equation is you have one litterbox for every cat, plus one more. I don't have that exactly, but one is a huge rubbermaid storage bin, which pretty much counts for two regular size boxes. I think only one of them uses it because there are usually just a couple turdlets in there every other day or so. Then the other two are just conventional litterboxes, which absorb the brunt of their emissions. I swear, you could give them 20 litterboxes and they'd still only use 2.

My dogs make no bones about the fact that they snack out of the litterboxes. I'm fastidious about cleaning them, but my cats do indeed crap when I'm not at home, and the dogs just help themselves. I've taken to gating off my living room during the day so technically I could move the litter boxes in there. But first off, I'm not big on moving litterboxes once my cats have become accustomed to where they are. Secondly, I don't want litterboxes in my living room.

Well, I'd finally had enough of their snacking and crumbs of litter hanging off their mouths and little trails of litter if they decided to take their find someplace else and eat it (my bed, for example). So I had the day off yesterday. I was getting tests done prior to this knee surgery and there's a Pet Supplies Plus right on the way home from my clinic. So I bought 2 jumbo litterboxes with lids and door flaps. Aha, I said to myself, lets see the goobers try and get a turd out of here.

I put the lids on this morning, so I'll know when I get home how it went. I'm not sure how the kitties will take to a box having a cover, they've always been open before.

I'm hoping everything goes well, but I keep having these visions of my dogs sticking their heads through the little doors. I can't even imagine what a mess that would be. And what if one of the cats is using the facilities at the time? The horror...

Chances are they won't do that. Ravi, my 80 lb. male (and the most prolific cat crap stealer, I believe) is a bit head-shy. I can't see him sticking his head in anywere. Stella is probably too graceful to actually cause a problem. But still, I worry. What exactly am I going to come home to? Will the cats be OK with all this?

I'll report on this later. Or if you don't hear me discuss it again it either went really well, or so badly that I can't bring myself to talk about it.

LMN and Me

I must comment on the phenomenon of the Lifetime Movie Network and how it relates to me. This weekend was not the first time I was sucked in to copious amounts of television watching, all because of this stupid channel.

Essentially I'm a movie snob. I don't give people a hard time about what they've seen, I just won't go see a lot of things myself. Date movies were never my thing (I've never seen Sleepless In Seattle or You've Got Mail, and I regret ever seeing When Harry Met Sally and Dirty Dancing), not big into romantic comedies or chick flicks. My tastes are quirky (Pee Wee's Big Adventure is in my top 10) and I do like my fair share of crap (I've seen Dodgeball and Houseguest repeatedly).

Yet I can sit and watch some of the worst made for TV movies in history with glee on Lifetime Movie Network. LMN (if you want to sound hip about it, and you probably don't) is a flipping warehouse of junk. This network is where actors' careers go to die. All your favorites from sitcoms of long ago? You'll find them here. Heartthrobs who are just a little past their prime? You'll find them here. Storylines that would never make it past studio executives? Thousands of lousy screenwriters finally have an outlet for their creative voices right here. Actors just getting their start? They're right here.

Where else could you see Hillary Swank sucker punch Joanna Kerns in the jaw, not once, but twice? No, this isn't a prequel to Million Dollar Baby. It's a snippet from a 1996 tv movie I saw this weekend called "Terror in the House".

A funny thing about this channel (or maybe it's a funny thing about me), there are vast differences in the quality of the programs. Well, the difference usually boils down to a plot that make sense with only minor holes in it or a plot with holes big enough to drive a truck through. I suppose you could say my criteria between a thumbs up rating and a thumbs down rating is how well the story holds together.

One I saw not long ago was almost incomprehensible. A woman's best friend set out to ruin her life for not much of a discernable reason, and that's about all I could make of it. The fun thing about the really bad ones is that my sister is usually home watching them too (serendipity, I guess) so we call each other frequently to discuss how bad it is, or to fill the other in on something we may have missed while going to the bathroom/reading the mail/talking on the phone. As if it actually matters, but we're invested in it, you know?

I don't doubt that part of my affection for this channel has to do with the fact that these are movies I can watch for free and I know I can turn them off any time, so I don't necessarily feel like my time is wasted. If I pay to see a movie and I dislike it, well that sits with me for a while. But here I can just forego watching if I feel like it.

A lot of these qualify for the so bad it's good category. I'd say the high water mark for me was a little gem called "Friends to the End." It had Shannen Doherty in it (not a fan). Long story short she's targeted by a woman who hates her and is trying to ruin her life (there's a lot of 'friend sets out to ruin other friend's life' on LMN; perhaps it should be its own category, along with drama, comedy, classic...). It's got a fake music video in it (possibly the high point), Mickey slipping, cat fighting, infidelity, false pregnancy, mental illness and murder. Such fun!

I generally won't watch 'disease of the month' movies, or the romantic comedy ones. The trashier the better, that's what I say.

I just now checked the schedule for tonight, and I nearly peed my pants. It's called "The People Next Door" and it stars Faye Dunaway! That's a recipe for pure LMN gold!!! Normally I save my LMN watching for the weekend, but I may have to break that little rule tonight. I checked out a few more, and I'm really looking forward to "The Rendering." It's not about cleaning grease traps for a living either. In this one it looks like a woman possibly married the man who tried to kill her 10 years earlier.

How could that not be good??

I did feel a pang of sadness when I watched a movie with Vincent Spano in it. Actually he's been in quite a few. The one I'm thinking of in particular was called "The Deadly Look of Love" and it was just as bad/good as it sounds. I've always had a crush on Vincent Spano (since Baby It's You) and he's been in several John Sayles movies, JOHN SAYLES for cripes sake. And here he is on LMN in a crappy movie with a crappy nose job. Strangely, he's still handsome, just different looking and the nose job somehow adds a more harsh look to his face.

But he does exemplify what LMN is all about. What would Vincent Spano be doing now if this channel weren't around to keep his movies alive???

Happy Birthday Dad; LONG

Hola Amigos,

Today is my dad's birthday. He would have been 75. He died 9 years ago. I still miss him terribly. I can't believe that it's been 9 years, because I probably think about him as much as I ever did. He was a big part of my life and he comes up often. I do think of him, in some way or another, each and every day of my life.

I have dreams about him occasionally. It's always kind of comforting, but the bad thing in the dream is that I know he's going to die, I just don't know when, and there's not a thing I can do about it. So every minute with him is a worried one.

His death was a complete shock. He'd gone through surgery and chemo/radiation for colon cancer and was given a clean bill of health half a year before he died. It was a blood clot that killed him (thrombosis), he'd developed them as a result of chemo. He was dead before he knew what hit him.

My dad was born in 1933 to my grandma Vera and my (biological) grandpa Lou. They lived in a tiny (pop. 100) town in Iowa. My grandpa ran a service station and my grandma, who was about as free spirited as they come, did her thing (I'll post about my grandma's social life some other time! She was a fun, fun lady). He has one sister, about 4 years older than he. When he was a baby he contracted polio. My grandma took him to a couple of doctors, one of whom told her he needed braces on his legs, and one who told her he didn't. She opted to not put braces on him. He got better, but his left leg was shorter and smaller than his right so he had a pronounced limp.

When he was 6 years old his father was diagnosed with cancer. It was so far along there was nothing to be done, so they sent him home to die. My dad remembers being with him and holding his hand, and his father saying "Look how strong you've gotten." My grandma said they were real buddies, 2 peas in a pod. "After Lou died your dad was never the same."

My grandmother had to provide for her 2 children so she moved around a bit, working in cafes and switchboards. During that time she and my dad got into a horrible car accident. My grandma sustained injuries, but my father was thrown from the car and very badly hurt. She said the left side of his head was completely smashed. She assumed he was a goner. Being in rural Iowa the hospital was very small, and she said she could hear him moaning all the time. He was in a coma, and every evening the doctors told my grandma that he wouldn't make it through the night. This went on for a week, until he woke up. But he needed extensive rehabilitation (he'd lost his ability to speak and had to relearn most things), so my grandma's sister, my aunt Bob (yes I had an aunt Bob) and her husband Harold took my dad in. He stayed with them while my grandma worked various jobs (my dad's sister was working alongside her), right up until she got remarried to the man I knew to be my grandpa Fred. By then my dad was 12.

My dad didn't like Fred, and grandma said that my dad was always causing or in trouble. She would get phone calls from the school asking her where Quentin was (my dad's name is Quentin!), and he was almost always at the pool hall. School bored him. He skipped ahead grades. He tutored kids years older than he was. He was just too smart for his own good.

At this time they were living on a farm. When he was 15 he was in the barn milking cows. There were barn kittens everywhere and one of the cows was stepping back and was going to step right on a kitten so my dad grabbed it, but the cow got spooked and kicked him in the leg (this was his polio leg, mind you). Rather than get trampled by a crazy cow, he pulled himself up on one of the rafters. He said when he looked down his left foot was facing backwards. Can you imagine that??? He screamed and screamed until my grandpa heard him and brought him into the house. He was in traction, had surgeries, pins and plates. His leg was such a mess.

Also at 15 he decided to be baptized in the Catholic church. He wasn't converting, mind you. My grandmother was not a religious person, so my dad was raised without religion. But he did some homework and to him being Catholic was a sure fire way to get into heaven. The story goes that he came home from school and said "Iron my white shirt mother. I'm getting baptized tomorrow." They even told that story at his eulogy.

After high school he enlisted in air force and was sent to Korea. He didn't have to do this. He had several excuses not to. Polio. The hardware in his knee. And he was the only remaining son in the family (his stepbrother, my grandpa's son, was a bomber pilot who was shot down during WWII). But he went anyway. And he knew that with the GI bill he'd be able to go to college for free.

So, he gets back from Korea (during which time he also sang in the Air Force barbershop quartet, The Barons of Harmony; we have albums and everything) and goes back to Fort Dodge IA. My mother had moved back in town after living in Los Angeles for a few years (that's for another post!), and my grandma mentioned that she saw her at the boy scout office where she was working. So he went to talk with her and asked her out. He called her up the next day and told her he loved her. She took some convincing but they got married in 1954.

They moved to Omaha where my dad enrolled at Creighton. He had planned to go to law school but after receiving some sage advice from one of the jesuits he enrolled in graduate school at Notre Dame and got his master's and ph.d in political philosophy (during which time they had 3 boys in the course of 4 years!). My grandma came to help out and asked my dad "Why live like this, why don't you just get a job?" because they were SO poor. All he said was "We can go barefoot another year."

After getting his degress, the rest of his life was spent in the world of academia, teaching positions, dean positions, up until the university promoted him to administrator. He told me he always wanted to go back to teaching, but that he knew this was something he could and should do.

In the early 90s he stepped down from administration and started a center on campus for the study of school choice. He was passionate about that. I don't know how I feel about it, I'm not sure how you feel about it, but I think you'd be hardpressed to find anyone more up on the subject than he was.

Those were some good years. He was doing research, writing, teaching.

I can tell you without hyperbole that my dad was the smartest person I've ever met. I wish that I had half of his brains, and one quarter of his drive and dedication.

I had the usual issues with my dad growing up. And I will tell you that he was a tough, tough man. You didn't cross my father, you see? So being a rebellious teen didn't go over very well in our house. I'd do it, and I'd get away with stuff, but brother did I pay the price. Has anyone ever jabbed you in the sternum with their finger? That was always the worst. He could get SO angry, and the next thing you know you're stuck in a corner with him and he is PISSED.

He had his share of problems. I love him too much to pass those on here. I just reminded myself that his childhood was probably terrible. Lots of good thrown in there, of course, but lots of pain.

The thing I miss so much about my dad is that he was someone that if I had a question, I'd ask him, he'd answer me, and I'd never doubt him. Not in a naiive way, either. Just that over the years he'd proven himself to be honest and wise. I dont' trust many people the way I trusted him.

I don't think my father knew how to lie. Some of that he got that from my grandmother, who got that from her mother. "Always tell the truth. That way you don't have to remember what you said." Think about it. And to him it was just plain wrong to lie. He was very fair, and he treated everyone with respect, and he didn't have a bigoted bone in his body.

He had a lovely singing voice. He was unbelievably strong. But not a tall man. My dad was probably 5'7" in his stocking feet. He couldn't ride a bicycle (I probably wouldn't have learned after all that he went through either!). He didn't swim. The man never wore shorts. NEVER. My mom wished that he would, because he had nice legs (and he really did, in spite of his injuries). But nope, no shorts. Or jeans. I never saw my dad in jeans. He didn't fish or hunt. Or golf.

I get my feelings about animals from my dad. He loved animals. He was one of those people that animals would gravitate to, ones that hate everyone else would love him. We only had a couple pets over the years, mostly because my mom didn't want any (and my heart breaks for him because I know that was a sacrifice for him...he'd have loved to have more pets). He loved the Packers (even before he became a Wisconsinite) but he wasn't foolish about it.

I could go on about my dad forever. Maybe I'll stop here and do this again next year. Let me just tell you something about him. He wasn't affectionate, he didn't go around telling us he loved us, none of that. We had a somewhat icy household. And in many ways that's not a good thing. But I know how much he loved us. He stayed at his job as an administrator at least partly, if not entirely because he knew that would help his family. He worked at the university because he knew that would provide for our education. I never wanted for anything. I wasn't spoiled at all, but I was well provided for. Strict or not, my dad was always there. He was home after work, he was home on weekends, he would get us up in the morning. It was my dad who would get my sister and me ready for bed (until of course we were old enough to do it ourselves!). That counts for a lot. And you know what he did once? When I was 9 he took me and my sister and my mom on a trip to South Dakota, Wyoming, Yellowstone. It was so much fun. About 5 years go by and at dinner I said "That trip we took was really fun." A couple days later my dad approaches me with this week long trip he planned to Orlando. Disney, Cape Kennedy, Busch Gardens, the whole 9 yards. I'll never forget that. I think that was just about the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me (I know it wasn't just for me, but still, I can't help but feel responsible!). And my dad was so much fun on vacation!!! We had an absolute ball. He'd go on ANYTHING; we even went through the It's a Small World thing. A fond memory is seeing the look on his face when we went into the haunted house. He looked like he was about 5 years old.

As I got older my relationship with my dad was actually pretty close. I talked to him often. His office was right behind mine so I would see him a lot. We'd play scrabble. He'd help me trim my bushes and other stuff around the house.

The thing that makes me saddest about his passing is that I wasn't finished with him. Not that you ever are, really, but I had SO much more I wanted to learn from him and do with him. I never thought he would be taken from me so quickly. I know from his standpoint that was OK. His affairs were in order (he told me he always figured he'd be dead before he was 40, because his dad died so young) and he was right with God, I have no doubt. But for me, my guru was gone.

I miss him so much. I hope some day to see him again.

Sorry Amigos

Hola Amigos,

I went through my last several posts and I realize that I had quite a pity party going. I have to apologize for that. The thing is, this is the only place where I vented about the events of the last few days. So I sort of went with that. But I'm done now. On to better things.

I had a consult with my orthopedic doctor. Have I told you about him? He's drop dead gorgeous. Tall, olive complexion, black hair, brown bedroom eyes, long lashes, great dresser, and probably several years younger than I am. Just hunky in every way, a real dish. The first time I saw him I was sort of taken aback by how handsome he was. It was just a surprise, you know? To see this gorgeous creature when what you're used to seeing is normal to not so gorgeous to downright homely creatures. (Note: I am referring to my doctors, not my friends, etc.; I find all of my friends to be lovely...I just don't have that many lovely doctors).

I joked with friends that at our initial meeting he'd given me all kinds of instructions but that I forgot them all because I was lost in his eyes. That's not true of course, but jeez he's easy to look at.

Anyway, we're opting for surgery. I'm actually very glad. I'm moving forward, you know? And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to that brief moment of twilight you get just as they're knocking you out.

The first time I went under general anesthesia was for my wisdom teeth. I was absolutely beside myself with fear and had been fretting over the surgery for weeks. But they started the IV (I had a MAJOR impaction, there was no way they weren't going to knock me out) and as soon as it hit my system I remember distinctively thinking "Now what in the heck was I so worried about?"

I've been put under a couple more times. I've had 2 surgeries on my leg (which I broke several years ago) and a colonoscopy. For the most part, the drugs are the definite high point of these happenings. The prep for the colonoscopy was almost worth it because the drugs they give you are soooo relaxing. You just feel like you're all wrapped up in a warm blanket. Or that you just smoked a huge bong.

Not that I'd know the first thing about that, of course.

I'm no junkie mind you. Actually, I'm clean as a whistle. But I'd never say that being put under doesn't feel pretty darned good. And it's legal!

So come the second week in February I'll be going in for arthroscopic surgery. It's outpatient, I'll be home by the afternoon and should only miss a few days of work so really, it shouldn't be too bad at all. And hopefully it will take care of this problem and I'll be able to get around like I always could. I'll be sure to give you all the gory details. Ooo, maybe even some pictures! :)

Hola Amigos,

I told a few friends about the whole Jeff thing. 3 of them are male. 2 of the males are gay. Every reaction was essentially the same, except my straight male friend. Here's his response:

"I am inclined to guess that he just didn’t think about the consequences of telling you. He probably thought 'Leslie will be overjoyed to hear that I got the dog fixed!' Not thinking about what your follow up question would be and how that would affect you."

There's nothing wrong with his response, maybe he's right. But it's just so funny to me that he would differ so greatly from everyone else. And one of my friends is very blunt, honest and the straightest gay guy I know, and he thought Jeff was messed up. So what gives?

I could start a study, I swear. "Heterosexual Male Response to Differing Social Situations." PhD in psychology, here I come.

It's getting better. I get depressed if I think about it too much, but mostly I've been thinking in a very general way. The missed opportunity, what's going to become of me, will my luck get better, etc.

But, enough about that. Here's a bit about my trip to NYC. It was relatively unexciting. A good trip, but my knee was bothering me so much that I didn't do nearly as much as I normally do. My friend Therese (I've known her since high school) came for 3 days, as did my friend Tim's girlfriend Gina. And as odds would have it, Tim's friend Brian brought him to NYC while we were all there (for his 40th birthday celebration) and we ended up spending a Sunday together. It was surreal, that all these friends of mine were with me in New York. We started out at Carnegie Deli, which doles out the world's largest portions of whatever you order, then took a walk and ended up in Central Park watching ice skaters. It was a beautiful day, sunny and not too cold.

Mostly I spent my time (that is when my friends weren't there) at the apartment icing my knee and watching old movies on TV. You know, it was OK, I needed the rest. It's messed up my inner clock coming back here since I just sort of got up when I felt like it. But it was good for me.

My friends in NYC have the world's weirdest dog. He's a shih tzu. Very fat and sassy. He's the only dog I know who doesn't get excited when you get his leash. He doesn't react at all. He just stares. You have to go up to him and put it on him, and then he'll go for walkies. He does hate being outdoors. I never get further than 1/2 a block in either direction before he's ready to go back inside. Once I got him around the block and that was only because there was someone with me (for some reason it's less hateful to walk when he's got more than one human being with him). He eats 3 cans (trays?) of that Cesar dog food every day. They say that's all he'll eat. It stinks. See, I've never had a dog that wouldn't eat what I gave him. Maybe it took some getting used to, but they get hungry and they eat. My dogs have never been too discriminating. But this dog, jeez. He takes the cake.

All in all it was a good trip, and I'm super glad that I went. There is a lot more to tell, of course, but I don't want to get boring. Just get yourself to NYC and you'll understand why I keep going back. It's my favorite city.

The day I got back Therese and I went to the Body Worlds exhibit at the Museum. It was fascinating! A teenager was looking at a cross section of a very fat person, and said "How does someone get that fat???" and I thought, kid, it's easier than you'll ever know. There was really only one morbidly obese example. I figured there'd be more, you know, hoping that I'd get scared straight. What they had a lot of was smoker's lungs. Probably because most of the people who donated were European and they sure know how to smoke over there.

Anyway, it was really interesting and very well done. And I didn't really get grossed out or anything. It's absolutely amazing how intricate our systems are. The coolest were the ones that just had our circulatory systems. After seeing that I can totally understand why a papercut can make you bleed like a stuck pig.

There was some sort of Body Worlds knock off showing in NYC while I was there. My friend Rick said that it was supposed to be terrible, and was run by some shady person and he thinks organ stealing was involved. Strangely, it wasn't in Chinatown, which is the knock-off capital of the world. Alas, I didn't go, since Body Worlds is obviously the Cadillac of the dead bodies exhibited interestingly milieu.

I guess some people find BW offensive. It is a bit bizarre, but these people willed their bodies to Gunter what's his name for this express purpose. So...don't go if you will be offended. Nobody's forcing anyone to watch. That was pretty cool about being there. Everyone was so reverent, quiet, polite, and obviously interested.

I actually wouldn't mind being a part of that display, but I figure that with its popularity they've probably got bodies lined up for ages. I'll just stick to my original plan of being cremated.

Done and done.

I actually did block him. It feels weird, so final. I feel bad in a way. I know it's the right thing to do, I just never thought it would come to this. I didn't bother saying anything to him about it, I just did it. The part of me that wanted to lay into him has quieted down significantly.

I'm really bummed about Heath Ledger. This was an actor I really liked in a big way. And I'd only seen 2 of his movies in their entirety. That would be Monster's Ball and Brokeback Mountain. But really, you don't need to see more than that to realize this guy was immensely talented. I remember thinking while watching Monster's Ball, "So THAT'S Heath Ledger. Now I understand what the fuss is about." Poor guy. And his poor baby. It's just so sad. I actually had an issue of Rolling Stone at my desk for months and months (a discard from our collection, one of the perks of working at a library) that had him on the cover. I just liked looking at him, it was a great picture, and the article was very nice too. So I have to admit, his death affected me quite deeply. At first I figured it was just a mistake. Now it just breaks my heart that he won't be performing anymore. Oh, just so sad.

I've just had a sad few days here. Leaving New York always makes me sad. My time in New York was rather sad because I was having such a hard time getting around. My knee feels worse these days, and that makes me sad. I had to come back to work and that makes me sad (and that IS sad). Jeff made me sad. And Heath Ledger made me really sad. He always kind of made me sad, he had such a melancholy way about him. Actually, his character in Brokeback just makes me cry in general, such a sad creature, such a sad life.

I'll be alright, of course. I've always had a tendency to be sad. Not all the time mind you, just that I'm so sensitive.

So, yeah, this is a bit of a downer here, isn't it...

On the upside, I'm going to the doctor on Friday, I just need some progress to happen and he seemed anxious to get me in there to look at my knee. I was getting discouraged but I feel more hopeful now.

Well, this post is going nowhere fast so I'll close it up before I really lose it.

My decision

I've decided to do nothing. I'm not going to write a letter (to be sent or not), I'm not going to respond, I'm not going to do anything. Nothing I do will make the situation better. Nothing I tell Jeff will make him understand. There's nothing I can do but let time pass, and then I'll start to feel better.

He's just not for me. I'm through, I'm finished, I'm done. If he has any sense in him he'll leave me alone. I'll help that along by blocking him from messenger. He could call me, but he doesn't have the guts to say anything to me. Writing has never been a problem, but actually engaging me in a conversation about something that matters would be very difficult for him.

I can say I've learned something. Not that I didn't know this before, but he's helped me see how NOT to live my life. That's something I've always thought when I see people behaving badly. At least through them I've learned how not to act. I try so hard to make people glad they know me. I try to make them happy and comfortable. There is something in me that would prevent me from EVER doing the things that he's done to me to anyone else. And I'm happy for that.

Painful though it can be, I do believe I'm living a better life than he. I do believe I'm happier and better adjusted. I do believe that there can be people who are good and caring, and maybe some day I'll meet someone who makes me forget Jeff completely, who makes me realize just how good and kind people can be.

Before I get too schmaltzy I'll stop. But that is my decision. I'm doing nothing at all. I'm going to get through the day, I'm going to go home, love up my dogs, watch a couple of the movies I got from Netflix, have a good dinner, read my paper.

And I'm going to thank the good Lord (is it passe to admit that I do thank Him? That I pray? I'm not a churchgoer, but I do believe in a higher power whom I call God. Or Lord. Or Jesus. Or Jebus) that I have the best friends a girl could ever have, a good job, a home of my own, a great little car, a family, my health, my pets, my volunteering, The Simpsons and Family Guy...that I can (and do) read, that the sun is out, that I have fantastic neighbors, a retirement plan, a neice and nephews...there's so much good in life.

There's so much good in MY life.

And that's all I'm going to say. May I be struck by lightning if I bring Jeff up here again.

Hola Amigos,

I'm just going to start typing here, we'll see where this goes.

First off, I send my thanks to my friend, Alabaster Mom, who said, in regard to Jeff contacting me, that if anything, this should strengthen my resolve. And how very, very true that is. And I've vowed that it's exactly what I'm going to do. I made a mistake when I removed him from my "friends" list on Messenger. That mistake was not blocking him. It never really crossed my mind to do it, I figured he'd have the sense and the decency to leave me be. I should have blocked him, then I'd never have heard from him again. So that is what I'm going to do. Problem solved.

The small statements that Jeff made to me yesterday, and again today, speak volumes about his personality issues. He's solidified the fact that he's essentially clueless about me and my feelings and that I am right in my decision to get him out of my life. And frankly, what more can I say about the whole thing than that?

I'm not surprised, although I am really hurt. And no matter how hard I might try to impress upon Jeff that what he's done hurts me a lot (I don't actually mean what he's done, but the fact that he found it necessary to fucking TELL me about it), he'd never understand. So no matter how much I want to tell him that he's a completely clueless and ignorant asshole, I'm not going to do it. But I really want to tell him.

Maybe I'll just write him a letter, but not send it. Maybe I'll blog it. He'd never ever think to actually read my blog, so I'm not worried about anything he might find out.

I do have so many questions. First of all, what the hell was he thinking? I'd told him explicitly that I don't want to hear from him, and that I especially don't want to hear about what he's doing in his life with this new woman.

So maybe somehow he thought that by making his message about his dog that somehow that would make it OK for him to contact me? See, if I told him what I felt, I just know what his response would be: "I was just telling you about Googy." You see, I know this man. I know him very, very well. Probably better than anyone, and definitely better than he knows himself. He's transparent to me.

I want to know (or do I?) why he's so willing to be with someone else, and why he was so unwilling to be with me (in the end). Why it is that what was so difficult for him to do with me is so easy to do with her.

In the last conversation I had with him he stated that I was his best friend, that he was closer to me than he was to anyone else, that he didn't love her, but that he was choosing her because she's younger (aka: better chance at making babies). Those were daggers to me. That he's willing to forgo friendship, passion, compatibility, love...to count me out because in his mind I don't make good breeding stock.

And then goes on to rub salt in the wound by telling me about it???

What is wrong with this man? What sort of world does he live in? And what do I do with all this anger I'm feeling? 8 years just down the fucking drain, you know? And how do I reconcile that I hope he's miserable with the fact that I'm a Christian person?

Why couldn't he just leave me alone??? Why did he do this???

Of course, he's the only one who can answer those questions. So I'll write him a letter. I won't send it, but I'll write it.

I know in the end that I am a better person (and that's hard for me to say; anyone who knows me knows that my self-esteem is usually in the toilet) and that I deserve so much more than what he could give me, but that doesn't make these days go by any easier.

Well, I'm off to compose a letter to him. I doubt I'll ever send it.

Bing-fucking-o

Hola Amigos,

I can swear in here, right? Hence the title to this post.

I was spot on regarding why Jeff contacted me to tell me he finally fixed his dog (as I discussed in my last post). My intuition or whatever comes through for me once again. It's a blessing, and a curse.

Here's a message from this morning:

"I had to do it as Jenny is allergic to dogs and we need to prepare Googy to be adopted by another family - which means he had no choice - either neutered or killed...it was the lesser of two evils."

There's so much wrong with this statement, I'll address it later. I just had to put this out here now because I'd lose the information from messenger if I didn't do it instantly, and there's no way I wanted to lose this.

WTF...

So much to write, so little rational thought...

Hola Amigos,

I'm tired, it's late, I've got a million things to blog about, but I just can't fit it all in. I'll write about parts of my trip soon (I'm sure everyone out there is anxiously awaiting what I have to say...I'll tell you this much...not a single celebrity sighting!) but something is weighing on me right now.

I'm writing right now because I just logged in to yahoo messenger for the first time in a very long time, at least 3 weeks, and there waiting for me was a message from Jeff. My Jeff. The one who was supposed to come stay with me during my trip to NYC, the one I was back and forth with for the past eight years, who is also the one who finally decided that there was more fertile ground elsewhere and that I didn't fit into his plans anymore (to make a painfully long story short...if you want to read the whole thing I talked about it in October some time...though I don't think you really want to do that). He's also the one I gave the brush to (I can't believe I let it take that much to finally get me to do it) and did not anticipate or wish to hear from again.

Anyway, he sent me a message telling me that I'd be happy to hear that he'd finally altered his dog.

I actually am happy to hear that. The man has a jack russell terrier who is now 9 years old and never had him altered. I always had a problem about that and it was a bone of contention for us. We didn't discuss it much because most of the times he and I were together there were no dogs, or if there were it was my dog, not his but the subject would come up occasionally (usually when he would tell me a particular story about his JR doing something ridiculous, which thankfully never included impregnating another dog) and I'd try and impress upon him just how important it was to spay/neuter your pets.

So then my old mind started working. Should I respond to this? The good girl in me, the girl who is polite and does the right thing, wouldn't feel right ignoring him, because I was raised that it's rude to ignore people, like them or not. Should I let it go? Should I respond to tell him I'd rather he didn't contact me (which is really what is best)?

Then I started thinking, what the hell is he messaging me for? I'm not quite sure how much more clear I could have been with him that I could not have him in my life, so...what's this message he sends me essentially picking up like nothing ever happened?

Then my mind started clicking a bit more. Let me tell you that this happened within seconds. I don't pride myself on anything I'd call intuition necessarily, but I'm sharp (and I'm usually right), and I think I know what's going on. I'm assuming this probably has something to do with the new woman in his life. Maybe she's moving in, has a pet of her own, or cats (I'm sure his JR would kill a cat), or maybe she's pregnant and doesn't want some sex crazed maniac of a dog in the house at the same time.

I know, that sounds a bit far fetched, but this would be SUCH a Jeff thing to do, to mention something minor and off the cuff when what he really wanted to do was lay some bigger news on me. So then it turns into this cat and mouse thing of me asking the right questions, then him spilling the beans to me like it's no big deal, then the onus is all on me for making it a big deal.

So I'm betting dollars to donuts that he wants to talk to me about more than just altering his dog. And frankly, I know what I should do (which is nothing, of course) but my...I don't know what, maybe my loneliness, my disappointment, my sadness of losing him is keeping me from deciding what to do. I'd be fine if he'd just leave me be. But I don't know if I'm strong enough to keep him out of my life on my own.

Why can't he just leave me alone?

OK, at least I got that out. I'm going off now to get some much needed sleep. My curiosity may get the best of me...but I'm also very afraid of what I might find out. Maybe a good night's sleep will strengthen my resolve to keep him out of my life...

New York, New York, it's a wonderful town!

And it is. I am here and I love this place. Love it. LOVE it. I love flying in, I love taking the bus, I love wandering the neighborhood.

I'm bummed because I have this bum leg, so I'm moving slowly, and you must believe me when I tell you that people in NYC do not move slowly. But it's OK. No biggie. Rick and Bill and I had lunch at Deluxe, one of my fave restaurants which just happens to be right down the street. There are like 4 restaurants within walking distance that rank among my favorites around. So yesterday was Deluxe, then I got delivery from Columbia Cottage for dinner (Chinese-I have been thinking about the Chinese eggplant with basil since I had it about 3 years ago and could hardly wait to get it, and it's just as delicious as I remember). Then this morning (or nearly afternoon, I slept until forever) I took the 1 block walk to Nussbaum and Wu's for a bagel, and then a black and white cookie for later. Then a delicious cup of coffee from Oren's (NYC based coffee roasters). I realize this is a lot about eating, but I've got sight seeing on the agenda later.

So I'm here today by myself, then Therese comes in tomorrow morning. I haven't planned much. Maybe Ellis Island tomorrow? the thing is they're doing track work on the subway so if we want to go downtown we can't take the train between 10:30 and 3:00, and the subway is the only way to get to where we need to pick up the ferry. Well, you can take a cab, but when you can take the subway for free, why would you spend the money on a cab????

So, I'm here, alive and well. I'm also dog sitting while I'm here for a completely spoiled and weird shih tzu. We get along fine, but he's a strange one. I suppose I'd be strange too if I were a dog raised in a place with no grass.

More later.