I have a couple of visions of how I see myself in life. If we cut through all the age stuff, I really would like to experience living in several walks of life. I've already lived the life of Wild West girl; it could've been more wild and cowgirl-like but it was enough for me. I also want to live life in a big city.
When I think big city, I always think of a HUGE city, I guess. More like Chicago or Boston or Seattle. I don't usually think of a Big City like my home state capital, though it is a BIG CITY with a population of almost a million folks, at 800,000. That's big considering I live in my hometown of 12,000 people, my county have 35,000 and my wild West town had 1500 people in the whole county with 300 in the town. And in Northern Civilization where I lived was just barely at 1/2 million people.
Leaving my hometown to live in a place with 1200 people is a big leap but was very easy, once I adjusted to the fact there were a million heads of cattle in my county and only 1200 people. That's okay. It was a weird change but I adapted quickly. There were lots of kind people and I got to know them in a short time. Moving to a big city, I think, won't be as easy so maybe starting with a small big city would be a better way to go. I will be pretty anonymous there which was the exact opposite of the Wild West where people knew me before I ever got in town.
I have a favorite section of the city, which is a little eclectic couple of blocks, a neighborhood with a real name like they have in the HUGE cities. It's quirky. Just in one block is a historic theater, a micro brewery, a vintage clothing shop, BBQ joint, a few galleries, a few ethnic hole in the wall cafes, a jazz club, and a store front public library branch, just to name a few. There's a city bus stop right there in the central part of the neighborhood. They have some cool apartments, nooks and cranny places to live wedged here and there, carriage houses and row homes. They're lots of a few story walk ups. It's like something out of a movie.
But I've always been able to picture myself in a place like this and it was like walking into my own dream. I can see myself working somewhere (I have no idea where- the library? the BBQ joint? the vintage clothing shop? somewhere up town?) and taking the bus too and from. I can see myself walking down those streets with a bulging brown bag of groceries. I can see myself walking my pet pig talking to people who are out and about, or sitting on the stoop reading. I can just SEE it and the thing is, I always have been able to see that picture. (Though sometimes I'm walking a dog, not always a pig). And I just found this neighborhood a few months ago. Something I've always been able to see in my mind's eye is suddenly a real place, right in front of me. A place I've never been nor heard of until just lately but have always thought about is suddenly a REAL PLACE! So is it a meant to be thing? Is it a sign?
It sure feels like it.
I've been hunting for a job in the CITY and stumbled on this neighborhood.
Dreams can come true.
Who said there aren't signs? Now if I could find that job....
Maggie
Showing posts with label is this really happening because I think I might need pinched. Show all posts
Showing posts with label is this really happening because I think I might need pinched. Show all posts
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Party Like a Rock Star... an Old Rock Star
I have a perfectly legit reason for not blogging yesterday. I was out until 3 am. Yes, me, out until 3 am. I didn't think I could do that anymore but I did. Damn...
ITSam and I dropped books off at my favorite used book store and I acquire some more for the school library. While there we met some cat who ended up giving me his business card because I was looking for the entire Michael Buble set of cds and he says he has over 4, 200 CDs and if I email him he'll give me HIS set. More on that in a later post!
Then he and I got some of my favorite cupcakes (tomorrow's post!) and grabbed dinner.
After dinner we decided we really weren't ready to go home. We thought we'd go somewhere to hear some music. Now neither of us were dressed for a club scene nor we were appareled correctly for a nice jazz club. So I agreed, with reticence, to go to a country bar he knew about. He said we could sit in a back booth, chill out, have a few drinks and maybe take a spin or two around the dance floor.
We arrived, parked, paid our cover and then learned there was no country music that night. My first thought was "yay!" until I heard the band. A classic rock band. That covered Poison, Scorpion, Ratt,, etc. Not even the "good" sort of classic rock. I was wishing for country.
But as not to be a killjoy I put my best foot forward, chugged a couple beers and sat back to people watch. Oh my god. It was... surreal. I was wishing I had my camera. You know that web site about the scary looking people at Wal-Mart? Well, I think this bar was where they came to socialize.
There was a woman who had to be in her mid 50s. She was UGLY! She hit every branch on the way down as she fell from the ugly tree! She was also way overly tan. And her body, while sorta skinny-ish, was droopy. And she had this ugly light brown hair all pulled back into a ponytail and then added one of those long extensions so it looked like it went to her butt. Only the extension was a white blonde color. No it didn't match her real color. And she wore blue eye shadow and orange frosted lipstick right out of the 1980s. She also wore skinny jeans, black, with a studded belt. Studded as in goth not in Harley Davidson. And the worse this shirt thing. It was red and lacy and looked of like a negligee. It had a diving neck line and itty-bitty spaghetti straps. Did I mention she was in her mid 50s and her boobs were droopy and she wasn't wearing a bra??
Sam and I decided when her boobs fell out we were leaving.
She would dance and sway alone on the dance floor with one flimsy strap of that top off her shoulder and she would jiggle, with her eyes closed. she was drunk off her ass and couldn't walk a straight line. It was unreal. I can't remember ever seeing anything like that before. Ever.
We left before her boobs hit the floor but it was close. She did manage to take off her shoes and dance alone on the dance floor and once in awhile she perked up and sort of strutted like Mick Jagger.
Other things that were strange were fashions. The 80s are definitely in. There were tons of girls with ripped and holey jeans. Lots of ripped shirts dangling of shoulders- hello Flashdance called and would like her shirt back. One woman who was about 50 wore heels and pants that were totally from the end scene in Grease. And she too was unattractive. And then there was the woman and her friends and she was the one with no style. She had on "mom pants" and tennis shoes. She had on a t-shirt that was Tye-dyed. And she carried a Vera Bradley purse- one of the huge patterned soccer mom totes. Sam said nothing screams "I'm having my period and am old" like that look. Then there were the 2 couples who looked like they came from church....
Then there was the guy in the wheel chair who "danced" and was wearing dirty ripped sweat pants and a t-shirt he had ripped from under the arms to his waist and the young skinny crack whore looking chick who straddled him and bounced up and down on his lap while he buried his face in her non-existent boobs. Hello, Forrest Gump called and is looking for Lieutenant Dan.
The crowd was older. I was expecting it to be young. Well, was I wrong. It was a mixed, eclectic bag of folks but mostly it was older people. They were about my age and up, but mostly up. And dressed outrageously. And behaved outrageously.
Sam and I actually saw people we knew and while they were dressed appropriately they were pretty outrageous as well. I was sort of ashamed at their behavior.
The band made me laugh. They really all wanted to be Bret Michaels. They all wore torn jeans, tight jeans. And no shirts but leather vests. And had long, stick straight white blond hair. And they were old. they were my age or older, mostly older.
After we left we still didn't have enough night life so we tried one more country bar. They actually played country music and we danced and two-stepped. We had a few drinks and laughed and danced and sang.
I got home at 3am.
It was an awesomely fun time.
I can wait to do it again....
Maggie
ITSam and I dropped books off at my favorite used book store and I acquire some more for the school library. While there we met some cat who ended up giving me his business card because I was looking for the entire Michael Buble set of cds and he says he has over 4, 200 CDs and if I email him he'll give me HIS set. More on that in a later post!
Then he and I got some of my favorite cupcakes (tomorrow's post!) and grabbed dinner.
After dinner we decided we really weren't ready to go home. We thought we'd go somewhere to hear some music. Now neither of us were dressed for a club scene nor we were appareled correctly for a nice jazz club. So I agreed, with reticence, to go to a country bar he knew about. He said we could sit in a back booth, chill out, have a few drinks and maybe take a spin or two around the dance floor.
We arrived, parked, paid our cover and then learned there was no country music that night. My first thought was "yay!" until I heard the band. A classic rock band. That covered Poison, Scorpion, Ratt,, etc. Not even the "good" sort of classic rock. I was wishing for country.
But as not to be a killjoy I put my best foot forward, chugged a couple beers and sat back to people watch. Oh my god. It was... surreal. I was wishing I had my camera. You know that web site about the scary looking people at Wal-Mart? Well, I think this bar was where they came to socialize.
There was a woman who had to be in her mid 50s. She was UGLY! She hit every branch on the way down as she fell from the ugly tree! She was also way overly tan. And her body, while sorta skinny-ish, was droopy. And she had this ugly light brown hair all pulled back into a ponytail and then added one of those long extensions so it looked like it went to her butt. Only the extension was a white blonde color. No it didn't match her real color. And she wore blue eye shadow and orange frosted lipstick right out of the 1980s. She also wore skinny jeans, black, with a studded belt. Studded as in goth not in Harley Davidson. And the worse this shirt thing. It was red and lacy and looked of like a negligee. It had a diving neck line and itty-bitty spaghetti straps. Did I mention she was in her mid 50s and her boobs were droopy and she wasn't wearing a bra??
Sam and I decided when her boobs fell out we were leaving.
She would dance and sway alone on the dance floor with one flimsy strap of that top off her shoulder and she would jiggle, with her eyes closed. she was drunk off her ass and couldn't walk a straight line. It was unreal. I can't remember ever seeing anything like that before. Ever.
We left before her boobs hit the floor but it was close. She did manage to take off her shoes and dance alone on the dance floor and once in awhile she perked up and sort of strutted like Mick Jagger.
Other things that were strange were fashions. The 80s are definitely in. There were tons of girls with ripped and holey jeans. Lots of ripped shirts dangling of shoulders- hello Flashdance called and would like her shirt back. One woman who was about 50 wore heels and pants that were totally from the end scene in Grease. And she too was unattractive. And then there was the woman and her friends and she was the one with no style. She had on "mom pants" and tennis shoes. She had on a t-shirt that was Tye-dyed. And she carried a Vera Bradley purse- one of the huge patterned soccer mom totes. Sam said nothing screams "I'm having my period and am old" like that look. Then there were the 2 couples who looked like they came from church....
Then there was the guy in the wheel chair who "danced" and was wearing dirty ripped sweat pants and a t-shirt he had ripped from under the arms to his waist and the young skinny crack whore looking chick who straddled him and bounced up and down on his lap while he buried his face in her non-existent boobs. Hello, Forrest Gump called and is looking for Lieutenant Dan.
The crowd was older. I was expecting it to be young. Well, was I wrong. It was a mixed, eclectic bag of folks but mostly it was older people. They were about my age and up, but mostly up. And dressed outrageously. And behaved outrageously.
Sam and I actually saw people we knew and while they were dressed appropriately they were pretty outrageous as well. I was sort of ashamed at their behavior.
The band made me laugh. They really all wanted to be Bret Michaels. They all wore torn jeans, tight jeans. And no shirts but leather vests. And had long, stick straight white blond hair. And they were old. they were my age or older, mostly older.
After we left we still didn't have enough night life so we tried one more country bar. They actually played country music and we danced and two-stepped. We had a few drinks and laughed and danced and sang.
I got home at 3am.
It was an awesomely fun time.
I can wait to do it again....
Maggie
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Why him?
Whenever I hear Springsteen, I think of Trooper. I have no idea why, but just his music makes me think of Trooper and I have to smile. Maybe because the day I decided to tell him he curled my toes, I heard the song "Back in your Arms Again" by The Boss and now every time I hear Springsteen, I think of Trooper.
Trooper is so.... good. He's solid. He's so strong. He's brilliant- smart, the type of smart that leaves me awe struck. He's practical. He's fearless. He's sexy. He's humble, kind and generous. He's... earthy? No, that makes him sound all granola- tree hugger like and he's not. He just... masculine. He's sure of himself. He can build a house, fix a car, hunt animals, and chop wood with an axe. He's a MAN. And that. is. so. hot.
Here's my realization. Follow me if you will. I always thought I wanted someone in my life who wished on falling stars. While I don't believe it's going to make my wishes come true, I still do it. I like the whimsy behind that idea, and what if it did come true! Enchanted is the word, I think. So I always thought I wanted a guy who wished on stars because that might mean he's got that side of him that lets him wish on stars. Now, Trooper doesn't wish on stars. But what I do KNOW about him is this: he doesn't care that I wish on stars; actually, he thinks it's sweet, and he would never burst my bubble of that silly little wish- he understands. So I guess what I really wanted was not necessarily a man who wished on stars, but let me wish on them, with a smile on his face.
Staying with my star analogy I also know he can see stars in a crowded city. He can close his eyes or even gazing into the city cluttered sky, he can still see our Wild West sky anywhere he is. I do that, too. I drive out in the country here in Civilization and though I can't see nearly as many stars as I could in the Wild West, I can still see them. We are very much alike in many ways.
He makes me want to be a better woman,
Maggie
Trooper is so.... good. He's solid. He's so strong. He's brilliant- smart, the type of smart that leaves me awe struck. He's practical. He's fearless. He's sexy. He's humble, kind and generous. He's... earthy? No, that makes him sound all granola- tree hugger like and he's not. He just... masculine. He's sure of himself. He can build a house, fix a car, hunt animals, and chop wood with an axe. He's a MAN. And that. is. so. hot.
Here's my realization. Follow me if you will. I always thought I wanted someone in my life who wished on falling stars. While I don't believe it's going to make my wishes come true, I still do it. I like the whimsy behind that idea, and what if it did come true! Enchanted is the word, I think. So I always thought I wanted a guy who wished on stars because that might mean he's got that side of him that lets him wish on stars. Now, Trooper doesn't wish on stars. But what I do KNOW about him is this: he doesn't care that I wish on stars; actually, he thinks it's sweet, and he would never burst my bubble of that silly little wish- he understands. So I guess what I really wanted was not necessarily a man who wished on stars, but let me wish on them, with a smile on his face.
Staying with my star analogy I also know he can see stars in a crowded city. He can close his eyes or even gazing into the city cluttered sky, he can still see our Wild West sky anywhere he is. I do that, too. I drive out in the country here in Civilization and though I can't see nearly as many stars as I could in the Wild West, I can still see them. We are very much alike in many ways.
He makes me want to be a better woman,
Maggie
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Trooper update
As far as when this post was written, all is well. I say this because he find dating stressful. I also say this because the other day he sent me a text message that "we have to talk." now everyone and their brother (and sister for that matter) knows "we have to talk" is relationship speak for "this is over" so I was slightly freaked out. All he told me was he was glad I was trying to be patient with him. I think all men need to know some basic rules.
1) do not say "we need to talk" unless you're ending it because that's what women think is going to happen anyway
2) do not EVER under any circumstances give a woman a piece of jewelry in a box that looks like it could be THE RING when it's not THE RING.
3) The man should have to kill the bug. It's their job.
Okay, I digress... back to the update. Trooper's recovering nicely from his back surgery but going stark raving stir crazy since he can't lift anything heavier than a coffee cup or drive or work or sit longer than 20 minutes, among other things.
This is a man who works on his house to relax. Who chops wood to relax. Who restores antique tractors to relax. Who cuts his grass to relax. And he's told to sit around and do nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Yeah, he's a little bit... antsy, shall we say?
And as for he and me (bad grammar but I wanted the rhyme), he's coming to Northern Civilization for the weekend of Sept. 11-13!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm so happy dancing all over the dang place, I'll have you know. Can't wait to see him. The thought of seeing him makes my toes curl and I get a stupid smile on my face and fluttering in my tummy and I'm just giggling to myself as I type these words... oh dear!
So far so good, so cross your fingers. We all know I'm an expert at fucking these things up... but this time I want to do it right so... big deep breaths, relax, be cool...
Playin' for keeps,
Maggie
1) do not say "we need to talk" unless you're ending it because that's what women think is going to happen anyway
2) do not EVER under any circumstances give a woman a piece of jewelry in a box that looks like it could be THE RING when it's not THE RING.
3) The man should have to kill the bug. It's their job.
Okay, I digress... back to the update. Trooper's recovering nicely from his back surgery but going stark raving stir crazy since he can't lift anything heavier than a coffee cup or drive or work or sit longer than 20 minutes, among other things.
This is a man who works on his house to relax. Who chops wood to relax. Who restores antique tractors to relax. Who cuts his grass to relax. And he's told to sit around and do nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Yeah, he's a little bit... antsy, shall we say?
And as for he and me (bad grammar but I wanted the rhyme), he's coming to Northern Civilization for the weekend of Sept. 11-13!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm so happy dancing all over the dang place, I'll have you know. Can't wait to see him. The thought of seeing him makes my toes curl and I get a stupid smile on my face and fluttering in my tummy and I'm just giggling to myself as I type these words... oh dear!
So far so good, so cross your fingers. We all know I'm an expert at fucking these things up... but this time I want to do it right so... big deep breaths, relax, be cool...
Playin' for keeps,
Maggie
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Drama with the BMV- part I
I bought my car in 2006 from a private individual and I knew it had been wrecked and fixed. I'm still making payments on the car to this woman, who is known to be a bitch. But I needed a car, she and her hubby had one and I could afford the payments.
When I bought the car from them, we put my name and theirs on the title, which she held since I was paying for it- makes sense to me. I also knew it was wrecked and fixed, therefore it has a "salvage title" according to the BMV.
The bitchy woman was a pain in the ass when I was trying to plate my car when I lived in the Wild West. Finally that that state just issued me an emergency title that was good for one year and if she wouldn't send the title to the county the next year, the car would have to sit. (She didn't want to mail it to the Wild West because I guess she thought they would give it to me rather than mail it back.)
Now I'm here in Civilization and need to plate my car. So I went to the BMV who said I had to send a form to the Bitchy woman and have her send the title to them. I told them what happened last time and they thought maybe it was worth the try since it didn't have to leave the state. I thought it was worth a shot. But as the BMV lady dug a little deeper in the computer she found a copy of the title and thought I might not have to have the real thing. She starts clicking away and is positive and enthusiastic about me being titled and plated today.
Until the screen turns red and blanks out and then gives a huge "warning" message, red alert, Code Blue- we were at a halt and there was no plating to be done. Because somewhere along the way, the proper papers were never given to the BMV that support the salvage title. And the system red flagged it and now... well, let's say the choices aren't pretty at this point. I can
1) call the Bitchy woman and get copies of all the receipts that show the repair work was done. And a picture of the car after it was wrecked before it was fixed. And a letter from the mechanic who fixed it, stating it's road safe. And then I need to have a police officer sign a BMV form stating that the VIN number is accurate.
Now, option 1...yeah- so all the repair work was done about 4 years ago!!! Who in the world would have copies of the repair receipts- and I would have to call the Bitchy woman to see if she has the receipts. And the mechanic who did the work is DEAD now. So, option 1 has lots of problems.
2) I can NOT drive my car and let it sit and not ever be plated because according to the paperwork, my car is a piece of junk and can't be driven, so there it would have to sit. Forever.
Now, option 2... I need my car. Hello?!? And it's not a piece of junk. The only thing wrong is some discolored paint on a door and the power lock on the driver side doesn't work. I've driven that car across the country and back. I've been all over the Midwest and my home state. I've put over 50,000 miles on the car myself and it's all GOOD! My car is NOT junk!
I have to go back to the BMV tomorrow morning. Apparently they have an option 3.
I'm tired,
Maggie
When I bought the car from them, we put my name and theirs on the title, which she held since I was paying for it- makes sense to me. I also knew it was wrecked and fixed, therefore it has a "salvage title" according to the BMV.
The bitchy woman was a pain in the ass when I was trying to plate my car when I lived in the Wild West. Finally that that state just issued me an emergency title that was good for one year and if she wouldn't send the title to the county the next year, the car would have to sit. (She didn't want to mail it to the Wild West because I guess she thought they would give it to me rather than mail it back.)
Now I'm here in Civilization and need to plate my car. So I went to the BMV who said I had to send a form to the Bitchy woman and have her send the title to them. I told them what happened last time and they thought maybe it was worth the try since it didn't have to leave the state. I thought it was worth a shot. But as the BMV lady dug a little deeper in the computer she found a copy of the title and thought I might not have to have the real thing. She starts clicking away and is positive and enthusiastic about me being titled and plated today.
Until the screen turns red and blanks out and then gives a huge "warning" message, red alert, Code Blue- we were at a halt and there was no plating to be done. Because somewhere along the way, the proper papers were never given to the BMV that support the salvage title. And the system red flagged it and now... well, let's say the choices aren't pretty at this point. I can
1) call the Bitchy woman and get copies of all the receipts that show the repair work was done. And a picture of the car after it was wrecked before it was fixed. And a letter from the mechanic who fixed it, stating it's road safe. And then I need to have a police officer sign a BMV form stating that the VIN number is accurate.
Now, option 1...yeah- so all the repair work was done about 4 years ago!!! Who in the world would have copies of the repair receipts- and I would have to call the Bitchy woman to see if she has the receipts. And the mechanic who did the work is DEAD now. So, option 1 has lots of problems.
2) I can NOT drive my car and let it sit and not ever be plated because according to the paperwork, my car is a piece of junk and can't be driven, so there it would have to sit. Forever.
Now, option 2... I need my car. Hello?!? And it's not a piece of junk. The only thing wrong is some discolored paint on a door and the power lock on the driver side doesn't work. I've driven that car across the country and back. I've been all over the Midwest and my home state. I've put over 50,000 miles on the car myself and it's all GOOD! My car is NOT junk!
I have to go back to the BMV tomorrow morning. Apparently they have an option 3.
I'm tired,
Maggie
Friday, August 14, 2009
So... I had a date
I had a date on Wednesday night. With the guy I wrote about who was my crush. With a guy who happened to be... none other than... Trooper.
I know- you've all collectively fainted and fell over with shock that I, Maggie O'Sullivan, had a date. With a guy. And... I don't have anything bad to say about it... I know, I can't believe it either.
For those of you who need the back story, in summary, we met in the Wild West- he came out there to hunt and we met. We hung out. We went to a party. We drank. We ... well. :ahem: But timing was bad and nothing but a friendship came of it. Which is a good thing considering I was bitchy to him. And it never hurts to have friends.
We've stayed friends for three years and each time he came to the Wild West he had drinks or dinner and nothing else- just platonic friends.
But of late, we've had more contact with more texts and phone calls so we decided to have a date. We live about 5 hours apart so we met sort of in the middle and hung out.
Great conversation, great laughs, lots of fun... it was good.
And I have no idea what happens next, if anything. I think there was chemistry. I think it was good.
I am not going to over analyze this. I don't have the energy to over analyze it. And while this post about the date might seem calm, lackluster, or ever dull compared to other posts I've written about various Sam encounters, well... I guess I'm just tired of getting my hopes up so think of this as me just relaying information. Like a Twitter post: I drove, I had a date, I found a pimple on my nose, I'm reading a book, I'm breathing in and out... ya get my drift?
Still having a crush,
Maggie
I know- you've all collectively fainted and fell over with shock that I, Maggie O'Sullivan, had a date. With a guy. And... I don't have anything bad to say about it... I know, I can't believe it either.
For those of you who need the back story, in summary, we met in the Wild West- he came out there to hunt and we met. We hung out. We went to a party. We drank. We ... well. :ahem: But timing was bad and nothing but a friendship came of it. Which is a good thing considering I was bitchy to him. And it never hurts to have friends.
We've stayed friends for three years and each time he came to the Wild West he had drinks or dinner and nothing else- just platonic friends.
But of late, we've had more contact with more texts and phone calls so we decided to have a date. We live about 5 hours apart so we met sort of in the middle and hung out.
Great conversation, great laughs, lots of fun... it was good.
And I have no idea what happens next, if anything. I think there was chemistry. I think it was good.
I am not going to over analyze this. I don't have the energy to over analyze it. And while this post about the date might seem calm, lackluster, or ever dull compared to other posts I've written about various Sam encounters, well... I guess I'm just tired of getting my hopes up so think of this as me just relaying information. Like a Twitter post: I drove, I had a date, I found a pimple on my nose, I'm reading a book, I'm breathing in and out... ya get my drift?
Still having a crush,
Maggie
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Can I have a crush at my age?
So........... now I haven't gone online to match.com yet. Because there's someone I have a crush on. I've sort of had a crush on him for awhile but I kept it to myself... I kept it to myself because I was really mean to him once upon a time. He's a nice man- a real doll and such a sexy cutie-patootie.
He's an old friend of mine. We met three years ago under circumstances that have gone to become infamous in 3 states (I am soooooo NOT kidding), and we managed to live it down- so far. Then we sort of kicked around maybe kinda seeing what would happen if we maybe sort of dated, even though we lived about a zillion states (or 2) apart. Then I was idiot because I was suffering from AlaskaSam issues (we had only been split for 3 weeks then I met this guy- which he never knew, I don't think) so I found every single excuse under the sun and listed my issues with him, some of which were extremely stupid, which made me sound like a stuck-up, persnickety, uppity bitch, and told him to jump in a lake- so to speak.
But you know what? He and I stayed friends. All this time- three years later! Because he is such a forgiving person. We've texted, called and emailed all this time. And I've been thinking of him lots over the last several months and I learned he was going to have surgery so I used it as an excuse to call him. I felt like I need one, after the royal bitch I was. And though I knew he forgave me that long ago, I still felt... guilty. So I called him. And... we had a lovely conversation Thursday night. For three hours. More than lovely, really. It was serious, fun, flirty, silly, sexy, and NICE! I made him laugh and smile, which made me feel good. And he made me feel happy- and damn it, there are so very, very few people who can do that for me these days. (Okay, and he called me "darlin' " in that sweet, sexy voice that makes me tingle- all over. He has one of the sexiest voices in history. And "darlin" is one dang sexy word out of his mouth...) And then we sent fun text messages all day yesterday, where the laughing continued.
Now, I wonder what he'll think with my big decision? Probably'll scare the shit right outta him... But who could blame him? Maybe he'll crush back... Girl can hope, right?
He's a nice guy... and I think it's high time that nice guys don't finish last.
I'm just sayin',
Maggie
OH- and I know some of you are dying to know who this is... since I didn't just stick a "SAM" on him... well, he has a real name I've used here before...! *wink*
He's an old friend of mine. We met three years ago under circumstances that have gone to become infamous in 3 states (I am soooooo NOT kidding), and we managed to live it down- so far. Then we sort of kicked around maybe kinda seeing what would happen if we maybe sort of dated, even though we lived about a zillion states (or 2) apart. Then I was idiot because I was suffering from AlaskaSam issues (we had only been split for 3 weeks then I met this guy- which he never knew, I don't think) so I found every single excuse under the sun and listed my issues with him, some of which were extremely stupid, which made me sound like a stuck-up, persnickety, uppity bitch, and told him to jump in a lake- so to speak.
But you know what? He and I stayed friends. All this time- three years later! Because he is such a forgiving person. We've texted, called and emailed all this time. And I've been thinking of him lots over the last several months and I learned he was going to have surgery so I used it as an excuse to call him. I felt like I need one, after the royal bitch I was. And though I knew he forgave me that long ago, I still felt... guilty. So I called him. And... we had a lovely conversation Thursday night. For three hours. More than lovely, really. It was serious, fun, flirty, silly, sexy, and NICE! I made him laugh and smile, which made me feel good. And he made me feel happy- and damn it, there are so very, very few people who can do that for me these days. (Okay, and he called me "darlin' " in that sweet, sexy voice that makes me tingle- all over. He has one of the sexiest voices in history. And "darlin" is one dang sexy word out of his mouth...) And then we sent fun text messages all day yesterday, where the laughing continued.
Now, I wonder what he'll think with my big decision? Probably'll scare the shit right outta him... But who could blame him? Maybe he'll crush back... Girl can hope, right?
He's a nice guy... and I think it's high time that nice guys don't finish last.
I'm just sayin',
Maggie
OH- and I know some of you are dying to know who this is... since I didn't just stick a "SAM" on him... well, he has a real name I've used here before...! *wink*
Thursday, August 6, 2009
It started as a fantasy...
Once in awhile when it's a slow day in the ice cream parlor, I make up stories in my head, of course, for the customers who come in. There's the guy who walks a poodle and stops on Mondays for a small cone for himself and a dish of vanilla ice cream for his dog. The couple who come in at 9:50 pm on Sunday nights and order huge sundaes with tons of stuff on them and they are both about 5 foot tall and are about that wide. There's the old couple who comes in and the woman wears a wig and the man tells her what to order. It goes on and on- I have a made up story or a 'fantasy' world for all of these people.
So there's a woman who comes in about 5 times a week. She is a tall- I mean tall- all legs with a great and is blond. She wears skimpy dresses with lots of cleavage, has great shoes (usually of the super high heeled fuck me variety) and always has perfect make up. She comes in with her little girl. She buys a bunch of candy and she gets ice cream in a waffle cone with a spoon and she gets her daughter a kids dish of something. They sit in the dining room and the little girl plays with the basket of toys we have and the woman, whom I'm guessing is the mother of the child, sings her songs. In Russian. Okay, when she orders she has a thick accent that is eastern European. It might NOT be Russian but...
I don't know anything about these 2 people but I've decided she was a struggling woman, an orphan with her father being part of old world USSR and just vanished one day and a mother who died of syphilis, who had a baby with the love of her life who was married and when she turned up pregnant he left her. Before the baby, she was happy being his mistress, wearing beautiful clothes he bought her, and took her on exotic trips. Now, unmarried and pregnant, she was ashamed and broke. She was poor and dreamed of coming to America to be an actress. She couldn't even afford to feed her daughter and she didn't want to turn to prostitution. In a final act of desperation she talked to a man who came from the old country she called "Uncle" to help her. He got her papers and a plane ticket. He arranged for a husband, and safe passage to the US. She came to the US and found out that she was married to an old man, who died and left her as a young Russian American widow, stranded here in the Midwest, missing her homeland, with no family and wishing she was in Hollywood.
Okay so that's all going through my head and I made it all up. I didn't know anything about her. I swear.
So, I waited on her over the weekend and giggled a bit as she left. The owner asked me what was so funny and I said something like, "I think she's a mail order bride from Russia."
The owner said, "Yeah, she's the one" and walks away. I stood there with my mouth hanging open. Wha?????????????????
So I immediately followed the owner to the back room and pumped her for information. Apparently, I wasn't too far off the mark. Truth: She was a mail order bride and she arrived in the States with the child. She married a guy who is rumored to be gay. This way she gets to be a citizen and he gets credibility since he's in a prominent position where he would receive much harassment for being gay. (I live in a small town; right or wrong, trust me on this, it would happen). Oh, and he was Amish and left the community. I don't know if he left before or after the mail order bride showed up. Or because of the gay thing. And she is from Russia.
I wonder if I write a little fantasy for myself if it would come true?
Maggie
So there's a woman who comes in about 5 times a week. She is a tall- I mean tall- all legs with a great and is blond. She wears skimpy dresses with lots of cleavage, has great shoes (usually of the super high heeled fuck me variety) and always has perfect make up. She comes in with her little girl. She buys a bunch of candy and she gets ice cream in a waffle cone with a spoon and she gets her daughter a kids dish of something. They sit in the dining room and the little girl plays with the basket of toys we have and the woman, whom I'm guessing is the mother of the child, sings her songs. In Russian. Okay, when she orders she has a thick accent that is eastern European. It might NOT be Russian but...
I don't know anything about these 2 people but I've decided she was a struggling woman, an orphan with her father being part of old world USSR and just vanished one day and a mother who died of syphilis, who had a baby with the love of her life who was married and when she turned up pregnant he left her. Before the baby, she was happy being his mistress, wearing beautiful clothes he bought her, and took her on exotic trips. Now, unmarried and pregnant, she was ashamed and broke. She was poor and dreamed of coming to America to be an actress. She couldn't even afford to feed her daughter and she didn't want to turn to prostitution. In a final act of desperation she talked to a man who came from the old country she called "Uncle" to help her. He got her papers and a plane ticket. He arranged for a husband, and safe passage to the US. She came to the US and found out that she was married to an old man, who died and left her as a young Russian American widow, stranded here in the Midwest, missing her homeland, with no family and wishing she was in Hollywood.
Okay so that's all going through my head and I made it all up. I didn't know anything about her. I swear.
So, I waited on her over the weekend and giggled a bit as she left. The owner asked me what was so funny and I said something like, "I think she's a mail order bride from Russia."
The owner said, "Yeah, she's the one" and walks away. I stood there with my mouth hanging open. Wha?????????????????
So I immediately followed the owner to the back room and pumped her for information. Apparently, I wasn't too far off the mark. Truth: She was a mail order bride and she arrived in the States with the child. She married a guy who is rumored to be gay. This way she gets to be a citizen and he gets credibility since he's in a prominent position where he would receive much harassment for being gay. (I live in a small town; right or wrong, trust me on this, it would happen). Oh, and he was Amish and left the community. I don't know if he left before or after the mail order bride showed up. Or because of the gay thing. And she is from Russia.
I wonder if I write a little fantasy for myself if it would come true?
Maggie
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
What doesn't kill us makes us sore
I'm supposed to go to my first (and maybe last) spinning class tomorrow morning at 6am. I sill cannot get over the fact I agreed to exercise with Insurance Barbie let alone that I agreed to to do it at 6 am. yes, I whined about this before but I'm still feeling rather incredulous over my dumb self. I know I've been dragging my feet on this and I blogged a few weeks ago that I was going to do it- but I still haven't. One reason is because Insurance Barbie didn't go 2 weeks in a row and I wasn't going alone. Another is I was gone. Another time she was gone. Now I've run out of excuses!!!!! And I'm worried! I'm worried I'll be the fattest person there with all the Barbies. Or that's I'll have a heart attack. Or that I'll sweat so much my hands will slide off the handlebars and I'll smack face first on the floor.
And here's the thing- I am so outta shape that today I'm sore because I've worked three straight shifts at the ice cream parlor the last three days- all 6-7 hours each, standing the entire time- nope, there's no time to sit or take a break- and today I am SO SORE. My ankles, knees and lower back are all killing me from the 18-21 hours of standing on a linoleum floor, bending, scooping, etc... And we don't even have those black mats to stand on that are supposed to help the body.
I'm thinking if I'm this sore after working, I 'll probably die after a spinning class. How tragic to die at a Y, during an exercise class, in a small town. Oh Goddess-- that's so redundant!
If I live to tell the tale, I'll report back on my first time spinning. And if I don't, you can read my last will and testament here.
Peace out,
Mags
And here's the thing- I am so outta shape that today I'm sore because I've worked three straight shifts at the ice cream parlor the last three days- all 6-7 hours each, standing the entire time- nope, there's no time to sit or take a break- and today I am SO SORE. My ankles, knees and lower back are all killing me from the 18-21 hours of standing on a linoleum floor, bending, scooping, etc... And we don't even have those black mats to stand on that are supposed to help the body.
I'm thinking if I'm this sore after working, I 'll probably die after a spinning class. How tragic to die at a Y, during an exercise class, in a small town. Oh Goddess-- that's so redundant!
If I live to tell the tale, I'll report back on my first time spinning. And if I don't, you can read my last will and testament here.
Peace out,
Mags
Friday, July 3, 2009
I'm so dizzy my head is spinning...
I think I'm going to take a spinning class. I'm not sure, but if I say it here then maybe I'll feel committed or at least guilty enough to do it- or at least guilty enough to go one time so I have blog fodder to report back for a post for two.
Until a few weeks ago I wasn't even sure what a spinning class was. I heard people talk about it but it was something I ever gave much until a week ago when it was all the talk on some movie I was watching. Then I was wondering "what the hell is a spinning class, anyway?" I mean, I knew it was exercise so I knew it wasn't people sitting around making fabric or yarn. And while my mental image made me chuckle of a gym full of grown adults clad in work out gear turning in circles with their arms out "airplane" style shouting "vroooooooooooooooooooom!!!!!!", I had a feeling that wasn't spinning either- I wouldn't see how that could be considered exercise, other than making one so dizzy they would puke. And I didn't think Hasbro had started making adult sized "Sit and Spin" toys, though there could be an idea right there for a type of exercise- build arm muscles and get dizzy and throw up, thus strengthening the stomach muscles! (Considered that copyrighted to me, thank you very much!) So I finally Googled it and found out a spinning class is a workout class where everyone rides a type of stationary bike. The wheels whirl around, so hence the term "spinning."
Ironically, so it must be fate or karma or my karma trying to run over my dogma, a few days after I learned what spinning classes actually were, a girl at the insurance office- I think of her as Insurance Barbie- asked me if I wanted to go with her to a spinning class. She said it was only $30 for 8 classes. She was nervous about asking me, because I think she thought I thought she was asking because I thought she thought I was fat. (<-----Did ANYONE follow that?) but she really was trying to get a few people to go with her so she didn't have to go alone. I also think it's because she has few female friends who live near her since she just moved to town and she's trying to make friends- and as an adult, we all know how hard that can be. So I was sort of stuck. If I said no, I was afraid I would hurt her feelings and she would feel rejected. I thought it was nice that she would ask me to do something. I also thought it sounds like a fun way to lose weight. But on the other hand, I don't want to be the FAT girl in a class with all the other Exercise Barbies... and it meets on a Wednesday morning at 6 am. In the morning. 6 IN THE MORNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG! But I do want to lose some weight and it does let me work at my own pace and it's pretty cheap... and there are other fat girls there- she's the only Barbie! (Don't even ask me how I found this out other than bluntly asking her if there were other fat chicks and maybe calling the place anonymously and asking if other fat people were taking the class or if it was just a room full of Exercise Barbies. Just don't ask about all those hypothetical ways I might have out if there were fat girls there) On the other hand it is at the new YMCA which I thought about banning. On the other hand I would love to lose about 50 pounds or at least help combat the ice cream... So many hands and options... and I just don't know what I want to do.
So I said I would think about it and let her know on Tuesday. Any thoughts that might be helpful?
Fat and sassy but could be skinny and sassy,
Maggie
Until a few weeks ago I wasn't even sure what a spinning class was. I heard people talk about it but it was something I ever gave much until a week ago when it was all the talk on some movie I was watching. Then I was wondering "what the hell is a spinning class, anyway?" I mean, I knew it was exercise so I knew it wasn't people sitting around making fabric or yarn. And while my mental image made me chuckle of a gym full of grown adults clad in work out gear turning in circles with their arms out "airplane" style shouting "vroooooooooooooooooooom!!!!!!", I had a feeling that wasn't spinning either- I wouldn't see how that could be considered exercise, other than making one so dizzy they would puke. And I didn't think Hasbro had started making adult sized "Sit and Spin" toys, though there could be an idea right there for a type of exercise- build arm muscles and get dizzy and throw up, thus strengthening the stomach muscles! (Considered that copyrighted to me, thank you very much!) So I finally Googled it and found out a spinning class is a workout class where everyone rides a type of stationary bike. The wheels whirl around, so hence the term "spinning."
Ironically, so it must be fate or karma or my karma trying to run over my dogma, a few days after I learned what spinning classes actually were, a girl at the insurance office- I think of her as Insurance Barbie- asked me if I wanted to go with her to a spinning class. She said it was only $30 for 8 classes. She was nervous about asking me, because I think she thought I thought she was asking because I thought she thought I was fat. (<-----Did ANYONE follow that?) but she really was trying to get a few people to go with her so she didn't have to go alone. I also think it's because she has few female friends who live near her since she just moved to town and she's trying to make friends- and as an adult, we all know how hard that can be. So I was sort of stuck. If I said no, I was afraid I would hurt her feelings and she would feel rejected. I thought it was nice that she would ask me to do something. I also thought it sounds like a fun way to lose weight. But on the other hand, I don't want to be the FAT girl in a class with all the other Exercise Barbies... and it meets on a Wednesday morning at 6 am. In the morning. 6 IN THE MORNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG! But I do want to lose some weight and it does let me work at my own pace and it's pretty cheap... and there are other fat girls there- she's the only Barbie! (Don't even ask me how I found this out other than bluntly asking her if there were other fat chicks and maybe calling the place anonymously and asking if other fat people were taking the class or if it was just a room full of Exercise Barbies. Just don't ask about all those hypothetical ways I might have out if there were fat girls there) On the other hand it is at the new YMCA which I thought about banning. On the other hand I would love to lose about 50 pounds or at least help combat the ice cream... So many hands and options... and I just don't know what I want to do.
So I said I would think about it and let her know on Tuesday. Any thoughts that might be helpful?
Fat and sassy but could be skinny and sassy,
Maggie
Thursday, June 4, 2009
YMCA
Recently our town has just built and opened a brand new YMCA facility, a multimillion dollar project with top of the line facilities. The building has the best of the best of everything from weight equipment to personal child care monitoring to a lush indoor pool, just to name a few. The programs are varied with choices from the youngest person in a "mommy and me" class to senior citizen water aerobics. There is something for everyone. Well, it seems there is something there for everyone who has money.
And I want to preface this post that this is not sour apples because I can't afford the membership fees. This runs a little deeper, and as a former social worker, I have issue with what is going on, as I hope you can tell from the rest of my post.
Again, this is a day to learn something here at "shoes/purses" rather than me just sitting here looking pretty- I'm going to educate and get on my high horse at the same time! I live in the second poorest county in my state that has the third highest unemployment rate in our state, and this information can be found at our state government's website. What I want to know is that if this county is so poor and we have so many people out of work, why is a family membership to the YMCA $708 a year (which is lower if you can pay in cash upfront for the whole year) plus the one time fee of $75, which breaks down to $59 a month? In a community where people are struggling to put food on the table, are using public transportation 60% more than last year because of the increased cost of gas, the food panties have seen an 80 % increase- why do we have a YMCA that would think of charging astronomical fees? (Our local newspaper recently ran an article with the stats about out city's need). On a personal note, my sister-in-;law works for a mental health facility and she says that the case managers there are seeing a doubling in client case load just in the last year.
I went to our local Y's web site and I've poured over the slick mailings I get and yes, they do have scholarships, but they are "limited." The mission of the YMCA says:
Please notice the "for all" in this that mission statement. FOR ALL should mean all, not just "for all those who can afford it." If a person visits the national YMCA web site and reads through the history, readers will find that since this program started in London in 1844 to now, the Y had grown and changed and evolved to meet the every growing changes with societal norms, offering programs to people of all race, gender, creed, and religion. They helped with healthy body and healthy mind. They provided educational programs when needed. Through it all, the Y has continually catered its programs for those in need.
I want to know how these programs are going to reach those who need it? I'm sick of people saying that with this new building "we want it to stay new so prices need to reflect the sort of people who will respect that". I have heard this repeatedly. And I think it's abhorrent. Others say that the T isn't a baby sitting service and that people will just dump their kids off. Oh, and I like that I heard someone say 'we need to keep the riffraff out." I'm sick to my stomach and appalled when I hear things like this. And to be honest, I have no idea is these people who say these things are those folks who are YMCA members or board members or employees or just townies shooting off their obnoxious mouths.
I live in a county whose population is about 35,000 according to the last US census. Of this population, 7,170 are children under age 17. 13.9% of children in my county live in poverty, the highest rate in the last five years. And 27.2% of children in my county receive public assistance- government public assistance. (data taken from the Kids Count Data book, 2008) With numbers like these, HOW can this brand new YMCA, who is supposed to provide FOR ALL charge these prices??????
My brother has banned the Y on his personal principles. My sister-in-law got herself and my niece a membership. And me, well as for me...I'm too poor to join.... I guess I'm the riffraff they want to keep out.
I wouldn't want to belong to a club that would have me as a member,
Maggie
And I want to preface this post that this is not sour apples because I can't afford the membership fees. This runs a little deeper, and as a former social worker, I have issue with what is going on, as I hope you can tell from the rest of my post.
Again, this is a day to learn something here at "shoes/purses" rather than me just sitting here looking pretty- I'm going to educate and get on my high horse at the same time! I live in the second poorest county in my state that has the third highest unemployment rate in our state, and this information can be found at our state government's website. What I want to know is that if this county is so poor and we have so many people out of work, why is a family membership to the YMCA $708 a year (which is lower if you can pay in cash upfront for the whole year) plus the one time fee of $75, which breaks down to $59 a month? In a community where people are struggling to put food on the table, are using public transportation 60% more than last year because of the increased cost of gas, the food panties have seen an 80 % increase- why do we have a YMCA that would think of charging astronomical fees? (Our local newspaper recently ran an article with the stats about out city's need). On a personal note, my sister-in-;law works for a mental health facility and she says that the case managers there are seeing a doubling in client case load just in the last year.
I went to our local Y's web site and I've poured over the slick mailings I get and yes, they do have scholarships, but they are "limited." The mission of the YMCA says:
To put Christian principles into practice through programs that build healthy spirit, mind and body for all.
I want to know how these programs are going to reach those who need it? I'm sick of people saying that with this new building "we want it to stay new so prices need to reflect the sort of people who will respect that". I have heard this repeatedly. And I think it's abhorrent. Others say that the T isn't a baby sitting service and that people will just dump their kids off. Oh, and I like that I heard someone say 'we need to keep the riffraff out." I'm sick to my stomach and appalled when I hear things like this. And to be honest, I have no idea is these people who say these things are those folks who are YMCA members or board members or employees or just townies shooting off their obnoxious mouths.
I live in a county whose population is about 35,000 according to the last US census. Of this population, 7,170 are children under age 17. 13.9% of children in my county live in poverty, the highest rate in the last five years. And 27.2% of children in my county receive public assistance- government public assistance. (data taken from the Kids Count Data book, 2008) With numbers like these, HOW can this brand new YMCA, who is supposed to provide FOR ALL charge these prices??????
My brother has banned the Y on his personal principles. My sister-in-law got herself and my niece a membership. And me, well as for me...I'm too poor to join.... I guess I'm the riffraff they want to keep out.
I wouldn't want to belong to a club that would have me as a member,
Maggie
Thursday, May 7, 2009
My own version of 'characters welcome'
I've decided to sell my furniture. I'm a nomad and nomads don't own furniture, right? And I'm poor and broke and need the money, right?
So I put an ad in the paper to advertise my sofa, Lazy Boy, a small bookcase, an antique cabinet, bedroom suite with queen mattress and box springs, a pie cabinet, and a 3 piece dining room set. The ad ran this morning in our small town local paper today for the first time.
By tonight, everything is sold except for the bedroom furniture... but at what cost to me?
The first woman who called and showed up (when I gave her my address) told me all about how she needed to find a couch and chair for her soon to be ex husband- she referred to him as "Daddy"- who couldn't keep it in his pants. (I do not know why she told me this, or why she was trying to set up housekeeping for her soon to be ex. She is a hillbilly and is getting di-vorced in her 50s so.... who knows?) And she babysits for her granddaughter who rips things up and who's mom "isn't right in the head." She called her other daughter to come over and look at the rest of the stuff
She bought the pie cabinet.
The daughter arrives with her 2 kids, one who is Autistic and doesn't walk or talk yet and is almost 5 years old while her other boy is 3 and far surpasses his brother, other than his fetish for shoes. She was going to buy the couch and chair for her ex husband, because you see, they dated for 2 years, married for 14 years and separated for 2 years, because he was having mental issues. She loves him but with their son he was too hard to handle when he has an "episode". He doesn't have a dining table or chairs or a couch but she wasn't sure if she should buy it until she talked to him.
She bought a bookcase.
I'm leaving the house when a guy saunters up and asks me if I had furniture. Turns out he's the ex- husband of the first lady. He's found God (wonder if that was before or after he couldn't keep it in his pants?) and wanted to know if I too have found God and I told him we just don't want to go there. He wanted to know if I was from "up north here" or if I was a Hillbilly, too. I told him I was born and raised here in Civilization but my mom's folks were Hillbillies. So I guess that made me okay. He wanted to know if I could bake biscuits and, as a matter of fact I can, using my great grandmother's recipe to boot, and then he proceeded to tell me how to make perfect sausage gravy.
He bought the Lazy Boy recliner, the sofa and dining set.
Two women showed up to look at the bedroom furniture. Madge's son was in the Navy for 27 years and worked at the post office. Madge's husband said he would divorce her if she came home with any more stuff and she tried to buy the lawnmower my dad uses each week! She knew my mom, come to find out, and feels soooooo bad about her "passing". She also cleans my Grandmother Shrew's church. Her friend Penny was along and Penny hates thunderstorms. She wanted to buy pots and pans since she didn't think her kids would buy them for her for Mother's Day.
She bought the antique cabinet and a random lamp I had sitting around.
Now, I have no IDEA why people tell me this shit. I smile and nod politely and answer their questions about my stuff which leads to these stories... I had no idea that selling furniture would be so... involved. I feel like I should put these people on my Christmas card list.
There was a couple who called that wanted the couch but it was already sold, but I was curious what their stories would be!
And my ad is running 2 more days.... wonder who else will crawl out of the woodwork?
Hey, at least I got a gravy recipe out of it!
Maggie
So I put an ad in the paper to advertise my sofa, Lazy Boy, a small bookcase, an antique cabinet, bedroom suite with queen mattress and box springs, a pie cabinet, and a 3 piece dining room set. The ad ran this morning in our small town local paper today for the first time.
By tonight, everything is sold except for the bedroom furniture... but at what cost to me?
The first woman who called and showed up (when I gave her my address) told me all about how she needed to find a couch and chair for her soon to be ex husband- she referred to him as "Daddy"- who couldn't keep it in his pants. (I do not know why she told me this, or why she was trying to set up housekeeping for her soon to be ex. She is a hillbilly and is getting di-vorced in her 50s so.... who knows?) And she babysits for her granddaughter who rips things up and who's mom "isn't right in the head." She called her other daughter to come over and look at the rest of the stuff
She bought the pie cabinet.
The daughter arrives with her 2 kids, one who is Autistic and doesn't walk or talk yet and is almost 5 years old while her other boy is 3 and far surpasses his brother, other than his fetish for shoes. She was going to buy the couch and chair for her ex husband, because you see, they dated for 2 years, married for 14 years and separated for 2 years, because he was having mental issues. She loves him but with their son he was too hard to handle when he has an "episode". He doesn't have a dining table or chairs or a couch but she wasn't sure if she should buy it until she talked to him.
She bought a bookcase.
I'm leaving the house when a guy saunters up and asks me if I had furniture. Turns out he's the ex- husband of the first lady. He's found God (wonder if that was before or after he couldn't keep it in his pants?) and wanted to know if I too have found God and I told him we just don't want to go there. He wanted to know if I was from "up north here" or if I was a Hillbilly, too. I told him I was born and raised here in Civilization but my mom's folks were Hillbillies. So I guess that made me okay. He wanted to know if I could bake biscuits and, as a matter of fact I can, using my great grandmother's recipe to boot, and then he proceeded to tell me how to make perfect sausage gravy.
He bought the Lazy Boy recliner, the sofa and dining set.
Two women showed up to look at the bedroom furniture. Madge's son was in the Navy for 27 years and worked at the post office. Madge's husband said he would divorce her if she came home with any more stuff and she tried to buy the lawnmower my dad uses each week! She knew my mom, come to find out, and feels soooooo bad about her "passing". She also cleans my Grandmother Shrew's church. Her friend Penny was along and Penny hates thunderstorms. She wanted to buy pots and pans since she didn't think her kids would buy them for her for Mother's Day.
She bought the antique cabinet and a random lamp I had sitting around.
Now, I have no IDEA why people tell me this shit. I smile and nod politely and answer their questions about my stuff which leads to these stories... I had no idea that selling furniture would be so... involved. I feel like I should put these people on my Christmas card list.
There was a couple who called that wanted the couch but it was already sold, but I was curious what their stories would be!
And my ad is running 2 more days.... wonder who else will crawl out of the woodwork?
Hey, at least I got a gravy recipe out of it!
Maggie
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Whazup with Sam and me
We're okay. The last few weeks since I got home from Dublin, things have been tense between us; we were off kilter and outta whack. We couldn't seem to find our groove; we hardly talked.
So being an emotional female I panicked. If I was thinking with my heart I figured he was being distant and giving me the brush off. Something wasn't as good for him as it was me and he didn't want to hurt my feelings so he didn't call, was short tempered, angry and was smarmy.
Now, if I was thinking with my brain I would realize that since I left he had the flu which irritated his asthma. He was also under tremendous work strain because he was told they were going to probably cut his job before the beginning of April. So he went to work daily with the flu and it turned into pneumonia. Then his CEO in San Fran flew in and while he didn't lose his job or have to take a pay cut, he did get demoted and a whole bunch of other folk were laid off. So now instead of being a VP of International Sales he's a trainer. And then he had to learn all the software had had to train people on and then create 10 hour workshops which last three days on material he's never looked at, let alone used. And then he had to go to the Netherlands for his first training. Then he had to come back to Dublin and do another training over more material he had never seen before- same time frame. ALL of this happened between when I left and now.
So I would push about when I would get to see him, he would be grumpy and nasty because he didn't know when. I would push and he would pull. When nothing was said about the next visit and he was in a bad mood he would take his work shit and his lack of good health shit out on me and that caused a mild unpleasantness for all parties.
Last night when he called he said he was thinking about telling me he didn't need more stress and as much as he loved me and hated his job he thought we should end this now because it was too stressful. Then he said he thought that would be stupid because we had the potential for something amazing and he spilled us guts about everything- his baggage of his ex wife, comments I made that would cause him stress, his family, religion,. work... you name it and he covered it all. he also didn't place blame fully on me- he outlined his own "issues" and explained he knew what his hot buttons were and that those things weren't me. Then he wanted me to talk and we did.
The bottom line: Communication scored BIG. We basically plowed through this together and talked. It was amazing. And enlightening. For example, it drove me nuts that he never said he missed me, so I just thought he didn't miss me. I told him this. Well, it seems when he was married and traveled and told his ex wife he missed her (back when she was a wife) she would reiterrate with screaming at him to come home, find another job without travel, etc... so he just didn't want to say it. I told him I would never do that, and that if he told me he missed me I at least knew he was thinking of me, or that he MISSED me. Point solved.
We talked and it was good. We sort of made a deal. First we are not going to hole up emotions like that which cause us to be anxious and caustic. I am not going to say one word about visiting him again over the next 2 weeks because with his newly re-arranged job he doesn't know when it will work but he's trying to figure it out- he WANTS me there now, but it doesn't work. He is going to be more free with his emotions and realize I won't bite his head off like his ex did.
And then to prove to me that he did miss me, he thought of me often throughout the day, that he didn't really want to end this at all, that he loves me more than he thought possible, that he was really sorry for hurting me... he sang to me and played the guitar. He learned a song I like and that he thought would be apropos: "Baby you can sleep while I drive."
I love this guy.
Maggie
So being an emotional female I panicked. If I was thinking with my heart I figured he was being distant and giving me the brush off. Something wasn't as good for him as it was me and he didn't want to hurt my feelings so he didn't call, was short tempered, angry and was smarmy.
Now, if I was thinking with my brain I would realize that since I left he had the flu which irritated his asthma. He was also under tremendous work strain because he was told they were going to probably cut his job before the beginning of April. So he went to work daily with the flu and it turned into pneumonia. Then his CEO in San Fran flew in and while he didn't lose his job or have to take a pay cut, he did get demoted and a whole bunch of other folk were laid off. So now instead of being a VP of International Sales he's a trainer. And then he had to learn all the software had had to train people on and then create 10 hour workshops which last three days on material he's never looked at, let alone used. And then he had to go to the Netherlands for his first training. Then he had to come back to Dublin and do another training over more material he had never seen before- same time frame. ALL of this happened between when I left and now.
So I would push about when I would get to see him, he would be grumpy and nasty because he didn't know when. I would push and he would pull. When nothing was said about the next visit and he was in a bad mood he would take his work shit and his lack of good health shit out on me and that caused a mild unpleasantness for all parties.
Last night when he called he said he was thinking about telling me he didn't need more stress and as much as he loved me and hated his job he thought we should end this now because it was too stressful. Then he said he thought that would be stupid because we had the potential for something amazing and he spilled us guts about everything- his baggage of his ex wife, comments I made that would cause him stress, his family, religion,. work... you name it and he covered it all. he also didn't place blame fully on me- he outlined his own "issues" and explained he knew what his hot buttons were and that those things weren't me. Then he wanted me to talk and we did.
The bottom line: Communication scored BIG. We basically plowed through this together and talked. It was amazing. And enlightening. For example, it drove me nuts that he never said he missed me, so I just thought he didn't miss me. I told him this. Well, it seems when he was married and traveled and told his ex wife he missed her (back when she was a wife) she would reiterrate with screaming at him to come home, find another job without travel, etc... so he just didn't want to say it. I told him I would never do that, and that if he told me he missed me I at least knew he was thinking of me, or that he MISSED me. Point solved.
We talked and it was good. We sort of made a deal. First we are not going to hole up emotions like that which cause us to be anxious and caustic. I am not going to say one word about visiting him again over the next 2 weeks because with his newly re-arranged job he doesn't know when it will work but he's trying to figure it out- he WANTS me there now, but it doesn't work. He is going to be more free with his emotions and realize I won't bite his head off like his ex did.
And then to prove to me that he did miss me, he thought of me often throughout the day, that he didn't really want to end this at all, that he loves me more than he thought possible, that he was really sorry for hurting me... he sang to me and played the guitar. He learned a song I like and that he thought would be apropos: "Baby you can sleep while I drive."
I love this guy.
Maggie
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Is Sam still employed? And the West Wing date follow up
Yes, Sam is still employed. I will spare you all the down and dirty details and all the names he called his boss- which are most certainly NOT fit to print. But be that as it all may, he still has a job and in the middle of this global depression, it's a blessing. The Boss was in his office from San Fran to Dublin on Thursday and was saccharin sweet- I can at least tell you that. His job had been restructured- more training, more sales, more travel and less management duties- Sam is not a happy camper about the last one... When I talked to him after our West Wing date, his final words about the job were: "If I call you around noon your time, then you can rest assured I punched his lights out and ordered you plane ticket- you'll be leaving Sunday." The phone call, the punch nor the ticket occurred. So, he's employed for now.
The down side of this restructuring mess is that I am now no longer going to meet him in San Fran in April. Before this, he was to be in CA for 14 days and I was going to be there for a big chunk of those. The trip is now down to 4 days, with him flying out on a red eye on Thursday so he can conduct a training in Dublin on Friday... I don't think I need to even talk about how unhappy both of us are over this whole thing. he's pissed at the company. He's also pissed at himself. I'm sad over it all, vow to not use any guilt on the man because he does it well enough on his own (He has a Jewish mother- he lived the World Series of Guilt for years!), and am mad at the company. I would say the upside is that if his training schedule works out, I'll go see him at the beginning of May and be there for his birthday! Now that would be nice...
And as for our West Wing date, it was fun. We giggled and talked through much of it and he can quote the whole thing word for word, which struck me as hilarious, for some reason. When he worked for Clinton, he told me he was really like Toby but wanted to be more like Josh with a splash of Sam<-- the character played by Rob Lowe, not MY AIISam. But he was really Toby. (Okay he really wanted to be Leo- who wouldn't want to be Leo?!?) And as I watched that episode I can totally see it. Completely- he is sooooo Toby. Ah, the things TV help you learn about those you love. BUT anyway, we talked and watched and decided to do it again. We even have another "date" episode picked out. (And we were totally impressed that we only had a 2 second lag from when we separately clicked play) And for those of you who are not familiar with the shoe, shame on you, and sorry you just wasted a bit of your life reading this paragraph that probably made no sense...
Ah, the world of Sam. At least updating you on him and how his job affects me keeps me from really talking about myself........
I'm a CJ girl myself (or is that Dr Bartlet?),
Maggie
The down side of this restructuring mess is that I am now no longer going to meet him in San Fran in April. Before this, he was to be in CA for 14 days and I was going to be there for a big chunk of those. The trip is now down to 4 days, with him flying out on a red eye on Thursday so he can conduct a training in Dublin on Friday... I don't think I need to even talk about how unhappy both of us are over this whole thing. he's pissed at the company. He's also pissed at himself. I'm sad over it all, vow to not use any guilt on the man because he does it well enough on his own (He has a Jewish mother- he lived the World Series of Guilt for years!), and am mad at the company. I would say the upside is that if his training schedule works out, I'll go see him at the beginning of May and be there for his birthday! Now that would be nice...
And as for our West Wing date, it was fun. We giggled and talked through much of it and he can quote the whole thing word for word, which struck me as hilarious, for some reason. When he worked for Clinton, he told me he was really like Toby but wanted to be more like Josh with a splash of Sam<-- the character played by Rob Lowe, not MY AIISam. But he was really Toby. (Okay he really wanted to be Leo- who wouldn't want to be Leo?!?) And as I watched that episode I can totally see it. Completely- he is sooooo Toby. Ah, the things TV help you learn about those you love. BUT anyway, we talked and watched and decided to do it again. We even have another "date" episode picked out. (And we were totally impressed that we only had a 2 second lag from when we separately clicked play) And for those of you who are not familiar with the shoe, shame on you, and sorry you just wasted a bit of your life reading this paragraph that probably made no sense...
Ah, the world of Sam. At least updating you on him and how his job affects me keeps me from really talking about myself........
I'm a CJ girl myself (or is that Dr Bartlet?),
Maggie
Friday, March 13, 2009
Going out for supper...
Ever since Sam and I met in Pittsburgh, he's promised to take me out for Italian food for supper. While we were in Pitt it never happened. And since I've been in Dublin we've had Chinese, Indian, seafood, pizza, and some American- still no Italian food and I was teasing him about the omission.
Sam came home and told me he would take me out for Italian food this weekend. And I could have it as many times as I wanted because he was taking me out for supper in Milan!!!!!!!!!!!!
OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!! He and I are going to Italy!!!!!!!!!!!!! The country!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! For the entire weekend!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We leave this afternoon and get home around midnight on Monday. Then I'm going to spend St. Patrick's Day in Dublin and fly back to the states on Wednesday.
Oh. My. Goddess. Italy. For supper. Milan. Can we say Dolce and Gabbana? Versace?
I mean, he comes home from work and says we're having Italian food for dinner- in Milan, Italy.
Okay, that being said... I really really don't think I'll be posting here or on Across the Pond for several days. I might, but I have no idea.... Italy...
Arrivederci,
Maggie
Sam came home and told me he would take me out for Italian food this weekend. And I could have it as many times as I wanted because he was taking me out for supper in Milan!!!!!!!!!!!!
OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!! He and I are going to Italy!!!!!!!!!!!!! The country!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! For the entire weekend!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We leave this afternoon and get home around midnight on Monday. Then I'm going to spend St. Patrick's Day in Dublin and fly back to the states on Wednesday.
Oh. My. Goddess. Italy. For supper. Milan. Can we say Dolce and Gabbana? Versace?
I mean, he comes home from work and says we're having Italian food for dinner- in Milan, Italy.
Okay, that being said... I really really don't think I'll be posting here or on Across the Pond for several days. I might, but I have no idea.... Italy...
Arrivederci,
Maggie
Thursday, March 12, 2009
What I've been doing in Ireland
So I have huge blisters on the bottom of my feet from all the walking and not being used to it- other than that, no complaints! I was thinking of being a bum and not doing a darn thing today since I have a few more days and could run around with Sam, but I hate to lose any time. So I'm going to veg for half of the day and give my poor blistered feet and toes a little rest. I still want to see the famous jail, get my own pictures of St. Patrick's, and I feel like I should see the National Gallery since it's free... but otherwise I have done all the things a regular tourist would do- and then some!
Yesterday I toured Dublin Castle and a funny thing happened there. The tour guide just decided that I must be a good listener because by the end of the tour he was talking directly to me, ignoring everyone else, like it was a conversation rather than a guided tour. Afterward, he and I chatted and then he asked me if I wanted to get a pint, have a bit of supper and see some sights- whoot, whoot- go me! I got asked on a date in a foreign country. Of course I said no...
I also toured Christ Church yesterday, and it was beautiful. I actually toured it twice... go figure. My digital camera batteries died in the middle. I was so bummed but I finished the tour anyway, of course. At the end I asked the docent if I could re-enter if I went and bought batteries, after explaining my plight. She said of course, so I went across the way, got batteries and came back to tour it again. Thank goodness it was self guided so I could just get some of the shots I wanted!
And since Sam has been working a bit each day, I've been running around on my own so I don't have any pictures of the two of us doing anything. For whatever reason, when we go out at night, I never think to bring my camera to dinner or to the pub. But here's a picture of him after he got home from work.
I will try and do a better job of getting some of us together.
And by the way, another reason it stinks that I don't remember my camera at night? I've eaten my way through the city (and am not gaining weight but losing so the blisters don't seem as bad!) and I've had curry and real Chinese food. I also had some fancy Greek food and visited lots of pubs to partake in lots of pints- I like Bulmers, a nice cider. YUMMY! And all the restaurants garnish fancy or have lovely presentation. All of these would've been great photo ops! Where was my brain???? (Of course I'm still posting pictures as often as I can at Across the Pond) I did get one food shot:
Your woman of the world,
Maggie
Yesterday I toured Dublin Castle and a funny thing happened there. The tour guide just decided that I must be a good listener because by the end of the tour he was talking directly to me, ignoring everyone else, like it was a conversation rather than a guided tour. Afterward, he and I chatted and then he asked me if I wanted to get a pint, have a bit of supper and see some sights- whoot, whoot- go me! I got asked on a date in a foreign country. Of course I said no...
I also toured Christ Church yesterday, and it was beautiful. I actually toured it twice... go figure. My digital camera batteries died in the middle. I was so bummed but I finished the tour anyway, of course. At the end I asked the docent if I could re-enter if I went and bought batteries, after explaining my plight. She said of course, so I went across the way, got batteries and came back to tour it again. Thank goodness it was self guided so I could just get some of the shots I wanted!
And since Sam has been working a bit each day, I've been running around on my own so I don't have any pictures of the two of us doing anything. For whatever reason, when we go out at night, I never think to bring my camera to dinner or to the pub. But here's a picture of him after he got home from work.
I will try and do a better job of getting some of us together.
And by the way, another reason it stinks that I don't remember my camera at night? I've eaten my way through the city (and am not gaining weight but losing so the blisters don't seem as bad!) and I've had curry and real Chinese food. I also had some fancy Greek food and visited lots of pubs to partake in lots of pints- I like Bulmers, a nice cider. YUMMY! And all the restaurants garnish fancy or have lovely presentation. All of these would've been great photo ops! Where was my brain???? (Of course I'm still posting pictures as often as I can at Across the Pond) I did get one food shot:
Your woman of the world,
Maggie
Monday, February 23, 2009
Another Sam story...I know, I'm making you all sick
Sam and I talk on the phone every night, as I think I've mentioned. And we've talked on the phone every night since that's all we have- that and Instant Messaging plus emails. All telecommunication mediums. I don't think I've ever loved technology so much.
We talk every night. We revel in the chaos that is our lives and how to blend us together over the thousands of miles and the Pond that separates.
S0, yes we talk every night- usually a few hours, until the wee hours of the morning in Ireland, when he should be in bed sleeping, but instead he's telling me anything and everything just mere hours before he needs to get up and go to the office. We whisper secrets into the dark, share our fears and thoughts about everything, we share our past lives, our desires, wants, needs, and play 'what if' with our future, our stories, and many many laughs. We just click, in a strange way that is so very good. And he's quoted some movie (neither of us can remember which one- When Harry Met Sally?!) because he said it sums up how he feels very well. He said he likes that he wants my voice to be the last one he hears at night before he sleeps... and he can't wait until it's the first one he hears in the morning... Oh my. Oh my oh my oh my.
Sam went to Amsterdam this weekend for business. Well, Friday and Saturday were in Amsterdam for pleasure- a mini vacation- and then Sunday until Wednesday are business in a town about 30 minutes outside of the city. And while in Amsterdam, he is enjoying... a particular offering of the city which is legal. He also told me that he MUST keep conversations on Sunday through Tuesday nights brief so he can get some sleep and be at the top of his game for business with potential new clients. Now, to recap the weekend talks: our conversation on Friday was brief; he booked my ticket and we chatted about his trip and my upcoming visit and the wonders of the State Department and my First Passport Ever. Saturday afternoon he called and it was... a brief conversation, which made me laugh and he doesn't remember.
Then there was Sunday night's phone call. Or shall I say calls? He called and I wasn't near my phone and he left a delightful message. (Some of you who've known me for a loooong time will get the ironic humour here.) He said "I'm in The Middle of Fucking Nowhere, Holland and have no Internet and no cell service. I'll try back in a half hour. If you want to call me, here's my hotel phone number and room number..." He called a second time and again, I missed the call- Mac and I were playing music in the car way too loudly. That message said, "Sorry I missed you again. If you get this message in the next 10 minutes, give me a call." This one came in about... 1:45 AM his time. I missed the 10 minute window so I figured I was just out a phone call from him, for the first time in over a month, damn it!
Ah, but I was wrong... he called me at 2 am his time. Because he missed talking to me before bed time. Because the weekend didn't allow for our regular phone call routine. Because he has it bad for me. Because he doesn't sleep as well if he doesn't chat with me before bed. Because of me. I couldn't stop smiling because it was 2 am in the morning, he was seeing clients at 7 am and he missed me, wanted to hear the sound of my voice. Even though he told me last week we couldn't have a late night chat, he still called me. He likes me, he really likes me! This boy has it BAD!!!!
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, don't tell, but guess what? So do I!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Somebody likes me lots,
Maggie
We talk every night. We revel in the chaos that is our lives and how to blend us together over the thousands of miles and the Pond that separates.
S0, yes we talk every night- usually a few hours, until the wee hours of the morning in Ireland, when he should be in bed sleeping, but instead he's telling me anything and everything just mere hours before he needs to get up and go to the office. We whisper secrets into the dark, share our fears and thoughts about everything, we share our past lives, our desires, wants, needs, and play 'what if' with our future, our stories, and many many laughs. We just click, in a strange way that is so very good. And he's quoted some movie (neither of us can remember which one- When Harry Met Sally?!) because he said it sums up how he feels very well. He said he likes that he wants my voice to be the last one he hears at night before he sleeps... and he can't wait until it's the first one he hears in the morning... Oh my. Oh my oh my oh my.
Sam went to Amsterdam this weekend for business. Well, Friday and Saturday were in Amsterdam for pleasure- a mini vacation- and then Sunday until Wednesday are business in a town about 30 minutes outside of the city. And while in Amsterdam, he is enjoying... a particular offering of the city which is legal. He also told me that he MUST keep conversations on Sunday through Tuesday nights brief so he can get some sleep and be at the top of his game for business with potential new clients. Now, to recap the weekend talks: our conversation on Friday was brief; he booked my ticket and we chatted about his trip and my upcoming visit and the wonders of the State Department and my First Passport Ever. Saturday afternoon he called and it was... a brief conversation, which made me laugh and he doesn't remember.
Then there was Sunday night's phone call. Or shall I say calls? He called and I wasn't near my phone and he left a delightful message. (Some of you who've known me for a loooong time will get the ironic humour here.) He said "I'm in The Middle of Fucking Nowhere, Holland and have no Internet and no cell service. I'll try back in a half hour. If you want to call me, here's my hotel phone number and room number..." He called a second time and again, I missed the call- Mac and I were playing music in the car way too loudly. That message said, "Sorry I missed you again. If you get this message in the next 10 minutes, give me a call." This one came in about... 1:45 AM his time. I missed the 10 minute window so I figured I was just out a phone call from him, for the first time in over a month, damn it!
Ah, but I was wrong... he called me at 2 am his time. Because he missed talking to me before bed time. Because the weekend didn't allow for our regular phone call routine. Because he has it bad for me. Because he doesn't sleep as well if he doesn't chat with me before bed. Because of me. I couldn't stop smiling because it was 2 am in the morning, he was seeing clients at 7 am and he missed me, wanted to hear the sound of my voice. Even though he told me last week we couldn't have a late night chat, he still called me. He likes me, he really likes me! This boy has it BAD!!!!
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, don't tell, but guess what? So do I!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Somebody likes me lots,
Maggie
Friday, February 20, 2009
IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE!!!!!!!!
Hey guess what? My passport is here. I feel the love for everyone!! Whoot whoot! I've been happy dancing all day looooooooooooong!
I called and told AmericaninIreland Sam and he had my flight booked within minutes. I leave on March 5 and come back on March 15- maybe. And why is that return date a maybe? BeCAUSE Sam wants to take be on a special surprise side trip! It that comes to fruition I'd be back to Civilization on March 18. The side trip possibilities are anywhere in Italy, Vienna, London, Amsterdam or Paris. I.CAN'T. HARDLY. WAIT. No one is going to be able to stand me for 2 weeks.
OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Soon to be world traveler,
Maggie
I called and told AmericaninIreland Sam and he had my flight booked within minutes. I leave on March 5 and come back on March 15- maybe. And why is that return date a maybe? BeCAUSE Sam wants to take be on a special surprise side trip! It that comes to fruition I'd be back to Civilization on March 18. The side trip possibilities are anywhere in Italy, Vienna, London, Amsterdam or Paris. I.CAN'T. HARDLY. WAIT. No one is going to be able to stand me for 2 weeks.
OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Soon to be world traveler,
Maggie
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