Lookee what I did!

Last year, I made cake balls and Oreo truffles for the first time. (I've gone over to the dark side - I'm calling them cake balls now even though it still sounds naughty every single time I say it. Every. single. time.) I impressed myself with the way the cake balls turned out but the truffles were just white squares with Oreo crumbs sprinkled on top. Delicious but nothing special to look at.

But this year…

I made cake balls and Oreo truffles again. This year, instead of a boxed chocolate cake mix, I used my double-top-secret recipe for red velvet cake (ok, fine, it’s Paula Deen’s recipe – but use 3 eggs, not 2 - it is A-MAY-ZING) and homemade cream cheese frosting for the cake balls. Soooooo delectable!! So mind-blowingly yummy that it was an major exercise in self-control and selflessness to pack them into tins to give as gifts. I wanted to eat all 91 of them myself. (I only ate 67.)

I decorated them the same way so there’s nothing new to see.

But

this

year…

I decided the Oreo truffles needed a touch of zig, a bit of zag.

I am so pleased with how these turned out I can hardly stand myself.

It took a whole weekend and every implement in my kitchen - not to mention splatter-painting the whole kitchen with almond bark - to achieve this glory…but it was so worth it.

I am ridiculously proud of this small accomplishment.

And I won't make them again for another 11.5 months.

The chocolate brown, boucle-knit, cowl-neck, batwing sweater

One October Saturday when I was 16, Mom and I went shopping. (Ah, those idyllic days when I actually enjoyed shopping! Little did I know that spending my own money would strip the joy right out of it.) During the course of the afternoon, I found a sweater I wanted. It was love at first sight. It was a chocolate brown, boucle-knit, cowl-neck, batwing sweater. (It was 1981, ok?) It was gorgeous, the most beautiful sweater I had ever seen, and made me feel pretty, sophisticated, and sexy. (I didn't tell Mom that last part.)

Somehow, Mom convinced me to wait, to look around some more. I was skeptical, and probably a little petulant, but I reluctantly agreed.

A couple of weeks later, we returned to the same store. I flew across the store to the rounder where that sweater would surely be waiting for me to love it forever.

It
was
gone.

I was heartbroken. And then I was mad at Mom in the way that only a 16-year-old girl can get mad at her mother. I was rude, I was snotty, I was insufferable. I whined and cried and castigated my mother for not letting me get the sweater when I first saw it. I swore that my LIFE was OVER, no one would EVER LOVE me, all the boys would think I was UGLY and I was SURE to get bad grades and NOT get asked to the PROM because I didn't get the chocolate brown, boucle-knit, cowl-neck, batwing sweater and she was the MEANEST, worst mom ever and it was SO UNFAIR!!!!!!!

Mom listened in stoic silence as I fretted and flounced back to the car. She pulled out of the parking lot and headed home, quiet against my dramatic railing. Finally, with the car stopped at a stop light, she turned to look at me. During a pause in my Oscar-worthy monologue, she said:

"The sweater is under my bed. I bought it the day after we were here before. It's a Christmas present for you."

Oh.

Um.

That shut me up. I don't really remember what I mumbled in reply, but I'm sure it included "I'm sorry" and "I didn't know" surrounded by many tears but, really, it didn't matter. She put me in my place but good. I remember feeling embarrassed and sheepish.

Nothing keeps a 16-year-old girl down for long. Soon, possibly even later that day (I had some seriously stupid cojones at 16), I asked if I could have the sweater then, since I knew it was there. My mother said that because of my horrible behavior she wasn't sure she was going to keep the sweater...but if she did, I would not get it until Christmas Day..and I would not know until Christmas Day if she had decided to keep it or not.

I would like to report that I spent the next two months in a constant state of anticipation and mortification but I didn't. I do remember that I was curious about the fate of the sweater - and also that I still wanted it. It was a great sweater.

By Christmas morning, though, I was definitely on pins and needles. As we exchanted gift after gift, I would think "is this the one?" but my hopes faded with each opened box.

Finally, there was only one gift left for me. The box was the right size, the right shape, the right weight to contain a chocolate brown, boucle-knit, cowl-neck, batwing sweater. My breath caught in my throat and my heart stopped beating as I tore through the wrapping. I closed my eyes as I pushed back the tissue paper...

There it was. Chocolate brown. Boucle knit. Cowl neck. Batwing sleeves. The sweater of my dreams and of my humiliation. The sweater that showed that my mother loved me more than she disliked my behavior.

I wore the chocolate brown, boucle-knit, cowl-neck, batwing sweater to Grammie's that day and on many, many occasions after that. I really did love that sweater - to this day I remember the richness of the color, the soft nubbiness of the boucle knit, how deep the cowl and how wide the batwing sleeves...but more importantly, I have never forgotten the shame I felt when Mom turned to me in the car that day and showed me with a few quiet words how petty and self-centered I could be.

The sweater is long gone, of course, but the lesson has stayed with me for almost 30 years.

Et tu, Barbie? And related tidbits

Tidbit #1: I love Barbie. OK, I heart Barbie in a way that would embarrass a lot of 5-year-old girls. Now, mind you, I love the really, really, ridiculously expensive Barbies that no one in their right mind would let a 5-year-old touch, let alone play with. My Barbie collection is pretty small because I can't afford all of those gorgeous, bedazzling, Bob Mackie-clad Barbies but I can tell you all about them. The glitter! The eyelashes! The over-the-top fashions and deliciously high heels! Ohhhhhhh, how I love them! (Did you know that Christian Louboutin thinks Barbie has cankles? What gall!) The latest Barbie Collector catalog arrived today, which brings me to...

Tidbit #2: Barbie has caught Twilight mania. The lovely folks at Mattel have created Bella and Edward - is nothing sacred?? (Stephanie? Do you need the smelling salts?) We'll see if my feelings change between now and Christmas, because...

Tidbit #3: In a very odd coincidence, all four Twilight books also arrived in the mail today. I am planning to celebrate Christmas with my middle sister and her family and my oldest niece is Twilight crazy. She sent the books to me so I can read them before Christmas. I love to read but my pace has slowed significantly these last months...four novels may be a tall order in less than 4 weeks. Especially when this is occupying the reading space in my head:

Tidbit #4: I drove 9 hours to my parents' house for Thanksgiving. I listened to the audiobook version of Loving Frank by Nancy Horan on the way there. I was disappointed to hear at the very beginning that it was an abridged version - I don't like abridged, I might miss something! - but it was still 6 hours of listening pleasure so I went ahead. I LOVED it!! I have been a huge fan of Frank Lloyd Wright architecture and the Prairie Style for years but never knew anything about his personal life. It's a wonderful, shocking true story and I want to get the book and read it in all of its fabulous unabridgedness and then keep it for my very own. My mom read it and loved it and my youngest sister has considered reading it - we all have very different tastes in reading material but it appeals to all of us. Youngest sister (hmmmm, my sisters need code names) may suggest it for her book club. I think it would be a terrific choice - the discussion would be so much fun! I listened to the book 5 days ago and I'm still thinking about it. It's a good one.

Tidbit #5: During the drive home, I listened to One for the Money by Janet Evanovich. I realized about two pages in (or maybe two paragraphs) that I had already read or listened to it. It's the bane of a voracious reader's life, I suppose - reading so many books that one doesn't recognize the title or cover of all the books one has previously consumed. Since I only took two audiobooks with me, it made for a long ride home. And made me consider the merits of keeping a record of all the books I read.

and a completely unrelated Tidbit #6: Overheard on tonight's episode of Accidentally on Purpose, a show that seems such fluff that it shouldn't keep my attention but I keep watching it:

James (the ex-bf): I miss you.
Billie: You should miss me. I am wonderful!

I love that.

A Love Letter to You

I started this blog one year ago today. I wasn’t really sure what I was doing but I felt like I had things to say. My goal was, and is, to share the real me.

Things get messy when human beings interact but so many people try sooooo hard to keep everything looking neat and tidy. I decided that I wouldn’t be afraid to expose my messy side. Sure, it makes me vulnerable but I’m a violet: delicate and pretty, sure…but hardy and resilient, too. I determined that I would be myself, say whatever I wanted to say, and take whatever feedback came with it. That feedback has, on the whole, been constructive and thoughtful.

This hasn’t been an easy year for me. Life has definitely thrown me some curve balls and because of that, I haven’t been as witty, clever, or interesting as I hoped to be. I have been honest, though, and sometimes that has been difficult but you have always been supportive.

I am honored that you read what I have to say and you keep coming back. In fact, you not only come back, you take the time to share your thoughts with me and I am always encouraged by your warmth, kindness, and candor. You give me perhaps the most honest, unbiased responses to my thoughts because you don’t have anything to gain or lose by being completely straight with me. That is invaluable and has provided me much food for thought.

I am looking forward to a second year of blogging – a year that will be happier, when I will share good news more often than bad, when I will find the silver linings and the rainbows and the unicorns frolicking in the… ok, maybe that’s going too far. So I’ll stop and just say thank you.

Thank you for your bloggy friendship.
I am grateful and I appreciate you.

Friday Fill-In #150 (Yeah, I know it's late Saturday)

1. The last band I saw live was Casting Crowns.

2. What I look forward to most on Thanksgiving is hanging out with my family.

3. My Christmas/holiday shopping is minimal.

4. Thoughts of possible changes fill my head.

5. I wish I could wear sexy, high-heeled shoes and be comfortable.

6. Bagpipes make me sad.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to the end of the work week, tomorrow my plans include raking and bagging leaves and Sunday, I want to go to the gym!

Fat

I am pretty.
I am intelligent.
I am charming.
I am funny.
I am loving.
I am compassionate.
I am fun.
I am kind.
I am talented.

But…

I am fat. Not just overweight. Not just curvy. I am obese. And too often that seems to trump all of my attractive qualities.

I wasn’t always fat. My parents say that I was a skinny pre-schooler. My kindergarten, first, and second grade pictures show a narrow face along with the mussed hair and missing teeth. But the third grade picture? Round face, chubby cheeks. I have no idea what happened in that year, maybe it’s as simple as hormones kicking in.

(How awesome are those red shoes??)

Whatever it was, that was the beginning of my struggle with fat. For the rest of my school years, I was overweight. All those years, I thought I was HUGE. My mother frequently patted my cheeks and said, “You’re such a pretty girl. If only you’d lose 10 (20, 30, 50) pounds…” (Ah, the anger just typing that generates!)

I bloomed early. I had a curvy, very womanly figure as early as 6th grade. I don’t remember trying to lose weight but I do remember being very embarrassed by my size and I was teased a lot and called awful names by the other kids. I played basketball in junior high, took dance classes, and sang in choir…but I spent every recess and lunchtime reading by myself.

When I got to high school, I discovered the theater and boys. I had good success with both – played the leads in plays and the second leads in musicals (because the lead can’t be a fat girl, y’know, even if she has the best voice in school) and dated a lot.

When I graduated from high school, I weighed around 170. Yes, overweight for a girl 5’4” with a small-ish frame, but not HUGE. Frankly, I was dead sexy. I was a brick house. I would give my big toes to have that body now!

(1983 was a good year for corduroy and fake logs. And how weird is it that my hairstyle has come full circle - except for the curling iron torture, it looks almost exactly the same now.)

I made a series of bad decisions over the next decade (tried and failed at college 3 times, married the wrong man), which led to a lot of depression and thus a lot of inactivity and comfort eating. I became HUGE. Not cut-the-side-of-the-house-open huge but fat enough that buying clothes that fit nicely is an issue. My body looks now the way my mother made me feel all those years ago.

(This photo is a few years old - the body is still pretty much the same but the hair is soooo much longer!)

I have struggled not only with my actual body but also with my feelings about it. I understand that my body is not attractive to the mainstream and yet I feel sexy and beautiful most of the time. Sometimes I want to be a “normal” size and sometimes I am perfectly happy with my body the way it is. I don’t want to be thin – I like my curves and don’t want to lose them. I do want to be healthier, move easier, and be more active…and those things will only happen if my body is smaller.

I had knee replacement surgery on both knees in the last year. There were at least three contributing factors – an injury, heredity, and my weight – but I have to believe that my weight was the major cause. Those surgeries brought me to the realization that my weight is taking a toll on my body even though I don’t have high blood pressure, diabetes, or high cholesterol. So I joined a gym 6 weeks ago and I am getting into the habit of exercising. I am starting to notice small changes and I have lost 6 pounds.

I know that losing weight will make me healthier as well as more physically appealing but there is a part of me that is ANGRY because I have to change my outside before most people will take the time to get to know my inside. I am an amazing, interesting woman with so much to offer – why is it so hard for people to look at me as a PERSON because I am FAT? I am tired of being invisible. Funny thing, that – I am usually the fattest person in the room but people often treat me like a piece of furniture. It’s an amazing and sad thing to witness people’s ability to not see me.

I think I lost the point of this post somewhere. I'm not looking for sympathy or for praise for my current efforts. This was triggered by yet another incident where I was ignored in that way that only happens to those who are fat or disabled. People don’t want to SEE us.

Too bad they don’t realize that if they would SEE me, they would discover someone wonderful.

Grace in Small Things #16

It’s been one of those days. As if the Himself sitch wasn't enough, work has sucked golfballs the last few weeks (yeah, pretty much ever since the praise from the boss). I need to force myself to find the sunbeam…

+ Warm feet. It took me 44 years to appreciate the value of wearing slippers but I finally get it.

+ Being told that my oldest niece brags about having pretty hands “like Auntie Vi.”

+ Noticing teeny, tiny little improvements in my energy level now that I’ve been going to the gym for a month. And maybe even some upper arm strength - I didn't even know I had arm muscles.

+ Knowing that I have options and knowing that I can take all the time I want to consider each and every one.

+ Chocolate chip cookies.

+ The security and comfort of unconditional love. I have two sisters and one best friend who always listen, always respect how I feel (even when it's the 17th day in a row when I've felt pouty and mad and stupid and weepy), and always respond with loving honesty.

It's amazing how quickly this little exercise works...oh, look - there's the sun!

Manic Monday #188

What does it mean to you to have courage? The definition of courage I like is being afraid but doing it (whatever it is) anyway. We all have opportunities to act when it would be easier to do nothing. In my life, I think courage is taking the risk of speaking up or standing up when I'd much rather go unnoticed. Right now, I'm searching for the courage to cause myself pain. I know severing the relationship with Himself is the only way for me to survive but, BOY, is it going to hurt!

Is your favorite time the past, present or the future? I wish I could say the present because it is the only place we ever really are but I have always looked to the future. The past is gone; my present has been unsatisfying for a long time. The future always holds the promise of happier days.

What makes you a good person? I could list a lot of virtues but I think it all boils down to the fact that I believe people are good and nice and trying to do the right thing. I trust people. I expect the best from people. Sure, that means that I'm often let down...but people often surprise me with their goodness, too.

Someday I will have good news. Today is not that day.

A month ago, I spent the weekend with Himself and we had a serious conversation about us. I came home feeling like the weekend was an ending and determined to shift my focus to other areas of my life.

I joined a gym and I am getting into the habit of going (and sort of, almost enjoying it) but I haven’t found a way to distract myself from Himself. We have stayed in pretty much the same contact as we have for months and he continues to say and do things that confuse me. So I started yet another conversation about us a couple nights ago and forced him to give me definite answers.

He loves me. He likes me. He wants me. I am as important to him as two of his oldest, dearest friends; he says he talks to me a lot more than he talks to them. But I am too far away and he doesn’t have the time/money/energy/interest in pursuing a long distance relationship and he doubts he ever will have the interest, even when the time, money, and energy are available.

We talked very seriously for about an hour…then chatted about everything and nothing for another FOUR HOURS. This phone call started at almost 11 p.m. on a week night, I had to get up at 6 a.m., yet we talked until 4 a.m. just because we were enjoying each other’s company.

W.
T.
F.

I need to find the strength and courage to say goodbye to Himself. I want to change how I feel so we can stay friends but I don’t know how. Maybe I need to give it time. Or maybe I need to put my big girl panties on and make the cut. I’ve done it before…but that man didn’t mean nearly as much to me as Himself does. For the time being, every time I have a hopeful thought where Himself is concerned, I remind myself that he doesn’t want me the way I want him to.

I am mad at myself, mad at Himself, and mad at the world. I feel defeated, hopeless, helpless, and weak.

Grace in Small Things #15 - The How did I Live So Long Without One? edition

Inspired by my new

Friday Fill-Ins #148

1. It was a dark and stormy night, this October.

2. I know how those overdue fines pile up so I offered to take the books myself.

3. Rushing out, she didn't stop to kiss him goodbye.

4. The newlyweds must be home...I think I heard a howl!

5. Shhhh... that bone-rattling is enough to wake the dead.

6. I'll be yours forever if you give me something good to eat!

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to working out, tomorrow my plans include cleaning (and eating Halloween candy) and Sunday, I want to do absolutely nothing productive!

A meme

I am learning patience. It’s taken almost 45 years to get to this point, but it’s a very, VERY hard lesson for me.

I think too much.

I have a lot of love around me. I need to recognize it more often.

I wish I had an I-pod now that I go to the gym.

I hate washing dishes.

I miss Himself. Every minute. But it's ok.

I fear ending up like my Aunt Mary, who had a sad, misfortune-filled life and died in her mid-50s.

I hear that we may be forced to take “furlough” days at work. Bastards.

I smell nothing. Is that weird?

I crave financial security. Not lots of money – just a little more than enough to cover the bills would be great.

I search ed the world over and thought I found true love. She met another and, PBBBBLT, she was gone. (Sorry, it’s the first thing that popped into my head. And how does one spell that raspberries sound, anyway?)

I wonder what the next change will be. My life doesn’t go very long without one.

I regret that I didn’t have children. Now I hope that I will get the chance to be a stepmother.

I love every comment I get here. They make me silly happy.

I ache in my thighs. Seems the ol’ quads are still pretty weak after my knee surgeries and the new exercise regimen is making them scream.

I am not going to give up.

I believe that love is a verb.

I dance ballet…in my head.

I sing very well, In fact, my voice is recorded on an album. Yes, a vinyl album…which means no one will ever hear it again because turntables have gone the way of the 8-track.

I cry very easily.

I fight so many urges. Today I won two of those fights…and lost one.

I win games of trivia. My sisters dubbed me Queen of the Small Fact back in the day when Trivial Pursuit was all the rage.

I lose things only very rarely. I don’t try, I just almost always know where my things are.

I never win contests. Even when I enter.

I always see both sides of a situation. It’s a blessing but also a curse.

I confuse a lot of people with my quirkiness.

I listen to what other people say with their body language and even more so with their “vibe.”

I can usually be found on Yahoo IM. But I’m usually only visible to four people.

I am scared that I used up my happiness allotment in the first half of my life.

I need very little. I want a lot.

I am happy about joining a gym.

I imagine what having a good hair day would be like. I’m lucky if I get a good hair hour.

I tag freight cars. OK, I don’t…but I admire that artistic talent.

Wrong number - the next generation

Text message received at 9:23 p.m. last night:

hey jordan told me 2 tell u tht he doesnt like emily she hangs on him & he tries 2 get her off im helpin wit it but he doesnt like her he told me 2 tell u & make sure ur not mad at him

1 - I don't know anyone named Jordan.

2 - I'm not mad at him.

3 - I don't know anyone named Emily.

4 - She sounds lovely (and maybe a little kinky).

5 - I'm not surprised Jordan doesn't like Emily - guys don't really like it when a girl hangs on them.

6 - If Jordan "tries 2 get her off" it's no wonder Emily likes Jordan, though...but he may be sending mixed signals.

7 - Since this message wasn't for me, I am DYING to know who 'u' is and if there is mass confusion at school today.

8 - I am also curious if this is the same sender who wanted to know what time the game was and if it was home or away last Friday.

Grace in Small Things #14

1. Getting a very nice email from the big boss in which he thanked me for my professionalism and commitment to the organization after learning of a pending change that he knew would make me unhappy.

2. The Hershey Special Dark chocolate bar I enjoyed this morning. Yes, I know I said I don't eat chocolate when it's cold. Apparently, it's not cold enough yet...and chocolate was just the thing after the unhappy work news.

3. A quiet date with Mary Alice - just pizza, Dancing with the Stars, and conversation.

4. My wonderful, loving friends. They listen patiently as I ramble on and on about whatever is on my mind (*cough*Himself*cough*) and never seem to get bored or annoyed.

5. New shoes - a sweet little find at less than half the original price. They're just cute little Skechers but now I have something casual to wear besides Birks or my clompy, grass-stained Brooks. Besides, the S is sparkly!

Watershed

If you had told me two weeks ago that I would soon spend a lovely weekend with Himself, I would have laughed, said “Shyeah, right!”, thanked you for being sweet, and kept on keeping on.

Well, I just spent a lovely weekend with Himself.

Here’s how it happened:

The situation with Himself had been stagnant-ish for months. It had been sixteen months since we spent time together – so many reasons for that but it boils down to his lack of commitment to make it happen. So a few weeks ago I (finally) decided I needed to start moving on and I joined a dating website.

For months on end, Himself stressed that he wasn’t available for a romantic relationship and that we were Just Friends – who knew what would happen in the future, but Just Friends for now. At one point, he even encouraged me to date other men. (Boy, that hurt.)

The night before I left for Florida, I told my Just Friend Himself that I joined that dating site and a couple of men were showing interest in me. Local-ish men who even said they wanted to meet me. This is the kind of thing that Just Friends share with each other, right? Well, Himself exploded. It turned into a HUGE discussion-slash-argument (now known as “The Horrible Conversation”). I kept reminding him of his justfriendsjustfriendsjustfriends mantra and he finally calmed down enough to admit that I was right about that and he didn’t know why he was so upset. The conversation ended ok but I was extremely surprised by his reaction and more confused than ever. His reaction was not that of someone who only has “friendly” feelings toward me.

While I was on vacation, he texted me almost every day. It was the kind of fun, flirty dialogue we engaged in months ago, before he we agreed to be Just Friends. I loved it but grew more confused as the days went on. The first time we talked after I got home, I asked him what was going on in his head. He said that he was as surprised as I was by his reaction – that he was upset by the idea of me moving on. That realization spurred him into action and he checked his calendar for open weekends and investigated locations where we could meet somewhere between where we each live. By the end of that conversation, we had made a date for this past weekend. I was shocked, to say the least.

He did not, I must tell you, promise that our relationship was going to change. In fact, he said that he didn’t know if it would but that he wanted to see me, spend time with me and, as he loves to say, “take it from there.” I, by the same token, did not expect the situation to turn on a dime. I’m a hopeful romantic and so very in love with him, but I am also a realist. While a tiny little part of me hoped that he would take one look at my face and realize that he has been a colossal fool, I knew that was the longest of long shots. I believed (and still do) that we need that face-to-face time to determine if anything is ever going to come of us. It has to start somewhere.

Friday, I drove to meet him. It was so sweet, so AMAZING, to see his face, to actually be in the same air space and he felt the same way. We had such a good time together – we spent Saturday afternoon wandering around a funky little shopping district, just browsing through the shops. It was easy, fun, sweet, and romantic...but his vibe felt different to me. He was thoroughly engaged with me but seemed slightly reserved.

This morning I addressed what I was feeling and we talked for a long, long time. Long story short (yeah, I know…too late), the geographical distance between us is insurmountable to him. His life is still crazy, he’s still struggling financially, he has so many obligations, blah blah blah. Everything he said is valid…but I believe if you want something bad enough, you will make it happen. I have tried to make this relationship happen any way I could because I want it bad enough. He apparently doesn’t.

This so completely sucks. He loves me, I don’t doubt that for a second. He says that if we lived in the same city, we would be dating. He said he wants to see me “when we can” but doesn’t know when that might be. I told him I’m not interested in a Same Time, Next Year situation.

I am thrilled that I saw him. I am so happy that our weekend together was everything I hoped it would be…except for the part when I said to him “we don’t want the same thing” and he didn’t disagree with me.

I still love him more than I thought possible.
I still hope that Himself and I will have a happily-ever-after.
I still think he is overwhelmed by his life and not able to see a way to fit me in right now.
I still believe that when his life settles down he will find a way.

But things are going to change around here. It’s time for me to focus on other things. I won’t hold my breath waiting for another glorious, sweet, loving, fun, happy weekend that is much too late in coming.

I deserve to be a priority. I will no longer settle for a place at the bottom of the list.

Bullets

• The Tall One texted "how are u?" to me early last week. I ignored it. On Saturday, he texted "U still mad at me?" and I replied "I'm not mad...just done." Without any hesitation, he sent back "OK have a nice life." *sigh* Addicts never cease to amaze. I seriously doubt I've heard the last of him, but I hope I have.
  
  
• I will be traveling out of town again this weekend. This makes 4 fun trips in 3 months - which is unheard of for me! I'm loving every second of it...but, even though all of these trips have been on the cheap, my wallet is crying "uncle"!!
  
  
• All this travel has really pointed out how pathetic my wardrobe is. Anyone who wants to contribute to the Well-Dressed Violet fund is welcome and will be thanked profusely.
  
  
• And yet, I will manage to overpack. Especially shoes.
  
  
• I just thought of an unknown fact about me: I don't eat chocolate candy when it's cold. Chocolate cake, sure. Brownies, absolutely. (mmmmm, brownies!!!) But in the winter chocolate gets too cold and doesn't melt in my mouth and that detracts so much from my enjoyment of it that I'd rather not eat it at all. Farewell, chocolate - I will dream of our reunion next May.

Grace in Small Things #13

1. Every single second of my week in Florida with Mary Alice, Brick, and Gus the Dog. (More to come when I surface from my post-vaca coma.)

2. Feeling truly relaxed and rejuvenated after my week in Florida.

3. Finally making significant, satisfying progress on the work project that has been weighing on me for months. (hmmm, I wonder if that has anything to do with #2??)

4. The Krispy Kreme donut I just ate. I've never had one before because I don't really like yeast donuts, but WOW that was delish!

5. The good news I got last night. I won't share it now because I don't trust it yet...but it has to do with Himself.

A B C Meme

Just the other days, it occurred to me that I hadn't seen a good meme in a while. You know I love a meme. Just found this one over at Emily's spot, and it's a goody.

Available or married? Available

Best Friend? Mary Alice...I really need to blog about her one of these days. Maybe after we get back from the beach.

Cake or Pie? Cake. Unless it's rhubarb pie. But definitely cake.

Drink of choice? diet Pepsi

Essential item for every day use? Deoderant

Favorite color? Green

Google? "I gurgled it." Excellent quote from "Acceptance," a not-so-excellent, made-for-TV movie starring the usually-awesome Joan Cusack. (how 'bout those hyphens, huh??)

Hometown? Champaign, Illinois

Indulgences? Books, Starbuck's Java Chip ice cream, McD sweet tea, "Beautiful" perfume

January or February? February

Kids and their names? Zero

Life is incomplete without? Love in all its forms.

Marriage date? TBD

Number of siblings? Two

Oranges or apples? This time of year it's apples.

Phobias and fears? June bugs. *shudder*

Quote for the day? "For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, love and self-control." 2 Timothy 1:7

Reason to smile? The earthquake was mighty last night but my world did not crumble.

Season? Summer

Tag 3 people? It seems to be au courant to not tag, so I'm going with the flow.

Unknown fact about me? Just a few days ago, I thought of something unusual about me...but now I can't remember. Maybe it wasn't that unusual after all.

Vegetable you hate? Brussels sprouts

Worst habit? overanalyzing

X-rays you’ve had? Ummm... not the hands or arms, how's that?

Your fave food? Potatoes

Zodiac sign? Aquarius

Friday Fill-In #141

Graphic courtesy of Tonya

And...here we go!

1. That's a boneheaded way to be.

2. You're headed in the wrong direction; I'm over here!

3. The possibilities include: meat or cake.

4. Beef stew is one of my favorite cool day recipes.

5. How will you know if you don't ask.

6. She loved sitting on the porch, looking out over a field and a stormy sky.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to escaping from my life, tomorrow my plans include sitting, driving, talking, and counting the miles, and Sunday, I want to dip my toes in the Gulf of Mexico!

The Tall One and the Violet – Epilogue

Oh, the irony! Just a few days after Part Four of this story was published, the Epilogue played out…

The Tall One usually called or texted Violet every day. History had taught her that when she didn’t hear from him for several days, he had usually relapsed. So when over a week went by without hearing anything from him – even after leaving him messages asking him to let her know he was ok – Violet was very worried. She was concerned that if he didn’t respond to her, it must be because he couldn’t – she wondered if he was high, overdosed, arrested, dead on the side of the road… She considered calling hospitals and jails, even considered calling the Tall One’s sister.

Naturally, when the Tall One called after nine days, she was relieved. He said, “I’m alive!” and assured Violet that he was fine and had not relapsed. When she asked why he hadn’t returned her calls, he said he lost his phone on Wednesday, two days earlier.

Violet – OK, but what about the whole week before that? Where were you then?
Tall One – Well…. I met someone.

He explained that he met a woman at a church function, they were starting to date, and that he hadn’t called because he didn’t want to hurt Violet’s feelings.

Violet paused. She took a deep, cleansing breath. Violet doesn’t really remember most of the next segment of the conversation – that tends to happen when she is so angry that her head is exploding. Violet’s feelings weren’t hurt; she was angry because she had been understandably concerned about a friend who knew she would be worried about him and that friend chose to let her worry.

When Violet reiterated how worried she had been, the Tall One apologized for ignoring her calls. When she asked him about all of the times he professed that he is not ready for a relationship, he said, “You can’t help it when it just comes along.”

TO – I didn’t call to get criticized about my relationship.
V – I’m not criticizing your relationship. Oh, wait – yes, I am. I am criticizing your relationship with ME, your friendship with ME. This feels so much like 18 months ago.
TO – Oh no, she’s nothing like Jezebel. She’s completely different.
V – I’m not talking about her, I’m talking about YOU. I’m talking about how you treated me then and how you treated me now. Someone new came along and you stopped talking to me again. That’s not the way true friends treat each other.
TO – I’m sorry you feel that way.

He really didn’t seem to understand why Violet was angry. At the end of the conversation Violet told the Tall One that he has to decide if he wants to be her friend whether he has a girlfriend or not. The more she thinks about it, though, the more she realizes she doesn’t want to give him another chance.

Violet is certain that the Tall One will call again, probably when his new romance fizzles and he needs someone to talk to. Violet is a loyal, faithful friend who understands that friendships ebb and flow, but she is not a doormat and will not allow the Tall One another opportunity to discard her.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

Violet is thankful that the Tall One didn’t relapse. She hopes he stays clean and in recovery, and she wishes him well with his girlfriend (and she wishes the girlfriend a strong heart and a clear mind – she’ll need it). Unfortunately, sadly, this is the end of her friendship with the Tall One. Violet has a very soft heart but she is not a fool.

The end.

Friday Fill-Ins #140

Graphic courtesy of Tonya


1. I feel worried, frustrated, confused, irritated, unsettled...and oddly peaceful.

2. Cow racing on the Wii is always fun.

3. Right now, I can hear these things: the air conditioning system, my computer, myself chewing.

4. There are many things on my mind and I'm glad God keeps reminding me to lean on Him.

5. The last time I rode a ferris wheel was decades ago. I need to change that.

6. I do not plan to labor this Labor day weekend.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to welcoming my parents (well, mostly...sorta), tomorrow my plans include a big family reunion, and Sunday, I want to attend church then maybe go to a movie!

The Tall One and the Violet, Part Four (it’s long, but it’s the last part)

Read Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Violet strode out of the church, determined never to speak to the Tall One again. Naturally, then, she answered when he called just a couple of weeks later. He told her that Jezebel had relapsed and was using drugs again. When he first got involved with Jezebel, he assured Violet that if Jezebel relapsed he would break up with her immediately. He didn’t. Violet was disappointed in him but not really surprised.

For the next month or so, the Tall One would call Violet when things got bad (ok, they were always bad, so…worse) with Jezebel. Violet asked God to change her heart where the Tall One was concerned…and He did. It was not easy at first, but she was able to be the Tall One’s friend. She listened, she offered advice, and she verbally whacked him upside the head when he needed it (so, pretty much every time they talked) – although she knew he wouldn’t listen. Time after time, he told her that when some new depth was reached, he would break up with Jezebel. But time after time, they sank to that depth and he stayed with her.

After he’d been involved with Jezebel for about three months, the inevitable happened: he relapsed. It started with alcohol but before long Jezebel dragged him down with her and he eventually became addicted to crack. He never called Violet when he was using or high but always called a few days after to tell her what he had done. She felt like his confessor.

Violet soon recognized that the Tall One was sinking ever deeper into active addiction and it was becoming more difficult for her be his friend. Until now, the situation with the Tall One had not affected Violet’s life outside of her relationship with him. However, one night she shared the latest turn of events with Mary Alice, her BFF, and they got into a horrible argument. Violet realized that the chaos from the Tall One’s life was beginning to seep into her own life and that was not acceptable. She would not tolerate anything that would jeopardize her friendship with Mary Alice. She realized that she needed time to think, to wrap her head around everything, to decide if she could – or wanted to – continue to stay involved in the Tall One's life in any way. Al-Anon had taught her that she could not do anything to stop the Tall One from using and she had to figure out if she could abide the chaos that had become his life. So she told the Tall One that she didn’t want to talk to him or hear from him for 30 days.

He respected her wishes for about ten days. He called late one night and said, “I know it hasn’t been 30 days but I need my friend.” His relationship with Jezebel continued to be more and more chaotic and drug-filled. Violet told the Tall One in no uncertain terms that she wouldn’t have anything to do with him as long as he was using. He became angry and irrational and the call ended badly. Violet thought she might not hear from him again. She believed that she would eventually read his obituary in the newspaper.

Time passed. Violet thought about the Tall One often, but she had let go of all expectations. She was simply concerned for his well-being and prayed that he would find recovery before drugs or the drug world killed him. During this time, she met and became romantically involved with Himself (another sad tale).

One day in early summer, the Tall One called. He said that he had finally ended his relationship with Jezebel, who had again left town to seek treatment. He had lost his job, indirectly because of his drug use, and was unemployed. He checked himself into a local treatment center and stayed for three weeks. When he left treatment, he went straight to his drug dealer to buy crack.

A couple of weeks later, he checked back in to the treatment center but left only a few days later after an altercation with a fellow patient. He drove from the facility to Violet’s apartment because he didn’t have any money or enough gas to drive home.

Violet was in bed reading when her doorbell rang at 11:15 that night. When she looked through the peephole and saw the Tall One standing on the other side of the door, she hesitated to open it. Why was he there so late? Why hadn’t he called first? Was he high? Was he in trouble? She opened the door just enough that she could speak with him. He explained why he was there and, after determining that he was not high, she let him in.

They talked late into the night and the Tall One asked if he could sleep on her couch that night. She reluctantly agreed – and she slept with her bedroom door locked. The next morning, they drove to a gas station and she put $20 worth of gas in his car. As she paid for it, she said to him, “this will never happen again.” He promised it never would…and it never has.

That was a year ago. Since that day, the Tall One has continued to struggle with his addiction and hasn’t managed to string more than 60 clean days together at a time. He found a decent job but the company laid everyone off in January and he has been unemployed since then.

Jezebel resurfaced and called the Tall One – ironically, on Violet’s birthday, exactly a year after the Tall One’s testimony at church. He spoke to her but rejected her suggestion that they meet. He hasn’t heard from Jezebel again.

The Tall One’s life is in ruins. He doesn’t have a car anymore, which makes it difficult to apply for jobs or attend Narcotics Anonymous meetings but he really makes an effort to get rides when he needs them. He and Jezebel sold many of his possessions to get money for drugs, so he doesn’t have much besides a depressing little apartment, a borrowed television, and a cell phone that sometimes he can afford and sometimes he can’t. His past behavior alienated most of his family, including his mother. He tries very hard to maintain a decent relationship with his children but it is difficult under the circumstances. He is looking for a job and trying to repair the relationships he has damaged.

If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you know that Violet has struggled with her long distance relationship with Himself over these last months. The Tall One has been a surprisingly positive source of support and encouragement to her. Violet’s relationship with the Tall One has evolved into a loving, extremely candid friendship. She believes that he is a wonderful man with a colossal problem. He knows that she will be there for him as long as he respects the boundaries she set.

None of us knows what the future holds or where our lives will lead us. Neither Violet nor the Tall One would have chosen the paths they have traveled. At this point, those paths still intersect, so as long as their friendship works for both of them they will continue to hang out occasionally, provide emotional support for each other when necessary, and encourage each other as best they can.


As of today, I haven’t heard from the Tall One in six days. When he is ok, he calls just about every day. No contact for this long almost always means he has relapsed again. I am worried about my friend but all I can do is wait and pray that he will call to let me know he is ok.

Manic Monday #180

Are you usually late, early or right on time?
I'm usually right on time...even though I'm late posting this!

What would be harder for you, to tell someone you love them or to tell them that you do not love them back?
It would be very difficult to tell someone that I do not love them. I think I would probably not say anything at all.

Which would you rather have: a high salary or job satisfaction?
One reason I'm late posting this is because I have been pondering this question. Job satisfaction is important - we spend so many hours of our lives at work that I believe we must be happy while we are there. HOWEVER, money is always such a huge worry for me that having a high salary - or even one that is more than just enough - would be such a relief. So I'm gonna pick high salary.

The Tall One and the Violet, Part Three

Read Part One; Part Two...the editor is beginning to feel like the Pioneer Woman.

When the Tall One mentioned that he had lunch with “a friend,” alarms rang in Violet’s head. He told Violet that the woman – let’s call her Jezebel – was someone he met at an NA meeting the previous fall. She was a heroin addict who had been “away” (code for seeking recovery at a treatment center) for some time and had just returned to town. She was unemployed and had very little money and had rented an apartment in a bad neighborhood. She was, he said, afraid to stay there by herself. So he, gallant man, offered to sleep on Jezebel’s couch that night. He assured Violet that nothing untoward happened between him and Jezebel. Violet didn’t believe him for a second…and her world tilted off its axis.

The Tall One fell under Jezebel’s spell and she had him twisted around her twisted little finger in record time. By Thursday of that same week, he told Violet that their church/birthday plans were off because “I’m with her now.” Anytime he spoke with Violet, Jezebel was sitting right next to him, listening in on the conversations. Violet was devastated. She couldn’t believe that this compassionate, kind, loving man could change so drastically and quickly into the unfeeling, cavalier person on the other end of the phone. She didn’t argue with him so much as try to understand what was happening. How could he go from loving her to discarding her from his life like a used Kleenex? Violet told the Tall One that, while he may not have started drinking again, she felt like she was seeing him in active addiction. She began to think of the Tall One as two people: the Tall One, the sweet, fun, if troubled, man she had known for a year; and the Addict, the mean, selfish maniac he became the instant he met Jezebel.

Violet was devastated but she was also royally PISSED OFF. She had supported the Tall One during all those months of his recovery – taking his late night calls when he needed to talk, encouraging him to go to meetings and to talk with other recovering addicts, attending Al-Anon meetings (which was for herself, really), sending him cards to celebrate each month of sobriety, whatever she could do to cheer him on. She knew that she was his only reliable supporter and she knew that the Tall One truly appreciated that support. The Addict acted like he didn’t care about anything and that made Violet very, very angry.

She realized that her birthday celebration was not going to happen, but she felt she had a right to hear his testimony at church that Sunday. She told the Tall One that she was going to be there whether he (or, more importantly, Jezebel) liked it or not. He sputtered, he argued, he ranted…and then he conceded. He told Violet that since there were two church services, and since he was to speak at both, Jezebel would go to the early service and Violet could attend at 10:00. Fine, Violet agreed.

Sunday morning, just as Violet was leaving home, the Tall One sent her a text: “Jezebel will be there at 10.” After the insane conversations with the Tall One/Addict over the previous days, Violet knew that this was an attempt at manipulation by Jezebel and that the Tall One was clueless to that manipulation.

Violet’s head exploded off of her shoulders but she managed to reply: “Fine.” Her hands shook and her heart pounded as she drove to the church, but Violet was determined to be there to support the Tall One on this important day.

When she arrived, the vestibule was full of churchgoers but she easily found the Tall One because he was...tall. He was, thankfully, by himself, and they attempted to make incredibly awkward conversation, during which he told her that her presence was making everyone uncomfortable. Violet’s head exploded again but she knew it would be useless to point out that she was not the one who changed the plan. Soon Jezebel appeared at his side. Violet tried to be cordial but she knew that the sour look she gave Jezebel was full of loathing. Violet’s actual thought at the moment was, “THAT? He chose THAT over ME?” (Not exactly a spiritual or charitable moment, hmmm?) Jezebel was even lower-rent than Violet had expected.

They endured a moment of introductory, even more awkward, conversation. The Tall One escorted Violet and Jezebel into the sanctuary. He sat between them. During the service, he put his arm around Jezebel and she cuddled close. They held hands. They leaned into each other. They whispered to each other and batted their lashes. Violet could hardly imagine behavior more rude or unkind, not to mention inappropriate in church. Somehow Violet managed to keep from crying, probably because she was filled with rage and was too busy restraining herself from punching them both in the mouth.

The Tall One gave his testimony. Violet felt like he was lying to himself and to the congregation with every word out of his mouth, but even so, she was proud of him and hoped his own words would bring him back to sanity. When he returned to the pew, it seemed to her that he looked to her for approval but then he sat down next to Jezebel, who immediately twined herself around him again.

After church, Jezebel mumbled a goodbye to Violet and slunk off to some dark corner. The Tall One retrieved Violet’s coat and helped her into it. She hugged him, told him she loved him, and walked quickly out of the church. This was her poetic ending. She fully intended to push him from her heart and mind and to never speak to him again.

And yet, there is one chapter left…

The Tall One and the Violet, Part Two

Read Part One here.

Just as quickly as they started, the phone calls from the Tall One stopped. Violet called him a few times and left messages, but he didn’t return her calls. Violet was not new to the online dating game and didn’t need the advice of Mr. Kenny Rogers to “know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em.” So she determined to add the Tall One to her List of Disappointments and move on.

Violet was surprised and bemused to find that the Tall One did not slip easily out of her mind. Every few weeks, she would feel a renewed sense of…concern…connection…something…and she would call him. He never answered and sometimes he returned her calls, sometimes he didn’t. When he did, their conversations were still fun and flirty, but there was an undercurrent of...something. Violet was worried about him, but the Tall One insisted he was fine, just busy and working a lot of overtime.

This went on for three months.

One Saturday, around noon, Violet was cleaning her kitchen when the phone rang. It was the Tall One, calling to say he was in the area and could he come over? Violet was surprised and pleased and, despite her unshowered, middle-of-housecleaning, sweaty state, she said yes. (She managed a quick shower before he arrived.) They greeted each other a bit awkwardly but warmly, and sat down on the couch.

The Tall One apologized for the gaps in their communication and for the long time since they had last seen each other. He explained that he is an addict – that he had been deep in a drinking phase during those three months and that he had very recently stopped drinking and started attending Narcotics Anonymous meetings. Violet was naturally taken aback, and remembered those beers from their dates and how odd it seemed. It made sense now. (The Tall One had been involved with NA on and off for years. He was mostly a drinker but had also abused OTC drugs from time to time.)

They talked for several hours. Violet had no experience with alcoholism or addiction and had no idea what she was dealing with, but being Violet, she decided that if he stayed sober they could see each other. It was so nice to see the Tall One again, so nice to spend time with him, and he seemed to feel the same way about her. Violet made it very clear that their relationship, whatever it was, would end abruptly if he relapsed.

And so, they started dating. The Tall One was attentive, polite, and open…mostly. Violet understood that it was early days in his recovery and gave him more leeway than she would give another man. That summer was a roller coaster ride – one day they were dating, the next just friends, dating, friends, dating, friends… (Perhaps there is a pattern here. Maybe Violet isn’t as smart as she thinks she is.)

Violet had major surgery that summer. The Tall One was very sweet during this time and even came over to meet her parents, who were staying with her during her recovery. One afternoon, Violet and the Tall One were having a conversation via text while he was at work. The end of it went something like this:

V - *some sarcastic, smartypants comment typical of Violet*
TO – smart aleck
V – yeah, you love that about me
TO – how about just loving you?

Violet suddenly couldn’t breathe, let alone push tiny little buttons on a tiny little phone. After a moment, when she was once again in control of her faculties, she called the Tall One. He must have gotten busy at work because the call went to voicemail. She left a message: “You send a text like that and then don’t answer your phone?? Call me when you can.”

An eternity (or, say, 30 minutes) later, he called. He told her he loved her and she was mildly surprised to hear herself say, “I love you, too.” He replied, “I know.” They laughed.

They continued to date and he continued to vacillate, but things seemed to be smoothing out. He had 60 days of sobriety, then 90, then 150. All in all, things were good. They enjoyed each other’s company throughout the fall and into the winter.

Violet’s birthday is in February. February also marked a year since the Tall One first IM’d Violet. The Tall One had plans to give testimony about his addiction and recovery at church the day after Violet’s birthday and they made plans to celebrate both occasions. She would go to church with him to hear his testimony and then they would go out for lunch.

Tuesday afternoon, five days before their church/birthday date, Violet called to chat with the Tall One. He casually mentioned that he had lunch with “a friend” that afternoon. For some reason, those two words set alarms clanging in Violet’s head. When she asked who he had lunch with, the Tall One hesitated, then said again, “a friend.” She pushed. And the Tall One admitted that it was a woman.

Sounds like another ending, doesn’t it? Perhaps it should have been, but it wasn’t…

The Tall One and the Violet, Part One

Sounds like a romance novel from 25 years ago, doesn’t it? I’m picturing a ridiculously beautiful woman with ridiculously long, ridiculously flowing curly red hair (let a girl dream, mmm-k?) against a lavender gown with a ridiculously low-cut, lace-trimmed bodice swooning in the arms of a ridiculously tall Fabio-esque gentleman (only in this novel, Fabio sports a high-and-tight rather than his usual long golden locks). But let's get to the story, shall we?

Editor's note: this story may make Violet appear naive and, dare we say, stupid. This is not the case. Violet has an accepting heart and a non-judgmental mind and sometimes she trusts too easily *see below*. She generally sees the best in everyone and she recognizes that sometimes this leads to actions and outcomes that hurt her and/or that others don't understand. She doesn't care; she wouldn't change anything about her self (her body is a different story, but that's not relevant here).

Once upon a time, a girl who calls herself Violet was a member of the online dating community. At the recommendation of a friend, she joined a new (to her) dating site and was whiling away a cold winter evening by exploring the site’s nooks and crannies. Suddenly, someone said 'hi' via the site’s instant messaging. She almost didn’t respond when she noticed where he was from but since she was new there, and since she’s not afraid of trying new things (and since he lived closer to her than any of the other guys she had thus far “met” online), she said hi back. They chatted online for a while and then the fellow, a tall and good-looking guy we’ll call the Tall One, asked if he could call her. She said yes.

He called. They talked. They laughed. They batted much flirtatious banter back and forth. He asked her out on a date. In real life. In person. In 6 days! She said yes.

During the next 4 days, the Tall One called her at least once a day and really poured on the charm. Violet had never in her life experienced such attention and she reveled in it.

On Day 5, the Tall One called Violet during the day (on her cell phone. She may trust too easily *see below* but she is not a complete idiot). He apologized for calling her at work but explained that there was a family emergency and he didn't know if he would be in town the next day to keep their date. He said he didn't want to wait to meet her and asked if he could take her out that very night instead. Violet breathlessly said yes, hung up the phone, and announced to her office mates that "the date is TONIGHT!!!" They kindly (and wisely, as they knew her head would not be in her work) sent her home early to primp.

That evening, Violet allowed the Tall One to pick her up at her apartment. (*below* Violet is a savvy, quite intelligent girl but perhaps occasionally trusts too easily.) Boy, was he tall! And easy to be with – they went out for a casual dinner and talked and teased like longtime friends. She found the Tall One ever so attractive and there was definitely sexual tension in the air. He had a beer with dinner and another as they sat at the table enjoying each other's company. He asked her if the second beer was all right with her, which she thought was an odd question but figured maybe he was just being ultra-polite.

When they left the restaurant, he took her hand and didn’t let go. He drove her home and she let him come inside. There was kissing. He asked her out for a second date. She said yes.

The second date was similar to the first: he picked her up, took her out for dinner, they laughed, they joked, they flirted, they went back to her place and made out like a couple of high school kids in the band closet. The major difference between the two dates was that this time the Tall One brought a six-pack of beer with him. Violet thought that was odd, but since she’s not much of a drinker and doesn’t really spend any time around people who are, she thought perhaps this is how normal social drinkers do things.

During the next few days, the phone calls continued like before. Violet allowed herself to dream…to believe in the possibilities…to hope. And then the phone calls stopped.

But that’s not even close to the end of this story…