Friday, April 19, 2013

"I Feel Sorry For Their Mother"

Like the rest of the country, I'm sure, the topic over coffee every morning at work as we've started our day these last 4 days has been about the heartless bombing at The Boston Marathon.  The televisions in the breakroom and the patient waiting area have been tuned in to CNN and the remotes have not moved from their respective locations since Sunday afternoon.

This morning the staff was all aflutter over the news that one of the two most wanted had been killed and the second was being hunted.  There were no real mixed emotions among us; all were thrilled that progress was being made and, quite honestly, that one had met with death and the other would more than likely follow suit.  The consensus was "YES!", "shoot 'em in the street!", "rip their limbs from their bodies!".

I made my way back to my work station when Eric passed by.  He said to me, "Have you heard all the news, the updates?"  I said, " I have and I'm glad they're closing in on this."  Eric said, "I feel sorry for their mother."

I looked him dead in the eye and said, "What did you say?"  He said, "Can you imagine how their mom must feel?  I'm sure she didn't raise them to be killers, terrorists.  And now she's left to deal with the aftermath of what they've done.  And she has to face her family and friends.  I feel bad for her."

I don't know Eric very well but this is what I know for sure:

1)  Every morning, he comes over and pauses long enough to give me a genuine "good morning";
2)  Every monring, he says "let's have a good day";
3)  Every Monday morning, he approaches me, places his freezing cold hand on my shoulder and says "happy Monday";
4)  Every Friday morning, he says "happy Friday";
5)  Eric eats pizza for lunch at least once every week; always 3 slices, 3 very large slices;
6)  I am jealous of the fact that Eric can eat pizza every week and it doesn't go to his hips...or his waist...or his tricep area...
7)  Eric does not own a car but, instead, uses Metro or walks to where ever he wants to go;
8)  Eric loves my baking.  He is disappointed when he comes in on a Monday and there are no treats.  He tells me so;
9)  Eric will be sad when my assignment here is over and I'm no longer baking for my new friends;
10)  I will miss Eric when it it's time for me to leave.

I don't know Eric's Mama, either.  But if I ever have the opportunity to chat with her, I'm going to tell her what a sweet son she has.   

Thursday, April 11, 2013


It's toasty outside now.

I'm finally warm.

I'm happy it's hot and I'm warm.

I don't like being cold.

Being cold doesn't make me happy.

I don't like being unhappy.

I'm one of the some who like it hot.

Dr. Seuss' got nothing on me!

The End.

Monday, April 1, 2013

Mondays After The Beach Are Hard

It's Monday, April 1. 

I love it when a new month starts on a Monday.  It makes it easier for me to count.  It does.  Think about it. 

I think we'd all agree that Mondays, in general, are difficult for those of us who do the Monday thru Friday thing.  It means setting and hearing that dreadful alarm clock after sweet silence for two days.  It means feet to floor when you aren't REALLY ready yet.  It means routine, going through the motions.

But a Monday after being at the beach...well, that's just wrong.  It's sad, really.  It's AWFUL!!

I had a fabulous weekend.  I always do when I spend it at the beach.  It's true what they say, " a rainy day at the beach is better than a sunny day anywhere else"! 

I was down there to run The Spartyka 5K for the Wounded Warriors program.  We had a ball!!  I smoked it and no one got to know that because they didn't have age group awards.  I was deflated.  I am CERTAIN that I would've placed because I'm sure I was one of the older ones running!  Most of the group were the young military families ranging between 20 and 35 years old.  My Little One, however, high fived me and told me I rocked and that made me happy!

I also had the opportunity to meet face-to-face with the realtor who is working hard to help me make a small purchase there at the beach.  I will live in a cardboard box, as long as it has water, heating and air, if it gets me to the beach!  Mr. Scott was a pleasure to meet.  We've been talking and emailing for months and it was finally nice to put a face with the name and voice!  I am trusting him explicitly to make my dream come true!  And I trust he has my back.  Needless to say, I'm working on a shoestring to make this happen which is limiting my choices greatly - which equates to potential shaddy neighborhoods.  He told me flat out Saturday that he will not entertain a property for me that he wouldn't have his wife or sisters live in.  He knows I'll be by myself and he's looking out for my safety.  He's told me I simply need to be patient and we'll find somthing that meets all of my requirements and needs.  I've let him borrow my cape, even though it's for rockin' women and it may be a little small for him.  He appreciates the gesture.

My Wee One and I spent the afternoon and early evening walking her in-laws' dog on the beach.  BK Mineer was NOT happy.  That's a story for another post.  As I strolled, I was vascilating between complete contentment and utter sadness.  I was exactly where I wanted to be yet knew that in a few short hours, I'd be leaving - again...

My desire to be at the beach, to be closer to "the kids" is not new.  I've had a longing, a yearning for years.  I even cautiously mentioned it to my soon-to-be ex-husband years ago who responded immediately with "no".  So to know that, more than likely before Christmas, I will be living at the beach, is beyond mind blowing and utterly satisfying!  The Kids have lived there for about 8 years now.  During that time, I've grown to love the area, the lifestyle it offers, the people, the food, the laid-back attitude, the fit friendly mind set, the ocean...  I want to make this chapter of my life there.

But in the mean time, I have to settle for weekend trips every now and then.

Which makes Monday mornings especially difficult.



Thursday, March 28, 2013

This And That

Have you ever had so many conversations, thoughts, things-to-do-lists in your head that you didn't know what to address first?  That's where I'm at today.  Usually, if I put pen to paper - or, more accurately, fingers to keyboard - I can work through them and get myself on some sort of track.

I've proclaimed before that I am a fortunate woman.  But a friend recently refered to my "situation" as sad, or it made her sad.  I haven't been able to get that out of my head.  Am I coming across as a sad person?  I don't think I FEEL sad...and I KNOW what sad feels like.  Recently, I've been hurt to the core of my soul.  I've been severely let down by the person I was supposed to - and did - trust more than anyone.  I watched my grandmother die a slow, mean death and then helped bury her.  I watched my mother's heart shatter, never to be the same again.  I've moved three times in the last 9 months...blah, blah, blah... Wow!  I guess that picture does seam pretty grim.  But I'll tell you this for free, people.  I'm not sad.

With the undeniable love and help from my family and dear friends, I have picked myself up by my boot straps, dusted myself off and am moving foward.  And I actually have much to look forward to.  Frequent change seems to be a big part of my little life.  I'm okay with that because I don't want to be stagnant.  I'm just glad I have a dog that doesn't get car sick!  So please, don't cry for me.  I am A-O-K!

And if you follow me on Facebook, you may have learned that I got into the Marine Corps Marathon.  I think only another avid runner can truly understand my excitement level over this one!  I know I won't be able to master this sport for years and years so I've put a select few events on my bucket list to conquer before I box up my running shoes for good.  This was at the top of that list.  I am thrilled!  I don't have a finish time in mind.  This one, I am truly going to try and just enjoy.  I hope to pay close attention to the spectators, the cheerleaders.  I hope to appreciate the service men and women with whom I'll be running.  I hope to value the time I'll spend with our veterans.  I hope to commit to memory as much of the "ride" as possible and soak in the sights of our Nation's Capital.  Now, I just wait for October.

There's another move (if plans go accordingly) in my very near future.  I'd like to say this is "it" but I've come to learn that's a foolish expectation to have!  And that's okay.  I really don't mind uprooting and trying something different.  It gives me another opportunity to meet new people, experience new surroundings, make a new friend, re-invent myself, possibly change my way of thinking.  And this is going to be one sweet location folks.  I get excited thinking about what the next twelve months have in store for me.  I know there will be bumps and heartache and tears; that's part of living and growing.  But I also know there will be thrills and laughs and hugs and memories made that will otherwise not happen if what's happened in this LAST year didn't happen!  Still with me?

And I became a Great Aunt a few weeks ago!  I can't begin to explain to you what this precious little girl means to me.  She represents a breath of fresh air in the lives of my family.  You know the death cloud has been hanging over us for 2 years+.  To see the pinkness in this baby's cheeks, to smell her sweet little body, to feel her warmth when I hug her is to fill my heart with unconditional love.  I will tell you that it took my family and me a LONG time to get to the point of acceptance with this angel -  shame on us.  But we arrived and she is loved and is secure.  I plan on making her my protege.  I plan on helping her make her mother nuts.  I've accepted the responsibility and I'm up for the challenge.  I will be certain that I am her favorite.  I call her Baby Carl.  It's our "thing".  Her name is Raelyn (Rae is the middle name of her grandmother, Lynn is my middle name.  Cool, huh?).  You have no idea what it means to me that I have meant THAT much to my neice that she would honor me in such a way.  Fortunate me, huh?

I'm heading out again tomorrow afternoon for a weekend at the beach with my Wee One.  I'm stoked!  I wish it were tomorrow afternoon!  I have a lot to do this afternoon/tonight.  There's not enough time.

Sunday is Easter.  The only thing Easter means to me is a basket full of chocolate and a few hard boiled eggs - and a present!  We look for any reason to exchange presents!  I'm hoping for a 'bucks gift card!  Whatever Easter means to you, I hope it's a fabulous day.

I'm looking forward to the weather warming up.  I'm tired of being cold and pissy and wearing bulky coats, regardless of how cute they look!  I want to put on something sleeveless!!  And I want to ride my bike!  You know, the bike I obscessed over for months and finally bought - in DECEMBER!  Not the smartest decision I've ever made.  Considering my Tri is in 3 months, I might want to put a few more miles on the thing other than the 16 I've already riden....yeaaaaahhhhhhhhh.

Chatter.  This has been nothing but chatter.  But it's been helpful to me. 

Thanks for being there.  And hey, don't be sad for me.

It's all good....


Wednesday, March 13, 2013

I'm Going To Write A Letter

In a matter of a few, short days, it will be one year since I left North Carolina.  One year since, let's be honest, I was asked to leave.  Ok, he didn't come right out and ask me to leave but he knew financially I could not stay there on my own.  In our home.  Surrounded by everything I'd worked for and loved.  In the home that my father virtually rebuilt.  Surrounded by my pets and my new, dear friends.

A lot has happened in the last year.  And a lot has not. 

During the last twelve months, I have not heard from ONE member of the Mineer family.  Not my soon-to-be ex-husband, not my father-in-law or his wife, not my sister-in-law or her husband.  No one.  No.  One.

How is one a member of a family for 13 years and then one day...POOF!  I simply cannot wrap my brain around the fact that ALL of these people have just flipped a switch in their hearts and completely written me off, as if they'd never known me?  This is the part of this separation and pending divorce that I cannot accept.  I get that things end.  I get that relationships stop.  What I don't get is how these people can simply no longer acknowledge me.  They never reached out when this all started to say "I'm sorry", "is there anything we can do", "it's been nice knowing you".  Nothing. 

Because of this, I can't find closure.  I go about my day-to-day routine and really don't think about my situation much.  I have a lot to look forward to and that's where my attention is focused.  But every now and then, it creeps in.  And I get angry and frustrated and sad and pissed and, and, and.

So, I've decided to share these feelings with these people instead of keeping them to myself.  I mean, I think they have a right to know what I'm experiencing and how they've made me feel.  I think it should be brought to their attention just what shit heads they are.  Maybe no one's told them before?

So, I'm gonna' write a letter.  And seal it with a kiss.    

Friday, March 1, 2013

I Wish I Had The Nads...

My brother and I weren't raised in a home that practiced or promoted religion.  No real reason that I can come up with.  The only thing my mom ever told me was that she simply got tired of fighting with us and my father every Sunday morning while trying to get us up and going and ready for church.  She decided, I guess, "Screw it!  Let them decide and figure it out when they're adults."  As I entered into young adulthood, I got a little pissy over that decision.  Mainly because I had a lot of unanswered questions.

My (soon-to-be-ex) husband, on the other hand, was raised in a very religious home.  His grandfather was a preacher, his father a deacon, his brother in-law a preacher.  He had god in his soul (yeah, that's debateable).  After we married and moved to North Carolina, he was determined that we were going to find a "home" church and that it was going to be an intregal part of our marriage.  I succumbed.  We did and it was...for awhile.

The short version of the paragraph above is this; he backed out and I got sucked in.  I was in deep for a number of years.  But, looking back, there was always a question in my mind, always a hint of doubt.  And as my life started to crumble and death was surrounding my family and me on a regular basis and I got NO feedback, support, outreach from my church "family", I threw my hands up and said, "fuck this!".  I haven't been back since.  As a matter of fact, I now consider myself Agnostic.

If I had a set of balls, I'd reply to every Facebook post that said "thank god", "what a blessing", "my prayers have been answered", "please pray for my....", " I am so blessed".  Because no...all of what's going on in your life, FB friends, is of your own doing, circumstance, pure luck or your blatant hard work!!

I'm not "bitter" because of the twists and turns my own life has taken.  I'm not bitter.  I just don't understand how people can believe in and elevate a being or beings to such a high regard.  I've heard over and over that "god doesn't make mistakes".  REALLY?  R-E-A-L-L-Y??????  Has god been to a hospital recently?  I had a patient last week that is a 15 year old with down syndrome and has now been diagnosed with LEUKEMIA!!!  And today, I learned that an 8 year old that I knew was coming in for a procedure to assist with his CHEMO treatments because he has a BRAIN TUMOR, is ALSO BLIND.   If these aren't mistakes, I don't know what is.  And if he's supposed to be a loving and caring "father", he sucks at it. 

I think, simply, shit happens.  And we're left forced to deal with it.  I think we're where we're supposed to be when we're supposed to be there.  I think we suffer the consequences-good and bad-of the decisions we make.  I'm not convinced there's a heaven where the streets are paved with gold.  I believe in ghosts and spirits and I'm not UNconvinced in reincarnation (can we say "deja vu  - - wow, I feel like I've been here before??!!").

I'm going to continue to look long and hard for a set of balls.  And I'm sure I'll find them because, one day, someone's going to post "I am so blessed" and I'm just going to go postal on social media!

When that happens, pray for me?      


Thursday, February 28, 2013

Who Am I To Judge?

Hello, followers...all, well, I don't know how many of you I have anymore!  It's okay.  This blog is more a therapy couch for me than anything else.  It's a public diary.  A "public diary".  Is that a type of oxymoron maybe?

A popular blog that I follow recently had a chat session on "how you perceive yourself".  The basis of the topic was, do we perceive ourselves as others do.  Do we see our traits or downfalls the same way as our loved-ones do, as strangers do? 

A young woman weighed in and, while giving her opinion, mentioned she was in the throws of a divorce.  She said she thought that her husband felt like she wasn't worth fighting for or staying with.   She knew that wasn't true but part of her felt he may be right. 

An angel immediately responded and said, " hurts my heart to hear you say that you were not worth fighting for".  But here, HERE is the BEST part of her response... "I think divorce is like separating ingredients, sometimes things that are awesome are not well paired.  Like Altoids and orange juice."

I am simply waiting for the required year to be up before my divorce will be processed and finalized.  I didn't ask for it.  I never planned for it.  I never expected it or saw it coming.  But the overwhelming feelings of "What did I do?"  "What could I have done differently?"  "Why wasn't I good enough?"  "What does SHE have that I don't?" often take over my brain. 

There are two of me - AT LEAST.  Me #1 berates me and replays these questions over and over in my head.  But Me #2 knows better.  Me #2 knows that he is the quitter, not me.  I would've seen it through - my marriage, I mean.  I would've settled.  I don't know if that would've been wise or healthy, but I would've done that because I'm not a quitter.  Me #2 struggles every day to believe I am where I'm supposed to be at this moment in time. 

But now I have this mantra to tell myself when I'm in the pits.  This crazy analogy that makes total sense.  We were ingredients that, separately are awesome, but simply cannot be paired. 

Me #2, "It wasn't your fault, Joyce."