I had a dream about him last night. Is it because I am writing him and so he stuck far back in the recesses of my mind all the time? I don't know... but I dream of him occasionally.
Last night, I dreamed he was sad. The girls and I were going somewhere, a party or something I think. I thought he was coming too. But he made a comment that he wouldn't be. I was and truthfully, I think I always am, naively optimistic in regards to him... maybe in regards to everything.
I was of the frame of mind that he was out of jail, near his daughters and would want to go where ever all of us were going, to be part of our little family unit. He made a comment that what he really wanted was to go out and score some drugs. I stormed away, crying, slamming the door as I left. I was so angry with him. But half way down the hall, I decided to confront this, to see if I could argue it out of him... much like I am in the letters I send him. I"m constantly trying to convince him that he can leave his old life behind.
I went in and sat down on the bed that he was on and asked him to turn the tv off. In fact, I grabbed the remote to turn it off myself, he didn't fight me on that, just handed it over indifferently. I remember struggling with it, trying to figure out how to turn it all off. The remote was foreign to me. I finally leaned forward and turned the tv off manually.
We talked. I was mad but patient. Trying to be there for him as an alternative to the drugs even though in the back of my mind I was thinking the cause was lost already. If he wanted them, if he was verbal about wanting them, it was probably only a matter of time. I was crying.
He leaned forward and hugged me. And then kissed my neck. For a brief second, I didn't have any thoughts about that other than that it felt good, it awoke all of those feelings that a good kiss will. But then he moved to another part of my neck and my brain snapped back and warned me. But I didn't stop him, I knew I would but not yet. Twice more he moved and finally, with a tear running down my cheek, I pulled away. I buried my face in my hands, torn between too many emotions. I apologized for not being able to accept that from him. He said nothing, didn't move.
It was like he didn't expect anything.
I left him there and went to the party with the girls.

Labels: dreams

I know, I started slacking on the monthly photos... fact is, I stopped taking Manders when stuff at work got weird and wasn't there for the appointments which then led to my forgetting the pics. BUT I took her today and look at the before and after pics!

This is the day she got them on and the day she got them off, one year later.


This the day she got them on and off without the braces so you can just see her teeth. It's amazing!

Labels: Amanda, braces

I am friends with Lucia St. Clair Robson on facebook.
I can't even explain the way that this makes me feel. It's like there is this club and the club is all about the thing that you love the most. You want to be in this club so badly but you have to actually accomplish the thing that you love first.
I feel like by being friends with her on facebook and being able to carry on little conversations with her or watch them unfold on both her personal page and her author page, that I am being let into this club a little bit.
She is friends with spades of writers. But even if she weren't, she is brilliant. Freaking brilliant. I aspire to be able to move someone with something I've written the same way she has moved me with her books. And if I could only be friends, even cyber friends, with one writer, it would be her.
I am reading her newest book, The Last Train From Cuernavaca right now. And it feels different than having read all of her previous books. It feels more connected and for me, more special.
I've not been a good writer lately. With the Cody drama, and the trip planning and the newfound dislike of my job... but every day when I see her on facebook, I remember that I want to be a part of that club. I want to be an author more than anything in this world.

Labels: soul sisters, writing a book

When I woke up this morning, I found myself thinking about a guy. And since I've been such a piss poor blogger, I can't remember if I've even written about him here. And since I'm still waiting on the coffee, I can't be bothered to look.
The guy is a previous customer of ours, someone I don't even have a clear picture in my head of. He's older than I am, but has a good job and as far as I know, no children. He's been wanting to take me out for almost a year. I've not went because I wanted to double date with another couple who has surprisingly let me down.
So this guy called me a week or so ago and left me a message and I never returned his call. I had already just decided not to go out with him in a decision that came along mostly because of my flaky friends and not so much on account of him. But in the process, I realized that I wasn't really as interested in dating at all.
Snow told me once that the longer you are single, the more likely you are to stay that way. I've not had a true relationship since before Trin was born. She's eight now. And the only pseudo relationship I've had since then was the Mr.I debacle. I stay permanently torn between thinking that there is plenty of time to find Mr. Right and wondering if I have wasted eight years that he and I could have been together?
Does that mean I think this guy is Mr. Right? No... but truthfully there isn't any way for me to know since I don't want to go out with anyone?
So as I sit here this morning drinking my coffee, stretching and relishing the twelve hours of sleep I got last night, contemplating apple pie for breakfast; I wonder... I wonder about that life with another person. I wonder about waking up not next to a sleepy, tangled-haired eight year old but next to the man I want to be with. I wonder about drinking coffee with him as we plan out our day. I wonder about being able to talk to him about my job, my daughters, my life... our lives.
I wonder if he is out there right now or if it will be years before I meet him.
And then I snap back and wonder if I am just more wistfully romantic in the mornings and if in a couple of hours I will be back to normal.
I feel bad for this guy. I feel guilty. I would hate have hated being the girl who is trying to get the guy's attention to no avail. I feel badly that I haven't returned his calls. And I justify it by convincing myself that if he were the one I would know it already.

Labels: Dating, My pathetic excuse for a love life