overlooked and oversexed

Sometimes, especially since my sister moved in, I need time alone.
Now, if you've ever had small children, you understand what I mean when I say that I need time to be alone...and to not be touched. hehe.
Granted, my 'baby' is now 3 years old and is out of the baby stage mostly except for her pudge and her baby lisp. But, still, I'm assailed some days with constant child supervision.

Last night I went out to Denny's.
I took my latest book, "To Kill a Mockingbird", ordered a glass of coke, and a cup of cocoa. I sat and read for 20 minutes or so until I found myself people watching.
We all do it. Even though our mothers told us at one point in our lives to never stare.

I saw two or three aquaintances of mine all dining with men that I know aren't their husbands.
At first I'm floored. Because, after all, it's not some hot date scene, it's Denny's!! Then I'm like all judgemental, then I'm ashamed because I know what it's like and how they probably feel.

I wonder if this is a trend now. Leave your husband with your kids and go on a date. lol.

In other news, I am reading "To Kill a Mockingbird" for the absolute first time. I've read thousands of books, but this one escaped me. I'm not sure why, but I'm reading it and I love, love, love it. Next, I'll see the movie.

Halloween is coming up too. I got invited to my first costume party as well. (I'm celebrating firsts it seems!) I don't know what I'm going to dress up as. I'm either going waaay over sexxed as some vixen and totally go over the top...or I'll go the other way and be a gross disgusting ghoul or something. No lukewarm spue thee out of thy mouth dressing up for Satan's day for me. :)

sweeping the clouds away

The frost is thicker on my van this morning than it has been all week. It's also a lot colder outside. I know if I just open that can of cocoa, it will snow.

I don't know how I have been gone for a little while, but people still know my email. It's interesting how some people can write to you, say mean things, then they expect you to just agree with them. Who would just take a mean comment sitting down? No, you wanna fight it out. I love that I have friends here who are like, "Meanies!" It makes me feel loved.

Sometimes I feel so selfish because that is all I care about feeling.

Trav, the guy next door, is going to 'winter' with his sister. She's...a mess. I told you some about her earlier and she is definitely someone who has a story...even if she is a meanashellmofo. I am only sorta sorry that I can't continue my saga about Trav here. It's nothing bad...I just know that we are going to be boring neighbors for a while. I have to go thru that...no point in me putting you thru that.

My sister and I are growing closer and closer. If you were to look at us, you would guess that she is the drama queen, and I'm the practical one. And if you were to guess you would say that growing up she was the devil and I was the angel. In either case, at this point, she the biggest drama queen to have ever lived, and right now I'm the angel for putting up with her. Some days it's like being married to myself.

I'm trying to have female relationships again. It's hard because girls are more work than most boys. We cut up magazines and pasted them in our journals yesterday. I do this practice quite often, but she was thrilled with the concept and stayed up late, humming and cutting up glossy pictures of supermodels. I kept watching her and I realized that she hasn't changed much from when she was 8 and wanted to copy every friggin thing I did. It made me love her and I wanted to go beat her husband up with a ball bat and tell him to treat my sister right.

The Musician keeps texting me from his workplace far away this week. I love each one.

I think the sun shines so strong in Idaho. It makes me think I'm really sitting on top of the whole earth.

PS. Nothing. I just love ps's because they sound cool.

keep it coming out

Now that the damn has been chipped at a bit, I can't help but keep writing.

Music.

As I drove my son to school this morning, I listened to "The Wine Field". Omg. I love them sooo much. They were a band that did the college circuit waaaay back in the late 1990's. Maybe it wasn't way back. I have all of their cds and even if they are broken up, they mix my heart and change me up every single day with their songs. I like that kind of legacy.

My Ipod, Triggernuts, is still my best friend, and I walk around all day with music bouncing in my head. I am praying to the gods that I can afford to buy my sister one for Christmas. That way she can listen to music and get thru her hard times like I did. (yes, I named my ipod. if it gets lost, i yell at my kids, "what happened to Triggernuts?!" They scramble to find him like he was a lost hamster or something.)

stories, we've all got em'.

I like how every person has a story.

And how when you were in first grade, and you still wore Mary Janes with white ruffle socks, and you stared at that Vietnam veteran with only one arm. Your mom told you not to stare and later she might explain that you don't judge a book by it's cover. At least my mom did. At least she did when I wore white ruffle socks.

Then later I learned that that man had a best friend, and he lost his arm saving someone he loved. He didn't seem so scary after that.

My sister has a story...it kinda looks like mine did. She and her husband and their little baby are staying with us. It hurts to read a story about someone else when they're so close to you. I hate waking up at night and hearing them fight...it reminds me of our old fights.
So I spend my nights sweating, cuddling close to the Musician.
Just stop reading.
But you can't when it's true life.

Men, sometimes are such animals.
I know us women can be bitches...but the fact that some men make women hurt and cry so badly at times makes me wish I were a lesbian. Okay...maybe that is extreme and a lesbian lover could make me hurt and cry like men have...but still, my point is, I hate it that my sister's husband hurts her. ...and sometimes men look like poison kool-aid.

Today, I woke up super early...like 6am. hehe. And I drove the Musician to work. It was still dark out. We held hands in the cold, and kissed with warm lips and chilly nose tips. Then I drove home alone listening to Regina Spektor sing about how I belong arm in arm with my Musician. I watched the sun rise as I drove into my driveway. Then I saw Trav next door picking up his newspaper wearing just his robe. I smiled a goofy smile and went inside my house not saying anything.

I feel rusty at this.

stiff and creaky

• Okay, you can stop with the hate mail. I didn't sleep with the guy and even though I did "sneak out", I was nothing like the Musician and I did not cheat...in my heart or concerning my vows. Shut up already.

That's over with. Now business.

My life has turned...gone back, resumed it's normal suburbian houswivery...is that a word? Anyway, it's back to PTA, my minivan, and hustle and bustle that most people think is boring, aimless "housewivery". :)

I don't talk often of my family...usually my dribble comes from whatever is floating or spinning around in my head. I share things that are usually not said out loud. I bet if you saw me, or met me at a bbq, you would be like, "she's Lynn?!" omg. "You're nothing like your blog."

I'm a secret agent...with a secret mission and a secret identity. How sweet is that kind of life. It's okay until lines blur and you forget what the hell you were thinking when you wrote out bits and pieces of your real life and your imagination meshes, (I love this word) with reality. It's scary...because when people you know from real life...start talking to you about your blog, you forget that you wrote it out somewhere. No, they can't read your mind! haha.

For a while there, I got kind of nervous. Someone who is very close to my Musician at his work found this blog. And they read it...and they mentioned it to me in passing. Because they know I like to blog and they know that I love knowing a new url to check out. How kind of them. How frickin' scary. So, it was nice to take the break and evaluate what was what and how much of my real self I put there. I wonder if they're reading this again? Hmm.

• I love my ipod. I can't seem to get over my love affair with it.

• Learning how to cook is really easy. Making things to eat is probably the most comforting motions you can do after a long hard day...being a mother.

• I recently donated like 6 large bags full of almost new clothing that belonged to us to Goodwill. Clothes that just sat in our closets. I cleaned them all out and now my closets and every single bit of laundry are done in this house right now. What a feat. I should be congratulated...unfortunately, most people are concerned with peace in Iraq, and 3rd world adoptions to care that my closets are pristine and everything is hung to perfection. Oh well. That is what makes my world spin today.
  

• I feel old. I want to feel young again. I want to feel tight, sparkling and smell like new car. Instead, I feel grainy, unshowered and dry.

• I am sorry that there is so much rambling and not much content to this post...it's my first after spending the last few months writing a story. :P

PS. i remember that time you told me that you were curious about every detail about me. and when i wrote about making chicken for dinner, you were pleased. i thought about that again recently and realized that writing about anything, even if it's just what you're making for dinner is writing, and it keeps you rolling right around so you don't get stiff and creaky. thanks you!

the end

The last day of our trip was bittersweet.
We had made up.
I had discovered new things, realized old things and felt resolute.
And my guy next door is never one to push.

Sitting along in a hotel room in a city far from home, makes one think and wonder about what life you left behind. And most people will disagree when I say that when I swore before God and the Musician that I would be there til' death parted us, but it's my truth. It's something I can't walk away from or compromise. No one seems to understand that it's not over yet concerning me and my Musician...it's just not.

I felt so blessed riding high in Trav's big blue truck, going down the highway, singin' and laughing...because I have never found friendship or love like I found there either. So don't think that my decision to come home was easy...it wasn't. It hurt like hell actually...and I felt like I was cheating myself...but I know ultimately I wouldn't be happy there either. It's funny how I know that. It's probably Grandma sayin' so from somewhere beyond. :)

In either case, that love is laid to rest.
And I have no regrets.

I have gotten a lot of email concerning martial-affairs, and adultery and that whole ball of wax...I don't know where I stand really. I know for myself I couldn't bring myself to do that...even having the chance. I couldn't do it. Not to say that it was because it was wrong...no. I just couldn't make that choice for myself...I know some people can and do and their world turns right around. :)
When it's all said and done for me...I just had to love. Love myself, love my husband and love my friend enough to say, "hey, it's not going to work, because I met someone else first." Probably the hardest thing I've ever said to someone I cared about. But it's said and the chips are falling where they're supposed to. :)

This story is finished for sure. I wrote most of it out of my journal of thoughts and wonderings and real life happenings. I hope you enjoyed it, even if it was written to be suspenseful and sad and full of longing.

crooked souls

It seemed that we were fighting just as much as I fight with the Musician.
Over everything.
Now we were 'discussing' sharing a room.

"It's cheaper."
"I'll pay for my own thanks." I sink down into a lobby chair. It's not comfortable. But, I don't want him to know that sharing a room scares me...incriminates me.

"Why are you being like this?" His voice has the edge that makes me cry.
I attempt to remain calm.

"I'm not on this trip with you so we can sleep together, or discover some week long romance! I'm here cause we're friends and I was compromising." I am stubborn.

"I don't see why there is all this-" he waves his arms in the air.
"There isn't "all this"...there's just things I don't want." My eyes are filling up and I hate that.

He grabs my hand and we go sit in the truck facing a truck stop.
"Explain it." He turns his back to the driver's side window and waits.

I take a sigh and explain.
I won't be like him. I won't do anything that looks like what he did...and yet here I am. I feel guilty. I feel happy, I feel mad that I'm happy. I can't go on this trip and feel the way you want because I'm not where I need to be. In my life, in my heart, anywhere...

"You seem unhappy with him...sometimes when I see that, I just want to take you and make you understand what happiness is." He's too caring. Why is that I see that as a fault in him?

"Just because I'm not happy doesn't mean we're not meant to be together...doesn't mean I get to go off and do whatever I want..."

"does he tell you to say that?"
I explode at him. "You can't know what it's like...I know what it's like to be betrayed. I won't be like him. I won't!"

"Why are you staying with someone who hurts you?" He is looking past me.
"Because I promised I would." My chin raises in the air.
He smiles.
"I missed it." He rubs his fingers thru his hair under his ball cap. Streaks of silver run crazy everywhere.
"Missed what?" I ask with a soft tone, still staring at the truck stop across the way.
"Missed meeting you first." He sighs.

standing on the edge of me

"what goes thru your mind?" I exhale. Feeling the blood rush to my head as I let go of that breath.

We're driving south and are almost to the edge of Idaho. The view any way you look is breathtaking. We've stopped at several gas stations for drinks, crackers, and sunflower seeds. Every time he's gotten out he's washed the windshield with the squeegee he keeps in the back of his truck in a black box. He seemed finicky when I first thought of him spraying on the car window cleaner, not Windex something else...but then I noticed by the time we got to our next stop, bugs would be plastered to the window, clouding my view. He would climb out again, buy the drinks, and start scraping bug juice off the glass.


"Is this what it would be like?" He smiles. I can sense he's embaressed for some reason.
"Yeah, me too."

"what are you thinking about?" He takes a sideways glance.
"When are we going to have a fight?" I laugh.

A few miles down the road we find a view point and decide to have our picture taken together in front of it. It seemed simple.
Get out.
Pose.
Click.

As I'm standing there an overwhelming sense of lonliness hits me in the face.
"what's wrong?"
He can sense my storm clouds as easily as if they were visible.
"I-" I can't explain it to him. It would hurt him.
"Talk. We can do that now." He wants so much from me...from this.
Why am I so stubborn right now?

He prods.
"It's just that...I've never done things like this before. I always wanted to." I'm trying to be gentle.
"Great! I was hoping you wouldn't think it's some lame boring thing tourists and old people do." His enthusiasm is forced. I can see he feels the awkwardness.
"But..." He sighs. "You wish it was with him."

We climb into the truck.
"I understand how you feel...but the person I feel that way about is here. What I don't get is...why spoil it for us, when you have the week off?"

I'm feeling guilty.
I hate guilt.

"there is no us." I am feeling angry. Mostly at myself.
"there is...for a week." He's pushing.

"Promise me...promise me that for a week, there will be an us. Promise that you won't be lonely or sad. Promise?" He's looking over at me every chance. I know he wants a smile.

"I'll promise that if...if you promise that when we get back...it won't hurt to say goodbye for good."

He's quiet for the next hundred miles...

chains fall off

Everything is squared away.
The knots won't leave my stomach alone.
It's not like I haven't taken a week off before.

Once, shortly after the Musician cheated on me, I left him for 2 weeks. I had the kids and granted he could find me if he needed me...but I was 'off'.

This is different.
It's not like a lie exactly.
It is time off.

I had sent the kids to grandma, and made enough meals to last an army a winter. The Musician would be fine as I went "off" for a week and took a break.
I think I feel bad because I'm not going alone.
If he knew, would he object?
Of course stupid.
Argh. Just be quiet.
I need this...can't you see that?
Yeah, like you need a bullet in your foot.

All my bags are packed.
I'm ready to go.
I sit. I wait.
I sigh.
Time to go.

He's waiting outside the door.
His handsome face is glowing in the morning sunlight. Autumn light.
He's taking my backpack and putting it in the truck.
The knots tighten tighter.
My breath seems stuck in my throat.
Why am I so scared?

I climb in and smell the leather.
"Are you ready to do this?" He's smiling.
I think I'm smiling back.
We pull out and my heart slows down as we make it out of the city and onto 'open road'.
The radio is going.

My mind clears...
Is this what it would be like?
He's smiling ear to ear.
My head is everywhere, thinking, seeing, processing.
His hand reaches for mine.

I sigh.
Home.
Familiar.
Safe.

You spoke my name so sweet.

Yellow post its.
Who would have thought the power they would have? I see one and it means something. Something good.
Something dark and omnious...eh, no...never that. But something.
They move me.
I see yellow post its and know that it's our bat signal.

I slip outside.
It's dark.
The air has changed to fall crispy breezes and that smell of woodstove is everywhere.

"Hey."
"Hey." I sigh as I sit down. It feels normal to sit down and prepare to talk.
My guy next door is wearing his usual baseball cap and denim jacket. His boots stick out of the ends of his long lean blue jeans and a shiver runs thru my spine. I love him. I know I do.

"You look tired."
"I don't want to talk about what I look like." I'm short. I am tired. I hate what started out as a pretty awesome friendship...has caused me stress yet again. I'm tired of friendships.
"okay. I'll be to the point." He shuffles his feet some. "I want you to choose."

"Okay...like no." There, I chose.
"why are you so mad at me?"
"why is it that the whole world...okay, you and three other people..make me 'choose'. Why can't everyone just make up their minds to just do it my way for once?"
"because...you want everything. Cake and everything." He laughs a little bit and the air between us feels more familiar.
"alright...I'll compromise. Can we compromise?"
"I don't know...can we?" He asks with no sarcasm. I realize that I love him so much. Mostly because when I'm sarcastic, he isn't. I love that.
"Name it." I say. I regret it as soon as the words escape. Two little words and yet they fly out faster than I can think before letting them loose.
"Come with me...for a week." His breath is rushed and I hear the plea...and hopefulness.

I take a deep breath.
"Okay."