Weekend Update: with Chickadee

I'm beginning to feel like a rat on a wheel at work, which is not good, because I'm getting restless. Today, after being excluded from a meeting about a project that I'd ultimately be doing the design work for, I've decided to actively start looking for other employment. The prospect scares me beacause right now, I have a coveted and well-respected position at a place that is nearly impossible to land full-time employment at, but I'm so frustrated with the pace at which things move there. It's a lot of talking and not much doing. In my opinion, everyone is so afraid of making waves that no one is willing to take risks. What we really need is full-on honest communication. I know that's an old gripe, but come on! My office is full of creative, intelligent, energetic people. Why can't we harness all that to create something great, instead of something just good? I'm realizing that I need to be at a place that's either willing to take risks, or affords me the responsibility I need to remain stimulated. Oh well, I'll keep you all updated. For now, I just need to concentrate on getting my portfolio and resume together.

In lighter news, I had a nerdy internet radio moment this weekend. While posting my stuff on ebay, I was listening to my favorite internet radio talk show, Radio Tiki. It occured to me that I wrote a letter to them recently inquiring about a song I'd heard on a past show, and that perhaps they would read my letter on-air. They did! I was geeked (pun slightly intended), and called the redhead in to listen along. I'm tempted to send them a picture of the redhead and I, but maybe that's just a bit too much? I don't know, I may be a write-in-and-listen-to-see-if-they'll-read-my-mail addict. I'm currently composing my next letter in my head. ;)

Other than that, not much is new. I had a really great weekend with the redhead. We stayed home and did house things. On Saturday night, we went out to dinner at a place called Scott's Harbor Grill(e?) (Alyson, I thought of you and smoking in the parking lot while waiting for you to finish your shifts). We were both in the mood for fish and sitting in the evening sun, so we nabbed a table on the patio and had a relaxed meal overlooking Grand Traverse Bay. In the summer Traverse City becomes a tourist town of the most touristy variety (sweaters tied around shoulders, women wearing visors AND sunglasses, expensive perfume and imported beer, etc.) and most of the time, we try to go places where we know tourists won't be, but in all honesty, it was nice to be out at a place that really does make you feel lucky to reside in such a beautiful and abundant place. We had a great view, great food and beer, and great conversation. For an hour-and-a-half, I kind of felt like we were tourists, too.

The rest of the weekend left me totally and utterly in more love with the redhead than I thought possible. Over the course of our relationship, we've had some serious ups and downs, but we always emerge from the downs stronger and more victorious as a couple than I could ever wish for. I know, it all sounds so sappy, but it's the goddamn truth! That man makes me crazy! What can I do? He's due home in fifteen minutes, and I'm so excited to see him. I keep waiting to get disinterested, or to realize that we just can't go any further together, but it keeps not happening. This relationship has surprised me and delighted beyond my own comprehension. It's the real thing, ugly and beautiful and everything in between. Giddy girl aside: He's got a beard now, which is, I think, the sexiest thing ever. Okay, I'm done gushing.

So that's that. Work, eats and luhv. On the whole, it's been a good few days. Until my next post...

Lights, Camera....ACTION

I had a strange experience today. I was standing in the lobby of our downtown post office, which is very industrial/art deco, holding a package of divorce papers, a mix CD, and insurance crap I had to send my husband for this leg of the proceedings. So there I was, staring at his Chicago address and my return address (my name hyphenated with his last name), knowing that my official signature was on three copies of papers that would tell some judge in Cook County, Illinois that yes, indeed, my husband and I do not want to be married anymore.

I was about to slip the envelope into the "out of town" box, but I stopped myself. What was I thinking? That maybe it could work out? That if I called him tonight, packed a suitcase and showed up at his doorstep (via a car ride, train ride and cab ride) that everything would be just fine? I had visions of he and I in a tearful hug, tearing up the papers and laughing out of pure joy and emotional hysteria. I guess a part of me just wants that to be something possible. Really, I think, I just want him to be happy and for everything to be easy for him. And I miss him. In that instant, the reality of divorce, my situation here in Traverse City, and the turns my life will inevitably take came rushing at me like a tidal wave, and it stopped me from doing what I had walked to the post office to do. I felt like the sympathetic character in some dramedy. Aw, poor Chickadee, will she ever figure things out? Stay tuned!

Last night, I had a dream about my husband. In real life, he's a tall and skinny man, prone to nervous laughter and willing to do whatever someone else wants to make them happy. But in my dream, he was rugged and robust, clutching a child at his side and handling him with the strong sort of love that good fathers give. He and I spoke warmly to one another (we were in the laundry room of my parents' house and I was surprised to see him). Then the redhead stepped in who, in real life is robust and handles me with the sort of strong love that good boyfriends/husbands give. But of course, in my dream, he was two-thirds his normal size, whining for me to pay attention to him.

I can pinpoint all the things about my dream that made it happen the way it did. I always wished my husband was the kind of man I could see fathering our children. I wanted him to be stronger and more independent. We were in my parents' laundry room because the redhead and I recently took a trip to my parents' house. He kissed me in the laundry room, just like my husband used to, and instead of enjoying the moment like I wanted to, my thoughts drifted to my husband. That happens a lot. When you spend six very intense years of your life with someone, it's just impossible to avoid thoughts of them at any random moment. I know that being in the kind of relationship that warrants a trip to the parents isn't helping me. There are just too many patterns a committed relationship follows. But like I've said before, what am I gonna do? Like stomach aches or bouts of sadness, I've learned to ride these memories out, to take them and recognize them as important and happy things, but to also know that I'm building a new life now. I want those memories to make me a better person, but right now, I'm just trying to get through them all. Things will always remind me of my husband, that I know. But somehow, when I have a memory I haven't yet visited, it's a little harder. A lot harder actually. Have I mentioned that I miss him?

Ugh, this post has turned into the kind of lament I didn't want it to turn into. It's probably best I sign off. I have an open weekend ahead of me and I'm looking forward to a trip to the farmer's market and lunch downtown tomorrow. Until my next post...

L-O-V-E and other new dewelopments

Okay, so it's been a while. I'd be surprised that is anyone reading this is a frequent visitor (I've seen my bravenet stats, people), but I have to give my apology, nonetheless. So I'm sorry. Here I am.

Things have happened since my last post. A lot of things. Some good, some bad, and all too convoluted to write about in detail. It's been a year, for God's sake.

I'm still with the redhead. I love him. He's warm and funny and smart and oh-so-sexy. We've grown leaps and bounds together over the past year, and he's moved into my place. In fact, he just got home from work. Yep, we've settled into something quite like a committed relationship, which I'm both enjoying and (as my freaky-ass dreams have been telling me lately) am scared shitless of. But what do you do with all of it? Do you pretend like it's all good and fine because you're recovering from a divorce or do you push yourself away from something that could be lifelong and beautiful when you've finally recovered from grieving for your ex-husband? Of course, I've been as honest with the redhead as I can be without making him want to break something, but sometimes, I miss my husband so bad it makes my stomach hurt. That I don't tell anyone, except you blog readers, and what kind of sense does that make? Ugh. I can't stop thinking about it, but I've had enough already. I've said it before and I'll say it again—when does all of this get easier?

My husband and I are in the final stages of our divorce, which has gone appallingly worse than I thought it would. At one point, we got pretty nasty with one another, which is something we never did over the course of entire relationship, even when he was moving out of our house and to a different state. It's hard to be apart from someone that you've shared every little thing with—love and hate and everything in between—and we truly care about one another, which has kind of made everything harder in a lot of ways. We want to reach out to each other, but we can't. I can't because I know it gives him this weird sort of hope that things will work out. He can't because he knows it won't work out. Somewhere in the middle of all of that we make assumptions about what the other needs, and we break down as a team. I guess that's our natural cycle, but it's been really really hard. The whole process is like grieving, but he's not dead. I can see him, but I really can't because, at this point, I don't think it's good for either of us. So that's where things are. I have a pending court date in Cook County, Illinois to make all of this final. I will visit him. We'll have a good time. And then I will spend the entire train ride home trying to hide my tears from the other passengers. Ah well. This is my life. Mine and mine alone. Lately though, it's been a bit more achingly beautiful than I'd like. Onto the pure beauty, please.

I ran my course as the design advisor for the college newspaper, which was, at best, a learning experience and at worst, a nightmare. I did make a kindred-spirit sort of friend out of the deal, which has been nice. He's the editorial advisor (I'll call him Press) and as I came to find out, a great friend but (dare I say it?) a shitty coworker. He's the kind of guy that tells you what you want to hear with conviction, then doesn't follow through, which makes for hard times in the newsroom. Especially when you want to yell at him within inches of his face but you have a certain professional and personal decorum to uphold in front of your students. I have signed a contract to stay on for another year and in all honesty, I think I can do it, but I'm not sure if I want to. I've given Press two months into the semester to get his shit together. If that doesn't happen, I'm out, despite all the doe-eyed pleading and showering of compliments he may employ. Our deadlines became brutal as a result of his lax supervising, and I'll be damned if I spend another four consecutive days in the design lab until three in the a.m., only to get up for my REAL and somewhat better-paying job at the mag. He's a charming man, but at this point in our friendship, I can resist falling victim to his empty promises. Quite simply, I know him better than that. We'll see how it goes. That's all I'm sayin'.

My job at the mag has progressed, though slowly, which I'm finally finding out is all I can hope for there. They've hired someone to relieve me of some of my production duties so I can focus more on design, but it doesn't mean much. I'm considering taking all that I've learned and high-tailing it out of there. Unfortunately, though, this area doesn't afford much in that regard. What I really want to do is just open my damned shop. But for now, all my financial resources are all focused on buying a freakin' house, already. It would be nice to apply for a small business loan with a little collateral, and I think the bank would laugh in my face if I pointed to my rusted out '92 Toyota Corolla in the parking lot and said, "There's my collateral. $30,000 please."

Yeah, so that's the skinny. Realtionships, work, money, blah blah blah. Other than that, I've been hangin' with the same old crew, doin' the same old things, rearing the cats into the world-conquering tigers I know they'll be someday. And with that, I'll sign off. I have a cold beer and a hot man waiting for me. It's good to be back. Until my next post...

This time tomorrow night

Less than 24 hours before the redhead's return, and I'm antsy antsy antsy.

I had a particularly crazy day at work, which was good, because it kept me busy and not thinking about him. I feel sort of hurried to see him, but I think it's due, in part, to the fact that I have so much going on after he gets here.

I am volunteering for the first annual Traverse City Film Festival, founded in part by Michael Moore. It's shaping up to be an absolutely amazing event, with the premiere of at least 7 independent films right here in my little town. Honestly, there's not one of the over 30 films on the bill that I wouldn't love to see. But alas, I'm stuck doing clean up at the open space (a grassy park on the shore of the Grand Traverse Bay), where they'll be showing free family films. I'm not complaining, but I was hoping to at least get to usher at one of the amazing historic venues they're opening up for the festival. Ushering (which I was originally slated to do) included seeing the film I would be ushering for. But, in my enthusiasm, I told the volunteer coordinators that I could work late nights, and I got clean-up duty. Oh well, I also bought tickets to two films I'm really excited about. An exciting sidenote: There will be celebrities in this town. Jeremy Piven will be in Traverse City. What the? I love Jeremy Piven! I will not stalk him, but I will hope to run into him at 7-11. Maybe we can chat it up over slurpees? Maybe I'll be wearing my Film Festival crew T-shirt! I'm kidding. But I am excited about the T-shirt.

Anyway, I have a mandatory safety and security meeting at the open space at 9 a.m. on Sunday. I was considering just saying "screw it" and lying around with the redhead all morning, but damnit if I don't want to be a part of the festival! Who knows how long the redhead will be around? If the festival gets off the ground, I'm planning on volunteering every year, and I should just be serious about that commitment from the get-go.

I'm also leaving for Grand Haven Sunday afternoon. I have a rheumatologist appointment in Grand Rapids on Monday morning, and my mom and I are planning on taking the day to lollygag around Saugatuck (a little Lake Michigan coastal town) afterwards. When the redhead left, I thought my neighbors' wedding was this Sunday, but they've since changed the date, and I have to disappoint him by telling him that a) the wedding isn't until next weekend, and b) I'm leaving town for a couple days. Will we ever get to be together again? I'm being dramatic, but after two weeks, come on! I want a little uninterrupted romance, you know what I'm sayin'?

My friends, Amy and Marty, came over this evening and we had a couple beers and went to see "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." It kicked serious ass, and I loved the fact that we all laughed at the same parts. They like the little things, as do I.

I've also been reading "Wild Swans," which is a wonderful book. So I've been keeping myself occupied in these few short hours before I see the redhead. I only hope I don't get all flustered tomorrow. I have a tendency to do that at times like these. And really, I have no plans tomorrow, save for tying up some loose ebay ends and posting a few more items. I'm going to go mad with anticipation, I suspect. In my idle moments, I've resolved to shave my legs and pluck my eyebrows. I will also pick out the sexiest outfit (within reason) that I can put together out of the mishmash that is my wardrobe. If I'm really desperate, I'll paint my toenails.

And on that note, I'll sign off. This post has taken a turn for the worse.

Until my next post...

Missing them

I've decided that I am completely comfortable missing those closest to me. Somewhere in the middle of my being separated, I began to divide my life into chunks, the boundaries of which were defined by when I would see the people I missed most. Then, a lot of really good things started happening between those boundaries. Life reconstructed itself in those in-between times, and I think in realizing that, I've become a sort of lifestyle chameleon.

I bring it up because I'm missing two men in different ways. When the redhead left for France, I was sad to see him go, but felt confident in his coming back here to me and what we've started. He's due back here in two days, the majority of which I will probably spend in a haze, wondering just how great it will be when I go to see him the night he gets back, when he opens the door to his place, smiling and full of stories for me. He actually called me a couple days ago, just to let me know he was safe and missed me. He also says he has a ton of presents for me, which is surprising and fun. I'm curious to see what he's bought for me. You learn so much about a person through the presents they give. But I digress. The point is, I'm missing him, but not intensely, which makes me feel really good about where I am emotionally. I had fun while he was gone. I could have fun. There was a time in my life when I would have pined for him. Somehow I've grown out of that.

And then there's Mark, who I'm missing because we're divorcing. I did tell him that I was ready, and I am, but the instant I said it, I felt like someone I love had just died. It's an empty feeling that nags at me. I know what I'm feeling is due to the fact that, in a way, the entity that was Mark and I as a married couple will never be with us again. As I've said before, I rely on Mark for so many things. He knows me better than anyone, and to know that we're not going to be legally bound is a scary thought. Even though we've agreed to see each other regularly after we actually do divorce, I get scared that I'll lose him completely. Though I'm ready to be on my own again, the thought of him not being a part of my life throws me into a panic. I can go weeks at a time without talking to him, but it's the knowing that he's there, that we can pick up where we left off, that we love each other and will always love each other, that I'm afraid I'll lose. Ah well, there's no sense in worrying about it until it becomes a problem, right?

I don't know if I have a point, really. Basically, I'm a big mess of "What happens next?" right now. Only time will tell, I suppose. And really, that's okay with me.

Until my next post...

Love and Marriage

So this weekend is the weekend I tell my husband I want a divorce. I'm trying to pretend it's not happening, which may or may not be a good thing. There's a part of me that wants to prepare a speech with notecards and possibly some sort of visual aid, sit him down, and deliver my prospectus. There's another part of me that wants to get piss-wasted and blurt it out nanoseconds before I pass out. Both options have their pros and cons, but I'll probably just take him out to dinner and after, give him the news. As I've said before, this is perhaps the hardest thing I've ever had to do. It doesn't help that I love him a lot and want him to be happy, with or without me. But it's gone, and there's no getting it back. What am I gonna do?

On the flip side, I'm happier with the redhead than I remember being with any man. So happy, in fact, that I actually wrote my first name hyphenated with his last name in my journal. Silly, I know, but it's a compulsion. He's actually in France for his sister's wedding until next weekend, and I haven't told him about my plans to start the divorce process with Mark. I hate the timing of it all, because it seems like I'm leaving Mark for the redhead, but the truth is, I'm leaving Mark because through my relationship with the redhead, I'm realizing how devoid of some very important things my relationship with Mark is. I'm also realizing that I do have the capacity to love someone else, and in my opinion, no marriage should have that sort of wiggle room. I know that you don't always have to be absolutely smitten with your spouse, but you should be pretty damned sure they're the one, even when they leave the toilet seat up and you fall in in the middle of the night. If things don't work out with the redhead, I'm confident that I won't regret my decision to split with Mark. I'm ready to let him go, and am willing to face all the consequences that come with it. It's time.

I think that's all I have this evening. The divorce thing is too big. It fills my head and wears me out. Until my next post...

What's happening?

Things are good here in the great north for a number of reasons. Most notably, I'm in intense like with the redhead. He's good. Really really good.

Where to begin? Let's see, well, as I mentioned before, we were planning on spending all of Friday together. I drove to a nearby town to renew my driver's license and avoid the festival traffic, then went over to his place. We went downtown to grab lunch, and he talked about his frustration with card games. I suggested he learn Rummy, and he agreed to let me teach him. The rest of the afternoon/evening was a seemingly endless string of one Rummy game after the other, all of which I beat him at. Nevertheless, it was really fun. He didn't mind me trash-talking, which I noted, and loved.

That night, I told him about Mark, and he really did understand. He kissed me better than ever, and it made me feel like things were really okay. On Saturday, I left his apartment in the morning, feeling so good about him I could barely stand it. I decided to celebrate my new giddiness with a little Godwill shopping. I spent that evening at my friends' parents house on Rennie Lake, tooling around on the pontoon and listening to Johnny Cash again.

On Sunday, I met my friends with the twins downtown for lunch and beer, and we spent a couple of hours wandering amongst the throngs of festival-goers. I don't know if it was the beer, the big lunch, the sun, or the crowds, but I suddenly felt really tired and kind of sick, so I split a little early, inching my bike through the mass of people. After my ride home, I felt so yucky that I passed out on the sofa until the evening.

I stepped out to deposit my paycheck and get my daily Slurpee, and returned to a note from my neighbors posted on the door. They were drinking, it said, and I should come right over. I did, and we spent the evening watching Scrubs on DVD and smoking on their back deck. It was a nice night, cool and kind of breezy, and everyone was in a good mood. I haven't hung out with them like that in a while, and I felt reconnected. I also finally finished their wedding invitations and got them ready for the printer. All in all, it was an evening of good things.

The redhead had Monday off, and we had planned to spend the day together again. He worked really late on Sunday night (he got off at 2:30 a.m.), and I was hanging out with my neighbors until then. So, in a somewhat weak moment, I called him and asked him if he'd be down with getting together earlier than we'd initially planned. He was all about it, so he came over. Normally, I wouldn't call a man at 2:30 in the morning when I'd be seeing him later in the day. It's the kind of impulse that I have frequently, but I know that it can potentially make me appear much more interested in someone than I actually am, and in turn, freak the dude out. My point here is: The redhead was not freaked out. In fact, he was excited, and we stayed up until six kissing and talking.

On Monday, we slept in and went out to lunch. He suggested we swing over to the mall to visit an old friend of his, which we did, and as we were leaving, he put his arm around me and said, "Matt said that out of all the girls I've dated, you were one of his favorites." I wanted to say, "Not THE favorite?" just to be a smart ass, but didn't, and just loved that he 1) told me and 2) took me to the mall to see Matt. I get the feeling he likes to parade me around in front of his friends and family. And to be honest, I don't mind a bit.

We came back to my apartment and lazed around a bit. I felt a little queasy from the tamales I stuffed myself with at lunch, so we curled up on the sofa and he rubbed my back. It reminded me of Mark, which kind of freaked me out a bit, but I'll get to all that later. After my stomach settled, we ran to the store to get beer with the intention of drinking it while playing more Rummy. We did, and again, I kicked his ass, even after the beer. But again, he was cute about it.

At some point during our card-playing, we broached the subject of sex, and he admitted that he wasn't sure what pace I wanted to move at. He knew me before I was married, and he knew I was waiting until I got married to have sex. I told him I hadn't waited, though Mark was my first. I also told him he could be free to have his way with me, which cracked him up. I was semi-serious, but found myself surprised to say it. Like I've said before, the idea of sex with him is unbelievably exciting, but I want it to be the right time. But I have to say, after spending whole days with him on end, I feel safe about it.

From there, we launched into this whole talk about everything having to do with our relationship; My marriage, how he does and will fit in should we continue to see one another, etc. He pretty much told me that he'd hang in whatever I decide, and I warned him that should I get a divorce, he'd have to deal with the fact that Mark will still be in my life, no matter what. At that, he seemed pensive, but didn't say I was crazy. I think he just has to let it stew.

From that point on, he said a myriad of lovely things that I think about at various times during the days I don't see him. He told me that he's always thought about me, through all of his relationships, and wondered why we ever broke up in the first place. At one point he said, "You're it. I don't think I could ever want anything more from a partner." He then launched into all the reasons why he likes me, which I won't bore you with. My favorite, however, was when he told me I was "wicked smart" in a Boston accent. He also likes to tell me I'm "frickin' hot," which I also love.

So after all of the mushy-mush, we kissed a bit and he said, "You wanna go lay down?" I said, "Uh, yeah." and we did. The next minutes were a mess of us making out like crazed animals and tearing each others' clothes off. At one point he looked at me and said, "We're naked together," and we cracked up. The whole thing was just insane. There he was, this guy who I've known forever, sexy and funny and really, my friend above all else, making me feel insanely good and good about us, and I just couldn't take it. We started to actually do it, and it felt amazing, but we didn't have a condom, so we stopped. And then, looking at each other and just loving that we were there together, we decided to wait. I think it was just too much for the both of us. My god, that man is sexy AND a good friend. What the?

So yeah, I'm in a haze. I just really like him. And the prospect of loving him doesn't scare me either. He brought me flowers yesterday at work, with a card that said "You are mahvelous." How can I not be enamored? I'm just hoping we can keep this crazy-about-each-other-thing up, because it rocks.

My lillies:



And that brings me back to Mark. He's possibly coming up to visit in two weeks, and I'm going to tell him I want a divorce. I have to. I can't have a man on the side. Especially not one like the redhead. It's not fair to either of them. I'm really scared about how Mark will handle everything. I hate hurting him more than anything. I wish he could be the one making the final decision, but I know that he'll keep waiting for me, and I can't put him through it while I live it up with someone else I really like. It's just wrong. Ugh, the thought of all of it makes my stomach hurt.

So that's that, I guess. I'll have more news as time wears on. Until my next post...