Life.

Is this the life I'm supposed to freaking have?!

Sunday, blessed Sunday

This morning my manager from work called to say that, since we had a dusting of snow last night, the golf course would be closed. Which, in layman terms, means I don't go to work.

The good part of that was that I had plenty of time to get myself ready for church. Today is the first Sunday of Lent, and I'm happy I didn't have to miss it. And, even I'm amazed, I was early!

I found my seat and waited for the processional of the Priest, Deacon and alter kids. No longer can the term alter boy be used as there are just as many girls as boys, if not more.

My church is brand new: they completed a large renovation, expansion project last spring which allows for up to 800 people to be in attendance at one time - and seated. Today something else must have been going on in Nashville at 11:00 because there were plenty of seats available.

I'm not that thrilled with some of the decorating decisions in the church, but they didn't ask my opinion. Along the top of the walls, in a teal colored border, are different scriptures written out in large white letters. I'm not a fan of that decision, I think it looks cheap. Finally though, the masking tape numbers have been removed from the floor around the alter where we go to receive communion. Yes, they had to put numbers so people would know where to stand! Sometimes it would amuse me when I would go up for communion. In my mind I was praying I'd be standing on the lucky number! "Number 5...if you're standing on number 5 you are today's winner!" But alas, they never called numbers. I did notice blue taped arrows today. Apparently there is still some confusion about where to go.

There's something else that bugs me about my hour at St. Stephens. I swear there is a revolving door that leads from the large foyer into the Sanctuary. People are up and down, in the door, out the door. You hear the tapping of heals on the polished concrete floors. I've never been in a church where people just moved around so freely. I've also seen people come in with bottles of water and bags of snacks! Today, the woman who sat in the pew across from me, opened her shirt and fed her baby while the two women next to me chose Mass as their social hour and chatted away.

I guess my church has a very informal way of getting its point across. And, in the spirit of the moment - I guess none of the things I mentioned matter. The people are there and that's what counts.

For the first time in the three and a half years I've been attending this church, I decided to stop in the social room for coffee and donuts. I passed on the donuts because I knew I was having a Milky Way as soon as I got home. Most people don't know that I'm uncomfortable in large crowds, which is why I've never stayed after Mass.

But today! A new beginning! Geesh, I was uncomfortable. But I smiled, said hello to people and watched them look past me like I wasn't even there.

I dumped my coffee in the trash and left. After a quick stop at the grocery store for a few things I went home.

My Milky Way did not let me down.

Ramblings

I have writer's block or something. Every time I sit here to write about something fabulous, witty, or entertaining, I am stalled. I sit and stare. My mind is blank.

Like now! My fingers want to get busy on they keys and yet, they're barely tapping out a tune. Hardly even enough movement to clack clack properly.

Every one's dying to know what's new and exciting with me. Let me think, I know there's something. Yes! No, wait. Oh, here! No. Blank.

I did read five books this past week. They ranged from fluff - a story about an octogenarian who busted a jewel theft ring, to a novel about identity theft , to a story of mystery, intrigue and murder about an ex Special Forces guy filled with evil, Killer Instinct. Excellent book by Joseph Finder.

Finder has a style a lot like John Grisham, but deeper. Very easy to get caught up in the action and never put the book down for six hours.

Let's see. *tapping my index finger on my lips* I also watched a couple of movies on DVD. Mama Mia! was colorful and entertaining with it's songlist from the band, Abba. I watched it with subtitles for the songs so I could sing to them.

"...you can dance, you can jive - having the time of your life....oh oh oh , see that girl, watch that scene, diggin' the dancing queen...."

The other movie was awful. It starred Catherine Zeta-whatshername, and George Clooney. It was so boring that I was asleep within 25 minutes. So much for that!

It rained all day and was cold, so I stayed inside. Did not take my walk.

And I am deprived - having given up chocolate for Lent - my brain KNOWS there are two snack size Milky Way bars in the freezer waiting for Sunday when I get a reprieve from my Lenten obligation. Oh I can hardly wait! Do I eat one for breakfast or wait and savor it during my favorite Sunday night television show, The Amazing Race?

What to do - what to do....

In case you're wondering, on days like this, if I get dressed. Well, sure I do! I even took a nice, hot bath. It's my favorite place to take a nap, in fact.

Also, in the event you're theorizing that I just sit around and watch movies, read books and take hot baths....there's more to my part-time job lifestyle! In fact, yesterday I took all of the cups and saucers down from their shelves. I dusted the shelves, washed and dried the cups then reinstated them to their regal positions. The cups and saucers were my Grandma Dolores'. I don't know how I ended up with them, but I'm happy to say I did! The top of my refigerator, although I couldn't see it, required attention as well. I took all of my teapots down, washed them, cleaned off the top of the 'fridge, and put them back.

So you see? It's not just fun and games for me! I do other things!

Valentine's Day

Valentine's Day. It brings a host of feelings to mind as I sit here and ponder.

The feelings are mixed. As we know, society, aka, the media, fills our minds with images of beautifully boxed candy, gorgeous bouquets of flowers, diamond necklaces, sparkly rings...and lovers loving. As human beings we can't help wanting what they sell, can we? But think back.

I bet you can transport yourself back many years in time to a more innocent day when you were sitting at your dining room table, with all the purity of a child, writing out your Valentine cards for your classmates.

They always had sweet images on them, a honeybee with a heart: Bee mine! Puppies, kittens, and Cupid with arrows! I remember decorating a brown paper bag to hold my Valentine cards. And wondering if I would get any.

Some things don't change. Here I sit at 50, wondering the same thing. But knowing there are no Valentine's Day cards for me today. There are no flowers, there are no boxes of candy, there are no diamonds, there is no lover...loving.
With that said, it doesn't mean I am not loved, and that I do not love.

However, the day will pass the same way yesterday, Friday the 13th did...in slow motion.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Dark Night
by Lizzie Lynch
copyright 2007


It was dark in the room. Shadows formed on the walls from the light of a new moon. The windows were open and a cool breeze moved the sheer curtains like a dancer's skirt at a recital.

She thought about shutting the window but there's something invigorating about sleeping in a cool room with a pile of blankets. And he was here tonight, sound asleep laying on his side. She stood by the edge of the bed and listened to him breathing.

Slowly and methodically she untied the belt to her long silky robe and watched it fall to the ground creating a pool of fabric at her feet. He didn't stir. Fabric isn't very loud.

She pulled the quilts back on her side of the bed and slid in - naked. As gently as she could she inched her body closer to his and immediately felt a rush of warmth radiating from his skin and remembered why she liked him being here.

As she laid on her side, her lips ever so gently pressed to his back, She slid a hand cautiously onto his hip as though it were crystal, as if he might break. He was naked as well. She smiled. Her hand slid up his side and rested against his chest; the hairs curled around her fingers. She could feel his chest rise and fall with each breath. And she felt grateful to be a part of that.

She moved her lips closer to his ear and whispered, "I’m so glad you're here." He stirred slightly and shifted his body so he now laid on his back. She could barely keep herself from waking him - her desire for him was so strong.

But, he was tired. It had been a long day for him, so she steeled herself and melted into his strength. He rolled over again and now faced her, on his side, leaning on an elbow. She could feel his steady gaze upon her face. She opened her eyes.

"Hey." He said in a low voice.
"Hey." she replied.

Her eyes were drawn to his rugged face as his fingers traced a line from her arm to her shoulder, her neck. The backs of his fingers brushed her cheek. He lowered his lips to hers and gave her a tentative kiss. But she didn’t want tentative and pulled him closer to her and kissed him eagerly.

Slowly their mouths disengaged and he kissed a moist, sensual trail across her breasts. His hands cupped her breasts and she felt the tender kneading.

Her eyes open – sunlight is streaming through the bedroom window and her black Burmese cat is standing on her chest – kneading, and pleading with her large green eyes for her master and best friend to wake up.

She quickly looks around the room…the bed is completely made on the opposite side and like the Gilbert O’Sullivan song, she realizes: Alone again, naturally.

Memories

Lots of time to myself today. I had my bowl of Special K cereal for breakfast, threw on my sandals and took a walk. It's another beautiful day today in Nashville - 72 degrees.. Took my shower, got dressed and here I am.

I'm listening to one of the prettiest songs, Rainy Night in Georgia, by Conway Twitty *funny name, fabulous voice*. He was one of my Grandma Dolores's favorite singers. I remember going shopping with her one time - we were in the music department looking at records. I remember her saying, "Help me find Conway Twitty." We giggled about his name as we searched. I was about 8.

I loved my Grandma. She was funny, and quirky, and could cook like you wouldn't believe.

Donata Dolores Amelia Concetta Ursitti Fracasso. Say that five times really fast! My Grandpa's name was Nazareno. You might have guessed they were Italian.

I wanted to look like my Grandma. She was tall. I'm not. I don't think I do look like her. Except for the dark hair and dark eyes. I understand, from my mother, that I am a lot like her! That makes me happy. Makes me smile inside.

Some of my happiest memories stem from going to Willoughby, Ohio on Sundays to spend time with my Grandparents. We'd pile into the station wagon and make the hour long drive. Their house was, from my perspective of a young girl, full of love. I loved going there. They had such a big house compared to the little house that six of us were crammed into. I loved the Sunday adventure. You never knew who would be at 2256 Sunset Drive.

The times were made even more special when my cousins were there. Especially when my cousins from Maryland were in town.

When my cousin Elena was there I was always happiest. Having three older brothers was kind of tough sometimes. It was like having a sister and Elena is my age. So when we were together we shared in the same ideas of fun. We played Barbies, and games, and acted silly. And on special days, we got to walk with Grandma "down the hill" to the stores. She would always tell us to put on our babushkas. We thought this was so funny. Whether we did or not, Grandma always suggested it! And off we'd go.

Down the hill. With NO complaints. We were just happy to be with Grandma because it was always such an adventure. At least to me. I hope Elena thought it was too.

Want to know something funny? As an adult, I ended up working in Willoughby and sometimes would drive by Grandma and Grandpa's old house on Sunset Drive and retrace the route "down the hill". Hello! It was two miles each way! Isn't that child abuse?! To make us walk that far?!

We didn't complain...can you imagine asking your kids today to walk to the store with you and have it be two miles away?! We were smart though, we knew there was always going to be a reward when we got to the drug store. One time we got eye shadow kits! We had struck it big! I think we were 10 or 11. The down-side to that was Grandma called her neighbor over to show us how to use it. OK, that wasn't the real down-side to it...the fact that she brought her daughter with her was the REAL down-side. I'm pretty sure Elena and I thought Lori was a real nuisance. She was a couple years younger than us, and surely not as mature!

Sheesh.

We didn't want to hurt Grandma's feelings so we did what she wanted. I remember one time being a little sassy *I know, it's a stretch to imagine* I heard, "MISSY!" I thought we had company until I realized that was her way of getting me to know I was out of line. When Grandma wanted to make a point clear, she would simply say, "Now." When the boys got out of line they were known as "Mr. Keester."

Sunday dinners were amazing. Homemade ravioli, or lasagna. I remember helping to make the dough sometimes. There would be pork chops, or ham...enough food to feed a third world country. And, at Grandma and Grandpa's, I had my first experience of drinking pop! Soda. Whatever you call it based on where you live. I remember my brother Randy and I gulping a glass down and Grandpa telling us there was plenty more!

You might have guessed it...Grandpa loved food! Their basement was divided into a few different areas. There was a large room where we watched TV and played. When there was a large group, tables were set up in a long line to accommodate everyone for dinner. Black and white tile floors, black and white TV, white leather furniture. And, a picture of JFK on the wall over the TV.

The other side of the basement had a sink, 'fridge, pantry for dishes, storage...but then there was the other side of that room. It held the big chest freezer! Grandpa kept that freezer stocked with box after box of party slice ice cream. Vanilla, chocolate, Neapolitan! Ice cream in a box that was individually wrapped so you take out one slice at a time and eat it! Oh and did we ever eat it!
You could say, if you wanted to get technical, that sometimes we just plain snuck it. I remember getting caught once...twice...ok, several times! But Grandpa didn't care...that's what he wanted.

Now that's love!!

I could sit and write for hours about my times at my Grandparents' house; about the love I felt when I was there, and how safe I felt. I could talk about the family traditions, rituals, etc. of growing up with Italian grandparents. They loved having their grandchildren there. Dale, Kenny, Randy, Eddy, Elena, Me, Jeff, Tim, Beth, Greg, and John. *In order of age*

Those were the days. I'd give anything to have them back. But for now, I'll listen to Conway Twitty and remember.

Who knew?

Today there was a surprise 60th birthday party for my ex-husband. It was hosted by his three kids -one being my daughter.

I sent Mandi with three kinds of cookies, pumpkin rolls, and a birthday card from me as a contribution to her dad's party.

So what's my problem? Why did "It was awesome. Will call you later", her response to my text of "Party over?" - make me cry?

Really I'm very happy my ex-husband had a surprise party with family and friends. I don't hate him, I don't have anything against him.

So why am I crying?

You don't have to be Freud, Jung, or Maslow to figure it out. The answer is simple. When I got divorced I never thought I would be single this long. I really believed after the divorce that I had found true, long-lasting love with someone else. But I was wrong. It ended. I'm still single and alone. And I can't figure out what I did to deserve it.

I don't mind the single, and I don't mind the alone...I mind being single AND alone.

Mostly I'm wondering if I'll ever have a 1st anniversary again, share a birthday with someone special, sit on the couch and cuddle with someone while watching a movie, laugh at silly jokes, pick up someone's skanky socks, and look at a toilet seat that's up.

I don't want to be the old woman in the house all the neighbor kids are afraid to Trick or Treat at!

Ok...I know you can't tell, but half an hour has elapsed from the time I typed the last sentence until I typed this one. The pity party has ended. I feel renewed hope that I won't be 100 years old and living with just as many cats in a spooky house with no electricity!