New car day

TODAY is new car day.

We have to go pick it up after work. Everyone is excited.

I am so proud of B. He's worked hard and paid off all the credit cards, and his credit score is above 800. GO, B!!!

Miracle

Too much to post.

New car shopping, a promotion at work for me, nasty ex struggles, a visit to the attorney... new teen driver, registration for high school for the youngest, doctors' visits...

A little bit of the blues for me, and then this, like thunderbolt and lightning, out of the blue:

B asked me to marry him.

After all the crap is over with, and he is free and clear. And we can't tell anyone anything, because they wouldn't understand, but.... this. This miracle.

wow.

Yes

I watched his wildest dreams come true
Not one of them involving you

Real-life fairy tale

TODAY I had to stop at Hallmark to pick up a card for a coworker. I was almost out the door when I saw it: the wooden sign, sitting atop a display. I had to turn around, and even though it was expensive, I had to buy it.

"Once in a while, right in the middle of an
ordinary life,

Love gives you a fairy tale"

I have to confess to the world: I am living my fairy tale. I can't tell you how incredible it is. This journal is wonderful, and it captures so many things, but I could write for hours and never begin to touch how magical it is to have found this, so late but so sweet, this place that I never want to leave. Just to wake in the morning listening to your best friend breathe in the same space as you... to feel the warmth of his body in the sheets, is heartstopping.

Yes, we're having challenges. Yes, we disagree. Yes, we've even fought. But beneath it all runs an underground river of love... of faith, of trust, of unity. And even when I'm frustrated with him, and I want to go in the other room, down the road, onto another planet, just to have a few moments away, my soul still craves him and I can't stay angry. I can't explain the feeling that I have. It's as if there is a small serene voice inside of me that says "This is the end. This is where I wanted you to be." It's a feeling of arrival. There is no better way to explain it.

We were awake in the wee hours of the night Saturday morning. I was leery of staying awake, knowing that I had a three hour drive ahead of me just a few hours away, but the conversation was too sweet to waste. I can't even remember what we were talking about, but the topic turned round to how sad I felt that day because I had read on the PD bulletin board that one of the long time members' wives had finally died. She had been very old, very sick and at end stage (as well as other complications) for a long time. We are always so careful not to talk about this thing, this elephant in the room with us, but he could feel that something was bothering me. It was finally time for honesty, and as we laid there wrapped in each other's arms, I said "I live with that fear. It's a constant thread in my mind.... that there will never be enough time."

Blind eyed in the darkness, skin to skin, breathing each other's breaths, he moaned "Oh, M.." and pulled me to him tighter. "....I know I'm going to leave you a widow" he whispered, letting the words fall into the night air around us. I could say nothing. What is there to say? There is no denial. No platitude. No Pollyanna optimism. It is what it is. We can only cling to time, as much as we are allowed, and this love that is so immense, carrying us on its great currents through whatever life throws at us.

"I love you" I said, after a long time. "I will always be here.."

And we drifted back to sleep again.

There is so much more to say about this weekend and its events, but it all comes down to this: this is our fairy tale. This is our story... the story of two bruised and broken people, who finally found the love that we never knew existed.

I told B about this blog. That I wasn't ever a big journal-keeper, but that I wanted to write it all down: the good, the bad, the ugly, the funny. To have it in a place where we could come back and read it in a year's time, in ten year's time, so that we could look back and say "See all these things we've been through? See how far we've come?" I want to write the story from the beginning, and tell it all the way to the end.

The sign I bought at Hallmark is going in our living room, where we can see it every day, a reminder of what is real.

This is our fairy tale.

Sweet Pea

April 13: Four Months

Five minutes....

I HAVE five minutes to blog. Here goes...

B got his hair cut. It was long, lush and wavy. But getting too long, even I had to agree. He went in yesterday evening and had it cut before he came home. He walked in, a new man. It's very short now, the silvery tips mostly gone. Now it's gunmetal, short, and uber-masculine. Gone are the boyish curls that softened his face. This morning I caught him after he'd shaved, walking through the room with his shirt off, and had to stop short and catch my breath. His still-firm and beautiful body combined with that hair makes him look very powerful and very masculine. Wow.

We agreed to pick the kids up at noon on Sunday. Here's to our last day (and couple of nights) of peace. We must make the most of them.

I am so in love with my partner. Sometimes it shatters me.

Work was very busy today, and very productive. Looks like B and I will have to work together on my utility project, as he's the only one who knows how to do what he does with the mapping system. Go, B!

He'll be here to pick me up in a jif so we can go home. One more minute...


And we're off.

New beginnings

UGH. Thursday already. Three more days of peace and then we have to go pick the kids up. Would be nice to say we spent it leisurely, but.... things need a'fixin, and that's the way it goes.

Today I have to go on a business trip with a colleague, so we're at it early this morning, up before the dawn. I have only a couple of minutes here before B will be done shaving and ready for me in the shower.

I've been thinking how beautiful it is... this love. He's been introducing me to his large family a piece at a time, and when he does, he says "This is the love of my life". How incredible is that?

On another note, I bought us tickets to see Leon Redbone next week. Should be fun... a chance to get out of the house, dress semi-nice, and be escorted by a handsome man. How can you beat that? I went to get reserved tickets , and the lady that sold them to me asked me where I wanted to sit. The ones she had were to the backside of the reserved section (since I was so late in buying them) and mostly in the outside middle. I thought hard about having to climb over people to get in and out of rows, and finally picked the only pair she had that was on an outside aisle. Not the best place to see the stage, but I wanted to make sure that if B needed to get up and move around he could do so easily. He thinks of so many little things for me. I try hard to make sure I think ahead.

I was awake early this morning, and laid there listening to him sleep. He rolled over and pulled me close, my face in that soft curve of his shoulder, and it was blissful.

____________________________________________

I had a dream again on Monday night.

I am getting fat. I put my hands down on my lower belly, and something is moving in there. I go in to the doctor, and he says "You're pregnant". I say "That can't be... I don't have a uterus." He shows me the picture, and there it is: a little ball, about the size of my fist. I lay my hands on it, feeling it turn over and over, awash in wonder. It is true.

I looked up the meaning when I got to work. I like it. The birth of a new life...

Pregnant
To dream that you are pregnant, symbolizes an aspect of yourself or some aspect of your personal life that is growing and developing. You may not be ready to talk about it or act on it. This may also represent the birth of a new idea, direction, project or life.

Bad blogger...

I am a bad blogger. I've missed five days now. All I can plead is peace and quiet.

The kids are gone to their sister's for the week, leaving B and I home alone to enjoy each other's company (and to dream of what it will be like when the kids fly the nest). It's been bliss, for the most part.

One little misstep was in taking Monday off. We decided to make it a long weekend, so that we could enjoy the time, and in theory, it should have been wonderful. What ended up happening was explosive, albeit productive.

We were halfway in the middle of a home improvement project over the weekend, taking a broken door out of the kitchen and replacing it with a new door. We had spent Sunday wandering blissfully through Home Depot, seeking parts and pieces. We even made some really good progress in our relationship. B was getting spun off into spirals of possibilities in the middle of the second hour of the shopping trip. (In order to fix the door, we had to fix the frame. In order to fix the frame, we had to replace the casing. In order to replace the casing, we had to finish the floor trim. In order to finish the floor trim.... etc.) Finally we sat down right there in the middle of the door display and put our heads together, decided what to do, and got up and did it. B has a tendency to spin out on hard decisions, and I have a tendency to bite back my opinions, so for us to powwow there in Home Depot was a major step for us, and we left there feeling happy and much more connected as a couple.

The door went in beautifully, thanks to B's careful craftsmanship. We finished most of it on Sunday, and left the trim for Monday. We got up Monday feeling good, having slept in for a little and snuggled for an hour, and then went out for our morning cup of coffee. And before we knew it, before we'd been able to turn our cell phones off like we'd promised each other we would, preserving the sanctity of our day off together, his phone rang. He looked down at it and my heart sunk. His ex. At 8:30 in the morning. He went off to the garage to talk to her, shutting the door between us.

I tried to pretend that it didn't bother me, but we'd just had this conversation last week, how all my calls from my ex were either not answered or taken out in the open, and that it upset me that he wouldn't disconnect from her. I tried to shake it off, but it left me feeling blue. I took the CD I'd been listening to out in the living room and decided to occupy myself with sketching instead, hoping the Christian music would give me some peace. I had a sudden need to talk to God... to ask for peace and patience.

I heard him when he came in but didn't get up. He came out to find out what I was doing, and when he told me why she'd called, I couldn't help myself. All the anger I'd been stuffing for months now boiled out. I won't go into details about what it was all about, but suffice to say that what she was calling for was above and beyond the call of duty.

If I've called our arguments 'fights' before, I was in error. This one was definitely the worst. I finally told him how I felt. I asked him why he would even CONSIDER doing what she asked. I could see that he was angry, too. He said "She's still my wife, M." And that was when I left the garage. He's said that before, and it's not stopped hurting me. I went into the house and took out my frustration on cleaning the toilets, but it still didn't help. I had an overwhelming urge to just get out of there. I gathered up my purse and some books to return to the library, and went out to find him loading garbage in the truck. He was doing the same thing: getting the dump stuff ready so he could run away, too.

I saw then that we needed to finish it. We went back and forth for a few moments, and something strange happened. I told him how much that statement had hurt me. He let me talk. He didn't interrupt. He didn't yell. My voice had been raised in the beginning, but as he listened, it fell. I felt heard. I felt validated. And when I finished saying what I had to say, I felt empty. He sat silently for a long time, so long that I felt pain at having hurt him with my words, even if they'd been true. I tried to go to him, to make physical contact, but he told me no. He wasn't ready. I went back inside, and at length he followed. And we hugged, albeit stiffly. And then we talked. And talked. And talked. And came to some understanding of each other's deepest fears, and how hard it was to break the cycles of relating that had come before, the dysfunctional habits, even within the circle of this blessed love. He said he'd never thought of how I'd hear what he'd said... and that it hurt him that he'd hurt me.

I asked him the hard question this time: I asked him to make the choice between the old life, and our life. He did it for me, a couple of months ago when I was going through some rough spots with the ex intruding into our lives, and the fear that there was a possibility of losing B was the impetus I needed to make the break. I told him how much I appreciated him saying the hard thing.. because it was what I needed to change.

We went back to working on the door that day as if nothing had happened, and it was good. I anticipated the night, knowing that there would be the sweet solace of his arms in the night to take away the lingering taste of strife between us, but it never came. This time we'd caused some pain. In the morning I told him how odd it was to learn his 'fighting style', and how different it was than what I'd ever known before. We talked about how proud we were that we'd come back, rather than running from the conflict, as we instinctively wanted to do. And I told him that I was sad that we'd not made up.... that I'd craved being close to him that night, and was sorry that I'd hurt him.

When we went off to work yesterday, we were as refreshed as newlyweds, the storm passed and the scarred landscape washed clean. I called to make him an appointment with the attorney, and he was grateful, because he didn't have the emotional strength to do it. Last night, he took me out to dinner, at the nicest place in town. He was resplendent in his Dockers and a nice shirt and the jaunty felt hat that he wears so well. He offered me his arm, and told me that I was the love of his life, and that he didn't want to lose me. We sat over drinks and talked, and when dinner came, as beautiful as it was, we let it get cold while we held hands and looked in each other's eyes, reaffirming our life... reaffirming our love... holding fast to the important things. He told me about some of the painful things he had been through, like the loss of his parents, putting more tiles in the magnificent mosaic of his life. The picture is getting fleshed out, slowly but surely, the scenes becoming clearer and clearer.

This man is where I want to be for the rest of my life. I want nothing more than this. You can keep fame, and fortune, and recognition. Somewhere, God heard my prayers, and brought me B.

H-E-double hockey sticks

ALRIGHT. There's nothing like topping off a pretty decent day like involving your poor innocent significant other in a moment of sheer vehicular brainlessness.

I went to pull into the little off-the-beaten-path driveway of the fast food restaurant that we were going to lunch at, and miscalculated where the pull in was. I ended up taking the wrong one, and found myself on the sidewalk, before I knew it. There was no turning back; traffic was behind me and I was committed. I heard B sputtering beside me, and then laughing incredulously, but there was nothing more to do but utter "Ah shit!"

There were a few moments in there that I thought he was going to fall over laughing.

I am so embarrassed. What a week.

This wouldn't have happened if I'd remembered lunchmeat at the store last night.

You'd better believe lunchmeat is on my list.
_____________________________________________

THE kids are off to their sister's in Oregon tomorrow. She's leaving Bend at 5, and should be here sometime around 10ish. They will be gone for a week. Spring Break - who says it's just for kids? lol

The daughter took her written drivers' exam yesterday afternoon and got a 92. Tomorrow she takes her driving exam. I'm not sure I'm ready for all this. She thinks she's just going to take my keys right away from me. Yeah, right!

I let her drive last night on our run to Safeway for beer and sugar (cause coffee in the morning without sugar is truly only for heathens). While we were gone, B had a good conversation with the boy. Evidently, while I was gone with the girl to the Licensing Dept, the boys had way too much fun out in the garage after school. They had taken a box of Girl Scout cookies and thrown them all around the garage, trying to be funny. It IS sort of funny... there are Thin Mint bits everywhere you look. The weiner dog had a blast out there last night on a treasure hunt, sniffing out all the crumbs. (Hansel and Gretel would have died in the woods with this dog around)

B was really upset when I got home the first time and he was telling me about it. I know that the garage is really his sanctuary, and it was like the boys had come in and desecrated things, rummaging around, making a mess, and generally being poops. The last straw was when he caught them drinking out of the milk jug. I promised to talk to the boy, set things straight, but I could feel that B was still upset.

When I got home from the store on the second trip, the house was pretty quiet. I went out to talk to B before we went to bed, and he said that he'd talked to the boy. He told him that he wanted to respect the boy, and do fun things with him like go fishing, but that he was making it hard. He told him that he respected the boy's stuff, and he expected the boy to respect ours. And then he told him that when he moved in here, he knew that it would be hard for us all to assimilate, but that he believed that if you love the woman, you love her kids, and he hoped that the boy understood that. That he was as mad as he was going to get, but that he still loved him. And then he shook the boys hand, and told him that he wasn't out to bully him, or fight with him, but if he received respect from the boy that he would receive respect in return.

He said that the boy actually made eye contact with him, and listened without interrupting or arguing. This is a big change for this kid. Things had been getting pretty bad for us all over the past year prior to the divorce. I really believe that if I'd stuck it out, that the ex and the boy would have come to blows. The ex never understood respect. He wanted obedience, unquestioningly. He would get up in the boy's face and spit and yell... the whole Napoleon complex thing. It was like a war zone, all the time.

After I talked to B, I went to get the kids ready for bed. The boy followed me around the house, and actually gave me a hug and kiss. He was hungry for comfort. I think that having B's respect is a very big thing for him. It made my heart swell. I think B and his consistent, solid, quiet style is going to be very good for my son. To give him back some respect, some self respect, and the tools he needs to become a good man.

I told B this morning how impressed I was with the night's events, and that I thought it had been good for all of us for it to have come to a head somewhat. I told him that I believed that boys needed guidance to become good men, and that finally, here, my son could see what one looked like.

My B. God bless him.

I think we're going to be okay.

Pink Floyd redux

BEARS have become our inside joke. :-) It's good to have something to laugh about.

Last night was good. The daughter came home on time, B and I had a good time, and it was relaxed and fun. For awhile, the kids were all out and about, and we had a few moments to ourselves before dinner. We spent it in the kitchen, clinging, as we do. (and as I type these words, my mind flashes back to Sunday, and a few precious moments spent in the garage, swaying on the concrete floor to some sweet soft Linda Ronstadt, my body pressed against his as he slow danced me. Drowning in the scent and the feel of him, caught up in those beautiful blue eyes.)

The daughter and I went to Wal Mart, and treated ourselves to Starbucks on the way. It was a good night. When we got home, B and I made dinner. He is indeed the master of the grill. While I was gone, he put the laminate on the drafting table he's been restoring for me, and it looks wonderful. And as we melted together in the kitchen, he gave me his mischievous little smile and pushed me backwards into the dining room to show me that he'd put the trim medallions on the floor trim. They looked spectacular. Thinking of the house he built for his first wife, the one she disparaged as 'cheap and shoddy', I took his face between my hands and told him "I wonder if she knows how lucky she was?" How precious must it have been to have this man build a house, designing it in his head and on paper, thinking of my convenience and comfort.

Everything about B is about giving. It's hard to grasp sometimes. He takes so little for himself.

We went to bed around 8:30, doing the nightly routine back in the bedroom, when I stopped him, listening. There was a distinctive sound coming from my son's room. "It's Pink Floyd" B said.

I cocked my head, listening to the music. "No... it's a remake." I said. "Listen to the heavier parts..." And sure enough, it was a remake, done by one of the bands my son listens to.

B's eyes sparkled, and off he went. He was back in a few moments, leading me by the hand out to the computer. "Listen..." He said, grinning. "Early stuff... before Dark Side of the Moon."

We shared a few moments there, listening to the album while my daughter came and went, sharing some conversation between us all, laughing and joking and just being mellow, before we finally went off to bed.

_______________________________________________

WE woke this morning at 2 a.m. The dogs were restless, and I couldn't go back to sleep. I rolled over and felt that electric spark from him. We cuddled for a while, and I ran my hands across all of his beloved curves, before we fell deep into a rhythm, kissing slow like breathing. And all was right in the world.

Epiphany, and a trilogy of bears

AND so it is: we have come to an epiphany.

Yesterday, in our usual mad dash for the door in the morning rush, I brushed up against the doorframe to the bedroom and caught the sleeve of my sweater on an outcropped nail. I cried out in frustration, then called out to B. "Is there a hammer out there still?" And being B, he was there in a jif, bearing the hammer and correcting the offending nail. We went on about our day with nary a word more about it.

Later that evening, after a particularly frustrating day with the daughter, we were out in the garage... the 'inner sanctum'... where B goes to think and smoke and listen to NPR. I must confess, I come to the garage for comfort, for the sanctuary of his smile and his sanity. I was direly in need of it last night. Over her 16 years of practice, the daughter has cultivated the fine art of mental manipulation, learning from my ex, the master. She now knows how to keep me off balance whenever it suits her, to keep her out of trouble. "Am I insane?" I pleaded to B. "The ex would say I was."

This angered him. I saw it right away, his blue eyes flashing dangerously.

I plunged on, thinking to absolve myself. I had been stewing about the morning's events, feeling bad about how I'd hollered out for him to save me from the nail, without even thinking that he might have been in the middle of something of his own. Without even trying to fix it myself. I had called for him, and phrased it in a way that had always been labeled "manipulation" by the ex. I tried to explain this to him, that I was sorry if I'd made him feel manipulated, that I'd only been asking if the hammer was handy, but it seemed that my explanations only made things worse. He was incensed by what I was saying, and I was somewhat confused.

And finally I got what he was trying to tell me. He hadn't felt manipulated, because he wasn't like all those other men who had come before him. He was offended, in fact, that I would think he would be. He tried to explain to me that his love for me came with no strings... that he was truly my partner, and that that's what partners do. Including riding to the rescue with a hammer when need be.

I told him (and I think he finally understood) that it would probably be a while before these things would quit happening. That I had no idea what normal WAS, because I'd never known normal. And that if he was patient, I could learn. But until then, I will probably keep questioning reality... because I truly don't know if what *I* think is normal, is.

He said that the way he can see it, he has been the only man who has loved me unconditionally since I was a little girl... since my Grandpa, who believed with all his heart that I could do no wrong. Even when everyone else ceased to love me, there was always him. And it brought tears to my eyes. I felt driven straight to my knees. Because it's true. It's why I have such a sense of deja vu... why it has been so easy with B. "You remind me so much of him" I whispered.

And so there it is. It's not a daddy complex. My daddy never loved me, never wanted me around. And God knows I wasn't perfect enough for my mother. But B, beautiful, beloved B, stands there before me, with all of the honor, the love, the wisdom, the acceptance, of my Grandpa, lost to me these many years. And I have the chance to do it all over again; to honor this man and the man that came before him, in the manner they deserve.

_______________________________________________________

Last night I woke in the middle of the night, roused by B getting up, or perhaps from the dream. I cried out, and his hands were there. "What is it?" he whispered.

"Bears..." I moaned, rolling deep into that warm embrace, pressing my face to his soft shoulder.

In the dream I am in a clearing by a house, with my little dog. We are standing, when suddenly I become aware that it isn't safe here. I look to my left, and there is a bear coming out of the bushes. I freeze, hoping that he hasn't seen us, but my little dog begins barking, and the bear comes towards us. I look to the right, to escape, but there is another one, coming for us as well. I decide to go up, into the trees behind us, but there is another bear, directly overhead. I stand still, in dread, dismay and acceptance, knowing that there is no escape from my fate.

And suddenly there are hands on me, pulling me back.

"It's okay, M. I will make those old bears go away." And I am deep in the safety of those arms, and it is well, and it is good.
_____________________________________________________

Bear
To dream that you are being pursued or attacked by a bear, denotes aggression, overwhelming obstacles and competition. You may find yourself in a threatening situation. Alternatively, bears symbolize the cycle of life and death and renewal. It may signal of period of introspection and thinking. The dream may also be a pun on "bare". Perhaps you need to bare your soul and let everything out into the open.