The town where I used to work (when I worked at Fantasy Disco Ford) recently built a Starbucks. They of course opened their doors a few days after I started working at New Job so I had never been. I got to listen to The Cake Lady and Jiffinner talk about how absolutely awesome Starbucks was. I believe that the exact phrase used by The Cake Lady during her first week of Starbucks patronage was "it was like an orgasm in my mouth".
I had managed to resist temptation (read: the line was always too long when I drove through for me to stop) until The Cake Lady told me about the Pumpkin Latte she had. That was it for me, I had to have one. So on Wednesday, I hauled ass over there and when I arrived and saw how long the line was, I decided to just park and go in. (I think thats one of the things having kids makes you appreciate more: how easy it is to go in some where with out them.)
There was quite a crowd. Over in one corner on a sofa were three older ladies with their friends sat on the chairs around them. In a corner by himself was an older biker looking guy who was, and I shit you not, jamming out to the Starbucks muzak. Then there was a group of what I can only assume were travelers. People who were arriving for the Thanksgiving holiday or who had already arrived and were making the trip to get coffee from their hotel rooms before hitting the road again. The men of this group, two or three mid forties to early fifties guys were all dressed and ready to go with their probably already read newspapers tucked under their arms. Coffee seems to merely be a formality for them. The matriarch woman of this group was the only female amongst them that had on normal clothes and had her hair and make up done. There were three or four young women, ranging from teen to early thirty - all in pajamas and then two younger men, fully dressed but very sleepy looking. Every member of this group was sitting outside except for the apparent patriarch who was placing and paying for orders, a teenaged girl in her pjs and a very cute late twenty-something sleepy dude. The three of them were in line in front of me.
Cute Boy in front of me kept turning around and smiling at me. Under normal circumstances I might have done something more than just smile back. However, with the dude's dad standing right there (he called him "dad" - I'm not claiming to be psychic here), it was evident that it would be inappropriate for me to hit on him, or visa versa.
But the smiling back and forth continues as we order our coffees and then pick them up from the other side of the counter and then the two of us exit the building at the same time and I walk over to my van which is parked directly in front of the front door.
I told The Cake Lady yesterday that as I was walking to my van, it occurred to me that if dude had wanted my number, he could have just punched it into his phone seeing as how it was displayed across my back window, directly under the "for sale" I had written on there with shoe polish.
The Cake Lady's response?
"Dude, you should always have your car for sale!"

As cliche as it might be, I tend to go through all of the things I am thankful for around this time of year and sadly for you, that does mean I am tempted to write about them.
I believe that Thanksgiving is a time to spend with the people you love: your family.
When I was growing up, Thanksgiving was rather unimportant as far as holidays went. It was more a time when we gathered all of our relatives together and shit-talked about the ones who weren't there and why.
The only exciting things that happened to me at these yearly gatherings with the relatives I was mostly scared of (party because I was brought up to fear and respect my elders and partly because god help me if I embarrassed my mother in front of her family) were:
1. The stirring of the gravy. This was the only thing I was allowed to help with at Thanksgiving. I stood, for VERY long periods of time and stirred gravy. I didn't add anything, I didn't even start the gravy, I was only allowed to stir it. But I didn't care because it gave me the ability to eavesdrop and well on my family and all of the aforementioned shit-talking. And let's be honest here, there is a pretty good chance that my lack of cooking skills were evident even then.
2. The pulling of names for secret santa. Oh god, how I wanted to
participate in this! But it was a grown up activity, one reserved for those people in my family old enough to drive. I begged, every year I begged, to be included in this sacred ritual. And every year I was told no. Until the last year I remember going. That very last year I was allowed to draw a name. It was my grandmother's name. And, I completely forgot to bring a present for Christmas. I was literally at my aunt's house where we do holidays when someone said that we were exchanging presents and then it hit me that I had forgotten. That was probably the most grateful I have ever been that my mom saved my ass. She had bought my grandmother a cook book and wrapped it from me.

But you see, it was just a gathering. A gathering of adults that I was allowed to, in a minor way, participate in. It didn't really mean anything to me except that I might get to see a cousin or two that I hadn't seen in a few years and then we could play (when we were very young) or have awkward conversations (when we were teens). It meant something to my mother because it was her mother and sisters and brother and nieces and nephews that she had babysat and known since birth. But for me, it was just another day and I think now that is because I hadn't actually discovered who I wanted to call family yet.
I have now.
I have often said that when Amanda was born, I realized that I had just started a family.
My family.
It was the first time I knew that I had any control over my life and where it went. And while it took several more years for me to truly take hold of that control and of my family, it was nonetheless an enlightening discovery.Since that day, I have realized that "family" doesn't mean "blood" to me. It can and in many instances, it does, but as a whole, I have decided to choose my family.
And most of those who I consider to be family are my friends. Many of you, who I tell my deepest and darkest feelings and fears to are people who read all of this, people who I know or have known in person, people I've met via DASP or other means who don't live close enough to hear my ranting in person (save a phone call or eight a week).
Many of you are people I talk to primarily through email and who I would easily trust with my life. Those of you who call or write to tell me about your latest man troubles (or lack thereof) or about the house you just bought or the engagement you've just agreed to or the state you've decided to move to, those of you who in turn take my calls when I am need of a shoulder or confidant.
If I were to close my eyes right now and think about all of you who are so important to me, the people I love and respect so much, if I were to close my eyes and put all of you at a giant dinner table, I would have a perfect picture of my "family". (And that is probably as close as I can get since I can't fly you all in from all over the country countries. lol) But you guys are it for me. Our friendships are much stronger than the blood ties I have to people who's blood I share. Without all of you, I have no idea how I would have made it this far. Great friends are the best kind of family.
I will be spending my Thanksgiving with someone who I consider a sister more than a friend. The girls and I will be at The Cake Lady's house eating turkey and watching football and just being together. I spend most of my holidays with her because she is one of the most important people in my life, someone I trust unconditionally and can't imagine not being able to call up at least once a day.
She is my family and one of the people I am most thankful for in my life.
She keeps me grounded and sane and reminds me every single day of how to be a good, caring friend. I aspire to be more like her. I hope you all have someone just like her in your life that you can spend the holiday with.
Have a Happy Thanksgiving.

So, my son, he says he wants to be a Pilot. Weyell, we got a cousin out in Hunt who says he wants to offer my son a summer job. Tells 'im he'll help 'im get his Pilot license. Now see, my son, he's real excited 'bout this because that's all he's ever wanted, to be a Pilot and all. So he packs his gear up and heads out to Hunt for the summer.
Weyell, he isn't gone for a week when he comes on back home. I asked 'im, I said, "Son, now I thought you was gonna spend the summer in Hunt with your cousin helpin' out?" And he says to me, "Well Pa, Cousin Jimmy and I have different ideas about "Pilot licenses"."
So, my son, he sits down to tell me about what happened, you see? He says when he got out thar to Hunt, ol' Jimbo pointed him to a stall and said, "You see that pile in thar? I want ya to pile it over thar."

I called him at eleven. I had intended to wait until midnight when it was actually his birthday but I was barely able to keep my eyes open.
"Hey Jane" He always did that when he answered the phone. "What are you still doing up?"
I suppressed the urge to yawn, "Oh, just finished getting some stuff done around the house. I wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday. I was going to wait until midnight but I don't think I will make it that long." I yawned then, turning my face from the phone so he wouldn't hear me.
He didn't say anything for a few seconds and I suddenly had a chill run through me. Like maybe he was one of those people who didn't acknowledge his birthday or it was the very day that his grandmother had died or something equally awful. And I wanted to take it back. I wanted to withdraw my wishes and pretend I'd never called him. I couldn't of course but I wanted to say something because the silence was stretching.
I was to my cracking point. A full twenty or thirty seconds had passed since I'd spoken and I was to the point of saying something - anything - to break it and move past my apparent faux pas.
"You want to go somewhere Jane?" Go somewhere? At eleven on a Tuesday?
"Now?"
"Yeah. You want to meet me somewhere? Like, the river? You want to meet me at the river in like twenty minutes?"
"Ok." It was out before I had even really thought about it. That was the problem with him, he made me unable to think.
"Ok, I'll see you there... oh and Jane?"
"Uh huh?"
"Dress warm. It's cold as shit outside."
And with that, he hung up.
I didn't even move the phone from my ear. I just sat there listening to the dial tone and wondering what the hell had just happened. And what was going to happen in twenty minutes.
The dial tone stopped and became that awful loud beeping sound that snapped me back into reality.
I got up off of my bed and started looking around trying to decide what I should wear. It was cold outside, at least twenty degrees. There was no wind, but it didn't matter because I froze at forty degrees. I threw on an undershirt, a long sleeved shirt and then a short sleeved shirt over it all, then added thermal pants and some jeans and two pairs of socks. Finally, a sweater, jacket, gloves, scarf and hat.
I was amazingly calm considering that I was about to go meet him and I had no idea why. And it was eleven and cold and I had to be up in seven hours for work. But I set all of that aside and went out to the car and started it. He and I were equally distanced from Laurel River. Although on opposite side of it, I knew it was a ten minute drive for either of us. I also knew where he wanted to meet. I knew because every time we had barbecues at Laurel River, we always met at the same place.
I drove in silence, concentrating on breathing slowly and keeping the butterflies in my stomach at bay.
I wanted so very badly to take this as a good thing. But with him, I felt like a toy on the end of a string that a cat bats around. I pushed him and this night as far out of my thoughts as possible just watching the road instead. I could think about it all tomorrow when it was over. I could analyze and consider later. For now, I was just going to drive and see what happened.
I turned left down the road that led to the river and realized then how perfectly beautiful a night it was. The moon was full and shining brightly on the water ahead of me and the stars dotted the sky, their various constellations twinkling.
I saw the huge oak tree ahead of me where we always met and parked my car next to his truck. I could see his silhouette near the water about twenty yards in front of my car. I turned my engine off and killed the head lights and then stepped out into the icy air.
I stood still for a moment allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness. It didn't take long. Even parked under the massive tree, the moon light managed to make it's way through the leaves and branches and I could see very clearly.
I walked down and stood next to him, looking at the water. It was like a black mirror. Not a ripple on the water to speak of. I glanced at him and noticed that it wasn't the water that he was looking at, he was staring at the sky. I looked up and saw a star shoot across the sky. I gasped as I watched it trail from one side to the other and then a second later, another went. A meteor shower. We stood there with our breath coming out in small clouds of white mist for five full minutes, neither of us saying a word. The bursts of light were coming in groups now, ten at a time. I didn't want to blink and miss a second of it.
"You're shaking."
I was. I took a second to try and decide if it was the thrilling sight I was taking in or the cold but decided I didn't care. I'd never seen anything like this before and I wasn't moving no matter how cold it was.
He turned and walked back to his truck and came back a few minutes later with two sleeping bags. He laid one out on the grass and then took my hand and pulled me down onto it next to him and threw the second one over us.
We lay there in the grass and watched the shots fly across the sky. My shaking slowed to a trembling and I felt the warmth start to return to my toes. He slid his arm under my neck and pulled me closer to him so that we could share body heat. I have no idea how much time passed before we saw the mad flurry abate back into a few random flashes across the sky.
As the streaks became fewer and further between, I became more and more aware of the fact that I was laying on a blanket in his arms. This wasn't the first time I'd been in his arms, but it was certainly the first time in a very long time. The last time I had laid this close to him I had attempted to give him my heart and he had declined to keep it and instead had given it back to me slightly bruised. The memory of that night ran through me like ice water and I shivered involuntarily. He pulled me closer, my head now resting his chest.
I wasn't sure what to say or if I should even move. This was so perfect and I knew in a matter of minutes it would be over and I would go home. I didn't want to be the one to break the spell. And as it turned out, I wasn't. His watch let out a singular beep signifying that midnight had arrived and broke our perfect silence.
"Happy birthday." I said again.
He reached down with his left hand and stroked my cheek, trailing off into the hair that was coming out from underneath my hat. I shivered again and we both new this time it wasn't from the cold. He turned from his back to his side, propping himself up on his right elbow, pushing me in the process onto my back, his arm still under my neck. I held my breath. His face was directly over mine, his eyes looking into my own. He brushed my cheek again with his hand and I swallowed hard and took a slow and careful breath as he followed the line of my cheek down to my neck and left his warm fingers there on my skin. I tried not to give away the fact that my heart was racing but his hand rested on the very part where my pulse was beating.
Then he leaned down and so very softly brushed his lips across my own. No more than the wings of a butterfly delicately fluttering across my lips. I wanted to grab him and pull him closer, but I held still. He trailed the same kiss onto my cheek and my chin and then my neck, all barely touching before coming back and kissing my mouth once more, this time harder. He took his hand and ran it through my hair pushing the knit hat off of my head and into the grass. And then he kissed me again, this time not so softly. This time, deeply and long. I had never been kissed like that. I was suddenly aware of nothing but him and I. Nothing but his mouth on mine and his hand in my hair, and his body laying next to mine. The kiss could have lasted a million years and never stopped and I wouldn't have known. But it did stop and he rolled back onto his back gathering me up to him as I tried to find my breath.
I can only assume it was the sheer exhaustion mixed with the utter joy of being with him that allowed me to fall asleep. The next thing I was aware of was that my nose was very cold. I went to reach up to try and cover it with the blanket, thinking I was in my bed, and found my hand entwined with his. Snapping my eyes open, I saw that dawn was beginning to break.
There was a moment. A moment where I tried to decide if I wanted to move, wanted to leave this blanket on the ground by the river, leave him. For a split second I thought about just closing my eyes and going back to sleep. But the fact of the matter was that we would eventually have to get up and the responsible grown up part of me thought it should probably be with enough to time to get to work.
I lifted my head from his chest and propped it up on my hand. He smiled at me and wrapped his arm around me tighter, never opening his eyes.
"It's morning." I said to him. He peeked open one eye enough to confirm what I had just said and then closed it a again and nodded, again pulling me closer to him. "I have to go."
"I know. Just come here, for one more minute."
I laid my head on his chest again and listened to his heart beat.
"I want to see you tonight," he said. "Can I pick you up at six?"
"Yes."
I heard his watch beep again and knew from the light in the sky that it was now six. He knew too and released me enough to let me know he knew I was leaving.
I sat up and looked at him again. He met my eyes and smiled and then pulled me to him for one more of his butterfly kisses and I got up and drove home.

I was sitting on the couch, watching tv when he walked up and stood next to me. Instinctively, I reached out to touch him. Just to place my hand on that spot at the top of his leg, right at the bottom of the back pocket of his blue jeans. Such a normal thing to do with someone you are with. Such an easy gesture. Just a connection of touch to let him know I am right here and I care about him. But, I am not with him and I shouldn't be so comfortable.
Instead, I clasped my hands together to prevent them from wandering off and pulled my knees up to my chest, as though trying to protect my heart. He looks over at me and smiles and then sits on the arm of the couch I am sitting on. Right next to me.
His hand was not suffering from the same turmoil as mine, he puts it on my knee and asks how I am doing. I always answer idiotically because the feel of his hand on my skin takes my words away. He leaves it there just long enough to be considered friendly and not lingering and then he gets up and walks into the other room.
I suppress the urge to follow him, as I have all evening and stay on the couch with my knees pulled up as the warmth from his hand fades from my skin.

Today, you turn ten years old.
Ten.
That is unbelievable to me. Unreal. For it seems only moments ago that you were but a little tiny baby that I held in my arms. A bald little thing that would smile excitedly and drool down the front of your gown. You gurgled and cooed and took everything in with your big blue eyes.

When you were five months old, one of your favorite pastimes was having me fill up your baby bath and sit you in it in the living room. It was just you and I then and I would lay towels on the floor and play with you and soap up your tiny feet while you splashed and watched me. I remember you then, with your small hands balled into fists as you tensed your body up and kicked your legs and laughed. We would often have to refill the water several times so that you could stay in longer.

Inevitably, you have grown so much since then. You have turned into this lovely girl. This girl who is on the very cusp of turning into a young woman. My baby is taking her first steps again, but this time towards womanhood and self discovery.
This year was hard for you. Being seperated from your best friend for the first time, losing your support system in school, that person who is always there with you, never making you go through anything alone. You hated school. You hated being alone, with out Camille. But, you pushed yourself through it and discovered that you can do it alone. I don't think you realize it yet, but that is a huge thing baby. That is a big important step and something you are going to use and need as an adult. And it is just one more thing I've seen you do that has made you grow a little more.

I have no delusions about how quickly you are growing up. I have seen the past ten years fly by and I know that before I even realize it, you will be eighteen and off to make your mark on the world and I know that you will make me so very proud. I know this because I am watching so closely how you are growing and changing. You ask me such important questions now about things like bills and grocery shopping and driving, things that I know you are filing away to be used later. Half of the time I want to give you all the answers and help you ready yourself for life, for being on your own... but the other half of the time I want to tell you to wait. Tell you that you don't need to worry about that stuff yet, that there is plenty of time to drown out your innocence later, when you are older. But there is really no stopping it huh? You are going to grow up and you'll need all of this knowledge and it is my job to give it to you. It's just hard for me to begin to let you make your own decisions and step aside.

When you do something like walk up and ask me if you can have a small cup of coffee with me. On the one hand, I think you're just a child, you don't need any coffee yet but on the other hand, I think how are you ever going to know if you like it or not? And don't I want to be there for your firsts? Don't I want to see your face the first time you have coffee or cranberry juice or jalapenos?

Gone already are the days when you want me to fix your hair or choose what you will wear. Gone is the need to be with me all the time, replaced by the want to go over to a friend's house. Already you are picking up skills that you will need as an adult, like preparing your own food. You so very nonchalantly ask me for something to eat and once I agree, you shrug and say, "That's all right Mom, I'll do it." So very blasé. Not giving away a single bit of excitement over the fact that I am about to let you use the stove as I watch you from the table.

You are embracing the fact that you are growing up, taking every little step seriously and although I often think it is happening too fast, I don't think you are rushing through it. I think you are taking every step just as you should, carefully and perfectly.

Can I remember being your age? So very faintly. Ten was a blur of changes for me. It was the year I left my best friend in Dallas and moved to Hawaii, the year we slept in tents on the beach for three months while my parents tried to find a house for us, the year I changed schools for the sixth time. But the thing I remember most clearly: it was the last year I really remember playing. Real playing. Running off with my brother and playing. That faded soon thereafter and I think with it, childhood. You and I have so very different lives and very different childhoods. I have done everything I can to make sure that your childhood far surpasses my own and now as I watch your childhood coming to an end, I hope I have succeeded.

I know that in the next few years, you will shed the child and instead step into the skin of a young adult, a person who is deciding who they are and who they want to be. You'll change your mind many times as you learn new things and grow, but the first little adult you have in you is starting to show herself in the form of choosing and learning and asking. And I can only hope that the honesty that you have right now about your feelings and your thoughts stays with you and I.
When I look at you now, I don't see this little kid any more. I see this young girl. This girl who is discovering the kind of person she wants to be, a girl who isn't afraid to tell someone what she thinks or to stand up for her sisters, I see this girl who is still unsure of exactly who she is but isn't afraid to find out. I see this beautiful, intelligent, friendly, honest girl that I am so proud, every day, to say is my daughter.

Happy birthday baby.
Love,
Mom

Ok, so I have been the baddest blogger ever. Ok, well not the baddest. There are The Cake Lady and Jiffinner who I am pretty sure have blogged less than me :)
Where are you??? Has been the subject line to most emails I have received lately. And the truth is that I haven't really been any where. I have just graduated into The Land Of The Super Busy People. Oh, and I have been reading the Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon and... well... I'm hooked. And dreaming of red headed men in kilts speaking to me in Gaelic.
So what's going on my life? That's why your here right? It certainly isn't because I am sending out free candy.
Of course, when the most exciting thing that happened to me last week was that I got a package from Germany with our Bill of Lading (something I had never heard of until i started working here btw) in it and the stable was like brass! It wasn't whatever-the-hell our staples are made out of, no siree. It was like the same color as a new penny and this of course provoked much consideration as to what kind of staples they use in Germany and why they are different than our own. And if they get all excited when they get something from us that has a silver staple in it.
Yeah... so you can see, dear reader, why things have been sparse around here.

*I am trying like hell to sell my van. Why? Because I realized I loathe and abhor having a car payment. I think I can actually equate it to being jabbed in the eye repeatedly with a hot poker... yeah, I think that's about right. But it's mostly that I've realized that if I can afford a car payment (much as I hate it), then I can afford to pay more a month than I currently pay in rent and have a fucking house. So, sell the van, get something cheaper and then buy a house.

*Well, it's official. We received the diagnoses from the psychologist and now have the diagnoses (really, for the third time) of Asperger's. This time it's official and now we move on to the next steps. The biggest and most important one is the school. It is imperative to me that they stop looking at her as though she is "bad" because that really is how they see her. And she really isn't bad at all. She is such a sweet girl. But it's time for them to start being more understanding and get the schooling needed for the teachers so that they can better accommodate my daughter.

*I met a girl with whom I would like to become friends. I am sure, that if you periodically check my flickr site, that you have seen the pictures of Trin and Ireland. Well, Ireland's mom is a pretty cool chic. She is my age, maybe a few months older. She has two kids (a son also, who is five) and is seven months pregnant with another baby girl. Which I am unnaturally excited about because none of my friends have been supplying me with babies to hold. The Cake Lady was the last and Evan is pushing three now. Jiffinner keeps saying she is going to pop out a brood of little boys but we have yet to actually see the proof of this. (Honestly, I think she is waiting until mine and The Cake Lady's kids are old enough to babysit.)
Anyway, I think that the reason I felt connected to Ireland's mom (who I will need to name soon) is because she is also single. She and her husband split two months ago. I looked at her and saw myself, almost five years ago. I remember exactly how scary it is to be alone and pregnant and have two kids. Oh - and she is rad. Very happy, energetic and cool chic. So, I am hoping we can become good friends.
Alrighty then peeps - I gotta run. I am blogging to you illegally from work and I need to stop.
Don't give up on me, I have another post coming for sure this weekend :)

On the one hand, this is the bench for the new table that I am madly in love with... on the other hand, she wrote her name - all by herself.

So Snakeman and I are looking at his license plate. It's one of the ones you can get that have The Alamo on them and have only five characters right next to each other instead of six with a space in between. I told him I was trying to see if his could possibly stand for anything so we are both looking and he says that the 96 is kind of like 69 (which is the year he was born). Then he pauses for about ten seconds before saying "actually, it's nothing like 69 huh? I mean, its the opposite. If you come into work and say 'the old lady and I were 96ing last night' then it is definitely a bad thing. I mean, you aren't even talking... you're trying to get as far away from each other as possible"
I tell him that I can't believe that no one has used it before. Why hasn't the phrase 'we were 96ing' been coined? He laughs and says it doesn't suprise him since he had only, last week, heard of "Hallway Sex".
I, having never heard of "Hallway Sex" am curious. I mean, granted I am not really having sex but I certainly don't want to be out of the loop. You know, for later, when I actually start having it again.
He smiles and says, "well, my boss comes into work last week and he is all grumbly and pissed off and so I asked him what was wrong. He says, oh the wife and I have been having "Hallway Sex" all week. So, I'm like "Hallway Sex"? Hey man, what's that? And I'm thinking it's some new thing." And he gives me this look as he's saying it, like it's something that could be exciting. Which I was thinking as well.
"So my boss looks over at me seeing that I am all excited at the prospect of some new kind of sex and he chuckles and says No man, it's when you are fighting with the wife and the only sex you are getting is when you yell 'Fuck You!' down the hallway at each other."
I am laughing, as is he, at this point since I have never heard of that before. Which isn't all too surprising seeing as how I am not married and never have been. He goes on, "So I tell him he shouldn't bitch too much seeing as how he is getting more sex that I am. I mean, at least that has 'sex' in the name."

When you write a post like THIS and link it to... well, THESE or THESE, you don't think that a year and a half later you are going to be on the phone with HIM talking about it.
I did, of course, assure him, that we were in no way at all referring to him in any way that could be construed as a -ahem- "piece of meat".
Right ladies?

After we were finished trick or treating, our rather large group of people sat down in front of the courthouse for a quick break and to let the kids hang out and look at their candy for a few minutes.
Trin and I were sitting on the front of a World War I monument and she was talking to Fairy's son. It probably took her about ten minutes to realize that she could actually take the candy out of her bag and eat it. Upon this discovery, she placed her bag of candy in her lap and started rifling through it. Pulling out a bag of skittles, she said, "Look Mamma! Chimenems!"
I laughed at her and told her, "no, baby, those aren't M&M's..."
She looked at the red package of skittles and finally realizing what they were said, "Oh. Mamma, it's the rainbow! Let's taste them!"

pictures to come this afternoon :)