Fates Worse Than Death...

I ripped off the title of a Kurt Vonnegut novel. BTAIM, here are a list of fates worse than death:

1) Being subjected to hours worth of "conversation" with a retiree who everyone was glad to see go. Think "About Schmidt"... the Jack Nicholson flick -- the part where he goes back to the office after retiring.

2) Eating Sushi and/or asparagus. Plus, asparagus and/or coffee pee.

3) Contemplating a future, alone. As in, a future of "alone-a-tude".

4) Warts

Okay, okay, warts aren't really that bad... but they do suck, right?

Anyways, number 1 is the only one that happened to me today. I have this nasty habit though, of walking the bane of my existance to the door and shuttling them off to lunch. Everyone knows I always walk home to lunch... so as this guy walked to the train-station, I doubled back around the building and took the foot-path to K Street for lunch. Hahahahaha.... It's fun to pretend that you're Sydney Bristow!!!

Just don't tell anyone I said so.

Peace.

Secret Agent X-9

Far From Home: The Cranberry Relish Saga (part I)

I am the sole purveyer of the Family Cranberry Relish recipe, from my generation. Grandpa Hubbard gave it to me on his death bed. Literally. Like a week before he died, he told me the secret ingredient.

See, my mom makes cranberry-orange relish, but it's not the same as Grandpa's Cranberry-? Relish. Sorry Mom: it just wasn't. And everyone knows it. So about 10 years ago when I got the recipe, I became the One to Make It.

The problem? To get the right consistency, one must use a meat grinder and NOT a blender or food processor to make the cranberries smaller. I haven't had a meat grinder in 10 years. But M.W. gave me his mixer a few weeks ago. IT HAS A MEAT GRINDER!!! Imagine the happitude and glee it gave me to know that this Thanksgiving, we'll have Grandpa Hubbard's Cranberry-? Relish!!!!

That was a few weeks ago. This is now. We're having our Turkey-day on Saturday, tomorrow. I just finished the Relish, but not without complications.

Suffice it to say for now, that no one was killed, no one went to the hospital. And there is an in-tact, servable portion of Cranberry-? Relish in the fridge. But that's all I can say..

Ha.

Dot.

Sunday-Night Must See Part 2: Run Fast, Run Far, And, Independence Day

Gray's Anatomy is now my favorite show. Not that I don't love DH, still... but one has to admit that Bree's problems would never happen in real life. Imagine if you will: a man forces a diamond ring on your hand and blows up your male friend's car when you dance with him. Ain't gonna happen in real life.

Meredith, on the other hand, is still smarting from her all-too-brief tryst with Derrick, while he looks to be having Sex with his Ex. My guess is... it's one last time "just to make sure"... By the end of the season, he'll leave Mrs. Dr. Sheppard for good.

Independence Day
As given by the lyrics to the chorus of the Martina McBride song
by the same name:

let freedom ring, let the white dove sing
let the whole world know that
Today is a day of reckoning
let the weak be strong, let the right be wrong
roll the stone away, make the guilty pay,
it’s independence day

Both M.W. and I share this date as our collective and respective days of Independence. It was a coincidence, but the retrospective of two years ago today was noted just a few days before the first posting of This Blog. I went into my details to a morbid degree... and some things were skated over in lieu of posting them to This Other Blog which is full of venom (my throat tastes like bile, just thinking about it), questioning, and self-and-ex-loathing.

Raise your glass and raise your voice -- Here's to women and men everywhere, whose lives have been hijacked from them by their alleged "significant other". Here's to their hurting and sad hearts, that they may find a way back to themselves (hopefully less painful than my route).

Peace,

Dot.

Grade A (plus)!

Usually, when M.W. kisses me, he jokingly gives me a "grade", like B- or C+, because he claims that if we keep practicing... someday we'll get it right. Hehehe... I kinda like it. But... as you might guess, sometimes it feels more like I can't do it right, can't make him happy, rather than an excuse for more "practice"...

Last night after dinner.... I asked how he felt. Since he has a Cold, I thought he'd say his night was an F. Instead, he pointed to his head and said F and then pointed to his heart and said A+...

An A+ for Dorothy!

[Grin]

Dunno how that happened.... but it makes me feel like all is at peace with the world.

Craving Rules!

Or, more appropriately: I am ruled by my cravings.

Last night, M.W. surprised me by braving Friday-night traffic and taking me out to dinner! I hadn't expected to encounter him again until this next Tuesday or Wednesday. I had mentioned craving chicken flautas really bad. He offered to bring me some from this restaurant near his place (almost 2 hours from my place). We went out to dinner at Chevy's instead.

On our table? Fire-roasted Salsa and Chips, Guacamole, Chicken Flautas, Beans, Rice, and Tortilla Soup (today, my typo said "Tortolla" but I'm not shure what Bahamas Soup would taste like... LOL). Oh.. and a CRAMBERRRY MARGARITA!!!

Then off to REI, where we decided to get my neice these for Christmas. I'm not sure about y'all, but when I was a kid growing up in Michigan... I wanted nothing more than to be "King of the Mountain" on a snow drift! As if that ever happened, unless I was on a sled.... And I wanted snowshoes so bad.

**sidebar**
Once, in grad school, I got chastized for italicizing a comma. Guess what? I, Dorothy, italicized only one comma in this sidebar. If you guess which one, then I'll stop hating my Prof. (I only thought of this, because at the end of the previous paragraph, I accidentally italicized the period. But you can't tell, right?)

So anyways, my Christmas Shopping will be finished by this evening. And I'll be eating Mexican Food for Lunch and Din-din.

Travelogue: a Song for the Lonely

My first trek into the San Joaquin Valley this week, brought stinging eyes, raw, sore throat, and a near-endless 3-hour car trip, with no music. I missed my Pookie, and wasn't going to see him for another week.

It's so difficult when you have a Pookie, to take out enough time to talk to him when busying on a business trip. And it made me sad when I got home, that poor Pook-a-licious M.W. was a sicky-boy.

The funny thing about my trip, was the way every body handled being lonely, differently. Several of the men, I knew to be married. I knew this, because I've seen wedding rings in the past. Not this trip. (Gross). Others very obviously got drunk and passed out, coming to the meeting the next day, totally hungover. One attempted to cozy up to me and told me about this hotel about 20 minutes north. Um... sorry dude, not interested. We (the two others from my office) drove around the canyon in the moon-light and then found a good pizza joint and had that and drank beers for a couple of hours, whilst watching SATC re-runs.

After getting home last night, it was quite obvious to me that 1) I like my home 2) My bed is lumpy, but mine 3) Home (I typo'd "hope") is where the heart is -- in other words, it's not where I live, but where I love (Still lonely, even after getting home).

Um, by the way, Valley Air is disgusting, and I don't like it.

Peace

Dot.

Sunday Night Must-See: True Love...

Sunday night is full of "guilty-pleasure" t.v. for me. Ty Pennington, Desperate Housewives and the insecure and reaching for straws Meridith Gray of Gray's An atomy.

I'm in the middle of D.H. where Bree very fortuitously said "True love is nice, but the Opera will do for now." She was referring to the fact that George, the dorky pharmacist, asked her to marry him. Bree is clearly not in love with him, but after all the pain she's been through, a good friend is what she needs right now.

We've all heard the stories before. Arranged marriages where over time, the couple learns to love one-another deeply. Currently, I find myself in a relationship where I fell in love with my very best friend.

Almost 3 years ago, we "met" over the phone. At work, his company contracted mine, and he called me to ask a question about my forecasts. I think it was on his birthday, because mine was 6 days later, and I told him so. We'd talked before, but that time we really clicked.... He sent a coffee mug to my office, and it was fun to have a friend that loved to talk about the weather as much as me. Over the year, our friendship grew from work issues to commiserating our failing marriages outside of work.

The first time we met in person, it was September. Coffee, a sight-seeing tour around the city, an urban hike, the local brewery, and this cyber-best friend turned into a real best friend. We got along great, had great conversation, and over the next several months while both of our lives seemed to crumble around us.... there was somebody there to console with, to shine the positive light on... talk about work, even argue with... a compatible best friend.

After we each separated from our spouses, we never got tired of talking to eachother. Even with 1500 miles separating us, the weekly phone calls turned into several times a week, and then daily. The email volume increased to dozens of times per day until we were a constant buzz of communication. It was two years ago this month that I separated, and M.W. was my best friend through it all.

Four months later, I made plans to come to California and work on some projects with him. It was allegedly going to be a lucrative proposition for me. Until the work fell through... eek. He was so generous, spending a week and a half with me, playing California tour-guide. I was so in love with him and so railed against falling for him or dating him.... look at all of the negatives: 1) He's my Best Friend 2) Age Difference 3) His Kids are My age (almost, see #2) 4) 1500 miles away 5) What would my mother say?

But somewhere along the track, I could no longer keep the feelings to myself. I knew he was attracted to me, he touched my inner child with his heart, and it was like no one had ever loved me before.

Are we perfect? Hell no. We're terrified of making mistakes again. Sad to say that these kinds of things go with the territory. But damn, it's awesome to have a disagreement with your boyfriend and, in the middle of a fight, lean over and ask if your best friend can come out and give you a hug!

So, Bree... if I hadn't just watched ol' Georgie-boy knock off your therapist, I'd say that the Opera is better than "okay". But it just won't do, to have a murderer for a spouse. Well, your philandering Rex was a bad choice, too, so wha the heck?

Dot.

What We Are: A Tribute To Mister Bobby Clothespin

My old neighbor died yesterday. You can read Jayleigh's account of his life and death here. Mine is a bit different.

I can remember that he was a nice man, and I remember all of the childhood memories too. But Mister Bobby Clothespin was special to me beyond words, because of who he was, and what I became.

He was one of those guys who defied the odds. All he wanted in the world, as a young man, was to be a pilot. We're talking WWII, here. But pilots had to have perfect eyesight. He didn't. But he passed all of the exams, and everyone marveled at his instinct... so they let him become a pilot. He always had great stories about flying over thunderstorms without onboard radar, and about the ladies in Japan, and stuff like that. Probably inappropriate for a 13 year old.. but I wanted to do a report on Japan for my 7th Grade Social Studies class, and he was the perfect resource. Even gave me a few yen to show the class.

After I moved away and started college, Mom would keep Bob informed of my progess. He was so proud that I was going to be a meteorologist! Whenever I came home and saw him, he would beam from ear to ear, hearing me tell about the weather, or what I learned. Since Aviation and Weather go hand in hand, he always loved knowing what I was doing. A couple of years ago my very first post on this blog was written from the chair of aviation meteorology for a major airline. Lots has changed since then, but Bob always beamed with pride, that I "made it".

Ha. (For those of you who have also "made it", you know why I laugh: it's the same reason why as grown-ups we still feel like kids -- we've not "made it" any more than we've "grown up"!).

So there was a mutual respect between us. Even after I was tasked to house-sit for him whilst in Europe, and my then-fiancee' (now-ex-husband) accidentally set his brand-new house on fire with a toaster! Bob still paid me $500 for 6 weeks :).

Godspeed, Bob. Now you're flying around with angels wings. Hope it's as fun as your old plane...

Peace,

Dot.

Animal Instinct... or Just Plain Bad Behavior?

M.W.s former shrew forgot to take Kiki to work this morning. I fail to see how, when someone is living with you and you tell them the night before, you can still manage to get up early and go grocery shopping, instead of take your daughter to work, like she asked you.

That is, unless you're a selfish, cold, heartless person.

I'm upset for both M.W. and Kiki, that they have to deal with her on a regular basis. Even moreso, I've begun to analyze that behavior, to try and understand it.

Bebe, here at the office suggested that sometimes when animals find inperfections in their young, they eat them. Or was it just to kill them? Anyways, shrew's abject selfishness might just be proof that she's an animal. A Hog, perhaps. Oh, oh... Piggy is her new name from now on.

Remind you of Animal Farm, anyone?

Life Goes On... and So Does Her Mouth (a rant)

I'm a GHaG. But for some fugly reason, I do enjoy all other GHaGs. Usually. So I used to hate myself for saying things like this because "Girl Power" and "I am Woman" and all that post-modern neo-feminist schtuff. But you know what? I hate catty bitches!

The GHaG at the women-only gym I go to? She started making fun of my collegiate t-shirts. Normally I would shrug this off, but it happens that I am very sensitive about people saying that I believe I'm smarter than everyone, just because I finished college. Okay, Okay, Michigan Engineering was hard. But I worked my a$$ off. I'm not brilliant. But I wanted to succeed. Passion. Drive.

I told them on Monday that they "weren't cool" for making fun of me. Tonight? They did it again. Well it's NOT cool. And I'm not excited to go back.

The thing is, the one GHaG realized she stepped in some deep doo-doo, because then she started talking and talking and it seemed like a train-wreck of lies, and she just wouldn't stop!

Grr. So I'm distressed and don't want to go back to the Playground that is my gym. And I don't want a super-sized version of Ms. Jordache (a playground bully of my youth) to make me hate every minute I have to spend in her giant presence. I'm a grown up, and I'm paying money to this establishment. And in the morning, I'm also calling her manager. If there's no satisfaction there, the owner of the gym, and then the better business bureau.

Dorothy don't pay to be abused. And it don't pay to abuse Dorothy.

Peace out.

Dot.

Confessions of a Chronic Nail-biter

Whilst removing my socks before bed tonight, I'm not sure why... but for a brief moment as I felt a snaggy toenail, and as I was lifting my foot toward my mouth... I actually thought I could bite my toenail.

1) Gross.

2) How?

3) I've lost all respect for myself by telling you this.

Sissy-girl.... Feelin' fine and recovering nicely.

My Dearest sister, Jayleigh had a cholycystectomy yesterday. I worried for her and prayed and all of the things a sister should do.

As I go through my life taking wreckless chances with my heart, with my safety, and with my life, it doesn't seem scary. I'm in control, I'm Dorothy, and I'm not afraid!

Even though I've been through a cholycystectomy myself, I couldn't help but worry for my sis. Even this thought went through my head: If it came down to me losing my car, house, job, and boyfriend versus losing my sister, I'd give up everything I have in the WORLD, to avoid losing her.

She's my bibba, you know....

Anyways, I am starting to realize that maybe my Jayleigh and my family, including M.W., worry for me too.

Peace.

Dot.