Hotness

I haven't blogged in a bit....and I know there has been much worrying and fretting and gnashing of teeth while you waited for the next one to come out....."Is she ok?" "Did she get over the guy?" "Did he accept her apology?"

The answers are "yes," "working on that" and "at this point who knows?" but....that's a blog for another day.

TODAY is to play catch up.

Things are happening, things are changing. Things are going well. Over the course of the past few months, I have moved back to Cabot (against my will and better judgment), the band has been wonderfully busy and I've had the blessing to be able to perform with Justin Moore twice now. For those who don't know his music, you should really check it out - he's fantastic, and a truly good guy. In other news, sweet angel Faith is growing like a weed and is easily the most beautiful, brilliant, darling child to have ever been born....work is going well, dating is...going.

OOH but my biggest news is that I am starting Invisalign in a week or so and ERMERGARD I could not be more excited.

I have hated my teeth pretty much since they came in. When I was in high school, I almost never smiled for pictures until I was a senior. By then I realized that they didn't look as crooked in pictures as they did in reality (and I didn't look as dumb trying to hide them), so I started smiling more. I learned to angle my face in such a way that the crookedness (hideousness, ghastliness, take your pick) isn't AS noticeable, but I have always known and I have always hated. BUT NOW....I am finally getting something done about it. I may be living on peanut butter visalus balls for the next year but BY GOD....the grill is getting hooked up.

I did lots of research, consulted with a couple of specialists, grilled my best friend - she of the perfect teeth (and naturally blonde hair - don't get me started on that). I also read lots of blogs written by people who have gone through the process, and while I found them fascinating, I do not think I will write one myself, mostly because my vanity prohibits me from displaying close-ups of my gnarly pie hole during the renovation process. BUT...I will happily post "after" pics. And if you happen to run into me at the gym or the grocery store and ask to see, I will share. Probably.

Speaking of the gym, that's the other new thing. As some of you know, I was hitting it hardcore last year for the first six months or so and then BOOM.....car accident. Break-up. Subsequent relationship-o-disaster. Stella lost her groove for a while there. I'm back now, though, and with a vengeance. I finally got pics back from last year's Warrior Dash and I realized two things. ONE - I want to do it again this year, and beat last year's time and TWO - even though I wasn't tiny, I remember how strong I was, and I want that back too. So it's back to Visalus, to the gym, and to kicking my own ass. I'm not posting those before pics either, although I have taken my them - bikini-clad- and let me just say, if you have small children you'd like to scare, I can lend them to you for a day.

I can say that because I'm doing something about it, you see.

2013. The year I get my hotness on. Settle in and keep an eye out, you do not want to miss this.

The New

New hair, new term, new place in a new town…

There is so much to catch up on.

When last we spoke, I just past celebrating my big four oh. I was settling into my role as G and my love life was…well, it was crazy but not CRAYZAY.   It was manageably crazy.

Somewhere over the past four months, it veered off into cuckoo land – almost entirely because of me – and I am still trying to right this ship, although the water is still choppy and I’m still feeling green.   The question is – how much to share?  I’ll try to summarize. Mostly because I am insistent that all this newness also being a springboard for a new START in life in general, and I need to finish writing this page so that I can turn it.

Back in July I was dating, mostly casually, and entirely with one purpose – to forget my last big relationship. Anyone who knows me knows that it ended badly, out of the blue, and left me reeling. I threw myself into the band, into dating, into football - fantasy and peewee, into work….into anything that forced me to focus my attention outward. And forward. Looking back was too confusing and way too painful. So I dated a couple of people and one weeded himself out. Our relationship wasn’t a happy one, it was convenient, and occasionally fun, and it met the requirements at the time.  Everything my ex was, this guy was not, and vice versa. There were no talks of the future, or romantic dinners, or day trips to special places.  His lack of attention made me furious enough that I forgot why I was furious at the other guy. His rude and abrasive tone was the opposite of the thing that had confused me so much before. It left nothing to the imagination. He would never love me.  He was possessive which was….strangely intoxicating…but it wasn’t from any sort of emotional attachment on his part.

But then, at some point, something changed. I began to care. I began to want him to soften up. And I took it as a personal affront when he did not. I wanted his walls to come down. I got tantalizing glimpses of the sweetness beneath the tough exterior but before I could focus, the iron curtain came crashing down. I tried different approaches. Tried too hard. Tried too little. Nothing mattered.  Every road led to the same destruction zone and believe me when I tell you that I tried them all, more than once.

I’ve always been….goal-oriented. I think I’ve talked about this before, how I have trouble sticking to a workout and diet plan without an end goal in mind. So when I set my sights on creating a relationship with this unemotionally unavailable and uninterested man and I was unsuccessful…

Y’all, I flipped out.

I don’t like not getting what I want. Well, who does?  But in this case, I became…desperate. Obsessed.  I embarrassed myself in front of him, in front of my friends, my family, and oh, the pièce de résistance– in front of that ex who broke my heart in the first place back in June. Because he and I have made our peace and are attempting something like friendship, and he got a front row seat to the crazy he passed up on several months ago. Oh yes. It’s been that glorious.

The final straw came last week. My final – INSANE,  INCOMPREHENSIBLE – email did not get the response I wanted.  I turned tail, and I ran, and I am doing my level best not to look back. But before I do, I need to apologize publicly.  Though things went sour in a big way, truth be told, he was never really dishonest with me that I know of. He tried to tell me that he wasn’t looking for the same things that I clearly was, and even still, he did give it some effort in the beginning. Whether or not it was my craziness that made him decide it wasn’t worth the effort or something else, I’ll never know, but I’m awfully good at reading imaginary things between the lines when I want to hear something so much and I became an expert these past months. He didn’t lie about his intent, and I made it bigger than it was ever supposed to be. This is my bad.

Moving forward, my hopes are these. One – that I am not the only person who has pursued an obviously unhealthy relationship with someone who clearly – CLEARLY – does not want me back, for reasons I can’t begin to explain or understand. Two – that I have learned enough from the past two insane relationships that the next one – which I am in no rush to start – can be healthy, although I still think I am clueless how to do that.  Because that will mean that neither relationship was time wasted, and as these years continue to fly by, wasted time is one thing I can ill spare.  

But I’m in a new town, I’ve got a new ‘do, and as of this week, I am working on a new body. I’m back on the Vi Challenge…I don’t want to hawk it, but I can’t deny that it works.  I’d like to say I’ll get back to this blog regularly, and maybe I will. One thing is certain. No one can ever say I do anything half-assed. If I can apply that same kind of zealotry to my new workout plan, I will be running a marathon inside of a year. And isn’t that a healthier focus anyway?

Onward…  

On Turning 40

When I thought about what my life might look like at forty, I imagined many things. A loving and dedicated partner. A daughter headed off to college. A fat bank account. A framed degree on my wall. A surgically enhanced, improved figure.

I have none of those things.

Instead though, what this last decade, and especially the past two years, have brought are unexpected blessings.

True, abiding friendships.

A job I really enjoy.

An opportunity to sing to my heart’s content – and to have people applaud.

A spirituality not tied to or influenced by any church or it’s dogma.

Parents who are still alive and actively involved in my life…in my kids lives.

Not a perfect body, but a healthier one. A more fit one.

And certainly, the most beautiful grandchild who has ever been born. To anyone. In the history of time.

No, I still have not fallen in love with a man, but I have fallen in love with one very sweet four-week-old. It is as breathtaking as “new mom love” was, and completely different. Obviously her being here now wasn’t part of the plan I’d envisioned for my daughter but…somehow it’s just right. I wouldn’t change a thing about any of it. OK, untrue. If I could change one thing, I’d make spoiling her rotten my full-time job. I’m tempted to even change this entire blog to the “Faith Abygail Adoration Page” because I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s about to become just that.

Anyhow, my 40th birthday was celebrated with sushi and wine with good friends – those true friends I mentioned earlier – and a few transient ones who taught me lessons. I still wasn’t sure which kind of wine to order, but I have learned to just go with what I like. People are less judgmental about that sort of thing than I’d realized. There was also a crème brulee at Lulav that made me purr. As far as the day itself, it was made special by special people, and I wouldn’t change a thing about that day either.

What I really haven’t done up until now is to ponder…to think about what I’ve learned in 40 years. I’m still much the same person I was at 20, and at 30. There have been additions and subtractions in the personnel but I still have the same ideals I’ve always had. Injustice is just as sickening to me as it was then, more so now because I’ve been subjected to it personally. Forever the underdog’s champion, I take up any cause when there is the need for someone to step up. Civil rights, bullying, inequality, you name it. I have always believed that not only should you live and let live, you should make damn sure that your kids are doing the same. You don’t have to share the ideals of your neighbor but neither should you shit on their steps. I’ve learned that no amount of squawking is going to change closed minds. No amount of screaming will make me heard by the people who need most to hear me. Somehow it hasn’t quieted me. It’s just made me back up the words with actions. Some known to others, some only known by me. But I sleep just fine at night knowing that everything I fight for and believe in feels good and just and right to me.

As far as love…honestly, I don’t know that I’ve learned much. Sometimes I think I have high standards, and that’s what keeps me from settling. Other times I worry that I use that invisible checklist of qualities I seek as a barrier. It’s much harder to hurt me from behind a steel wall. The one time in the past decade I thought I was truly in love…I wasn’t. Or maybe I was. But he wasn’t and in the end, that’s all that really matters. I’ve learned that I’m really ok just being alone, but that it’s nice when someone other than the kids cares if I make it home at night.

I’ve learned that words are just words, and actions are words, and that a lack of either says more than anything.

 Mostly what I’ve learned is that life is short. Too short to be anything other than happy, and way too short to spend a moment letting the opinions, lifestyle choices, and bad decisions of others change how I feel about myself. I still think I’m kind of awesome. And even better than that is not caring who agrees with me.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have over 100 photographs to edit and share with the world. They are of the most exquisite beauty I’ve ever seen.

She calls me G.

Resolutions kept, and not.

Well, I have failed with at least one New Year's resolution but have stuck with a couple of others.


My resolution to blog every day…obviously…has not been made good. I blamed it on technical difficulties at first (when my laptop cord shorted out) but the bigger reason turned out to be the fact that I didn’t (and don’t) want to share my every personal detail. I have friends who do this and I wish I were that brave. I used to be.

In any case, a number of transitions since my last entry.

Friendships have been – blessedly – restored. Relationships started for the wrong reasons, ended for the right ones. And hope, as it turns out, does spring eternal.

Hell naw – you are not getting the details because I’m way too scared that to even say or type the words out loud will make them not true. You will just have to trust and accept that when I say things are good. Some things are very, very good. So far. Fingers, toes, and any other crossable parts crossed.

Which isn’t to say that there have not been casualties, because there have been. On the surface, to one and to many, it probably seems that I am not aware of this or that I am not taking responsibility for my part in it, but I am. I just have a one-track mind it seems, and am unwilling to sacrifice what could be the greatest thing for me for something that would be less than that. I wish I felt worse about that, but I just don’t. Not because I don’t care, but because I know, in the deepest part of me, that I would be doing a disservice in the end to the people who believe they would have been made whole by a different outcome. They would not have been. They deserve more. Even if they can’t see that now.


Ok, I’m done talking in riddles.


One resolution I have kept is the diet/exercise regimen. While I have not dropped the weight I’d hoped to (damn scale), I have dropped a couple of sizes, but what’s even cooler than that is that I’m ….harder. Tougher. Stronger. And that stuff they say about exercise being a natural mood enhancer is not bunk. It’s still slow going, but I am definitely sticking with it and feeling pretty damned proud of myself for that. I schlep to the gym in the rain, in the cold, and when it’s beautiful outside I make an hour wance sesh my daily workout. How much do you love me for saying "wance sesh?"

I’m also lifting about twice as much weight as I started out with. In short, I feel like a badass.




After much consideration and deliberation, I have decided that my daughter’s daughter will call me, simply, “G” – although I toyed with some other non-traditional names (LaLa, GiGi, G-Dawg)(The latter being what Brendan will call me until I draw my last breath, so taken was he with that name.) My daughter is planning to name her Faith Abygail, in keeping with our initials (Fawn Amber, Farren Abriana).


I for one cannot wait to meet her.


The boys are accepting, if not excited. Jillian is positively giddy at the thought of being an aunt – and to a girl! It’s as if the heavens have opened up and smiled directly upon her.


I’m feeling a lot like that lately myself, kiddo.


There is a trip to Florida planned for my birthday in July ( to celebrate turning “that age of which we will not speak “) with some lovely friends who will also be celebrating birthdays. Thanks to the hard work so far, and the hard work left to go, I am actually excited to be wearing a bikini this year. G or no G, I’m rocking it. Well…excited may be an overstatement. But I’m not dreading it, and that is progress.

There is also a trip to New Orleans/Mississippi planned in May...the details of which I will not share but I will say that...holy crap, I'm excited.

G-Dawg OUT!

Perception and Reality

I've been writing this post in my head for a few weeks.

I kept thinking, as I turned it around and around, that I would have some giant breakthrough and that touted "A-Ha!" moment that I've heard about.

I have actually had several of those, and I never stop being surprised at the constantly changing life I live.

Originally I was going to talk about the way that, when you step back from a situation - really step back - that you are then able to see things for what they actually are, instead of the colored versions that your heart and logic and experience and passions present up close. The way that something that you've believed to be true in the deepest, darkest part of your heart is something very different once it's stripped down and naked.

Maybe someone you loved isn't at all the person you believed them to be. Maybe someone you thought you were over has crept their way back into your thoughts. Maybe something you did that made sense at the time seems ridiculous in retrospect. Or someone you count as a friend, or a leader, is someone from whom you can learn a wholly different, and unwelcome, set of skills.

What I am finding, though, is that we have a way of manifesting a truth for ourselves that makes it so much easier to justify our actions and decisions. And the more reality rears its ugly head, the more adept we become and changing not only our perceptions, but absolute and total faith in something that suits our needs until our life is nothing but a carefully orchestrated facade. How many people know the real me? How many people really know you?

All of the above things have happened to me in recent weeks. People I thought I knew well, I do not know at all. It is alarming, the contrast between my perception and their reality.

Something I did that seemed perfectly logical - now - is an embarassment. (And no, I am not talking about my tattoo. I still love it.)


Someone I hadn't thought of in weeks...months...is now a fixation.


Someone I thought I loved was not the person I thought he was at all.




Sometimes these skewed perceptions are necessary. They help us cope. They help us forgive ourselves, and others. But they are no longer harmless when they negatively affect how we treat the people around us. We forget those who really love us because we are fixated on the one we can't have...simply because we cannot have them. We fail to see our blessings because we focus on desires that aren't met. On some level, we even realize this. We then feel self-pity, self-loathing, and that translates into self-destruction that in the end hurts the very people we don't see.

I wanted to have a conclusion to this that would change people. Make them stop and think about their actions, their beliefs, their silly made-up realities. I don't think I've gotten there yet. What I do have is an understanding that I have been just as guilty as the people I have shaken my head at in frustration.

The only thing left to do, then, is to try to see things as they actually are, no matter how heinous the effect, in the hope that I will not miss the things that I've been missing in my delusional little life.

It is unfortunate that it's taken me 39 years to get to this point. And I'm not even sure I'm where I need to be. But for now at least, I can see the ugly truth.

And what surrounds it is beautiful. It's real, and it's mine. It's me.

A Budding Sommelier

I have another resolution to add to the list.

I want to learn more about wine.

I rarely drank before the age of 28. My first husband claimed to be a recovering alcoholic (and also someone with moral values) so we just didn't drink. At all. Ever.

Once the marriage ended, I did the expected thing and became a club goer. My girlfriends at the time were beer drinkers but I hadn't yet developed a taste for the stuff, so I started to experiment with drinking wine.

The only kinds I liked were sweet. White Zinfandel was my go-to. I also felt sophisticated when ordering it, and rather adored the image I believed I projected whilst carrying a wine glass around the club. I probably even adopted a little Thurston Howell accent. That would be vintage Fawn.

I have never been one to drink at home. I don't usually keep alcohol in the house at all. To wit - I bought a 12-pack of Bud Light for my football draft in August and finally used the last can in a French Dip crock pot roast about two weeks ago. So yeah, not much of a drinker. I have trained myself to enjoy beer occasionally, mostly because it's everywhere and, let's face it, guys dig a chick who will drink a cold one and watch a ball game. Also? Cheaper. WINNING!

Occasionally though, usually in a fancier setting, I will want to have a glass of wine, and I am clueless about what to order. In the liquor store, I am overwhelmed by the selection. I recently purchased a bottle for a friend's birthday and ended up having the cashier select it for me. Luckily, it was a hit, but I can't take any credit.

I'd like to remedy that. I'd like to order with confidence.



"Yes, I'll have the 1983 Blooo dee blah"

"A fine selection, madam."

On my own, I have branched out to other safe options - Pinot Grigio, Moscato, occasionally a Pinot Noir. I'm not sure what the best way is to learn...but I'm certainly willing to investigate. I'm even willing to bet I could find a friend or two willing to learn with me and, if I'm lucky, a knowledgeable friend who will point me in the right direction.

So tell me...what's your poison?

This ain't Patrick Swayze...

OR IS IT??




How YOU doin', ghost of Patrick Swayze?

Man, I need to go on a date.

I think I have a ghost, you guys.

Or maybe ghosts, plural.

Some history...

My mom has always been a bit of a...free thinker when it comes to the paranormal. When we were growing up, we would sometimes play "the psychic game." She would take 6 cards and on each one she would draw a symbol: a star, a circle, three wavy lines...you get the idea.
Then she would look at one card and try to project to us what she'd seen. We took turns saying out loud what had popped into our heads. OR sometimes, to mix it up, the person looking at the card would ONLY PROJECT TO THE PERSON NEXT TO THEM...and they'd project to the next person...and so on.

I wish I were kidding. I am not.

Mom believes in reincarnation...and in ghosts. Stop by her house any given Saturday night and I'll bet you dollars to donuts that she's watching Celebrity Ghost Stories...or A Haunting in Connecticut...or something in that vein.

So naturally, I tend to pooh all of that as baloney, the way most girls do when it comes to stuff their mom believes.

That said, I've had some...strange occurences throughout my life.

When I was around 2 and a half, as God above is my witness, I saw a cardboard cutout ape coming down the hall growling at me. I know how old I was because my sister Heather was in the crib next to me. I buried my face into my pillow and screamed until my mother came to get me. "It was just a nightmare," she said.

THIS WAS NO DREAM. 37ish years later, I can still describe exactly how it looked and sounded. I know what I saw.

When Farren was a baby, her father worked nights and came home very early in the morning. Usually she would sleep with me, and when he came in he would put her in her crib and then crash. One morning, just as the sun was coming up, I heard whispering...it sounded like dozens of voices, and they were all saying, "Go check on Farren..." over and over again. I went to her crib and she was sound asleep, but her dad had forgotten to put the rail up. If she'd woken up, I have no doubt she would have fallen out. She was just starting to pull up onto things.

Creepy, no?

When I was last married, I was about to doze off and I was facing the wall next to the window. I saw a black shadowy...thing...slither down the wall and behind my dresser. I woke up husband up and made him turn on the lights to investigate, so sure was I that I'd seen something but of course, nothing was there.

I should probably dig into what that one might be, but...you know what? I don't think I want to know.

So yeah. Last night I was in bed. It was around midnight. My door was cracked. I heard the kids in the hallway outside my door. I heard them whispering and I heard a giggle. I heard footsteps moving towards the kitchen. I called out asking who was up. I got up and went to the kitchen and...nothing. I went to the kids room and they were sound asleep.

I went back to bed and laid there about half an hour and it happened again. I went more quickly to the kids room to see if they were playing a trick on me and...

...they weren't. They were in the same position.

You guys. It was not my kids. So who was it?

It is 11:30 p.m. and I am about to try to get some sleep. If I should be found dead or possessed or something by morning (Our Father, who art in heaven...) then this will serve as the Blair Witch of Blogs.

Feel free to share your ghost stories.



It's not like I'm going to be sleeping tonight anyway.