Turkey Day

Thanksgiving Morning and all is very right in my world. I was able to be home today,,not at work as anticipated. Mallory and her friends were out on the town last night ,,she laughed and played and was able to forget about San Antonio for a bit. She's deep under the covers in her very own bed this morning,,a tumble of glorious hair and feather pillows and down comforter. She'll roll down the stairs following her nose and the Thanksgiving dinner smells shortly. Maggie is sprawled on the couch downstairs. Cell phone in one hand,,stuffed elephant from Preston in the other. She too was out playing last night. A woman/child. They've grown up well.
Tonite we will gather and have our very nontraditional traditional Thanksgiving feast. Elke will be here. Nik will join us. Becca will fly in and out. I predict an appearance by the posse et al at some point. Bring em all on. The more the merrier. Time to go cook, feed cats, wrestle laundry and begin enjoying this day. Hope a Turkey nap finds you all.

Men

Damn Freakin Z and his good advice. Damn him. I trust this man on wine,,he knows his wine that's for sure. I trust him on clothes,,seems to know those too. I even trust him occasionally with my hair. I mean he IS the one that convinced me to just let it be curly and quit fighting it and trying to beat it into submission and that one little piece of advice has saved me hours every day,,but DAMN Z for his advice on men. He's a man,,sort of,,you'd think he would know something about them. Wouldn't you? I mean he does sleep with them and he does share bathroom space with them and he does work with them and hell he was even born one but does he know even one little thing about how a straight mans mind works? NOPE. Not even one teeny little thing. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. A life lesson I suppose. I'm so confused. Robert. He has a psycho wife/exwife. Psycho. Completely totally crassly verbosely absolutely insane psycho wife. He left months and months ago. Moved out. Prior to that he had occupied one end of the house and she the other. He hasn't considered himself married in three years. She's hangin on though. Did I mention she's a complete psych case? Psycho with access to a phone and my number tattooed on her hand apparently. She calls and calls and calls. Leaves messages on my voice mail that would make a sailor blush. Calls me at work. Calls during the middle of the night. I'm walkin away while I still have some sanity and my pride and no prison record. I'll eventually end up killin this woman if I stick around. My girls would do it for me but they have a problem with her truly being crazy. I think it's an act. An attention getting behavior. Matters not. I'm outta this one. Maybe I'll get to sleep through a night without a crazed phone call. Maybe she'll forget my name. Maybe I'll win the lottery and move to Tahiti. Damn Z. Damn him. Not really. He's too cute to be mad at for long,,but jesusmaryandjoseph why did I listen to him?
Weird dreams during my nap today. Weird. Freud would have a field day. Big giant ginormous hugemongous snake in the basement. Gaunt emaciated Mike trying to help me kill the thing. Running from the snake,,hiding from the snake,,contemplating sex during the run,,Mike too sick to do the deed. Like I said. Weird. No more naps during OU football games. They're lethal.
Did I mention Z sucks with the male advice thing? Did I mention I love him anyway? Did I mention Roberts whatever she is is making me crazy? Tahiti is sounding better and better. It's warm. There is sun. There is no list. Ok so I'm making that part up. I'm probably on the fuckable list there too. Sigh.

Feeling Guilty

I miss Mike. I really do. I miss his voice. His laugh. His perspective. His wacky sense of humor and the way he could make me see irrational things rationally. I miss his calming touch. His hair. His eyes. His feet. I miss his freakin feet. I wonder,,does he think about me? Us? Does he have moments of drifting in his own memory palace? Has he gotten over me? Was there anything to even get over? Do we really ever get over someone? Do we? I don't know that I want to. I know I should. I know I will fight it. He's perfect. Others are flawed. Can another fill those shoes? Will I let them? Too soon I guess. Way too soon. Laughter finds me a bit more often now than it did two months ago. A start. I'm harder,,tougher,,more jaded. Forged in the fire. A no nonsense Martha with a hardened heart. Except,,every now and then I catch a glimpse of softness. Just a glimpse. Robert is still hovering. How unfair of me to compare the two,,but I do. Daily. Hourly. Possibly I should enter a convent and just give up on men. Nahhhhhhhhhh. Not for me. Time heals all wounds they say. Don't know who the infernal "they" are,,just hope they're right on this one. I need time. Or Mike. I'd prefer Mike. I'll get time. Sigh.

Deja Vu

Roberts wife called yesterday. Yeah, his wife. He lives in his own lil bachelor type apartment but he still has one of those critters we call "wives". No ring. Just the wife. A crazy one apparently but a wife nonetheless. She's called before. She has even shown up at my house. This time though it hurt. Previous phone calls have pissed me off. This one was like a slap. It made me feel cheap. Like I was sneaking around,,cheating,,doing something wrong and dirty and ,,,slutty. I hate that feeling. I made a vow to myself that I would never feel that way again and then WHAM,,,,the phone rings and I say Hello and she says those magic words,,This is Roberts wife,,and THUD goes my self esteem and my bright chipper nursey type mood. I wanted to shower,,remove my skin,,remove my heart and disinfect it,,bleach it,,bleach the air I was breathing. I HATE THAT FEELING. Sigh. Today I'm cleaning. It's not helping. The seven thousand comments and retorts and snappy comebacks are stuck in my throat. I want a rock to crawl under. A big rock. Dark and slimey,, like me. I had started the conversation with him the other night about my two list belief. That women are either loveable or fuckable and once you get your list placement you don't get to move to the other list. Ever. He had made the comment that he thought when he first met me that I would be someone he could get "lucky" with. That's what prompted my List Theory revelation. I never got to finish it. Will today. I have to know. I'm not going to be another mistress. I'm not staying on the fuckable list. I'm not dealing with another wife. I can't.

Not so "Ken" after all,,,

Ok. So I've been wrong before and will be wrong again I'm sure. I was incredibly wrong on this one. He's no boy scout. He's not a Ken doll either. He's bygod for real, for now. He just needed a little confidence. Apparently he gets his confidence with acceptance and encouragement. He's been amazing. I've been here before with others and seen them walk away without looking back but somehow I think this one might be different. For now. I know,,tentative,,but those construction workers in charge of my walls are costing me a bloody fortune these days and my psyche just can't keep paying them to rebuild what I allow to be destroyed so I'm going slow and keeping it casual. Sort of. As casual as I can with someone that I can't seem to get enough of and want to know every single cell and thought and witness every breath and ,,you get the picture. I'm bordering on addiction to a freakin blonde man. Blonde. I like it.
Tomorrow he's coming to spend the day. We're watching football,,YES,,and working in the yard,,un hunh,,,building a fire pit,,and having some friends over. Our friends. Mutual friends. This is so weird. Isn't life grand?
The flip side to this,,I was working in the garage this week and found the picture I had done in Vegas. The nude. In the same folder was the picture of Mike. Damn he's beautiful. It was a bit like a slap but in a good way. Bittersweet. Tears for what was and will not be. Came in and listened to his CD,,let his voice re-imprint in my memory palace. Peaceful sadness,,sweet sweet beautiful sorrow. I pray he's ok. That life is being kind to him. I'll always love him. Always want him. Always miss him. My Mike.
Work is still numbing. ICU is actually a relief. The floor is about to kill me. The only bright spot is Robert being there. I'll be sinking into the mire and he'll appear and smile and life is better and work is tolerable and the day somehow comes to an end. One more day off and then back at it. Horrors.
Bubble bath calling. Clean soft sheets are waiting. I think sleep will find me tonite.