Now

"And I need you,And I miss you..."

Whew,only half that distance and thankfully, I don't have to walk. I'll be leaving home for the airport in about 8 hours.

I thank you for your well wishes.

I'll *see* you all next year. I wish for everyone a safe, happy new year celebration. Enjoy. Cheers!

One on One

Do you ooh!
Two hour long conversations on the phone, can't get you out of my mind
Baby are you feeling me feeling you?
Every thing you say and everything you do,Gets me lost in you days at a time,
Tell me are you feeling me feeling you?
"Feeling You, Feeling Me" ~Alicia Keys


As the months turned into weeks, into days and now with only several hours left, the excitement is alive, growing with every minute passed. It sparks and crackles propelling me forward. I check the weather forecast continuously, go over my tasks to complete before take off lists and try to keep from spinning of my axis. Five months ago it felt like this day was eons away. One more night here and then I'll be there.

Yum.

Deuce

"I wanna spend some time with you." In two days, you and I, just the two of us.

Magic Wand Number Three

My mom gave birth to three children.

My son and daughter make up my immediate family of three and on Tuesday we’ll be together again to share a holiday meal. My mom will join us, but my two brothers will not.

While I don’t subscribe to the lucky or even magic number theory, if I did it would probably be three. There has been a number three woven in and out of the fabric my life in a number of incarnations for the past thirty-three years.

Three is better than four yet not as enticing as one. Better yet, none. Soon baby, soon.

Four Play

Oh what a night, late December number 23.

As in previous years this day is full of cleaning and cooking all gearing up for the big day. And this year is no different in that regard however unlike previous years it is the days beyond that are grabbing most of my attention. What focus I can harness is tied to weather, travel and time.

Neta and I have talked at every opportunity. We’ve talked about what we’ll do together, the running theme being just that, together. The big plan is that there is no plan. Besides what we’ll do New Year’s Eve we are being very deliberately loose.

We want to relax. And we will.

I've got sunshine on a cloudy day.
When it's cold outside,I've got the month of May.
Well, I guess you'll sayWhat can make me feel this way?
My girl. (My girl, my girl)Talkin' 'bout my girl. (My girl)
I've got so much honey
The bees envy me.
I've got a sweeter songThan the birds in the trees.
Well, I guess you'll sayWhat can make me feel this way?
My girl. (My girl, my girl)Talkin' 'bout my girl. (My girl)
"My Gir" ~The Temptations

Focus Five

Focus. Finding it this week has been beyond difficult. Friday was the hardest. I lost and found the same piece of paper four times. It took forever to complete the simplest tasks. Adding fuel to the fire is the fact that the company, for the first time ever will be closed Christmas week. Since it is a payroll week I'll have to go in for a few hours Monday to complete payroll processing. I'll also finalize my month-end and (calendar) year-end reports and tie up some other loose ends, for in five days I take off to spend 10 days with my lady love.

Finding focus for work has been beyond difficult this week. Clearly, my focus is elsewhere.

In your arms, I can still feel the way you
want me when you hold me
I can still hear the words you whispered
when you told me
I can stay right here forever in your arms
"Forever and For Always" ~Shania Twain

Sing A Song of Six

In the latter part of 1966 I was six years old. I can't recall many specifics of the beginning of my six year oldness. I do have some some memories. I can remember starting first grade. My mom had a fondness for dressing me in dark or checkered jumpers, white shirts, ankle socks and saddle shoes. I wore saddle shoes or sneakers to school. Though, as a younger student (pre K) T-Strap Mary Janes were the shoe of choice. I think those were my "church" shoes. 

Other memories about first grade include being asked all the time, "why isn't your brother more like you?" There are many differences between me and my brother, so many that folks wondered about our parentage. My very different brother was starting third grade in the latter part of 1966 and had a penchant for getting in trouble. His teacher called me to the office nearly daily to pin a note to my jumper for our parents. The notes never made it home. It was my third grade brother's responsibility to walk my first grade self, saddle shoes (or sneakers) and all, home.

Hello? Heck yeah he took the notes.

Eventually they caught on and stop pinning the notes to my jumper.

The most vivid memories of 1966 revolve around music. The radio and 45s played constantly in our apartment. My mom played number twelve on the list: What Becomes Of The Brokenhearted, Jimmy Ruffin played in a loop so often she wore it out and had to buy another record. I know I've got to find, some kind of peace of mind. ohhhh ohhhh As I recall, she wore out many discs.

Neta and I have re-counted many of memories from our respective childhoods over the past year. In six days we'll get to do that (and more) up close and personal.

Lyric

Like many children around me I bibbed and bopped to the Jackson 5. We knew the tunes and could recite the lyrics better than our own names and addresses. They were for a time, the shiznit, yo! Unlike the kids around me I liked the Jermaine led tunes best.The lyrics to my favorite from the day, I Found That Girl stayed inside me for a long, long time. And then they were gone for a time. They have returned as they are, in part anyway, my story.

Now, I admit to flubbing lyrics. There are songs that I never got/get right. For years I thought Marvin Gaye sang…Alcatraz when all along he was singing… get out of class in Too Busy Thinkin’ but, I Found That Girl… no, I had it right, I do believe.

I remembered it as: Mama, life for me now is a new sensation Just like you said it would be with the right situation
Now love has a meaning and I have a goal
This feeling inside me now make destiny a hundred years old

and so on.

In light of what I found out about Too Busy Thinkin', I thought I'd look up the lyrics to satisfy a growing curiosity. As you are aware there are many lyric sites. Not all can be trusted-- imagine that.

Several give the first line as: Mama, blind for me now is a new sensation And the fourth as: This feeling inside me now may chance to be 100 years old. Many others give the first line as: Mama, pray for me now is a new sensation. And the fourth: This feeling inside me now makes yester me 100 years old.

Were I to have that conversation with mom, I would say… Mama, life for me now is a new sensation Just like you said it would be with the right situation Now love has a meaning and I have a goal This feeling inside me now makes destiny 100 years old
Mama, oh, mama, I found that girl.

The girl is one year older today and in seven days there will be cake and more. Happy Birthday, baby. Seven. More. Days.

Eight

Why is 6 afraid of 7?
Because 7 8 9. Guffaw, I know. The day is drawing nearer and nearer and I am, well…the anticipation has me hopping around like a cat on crack. Speaking of which, Neta got a new cat. We named her Lily. She’s a striped tabby like Pete. Neta treated Lily and BoBo to wet food recently. They went absolutely gaga over the stuff, just like Pete. Lily, it seems was a veteran of the wet meal, so though excited, hers was a bit tempered. BoBo however was raised on a diet of dry and was absolutely, positively bowled over into a state of goofy giddiness after his first taste.

Friskies ocean whitefish with tuna, or as we call it now, crack for cats, seems to be the early favorite of all three kitties. I wonder what other likes our three kitties share.

In EIGHT days I get to meet the lovely Lily. And get reunited with her mommy.

Reunited and it feels so good
Reunited 'cause we understood
There's one perfect fit
And sugar, this one is it
We both are so excited
'Cause we're reunited.

Hey, Hey.

Final Touches

Counting down to T-time. We are down to single digit days and I can all but taste the pickles, omelets, and oh, her coffee in the mornings. Lest you think its all about the food, let me assure you, it isn't.

We both have struggled these five months and I fear this final week will be the hardest yet. With preparations for the holiday, work responsibilities and social obligations we probably won't talk as much this week.

I'm pretty sure I won't be sleeping much either.

Raise Your Hand If You're Done

This is the day I’ve been dreading. Not dreading so much as…well, yes, dreading.

I’m going to a mall. I will be in a very large mall, in December a mere 10 days from THE DAY.

I know the why Deborah is punching your teeth to trip off your lips.

Don’t get all slobbery, I’ll tell you why, in a word…daughter.

At some point it became clear that I could not be trusted to buy clothes or gadgets for my daughter on my own. The male was not a problem, but my D oh no—she made it perfectly clear that I didn’t have a clue about those things. So long story short it is now tradition for me to treat her to a shopping spree, well, on my budget—more like splotch, for Christmas. So a-splotching we shall go. She gets to do what she loves most without me griping. That’s the real gift because Deborah Does Not Do Malls. For a few hours on a Saturday in December she shops while I yay or nay (mostly yay--I know my role) choices, pay, hold bags and demand suggest lunch.

It is an event. Really. Alert the media.

Normally my own shopping is done by now. I do mail order. I do it early. I get the stuff in, wrapped and if gifts need to travel elsewhere, they are gone. This was not a normal year. I’ve been a bit off stride, out of sync, off schedule. While the needing to be shipped stuff is done, the other is not yet finished. There are a few more items to be crossed from the list.

I must shop on our visit to the mall.

This could get ugly. Truly.

***click on photo for ~hand soap~ vendor. Note, however, most are on backorder -sigh-

Listen to Yourself

The time has come, dear friend, for you to retrieve your life. Get it down off the shelf, if not out of that closet (yeah, I know…..I'm still lingering amongst the sweaters)….

I have a friend, a rather new friend, who is struggling. I won’t name or link to her because 1. I haven’t asked her and 2. Don’t want to put her on blast…which is to say I wouldn’t want to yell point out that the young lady in the third row is wearing a baby phat jacket with rocawear jeans. In my daughter’s world that fashion faux pas is bad enough, to blast someone so much worse, unless....

Anyhoo… the friend is struggling with a number of issues not the least of which is the coming out process. She’s married, with children and has come to the realization that she’s a lesbian. She had begun her journey, had a plan in place and then tragedy struck, setting back the process of progress.

Stagnate. Yet, oops there it is: lesbian, hear me roar and the desire to get on to the next phase is strong. Alive. I know this feeling well. I offer whatever encouragement I can. Yeah, that’s me, the new kid on the block offering….something, anything.

I’d given my mom Neta’s numbers to have in preparation of my first visit in March. While winterizing her apartment the other day, I noticed she still has the paper taped to one of her walls. My mom has not asked me one single, solitary question about Neta. We have not discussed the Facts of Neta, i.e. my life.

Yet,

after our Thanksgiving meal, D was rattling on about one thing or another, at some point I heard (vaguely, as I was dozing) her say "…you know like, I might dream about helping mom because Neta had broken up with her….“ I think they were talking about Jerry Springer or Divorce Court, point is, mom let that part of the conversation pass like a silent fart. Even in my stupor I couldn’t help but wonder if it was my daughter’s intention to put me on blast. Oh well, It doesn't matter because it is what it is. Ask me. I'll tell.

To my friend: the road may be littered with debris right now but the cleaning crew is on the way. Things will look clearer soon.

Cat Nap Change

The event of the season is fast approaching. Catsablanca! Treats and prizes and no foolin’ all black and black/white cats are 50% off. One Day Only! If you’re in the ‘hood, into cats, stop in, say hello and by all means adopt a kitty!!

Now, my own adopted from the ACL kitty, Pete has steadfastly refused to listen to several reasoned and carefully modulated arguments surrounding his late night activities. His 4 am routine became a 3 am routine which quickly became a 2 am routine. The consistent two a.m. routine being the line in the sand. As it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore his insistent pleas for play, as some experts suggest and he wouldn't listen to reason, it has become necessary to give Pete his own night time space and to adopt a bed time routine.

Prior to bedtime we enjoy our quality playtime, the hunter is rewarded and then bid a fond good night. Pete has his food, water, can tend to his personal hygiene needs and if he chooses, can play all he wants without disturbing anyone, namely me. My sleep is still sometimes interrupted ( I am 47) but not by the cat scratching fever of my cute tabby.

Pete and I will talk more about our mutually harmonious living, sleeping when I return from Tennessee. --I don't leave for 16 days--- s-i-x-t-e-e-n d-a-y-s

Here's looking at you kitty!

Like Crazy

We talk every day, multiple times. Still, I miss her. Saying good-night and then lying down to think about how much I want to hold her is the hardest thing I do--everyday.

A couple of Sundays ago, we were talking. Sharing a cup of coffee and some jibber-jabber about the Titans and the Bears when suddenly I felt a whoosh and my head began to swim. I remember that feeling when I fell off the monkey bars at eight. The supreme feeling of lonliness even while talking with her on the phone knowing that I couldn't reach out and touch, couldn't see, smell or taste--for weeks, the lonliness overwhelmed. The sensation took my breath away. I had to go. I had to walk.

That feeling didn't last long. But it was followed by anxiety. As time draws nearer a fear that something might happen to prevent me from leaving on the 27th settled into my head. I couldn't shake it--until today.

Launching myself full tilt into year-end reporting needs, preparing budgets, organizing to make sure bases are covered during my vacation, anticipation & prep for two Christmas celebrations (D's employer & my own), finding a solution to Pete the cat's sleep disruption pattern and just shaking myself--has cleared my head.

I still miss her but I know that in TWENTY days, I'll be on a plane. I'll see her smiling face, sparkling eyes and breathe her in, touch her skin. Twenty. Just.

Even though its been so long, my love for you keeps going strong
I remember the things that we used to do, a kiss in the rain
Til' the sun shined through, I'll never try to deny it, I'm so in love with you
I miss you like crazy, I miss you like crazy, ever since I went away
Every hour of every day, I miss you like crazy, I miss you like crazy

Too Much Ado Re: Poop

Upside to scooping poop in winter and /or winter conditions: poop much easier to see.
Downside to walking small pooper looking for inspiration: takes her twice as long to get the show on the road. Brrrrrrrr

What about the kitty? Well he poops indoors in a box lined with litter. I scoop this poop along with clumps of the other emissions from the feline. I’ve tried two litter brands, Fresh Step and Tidy Cats. I like the Tidy Cats better. Pete hasn’t expressed an opinion one way or the other. Or maybe the fact that he does his yoga on my desk when I’m on the computer is an opinion.

A Thought

Happiness is when what you think, what you say and what you do are in harmony.

Or so I've been told.

Your Name, Says it All?

In my profession I encounter names. Lots and lots of names of streets, towns and people are woven into the daily fabric of my life. Most are common, regular run-of-the-mill, like Jones, Main or Smith. Some are not so common, run-of-the-mill or pedestrian. .

Those not so pedestrian names prompt me to wonder as to their origin or whether or not the so named exemplifies the moniker in anyway. The wonderment escalates when interaction with those uniquely named folks ensue.

Take Ms. Tingle, for instance. Does she really? Tingle I mean. Or does she routinely elicit such a response from those in her sphere? Though I didn’t find Mr. Rudebush all that rude he may have been bushy as there was no way to determine that during our brief verbal encounter. I admit certain notions come to mind when I see that a Ms. Schleppy and a Mr. Moron must be contacted about a particular issue. I do take a moment to admonish myself that they’re just names. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if S. Barefoot was indeed sans shoes when we spoke recently.

Seeing Pepper Eggars’ name tends to kick-start a craving for a Southwestern style omelet.

Living in a place called Suck Spring would probably not be pleasant for me, yet I suspect I’d feel a bit pressured to be so always if I lived in a place called Happy.

Our names can define us or at least prompt others to use them as a way to define us. What about it? Do you live your name, bring your name to life in some way?