Before I was me...

The Guff ~ Hall of Souls

Most of the 80's teens will recall a film called, "The Seventh Sign." It was an apocalyptic movie centered around the Book of Revelations.  Basically the world was coming to an end because there were no more souls in the Guff to be born. I've always had a strange fascination regarding reincarnation and rebirth; specifically how different religious faiths believe what happens to our souls after death.  Don't worry, this isn't going to be one of those fanatical discussions on religion and how one over powers the other. My personal belief about religion is this...EVERYONE is religious. Religion is simply defined as making a choice to believe or not believe. What that belief may be is defined by our early teachings and later formed by our life experiences. And we're moving on...

I joke that my life's lesson, in this lifetime, is to learn patience. I must learn to have and keep the patience afforded saints. I've also joked that God understood that I chose to come back to learn this lesson of patience so only blessed me with one child. This trial of patience would be so great that to have more than one child I'd waste this life's lesson. I do love children. They are funny little drunk people when they are small, become argumentative asshole aliens in their teens, then finally become decent sub-humans you may actually be able to carry a half way decent conversation. I can surprisingly adapt to communicate effectively with each phase it's scary. It also takes patience. Aha!

I read a book a few years back about past life regression hypnosis. I saw a theatrical version of this type of regression therapy in the movie, "K=Pax." Good movie. All of my former ideas of past life and reincarnation possibilities surfaced recently, well in the past couple few months, and I am left wondering again. Who the eff was I before I chose to return? Apparently someone that needed a lot of work! Sheesh! I think I am here to not only learn patience but to overcome all my short comings from my past. All the short comings I did not fix in any of my lives previously have culminated to this big ball of personality I know today as me. My goodness I have not even scratched the surface of overcoming anything. Well, maybe. Ok, maybe not.

Here's the funny thing. I'm not alone in this journey. Now don't roll your eyes at me. We are all allowed to believe what we want and I believe I've connected with someone from a past life. What we were to each other before is not certain but we were something. I've never felt or known this strong a connection before, ever. You can be acquainted and familiar with a person for years before the "Masters" decide it's time to push you together. Its timing and timing has to be right, just right. These dudes and dudettes are watching and deciding who to "ship" like characters in a novel. The attraction was always there but just taking a nap. You begin noticing things about each other you never saw before. His eyes twinkle, she smiles. Then BOOM! Butterflies and fuzzy brain happen. Then all that matters is his happiness. And his happiness becomes her happiness and vice versa. Then I ask...was it a past life we shared or did we just chill together in the Guff?

Still have no earthly clue who I was, who he may have been. It would be interesting to know. Not knowing is fun too because we can invent. I dare say oddly, even at this age, I'm still surprised daily by the things that are firsts for me in this shiny new whatever it is. And it's not just actions. My effort is always matched and that is one of the firsts that made me trip and fall. Feelings are also very new. Some may be slightly reminiscent of times past but its all new found strength, endurance, and depth and all are tipping the scales! Makes my head spin in the most wonderful, amazing way! 

I truly adore Huckleberry! Truly!

As Always,

M

“To see and appreciate the soul of others with whom you are in a relationship is a higher state of awareness. To see only their outer characteristics provides a limited and incomplete perspective. Their current personality, just like their current physical body, is a temporary manifestation. They have had many bodies and many personalities but only one enduring soul, only one continuous spiritual essence. See this essence and you will see the real person.” 
― Brian L. Weiss

Doughnuts v Muffins

Jennifer Crusie explains in her novel, Faking it, there are only two types of men. Men are either doughnuts or they are muffins. The reasoning is pretty sound. Cracked Head Fred and I have had many a conversation about the differences between these two very delicious treats.  And there are distinct differences. There are also impostors so be wary. But once a girl understands the nuances attributed to each, well...let's just say a girl can save herself a lot of time and heartache or head full speed into a string of meaningless doughnuts. 

The doughnut first...

To quote, 'doughnuts are the guys that make you drool.' Doughnuts are crispy, gorgeous, and covered in chocolate. When you see one you have to have it, devour it. We don't always take one on the first pass. But we end up spending the entire day thinking about this damn doughnut so we go back for it even though we know it's a mistake. Yup, we take the doughnut home. Unfortunately doughnuts are not meant to be kept overnight. The next morning the icing is all stuck to the bag, it's not crispy anymore, and now it's just plain icky and you have to ask...Why on earth did I bring this thing home? Now you are filled with self loathing and have to brush your teeth because it's left a bad taste in your mouth. The worst kind of doughnut? One covered in sprinkles. Those are best admired from a great distance. In the end doughnuts are great when you want a quick fix but there comes a time in a woman's life when doughnuts just won't cut the mustard anymore. Hey, if you are looking for a fun time with no strings? The doughnut is the right choice.

The muffin...

The poor muffin just kinda sits there in all it's different shapes and sizes. They are wholesome, soft, and tasty but easily overlooked. Muffins are steadfast. They are there for you when you want them. They don't morph into cupcakes or ho-ho's. You can spend time with a muffin in your jammies and squishy socks and not be judged. Muffins will give you comfort and just take the time to know when we need a hug and kiss.The greatest thing about muffins? They are still delicious the next day and are there for the long haul. Also muffins have so much potential to surprise us and give us that fresh doughnut whirl. Think about it! There are pineapple and orange muffins, double chocolate fudge muffins, banana nut muffins because sometimes you feel like being crazy. The possibilities are endless! Understand there comes a point in a woman's life when the muffin IS what cuts the mustard. And boy do I love my Huckleberry muffin! Best muffin in the history of ever!

Ladies, we have to be very wary of impostors. There are doughnuts disguised as muffins and muffins disguised as doughnuts.  This is why its imperative to do a little research before you pick one up. Let's just call that a public service message. 

The book is actually a great read. 

Check it out! http://www.jennycrusie.com/books/fiction/faking-it/

As Always,

M

For a Gemini there are many things to fancy...

Since my birthday falls right in the middle of the mutable air sign, Gemini, my personalty is pretty accurately described in most astrology definitions. I mix well in all types of company and learn a little bit about so many different topics with such a wide range it’s almost annoying to some. I never claim to be an expert but I hear and read things and can't help sharing what I know when the topic comes up! I do like to use ADD as a clinical explanation and excuse for my flighty nature. Honestly though, I find I am much more grounded now that I'm older. Anyway, I like to find adventure in most every experience and do so with childlike wonder.  I am always searching for new things to experience. This brings us to today’s list of things I fancy…

Huckleberry. My family. My dogs. Game of Thrones...I wan't Joffrey's head on a platter! Huckleberry. Dragons. Eye shadow. Writing. Coffee. Wine when coffee is no longer the best option…or it’s past noon. Huckleberry. Bath and Body Works - it’s a disease really, a sickness. Butterflies. Did I mention Huckleberry?



There has been a decent amount of time spent cultivating with my Huckleberry. It was slow to start and by all means not a complaint, then things grew to a pace which I am incredibly happy. It is a good thing I had some help with the cultivation because I’m really quite dumb about these things. No, seriously. I am. But wonderful things happen when there are no expectations or agenda. Its a grand experience when your effort is matched and I can honestly say things are coming along nicely! Let's just agree that Huckleberry has been very good FOR me, and very good TO me. Quite exceptional really. 

One thing is certain, I'm a different woman! I don't know exactly how this happened but I find myself doing things completely opposite of how I did things in the past. I'm enjoying the ride for a change and enjoying the scenery. I don't have the desire to drive every inch of the road. I like not wearing the proverbial "pants."  Actually, I'm tickled I don't have to wear them! 

My girlfriend and I have a theory that women are responsible for the pussification of the American man. Fewer and fewer MEN  are available because women feel the need to beat them down.  Why do we do this? Why do women feel the need to neuter men to the pussification point? I'll admit. I was that woman three times in my life. Ugh! Lessons learned! To each of you I sincerely apologize. But this is what I'm trying to get at. I am NOT that woman anymore. I understand that old habits die hard and may slip in to current conversations which may seem reminiscent of those from the past but in the end...

I WANT MY MAN TO BE A MAN!!!

I realize my thought process shifted from my astrological sign to other things pretty quickly. Proves another point...I'm all over the place and obsessed at the same time like a true Gemini! LOL!

And those damn butterflies....

My Achilles Heel...

We will get to that in a minute. First, let's learn a new word.

I am pisstified. 

I am so profoundly pissed-off that I am in turn mystified due to the douchebagery acts to which I've fallen victim. The events leading up to this state have made me feel like a complete, utter, awkward turtle. And I know exactly why I am in this position. It's my effing Achilles Heel! Benefit of the doubt. The worse part? IT'S MY OWN FUCKING FAULT!

My horoscope read I needed to NOT make a mountain out of a mole hill today; to put my emotional hardware back in the garage so to speak. But I do this all the time! I never use the emotional plow and always take the passive seat. It's because I give EVERYONE the benefit of the doubt. I rarely, if ever, call someone on their bad behavior. Anyone who knows me understands that lacking all the evidence I will not judge a situation until I have full disclosure. Honestly, do we ever fully disclose everything? Uh, no. This is why I never use the emotional plow. To top things off, even if it isn't favorable information, I still allow some wiggle room. Must have been why I married a wife beater (#1), a cheater (#2), and an apathetic man (#3). My tolerance levels are astronomical, a juggernaut, overwhelming and unstoppable! Because of my high level of acceptance and relentless need for affection I end up in situations like now. IDIOT!

So where does this lead? I don't know. But I do know that I need to get over not telling people that they've hurt me or wronged me in some way. No matter how small the infraction may be I need to open my mouth and say, "Dude. That's not cool." And no, getting it out there isn't helping. I'm still just as pisstified now as I was when I began this blog. 

For the birds...all of it!

Have I ever mentioned how much I adore my puppies? I am telling you, I have the two best dogs in the whole wide world! They are happy to see me when I come home even if I was only gone for five minutes. Wagging tails and smiles! They both show me unconditional love and hang on every move I make. Yeah, I get that they are waiting for a handout mostly. They are quirky and gentle, innocent and affectionate, silly and lovable. Whatever my day brings, these two dogs make me happy and bring me great joy. Instant Prozac. My girls have been part of why I have remained sane during this huge transition in my life. The other part of my life keeping me from driving off the 595 into the everglades? My son. My son has been my confidant and right hand. If I didn't have him with me I would be crying myself to sleep each night in pure heart wrenching loneliness. Poor kid. Little did he know his young adult life would consist of keeping his old Ma from going bat shit crazy.

Adjusting from being dependent to independent has been a huge eye opener for me. Being my own handyman and automotive repair specialist is for the birds. I haven't shopped for anything outside of pure need in four months. I am dying to buy the newest fashions, cute shoes, and eye shadow. Yes, eye shadow! Being able to spend money freely on whatever I want. My goodness, that is the thing I miss most! I want to take a weekend road trip, or trade my car in for that cute red zoom zoom for shits and giggles, get a room at the casino and gamble on the slots all night! My life now consists of quiet evenings and weekends at home watching movies and cooking meals that will eat for days. Save that one night a week I visit my new friends at the cigar lounge, I've gotten boring. But I do love the gang at the lounge!

I need a new adventure! Who's game?

One broke girl on a budget

The biggest change for me since moving out on my own is not spending money on whatever the hell I want. I am no longer shopping every weekend for shoes, handbags, and clothes. I am actually using up my expensive face creams and shampoo before buying new. Food is purchased every couple days to ensure nothing is left to rot and waste in the fridge. I only buy and spend money on things that I absolutely need. Which brings me to my latest disaster.

I've been getting my hair highlighted professionally for about a year now. I wanted a change and decided that blonde highlights would do the trick. On my naturally dark brown hair the highlights are a striking contrast and attractive compliment to my fair-ish skin. Now, I don't normally divulge how much I spend on this or that, it's frankly none of your business. For this conversation though $125 plus tip every six weeks was getting quite expensive. I just don't have the budget for it anymore. With that realization I decided to lighten my roots myself a week ago. 

I am not a novice with at home dye jobs. I've been coloring my hair various shades, including blonde, since I was 13. It was what I was doing prior to getting my first highlights. I went to the drug store as I've always done, chose a box I knew worked for me in the past, and went home to "do my hair." After expertly applying the bleach to my roots and allowing the time required to develop I washed my hair. I looked at my roots while still wet and it looked pretty brassy. Ok, I have natural red tones in my hair so maybe this won't look so bad after I dry it. Uh uh. My roots are now a light shade of orange. Yes. I said orange. 

So now what do I do? I suffer a week and decide last night I need to do this again and I go back to the drug store to buy a different box I knew worked for me in the past and proceeded home to "do my hair." Can we guess what happened? My gorgeous highlights are still there but the roots are now an even lighter shade of orange. Yes. I said orange again. WTF!?!?!? I went to work today and my work husband came over to my desk to say good morning. He twisted up his face a little and asked, "What the hell did you do to your hair?" OH MY WORD it must be bad if he said something. He is one of five children in his family and the only boy. He grew up around botched hair jobs. He knew exactly what was going on. He knew I did not want to spend the money on a professional service and fucked it up. The horror. Once he called me calico I realize I needed to fix this shit and fast. 

I left early today and stopped yet again at the drug store this time to buy a shade of brown. I got this new brand of oil based color because I didn't want to fry my hair off. Chestnut Brown. I always knew that if you are planning to cover blonde you had to have a red base and that is why I chose the chestnut. I mix, apply, and rinse. While I was showering I tried to look at my hair wet. It didn't look any darker especially on the highlights. I was thinking that maybe the un-highlighted areas are now chestnut brown and the rest looks highlighted. I couldn't be more wrong.

At this point I am afraid to look. I squeeze the water from my hair and wrap it in my towel as is customary. I dress and clean the running mascara from my face and slather on some anti-aging goop. I need to reveal the final result. Off with the towel. I look in the mirror and gasp. Not only are my highlights still there but now my base color is carrot top red. What the hell happened? Why can't I get this red/orange to leave me? It certainly isn't a good look for me and am contemplating another run to the drugstore for the darkest brown to just cover it all up but know it will not fix anything. Especially my obvious genius. 

I need a ball cap.

Not the easiest choice I've made...

We are presented with and make choices everyday. Some are considered to be of the mundane variety while others are loaded with multiple facets and levels of difficulty. Deciding whether I will sleep 15 minutes longer or spend that time on my appearance is a daily choice. Going back to school to earn my master's degree was a larger choice that involved commitment and sacrifice. As I've gotten older the heavier choices take more time and preparation. So much time has been spent mulling over the "what if's" that I am left wondering, "what if I don't?" The most recent choice I made was gut wrenching and heartbreaking but so far seems to be a good one. 

This choice will come as a surprise to many of you and some of you will likely understand. It is not something I shared or broadcast with many. It was personal and required copious amounts of insight and introspect. No, no. I didn't get a boob job or decide I want to be a "Marco" instead of Margaret. I realized after ten solid years of marriage (13 years together total) that I deserved more. I didn't want to be taken for granted anymore. I didn't want to feel unloved and under appreciated. I didn't want to be his caregiver and personal assistant another day.I didn't want to fell like a second thought or cast off.  I didn't want to feel alone anymore. I figured, and thanks Lulu for defining it, if I was going to be alone I may as well be by myself. 

So I left. 

You read right. I left my husband. 

Listen, hubby is a good man. He's a great friend. He's always been an anchor of sorts, keeping me harnessed and feeling secure in this scary thing we call life. This is not about bashing the husband. This is about my realizing I had a very difficult choice to make. One that involved hurting a very good man and great friend. A choice that would affect three people. Hubby, my son, and myself. 

There is nothing to philosophize over. I wasn't happy so I left. I found a nice place in the city that gave me just enough room to live comfortably with my son and two dogs, that is close to work, and won't bust my wallet. I hope. It's been so long since I've been on my own. I have no idea how to budget an entire household without the help of a second income. I'm a big girl though. I'll figure it out. 

Hubby vacillated between emotions the first week after I left. He was weepy one minute and pissed off the next. I kind of expected that. Honestly though? I was a having a little trouble coming to terms with what I had done. I even doubted the choice I made on occasion. But then he seemed to be coming to terms with our separation pretty quickly so I stopped doubting. Funny thing occurred to me yesterday. I am still the one carrying the relationship with my husband even in separation. We do not speak unless I call him. And I had been calling him everyday. I guess old habits die hard.

So that's it gang. I'm on my own again. Now what?