Suggestive Skies....

I looked up in the sky today, and what did I see?

I'm just sayin'....

Appreciation

I started hearing that the annual Employee Appreciation Luncheon was coming, for all the departments under our VP's umbrella. We've been under this VP for about a year, and it's generally been a royally pain in the ass, heavy on the political nonsense. Still, a luncheon would be nice, to hear how she couldn't do all she does without us, even though she makes us feel like we could be replaced with trained monkeys.

So, I get the official notice about the luncheon. It's a potluck.

Does this sound funny to anyone else? As in, "I appreciate all you do so much that I want to have a luncheon about it. So, bring your own food."

WTF?

While she's making her speech about how the growth of the campus could not have happened without us, my boss and I are looking at each other. We've been told we need to show our "productivity." How do you measure the output of faculty support? Plus, the number of online courses has more than doubled since I started here, a short time ago. I work all the freakin' time! Don't tell me I'm not "productive"....

A couple of weeks ago, she made a comment to my boss that "lots of faculty" are complaining that I'm never here for them. Never here?! I'm here at 7:30 AM, often don't take lunch away from my desk, and she has personally seen me here past 6:00 PM.

Turns out, ONE faculty person complained to her that I didn't do something for her fast enough. Once. And that happened because she gave me the wrong information in the first place. But she has the VP's ear more than I do. Why? Because she has her PhD and my job got in the way of me finishing mine.

Hmph.

So, in the midst of feeling unappreciated by my VP, an instructor comes to visit me.

"My sister came over this weekend," she says. "And we planted my yard." Note: her yard is an orchard.

"And you know what I told her?" she continued. "We have to plant lots of eggplant for Blogget!"

I make eggplant parmesan for my family all summer. And last year, she supplied me with eggplant. Looks like she will this year, too! Any why?

To show how much she appreciates the "above and beyond" things I do to support her online courses.

That's what puts the smile back on my face.

My favorite excuse for a party

Fruita, Colorado loves a good party. The town square is set up for it, with a permanent stage, a lot for food/drink vendors, and a big, grassy lawn. They host four major festivals each year: Fat Tire Festival (celebrating mountain biking and Fat Tire beer), Dinosaur Days (celebrating the rich fossil territory surrounding Fruita), Fruita Fall Festival (celebrating....uhm, cooler weather), and my personal favorite....

Mike the Headless Chicken Festival

No kidding. It's a party for a decapitated chicken. The thing is, Mike survived it. Yeah, really.

You can go read Mike's story (yeah, he has a web site), but here's a synopsis. In 1945, a farmer picked out Mike for dinner. However, his aim was less than true, and the axe took off Mike's head, but left his brain stem. So, Mike hopped off the block and continued to peck for his feed, as though he had a mouth to eat it. "Ah-ha!" said the farmer. "My fortune is made!" He figured out how to feed Mike with an eyedropper to his exposed gullet, and set out on a freakshow tour.

Eighteen months later, in a motel, the farmer misplaced the eyedropper. That night, Mike began to choke, and the farmer had no way of clearing his airway. And Mike died.

But he lived without a head for 18 months. So, now they have a party for him every year.

On the morning news today, I watched the official opening of the Mike the Headless Chicken Festival. At 6 AM today, a man in a chicken costume raised the official Festival flag, and everyone started eating chicken wings.

Over the next couple of days, everyone will enjoy food, drink, merchandise vendors (including Mike the Headless Chicken hats, t-shirts, mugs, etc.), the Chicken Dance Contest, Rubber Chicken Football, and live music. All in honor of a chicken who avoided the dinner table 65 years ago.

Like I said, my favorite excuse for a party. If you're looking for me this weekend, you'll find me in Fruita, Colorado. I'm the one in the wine tent, with the chicken hat.

My friend from the east

I've known this fella professionally since 2003. We belong to the same professional organization, both serve on the board for it. It's a group that is small and consistent enough to let you make good friends, who you enjoy seeing once a year. Oh, it's the same conference where I met South Carolina.

So, when this guy expressed an interest in a position vacancy we posted for my department at work, I was thrilled. To get someone with his experience on my team would be....well, part of a dream team for me. We could really get something done! But I was worried we couldn't afford him. After asking my boss if it was all right, I shared the salary information with my pal. No problem. Woo hoo!

That was last November. My friend balked at applying because of the cost he could have, selling his house on the east coast and moving to Colorado. So, the search committee is looking at our pool of applicants. It sucked. We had one good one, and she'd already accepted another job before we could interview her. I called my friend again. He considered it and decided to apply.

Now, I had a small battle with the search committee. My friend didn't have the required Instructional Design-related degree, but he had 14 years experience in the distance learning field and a doctorate in History. He'd actually been a professor in the UK for awhile. And an archeologist. And the keeper of a castle. His resume reads like a high adventure novel.

So, I had to convince the committee to go ahead and interview him, based on experience and not on his degrees. He blew away the phone interview and was invited to campus. He paid to stay an extra day, to visit with a realtor and to see the area - with me as tour guide. That's okay by me! We've lifted a few together before, so it should be fun.

For the campus interview, I give candidates two courses in our course system, for them to evaluate and redesign, as they would if they were in the job. No sweat. Then the search committee Chair did something I didn't like. He sent my friend a link to the course he delivers online, in his own format and on his own site.

"How would you change my course?" he asks. And I grit my teeth. Why would an applicant want to tell the Chair of the hiring committee what's wrong with his course?

So, my friend comes to town. The Chair picks him up from the airport and brings him to campus for a couple of initial interviews. Interviewing here is grueling. It's a whole day, or sometimes a day and a half, of interviews with different administrators and faculty. Then, you do some sort of presentation. Ugh. At least they feed you.

The Chair brought him by my office to say hello. Now, I hadn't seen my friend face-to-face since November of 2007. He peeked into my office and couldn't have been more delighted to see me! He gave me a big hug, and I realized I'd never seen him in a suit before.

"Yeah, I clean up okay, don't I?" he said, in his thick New Jersey accent. He's a big guy and made the suit look impressive.

The Chair seemed surprised by our familiarity, but I can't figure out why. The Chair doesn't tend to like me much because I actually make him work sometimes.

Later that evening, I met two members of the committee (including the Chair) and my friend for dinner at my favorite Indian restaurant. I was curious to see what my friend thought of the place, since he'd spent so much time in the UK and just loved that food.

The proprietor is a boisterous little man, who always dotes on Ranger and I when we're there. He came to take our order and his eyes lit up when he saw me.

"Hello Blogget! My friend! So good to see you! Where is my friend Ranger?"

I explained why our little group was there that night, and he promised to take good care of us. The Chair turned to me when the man left. "Wow, you do like to come here, don't you?" Yep.

The Chair and I got the same dish. My friend got the tikka masala. The other committee member seemed to fawn all over him about being the keeper of a castle. My friend knows how to entertain a group. He regaled us with stories from his travels, doing the accents and voices of the characters he met along the way.

Our food was spectacular, as usual. The Chair had to ask me how to eat his...do you pour the rice onto your plate? Do you keep it separate? What's this sauce? What are you drinking? (It was hot chai.)

We had an excellent time. We talked about the area and got an idea of what my friend might like to see on Saturday. I'd put him in touch with my realtor, so he as scheduled to talk to her, too.

The next day, he appeared bright-eyed and dapper in his suit again. He found each and every interview to be delightful. He completely won over our hard-ass feminazi VP. Usually, my boss takes candidates to lunch, but he was gone so I did that. We went to microbrewery #1 (of the 3 we have here), even though we wouldn't be drinking during work hours. He forgot his reading glasses, so I had to read the menu for him. We actually discussed the job and the work, saving the social bits for the next day.

The afternoon's interviews went well. I sat in on all of them, as they were mock "consultations" with faculty, much like they'd be in the job itself. Fifteen minutes with each one didn't allow for much in-depth discussion of instructional design, but we got the idea. In the end, each one liked him and was impressed with his knowledge.

Then, he started his presentation on redesigning those example courses I sent. But it got derailed. Why? The Chair decided to ask, "Tell me how you'd change my course." My friend couched his response in the idea of making a site user-friendly for students, and he suggested a different structure for the syllabus.

Damnit if we didn't spend twenty effing minutes on the Chair arguing with him. His current structure was obviously cumbersome, and my friend showed him how he could actually have it both ways. But oh no....it was painfully obvious to all present that the Chair didn't want to hear anything could be changed in his course.

Stupid Chair has slammed my friend at every occasion since then.

Before we all left for the weekend, the VP asked the committee if he was aware of the salary range. Yes, I said. Definitely. We'd discussed it months before, and he expressed he had no problem with it.

The next day was a Saturday. I met my friend at his hotel, just before lunch time. We went to microbrewery #2, but this time we could get some beer. I did this on purpose. Like I said, we'd lifted a few together before. This man is a big, bagpipe-playing Celt, and this trip was the first time I'd seen him wear something that didn't have a Guinness logo on it.

After that, we headed out the back way to the neighboring town. It's about ten minutes away and is known for it's festivals throughout the year. Including one about a headless chicken from there, who lived for about a year and a half after losing his head, to be the delight of the freakshow circuit. There's a sculpture of him in this town. So, we went to see it, and I told the story. And he took pictures, to send to a mutual friend back east.

We got some water and a snack and drove to the Colorado National Monument. It was a perfect day to drive that area, and the spectacular scenery just blew him away. He was genuinely excited about it. We talked about the hiking and biking trails. We stopped for pictures a lot. He took one of me at one outlook point. Heck, even the bighorn sheep came out to be photographed by him! They lined up along the road, looking right at us, and held still as though posing. Amazing!

We headed back to town, in time for a leisurely dinner. There's a new Irish pub in town, so we made ourselves comfortable there, ordered a couple of beers and Irish stew. I've never spent one-on-one time with him, but we didnt run out of things to talk about. He loved the pub, and found out from the server that we have a bagpipe group in town who comes to play there. "So, I can play my pipes here?" he said, completely excited by that idea.

Soon, I needed to get home. I dropped him off at his hotel, promising to make it back at check-out time, to help him find some lunch and get to the airport in time. Which is exactly what we did - lunch at microbrewery #3 and off to catch his plane.

Everyone parted ways satisfied that this situation would work out. The Chair was a stumbling block in talking about offering my friend the job. He'd grudgingly say my friend was competent, then slam him the rest of the time. My boss phone interviewed him the next week, since he'd been away during the campus visit. In the end, it was sunshine all around.

Until they extended the job to him. They actually offered a higher salary that I'd originally told him it would be.

And what did he do?

Said his bottom line was $20,000 more.

$20,000?? WTF, dude?!

And ta-da! I look like an idiot.

"I thought you told him the salary range?" my boss asked. And the VP asked. She already sees me as a peon. I soooo didn't need this.

"Yes, I did! And I have the emails to prove it!" And so I did.

I ended up emailing my boss, the VP, and the committee, with an apology for my part of this fiasco. If I'd had ANY idea the salary would be a problem, I would never have encouraged the interviews. For anyone. I'm not into wasting time and resources.

And because he is my friend, it looked to them like we figured out a way to get my buddy here for a little mini-vacation on the college. Great.

My boss said something about that a couple of weeks later, as we're at a luncheon at a conference. So, I got my chance to say my bit in person. I was completely honest with him.

"I feel personally wronged here," I said. "I stuck my neck out to get him interviewed. I sunk personal time and money into showing him the area. I set him up with my realtor, and wasted her time, too. This really stings. He made me look pretty bad."

My boss looked thoughtful at that. "I can see how you'd be upset," he said. Well, at least he heard me. Maybe he didn't think I'd pulled a fast one anymore. I just really didn't need to be distrusted or to look unprofessional at work. Or look like a fool.

So, I still have to work with my friend through that organization. We're chairs of committees who need things from each other. But....I can't tell you how many different ways I'm disappointed.

Back to square one, in finding help for me at work.

I think we're in Kansas again, Toto....

Well, almost Kansas. That was the last part of the trip. This started at the end of March, when Ranger and I went to Kansas City to see his kids and retrieve the last of his stuff, still in storage there.

We arrived at our home airport at 5:15 AM, to catch a flight to Dallas-Fort Worth, where we had a layover before our flight to Kansas City. Checking in, they offered us a deal on first-class seats between Dallas and KC. So, we treated ourselves to a little more leg room and boarding first. Which I like.

I'm what you might call a competitive boarder. I hate Southwest Airlines because I actually have to sweat my place in line to get the seat I want. And I want close to the front because I hate that "trapped" feeling when you land and people just won't get out of the way to let you off. Yeah, I'm that person you see at the gate an hour before boarding time, sitting on the floor at the little passenger corral, staking out her pole position. And I set my bags so that no one can step in front of me.

On other airlines, I have an assigned seat, which I've checked and rechecked online to see if I can move closer to the front. You'd think I'd feel better about that. No. Then, I sweat getting room for my bag in the overhead bin.

So, boarding first makes me happy. And Ranger likes it a lot when I'm happy.

The flight to DFW was smooth. On time and all. I looked in the pocket in front of my seat and pulled out the paper barf bag. "Dang," I said. "Not the nice plastic ones. I needed more little gift bags."

Ranger laughed. He was there when I actually used one of the plastic ones for a gift for my dad. Then took great delight in telling him how the airlines were giving away those bags to passengers when I last traveled. Yep, right in the pocket for each seat.

I have a sick sense of humor sometimes.

At DFW, we had time to waste. I looked at my phone clock and saw we had another two hours until our flight. We browsed shops. We took our sweet time getting to the next gate. We found a restaurant where we could get something to drink and wait. As we sat down, Ranger lookied at his own phone.

"What time did you say it was?" he asked. I told him.

His eyes went a little wide. "No," he said, showing me his phone. His had updated to the current time zone. It said we had 30 minutes until our flight.

"What?!" I grabbed my phone. Sure enough, it had not updated the time. I was an hour off. Later, I found the setting to change that.

We left the restaurant quickly and crossed over to our gate, which was thankfully close by. I went straight to the Priority Seating queue. Where I was first. We stood there for about two minutes before they called us to board.

Sitting in first class together was special for us. Snuggled into the big seats, with the new travel pillow I bought and Ranger tucking a blanket under my chin. He was like a big kid, playing with all the trays that slid out from everywhere on his seat. Getting the "special" snacks and real glasses instead of plastic cups. He felt doted on, treated to something he never got otherwise. It was fun to watch him.

Besides, he was so excited to be seeing his kids again. It had been nearly two years since he'd been able to afford to travel to see them. And this time, as he put it, he was going to see the most precious people in his life together. I'd met his son before, but not his daughter. Sure, she calls me a lot, but we haven't spent face-time together yet. He could hardly stand the anticipation.

And we were about to spend a whole week with each other. We'd never had a whole week before, and I was looking forward to it.

Ranger's son Jerry picked us up at the airport. When my bag came off the carousel, though, I was a little upset. It was almost new - this was the second time I'd traveled with it. It's bright pink, and I had a carry-on to match. It came off the carousel absolutely filthy and with a hole ripped in the back of it.

I marched it over to the airline baggage office, which was about two feet away. I waited as the poor man behind the counter finished dealing with a man who spoke little English and was looking for a camera he'd left on a plane. Five weeks before. This wasn't going well.

Finally, the man looked at my bag, went to his computer, and printed up a form for me. "Here," he said. "Take this to the counter at your home airport, and they'll get it fixed."

"That's all I need?" I asked.

"Yep, that's it."

I put it in my bag and we were off. Jerry's air conditioning didn't work, so it was a long little drive. We got settled at our hotel and waited for Ranger's daughter Chelsea to call and say she was ready. She was with a tutor.

Picking her up was going to be an event. We had to go to her mom's boyfriend's house to get her, which meant an awkward meeting for both Ranger and me. Ranger has been designing an ecommerce Web site for the boyfriend, and the guy is an impatient ass. And I got to meet the ex. The one who tells her kids my religion is a cult and tries to yank Ranger's chain all the time.

She's been pissed since he met me because he reacts less and less to her yanking. And I have to admit to some fear over this meeting. He hasn't seen her since he left when their divorce was final. He's been nervous about how to handle the situation if she wants a hug from him. He doesn't want to hug her, and I wondered why. I wondered how he would feel, looking at her face-to-face again and touching her. It's easy to emotionally separate from someone when they are far away. What would happen when the woman he was married to for 19 years is right in front of him?

I was honest with him about my misgivings. He understood. He was nervous that she'd pull something while we were there, to disrupt either his time with his kids or his relationship with me. He said he was glad I'd be there, though. He'd also feel better once his storage stuff was out of there. As long as it was there, he felt she had something to hang over him, something she could gain access to and cause a problem for him.

As we drove to the boyfriend's house to get Chelsea, Ranger chatted nervously with Jerry. We turned into the neighborhood. Ranger remarked that it looked nice. One of those cookie-cutter neighborhoods. His ex had bragged about this boyfriend's home, job, and possessions. Funny, we couldn't tell you anything about what the guy was like from what she said, but could tell you all about what he has. What does that say to you?

She opened the front door, and I was struck by her gauntness. She'd had that stomach-band surgery years ago and lost 160 pounds. It was part of the downfall of their marriage. As she became thinner and attracted more male attention, she realized she liked all the male attention and being married became very inconvenient. When Ranger balked at threesomes, she lost interest in including him in extramarital relations.

Okay, that's one thing I can tell you about the boyfriend that isn't about his possessions. He lets her have threesomes, and even finds the other guy to participate. She likes to tell Ranger these things.

"You must be Blogget," the ex said as she opened the door. She shook my hand as I stepped inside. Ranger came up behind me.

"Is a hand shake or a hug appropriate?" she asked him. She had that Cheshire Cat grin, as she reached for a hug. He did the one-arm-sideways hug. He blouse fell off her shoulder, draping almost to her elbow. It was about three sizes too big.

Ranger warned me that she likes to wear clothes that are too big because she likes to draw attention to her weight loss. It's part of her identity, it seems, and she makes it a conversation piece. But I noticed how her collarbone jutted out, like the edges of her shoulder bones, and her sunken cheeks. The weight loss looked like it had gone too far.

We met the boyfriend, who looks like a doughier version of Mr. Clean. Then, Chelsea came at us in a rush. She flung her arms around her dad and squeezed for all it was worth. She was wearing a t-shirt we'd given her. Then, she flung her arms around me and squeezed me for all it was worth. I thought Ranger was going to cry for a moment.

I gave the ex a book she'd mentioned wanting. It was one I'd read and loved. It broke the ice a little, as I hoped.

As Chelsea finished her math homework, we sat in the living room, opposite the ex and her boyfriend. Ranger was uncomfortable. He sat close, but leaned away as he talked to his son. I talked to the ex. She asked about our travels and my kids. She's seen them on Facebook. She kept bringing up "remember when...." things to Ranger, which excluded me and her boyfriend from the conversation.

Suddenly, Ranger wasn't leaning away. He held my hand tight. She looked at her boyfriend and took his hand. They talked a little about his business.

Then, Chelsea was finished and we were off to dinner at a burger place that Jerry loved. It was a great place, I had to admit. We bumped into some of Jerry's friends, who were among those coming to help load the storage into the truck over the next two days.

Something we noticed immediately was that Jerry and Chelsea had lots to say. It was like we'd released a dam or something. They would talk over each other, at times. They were completely starved for attention, for someone to actually listen and care what they had to say. Jerry talked about video games and his tech support job. Chelsea talked about....everything. As a teenage girl is supposed to.

I noticed that Chelsea talked a lot about being bisexual. She talked about her crushes, male and female. Ranger and I have known this about her for months. It's something she only recently decided to risk telling her mother. She fears judgement, and understandably so, but talked openly with us. Ranger commented on that later, being thankful she had an outlet to talk about this part of herself with us.

I got up to get refills for Chelsea and me. "She's a keeper," she said to Ranger, who was beyond delighted.

We returned to the hotel. Chelsea and Ranger went swimming. Jerry and I talked. Well, Jerry talked. About computers, games, our cell phones, and the apps we can get for them.

Jerry, Chelsea, and I have new Palm phones. Ranger is waiting for the time when he can upgrade his. So, the three of us are constantly checking in wherever we go, using GoWalla.com. Which makes Ranger's Twitter feeds for us go off on his phone. He rolls his eyes. "Gee, I wonder what that could be," he says, laughing at us. Back home, he's still rolling his eyes when he gets a GoWalla message!

Finally, the kids headed home, and we crashed. The day had been exhausting. We laid in bed and talked about the kids and how the day had gone. Spending time with them had been delightful, and they had so much they wanted to talk about. Jerry was quieter than Chelsea, but we saw him opening up more already.

"By the way," Ranger said. "I'm not sure my ex knows what to make of you."

"What do you mean," I asked.

"Well, to her, being thin is the be-all and end-all to beauty," he said.

Let me say that here that we are both well aware that I'm not a Skinny Mini. I never will be. I'm not built for it. I've lost 60 pounds since moving here, which has served to deepen my curves. Much to Ranger's delight. He finds "skinny" to be repulsive. He's a big guy. He wants a woman he isn't afraid he's going to break.

I'm what you might call buxom. Simply put, I've often had the problem of having to say, "I'm up here," to guys when they talk to me because they focus on my chest.

Which is apparently what the ex's boyfriend was doing while we were visiting that afternoon.

"I'm afraid she's going to do something to get that attention back on her," he said. "It's not enough to have just his attention, but she'll want mine, too." He's right. This is the yanking-the-chain thing she does, to see what she has to do to get a reaction from him.

The next morning, that shoe dropped.

A muddled call from Chelsea, saying she wasn't going to school because her brother couldn't take her. Because he was on the way to the hospital. To see why their mom was at the ER.

The story goes that she felt faint during the night. The boyfriend thought her blood pressure dropped. He called her dad to ask what to do and was told to take her to the hospital. Soon, Ranger got a call from his ex.

"It's a pulmonary embolism," she said, calling Ranger while she was alone in her hospital room. "But I don't want to alarm the kids. Just go on with your regular plans. I'll call later and we can tell them when you are all together. That way, you're with them when they freak out."

She went on to say that the doctors were going to do tests all day to find the blockage and decide how to fix it. Now, I'm fully aware of how serious and deadly this condition can be. So, I was completely willing to put off our plans so the kids could be with their mom, if need be. But she said no, so we went along our way.

They picked us up, and we headed into the city. We went to the city market area, which is filled with vendors on weekends for a farmer's market. I love those, but this was a weekday. Our goal was a museum that the kids picked out. I couldn't believe they actually picked a museum! It's a very specific one surrounding an old steamboat, which hit a snag and sank into the Missouri River in 1856. It stayed there for 132 years, until some excavators dug it out of the mud beneath what had become a farmer's field.

You can check it out at the Steamboat Arabia Museum page. This museum was impressive. The boat had to be massive. They brought forth the aft portion of the boat, including the rudder (see right), and thousands of artifacts from the ship's cargo. This cargo was intended for 52 general stores at 17 stops along the ship's route, in addition to the personal artifacts of the boat's pioneer passengers.

This place is miraculous. The things they recovered from the mud, in perfectly preserved condition, are nothing short of amazing. Literally thousands, as you can see below (you can click on these to make them larger). This is just one room of many, behind glass, with items recovered from the cargo hold.


Some of the most amazing artifacts were food stuffs. The excavators actually opened a jar of pickles and tried them. Still sweet and crunchy. After 132 years. This picture includes just a few of these items, including ketchup!

The only casualty was a mule. In the sinking, they didn't have time to save the mule. He died with his proverbial boots on. His skeleton (below) was found with the tack still on it. Kinda spooky, isn't it?


I just love this image of the big paddle wheel. It's at the end of the tour and puts off a beautiful, cool breeze.

Apparently, a bunch of the pioneers on board were Mormon pioneers, headed for Salt Lake City. So, the museum includes a display explaining the Mormons and their trek. This gave me the golden opportunity to explain my ancestors - and that we're not cultists. Thankyouverymuch.

They also have part of their preservation lab open to the public. So, you can watch them working on the artifacts. Which is ultimately cool to a techno-dork like me.

The ex finally called while we were having dinner. She talked to each of them, but she didn't mention the phrase "pulmonary embolism." In fact, she just said they were running tests, and it was nothing to worry about. Later, she told Ranger that they couldn't locate the blockage, so she'd be in the hospital another night.

The next day, we picked up a 26-foot moving truck and the guys started loading up Ranger's storage. The storage room was 10' x 10' and was stuffed to the gills. Wall-to-wall and ceiling-to-floor. Solid.

"I don't remember doing this," Ranger said, staring at the wall of boxes. He'd packed it while reeling from what was happening with his ex. It had been Christmas time. She was suddenly being very loving to him. Was she regretting filing for divorce? Was a reconciliation on the horizon? Finally, they fell into bed again. He was elated. Until she promptly kicked him to the couch after she was done. Then, she informed him of her New Year's date with her mystery boyfriend (his pal), and that he'd have to be home with the kids. He was in an emotional tailspin when he packed his things into storage.

The vast majority was his rock shop inventory. Which is why we needed the big truck, for the weight of the rocks.

We had lunch with Chelsea and Jerry, and Jerry's friends. Chelsea and I spent most of our time running to Walmart for new storage bins (some of Ranger's had collapsed)and water for the fellas, and a good long time at a big bookstore, looking at books and games. At one point, we sat together on a bench, reading books and showing the good parts to each other.

"This is really fun," she said, looking up at me. "Sitting together and reading. This is so great." On her recommendation, I bought a game for us all to play at the hotel.

She spent a lot of time chatting on the phone with my daughter, too. They started making a list of the things they have in common, which is eerily long. We talked a lot about boys and relationships, school, marching band, step-siblings, and siblings. We didn't talk much about her mother because I didn't think that would be fair.

It was painfully obvious that neither of the kids talked to her much anymore, mostly because she had separated herself from them, spending all of her time with her boyfriend. I feel bad for her. Someday, she'll see the chasm that's formed and that regret will be very painful.

The kids went to see their mom in the hospital. Chelsea read "Romeo and Juliet" to her, and Jerry sat by. She told them she'd be released the next day, and she'd go to her boyfriend's so he could take care of her. She still didn't say what was wrong with her.

The next day, we went to the ex's house with the big truck, so Ranger could pick up a cabinet that was in her garage. "I want my father there when you get the cabinet," she said to Ranger on the phone. "So that I'm sure you just get what's yours. You can use the handtruck, but that's mine, so leave it there." It actually wasn't hers, according to the divorce papers, but Ranger left that alone.

As they loaded the truck, Chelsea took me in the house to introduce me to her cat. She gave me the grand tour of all that was important to her. It was really very nice. I enjoyed each moment, and she loved involving me in her inner circle, so to speak.

Before we left, we chatted with the ex's father. He was a nice man, obviously in an awkward position, having to watch Ranger. The conversation turned to the ex's health trouble.

"Did they find the blockage?" Ranger asked.

His former father-in-law gave him a strange look. "Blockage? No, it's not a blockage. She's anemic. Bad enough that her blood isn't carrying the oxygen to her brain and heart right. That's why she's been having so many memory problems. They finally got it righted, though, and she should be able to take care of it."

Ranger knew about the memory problems, which was why he liked to deal with her in email, so it's all in writing. But anemia? And not a blockage? Hmmm.

That night, we played the game I'd bought. At one point, Jerry put his head down and his whole body was shaking with laughter. Chelsea said she's never seen him laugh so hard. We had a spectacular time together. As they left, she commented, "That was really good family time." It brought tears to Ranger's eyes, having us all together like that.

We were leaving on Easter Sunday. I put together little Easter baskets for them. Chelsea got a stuffed bunny and Jerry got a big egg, with Nerds candy in it. She hugged her bunny, while he looked at the Nerds egg and said, "If I eat this, is it cannibalism?"

We hit the road with 9,000 pounds of rocks in the truck. No kidding. And tears on Ranger's face, having to say goodbye to his children again. I promised him we'd make it back sooner rather than later, or bring them to see us.

We had the better part of three days in the truck ahead of us. Because my spine is still healing, we broke the trip into shorter trips, allowing for lots of stops for me. I can tell you this, though, if you're crossing Kansas and Colorado. The Days Inn in Colby, Kansas, looks nice on the outside and is rotten on the inside. And they really don't care. And the Quality Inn in Glenwood Springs, CO, is glorious.

We woke on our last morning together, in Glenwood Springs, to a blanket of snow across everything. It always snows when we travel in the winter. And it always makes me want to make love all morning.

It should be noted here that Ranger's ex hasn't spoken to him since the trip. She's made snarky comments in the background of his conversations with his kids, but she won't speak directly to him. She's mad. He is convinced that he was expected to rush to her side at the hospital, leaving me in the dust. But he didn't. We proceeded through our plans, together.

In other words, she yanked the chain, and he didn't jump.

Normally, this would worry him. He'd fear percussions. But somehow that spell has been broken. She's lost some of her leverage. And the rest he figures we can deal with. Together.

A tad bit of good news

My sister sold her house! Whew! So, after nearly a year of making my life absolute hell, she's moving to California.

Yeah, she still giving it a try with her louse of a husband, mostly because she's built this heroic image of him to her kids while he's been gone. So, they really want to be with him. I understand, though. You have to feel like you've done everything in your power to save your marriage before you walk away from it.

And I don't know how her kids would deal with a divorce. Still, I fully expect him to screw it all up, but breaking their hearts and hers.

We'll see what happens. But for now...she's getting out of my hair. I don't think my relationship with my mother will ever be the same, though. I'm fully aware that the next time my sister is here, my mother can and will turn on me.

I'll never trust her the same way again. She's forced me into a place where I can't care what she thinks of me and my life anymore. I still get twinges of missing how it was. I kind of mourn for that. My most rewarding relationships are elsewhere now.

Stay Tuned.!

I told a coworker yesterday that I feel like my job is one big Whack-A-Mole game. And some of those moles I'd like to whack harder than others.

Life is a little overwhelming at the moment, but I have lots to tell, dear Diary. I've traveled three times since the end of March. I've met Ranger's daughter. A friend came to interview here, and we had a marvelous time...until he made me look like an idiot to the one person at the office who really needs to think I'm fantastic. I've had my annual evaluation at work, with mixed results. I've been to two conferences.

Things are going gang-busters! But I haven't had time to write. I'm carving out that time ASAP. I promise.

And a good time was had by all....

Daughter and I went to Salt Lake City for her Spring Break. Five days in a nice hotel, with nothing to do but the fun things we planned ourselves. Or rather, that she planned. I let her take the lead on these trips, since this is our third annual trip to what she calls "Mormon Disneyland."

We took our time getting on the road that first day. A stop at Walmart for snacks and drinks. Breakfast with Ranger. Put all of our potential destinations in the GPS's "favorites" menu. Point the car west, and off we go!

Note: I say "Off we go!" a lot. My daughter thinks it sounds like Spanish, so now she says, "Afuego!" (which really is a Spanish word) whenever we go some place. Silly girl.

As we entered tiny little Wellington, Utah, she noticed that the itsy tiny town actually has two Mormon church buildings, or "meetinghouses." See, you get a new church building when you have enough people to fill it. It says something about the LDS population there that a little town has as many meetinghouses as Lubbock, Texas - population 200,000-ish.

So, Daughter made up a new game for traveling in Utah. Instead of Slug Bug, we now have Slug-a-Meetinghouse. We spent the rest of the drive irreverently looking for the distinctive LDS steeples, so we could (softly) punch each other in the arm.

I recently got a Palm Pre. Daughter found a free app for keeping score in Slug Bug games, but we now use it for meetinghouses. How fun is that?

Finally, we arrived in Salt Lake City, at our favorite hotel. It's located on the same street as Temple Square and the Gateway Mall area, equal distance from each. How much more convenient can you get, when those two locations are Daughter's biggest priorities? It is also a block from the theater where we were going to see comedian Brian Regan perform. If you haven't seen him, you must go straight to YouTube and have a look! Good, clean humor, suitable for my daughter. And she just loves him.

Dinner was at the hotel, where they serve a kind of rustic-nouveau cuisine. Daughter had a Caesar salad that didn't quite turn out as she imagined. Long leaves of lettuce, wrapped in fried-to-a-crisp cheese thing, with a mountain of tomatoes, and a drizzle of dressing. We had a tiny table that ended up filled like a puzzle with square and rectangular dishes. Even the manager commented on our "very full table top."

The room was heaven. A lovely view of the city at night. Sleep Number beds, which were a riot to play with. Each morning, we had a good laugh at the Mommy- and Daughter-shaped crevasses we left in our beds.

Daughter had planned many sights to see. Temple Square, shopping at the Gateway Mall (namely, Build-a-Bear Workshop), Hogle Zoo, the Children's Museum, the planetarium, Heritage Park, Pioneer History Museum, and dinner at the Mayan Adventure, with all the hot divers jumping into the water before you, as you have dinner. Yeah, she's not old enough to date, but is gaining an appreciation for quality man-flesh. The Twilight series and their ripped actors have done this for her.

However, a pattern emerged as the trip actually got underway. Not much of this agenda proved to be a big priority. Each day, she's wake up about 10:00-11:00 and start talking. She'd get ready and talk until 1:00 or later. It was like she had stored up all these things to say and discuss when we were alone, without being surrounded by a houseful of prying eyes and ears. It was painfully obvious to me that she felt we had no private place or uninterupted time at home, where she could speak freely, and I could respond freely.

She talked about school, church, friends, family, home, and all of the ups and downs of her daily life. She just talked and talked. Sitting in the hotel room, facing each other on our respective cushy beds, I couldn't think of anything better I'd rather do. I didn't care one bit about what we were missing or what we could be doing out in the city. My teenage daughter wanted to talk to me, and no one else.

How huge of a treasure is that? And I'll always cherish that memory, of just sitting peacefully and listening to her, my lovely daughter. I couldn't be more proud of her.

When we finally left the hotel, we'd look for food first. She had a list of restaurants we simply had to go to, and what she wanted there. We found a new one, though. And it's now on her "have to" list.

It's a wonderful sushi restaurant we found around the corner. She became sushi-obsessed! We ate there twice. Some of it had to do with this delightful thing they had called Ramune soda. It has a marble in it. When you get it, you press on the top and it shoots this glass marble into the bottle, where it's helpd in a chamber that keeps you from swallowing it. It's a light, refreshing soda, too. Are we suckers for marketing or what?

Then, we headed to the Children's museum, which was really meant for small children to pass many hours in hands-on learning play. A friend recommended it to Daughter. She enjoyed it, anyhow, and made her first stop-motion animated film there! It's about three seconds long and ends with a blood-curdling scream. Gotta love it.

Of course, she had to make a stop at Build-a-Bear, and...uh...build a bear. These stuffed animals have become her souvenier of choice when we travel. We sat on a patio and had Ben and Jerry's ice cream, and watched the water feature they have in the Gateway plaza, with Olympic music playing. The water feature is built on the logo from the 2002 Olympics in Salt Lake. Kinda fun.

The Mayan Adventure was as fun as ever. Entering this place feels like you're going into a ride at Disneyland. Daughter got a spectacular dessert that actually has fireworks on top. It spews brilliantly for about a minute. It's the only thing that distracted her from the divers.... She took a lot of pictures.

Besides shopping and eating, our sightseeing ended up being Temple Square. That's all, but we spent hours there. Daughter took 79 pictures in that area alone.

Something is very spiritually-nourishing to her, just being there. We like to lay our hands on the temple itself and talk about our ancestors, who helped build it so long ago. And the trouble they went through to be there, and work on it.

Watching her take her pictures, she seemed so small beside this grand structure. I took the one to the right, standing at the base. It's an awesome perspective to me. Oh, I could go on....

Saturday was our big day. She was so excited to go see Brian Regan at Abravanel Hall. So, we woke up slowly that morning. I noticed that it was getting late in the morning, but the usual bright sunshine wasn't peeking through the curtains. So, I opened them. And saw this....


No, not fog. That's snow. You should be able to see tall buildings in this shot. But no....there's snow.

We wandered down the street for lunch, at a cafe by Temple Square. It looked link this:


Again, you should see buildings behind the temple. But it's snow. We just couldn't believe it! We'd had such bright sunshine before that day! And we were to head into the mountains, going home the next day. It was a little worrisome.

That night, after the hilarity of the comedy show, we had dinner at the Garden Restaurant. It's at the top of the building beside Temple Square, and had the creme brullee thatwas on Daughter's list. The dining room has huge windows, overlooking the temple. As darkness fell, the spires of the temple were lit. One at a time, the lights on each spire would gradually start to glow and gain brightness in the dark and fog. When all six spires were lit, I realized again that the fog was snow, as the large flakes were silhouetted against the glow. It was a breathtaking sight.

We took our time leaving the next day, giving Soldier Pass a chance to thaw a little. I'd tried to check the highway cam online to see the conditions, but the camera's lense was covered with snow. That alone told me something.

Finally, we made our way home. Back to the chaos that we call home, anyhow. Daughter was a little quieter on the drive back. But we each carry brilliant memories of our time together. Our special time each year, that I'll treasure always.

How to make a difference to someone

This person probably has no idea he's impacted my daughter's life as much as he has. I wish I'd get the chance to tell him.

He's the kid front and center in the photo on this post. He's a senior at her school, the lead in the school production of "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory." He was so phenomenal in the role (including the unicycle riding) that they did not cast an understudy. The comparison would not have been fair.

The entire production was unbelievable, not to mention that a high school did this. The sets were incredible, including the scenes where Augustus gets sucked up the chocolate pipe and where Charlie and hig grandfather are floating around with the bubbles. We were mesmerized.

That said, he's also an award-winning drum major for the marching band. There's a couple of videos on YouTube.com of their homecoming performance. If you want to sit through them (one is short and one is long), you'll see why he's award-winning. He's the tall kid, front and center, in the orange uniform. Born to perform, I swear.

The short one - the Drum Major entrance

The longer one - the performance

Daughter is a freshman. She's new to the drumline. She should fly under his senior-status radar. Or so you'd think.

But no. I first saw him during marching band rehearsals, during the summer. I had picked up Daughter and a couple of friends for lunch, during one of their breaks. This boy pulled up beside us at a stoplight, his car overflowing with other senior friends.

Slowly and dramaticly, he turned a sunglass-topped grin over his should at Daughter and her friends in my car.

"Hey girl! How you doin'?" Which started a small chorus of "How you doin'?" from his pals.

Daughter cracked up at him, which seemed to make him smile, as we left the stop light.

When school started, she was delighted that he was one of the upperclassmen who went out of their way to say "hi" to her in the hallways. Her friends were appropriately impressed that it was the first day at their new school, and Daughter already had friends established. And senior friends at that! Ah...high school society....

After the school-year rehearsals started, the band still spent time doing stretches to prepare for practice. Daughter is quite body-conscious....or rather, self-conscious....and hates doing public stretches. But the band kids must pick a spot on the ground and go to it. She just wanted to shrink into the ground and get it over with.

But here comes this drum major. He picks a spot right beside her and says, "Hey Daughter! How are you doing?"

He engages her in conversaton about starting high school, her classes, teachers, band....then another upperclassman approaches.

"Hey, did you hear about...." he starts, to the drum major. He literally walked into the middle of the conversation and started a new one, excluding Daughter. She assumed she'd just gone by the wayside, being "just" a freshman.

"Wait a minute," says the drum major. "You just interupted my conversation here with Daughter."

The other boy laughs, taking it as a joke. "Yeah. So, did you..." he keeps going.

"I'm serious, man," says drum major. "Can't you see I'm having a very important conversation with Daughter here? You're going to have to wait." He says it with just enough humor in his voice that the other kid isn't offended, but he makes his point. The other kid waits his turn.

And Daughter finishes her conversation with someone who made her feel like what she had to say really mattered.

A lot of teenage girls would develop a crush on someone with this dynamic personality, who made them feel important. Not Daughter. She has a great respect for him as a leader, and a friend. She's watched him help lead their marching band through some tough things this year. His humor and charisma helped keep their pride up.

I don't know if he understands how he impacts others by just being himself. I hope I get the chance to tell him, as this kid heads off into the adult world. I'm hoping it'll be a life lesson he takes with him. I hope the world is good to him.

Whirlwind times ahead

Life is about to get a little crazy, but pretty fun. For the next three months, I've planned a lot of travel with the significant people in my life. It's going to require some frugal living to pull it off, but I'm hoping it'll all be worth it.

Next week, Daughter and I embark on our annual trip to Salt Lake City. She just loves it there and just can't wait for those few days every year when it's just she and Mommy, treating ourselves to a quiet hotel, seeing the sights, and casual shopping.

This year, we're throwing in something new. Comedian Brian Regan is performing at the theater just down the street from our hotel. He's has a family-friendly act and Daughter loves him, so we'll see him next week. Combining that with what we love seeing there anyhow, and it's going to be a nice time together, away from the craziness that is our home right now.

One good thing on that front is that others in the household have recognized the need for a teenage girl to have her own space. So, things have been rearranged for Daughter to have her own room back. I also suspect that my mother was afraid my sister and her brood were getting a little too comfortable, and the feeling was a little too permanent. And they were abusing Daughter's room. Posters pulled from the wall and trompled on the floor. Keeping it filthy with dirty clothes. So, we saved it. And now Daughter is decorating everything with tiger stripes, to reflect her school pride. Gotta love it.

At the end of March, I'll travel with Ranger to Missouri. He has a storage building of merchandise for his online store that needs to be moved here, so he can actually sell the stuff. And I'll get to meet his daughter for the first time. She and I are acquainted over the phone. She calls me all the time, especially when her mother has disappeared to her boyfriend's house for days at a time. His daughter is a year older than mine, and we have a lot in common. Since she's left to her own devices so often and for so long, I don't mind if she calls me in the middle of the night. I'd rather she do that than meet up with a hormone-driven boy....that could be disastrous.

We'll have about five days with his kids. I've met his son already. He's 21 and a techno-geek, so we also have a lot in common. Ranger is afraid of his ex pulling shenanigans with the kids, concerning me. She tries to undermine us getting along, anyhow. I wish she'd realize that you want your kids to get along with a potential step-parent. I've been there when they don't, and it's an unbelievable headache for everyone involved.

He's also afraid she'll try to disrupt our relationship. When I met him, she was really jerking him around. She rejected him, but liked to yank the chain still, to see if he'd jump for her. She likes control. A lot. She bragged to him the other day that she'd gotten her new boyfriend to do something for her that Ranger would never do. Her new boyfriend found a male friend to join in a threesome with them. It was said in the tone of "see how much better he is than you," and was hurtful to him.

Anyhow, Ranger and I have made a pact. No private conversations with her. If she wants to say something privately to one of us, we will make it clear that she can say whatever it is in front of the other one. No secrets.

Mid-April, I have my annual conference in Vail, Colorado. Four nights at a work-paid ski resort, during the last week of the ski season. Ranger will go with me again, like last year. It's so nice to go back to the room after a day of talking shop and being hit up by vendors, to have him waiting and anxious to pamper me and relax me in any way I like. And some ways I didn't even think of on my own! Last year, we had a balcony that overlooked the mountain and the ski runs. Vail is really beautiful, especially with someone who wants to enjoy it with you.

Then, May comes and, with it, the end of my son's high school career. A week after he finishes his classes, we've planned a trip together. It's probably the last time I'll get to do something like this with him.

I asked him what he wanted to see.

"Where's a good car museum?" he asked.

So, we're going to a huge (125,000 square foot) classic car museum in Las Vegas. We've searched all the attractions there and now have tickets to the car museum, Madame Tussaud's, and Circque du Soleil. Woo hoo!

I'm a little nervous about the drive to and from Vegas. Son likes to poke at me and try to get a reaction. In short, he likes to say things to piss me off. I think it's his particular brand of control, really. I just don't want to spend this little holiday pissed off.

Son has recently been accepted to the college where I work. We've been discussing majors and visiting with professors. He's on the cusp of his own life. And I will always miss the little boy he was, and worry a little about the man he's become.

Valentine's for everyone

We celebrated Valentine's Day a couple of days early. I took Friday the 12th off of work, for a couple of reasons. See, I'd planned a surprise for my folks. Our home is overrun right now, and they never do anything for themselves. It's a crazymaker for them. So, for Valentine's, I booked that weekend for them at a nice hotel in Glenwood Springs, which is far enough away to be a good getaway from everything without being a long drive. I also included a gift certificate for a nice Valentine's dinner, so that they could go out without worrying about the price.

I'd called ahead to the hotel in Glenwood Springs, to see if I could get into it early and set up a gift basket, bubbly, and some flowers for my folks. Not only did they allow me to do that, but they'd also upgraded their room to a suite! Woo hoo! My folks never take time for themselves. This was going to blow them away!

So, Friday the 12th, I met up with Ranger early in the morning. We were going to exchange gifts, then drive to Glenwood Springs together to get everything set up before my folks were to arrive.

Ranger gave me the most adorable teddy bear, a giant box of truffles, and three of the sweetest Valentine's cards I've ever seen. We had a unique problem this year -- every card we looked at seemed to say something so true about our relationship. About our history, our struggles, our deepest feelings....there was no way to pick just one. He also wrote sweet notes to me in each one, expressing even more than what the cards could say.

Then, it was my turn. I gave him some hazelnut chocolates (he loves hazelnut), two cards, and the book I mentioned before. You know, the "How I love you" one that you fill in yourself?

First, I showed him the cover. He read, "How I love you," and said it was so sweet.

I said, "But wait! There's more!" I opened the book and fanned through the pages. His jaw dropped as he saw all the writing in it. He took it from me, amazed.

"Is this what you've been saying you're 'working on' all week?" he asked, flipping through the writing.

"Yes," I said. I pointed out the last two pages, which were completely filled with writing. "This is what I was doing when you called last night."

He gathered me in his arms and buried his face in my shoulder. With my arms around him, I felt him trembling as he started to weep. "Thank you, thank you," he whispered.

He took my face in his hands, to look directly into my eyes. "No one has ever, EVER, gone to so much trouble for me," he said. "For just me. To make me feel loved." I wiped the tears from his cheeks, and we sat close as he read some of the book.

Soon, we climbed into the car together and headed down the road. It was a nice drive, about an hour and a half. Soon, snow was falling on us. We watched elk near the road, careful to slow so we didn't hit any. I wanted to call and warn my folks about heading into snow, but couldn't give away where I was. So, I had my sister pretend she'd seen it on the weather online.

Ranger and I picked up some flowers at a shop near the hotel. My mom called about then. "We're on our way now," she said. "I just wanted you to know, we're so excited! Thank you for doing this for us!"

I told her to be careful, then we headed into the hotel. The front desk people were expecting us and gave me the key to the suite. It was spectacular! Full of lovely antiques, with a separate sitting room for them. We set up the basket on the couch, filled the ice bucket to chill the non-alcoholic bubbly, set out two champagne flutes, and the vase of roses. In the flowers, we put a card that said, "Decor by Blogget and Ranger." Then, we made our escape to our favorite restaurant, about a block away.

About 30 minutes later, my phone rings. "You went all-out!" my mother was exclaiming! They'd just walked in the door of the suite and were completely overwhelmed.

"There's a gift basket! And flowers! And some bubbly! Do we get to keep those glasses?"

"Yes, you do," I said, laughing. I don't hear my mother delighted very often, especially not by something I've done lately.

"And they upgraded us to a suite!"

"Yes, I know!"

She stopped. "Wait...how do you know?"

"They told me when I called about getting into the room early to set things up."

"You did all this! I thought the hotel did! How did you get it here?"

"I drove up. Ranger helped me. In fact, we're still here."

"Here? You're here? You went to so much trouble! Where are you?"

"Eating lunch down the block. Then, we'll head back."

"Be careful," she said. "It's snowing here."

I had to laugh. I was watching it snow, too. We said our goodbyes, and I let them get to their quiet weekend away. They'd been searching travel books for things to do and had planned to explore the area the next day. That night, they'd have their romantic dinner in the same restaurant where I was having lunch that day.

Later, my mother would call me to tell me how incredible it was to them to be able to open a menu and not look at the prices. They'd never done that before. They got all that they wanted, and the bill came to 5 cents over the gift card amount.

The following day was dedicated to Daughter. Son had made plans with his girlfriend, but Daughter doesn't date yet. So, she invited her friends who didn't have boyfriends to a movie and dinner at our house. The highlight of the evening was to be the chocolate fountain. The girls couldn't be more excited!

This is how my Valentine's Eve was spent with the decibel-busting sounds of teenagers in my house. Ranger and I spent the evening in the kitchen, cooking up goodies for the crowd. We were peas in a pod! We daydream of cooking together, sharing the kitchen. It was hard work that night, but close and delightful. The chocolate fountain got a little messed up, but the girls didn't mind just dipping fruit and marshmallows into a bowl of melted chocolate.

Son even got home early and joined in the fun. His gift to his girlfriend kind of touched Ranger and me, too. He wanted to give her a flowering plant. And not just any plant. It had to be the same type of orchid Ranger had given me, just after we met.

"I remember when he did that," Son said. It was nearly two years ago. He had remembered and waited to do that for someone really special to him. That we'd made an impression on him -- that Ranger had -- was very meaningful to me.

Valentine's Day, I gave the gifts I'd picked up for the other family in my house. On a hunch, I'd picked up a little something for my sister. Good thing. As I'd suspected might happen, my thoughtful (not) brother-in-law had stiffed her for Valentine's. I couldn't stand to see her empty-handed, no matter how terrible she's been to me lately.

It was a weekend of happy tears, laughter, hugs, closeness, and sheer delight. I couldn't have dreamed of better.

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.