Valentine's gifts....

....drive me crazy. What do you get a guy for Valentine's Day? Especially one as sensitive as Ranger, who has been so sweet to me lately. He's really busted his buns trying to repair the damage of the roommate incident. And he's trying to repair other "damage" I've had, without making me feel damaged at the same time.

He follows two foodie shows religiously. Tony Bourdain's "No Reservations" and Alton Brown's "Good Eats." I've given him every book in their respective collections. Except one - a new "Good Eats" book is out. But he doesn't have a good kitchen to cook in right now, so it makes him crazy to read about cooking and not be able to do it. So, that'll wait. No, I need something special for him.

I thought about a rockhounding book. But he has so many of those that I don't know what to get without him beside me. I thought about movies and music, but he gets those via download, so DVDs and CDs are no good. I thought about a romantic playlist...but we've done that.

We looked at some books that have tear-open pages of his and hers "instructions" for romantic and erotic nights at home. But they are really written for people who live together. We don't yet. These books mean a lot to him. My interest in them means a lot to him. See, he'd tried to give one to his now-ex-wife....and found it on the trash pile. So, if I made a gift of them to him, it would be touching to him because it would sympbolize my acceptance of his eroticly playful side. I thought they'd make a nice wedding gift, someday, when we would be living together finally.

For Valentine's, though? I'm at a loss.

Until I was at Borders with my daughter the other day.

"Hey, Mom! You should get this for Ranger!"

It's called How I Love You. The description says, "Containing hundreds of fill-in-the-blanks and leading questions, this guided journal helps readers compose the greatest love letter of all time."

Oh YES!

So, that's what I'm working on this week, in my copious (ha!) spare time. I'm rather proud of myself this year....well, with Daughter's help!

...who, by the way, is wanting to start wearing makeup. She's old enough, but it's just one of those "where's my baby?" things. We went shopping for it and have had the "Do and Don't" talk, and a few lessons. Where is my baby??

Catharsis

You know, I think blogging is how I deal with Mondays. I can think about the last few days and recap them, exploring as I go, and keep Monday at arm's length for a little longer. So, here I sit. Another Monday morning in my office. In front of me is a hot cup of chai (which I've already spilled once) and a wheat-flour blueberry muffin (so yummy!), from my new favorite hot beverage stop. They make hot chocolate with real melted chocolate bars and cream. You get one free on Saturdays if you show up in your jammies. Does it get better?

I think the wheat-flour blueberry muffin on Monday makes me feel better about the hot chocolate on Saturday. Welcome to my mental gymnastics.

But I digress....

Ranger and I had another glorious Friday together. It started in the afternoon. I'm restricted to working at my desk for six hours a day for another month (due to my recovery), so I'm off early in the afternoons. With nothing else to do on Friday, we started date night very early.

Ranger handed me my warm fleece pajama shorts and a t-shirt as I arrived at his place. Then, he sat me down at his laptop.

"We have pictures to look at," he said. "Fifty-two of them, to be exact."

"Fifty-two?" I asked, surprised. "When did you take that many?"

He chuckled. "A lot when you weren't looking," he said.

We spent time on each picture. I mentally flinched when each one came up. My eye is drawn to what I'd change about me. To the things I try to hide, and that hurt me when I see I didn't really hide them.

Ranger seemed to know that was happening. He'd start commenting immediately and reach in to point at the screen. "Oh, sweetie," he'd soothe. "Look how gorgeous you are in that!"

"Look how this lace lays so perfect on your skin."

"Look at the line from here to your waist. What a curve!"

"Look at that cute ass. I like how the laces from the back fall over you."

"Look at your thighs in those stockings."

Ranger is a thigh and ass man. Actually, he never been an ass man before me. Or so he says.

Yes, I could see what he saw. And it was doing battle with what I saw. I started to cry.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking at him through tears. "I'm trying so hard to let what you see replace what I see. But it's not happening immediately."

"I know," he said. "It'll take some time and maybe showing you these things again and again. But you just have to believe how beautiful you are to me."

"Please don't be discouraged or disappointed with me," I said. The last thing I want is to frustrate him or make him feel like I'm rejecting what he's trying to do for me.

"Never," he said. He kissed at my tears, then lay with me on the bed. Softly, he told me he knew what part of me I most disliked. And he was right. I despise my tummy. And talking about it makes me cry. But he has a very unique patience and understanding with my tears and my insecurities, like no one has ever had with me before.

He caressed me and told me what he loved. He told me why he didn't see the things that I thought of as my flaws. Suddenly, he stopped.

"Don't move," he said. "This is something I've wanted you to see, but you can't. And the light is just perfect now."

He grabbed the camera, talking softly the whole time. As if the sound of his voice would chase away the image he wanted to capture. "You have this cute peach fuzz at the small of your back," he said. "And the way the light is hitting yur backside right now just brings it out. You just have to see it."

The result is below. Pardon me posting a photo of my own ass, but I think it's a little more "artful" than just that. I couldn't believe it was an image of part of my body.. And for me, it's a very bold and telling step for me to be able to post this.

Learning to see

Ranger and I had a chance for a nice little getaway last week. We made it about two hours from home, scouting suitable places for that honeymoon we dream about.

We stayed in a couple of historic hotels, in smaller-town settings. One in particular was in a remote little town (population about 100 during the winter) called Redstone, surrounded by historic sites. Heck, the town itself is a historic site! You can take horse-drawn sleigh rides in the winter and carriage rides in the summer. The Redstone Inn is reputed to be haunted. The hotel is very strict with their non-smoking policy, and we didn't have neighbors around our room. However, Ranger and I each had the experience of smelling a strong scent of pipe tobacco on separate occasions in our room. Interesting because the hotel was originally used as quarters for bachelor miners working in the town.

The hotel is pictured above, as it looks about now, covered in snow. To say the place was cozy and romantic is an understatement. It has a tranquility and warmth that makes you just want to snuggle in and watch the snow fall all day. Our room was similar to the one below and was very reasonably priced at $79 a night. Actually, it's usually $89, but I'd booked a smaller room, and they upgraded us at no additional cost. Gotta love that.


We had dinner in their little restaurant that night. It was quite possibly the most romantic dinner we've ever had together. And beyond delicious. This little place has a marvelous chef!

Back at the room, I took some time to shower and unwind. When I came out of the bathroom, I found that Ranger had unpacked the suitcase with my lingerie in it. We've picked out quite a bit, but I haven't had the chance to wear all of it. He had warned me that I'd amassed a real "collection," but now I looked around the room to find each and every surface just dripping with lovely things to wear. Some we skimpy, some very sexy, and some cozy.

"We're tired, so we don't have to do this tonight," he said. "But I'd like to see you model these for me. I'd like to take some pictures of you in them."

"You would?" I said, wondering what kind of pictures he had in mind.

"Yeah. I want to take them and look at them with you, and show you what I see when I look at you."

But for that night, he picked out something soft and cozy for me to wear. Namely, a soft pink t-shirt and little fleece shorts -- which he apparently found just as sexy as satin and lace.

The next night, we moved north to Glenwood Springs, which you've heard me mention before. We've stayed at another historic hotel there, the Hotel Colorado, but we wanted to try out another one closer to "downtown" (which is still quaint and charming, in a town this size). Specifically, it's in the same block as our all-time favorite restaurant, Juicy Lucy's Steakhouse.

So, we moved on to the Hotel Denver. It's a little more pricey than Redstone, but worth it, in my humble opinion. The hallway worried me. The doors along the hallway seemed very...institutional. I opened our room's door and immediately saw a beautiful four-poster bed in the room, covered with a beautiful quilt. The room was furnished with lovely antiques and had hardwood floors. But what took my breath away was the window. A large, brightly-lit window of stained glass roses.

"This is it," Ranger said, staring at the beautiful colors streaming through the afternoon light. "This is where I want to take those pictures of you. With the light from that window."

He picked out some favorite pieces from my "collection." Things I had never worn before. They were satin and lace bustiers with matching panties, fishnet stockings, chiffon and embroidery. And no, I wasn't completely comfortable putting them on yet. When I looked in the mirror, I still saw the bits of me that I loathe. I wished the pretty things could hide me a little better.

But that's not what Ranger saw. After putting on each outfit, I turned to the mirror to see what was there. This lingerie was indeed beautiful and soft on my skin. I found out later that Ranger took candid photos of me looking in the mirror.

Maybe he read my expression, though, or the lines of my gaze. He stepped up behind me, in my reflection.

"Do you see how beautiful you are?"

I didn't answer.

"Here. Let me show you want I see." He turned me slightly, so I saw my back in the reflection. He put his fingers on my shoulder, tracing the curve of my body along my back, to my hip. "Look at this line. Look how beautiful that is. This is what I see."

He did this again and again, showing me how this pretty thing and that fit my body, and what his eye couldn't get enough of. In all, he took close to 50 photographs that day. In the photos, he pointed out to me how the light played along my curves, my face, my long curls.

I was literally seeing through his eyes. I tried on half a dozen "outfits." Finally, when I looked at a particular one in the mirror, I started to cry. I had turned to the mirror, and for the first time ever, I saw...beauty. Just simple beauty.

He took photos as I stared, running my hands lightly down my body, astonished by what I saw and felt. He posed me a couple of times. I smiled genuinely for the first time that day. The picture shows a seductive glint in my eye. He put down the camera.

"That's enough," he said. "No more today. This, now, is how I want you to feel when I make love to you."

And in those following hours, we learned to be just that much more thankful for each other.

Breaking down, to be built up

A couple of weeks ago, Ranger and I were having lunch together. We were engrossed in one of our many conversations about our relationship and how it's different from others we've had.

I don't recall how it started, but the topic became how words and actions can say different things. See, in my romantic past, I've had a handful of men profess undying love for me. I've had them tell me they've never met anyone like me, that they can't imagine life without me, that they've never loved anyone like they love me.

Then, I'd be ignored. Or I'd be put down. Or they start meeting other women. Or outright cheating.

As I was talking about this, I said, "I really started to question why it was so tough to give me what I wanted, when it was so simple? Why wasn't my love enough to accept and return? I really felt like something was wrong with me, that no one was happy with loving just me."

I looked up, and Ranger was looking away from me. His eyes were sad, as he watched the snow outside. I thought I'd reminded him of something equally painful. He hadn't realized I was looking at him.

I touched his hand. "I'm sorry," I said. "Did I say something wrong?"

He shook his head. "No," he said, holding my hand. "I just realized that I made you feel like that, too."

If you're like me, your compulsion in moments like this are to reassure and say, "It's okay." I didn't say that. I stayed quiet. Yes, he'd made me feel like that. And no, it wasn't okay. It was getting better, but it wasn't okay to have done it. My eyes were misty, so I just nodded.

He saw the tears I was trying to control. He got up and moved to my side of the booth. He put his arms around me. "I never wanted to hurt you like that. You should never have to feel like that. Then, now, or ever. I love you like I've never loved anyone. You love me like no one ever has. You love me like I've dreamed of being loved. I'm going to spend my life making your dreams come true, if you'll let me. I swear. You'll never feel that hurt again."

A few days ago, we finally talked about the details of what exactly happened between him and the roommate. I'd realized that I was "stuck" in some ways, in trying to deal with this situation. I needed to have some answers, and either they came from him or I'd have to assume the worst and see if I could get over that. I told him exactly that.

"Don't assume the worst," he said. "Please don't. That's not what happened."

So, I gave him an opening to tell it all, in a safe environment. He would have just this one opportunity to tell it all to me. The whole truth and nothing but. And no matter what he told me, I wouldn't walk away from him, from us.

However, I had one condition. He had to explain it all. It had to make sense. It needed to include everything he didn't know I knew. If I were to ever discover something he didn't tell me or didn't tell me the truth of, my trust would be too broken to recover from. And I do have a proven and uncanny knack for finding out these things. It was a do or die, now or never situation.

I think he also needed to experience telling me the truth of something and not having the huge explosion he feared. He had a twenty-year marriage, in which he spent lots of time and energy figuring out how to avoid the explosions, which happened frequently. He needs to unlearn those avoidance tactics, to keep things honest.

So, we talked. I heard it all. Yes, it was sometimes painful for me, and I didn't hide it. Seeing my pain, raw and in front of his eyes, tore his heart out. It will probably turn out to be a big deterrent for him. And I saw his deep shame and self-disgust over the whole situation.

I've mentioned before that after he turned her away, she moved on to another roommate, without missing a beat. In recent weeks, her ex-husband moved in with her, they reconciled, and have subsequently moved out. While Ranger and a couple of the roommates were chopping wood the other day, they started talking about her. Turns out she also propositioned yet another roommate - while her ex-no-more was asleep in her own bed.

Ranger is ashamed that he let the friendship with this girl get so close. He is embarrassed to have behaved so badly. He is disgusted that he put me on the line for something so...cheap.

And so, we move on. He told me that he understands that this is by no means the last time we'll talk about it or the end of the issues I might have. He's open to anything I want to ask or discuss. Anything to help heal this. Anything to keep us together, always and in all ways.

Friday, we had a "date night." Our night where my family doesn't expect me home until very late, and they know to leave me alone (except for emergencies). Ranger was really anticipating our date night this time. (And what's written below is why my blog has an "adult" warning.)

"I want so much for you to see and feel how I see you," he said. This is his new mission in life, lately. As part of this, we now often surf lingerie sites together, where he shows me the pretty things he thinks would be pretty on me. And he explains why he picks them.

The reasons aren't just "because it turns me on." It's more like, "This fabric would lay so smooth on your breasts," or "This style would hug your curves so nicely." There's a particular style of boyshorts he saw that has a little slit and bow at the hip. "That slit is such a tease and the bow is so cute at your hip," he says. "And I love how your hip curves right there." I have about a dozen pairs of that particular style of panties now.

In the past, I've experienced men telling me that having a baby "ruined" my body. One boyfriend in college looked at a magazine model, then at me, then back to the magazine to say, "Too bad women like this don't exist." Old BF sent me naked pictures of Ashley Judd and said, "Look how pretty she is." Putting on lingerie felt like I was pretending to be something I'm just not - sexy, sensual, erotic woman. It made me feel foolish.

Now, here's Ranger. Trying so desperately to show me how he sees me. Friday night, our love-making was astounding. He was so passionate with me, so erotic, that I had a bit of a breakthrough. See, I always have this self-speak in my mind during sex. I have to because my body is very difficult to get to a climax. I've frustrated every lover I've had. Except Ranger. He understands that I have to concentrate on what my body is feeling. I have to imagine what I feel but can't see.

In my mind is an erotic dialogue.....that I never share. I moan, but I don't speak. To say it made me feel, again, like I was trying to look like something I'm not.

That night, I spoke. I voiced my dialogue. Ranger has a gifted tongue, and I told him so. I let my fingers trace his face as he went down on me. It drove him wild. And when I returned the favor, I let my pleasure at exciting him become known, too. I also made sure he knew I was concentrating on his pleasure, hitting all of his preferred spots and strokes.

See, it's a little known secret that I'm really good with a penis. I pay attention to what a man likes best, where he is most sensitive, and I've learned how to exploit it. I just hold back too often because, again, I feel foolish to be pretending to be a woman I'm not.

But I broke through that with Ranger that night. I saw myself through his eyes. And there, I'm beautiful and sexy and erotic, and everything I wished I could be. I became that woman. Or rather, I finally let that woman in me break free.

Later, as we lay spent and satisfied, he told I was something else I never thought I could be. The best a man has ever had.

It may seem strange to you that a sex act could mean so much to a person. But that night, a door to my self-image was kicked open. And stayed open. I'd say I'm a different woman, but that's not exactly true. That "other" woman existed in me, but I was ashamed to let her out. Now, the shame is gone. The foolishness is gone. Ranger helped her step out into the light. And I've finally let her be a real, significant part of me.

Update on my favorite Marine

(Uhm...being sarcastic. He's NOT my favorite, in case you missed earlier posts....)

Now and again, I like to look at my blog stats to see how people arrive here. It gives me links to Google searches that people did that gave good ol' Blogget as a result, and they clicked on through. Two caught my eye. They were searches for:

"hating my brother in law"

and

"my brother in law is self absorbed"

That makes me laugh! Thanks! But it reminded me to post an update.

My sister is considering divorce. See, when her husband got back from Afghanistan and had to stay in California for a little while, he took up a habit of going honky-tonking. Every night. To the same country western bar. With the family budget. He even took line dancing lessons.

She apparently expressed her dismay about her husband behaving like a single guy and spending all night, every night, dancing the hours away with other women. His response? He sees nothing wrong with that.

Am I just crazy here? Or would that not bug the crap out of you, to have your spouse out partying every night?

He did this with a particular friend, who is a big partier. My sister isn't fond of this friend at all because he encourages her husband to do very un-husbandly things.

So, obviously, this honky-tonking thing is a problem for her. Whether he likes it or not, his wife is bothered by it.

In the meantime, he leave California, spends the holidays here, and goes back to Cali last Sunday.

And where does he go when he gets there? You guessed it. That same bar. And it all starts over again.

Now, add to this that her suspicions here raised on the day he left here. My nephew says to my
Mom, "Daddy isn't going to the barracks. He's going to move in with a friend!"

This is a surprise. He has to be in the barracks as long as possible because they haven't sold their house and don't have the money for him to pay rent, groceries, etc. (much less, cover charges and bar tabs)

Being my mom, she goes to my sister with this. My sister hollers upstairs to her husband. "Hey, are you moving into the barracks?"

Pause. "Uhm. No. I'm moving in with so-and-so." He names the partier friend.

The proverbial shit hit the fan. But in that hush-hush, don't-let-the-kids-hear kind of way.

Then, he goes straight to the bar in Cali. Wow. He actually didn't intend for her to know. She GPS tracked his phone there. On a hunch.

Her biggest worry is how their middle child would handle a divorce. He struggles every day with mental illness issues. I had a thought.

"You know," I said. "The kids aren't used to having him in their daily lives. You could easily let things stay as they are for them, go through the process quietly, and not have to tell them until it's all said and done, and things are more stable." Well, if their stupid dad will keep his mouth shut, that'll work.

No has has talked about it for a few days now. So, we'll see. More on that front later.

Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!

Last week, I toodled on down to Montrose for a couple of days, to teach workshops to new online faculty at that campus. Friday morning, I toodle back to my office and find a note taped to my door.

"Blogget: Meet with (insert student name and phone number) ASAP on Friday before noon. He's taking online classes starting Tuesday. Needs help and instructions."

Hmmm....

The first thing that gets me is that this isn't what I do. I develop online instruction and teach the faculty how to teach online. I don't do student orientations. The computer lab people do that. If the student has a disability, then the Ed Access department does that. I also built an online student tutorial that's very thorough, for just this purpose.

Second, this just puts me in a bad spot to explain this and have to bounce people to the right person to help them. If others would just figure out what the right process is in the first place, I wouldn't look like I'm being difficult.

So, I sat and stewed about this for about 30 minutes. I get to work early, but no one I can call about this is there untile 8:00 AM.

The receptionist in my office suite saved me the trouble.

"Did you get my note?" she asked, when she came in to work.

"Yes," I said, trying to not sound peeved. "What's the story? Because student orientations aren't handled by me."

"I know," she said. Her expression told me something weird was going on. "This guy showed up yesterday with his mother, looking for you. Someone gave them your name specifically as the person to show him his online classes, one-on-one, and walk him through everything."

I just gaped. If I did that for every student who signed up for an online class....well, we have about 2,000 of those. How would my day go? Besides, other people are trained to do that. I have to sweat the faculty, which is a handful, lemmetellya.

"Who did that?"

"I don't know," she continued. "But this was weird, Blogget. They were demanding to see you and just you, right then. I told them you were in Montrose. I told them other places to get help. I told them about the tutorial. It just flew by them, and they were getting mad that I didn't have the answer they wanted."

She went on to describe their demeanor. The mother did all the talking. She kept telling him to "listen to her," but neither was listening. He was getting belligerent, and Mom was in a frenzy of wanting to order people about, but mad that it wasn't working. And she was mad I wasn't in my chair, when she wanted me there.

I was glad for the heads-up. I checked my online course system to see what courses he was taking. Funny thing, I didn't show him in anything at all. I saw two old online courses, but nothing new. But if he's taken them before, why does he need instructions now?

I checked my voicemail and had three messages from the guy's mother. She called after leaving here. But she'd been told I was out of town. What was she hoping to do by calling repeatedly? And why can't this fella speak for himself?

My phone rang. Guess who?

Man, it was like talking to a megaphone. First thing in the morning, and she was already in a frenzy. I heard the whole thing all over again, but couldn't get a word in. I did learn that he's on the waiting list for all of these courses. The Student Services office is "getting him into the classes." Good luck to them.

Finally, she ended with something to the effect of, "...and he goes to work at noon, so you better work with him this morning."

I was able to explain (in my calmest voice) what I do and how I fit on campus. I explained the other services available. I started to explain the tutorial, but she said:

"He's not a visual person, so that won't work."

Ok. WOW. Then why is he taking online courses? Yikes.

She didn't want to hear anything other than, "bring him to my office and I'll show him every click to make."

"Here's the problem," I explained. "I don't know how each of his courses will run. The instructor has total control over what tools they use and how they structure the course. I think the better option would be for me to contact these instructors and ask them to contact him, once he appears in their roster. They can explain what's expected and required in their class, so he has a better idea of it how it'll all run."

She agreed with that. We're a smaller college, so instructors don't mind making this kind of contact with a student. And it got this woman off the phone.

Oh! And why was she calling me and not her son? He was still asleep.

Something was so weird about the situation. I could feel it.

Oh, and I found out the VP of Student Services gave them my name and sent them to see me. Nice. He should know better.

I emailed the instructors, explained the situation, and asked them to contact him. I did manage to get the son's phone number from the mother, so that would help. Maybe.

On a hunch, I called the Ed Access people, to see if there was more scoop on what's happening with this fella. A disability or some such? If so and he was registered with them, they could help a lot. I had to leave a voicemail.

In the meantime, one of the instructors replied to my email. He said: "I've had two years of trouble with this guy. I told the Student Services VP that I'm very, very hesitant to work with this guy again."

Oh. Yikes.

Ed Access called me back. "Yeah, we know who this is. Remember that email we got last term that said something like, 'If you see this person on campus, call the police. Don't approach him. Call the police.'? It's that guy. They are readmitting him to the college, but only if he takes all online classes."

Can you hear that thud-thud-thud? It's my heart. The VP recommended an obviously dangerous person come to my private office, isolated at the end of the hall behind the noisy server room, to meet with me one-on-one.

Blogget is soooo not happy. Neither is Ranger. He's a little protective, you see.

I talked to my boss, too. He wasn't happy, either. Actually, he found it really disturbing.

I checked the online tutorial. The guy is working through it. He posted a discussion message, saying he picked online courses because the college required it. And because he wanted more time to play with his cat.

Oh boy.

Classes started yesterday. I get a call from Student Services. They asked if this guy's courses require him to sign in at 1:30 each day. He said he can't because he works. We checked it out. None of our courses require that. He made it up. Trouble brewing already.

It's going to be a long semester.

Remember the Alamo!

(WARNING: get comfortable. This is a long one!)

"Remember the Alamo!" That's a phrase I heard over and over, growing up in Texas. My household bleeds Lone Star. I'm a fifth-generation Texan, after all!

At the beginning of the school year, we learned that Daughter's marching band had been invited to the Alamo Bowl, to participate in the halftime show with other high school bands from across the country. They've been raising money for this all semester and counting the days! It's a big adventure for a small-town high school band.

My surgery threw a kink in our initial planning. I wanted to go as a chaperone, but my surgery would keep me from living up to those expectations. Moving very slow, not able to lift anything heavier than a milk jug, needing extra rest....yeah, that just wasn't going to work.

And I had to go. My ex announced he would go to San Antonio to see Daughter during this trip. Saved him the expense and effort of coming to Colorado. I wasn't about to have him and his lovely (NOT) wife hovering around without keeping an eye on things.

So, I had to be there, but traveling would be difficult. I mean...I can't drive, bend, lift, twist, push, or pull. I needed help. We talked about it and Ranger would also go, to help me. The suggestion actually came from Daughter, initially. She really loves Ranger and loves being around him. She was worried about me traveling and hurting myself. She also worried about me spending so much time alone. Her itinerary was pretty tight, with rehearsals and clinics and visiting with her dad. Her free time was pretty well soaked up.

On a hunch, I asked her, "So, this trip. Am I right that you're thinking of it as a school trip with your buddies? And not time with Mommy?"

She smiled sheepishly and said, "Uhm...yeah. That's pretty well it. Is that okay?" She was worried about hurting my feelings.

"Perfectly fine, baby girl," I said. "I remember high school. I want you to have a great time there. I'll be around whenever you want, though. Just holler." She wanted me nearby when she first met with her dad and stepmom, though.

As the trip got closer, my ex started making noise about "his" visitation. I reminded him that this was primarily a school trip, and she'd have to adhere to their itinerary and rules. After all, the school was not paying for her to have visitation with her father. He argued that he was a "special case" and should be an exception to the rules.

I warned the band director about this. Good thing. He got some lovely emails from my ex. The director spelled out Daughter's "free" time. On Friday afternoon, they would go to the mall, the Alamo, and take a riverboat cruise. He was free to join them, but could not take her away from the group. The kids had to stay in groups of three or more. On Saturday afternoon, she would have free time at the hotel for three hours. Again, he could visit her at the hotel, but not remove her from the group.

I mean, look at it from the director's perspective. Who is this guy to him? Is he the kind of ex who would take off with her and not come back? He has rules and must stick to them, for a reason.

Oh, but not to my ex. Remember, he's the exception to every rule. He had a fit and a half. He kept trying to get me to pull strings to get him into the closed rehearsals. Again, these rehearsals were closed by Alamodome security, for obvious reasons. But even they should have made an exception for him.

And me pull strings? There aren't any to pull. These are rules made by The Powers That Be. I'm just a mommy.

I bought Daughter her own set of luggage. Nothing fancy, but sturdy enough to get her through high school trips for the next four years. It's bright purple. She's in love with it.

Our flight was chartered from Grand Junction to San Antonio. We left at 11:00 PM on Tuesday, December 29th, amid a fresh dumping of snow in the Grand Valley. I was so thankful for Ranger. Every time I turned around, there was something I wasn't allowed to do. He watched out and took care of me, every step of the way.

We arrived in San Antonio in the wee hours of Wednesday. We stayed at a different hotel than the band. I picked a hotel close to Daughter's activities. Something central. So, Ranger and I checked into the Marriott Riverwalk at nearly 4:00 AM. On the twentieth floor, with a balcony overlooking the Riverwalk. We'd be able to see New Year's fireworks from that balcony, too. The room was beautiful and comfortable. The setting was perfect for us to rest and relax, rediscover each other, and do a little healing.

I bought some very sexy lingerie, too. I'd put it in a bag, closed it up, and had Ranger pack it in his suitcase. I didn't want all the nosey people in my house getting into it. When we got to San Antonio, he confessed that he hadn't been able to resist peeking in the bag. He was completely blown away by what he saw.

"You bought that just for me?" he asked. He'd noticed the items still had tags on them.

"Yes," I said. "With just you in mind."

He started to tear up. "No one has ever done that for me before," he said. "No one has 'dressed' for just me, with what I like in mind." It meant more to him than I could have imagined. In his mind, he's never been "special" to anyone. Until now.

He also teared up because he realized that he was indeed very special to me, and he had taken that for granted and hurt me. He reiterated that he wanted to spend the rest of his life showing me how special I am to him, and proving that no one could ever come between us again.

The pic here is the view from my room, overlooking the Riverwalk. It was just lovely! Newly-remodeled Marriott rooms have cushy beds and bedding, big soft chairs, and media centers, where you can plug all kinds of media into the TV. With that in mind, we brought lots of movies and TV shows we have in digital format, to watch together. See, with us, the romantic times are when we're out together, or when we're making love, or when we're just cuddled up watching TV. It's the big moments and little ones that matter, all together. I find joy in the most mundane moments, though.

Besides, although I was up for some physical activity, I still needed lots of downtime. I mean, for pity sake, I wasn't even allow to drive yet.

And Ranger planned on taking care of me in all respects. We showered together that night and slipped into the comfortable bed to sleep. No really. We slept. We were exhausted from a long day and night.

We got up and around late that morning and went to the hotel restaurant, which served breakfast all day. There, Ranger discovered something new: real chorizo. It dawned on him that we were now deep in the heart of Texas, among authentic Mexican culture and, more importantly, Mexican food. He spent the rest of the trip pursuing great chorizo, like he'd never have it again!

We wandered over to Daughter's band rehearsal at a nearby high school field. We got out of the way when they started serving lunch to the kids. She'd text me in a little while to let me know what they were doing that afternoon. Ranger and I went to Market Square, where I did a little souvenir shopping for the folks back home. Just can't beat the prices there! The text came from Daughter, who turned out to be in the same market as us. We met up with her little group and shopped. She got this great Baja hoodie in her school colors, for $10. Too cool!

I saw the band director and said, "I understand you've had some lovely emails with my ex."

He rolled his eyes and laughed, "Oh yeah!"

I reassured him that Daughter and I were on the same page he was. She understood the rules and the reason for them. She was committed to sticking to them. He thanked me for that, saying it was a relief that at least we understood where he was coming from.

My ex called me later, to see if I'd pulled those strings yet. I explained that there weren't any to pull. Again.

"Well, we're coming in Friday," he said. "I'd like to see their band competition and the rehearsals."

This irked me because he had a copy of her itinerary. "Uhm, that's a problem," I said. "Her competition is Thursday and the rehearsals are closed. Still."

He wasn't happy with me, but what else is new?

I'd run out of energy, so we made our way back to the hotel for a nap. Ranger and I cuddled up close and snoozed. It was delightful. Pure bliss.

Later in the afternoon, we went to something I haven't been to since college -- a pep rally. Texas Tech and Michigan State had a shared pep rally on the river, by the Rivercenter Mall. I warned Ranger of something.

"Texas Tech fans are obnoxious," I said. He nodded. "No," I said. "Really. Mark my words." I told him about the more recent "tradition" of drying out tortillas to throw during football games. The fans at the pep rally didn't let me down.

I pointed out Raider Red, the mascot with an uncanny resemblance to Yosemite Sam. See what I mean in the pic to the right (and no, I don't know anyone in that picture)? Cheerleaders everywhere. During Tech's "turn" to rally, the fans were exceptionally loud. The Michigan State fans looked a little taken aback. Welcome to Texas football.

The bands floated to the rally on riverboats, with the teams in boats behind them. As the Michigan State players floated by, Tech fans pointed and shouted things like "You're going down, bubba!" When the Tech players went by, Tech fans cheered....and Michigan State fans were politely quite. Oh boy.

Ranger was beginning to understand what I meant. Here's the video.

That night, we wandered across the street to the other Marriott, to a place called Sazo's. It sucked. Big time. The food was horrible. The atmosphere ruined by employees dumping our silverware trays, then heading to the bar to party with each other. I'm not one to be very silent on this, so I made my opinions known. Luckily, the manager was receptive and handled it nicely.

The next day was New Year's Eve. We started to see more crowds. We saw more red-and-black clothes and more green-and-white clothes. The football fans were arriving. We took a riverboat tour along the Riverwalk. Those are interesting during the day, and romantic at night. We planned on taking the romantic route that evening, when we headed out to celebrate the New Year.

Daughter would be attending a New Year's dinner and dance for all the bands participating in the Alamo Bowl show. It was closed to all non-chaperone adults, so I saw her at her competition that day. We hugged and wished Happy New Year. She was having a ball, and I was so glad to see that! She's just grown so independent, so fast. ((sigh))

We picked our New Year's dinner carefully. See, there's this chain of barbecue restaurants in Texas, and they are near and dear to my heart. My uncle worked for them when they started up and brought with him some family recipes. These recipes were from my great-grandparents, who came to this country in the early 1900s and settled in Detroit, where they met. By the time it was all said and done, they owned a chain of 18 bakeries there. My uncle brought their recipes for homemade bread and potato salad to the restaurant.

When he left, the chain tried to keep him from taking the recipes with him. He won the court battle, but they also retained the recipes. They use them to this day.

One of these restaurants was in Lubbock, but closed to all but catering business. Imagine my delight to find one on the Riverwalk! I could hardly wait to share this with Ranger, who you know is as much of a foodie as I am. To be able to taste my great-grandparents' cooking, decades after they've gone from this world....well, that's pretty dang special.

I dressed in an outfit I'd picked just for that night. Enough sex appeal to keep Ranger wishing we were back at the hotel, but not enough to be skanky. Skanky just isn't me. So, we wandered to the river and flagged down a water taxi. He explained that it was a long route to where we wanted to be, but we didn't mind. We paid the $5 fare, and settled into seats on the bench.

It was a perfect moment. One that has become a place of serenity for me, when chaos surrounds me. The breeze on the water was nippy, so I leaned back into Ranger's chest. He put his arms around me, holding me close. Soft kisses on my cheek, as we drifted under tree branches dripping with Chrismas lights.

People on the shore shouted "Happy New Year!" and we waved back. Some shouted "Guns Up!" -- the Texas Tech battle call. I made my obligatory "guns up" sign back, as a good alum should, and Ranger laughed. He never went to a college with a football team, let alone in Texas, so the Public Displays of School Spirit were cracking him up.

We docked at the restaurant and made our way to the host stand, to be addd to the list. Then, we found seats at the bar while we waited. Ranger hovered over me, acting as my buffer from a jostling crowd. He was my protector that night, but when he looked at me, his eyes almost filled with tears. "You're so beautiful tonight," he kept saying. He absently stroked my hair, which was falling in soft curls from the humidity.

Dinner was delightful. Good, old-fashioned Texas barbecue, with my great-grandparents' bread and potato salad, and cool sweet tea. Perfection. Neither of us could finish our plates. I took a picture of Ranger at the point of giving up, uploading it to my Facebook page. His daughter commented immediately that she "liked" it. (A sidenote here: she loves me....she actually listed me as "mother" on her little family tree on Facebook.)

We did a little shopping next door at the Hard Rock Cafe shop. Daughter has souvenir drumsticks from each Hard Rock location I've visited, so I couldn't skip this sidetrip!

We caught the water taxi again, and enjoyed the ride back to the hotel. The water lulled us a little with our full tummies and cozy warmth. We strolled back up to the hotel, up to the 20th floor, where we put out the Do Not Disturb sign and shed clothing along the path to the bed.

As per our request, the hotel had delivered an iced bottle of sparkling wine and chocolate-dipped strawberries. We were too full to break into that, though. We nestled into the big soft bed and watched "Six Feet Under," until the fullness could subside. We lost track of time. I became aware of a ruckus outside the hotel.

"What is all that?"

Ranger looked at the clock. "Three minutes to midnight!" Quickly, we cracked open the bubbly, poured two glasses, grabbed our robes, and stepped out on the balcony.

This video is rough, but it's what we saw that night. I've never seen anything quite like it! The horizon filled with the blossoming of fireworks, all around the city. The traffic below stopped. Cars honked. People yelled. We heard music from the carnival nearby. Simply, amazing!

Click here to go to the YouTube video of what I saw from my hotel balcony. Like I said, it's rough, but you get the idea!

We kissed. We sipped our wine. "This will be our year," Ranger said. "I promise. I will make you believe in everything again, I swear. You are my world. You are my everything."

"Just me?" I asked. "I'm enough for you?"

"More than enough," he said. "I promise you. Always, and in all ways." His eyes were earnest, almost piercing in how he looked at me. There was a desperation there, too, searching for signs that I believed him.

"I need to feel that again," I said. "I think we're starting to mend it. But it can't be broken ever again." He nodded. He understood what I was telling him.

We watched the flash of the fireworks at the Tower of the Americas. Simply stunning. I got a "Happy New Year, Mom! I love you!" text from Daughter, and said goodnight to her. 2010 was officially underway.

We lazed about on New Year's Day. We made love and ate a late breakfast. Daughter was going to text me when they left their hotel, so we could meet her and her friends for lunch at the mall. The text came, and we headed out. I spotted Daughter in the outdoor part of the food court. As I walked through the door, I noticed my weeble-shaped ex-husband standing beside her. His younger daughter was with him.

Okay, so here's Petty Laugh #1 for the day: he's been telling me that he weighs near 300 pounds, "But it's all muscle because I work out." See him just then, I can tell you weebles do not have 300 pounds of muscle.

I opened the door. One of Daughter's friends looked up at me, and hollered, "Mommy!" Ranger laughed. Weeble frowned. He does that a lot. I said hello and hugged Daughter. I said hello to Weeble and his little daughter. I introduced Ranger. We talked with Daughter about their plans for the afternoon. They were going to the Alamo and taking a riverboat cruise. We were all welcome to come along.

Here's Petty Laugh #2 for the day: a blobby woman appeared by Weeble's side. I wondered why this stranger had no respect for personal space, then realized it was his wife. Looks like the universe has a sick sense of humor, and all the weight I've lost has appeared on the woman who is so mean to my child. Gotta love that.

She was preoccupied with two things. The pigeons perched overhead and Ranger. She looked him up and down, almost to the point of being rude. However, my ex was doing the same thing to me. As I spoke, he never made eye contact. His gaze wandered up and down my side, making me very uncomfortable. Thankfully, it was time to meet the rest of the band group for the Alamo tour, so we al took off for the meeting spot. Weeble's wife decided to stay behind and shop.

I've been to the Alamo many times. Ranger never has. Daughter's friends never had. I loved watching her be the "expert" on this part of Texas history. I lagged behind, to give her time with her dad. He hadn't seen her in a year and a half, so I gave them space to visit all they wanted.

Ranger soaked up all the history. He loved the displays of archeological finds from the Alamo grounds. He studied all the dioramas. It was fun to watch him. Sometimes, I looked up, and fund he was watching me, though. That was nice.

When we gathered the troops again, I told Daughter that we'd been on the riverboat cruise, so I'd let her have the time with her dad. She was happy with that, kissing me on the cheek before bounding off with her friends. We'd meet again for dinner, when the group went to Fuddrucker's.

But her dad didn't go with her. He stayed behind. He had complained about not having enough time with her, yet he was skipping a big part of it. His daughter chatted with me while he took a phone call. It was his wife. She was quite upset.

Guess why? Oh, this is too good. High-five to the universe.

A pigeon pooped on her.

Petty Laugh #3 is the biggest one yet.

He went off for awhile on one of his political rants, regurgitated from Rush Limbaugh. Then, he took off to go help his wife buy a new, poop-free shirt.

We saw them again at the restaurant. They'd finished their dinner before Daughter got there and decided not to wait for her. Ranger and I waited, and she was happy to see us. She's learned that her dad sometimes doesn't follow through on promises, so she let his absence roll off her back. However, Petty Laugh #3 made her day.

The next day was Game Day. The kids went back to their hotel for some much-needed rest. Ranger and I had another blissfully quiet evening, with pretty lingerie and soft touches, and lots of passion.

Passion that was sometimes interrupted by Texas Tech Red Raider fans. All night, from the riverwalk 20 stories below, we heard choruses of "RAI-DER!" answered with a matching chorus of "POW-ER!" All night. "RAI-DER! POW-ER!" I had to laugh. Ranger was dumbfounded.

I knew I wouldn't see Daughter on game day. We texted a lot. I'd see her through the lense of my camera, as she marched on the field. Could I be more proud? No way. I was about to burst as it was.

Daughter had three hours of free time at her hotel that afternoon. Her dad had claimed the time to visit with her. I agreed to just stay out of the way.

About an hour into that free time, my ex calls me to ask my son's t-shirt size. "Where are you?" I said.

"At the alumni stuff Tech set up," he said.

The alumni stuff was next door to my hotel. A long way from where Daughter was having her free time.

"Aren't you supposed to be visiting Daughter?" I asked.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I'll go over there in a bit."

Okay, so he kicked and screamed about having time with her. When he gets it, he's not there. How disappointing, but how typical. I checked on Daughter. She was fine. She's learned about her dad too well.

Ranger and I rode the shuttle bus to the game. We were the first fans on. Next stop, a few more red-and-black fans. Next stop, three green-and-white fans. Then, we pulled up to a loaded bus stop.

"Better like your seats," the driver said. "We're about to load this bus."

He looked at the waiting crowd. A sea of red. "You folks wearing green, good luck." We laughed.

When game time arrived, I was getting goosebumps. I'd forgotten the fever-pitch of a Red Raider game. Raider Red strutting the field, his guns loaded up with charges, like mini-cannons. Saddle Tramps lined up to greet the entering team. (Saddle Tramps are a fraternity, dressed in red shirts, black jeans, and toting cow bells with long wooden handles). And my favorite -- the Masked Rider (seen to the right), dressed as a matador in black and red, on her black horse. At home games, they have a track around the field that the horse gallops around, when touchdowns are made.

The BOOM of Raider Red's guns goes off. The Masked Rider holds the reins in her teeth, puts her hands up in the "guns up" sign, and lets the adrenaline-pumped horse loose. She gallops across the field, cape streaming behind, as the football players take the field. Saddle Tramps' bells fill the air and the Goin' Band from Raider Land blasts into the fight song, the crowd on its feet, singing along. Guns up.

Here's a little video I took. Disclaimer: I was having focus issues with the camera AND I was in the nosebleed section. Also, you'll notice the players making a somber march to the opposite end of the field. This is so they can take a knee and have a prayer. Yes, Texas Tech is in the Bible Belt!

And yet another video, if you click here. It's the Saddle Tramps in action, doing their traditional routine with their bells before kick-off. The crowd goes nuts for this. I have to say, the sense of tradition at Texas Tech is very strong, and something that comes with a lot of pride.

I get goosebumps. Ranger was kinda blown away by it, too. That, and all the tortillas flying onto the field. Nope, dear, I wasn't kidding!

The only thing that marred the experience was the behavior of the Tech fans during halftime. I never figured out what they were booing at, but it was associated with the controversy happening over the firing of Coach Mike Leach that week. And it happened in the middle of Daughter's time on the field. All those high school kids, performing their hearts out, and the Tech fans start booing at something else in the middle of it. And this one guy was in front of us with his protest sign waving around in the center of my home video of the performance. Great, guys. Good job. Sometimes, being obnoxious is funny. Sometimes, it's not.

I didn't last all the way through the game. Just after halftime, we headed back to the hotel. A small crowd was in the bar area, watching the game. Ranger settled me into a comfy seat there, and we watched the Red Raiders win the Alamo Bowl.

And guess what we heard all night?

"RAI-DER! POW-ER!"

Daughter spent her day packing, going to the zoo, and going to Six Flags.

Our flight left the next night, at 11:00 PM. The hotel gave me the latest checkout time possible, so we left behind our comfy little love nest at 5:00 and found a good dinner for our last evening in San Antonio. At 9:00, we met the group at the airport, got checked in, and started the journey home.

At the airport, I spotted Daughter, holding a stuffed zebra and wearing a pink Supergirl cape. What a kid.

Ranger and I were quiet. We'd had five days of bliss, away from all the cares and worries back home. We had reveled in each other's company, and in being oh-so-proud of Daughter.

I had new, pleasant memories of San Antonio. I needed them. Before, it was still the place where I'd had my honeymoon. Bittersweet. New memories made the place sweet again.

Some wounds are healing. Not healed, but getting there. There's still words that I have to force myself to not think about, or it just reopens things. I'm still working at it a little at a time, and he is, too.

Working through it all, little by little

We were in the car, talking. Ranger had taken my face in his hands and was sweetly telling me how he feels about me. A love from the depths of his soul. More than list itself. I started to cry.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"I have to ask you something," I said. "But I hate to spoil the moment. I just need an answer to this."

"What's that?"

"If you feel so much for me...if you feel it so deeply...how could you turn to someone else?"

He was quiet for a moment. I'd caught him off-guard.

"I need to know that," I said. "To understand how this isn't going to happen again, like you promise."

"I've actually thought about this a lot," he said, finally. "How I could have done this to you. I think it comes from guilt I was feeling. I mean, there you were, hurting. I couldn't do anything about that. You could barely make it back and forth from the bathroom...and you know what I was thinking? I was thinking how beautiful you are to me and how I wanted to wrap you up in my arms and show you how much I love you."

He paused. "You're hurting, and I just kept thinking of how much I wanted to make love to you. I felt so selfish."

"Why didn't you tell me that?" I asked. "You know I want to hear what you think. I don't judge the things you say and feel like that."

He paused again. "The thing is, I think of you like that all the time. I fantasize about you all the time." He looked at me, finally. "But I don't want to share all of that and have you think that's all I want. I don't want you to think I look at you as just a sexual thing."

"I've just kept all that in," he said. "I didn't want you to feel disrespected. I think the guilt I had pushed me over the edge. I had to express this stuff somehow, and you were in pain. So, she came on to me, and I let some of those feelings for you get transferred."

"So, you actually have feelings for her?"

"No! No, not anymore. It wasn't real, you know? It was you I wanted and not that. I let myself get confused. Never again. No one can be like you, in any way. You're amazing to me, in all that you do. I'm not willing to risk losing that, ever again. There's no one like you. I do love you so much, and nothing is worth losing you."

He paused again and said quietly. "I told her that. I told her she's not worth it. She's not worth risking losing you."

That actually says a lot. He had to have known that saying such a thing might be hurtful. He doesn't like hurting anyone's feelings. It must have been some conversation to push him to say that to her.

"My heart can't belong to anyone but you," he said. "And I intend on spending the rest of my life proving that to you. I want you to believe in me again, to believe in us again."

"I want to," I said, but the tears were coming again. "I just don't know how to compete with a 23-year-old. How do I know you won't get confused again?"

He was holding my face again, wiping the tears off my cheeks. "I'll be sure of that. You'll know that I'm focused on you. Always. There is no comparison. No competition. No one is like you. Sometimes, I just like watching you do anything. You have a grace to you, the way you carry yourself. I've thought that since the day we met."

I wanted to make something clear. "You're telling me a lot of things I didn't know you thought," I said. "Why are you holding back from me?"

"It's what I've learned to do," he said. "Before you, I had to be careful what I shared. My ex-wife thought that everything I said had an ulterior motive. She didn't like her body, so she didn't want to hear any sexual thoughts I had. So, I've been scared that I'd make you feel that's all I wanted and all I saw in you."

"Honey, you can say all of those things to me," I said. "I enjoy knowing all your thoughts about me. If you say the sexual and the non-sexual, and then we know it's balanced. Right?"

"So, you don't mind hearing all my little fantasies?"

I laughed. "Uhm...no. I'm the one who wanted to read erotic literature with you, remember?"

He laughed. "Oh, yeah. I forgot that. I just need to express some emotions physically. That's ok?"

It is. And he hasn't held back since. I have to say, the man has a colorful imagination. But so do I. So that works out.

'Tis the season

I can't drive yet, so I've really relied on Ranger to do the driving for me. This has allowed us some time alone, away from my three-ring-circus household. It's hard to go through what I'm going through...what we're going through...when every wall at home has ears. My niece is a nosy child, so that doesn't help.

Christmas shopping has been our excuse for escaping the madness. Going from one madness to another. But it did give me a good moment of laughter that I sorely needed.

It was in the bathroom at Walmart. The place was insane with little children. I let those people go first. Not because I was being particularly generous; I just didn't want the little ones on the loose peeking under the bathroom door at me.

The circus left, and the place quieted a bit. Enter a woman with a baby, headed to the changing table. She was singing to the tune of "O Christmas Tree." Not surprising -- I had the tune stuck in my head because of a holiday display they had that played this song over and over.

So, she was belting it out, singing to the baby. Her words to the tune were:

"O smelly butt! Oh smelly butt! Whatever are they feeding you!"

It still cracks me up. Get your holiday cheer where you can find it!

On a side note, Ranger did something interesting for me for Christmas. First, he gave me something very thoughtful and useful. I tend to have very cold feet. So, he gave me something to help, "for those times when I'm not there to warm them for you," he said. Microwaveable booties. Oh yes! No more frozen toes.

Then, he gave me the sweetest card. It said so much that we've said to each other. In it was a note. He's bought a URL for me to start making and selling bra purses online. He has programmed all of the storefront functionality for me. All I have to do is make them, take pictures, and put them on the site. An unusual gift, but one I think was thoughtful.

Peace and joy, everyone!

Promises and proof

Ranger called me when he woke up this morning. Fridays have been our "date night," so we talked about what to do and when. And he thanked me for the millionth time for an early Christmas gift.

I gave him a standing heater. Sounds a little utilitarian, right? But you have to realize that the house he lives in has one heat source. A woodburning stove. He's keeping his door closed and locked now, though, so that the woman who has been involved in our troubles will stay away. So, he doesn't get as much heat in his room.

During the warmest part of the day, his room is 42 degrees. When he wakes in the morning, he can see his breath in the air. Despite the hurt I'm experiencing, I couldn't stand to see him suffering like that. And the sentiment meant the world to him.

And we talked about us.

See, I have questions, concerns, thoughts. He's open to them, which is different. With Old BF's infidelity, if I had something to say after the initial argument, he got furious with me. Ranger doesn't. He knows I'm trying to work through this and how I think. He also knows I'm not trying to beat him up with my questions. There's just things I need to understand.

One of the things we talked about yesterday was pretty intense. That message I saw had sentiments and scenarios in it that I thought were just for me, from him. I thought he thought of only me in those ways and in those "fantasies." I'm having a lot of trouble understanding how all of that became so...."fill in the blank." And I feel like just another blank now.

"When you touch me now," I said. "How do I know it's how you want to touch just me? When you say it's good to lay with me, how do I know it's how you feel with me? Or could it be just anyone?" I was crying, as I do a lot lately.

"It was all so special to me," I added. "And it wasn't."

"It was," he said.

"Then how could it be given to anyone else?"

"I know it feels that way. I just ask that you give me time to show you, prove it to you. Let me have a chance to undo this. Please?"

Our conversation this morning was not as intense as that. However, about 10 minutes after we hung up, he called back.

"I've been getting ready to get my work done here," he said. "But my thoughts are so on you. I can't stop thinking about something since yesterday. And I have to tell you...."

His voice was breaking. I could hear the tears behind it. He paused to compose himself. Then, he said, through the tears:

"Baby, I want to be everything to you. I want to fulfill everything for you. And only for you. You are so beautiful. Inside and out. You are so wonderful to me. You are everything I've ever dreamed of, and I want to be everything you've ever dreamed of. I don't ever want you to hurt again. I will never, ever do anything to cause you pain again. I will never, ever do anything to risk you and what we have again. It's not worth it. YOU mean too much to me. Just give me time to show you and prove it to you. I swear I will."

Now, we're both in tears.

I need our date night tonight. I need to look in his eyes and see in them what's behind these words. He says that no one has ever looked at him with the love that are in my eyes when I look at him. I need to see and feel that again, too.

Since then....

I haven't slept well for a few days. For awhile, I considered using the pain medications for numbing more than my incisions. That's not healthy, though.

Initially, it was a long, ugly phone call. I was shaking so badly I could hardly talk. My brain buzzed.

The message had been addressed to one of Ranger's roommates. A 23-year-old incredibly messed-up mother of two toddlers. The week before my surgery, this same woman had stopped me and told me she asked her pastor to prayer for me, that all would go well. "I know how much Ranger cares for you," she said. To my face.

Ranger gave me a very flimsy explanation. His story was that she had made a pass at him the previous night, but he'd refused her. This made her feel bad, so he wrote the message to make her feel better.

Okay. So, dear Diary, scroll down and read that message again. Does this explanation make sense? No. It does not.

"It's just my fantasies," he said later. That doesn't quite cut it either. You don't tell someone you hope they enjoyed you, in your own fantasy.

Repeatedly, I picked apart the message and pointed out how this didn't make sense. Over and over, he said, "I don't know what to tell you when you won't believe me."

Ranger and I have dozens of discussions about what it's like to have a partner cheat on you. I find myself facing my own advice. The question has been, what do you do when you know you aren't getting the whole story? Well, you assume the worst and decide if you can deal with that.

I'm trying to. I really am. All those old wounds that Ranger helped me heal have just been ripped open again. By him.

"You promised," I cried to him. "You promised I'd never have to feel this way again. That I was enough...more than enough...for you. You know how I've hurt. How can you be the one to hurt me like that again?"

I've lost track of how many times I've said that now. I've lost track of how many times he's apologized. For several days, I couldn't escape the words from that note. They drifted through my mind constantly, torturing me.

"All that you promised was mine, and mine alone," I said. "You've given it to someone else. The things you've said to me, they aren't mine anymore. They're words. Just words. For anyone. I'm not you're 'Beautiful'; anyone is."

He disputes this vehemently. His feelings for me have not changed. The next day, he pulled this roommate aside and told her nothing could ever exist between them. He told her "distance" was best. Do not even call, IM, or text.

He left out emailing.

I was with him when he got notice of a new email through his phone. It was her, through her cell phone. I happened to be looking at his phone when it came in.

"What's that?" my Spidey-sense tingling.

He stared for a moment. He clicked and read the message. All it said was that one of the other roommates had beaten a video game they'd been playing. "It's her," he said.

This happened eight days after the initial incident. We've been trying to work on this during that time. He's not only handed me access to all of his email accounts and his phone, but set his email to forward all new messages to me automatically, so nothing can be deleted and hidden. He's been very intense on trying to re-convince me that it's a mistake that will never happen again, that I'm his world, that he'll never risk losing me again.

But back to the emailing. This made me crumble. As I've been telling him for the last week, I'm not on sure footing anymore. It's up to him whether I find that footing again with him or not. And I have to see if I'll ever trust him again.

As I watched, he replied, saying, "Please do not email me."

In tears again, I told him that she obviously did not get the message. And I can't help but wonder why. I told him so. "If I hadn't been looking when that came in, maybe you would have ignored it. And it would have just continued."

Apparently, he went home and told her point-blank to stop emailing. He didn't know what part of "distance" she didn't understand, but he put a block on her number and address on his email server. And he said it to her in front of the roommate she's sleeping with now.

Oh yeah, that. Right after Ranger told her to scram, she turned her attention to another roommate, and is now apparently sleeping with him. She made Ranger feel irrelevant. He put everything on the line for that.

It's been an intense week-plus. Lots of tears. I don't like to cry, and I find myself breaking down in public, when I'm with Ranger. I'm not allowed to drive yet, so he's been driving me around to get my Christmas shopping done. We need the time together away from my insane, over-stuffed house, so we have the privacy we need to hash this thing out.

What's going to happen? I just don't know. He's desperate to reassure me that he means all the promises and that we can fix this. But there's a "trust hole" between us now. I don't know how to heal that.

Am I a fool for seeing if this can be worked out? Maybe. It wouldn't be the first time...but I've given lesser men second chances.

All I really know is this, as I've told him through many tears - I can't survive another blow like this. And I can't live a life of wondering. He's promised profusely to prove to his worth, his undying love, to me. To see how raw my pain is causes him great pain. To see me so sad hurts him. And it should, I told him.

I'm working on this a day at a time right now. We are. I'm being very open about my thoughts, pain, and doubts. And he's letting me, and listening.

We'll see. For now, I'm just so sad over promises broken...and a broken heart.

Unexpected pain

I've taken some time to make this post. The event is over a week old, but this is the first I've been able to write about it, both physically and emotionally.

Ranger has watched over me beautifully. He stayed at the hospital, even when his sleeping accommodations were terribly uncomfortable. He comes to sit with me each day at home. We watch TV together, talk, have lunch and dinner. He hangs out with Daughter and I when she gets home from school, too. If I need anything, I mean anything, he's the one getting it for me and helping me move around. See, my room is upstairs. Once I climbed those stairs when I got home, we knew I'd be there for a few days before I'd be able to brave the stairs again.

On December 7th ("...a day that will live in infamy..."), he was getting ready to leave my house, to finish some work at home. It was starting to snow outside.

"I wish I could take you up the road by my house, to a quiet place up there, where we can see the whole valley. And we could climb in the back and cuddle up, and enjoy the snow coming down. And each other." Maybe when I'm better.

I stood by him and we held each other, saying goodbye. Our normal banter when parting goes like this:

"I love you," I say.

"I love you, too," he says.

"For always?"

"For always," he says. "And in all ways."

I added something this time. "Only for me?"

He smiled. "Only for you."

And off he went. When he got home, he wrote this message:

"ok... so the dreams... first one was minutes after I fell asleep. I drempt that you came back into my room... wearing a big towel. You closed the door and said I put this on, because I think you are finally someone that can truely appricate me in this... and dropped the towel... and you were wearing what I think is your camo lingere. I woke back up looking for you!!!

"Second dream was I was taking you somewhere... store or something. We rushed through the errand, and then drove up the road... up into the snow and storm... until we were socked into the clouds. We got in the back of my suv and made mad passionate love until snow covered all of the windows

"I hope you enjoyed me as much as I enjoyed you. It was so nice to be with you, you sexy beautiful thang!"

That's something else, eh? The kind of thoughts and feelings every girl wants her man to think, feel, and express to her. Wowee!

But there's one little problem.

I don't own camo lingerie.

This message was not written to me.

Getting back on my feet

I'm back! Ouch. Sorta.

Surgery went as planned, on November 24th. I didn't get really nervous until about 10 minutes before, while talking to the anesthesiologist. He looked at me and said, "Are you anxious?" I admitted it. He gave me something wonderful to chill me out, through my IV.

Here's how the thing is supposed to go. The doctor makes a small incision on one side, to get at my spine from the side. He takes a long, thin instrument and carves out the middle of what's left of my disc. He inserts a little mesh bag filled with bone material in it, coated with a substance that encourages bone growth, so that it all fuses together. He then makes a small incision over my spine and inserts screws in the facet joints, to keep that level of my spine from moving.

The only hitch was that my disc degeneration was worse than expected. Initially, the doctor could not get the instrument into the space between my vertebrae. It was too narrow, being bone-on-bone in some places. He maneuvered enough to get in there, though, and the surgery went well after that.

I'm just getting to the point of being able to use my laptop. Apparently, it's a day my boss has been waiting for. A couple of days after my surgery, my pal Cathy was in a meeting with him, when a question that I'd usually answer came up.

"Can we just prop Blogget up and ask her this one?" she joked.

"I'm just about ready to do that," he said. He's been the one fielding the questions that usually go to me.

I'm not telling him I can use the computer just yet.

Biscuits and Okra

It's been wild lately! Lots to tell. First off, Ranger and I enjoyed a nice trip to Denver a couple of weeks ago. I actually had to attend a workshop there, but that was fine. We braved the snow on the Front Range and had a lovely time.

My favorite moment was the Saturday morning before we hit the road. We took our lazy time moving that morning. He went downstairs and returned with all kinds of breakfast goodies. We sat on the cozy bed, watching TV and munching away on breakfast sandwiches, juice, and coffee. It was a peaceful moment to the two of us, before facing the real world.

I saw the surgeon yesterday. He explained the procedure they'll do on my spine, then sent me to the hospital for pre-op testing and all. I'm in terrible pain this week, though. Had to resort to morphine to get through the night. The surgery can't come fast enough, in some ways.

A lot of yesterday's pain was brought on by traveling. Last week, I attended that conference I love to go to every fall. The one I know Vince from. This is my seventh year to attend. I'm on the Board. So, I have many friends I look forward to seeing each year.

Just for the record, SC was not there again this year. A couple of people asked about him, but all I could say was last time I heard from him was about 3:00 AM when he was having dating trouble, which happens when you date your ex-spouse.

My co-presenter, my friend Cathy, made all kinds of noises when I said we needed to be at the airport at 5:30 AM on Wednesday. She grumbled to her husband all the way there that morning. "Blogget better be here," she said. "Making me get up so early...."

I was there and already checked in when she got there. Ha!

We had a decent layover in Dallas on the way to Montgomery, Alabama. It was 9:30 in the morning, and Cathy wanted pizza. All right, I thought. What the hell? We had pizza for breakfast, at the DFW Pizza Hut. As we're leaving, Cathy points. "What is that doing here?"

One condiment bin was filled with...grape jelly.

At a pizza place. WTF?

That kind of set the tone for the day.

Once we arrived in Montgomery and made it through the cabbie we couldn't understand, we settled in at the Renaissance Hotel in the downtown area. Love, love, love this hotel, by the way. You gotta love any place that has the Star Wars Cantina Band song among the tracks in their Jazz selection in the lobby.

I spent a little time working on the research report for the conference. We conduct an annual survey of distance programs, and I'm in charge of it this year. A database glitch caused me to get some of the data late, so I was still compiling the report upon arrival. Cathy checked her email, then we headed out to kill some time.

Montgomery has this great trolley system. Two routes take you on a tour of the downtown area, for a quarter per ride. So, for a whole dollar, we both rode on both routes to get an overview of things to see in Montgomery.

Wow. This is what blew me away on this trip. This town is not only rich in history, but it's also history that happened in layers. I mean, on top of each other. And the issues are so entwined. It's completely amazing. And I never left the downtown area.

This one pales by comparison to the historical sites in Montgomery, but our hotel was across the street from the Hank Williams Museum. The trolley recording told us that they have the car he died in. So, knowing nothing about his death and being a morbid person, I looked it up. I expected a car accident, but no....it's a much more bizarre story. I won't retell it here, but go to this page on The Death of Hank Williams to read it.

All I can say is it's a pathetic story. How sad is it that someone can be such a drunk that no one notices he's DEAD for hours? I mean, people with him, driving around his dead body, thinking he's just passed out again. Wow. His driver even got pulled over, given a ticket, drove into the next town, went to see a judge, paid his fine, and got back on the road....all without noticing his passenger was dead. I mean, really?

On our last day there, a bunch of us visited his grave. Someone had left a nearly-empty bottle of Crown Royal at the grave, with cups they'd used to drink to him. How ironic. Here's a pic -- note the bottle and cups on the ground:


But it's the rest of the history of Montgomery that fascinates me. Here's the spot where Rosa Parks caught the bus that fateful day:


By the bus stop is the building that was the Confederate Post Office. Close by is the building where the telegram was sent to clear the Union troops from Fort Sumter, starting the Civil War.

Walk about a block and a half from that spot, and you're standing where Rosa Parks was arrested. The museum with her name on it stands there now. The theater that used to be there was where Hank Williams won his first music contest. It's also where the slave markets once stood.

Go a few blocks in the other direction, and you're standing in front of this church.

This church is significant for its former pastor, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. See those lower doors? That's the room where the bus boycott was planned, and became the headquarters for the civil rights movement. While I was in my Board of Directors meeting the following day, Cathy went on the tour of this church. She was the only person there, so she was allowed to stand at MLK's pulpit and sit at his desk. Wow. I was so jealous....

Anyhow, see the woman pointing in the picture above? This is what she's pointing at:


The monument in the foreground is right across the street from the church. RIGHT there. The monument marks the spot where Jefferson Davis's inaugural parade started. He took the oath of office on the portico of the capital building, in the background. The Civil War memorial is to the left, in the trees.

See what I mean? Layers of history, in one place. Absolutely fascinating.

After our wanderings, we met the other "early birds" for dinner that evening. We went across the street to an Italian restaurant called SaZa's, run by chef Joe DiMaggio, Jr. AMAZING food! Authentic Italian that apparently outdid Cathy's Italian momma.

And who sits down next to me but Vince. I had been debating about whether or not it would be cool to bring up the review visit.

"I'm coming to see you in a couple of weeks," he said. Well, that put an end to my debate.

Vince is a wine enthusiast, so I told him it's a shame he won't have a chance to visit some of our dozen or so vineyards. He said, "Maybe you're unaware of the customary gift basket given to reviewers...." Ha!

The more we talked about where we live, the more people around us listened. Now, the debate is, when can we have the conference in Grand Junction? That would be exciting for me, to show off some of this area.

Our food began to arrive. Plates of manicotti, spaghetti, pizza, and other wonders were set in front of us. I ordered rigatoni bolognese. I didn't get a plate.

I got a big, black, clay pot. Everyone around me went gaga. "WHAT did you order?"

It had a HUGE wooden spoon stuck through the lid's handle. It was poking me so I had the big spoon in my hand when the waiter appeared again, ready to put a plate in front of me.

He eyed the big serving spoon in my hand and said, "If you want to eat it that way, you can. But I'd recommend the plate and fork." Funny boy.

He opened the pot for me. It was filled with the most incredible-looking food, with the most incredible-smelling aroma wafting out with the steam. "Good thing we have a fridge in the room," I said.

"But you don't have a microwave," said Vince. Good point.

I ate the whole dang thing. It was just too delicious to stop. I was miserable, but wouldn't have given up a bite!

Cathy and I spent part of the next morning doing some work. She answered email, and I finished compiling the research from the group's survey this year. I sent it off to the Webmaster to post online, and we were free until my Board meeting later that afternoon.

We set off down the street, to see if the baseball stadium had a shop that was open. See, Montgomery has a minor league baseball team. It's the AA affiliate for the Tampa Bay Rays. That makes it the perfect souvenir for Son. It's just that the team name is a little funky....

They had a contest to name their team. A local lawyer won, when he said, "What could be more southern than biscuits?"

Oh, yes, my friends. They are....the Montgomery Biscuits.

Intimidating, yes? Especially when you see the mascot, Monty the Biscuit:

The pad of butter in his mouth makes me laugh. Apparently, they shoot biscuits from cannons when they make a home run.

This just might be the most hilarious mascot ever. Or so I thought, until the next day....but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Lots of people at my house ended up with Biscuit souvenirs! Truly unique, and I love to make people laugh.

Vince wandered into the Biscuit store, too. Which, incidentally, is called the Biscuit Basket. He likes baseball caps, so we left him to find one and went to get lunch.

Across the street, we found Dreamland Barbecue. Oh, the smell coming from that place was heavenly! We settled in and ordered some sandwiches, and set to chatting. Someone was seated at the table on the other side of a low wall from us. They reached up and put their hat on the wall. It was a Biscuits hat. We looked at each other. Could it be....

Yup. It was Vince. He decided to join our table. He doesn't know Cathy very well, so he was very gentlemanly in getting to know her, too. We talked about the apparent differences in Texas barbecue, Kansas City barbecue, and Alabama barbecue. Soon, another good friend from Vince's school joined us. This was my dear friend who gave us the lightsabers last year. He's just arrived in Montgomery.

"You should have been at the restaurant we went to last night," Vince said.

"Was it good?" the friend asked.

"Good?" Vince said. "You should have seen Blogget! We had to pry her head out of the dish her food came in!"

"Licked it clean," I said, laughing.

Have I mentioned how much I love seeing these people every year?

At the Board meeting that afternoon, the major issue before us was the drop in registrations for the conference. We usually have about 100 people. Last year, we had 90. This year, with budgets being slashed all over the place, we had 50. Dang. We're undergoing a name change to clarify the group's purpose and attract more people in our field, but we've gotta get the ball rolling on that. People want to debate all day, but I'm soooo sick of that. Just get it done, people!

What's sad is that one of the people who couldn't come due to budgets was the president of the organization. Unbelievable. I had to pay most of my own expenses to get there, and I was doing essentially three presentations.

We had various committee reports. I had submitted one of our courses for an award, but it didn't win. Remember droopy-dog lady fro last year? The one who got caught trying to start gossip about South Carolina and a woman in her office? She's on that awards committee. Again, this year, she opened her mouth and some of the dumbest things I've ever heard spilled out.

"I never read those cover letters people send," she said. This made me fume because our cover letter had contained really important information about the course. "And if there's too many steps to get into the course, I don't look at it. That indicates a problem with the course."

No, it doesn't. That's a problem with the school's online system. Not the instructor's fault. They should be given points for working with a wonky system.

My good friend Mick from Minnesota arrived. We Twitter all the time, and I'd agreed to help with his workshop on using Twitter for professional and educational endeavors. Mick also sends me lots of cool Star Wars links via Twitter. We're complete geeks, and love it!

We had a opening reception that night, but a bunch of us met for cocktails in the hotel bar before that. I can't tell you how many times I heard, "Let me buy you a drink!" on this trip.

Have I mentioned yet how much I love seeing these people, each year?

One of the highlights of this conference for me is the silent auction. Everyone brings things from their school and region to be auctioned, then the proceeds go to a charity in the area where the conference is being held.

And I'm horrendously competitive at a silent auction. I apologize ahead of time, because I can and do lose control. Seriously.

So, I'm cruising the silent auction items, and lo and behold, I find out that I was wrong the previous day. The Montogomery Biscuits are not the most hilarious mascot ever. This fella is:


The Delta State University....Fighting Okra.

He's an angry little vegetable.

"Look at the pickle!" Cathy said. She was corrected. He's an okra. With boxing gloves. And a very angry face (like that makes him a scary side dish).

I bid on the Fighting Okra hat for Son. Vince was bidding against me. "You're driving up that price," he finally said to me.

"You don't understand," I said. "I'm bidding on that for my son. You're going against a Mommy here."

He gave me a level stare. "You want a good review, don't you?"

I let him have the hat. Son got the t-shirt.

Have I mentioned yet how much I really love seeing these people?

The next morning, we started with a breakfast meeting and keynote speaker. We're all sitting nicely and looking all professional. Then this happened....


Seriously. This woman stood up at her seat, during the keynote speaker's talk, and did needlepoint. While doing this marching in place thing. She even did three thread color changes on her needlepoint, while standing there as the man is trying to talk. Wow.

I ditched Twitter for this one and sent Mick a text. He had his back to this woman. It saw him do the subtle "I'm just looking around" thing, and spot her. His expression was priceless.

Now, on the marching in place thing, I gave her the benefit of the doubt and thought maybe she had a circulation issue and couldn't sit that long. But no....she sat just fine through the rest of the sessions that day. Still doing her needlepoint!

Unbelievable. People can be so weird.

At lunch, my friend from Texas - the fiery little Hispanic woman I see whenever I visit Lubbock - was getting nervous about our presentation that afternoon. "I have to go over my notes," she said. "And I keep reminding myself, 'You can't cuss. You can't cuss.'" Gotta love that!

This post is getting long, so I'll spare the rest of the details. The presentations went very well. My friends noticed the addition of the ring on my hand, and were full of questions about Ranger. More questions about my upcoming surgery.

As I do every year at this conference, I felt the love from people I admire and respect, and am humbled by their admiration and respect.

Saying goodbye is always hard. Cathy and I stood in the hall, watching the elevator doors close. The crowd inside waved and yelled goodbyes to us. "See you next week!" Vince hollered as the doors shut.

Man, I love seeing these people.