Way Cool Hat

And, yes, I have already worn it out in public. I plopped it on my head at the check-out and walked the length of the mall with it on. I felt chic. And despite being tired, I believe I had a little spring in my gait which I credit entirely to wearing the hat. Me and Aretha, we're sisters of the big bow hat. Oh, yeah.

Wrapping up February

Things I worked on this month that I'll blog about later:

* Setting up my office/writing room

* Ended a three month long stint on an internet dating service

* Two, yes that's right, TWO major shopping trips with the 16yo! Which will also entail moving furniture around, including down the basement steps. I sincerely hope both of us will survive juggling furniture about, which sounds actually easy compared to shopping with him. He tends to get a little bored and cranky once the shopping parts that directly involve him are over with.

* Found some great bargains while shopping! Eyelet trimmed 250 thread count sheets for me for just over $20! A comforter and pillow shams for the guest bedroom for $17! And a way cool hat for $11!

* I've given up shaving my legs for Lent.

Internet Irony

A couple of months ago, the subject up for discussion was Facebook. I casually remarked that I didn't see me participating in a social networking site. Because I'm, well, antisocial. A friend's college-age daughter responded that everyone knew that. In a perfect deadpan, no less. Her face then burst into a glowing smile. Everyone laughed. A smart-ass is born!!

Facebooking

I have just joined Facebook. My elder son friended me. Why is it that nouns that are verbified make me feel suspicious? Could it be because I'm not entirely sure that I should be engaging in the verbified activity? Or that I'm not qualified to? Or that it's actually an activity at all? At any rate, I feel ever so special. Also, he is a redhead now. I'm certain the younger son shall also friend me. Goodness, but time flies when one is dinking about on the computer. I must get back to Facebook and find friends. Do people who do this ever sleep again?

Dig Deep

Ah. A revelation before ten in the morning. It is apparent to me now that I have not dug deep enough for inspiration and subject matter as poetry writing fodder. The Writer's Almanac for today confirms this. I'm surprised that after raising two boys that I had never gone here before. How stimulating and reassuring that I still have room to grow artistically. The booger joke. A timeless classic.

Expostulation

About five million years ago, when my husband-to-be and I were dating, a curious thing happened early on. On a lazy summer Sunday morning we were basking in the afterglow of an evening out and a night spent together. He made breakfast, probably an omelet. There was tea and toast with honey. I lounged on the couch wearing one of his shirts and watched him putter about the kitchen. I wasn't in love or really even thinking about the dreaded L-word. I wasn't assigning any labels to our relationship because I didn't know what it was yet. I wasn't afffixing either of us with specific roles involving specific behaviors. I simply knew in that moment that I was happy and was inwardly marveling at how quickly I had become so comfortable around this interesting, quirky, intelligent man. I had no expectations except that he would treat me with care and kindness and that he'd have the courtesy to not think of anyone else while he was kissing me. I had no agenda. I was willing to let what we were together evolve at its own pace and arrive where it was going of its own accord. I liked him and knew that I liked being with him. It was enough. After we ate he wandered over to the stereo to put on some music. I was thinking maybe Steely Dan or Clapton, though I didn't voice a request. This was the day of vinyl lp's and he pored over his considerable collection for a while. Aha, there it was. He pulled out an ancient Hank Williams album, dusted it off, and carefully placed the record on the turntable. Positioning the needle on a chosen track, he told me to sit back and listen. The lp was old and scratched and much crackling and hissing emerged from the speakers before any music could be heard. Then ole' Hank exploded into a rollicking number that contained the line, get that marryin' out of your head, I'll be a bachelor til I die! Talk about an ambiance killer. The soft feeling of contentment and comfort evaporated in an instant. He stood across the room, arms folded across his chest, appearing more than a little defiant, awaiting my reaction. The words of the song hung in the air making the room feel suddenly too small for what it contained. I was puzzled. Then I laughed and informed him he was protesting much too much. I left soon after, abandoning him to his Sunday afternoon bachelor devices. Later I was pondering his possible motivation for shattering the mood but I never asked him why. I guessed that there was something about the pace of our relationship that struck a nerve, and he felt the need to assert some control or express an opinion. That Sunday morning was more than twenty years ago yet it remains crystalline in my memory. Was it just one of those men-are-from-Mars-women-are-from-Venus moments or was it a relationship red flag I should have paid more attention to? I'm left with the thought that sometimes, when we allow ourselves to be open and let our guard down, that what happens can be terrifying even if we're enjoying it. I'm willing to be present while the we of you and I unfolds and presents itself. It's a fascinating and engaging process that I embrace rather than fear. I am a process kind of girl.

Careful What You Wish For...

...we are often told, your wish may come true! On Saturday night at Latitude 44, when the magician had finished his little show, he asked if we had any requests. I'm sure he was referring to card tricks or other standard magical fare, but it was Valentine's Day! I had something else in mind. I figured if he could pull a coin out of Nancy's ear, he might just be capable of conjuring up some real magic. So I asked for a man. A single, available, spirited man with a warm heart and a kind and generous soul. He suggested eHarmony. I laughed. Returning to the bar, which was completely deserted except for one lone fellow, I opted to sit right next to him. In this space he shall be referred to as Mr. Shaken, not Stirred. Oh, and yes, he is gorgeous. Didn't even think of asking for that! I need to find that magician and thank him.