Archive for August, 2011

Bodhi goes cross country

Prepping to move Bodhi wasn’t much more difficult than taking him for an overnight visit somewhere (which is to say like packing up a pair of toddler twins for the weekend). Actually moving Bodhi was something else.

For starters, I had GREAT help with the packing and loading. I thought I was mostly done about 4 days before. But I wasn’t. Then I thought, ok, this looks pretty done two days before. But no. I got the truck on Friday night and drove it straight to my office (which I considered mostly done on Thursday) and my sweetie and I finished the job and loaded everything onto the truck (that sounds simple enough, but as you know, it just wasn’t).

Saturday morning I was all set with my ex, B and my son coming over to do the heavier lifting and some friends to help with the lighter things. Also, I made a deal with a friend of the ex-neighbor to exchange all my wood for his help lifting the treadmill and freezer.

My honey was there and my Rumi and one of the Ladies from Spades, all super helpful and very kind about the fact that there were still lots of bits and pieces scattered about. The Wood Guy showed up with some of his friends (to get the wood, not necessarily to help me) and they moved the treadmill and freezer all by themselves. Meanwhile, B set to work utilizing one of his special talents, spatial conceptualization. I swear, I have known two people in my life talented this way, and can I just take my hat off to them both? For me, it would have taken days to do what B did in just a few hours. Arranging and rearranging till everything fit well and wouldn’t slide around. Luckily I have plenty of stuff, so it wasn’t like there was much space in there… Yes, it’s true that there was a point at which I couldn’t stand to watch the process of spatializing (which consists of standing and staring at the objects to be rearranged) but that does not diminish my gratitude one bit.

My son, E, came through with shining colors too – lifting and passing things into the truck without a single complaint. He’s stronger than you might expect for a guy who spends most of his time exercising only his fingers (yup, he’s a gamer). He also just landed his first job the day before, so he was feeling pretty good about life that day.

My sweetie was patient and kind as I got frazzled and kept things moving along until she had to leave (convenient, no? Just kidding – it was an important engagement). My Rumi was awesome too, arriving and baking the best banana bread ever (with chocolate chips) first off. She knows me well, too, so was great about putting things together in ways that made sense to me (like boxing up the Kitchen Aid all in one box, bowl and all – sheer genius!). T from the Ladies from Spades was full of energy when mine was flagging and kept me going with her humor and general drive. It was neat to see how well E got along with this crowd of ladies! Rumi and T went out to get refreshments for the fire and totally came back also with frozen pizza for dinner.

Once we called it quits (yes, there were still things in the house but dude, you have to stop eventually), we got started on the bonfire. Well, Rumi started the bonfire. The rest of us did other important things, like carry out the chairs and alcohol. The fire was a perfect way to wind down and the weather cooperated, too. Not too hot, not too cold. The women gave E advice on work and romance and he listened graciously (you know, no teen eye-rolling or sighing). He sang for us, too, something none of us knew but it was lovely just the same. We had never been all together in a group before like that – I was the point of reference for everyone – so some of time was spent just getting to know everyone.

There was teasing and laughing and stories about ourselves, marshmallows and wine. Oh and vodka. And margaritas (everyone has their own preferences, right?). Rumi and I carefully did not discuss the actual move (like I said, everyone gets to have their own preference). For that matter, my honey and I didn’t discuss it much either. It was nice for me to see these people I care about connecting. Before the night was over, pretty much everyone got a nice F*ck you so I knew we were cool (sorry, you had to be there).

We talked, drank and laughed till the wind picked up and a few drops of rain began to fall. It was already close to midnight (city ordinances, ya know) so that was ok too.

Just writing this has exhausted me…I’ll catch up up on the next post…stay tuned…



Sleeping – baking – thinking – distance – torn – what?

Spending time with someone one a very different sleep/wake cycle is tough…but not for the most obvious reasons. In general, I think I usually get about the same amount of sleep I would normally get (me with my insomnia and all that).

The difference really shows up in what I am doing with the time I am awake. When I’m home alone, I can cook, clean, do laundry, work, watch TV and go for a run in a variety of combinations at pretty much any time. I like a nice midnight run (although I haven’t done many since I lost my 100 pound running partner). I get that second wind and can clean and bake and write papers like nobody’s business at 2 am. But when you are sharing that space with another person….well, all that changes. Especially if you’d rather be next to that person hanging out than doing any of those other things.

More than one friend of mine has been known to say that they prefer not living with their partner, that they appreciate their alone time and want to have their own space. I have one friend who is pretty adamant about it, saying that she thinks that is the only way to have a long term domestic partner…to live in separate places. I have most often been opposed to that idea myself. I like coming home to someone else, or getting home knowing that someone else is on their way. I like cooking and eating with another person. I enjoy talking and going over things with the person I love face to face.

In my current situation, things are radically upturned. Being a short-timer here means that lots of things I wouldn’t normally do I’ve done, not to mention the things I would have done that I haven’t. Knowing that I have such limited time, things are different and my own priorities are different. Which is great and has worked out well…except for the things that I’ve let slide by, like cleaning and laundry and work and such. It’s possible some of that stuff would be sliding by no matter my personal relationship status…but probably not like this.

And then there is the next part to consider. What about that? I’ve done the long distance relationship a time or two, and know a little bit about how it works from my side, anyway. I know which things I really really miss and which things I can kind of get around for a while. We were out Sunday and were talking to a couple that had a long distance relationship for 6 years before finally living together – and they have been together 25 years! That was nice to hear…and it got me to thinking.

I happen to be a talker/discusser/analyzer and this has been on my mind. First, I’m living closer to another human being than I have in a while for longer than I have in a while and then after Sunday, I won’t be. We’ll be far apart. Although I have no evidence that it will help, I feel a strong need to talk about it, to dissect it, to figure out what can be done about which parts.

Sitting here in my box-filled living room I am torn. I am thrilled to be setting out on my new adventure, and bummed about leaving – leaving this state, my house, my practice, my friends, my partner. Torn.

And scattered. No, really, I think I started here to talk about the way I’d like my home life to look…and I ended up here, feeling sad.

Ok, off to do some more packing.

Add this to your vocabulary

So, generally speaking I’m not too bitter about the LTR that ended a few years ago, but I have been heard to say that the two things I got from that relationship are my step son and a skill for popping popcorn. But that may not be completely fair. There were other gains, too. I’m sure of it. In fact, I just thought of one today.

First, you have to know I’m something of a grandma driver. I do the speed limit almost everywhere (yes, I did get a ticket last year but that’s another story), including the places the limit is 35 mph. I make full, 3-second stops at stop signs and never change lanes in an intersection. Lest you think I am some kind of saint, let me tell you that originally the reason I started driving so very carefully was because Detta was always riding in the back seat of my Blazer, and it just wasn’t safe to go fast!

ANYWAY, here I was, driving home, doing the speed limit, when roaring up behind me came one of those many white, suburbanite men driving a gigantic truck – one of those huge suckers with 4 tires in the back? He raced up so close I couldn’t see his headlights, then slipped by close enough that I thought he was going to hit me. He raced forward in time to stop at the next light, where I rolled lightly by him.

You know who I’m talking about, guys (and, I suppose, to be fair, there are women too) who drive enormous vehicles, trucks and hummers and suburbans, who think they own the road and that you are just an obstacle to get around. They race up to every stop light and change lanes with a frequency that seems ridiculous. I don’t see these guys as often as my ex did, but whenever I see them, my mind immediately goes to the term coined by B….macholeptics.

You know who I'm talking about

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