In other news….

I had a mammogram a couple of weeks ago, my first one.  A few days later, they call me back and tell me I need to go to the office with the better equipment.  They need to take a closer look at something.  I had to wait several days for my appointment, and those were not pleasant days!  I'm not a patient person as it is, but waiting for that?  Oh no.

Jacob was good about asking me how I was doing during those days.  He knows my tendency to worry.  It was particularly good of him because he was going through his own hard time - serving on a jury for a murder trial that involved the deaths of children.  I knew he was seeing things he'd wish he could unsee, but he still thought to check on me.  That meant a lot to me.

He also learned that I've been spending a lot more time alone than he realized.  He thought that because I had dates, I was busy a lot.  I haven't been.  I spend many evenings on my own, in the silence that seems to be slowly destroying my spirit, in the most agonizing way.  I don't know that the phone will make any more noise than it has, though.

Anyhow, the mammogram tech showed me the first set of pictures, and that there was a shadow of something in one view, but it couldn't be seen in another.  They called it an "island of tissue."  They took more pictures.  I waited as the radiologist looked at them.  And they took more pictures.  Then, he ordered an ultrasound.  Then, he redid the ultrasound himself.

And they couldn't find what was making the shadow.  They found a tiny cyst, but that's it.  Check back in six months, but I should be okay.  No telling what it was, but they're not worried about it.  Whew!

I had a little coffee date last night.  I've been talking with this man for a little while, and we decided to meet.  He doesn't live here, so we have to do some planning to get together.  That's been the case with a few of my dates lately, that there's an hour or more between us.  I'm trying to decide if I like that or not. At least they won't be driving around, looking for my house.

Initially, he just wanted someone to talk to about nerdy stuff.  There's something I'm good for!  I can do nerdy all day.  Actually, I already do nerdy all day - I can't help it.  I'm thoroughly a geek.  Anyhow, pretty soon it evolved into some nice flirting.  He calls me Temptress, and I like that.

So…what's the catch?  There's always a catch, isn't there, dear Diary?  He is married.  They have a poly-amorous relationship, and she's seeing someone.  So, it's all above-board.  Still, it's something for me to think about in terms of what I want, what I need, the future, etc.  But for the moment, I have enjoyed him.  Face-to-face, he's funny, intelligent, and attractive.  And he seems to think the same of me.  It was just coffee, so we'll see what happens.  I will certainly keep you updated!

On the sexual front, another friend of mine wants me to join a threesome with him and a tgirl, soon.  I'd have to make a trip to the Front Range, but he wants to foot the bill for me.  I could certainly see drowning my woes in a weekend of pleasure.  It's something to think about, for sure.

As you know, dear Diary, there's not much I won't talk about here.  That said, I must censor myself for a bit, due to recent events.  I'll have to table some stories and emotions and thoughts that I have pent up.  Bear with me that if I start telling a story, and you think you might have missed something, it probably is because I've had to skip something.   I'll come back around to it eventually, I'm sure.  For the sake of those I care about, I just can't explore some things for awhile.  It saddens me, but it must be that way.

Jacob and I had a glorious Saturday afternoon at the nail salon.  I have gotten just one manicure and one pedicure in my life.  The manicure was for my wedding in 1990, and the pedicure was a treat for myself while on a business trip in 2004.  But Saturday, we had manicures AND pedicures.  The kind with pretty smelling masks, lotions, and even hot stones.  And a massage chair.  And it was heavenly.  I'm so thankful that we had that time.  I need it again.

I smile every time I see my painted toes.  My toes are never painted!

And I'll sign off with a picture of my sweet dog.  Even though he doesn't want to hear from me, I thank God every day for her love and companionship.

Where is he?

I've alluded to this a few times lately, and I keep saying it's for another post.  So, here's that other post.

I’m going through a spiritual struggle lately. I stopped praying for a couple of years because it seemed all I was accomplishing was to call God’s attention to the people and situations I prayed about, so he could screw with them. I felt like a lightning rod for bad things happening to me and others.

A few months ago, though, I hit a dark place where I realized the only being in the universe I could turn to for help was God. So, I started praying again.

So what’s happened? All the blessings I pray for and the people I pray for get fucked with. Again. Everything and everyone, including myself.

I don’t know what to think, and it's damned disheartening.  Breaks my heart, actually.  Is God just not there and this is what happens? Or has he truly abandoned me? Or does he actually hate me?

What scares me is that idea that I could be making people’s lives worse by praying for them. I've prayed for my children.  I've prayed for my parents.  I’ve prayed for Jacob’s happiness.  As stupid as it might sound, I've prayed for Jacob's girlfriend to have the resources to take care of her children's special needs.  But now I have to wonder - am I causing harm instead of helping, because God likes to fuck with what I pray for?

I've wondered this a lot lately.  However, it's gotten more intense in the last day or so.  One of my constant prayers is for my loneliness to be relieved, but right now I feel that my  very soul is alone in the whole of the universe. It’s the most horrible feeling to have your waking thought to be that even God doesn’t want you.

Today, this is pushing the limits of what I can take, of the burden that I can bear. I'm actually so upset that I'm having chills.  My knees are wobbling under the weight of it, and I fear collapse is imminent.

What do I want?

Of course, dear Diary, I won't be able to spell it all out here.  But I've been thinking about this lately and reflecting on the past.  I've also been trying to learn from the dating relationships I've had in recent days, and I've found a pitfall I need to avoid:

Don't accept dates just because you don't want to spend yet another night alone.

I've been guilty of that of late, and it's created a situation.  I've been out with this guy maybe three or four times.  He rubbed me the wrong way with this conversation recently (caution: TMI imminent):

Him: "Do you shave?"
BJ: "No.  I trim."
Him: "You shave now."
BJ: "No, I don't.  I don't like it."
Him: "I want you to, so you'll do it for me."
BJ: "No."
Him: "Yes."
BJ: "This is not negotiable."

He tried it another time, telling me that if we were together, that 1) my dog would no longer sleep on the bed, and 2) he'd make me get up at 4 AM to go power walking, and 3) I was going to be a Seahawks fan.

Not only no, but HELL no.  Remember dommy Blogget?  She doesn't do orders well.  Or at all.

I'm sorry…but what about me gave you the impression you can tell me what to do, pal?  I might add the detail here that these conversations are happening without sex being a part of this relationship.  I haven't gone there.  Gee, I wonder why I don't feel attracted that way….

Jacob tells me that I have other prospects that are better, so give this guy the heave-ho.  I should mention here that Jacob and I are indeed best friends, as of late.  More on that later.

Back to the situation: I sat at home alone for 4 or 5 days and ended up agreeing to a date with the bossy guy again. I have no defense; I was weakened by silence.

At the restaurant, I went to the restroom and came back to find he'd told the waiter I was his girlfriend.

No.  No, no, no.

He wants to be my Valentine's date.  I'm thinking that's a bad idea.  As much as I hate the idea of a lonely Valentine's Day, I also hate the idea of misleading him or making myself even more frustrated.

In other news, I've had a few dates, but no front runners yet.  I've had a couple of creepers, so they had to go.  Here's an example:

Text from a guy I haven't even been on a date with: "I think I'm near your neighborhood.  I'm going to find your house."
An hour later: "I can't find it.  Give me a hint."
BJ: "Oh because you're not acting like a stalker at all, right?"
That was that.

I do have one person I'd be interested in getting serious with, but he lives back in Texas.  We are friends.  We haven't even dated.  But he's a wonderful person, and I value his friendship already.

Jacob and I were enjoying absinthe and porn one night, and he said to me, "When can we talk about my relationship?"

My initial response was to tell him again that his relationship hurts me.  It does me damage because I've seen her as someone who wanted to do me damage.  From where I sit, she manipulated her way into my life, then stole it from me.  He let her, and it hurts.  Anyone else, and we could talk about it, I said.

He insists that it's not that way, though.  That it wasn't that way.  Whether it's spin or not, it's how he perceives it.  And I'm trying to be his friend, his best friend.  I want him to be able to be open with me.  I thought about that.  A lot.  So, I'm trying - really trying - to see things as he does and find a way to be okay with her.

We had an emotional conversation about it.  I told him I might relapse, but that I am really trying to not see her as someone who wants to hurt me.  And I'm trying to not feel that I'm being replaced in every aspect of the life we had together.  It's taking some mental gymnastics, to be true, but I'm trying.  It's a daily battle, still.

As part of that conversation, I told him that I wanted to make it clear that my viewpoint has nothing to do with jealousy or wanting to go back to what we had.  After all, I had my doubts and frustrations, too, some of which I vented about to you, dear Diary.

So, I said to him in all honesty, I would not go back to how we were.

In the last few months, I think we've learned a lot about what we did wrong.  In any future relationship (not meaning just with him), I'd change the way we communicate, in particular.  We needed to be much more open and expressive and less hesitant.  We did too much second-guessing of ourselves and neglected to say things and talk about topics we should have.  We needed to build a safer environment for that, without repercussions for saying the wrong thing.  And we needed more dimensions to our intimacy, of the emotional and physical type.

What do I want, then?

A love who will…
love
value
respect
desire
want
need
hold
keep
soothe
comfort
follow
lead
work beside
defend
laugh with
listen to
adore
uplift
encourage
support
…me.

And I will do the same for him.

I pray on this each morning and each night.  But I keep getting knocked back down to the floor.  I wonder lately if God hates me…or maybe has already abandoned me.  I pray for my trust and faith to be meaningful, but I'm constantly wondering why it isn't…

…but that's another post.

I'm an idiot….

I've been wondering why I had zero page views.

It helps to make your blog accessible to others.  I had it set to private.  Oops….

Perhaps it will get some views now :o)

Onward into the abyss

The abyss of the unsure future, that is.  I'm at an age where I feel my mortality, the counting down of the days I have on this earth.  It makes me concerned how many of those days will be wasted on loneliness, on having no one to share my life with - or no one who really appreciates and respects me.  I pray daily for someone to come into my life who I can respect, desire, appreciate, cherish, trust, be proud of, care for in all the best ways…and who feels the same about me.  To have and to hold.  Who can promise he won't make me feel the knife in my back ever again, and can back it up with a lasting commitment to making sure we are safe and secure in each other.

Jacob and I had a particularly good day, about a week ago.  We went shopping together, and it was great fun.  He's been feeling his femininity lately, and I do enjoy being able to support that for him.  I'd missed shopping together like that.

Then there's the dating world.  A day or so after The Split, I got one of my regular calls from Bear.  This time, when the inevitable question came, I had a different answer.

"Are you available?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

Pause.  "Are you putting me on?"

"No, I'm available," I said.

He started to cry.  He'd been praying for five years for that answer, and he'd finally gotten it.  He is working 9,000 miles away in Saudi Arabia, but he promised to begin "courting" me in earnest.  And thus, he did.

We arranged times to talk via Skype, generally twice a day.  We'd be at opposite ends of our day, but would catch up on our respective days or nights then.  On weekends, we could talk more.  Sometimes for hours.

He'd say sweet things, but I'd have to rein him in sometimes.  For instance, asking what I thought our wedding would be like was pushing me a little too hard, too fast.  He'd been thinking about this for five years, and I'd been on the wagon for about five minutes.

He made plans to come see me over his Christmas vacation in the states.  He's spend Christmas with his family, then come out to see me for New Year's.  I had a New Year's date :o)

Then, little red flags started coming up.

For example, one night, I explained why I don't go to church.  I won't go into that here, just yet.  I couple of days later, he said he saw that as something he could "fix."  I stopped him there: I don't need to be fixed.  I've made the decisions I have for a reason, and I don't need someone else to push me into what they think I should be doing.

Another time, I mentioned wearing my pink jeans.  "I'm not being seen with you in public in pink jeans," he said.

"Then you can stay the fuck home," I said.

He started emailing me offensive, sexist jokes.  He's actually say in the email that he knew I'd be upset by it.  I asked him why he'd send me something he knew would upset me, and his response was to get mad at me for being "sharp tongued."

Anyone who knows me, also knows that I love Doctor Who.  One day, he asked me, "What kind of doctor is he?  A people doctor?  An animal doctor?"

I chuckled a little and decided it would be fun to introduce him to the Doctor.  I said, "No, he's a time-traveling alien.  It's a long-running show, since 1962.  Each time they get a new actor for the Doctor, he 'regenerates' into someone new."

I knew this would invite a multitude of questions, but I wasn't quite prepared for the one he threw at me.  "Have they ever made him gay?" he asked.  "Because they like to push things like that, you know."

I was a little speechless.  WTF?

As I said, Jacob and I have remained friends.  The didn't sit well with Bear.  He told me one day that when I spend time with Jacob, it made him want to "put a fist through the wall."  He said I wasn't to spend time with him anymore.  When I said he didn't get to tell me that, he said it would be okay, if I was never alone with him.

No, you don't get to tell me what to do.  Controlling me is not an option.

All the while, he tells me that he loves me more than anything, every day.  I've heard that before, so I wait to see how it's backed up….

One day, he sends me money.  Wired it to me via Western Union.  It was money I needed to get my daughter home for Christmas, so it really was quite touching.  "It's a gift from me," he said.  "We need never speak of it again because I don't want anything in return.  No matter what happens, that was a gift to you."  He wouldn't let me refuse it.  Either I picked it up or it went to waste.  I can't stand letting anything go to waste, particularly money.  It was a mistake to take it, I'm sure, but I really needed to get my daughter home, too.  My need to see her won out.

My mistake was immediately evident.  His demeanor with me changed.  His conversations took on a crude tone.  He started talking about what "The Girls" would like from him - referring to my breasts as though they were a separate entity from me.

I'm sorry, but if you want to be intimate with me, I'm a whole package. My worth is not in my chest.

Then other phrases cropped up, like "I want to eat at the Y."  I thought he was being sweet once when he talked about how he'd make breakfast for me, until he said, "Yeah, I have a special breakfast sausage for you."

What a sweet talker, right?  Like the boys' locker room in a middle school.

One day, I was worrying over a situation with my son.  I was really pretty upset.  I told him all about it and his response was to tell me he wanted to hear me masturbate on the phone for him.  Instead, I stopped the conversation.

He later apologized for his adolescent behavior, but I was done.  DONE.

The next time he started in about "The Girls," I asked if he could please not talk about sex every time we talked.  It wasn't appropriate, and there was much more to me than that.  I'd been thinking about what to say, and I said it kindly.  I was hoping to get through to him and make a change.

He got quiet.  He said he wasn't feeling so great anymore, so he'd call me later.  Apparently, standing up for myself wasn't a response he expected.

Or respected.  I didn't hear from him for three days.  Then, I get an email.  He tells me that I must have responded to him like that because I'm not over Jacob.  He said I was sharp-tongued to tell him to back off about The Girls.  And he said a couple of other things that I really couldn't make sense of - literally, an indecipherable string of words.  Very weird.

With that, he walked away.  Good riddance, actually.  If standing up for myself is not permitted, then away with you.  You have to be able to handle me as an individual.  I'm not to be trifled with.

So, that was weeks ago.  I've deleted everything associated with him.  Then New Year's Day….

I receive an email from him.  The only content was a picture - of him in front of a local restaurant.  HERE.  In my home town.

Creepazoid.

I responded, "Why did you send me this?"

He replied, "For the record….I showed up. On the road to Denver now."

Me: "Showed up for what?  This is really creepy."

Bear:  "Sorry I sent it now. Message received. Email eradiated. On the road again."

Eradiated?? Is that even a word?

I can't begin to express how glad I am that he works 9,000 miles away.

And She's Back...

…because Blogget has joined the singleton world again.

That's right, dear Diary.  Blogget and Jacob are no more.  What happened?  in a very painful nutshell, here goes:

It was close to the end of September.  I was still adjusting to my daughter being gone from home for less than two weeks.  I came home that night, like any other night, and he said he thought we were better off as friends.  I asked if there was someone else, and he said he'd met someone but it had nothing to do with this.

Note: Recent posts on his Tumblr have made it more clear that a relationship was cultivated behind my back.  The intimacies began very shortly after we became "just friends."

Other posts on Tumblr have showed a distinct pattern: he says the same words to her that he said to me.  He's following the same sequence of events with her that he did with me.  And I mean, exactly the same.  This makes me wonder if, after three years, maybe I just wasn't so shiny and new anymore.  He wanted the excitement of shiny and new again.  And found a woman who threw the Woman Code to the wind and expressed open interest in what another woman held dear.

Also, you can probably imagine how special that makes me feel - or not so much.  I've always taken a bit of pride in being a unique individual, so all of that is a good blow to my self-image.  I don't feel so special, at the moment, but that also means she's not so special, either.

The thing is, he knew I'd see those posts.  How did he think I'd feel?

I've made it clear that I want nothing to do with her.  He thinks I've "drawn a line in the sand," but I don't think he's considered this:  how could I ever be comfortable with the woman he betrayed me with??  If he wanted to be with someone I would accept, then he should have picked someone - anyone -  else with whom to duplicate our relationship.

He says he really wants us to be friends, and I'm really trying to build that relationship.  He says I'm just about his best friend.  I have to say that he has made me a priority a few times.  However, I'm hoping that will hold, as his interest in connecting with me seems to be diminishing.  Maybe.  I can't tell.  He says he loves me and always will, but doesn't ask how my day has been.  He'll call when he has time to kill and text about some things he sees, but isn't the first one to say, "Let's have dinner."  I should count my blessings, I suppose.

We do have a standing Sushi Saturday every week, and we're supposed to have an Absinthe & Porn night soon, and I'm just hoping all of that remains as meaningful as it has been.

Why?  Because he's the only person who "gets" me, as I tend to be rather complicated.  And the idea of having NO ONE in my life who gets me is even more painful than what's happened.

That said, I do have a confession to make.  A weekend of drinking and horniness about six weeks ago. I don't believe that drink causes anyone to do something that wasn't already in them.  So we drank, and we had a lot of sex.  He posted something on Tumblr that said, "How about a weekend between my legs?" and asked if I liked it. She probably thought it was for her.

We even talked about having a "friends with benefits" relationship, but nothing big has come of it.  The thing is that we still love each other.  It's morphed into something else, but we do.  He said it one day, too, and was afraid he'd made things awkward with me.  Honestly, it's a little reassurance that maybe our relationship still means something to him.

He was surprised, I think, that I immediately decided I couldn't live next door to him anymore.  It took me about six weeks to get into a new place.  It's almost twice the square footage, same rent.  It's cozy and cute, for my dog and me.  The silence is beyond heavy, though.  I told Jacob that one day, and he promised to make my phone "make noise."  He hasn't, though, and the evenings get very quiet.

So, I've cried a lot.  I've railed at God a lot.  I've gotten back to praying, but sometimes I still rail.  I have a lot of questions for God, and he seems short on answers for me.  I'm not sure he likes me very much, but that's another story.

I have more stories to tell already.  I hate dating, but here I am.  When I got divorced 15 years ago, my mother said I was so brave to face the possibility of being alone forever.  That seemed unfathomable.  And now…it could be real.

I can't express how much I hate this.  Writing this much about it has been hard, so I'll stop here and save the other stories for later.

Warning: several WTF moments are coming!  The dating world never fails to deliver - because people are crazy. Or stupid.  Or both.

Bye Bye, Blogget?

(with Ann-Margaret dancing and all)

So, I think we've reached a point where this blog might just need to be deleted.

I have many reasons for this, and I really don't want to hash them all out.  Suffice it to say that things I've said are being turned into other things, though, and I don't want to spend my time defending everything I say.  I've read through recent posts and can see some of the issues that were brought up, but others simply are not there.

But as I said in my last post, I'm tired.  I'm weary.  I don't want to argue.

So, this is probably the big goodbye.  I have to say, pulling the trigger on nine years of blogging will be darn hard.  Ups and downs, tribulations and celebrations.  Iv'e had funny moments and painful moments, all spelled out here.  NINE years!

I'll miss being able to be raw and colorful here, and I'll certainly miss you, dear Diary.

I plan to embark on a new one.  This one won't have the need for secrecy or hiding identities because it won't have the "raw" elements.  Feel free to drop in for a cuppa tea, though:

<URL deleted>

Love always, 

Blogget

Weariness and Wariness

I'm so freakin' tired.  But I feel time running away with me, whether I'm ready for it or not.  So, I let the days drag me along for now.

So much is happening lately.  Getting Daughter ready for graduation.  She's under a lot of pressure, in her final weeks of school.  I have to admit that I'll be oh so relieved to not have a child in public school anymore.  The shenanigans are so unbelievable.  Our district will be going to a practically year-round schedule next school year, which is wreaking havoc with working parents.  When the debate started, I was happy to sit back and realize that it wasn't my fight.  We've done our time.  We're done.

Jacob, though, still has to battle it.  His child is in grade school, but he's working it out.  We've planned a vacation for us all.  A little mini-vacation to Mesa Verde, which will be a wondrous sight for all of us.  I dream of other vacations, things I've seen that I'd love to share with him and his youngest.  Great fun, if we can scrape together the money for such things.

What gets under my skin a little is that each time I mention a vacation idea that I'd like to share with them, he tells me he'd rather go to San Francisco.  Not that I object to San Francisco.  Not at all.  I just don't like having my ideas dismiss, or swept under his ideas.

I see a little microcosm of this each night, when the inevitable question arises: "What are we watching tonight?"  I've stopped making suggestions.  One night, I realized that whatever I suggested was met with a disdainful expression.  As though to say, "I won't like that."

Not even an effort to know about it at all or to try it on the merits of the fact that it's something I recommend.  My ideas go to the bottom of the pile, and it's starting to make me feel bad.

In movies, I generally don't enjoy the horror genre. Or monsters.  Do you know how many of these I've tried because Jacob likes them so much?  Usually, I find something in it to like.  Sometimes not.  The only series that I've had to say I just can't do was the Hellraiser series.  The first one was such an over-the-top meatfest that I just couldn't do it anymore.  And Caprica.  We watched that the other day, and it's just too depressing.  Otherwise, I've gotten on the ride many times.

But I don't get a lot of reciprocity.  My recommendations don't seem to hold any merit.  I've even asked him before buying a DVD, to make sure I'm not watching it alone again.  I really hate watching things alone.  It's no fun when I don't have someone to share it.

Occasionally, the thought will occur to me that he says he wants a more dom/sub lifestyle.  If that's the case, then who do you think you're sneering at, sub?  I wonder what he REALLY wants.

That, combined with his tendency to differ or argue with me about most of what I say, often makes me wonder in what esteem does he actually hold me?  Does he really look down on what I think, say, like, etc.?

This is a conversation we need to have, but the thought makes me even more tired than I already am.  I don't want to argue.  I don't like to argue.  But I also won't be dismissed.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about this lately.  I know he's committed to me, to our life.  I love him dearly.  I need to know that what I think, say, and feel has worth to him.  Need.

Now, to leave you with a chuckle.  I keep telling my dog that she doesn't have to guard the dog food bowls.  "The cat does not want your food," I say.  "Relax."

I was wrong.

Milestones

They are coming too fast for this mama to handle well.  Daughter and I spent a few days at her college campus.  I feel a little better now, having seen the place and the people with whom she'll spend most of the next four years.  She'll become an adult among these folks.  Still, am I ready for my baby girl to be out in the Big World?  Not really.  I don't have a choice, though.  This is how life happens.

Along our travels, we stopped at a bookstore.  Daughter was off seeing what she wanted to see, and I found a shelf of lovely statues.  My eyes came to rest of one of a mother cradling her little baby to her.  The waterworks started all by themselves.  I was trying to dab it away when Daughter found me.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

I gestured to the shelf.  I really hadn't wanted her to see me like that.

"Oh, I know," she said, and gave me her sympathy look.  I love her so.  That week was spectacular.  It meant so very much to both of us.

Tonight was prom night.  Senior Prom.  Another milestone.  I remember mine, and it just doesn't feel like it was as long ago as it was.  Yes, I'm waxing nostalgic lately.  I'm a complete sap, but this is not news to you, dear Diary.  It seems appropriate, then, that Daughter chose an entirely vintage look for her prom dress (hair, makeup, accessories, etc.).  Very 1940s.  I helped with her hair today, then she went to her friend's house to finish getting ready.  They went as a group, which was nice.  Dinner, the dance, then to another friend's house for movies.

Am I worried about what else might go on?  Not a chance.  These are the kids who spent their "skip day" playing board games.

As we were taking pictures of them tonight, Jacob nudged me.  "Are you doing okay?"  I've been sick, but that's not what he meant.  He knows that my heart aches, though I try to keep it to myself.

Later, at home, he's slicing our single frozen pizza for dinner.  His youngest is at her mother's this week.  He put the knife down.  "This is weird."

"What's that?"

"Here pretty soon, this will be how half our time is.  One pizza.  A couple of salads.  Not the big dinners we've been used to doing."

He's right.  Life is going to be very different for us.  For all of us.

Next milestone: graduation day.  She's got the countdown going already!

The Long and Winding Road....

...carries me two states away.  Next week, I go college visiting with Daughter.  She's chosen a college, and they've chosen her, so the match is made and with it, our Spring Break plans.  So, some brief updates before I head out.

A funny conversation with a student this week:

Student: "I can't see my online course anymore, and I need to get to it."
Me: (tappity tappity on my keyboard)  "Was it an early term course?"
Student: "Yes, it was."
Me: "That term ended last week."
Student: "No, that can't be right because I still need to take the final."
(pause)
Me: "That term ended last week."
Silence.

Early this week, it occurred to me that with Daughter graduating, I no longer needed a larger car to haul her bass drum.  This meant I no longer needed a larger car payment, either.  With my car no longer in warranty, it was time to consider alternatives.  Perhaps I could save enough to help Daughter get a car when she turns 18.

My folks have recently worked with a great sales person to get a new car, so I went there.  I found what I wanted and set to negotiating.  My dad was there, too.  He's a stern negotiator, where I tend to be...wishy washy.  He props up my backbone in these cases.

I stated what my payment needed to be.  We negotiated the price.  It helped to know (and say) that a competing dealership in a nearby larger city had 36 of the same car on their lot for $1,000 less.  Then, we got to trade-in and interest rates.  They lowballed my trade-in, of course.  And their initial interest rate was so insulting that my dad about blew up.

Talking to the finance manager was an exercise in intimidation tactics.  The thing is that intimidation doesn't intimidate me; it pisses me off.  Don't try manipulating me.  I dated Ranger.  I know what manipulation can really do.  It just makes me think you're an asshole.

They finally said they could get the payment I wanted IF they could get their company to approve such a low interest rate and IF my trade-in checked out fine.

They did.  It did.  I have a new car.  And it's cute and spiffy and has nerdy gadgets and I love it.

Jacob hates it.  That first night I had it, he spent a good long time sitting in it, poking at things and going, "Ew," and making disgusted faces.  He'd had a bad day, and I was catching the brunt of it.  Bluntly put, he shit all over my parade.

Daughter noticed this and put it in perspective later.  "It's not about what he wants," she said.  "It's about what you want and need to do, so he can suck it up."

She's blunt, but I suppose she's right.

When I made the decision, I texted him and said, "I know it doesn't thrill you, but I decided to get the car."

He replied, "I'm glad for you."  So, that's something.  A couple of days later, and he's getting used to it.  He spent today trying things out on it and not making the "Ew" face.

One more tidbit, and this one made me smile.  I was chatting with my new boss and said something about the age difference between Penny and me, as she's been vocal about being close to retirement age.

The boss gave me a strange look.  "I thought you were in your thirties."

I smiled big.  "No, I'm 44," I said.  To my new favorite person.

Kids these days....

First of all, let me say that I thought "Happy Pi Day" on 3/14 was brilliant.  I will be much better prepared next year.  I was a bad nerd and dropped the ball on that one!

Second of all, let me say that it really sucks to break a riding crop on someone's ass.  That's disappointing.  Just sayin'

And finally -- are schools not teaching about plagiarism anymore??  Every single semester, we have someone who gets caught plagiarizing and is completely bowled over by the idea that it's not okay.  This is the second time I've heard the excuse, "The test was to show my ability to find knowledge, not to say what I know."

Really?!?!?!  Really?!?!?! That made sense in your own head?

You're in college, for fuck's sake.  Why would your degree be based on your ability to copy someone else's knowledge?

A coworker says this is a product of "teach to the test."  They don't test research skills, so it's not taught anymore.  That's incredibly sad.  I think of all I've learned by just doing research for fun.  I liked the movie about Seabiscuit, so I went in pursuit of true-life materials about Seabiscuit and his people.  Have we abandoned curiosity?  Does no one get high from the "Ah-ha!" moment anymore?

My daughter will graduate from high school soon.  It just occurred to me that I've never seen her sit down with a stack of index cards, on which are scrawled references and quotes, and write a well-supported research paper.  I remember doing that for two major projects in high school.  I loved them both!  But that might just be me....

She writes a lot, but not like that.  I'm kind of stunned by this revelation.

I don't always fuck up, but when I do....

....I make it a big one.

I sent an email to faculty today.  I get a response from Penny:
"Did you copy the new boss on this?  I think she'd like to be included on everything we send out. And you should have put it on the blog. We need to communicate that way instead."

For a lot of reasons, this pissed me off.  Maybe it did so more than usual because this day was pissing me off in general.  So, I sent a text to Jacob:
"I've so had it with Penny today.  I'll call later to explain, but she's on my bad list."

Send.

Then, I noticed the text before that.  Wait, that's not a conversation I had with Jacob.  That's the one I had with....

Penny.

Shit.  I sent that text to Penny.   Shit.  Shit.  Shit.

What else could I do.  I owned it.  I sent another to apologize.  I said she did something to rub me the wrong way, and it was a bad day already.  Very unprofessional, and I'm sorry.

I could have said that autocorrect did it.  I could have said she wasn't the Penny that I meant.  But no...I owned it.  Caused a huge cloud of awkwardness, but there you have it.

She came by my office a few minutes later.  "Sounds like we need to talk."

So, I told her that I had enough on my plate without criticism and the stupid departmental blog (which, by the way, is not even published yet).  She said, she didn't mean it that way.  She recognizes that I'm overwhelmed right now and will back off.

All in all, we're good.

Except that cloud of awkward hanging out here.

Shit.  I need ice cream.

Lady Blogget

Several months ago, I received a long email from Jacob, in the middle of the day.  He'd been thinking about it for quite some time and wanted to say a few things.  To paraphrase, he wanted me to know that he treasures the life we have together.  He can't imagine life without me, without us.  That said, he wanted to explore a new private lifestyle for us.

Before I get into those details, I'd like to explain a little background.  It should be obvious that Jacob is a kinkster.  He's had various and sundry experiences, and, through many conversations, he's helped me put name to things I've always found...interesting, but hadn't identified as "kink."  It's definitely kink, though.

What he offered me in that email was to put his life - our life - in my hands.  If I want it to be so, I can command everything, every detail, including him.  In effect, I own him.

I am the Dom.  I am the Mistress.

To begin to test these waters, I developed a short list of "expectations."  I have a longer list, but I'd like to see how seriously he wants to take this before going deeper into it.  At the moment, he wears my collar.  A simple stainless steel band.  Only I have the key to remove it.  That symbolism is powerful, but the real test is how it plays out each day.

Is this a real lifestyle that he takes seriously?  Or a bedroom game he wants to play?  We'll see.

But for now...to him, I am Lady Blogget.

Why I buy skinny jeans now

Because I've been working my ass off.

Son't get me wrong; I love what I do.  I think I'm pretty good at it, too, and there's some evidence that others think so, too.  If you look back at a post I did on February 23, 2012, I talk about what happened when we hosted that professional conference I go to each Fall.  That was the 2011 conference, and it went beautifully.  The 2012 conference was supposed to be in Maine.  That contract fell through at the last minute, so guess who hosted again?  That's right - everyone came back to Colorado.

Just before the conference, we had elections.  Apparently, there were a few nominations for President, but only one name was nominated.  Yep, it was mine.  So, I'm President-Elect of this national organization now, which means I'm responsible for planning the next conference.  I think I can do that....  I'll be signed in as President at the 2013 conference.

Anyhow, so, we find out about this conference on short notice.  What everyone didn't know was that we were already a pretty tumultuous office.  In January last year, we finally hired some help for me.  We'll call her Penny.  She alternates between big help and pain in the ass, but that's another story.  Suffice it to say that her negativity is often wearing on me, and I learned this while rooming with her at a different conference.

About a month after Penny was hired, we got wind of the fact that our college administration is having talks with a company who outsources what our office does.  WTF???  My boss let us know that he wasn't in the loop on any of it, and it was quite possible they wanted to get rid of him.  He told me I shouldn't be worried - I was "marketable."  Doesn't that make you feel secure?  Me neither.

The trouble started years before then, when my boss and his boss started butting heads.  He said it was because she didn't like working with men.  We spent last summer wondering when we'd be shown the door and watching things deteriorate with my boss until he finally announced that he was being "transitioned out" of our department.  His boss, the VP, would organize a search for a new boss, but the position was being elevated to as Assistant VP status.  Apparently, the administration had decided to invest in us after all, but not with him as boss.

Since that day, we've had more direct dealings with the VP than ever before.  And you know what?  I came to realize that the problems we had with her existed because my boss was my boss.  I've learned a lot about him in the last few months, and I honestly don't like what I'm learning.  Especially the parts about things he was authorized to do to help us...and didn't do them.  He threw us to the winds, even when a crisis happened a couple of months ago.  We were on our own.  We handled it fine but support would have been nice.

I was on the search committee for my new boss.  We visited with many candidates.  One of them was so terrible that I still have to laugh about it.  In meetings with me, he spent a lot of time slamming Mormons and then, in the next breath, offered me a job.  What a weenie.

Long story short, I now have a new boss.  She's been here three weeks.  She's a kicking ass and taking name kind of person, and I'm loving the direction she's shepherding us in right now.  Exciting times ahead for our little office.

And as for the conference this year?  Kentucky.  I'm so happy to plan to go to Kentucky.

Putrid

That's the best way to describe how my stomach has been feeling for the last few months.  Putrid.  It's gone from occasional nausea to violent gastronomical attacks that put me down for days.  I've missed a lot of work because of this.

The doctor sent me to have a gall bladder ultrasound.  Completely fascinated the technician when she saw my third kidney. Yep, I'm a mutant.  But the gall bladder was normal.  That wasn't it.

A couple of weeks ago, I took a tumble and cracked a rib.  My doctor was out, but that doctor said I could be lactose intolerant.  Try going without dairy.  That wasn't it.

I called my doctor and said maybe I needed a specialist.  No, he wanted to see me one more time.  In the meantime, my mother hit the Internet and made some interesting discoveries.  One very likely candidate was called gastroparesis.  It strikes mostly diabetic women, is like neuropathy of the stomach, and is often described as feeling "putrid."

I printed that one and took it with me.

In the doctor's office, I described my symptoms again.  This was about 10 AM, and I said, "The thing is that I haven'r eaten anything since dinner last night, but I still feel full."

"I think you've made your own diagnosis without knowing it," he said, turning to his computer.  "Sounds like gastroparesis."

I told him about my mother and showed him the printed page.  He laughed and said, "Good for her!"

This means that my stomach is having trouble processing normally.  I have to change to a diet of 5 small meals a day, instead of 3 regular.  I have to switch to a lot of liquid meals. Break out the blender!  And I can never ever overeat.

I am going for a scan to confirm it.  I get to be radioactive for a little while.  It would be really cool if I could come out of it with superpowers.

New Year's Resolution Going Badly

So, I resolved to blog more in 2013.  That's going about as well as the resolution to not procrastinate.

Last year had some big events that I didn't write about.  I'll try to do a good synopsis here and, once again, get better about writing.  I really, really need to be better at it, dear Diary, because it's a good outlet when things are swirling.

We've had ups and downs, but Jacob and I are still together.  Same living arrangement, with Daughter and I in the little house and Jacob and girl(s) in the main house.  We have our communal evenings and meals together, with our pets in tow.  We have my dog, his dog, and his cat - now that his ex has seen fit to release his pets to him since she's had a new baby.  The baby's arrival seems to have made things a little topsy-turvy for his Youngest at her mother's house, but things at our house are stable.  We have a unique family, but we've formed a family, nonetheless.

One major change on that front, though: his Oldest is no longer living with him.  This was a months-long heart-wrenching saga, that ends badly.  It started when she went on her annual visit to see her mother for part of the summer.  Actually, in hindsight, it started years before that when her grandmother started maneuvering the situation, but this is when her plan came to fruition.  Long story short, the woman has controlled the lives of her children until they are crippled as functional members of society, except for the one who found another continent to be a safe haven from her.  Now, she's turned that attention to her grand-daughter.

She moved here and started having weekends with the child.  You've heard of Disneyland Dads?  This is the grandma version.  The child was showered in mani-pedis, clothing, puppies, and gifts.  Yes, I said puppies.  Plural.  Where would any 11-year-old choose to be?  To make herself feel better about shafting Jacob, she rewrote history to paint our household as one of near-neglect, when quite the opposite is true.  Sure, we can't afford a lot (like mani-pedis, racks of clothing, and puppies), but all the children are educated and supported in their unique interests, and our evenings are filled with good food and laughter. No one wants for love and support.

Long story short (I keeps saying that!), we no longer hear from her at all.  Oldest is now 12 and has the legal right to choose, but someday, she's going to be told no and there will be hell to pay.  I'm sure we'll hear from grandma when she has a petulant teenager on her hands.  Jacob has made it clear that he's always here for his child, but she'll have to let him know when she needs him.

For my kids, Son decided to try living in San Diego for awhile, which is where my sister was living.  He wanted to do oceanography, but the poor kid gets seasick!  When my sister's husband was transferred to Virginia, Son decided to try that instead.  He'll start school again there soon, but is doing well with working for now.  He's 21 now, which bowls me over every time I think about it.  We have a great time with him when he comes for a visit, but he's still strongly independent.

Daughter is about to graduate from high school.  She bowls me over, too.  She's such a spectacular young woman.  I wish I'd been as level-headed and solid in purpose as she is.  A girl of many creative talents, she's decided she wants to be a college professor.  She's headed to college in the Fall, and I really don't know how I'll cope with her absence.  Our relationship is incredibly close, but I understand her need to be her own person now.  It's time for that.  But I'm Mommy.

Work has had a major upheaval.  That might actually warrant another post of its own....  Many changes and lots of hard work.

And another post for health news.  Another area of major change!

Another story is told

My friend has passed.

I can't say much at the moment because I'm kind of reeling.  Wrapping my head around a world without him in it is something I'm not at all ready to do.  I can't begin to imagine what the silence of this night is like for his wife, who thought they'd grow old together.  I've spoken to his mother, who is unimaginably heartbroken.

I just keep thinking of the line from James Taylor's Fire and Rain:
"...But I always thought that I'd see you again...."  I took that for granted, and I do regret it.

For now, this is all I can say:

This is my friend.

This is my friend a month ago, on the cover of smbNation magazine, as one of their top 150 influencers.

He passed away this evening, from cancer.  His wife and younger brother were beside him.  He was 44.

I promise to remember, my friend.  And I promise to smile and laugh, but I can't promise to not cry when I miss you.  

I will tell the stories, and keep them - and you - alive.

I don't get it....

Why do my exes keep cycling back?

Old BF has taken to challenging me to word games.  He used to do this when we were together.  My favorite game was Quiddler, which is like Scrabble in card form, with lovely Book of Kells art on the faces.  Funny thing is that I've never played Scrabble, but I get the idea.

So, how did that game go for him?  Well, let's take a look at that.  I've been a newspaper editor, writer, curriculum editor, and researcher.  I love language.  On the other hand, he reads dictionaries for fun.  Seems like a good match-up for word games.

Seems like.

Isn't.  But seems like.

Poor man never won a word game with me.  

So, five years after we finally broke up, what happens?  A little app called "Words With Friends."  I hadn't heard of it before he challenged me.  I was surprised to have a message from him, but I checked our the game anyhow.  I decided to accept the challenge.  And I've been wiping the floor with his ass ever since.

Grin.

"You're beating him by 300 points, " Daughter said.  "I'd say you were being mean, but it's him."  And he keeps asking for it.

So, why is he doing this?  I have no answer. I just don't get it.

The calls for Ranger have slowed.  That's quite nice.  I'm almost to the end of the contract for that phone, so I can get rid of it soon without paying to get rid of it.  That will be nice.  For a long while, old memories would hit me and I'd see them in the light of the things I know now.  The feeling of foolishness would consume me for a bit, but I'd come to grips with it.  

The words I wanted to say to him would sometimes play through my mind, and then I'd resolve them.  Initially, I'd feel frustrated that I'd not have the chance to say them, then I'd feel better to realize that they'd go unsaid because I'd never seen him again.  And I do like that thought, of never having to look at his deceitful face again.

I got one of those calls for him yesterday.  They didn't want the numbers, but promised to remove mine from their calling cycle.  Soon, it was lunchtime.  It was hot outside, so I decided to eat at my desk.

In awhile, I thought I heard my coworker returning.  Footsteps came to my door and stopped.  I waited for her to come in.

But she didn't step in.  

Ranger did.

"Hi!" he said, like we were best of buddies who chatted daily.

"Hello." I said.  All those things I wanted to say?  Frozen.  Seized up in a rush of very unpleasant surprise.

He was holding two books.  A cookbook I'd once given him and a small red book.  I recognized it as another I'd given him.  It's one of those fill-in-the-blank books that you write all manner of sweet, loving, intimate things to your lover.  They do the same for you, then you trade.  I have the copy he gave me, trying to decide on an appropriate way of destroying it.  Now, I laid eyes on the one I'd given him.

As he stepped in, I could smell the stink of the heat outside on him.  Ugh.

"I'm having to move," he said.  "A lot of stuff has to go into storage, so I'm sorting through it.  I came across these."  

He held out the cookbook, but I didn't move.  "You gave me a copy of this a couple of years ago, but my kids gave me one for Christmas.  I figured you'd like the extra copy, since I know you liked it."  

Again, I didn't move.

He held out the little red book.  "And I found this.  I didn't want to throw it out, but I also didn't want anyone to just come across it in storage.  So, I thought I'd give it to you, to do with what you want."

"Okay," is all I said.

He set the books on my desk.  "Well, there you go.  How are you doing?"

"Just fine." I said.

And he left.

I sat there staring at my computer screen for awhile.  I hadn't realized how much comfort I'd actually taken from the thought of never seeing him again.  The sight of him made me feel stupid all over again.  To look into the face I'd believed for so long, so foolishly...well, it's not a good feeling at all.

I looked at the books on my desk.  The little red one had some greeting cards stuck in it.  That's when I had that terrible moment when you realize what you should have done.  The scene would have been much better if it had played out this way.

"....I didn't want to throw it out, but I also didn't want anyone to just come across it in storage.  So, I thought I'd give it to you, to do with what you want."

He'd hold the book out to me.  I'd take it from his hand...and toss it into my trash can.

That's how it should have played out.  Shit.  I hate missed opportunities to be clever.

Over the next few hours, I thought a bit about what he said.  Moving.  Things going to storage.  How could he possibly move someplace smaller, with less room for his stuff?  He was living in a minuscule trailer.  And how would someone come across my book, in his storage?  He has to be concerned with someone else accessing his stuff without him.  Most likely, yet another woman he's lied to about me.  The possibility exists that he's finally being sent to jail on the child support issue.  

It's wrong, but that thought kind of makes me feel better.

Again, though, I don't get it.  Why do they come back?  I didn't need those books.  He could have just thrown out the red book and not come to see me.  He could have done something else with the cookbook, too.  Why see me?  I don't get it.

In any case, now I have both red books.  I think our little family needs to use the backyard fire pit to make s'mores again.  

I have just the kindling.

Fine. Be that way.

Apparently, Ranger keeps giving out the number he had on my cell account.  I can't cancel it without a hefty penalty until October, but I'll take care of that then.

In the meantime, I have to wonder why he keeps doing this.  All I did to him was take back the property that belonged to me anyhow.  But he also has that bizarre ability to spin lies until he begins to believe them himself, even in the face of irrefutable evidence.  So, I have to wonder what the tale is being told about me that he thinks doing such things is a good idea.

A few weeks ago, I got several voice mails from his ex-wife.  I don't keep that phone on me, so a bunch had piled up before I got them.  The messages were not for me, but for him.  So, I decided to do the nice thing and let her know he no longer had that number, and that I didn't know how to reach him.

That opened the flood gates.  No only did she respond that she never wanted to hear from me, but she called my message a "pathetic attempt to feel close to him by contacting [her]."

WTF???

I reminded her that I was responding to her messages, suggested she delete the number from her contacts, and informed her that her number was being blocked on my service.  Then, I blocked it.

Oh, and I pointed out that if I wanted to be close to him, then I wouldn't have threatened him with a restraining order if he came near me, my family, my home, or my office again.  Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, crazy lady.

Then, I had a thought.  I wrote it down and waited for the next errant phone call.

No, he's not at this number.  No, I don't know how to reach him.

But I know two people who do.

Here's the number for his probation officer...and his ex-wife's number.

Stick. Pipe. Smoke.

Stories to be told

1984. I was a sophomore in high school, half way to my 16th birthday. I'd become editor of the school newspaper rather quickly and suddenly, so I spent all of my lunch hours in the Journalism room, working on the next edition. Alone. I always was a bit on the fringes.

One day, the door to the darkroom opened. The boy who stepped out seemed to be as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Apparently, he thought he was spending his lunch hours alone, too.

And thus, one of the greatest friendships of my life began.

Twenty-two years later, we stood at the door to that room and looked through the window. Behind us stood his wife and my kids. "That's where it started," we said, smiling at the memory.

Many stories filled those intervening years.

Back in 1984, we were complete nerds.  Okay, we still are, but we were teenage nerds.  I remember that he had a party and my folks were very concerned about this boy inviting me to a boy-girl party. Yeah, I know; it screams "overprotective."  They were.  So, they pulled up outside the party house to drop me off. 

"Whose car is that?" my dad asked, pointing to the old, yellow bug.

"That's his car," I said.  Then, we spotted my nerdy friend coming to greet me.  My dad seemed to relax on the idea that this guy was going to maul me at any moment.

That year, he wrote in my yearbook: "By next year, I'll get my braces off, change my name, and clear up my face! You'll never recognize me!"

We spent lots of time together during high school.  We watched endless marathons of Ernest movies and commercial reels ("KnowwhatImean, Vern?").  All the Monty Python we could get our hands on.  We sought out the most off-beat music, and he even made some of his own.  I wrote an article about his garage band.  

One evening, his mom asked me to join them for card game night.  I said, "I'm really bad at card games."  She said that was nonsense and dealt me a hand.

A few minutes later, she said, "You weren't kidding, were you?"  Yep, I was that bad.  Still am.  But I'll kick your ass at a word game.

Right after high school, he auditioned for and earned a spot in a touring musical company.  I got postcards from all over the world.  Funny thing was that the postcards were often of little podunk airports, in the middle of nowhere.  

One day, I got a postcard with a Garfield the Cat cartoon on it.  But the captions were all in German.  I stared at the picture and finally said aloud, "I don't know what this says!"  I flipped it over to see my friend's handwriting: "You don't know what this says, do you?"  He signed it, "All feet are the same!"

When he got home, we had a big celebration, and he showed all of his slides from the road.  It was bittersweet, though.  He'd decided to go away to college.  

I missed him terribly, but visited now and again.  Of course, he came home for visits, too.  And it seemed we developed a pattern: when one of us became romantically interested in the other, the other one would be dating someone.  Back and forth we went, for years.

We loved the movie Labyrinth.  We'd throw quotes at each other all the time.  I loved it when I'd come home and find a message on my answering machine (yes, this was before cell phones):

"One door leads to the castle at the center of the labyrinth.  The other door leads to...bum, bum, bum, bum...certain death.  Ooooooo...." Click.

He had his grandmother make some vests for him.  They had four buttons and three button holes.  Their entire purpose was for people to say to him, "Look, you're unbuttoned," so he could reply, "Dangit!  I lost another buttonhole!"

Delightful silliness.

I have a series of pictures from one of his trips home.  He decided to replace the brake system on his VW van himself.  He and another friend bought a "For Dummies" book on VW maintenance and set to work. I took pictures of them getting covered in grease and dirt, in their shorts and long tube socks.  What's funny about the pictures is that once they took the socks off, you could see they were clean from the knees down.  

They decided to rinse off.  As they dragged out the hose, they spotted me with the camera.  You could see the collective lightbulbs come on, and I knew I was in for a soaking.  Suddenly, his mom burst from the front door.  "Blogget!  Blogget!  Come quick!  I need your help at the store!"

And so she saved me from a royal drenching.

Going to the store with his mom was always an interesting time.  She kept this mental stash of mysteries and puzzles for us to solve as we shopped.  Definitely kept us entertained and out of trouble.  Clever woman.

So, eventually, we married other people.  On my wedding day, his mother came to me and said, "We always thought it would be you and our boy!"  What do you say to that?

He once came to visit me when I lived in Missouri.  My daughter was a baby, and I wasn't in the best place physically or emotionally.  The pregnancy had been rough, and my marriage was beginning to fall apart.  I've always regretted that he had to see me like that.

We've kept in touch, and I'm friends with his wife.  He founded a successful computer company.  About a year ago, he became ill.  Cancer.  He keeps everyone informed of his treatments and progress through a blog.  When his illness keeps him awake, we play word games via our phones.  I thought I should feel bad about mercilessly kicking his can at the games, but he wouldn't want me to go easy on him. He started new treatments recently, with chemo and radiation, and sounds positive on most days.

You know, maybe it's the writer in me, but I tend to see life and death in stories.  Those to be told, those being told, and those that have been told.

He had an oncologist appointment the other day, and decided it was time to be honest with everyone.  So, I learned the raw truth today.

He's going on hospice care.  He's visited a cemetery.  His story's end will come in a matter of weeks.  They're trying to make him comfortable.

At this moment, I can't wrap my head around the idea of a world without my friend in it, without his words and his thoughts and his heart.  I remember so much, and I feel desperate to cling to it all.  I want to say that it's not fair, but I know the answer to that.  Nothing is fair.  I don't want to lose him.  I don't want his wife to lose him.  I don't want his mother to lose him.

Repeatedly over the last couple of days, I've heard the song "Fire and Rain" by James Taylor.  It's one that always stabs at my heart because of one line:  "...But I always thought that I'd see you again."  It reminds me of my cousin, who was lost almost 21 years ago.  Now, it seems like it was warning of another such loss coming - I always thought I'd see him again, and I doubt I will.

Jacob tells me, "Don't grieve yet."  But I'm in shock.  The memories are coming fast, and I want to experience and express them all.  My dear friend. We're in each other's hearts.  He loves silly things, like three-button hole vests.  He loves yellow.  And I want to tell his story, and never forget.