To blog again...
And why not do it here, where I began six years ago? So here I am. Here am I. I am here.

I suppose I could have chosen to create another page, or even use an entirely different site, but why not stick with what I know - or, what I can remember of it...? Perhaps I find comfort in the familiarity of it, considering how much has changed. Perhaps I am too lazy to create something new and different. Perhaps I simply think it will be interesting to fill in the gaps between the old and the new, as the new unfolds here. I tend to find the latter most likely. And most like me. So, here we go.

I hope to post my first blog, tomorrow. I make no promises, however. Life does not always allow me to sit down and write when I would really like to. I will, however, post as often as possible.

My one and only warning to you, as a potential reader, is the likelihood that I will be "all over the place". That being said, I would be honored to have you accompany me on this journey.

Too

I must truly be evil...a bad seed even...surely a very bad girlfriend!!!

I am playing Fantasy Football this year, for the first time and although I really wanted to play, it almost didn't happen. The day of the draft, I asked Dash what he thought about me playing. He asked me if I knew what I was doing. I said not really. He said I shouldn't play. So, I consulted random strangers at the local Sharky's, as I waited for my pub to open their doors for the draft, and they all told me to go for it.

"Play! Who cares if you know what you're doing? It's fun! Will there be other women playing? Do all the people playing know what they are doing?..."

Still unsure of which decision I would make, and running out of time, I arrived at my pub to watch Dash, and the others playing, prepare for the draft. Most everyone had stat sheets and print outs of various design layed out before them like cheat sheets before a final examination. It was quite obvious these people took the whole thing very seriously!

Just as I began to lean toward the anti-fantasy football side of the fence, The Commissioner asked me if I was participating. I had to think, for a moment, how to respond correctly. I had Dash standing just beside me, his opinion already laid out on the table, and I wasn't sure I wanted to cross him in this uber-masculine realm. As a result, I told The Commissioner I didn't think so, but he told me if I was there during the draft then I must play.

*Splat!* I fell off the fence.

Grinning, in both a slightly victorious and "crap-what-if-I-do-horribly" nervous way, I gathered together the items necessary for what had now become something of a turning point in my relationship. If I did well, Dash would be so very proud of me and I would be able to hold my head up high; in my mind, I could already hear him bragging about me to all his uber-masculine friends. If I did poorly, however, I would have to hang my head in shame for the following three to four months, dreadfully listening to the beratement that would surely follow, regarding my inability to keep my nose out of places where it did not belong.

Numbers were drawn, in order to determine the queue, and I was relieved to be ten of ten. The Fantasy Football Gods had given me an opportunity to watch and listen so that, hopefully, by the time I was up I wouldn't look like a total idiot. They also blessed me with Number Nine, as he was kind enough to tell me players first names so I would look slightly more knowledgeable to Drafters unaware of my predicament. (Nine was helpful in another way, as well; at the end of the draft he handed me the names of two players, not on the provided list, whom he thought would be decent.)

As I drafted my players there was an occasional moan or groan from others, indicating a good choice on my behalf. I did get laughed at once, but it was for a joke I made regarding Dash and all his stat sheets. I called him a nerd but The Commissioner reminded me of where I was and what I was doing on a Sunday afternoon...apparently, I am a nerd as well. In the end, I survived the process and came out of the ordeal looking fairly decent. Dash even complimented my draft picks.

Currently, my record is five and four. I survived the first four weeks of the league undefeated. In week five I lost to The Commissioner by two points due to my poor choice of Quarterback. In week six I lost to the undefeated and self-proclaimed "Fantasy Football Jesus", which was a very painful loss and it took me several days to recover. In week seven I won again, only to be defeated during weeks eight and nine. As of last week, my excitement began to wane.

In spite of my two week losing streak, Dash seems to be falling more and more in love with me. He is eating up the enthusiasm I have regarding the entire process. We call each other, email each other, and constantly find ourselves discussing fantasy football. He is more than proud of me. He has actually bragged about me to other players within the league! I called my quarterback a "point-whore" one day and he laughed like he had finally found the woman of his dreams...

But this...this is Week Ten. This is the week we have teased each other about. This is the week I have wanted to win almost as badly as I wanted to beat the self-proclaimed "Jesus". This is the week Dash and I play each other.

He offered me a wager, which I did not accept. I admit it. I was frightened. My team seems to be falling apart and this week some of my key players are injured. Trepidation was my middle name at 11:59 AM, yesterday morning.

The QB I didn't start did very well along with two other players I didn't choose to start. I was very worried. Surely, I had blown it. I told myself it didn't matter, that there was no one I would rather lose to...

This morning, I checked the current standings with a knot of fear in my stomach.

I clicked the link...

saw the scores...

and cackled.

I didn't giggle. I didn't grin. I didn't sigh with relief. I cackled!!!!!

I have never cackled in my life! I didn't think I knew how to cackle, but there it was. I could not believe how much pleasure I received from what I saw before me. I could not believe the sound that had just escaped my lips! I felt horribly evil and yet so happy I could not contain myself...I cackled again. And again.

He is beating me by two points, but his players have all finished playing. I have three players left to play tonight, during the Monday Night Football game, and one of them is my Quarterback. It is possible that he may still beat me but it is also very possible that I am going to cream him like a damn good homeade southern gravy!! And he thought I shouldn't play.

What kind of girlfriend am I???

I am evil. So very very very evil...


Too

It will take a lot to put me in the dumps today! I'm not saying that it can't happen, as it is a proven fact that my job is mysteriously capable of putting me in a very sour mood very quickly...call it my secondary motivation to be bi-polar* (the first will have to wait for explanation at another time). Regardless, this day is off to a wonderful, beautiful, stupendous start!!

I am trying to figure out why...

So, I had a fabulous evening at home with Dash last night. I made meatloaf and green beans and he made mashed potatos and brown gravy. We sat down and ate like a family, which is not altogether unusual, in and of itself; the kidlets and I always eat like a family when a real meal has been prepared. After dinner, however, Dash raved on the meal I prepared, refusing to take any credit for it, whatsoever.

While dinner was cooking, and after dinner for a while, we did the crossword puzzle. I love doing the crossword with Dash. I often feel so inferior to his intelligence but he always manages to make me feel like the most intelligent woman in the universe when we do the crossword together. Every time I began to pout, because I didn't get the correct word or I hadn't seen something obvious, he would threaten to ravage me like a savage beast. He thinks that is punishment? I pouted...a lot...;-)

Once the kidlets were in bed I watched him play Harry Potter, as I read through the cheat sheets he had printed off the net. Every time he found something new or did something better than the previous time he would give me all the credit for having guided him through. I tried to tell him it wasn't me, as I didn't write the cheat sheets!! He wouldn't hear it.

And then...well...we had a little fun time. OK, we had a lot of fun time. Afterwards, back to Harry Potter and, finally, off to bed with me at 1:30.

And as if that was not enough...we were very cuddly and affectionate this morning. No "fun" persay, but lots of sweet kisses and goodbye hugs. Oh, and a little "argument" about why he has, once again, stopped telling me he loves me...but I only started that in jest, as his behavior last night and this morning showed more love than three words could ever express.

Please pardon my glow. I hope I am not blinding you!!! I just cannot help myself!

Now, if I could only figure out why I am so stinking happy today...

Too


*I'm not actually bi-polar, but I swear I have my moments. I even scare myself sometimes. Anybody know a good shrink?

It would seem that I am going to be no better at blogging than I am at journaling. Once again, this is an area where I find myself criticized. Apparently I am supposed to have some sort of routine...but that just isn't me! I am supposed to blog everyday or every such and such day. Whatever...

I am fairly happy living without routine in whatever area I can escape it. I have always been an organized person when necessary and routine is a large part of that organization. There is a specific place for everything in my home (the clothes in my closet are hung according to shape, size, and color). There are specific ways things must be taken care of within my home. There are dinner routines and bathing routines and bedtime routines for each member of my family. There are several work routines for each day of the week. I have even developed an afternoon/early evening routine for myself; that particular routine needs serious alteration, however! So, obviously, I do my best to avoid routine whenever possible.

I pride myself in being a "fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants" kind of girl. My ideal life would consist of self-employment, independent wealth, and the ability to go and do whatever wherever whenever. Unfortunately, my reality differs quite drastically from my ideal and it is for that reason I often find myself rebelling against "systems" established by society and the like.

I am an intelligent woman - certainly intelligent enough to know when to follow, when to lead, and when to toss the system out the window. I believe, very simply, that there are times when the rules don't have to be followed and society should not dictate when, where, what, or how I choose to live my life. Who should really care when I choose to write my blog and when I don't? Why should I feel the need to write when I may not have anything to say?

So if I choose to blog again tomorrow or it takes me two more weeks, my critics will just have to deal with it.

I am who I am and that's all that I am! ~ Popeye

Too

For everyone, regardless of how stationary or nomadic their life may be, there is one place that is more home than any other. It is that one place that makes them experience things not necessarily unique, but certainly special. The one place that inspires emotions like no other. The one place that literally makes you cry those happy tears because you just cannot help yourself. For me, that one place is Oak Lawn.

I took today off so that I could go make the final preparations for my divorce. I'm going to the family court building to file all the finished paperwork and get the entire ordeal over with. This so I will be a legally and completely divorced woman in just over two months. It has been a long time coming! Obviously I am thrilled.

Yesterday, giving thought to how I should spend this beautiful day, I knew there would be no better way to start it than by spending the morning at my favorite Starbuck's on Lemmon and Knight, in Oak Lawn. This morning, as I neared my destination, I was overcome by feelings I'd thought long past. I was filled with the sense that I was truly headed toward home. My heart started pounding and the muscles in my face forced my mouth into a most relaxed smile. But the moment I turned onto Rawlins and drove down that beautiful street, which holds such special memories, I began to cry. I was, truly, home.

I moved to Oak Lawn nearly two years ago, in December of 2003, amidst the censure of both my parents and my friends.
- "Why do you want to move to downtown Dallas? It's too far away from me!" ~ Disaster Girl*
- "Why do you want to move so far from me that I won't be able to run and help you if you need me?" ~ Mom
- "Why do you want to live in a neighborhood where your children are going to be exposed to drugs, prostitution, and those fags?" ~ Dad**
"Why?"
"Why?"
"Why?"
My answer was simple to each of them, "Because I have always wanted to live in Dallas."

Still, they tried to tell me I was doing it for all the wrong reasons. Mostly, they tried to tell me I was moving to Oak Lawn because of Ferdinand. I wasn't, but there was no convincing my critics, so I simply stopped arguing and made the move.

I will not deny that during the time I lived there I experienced some very lonely moments, but I was lonely within myself. I can only imagine how much more isolated I would have felt had I been living somewhere less pleasing to me. My loneliness was part of a growth and self-discovery process I was destined to go through, regardless.

While I was in Oak Lawn, I began to learn whom I really was and what I really wanted. I had recently reclaimed myself, but it was there that I learned how to be myself. It was there that I truly experienced love and heartbreak for the first time. It was there that I first understood what independence was, both the positives and the negatives of it. It was there that I was home.

Oak Lawn holds so many tender memories for me...happy, sad...every facet of emotion. When I left there, it was heart-wrenching and I would find myself going back to my Starbuck's on a weekly basis, sometimes more. I had spent countless mornings on their patio, with Ferdinand, as a lover, and later, as a friend. When I went back I would sit there, feeling homesick and sorry for myself. So finally, seven months ago, I stopped going. I had convinced myself that my feelings for the place were created by my inability to let go of that part of my life. Now, as I sit in the same chair at the same table I had so often occupied, I feel victorious.

As I drove in this morning, the feelings I experienced were real and true. They were unclouded by any inability to let go or say goodbye. So, now I am smiling. I can truly say, with no biased opinion, that this was my one true home.

I have moved on. I look back, occasionally, but now I look back with all fondness and gratitude. Who knows what the future holds for me? I certainly do not. But maybe someday I will return home...for more than coffee.

*I would like to apologize to Crisis of Infinite Monkeys for stealing the name Disaster Girl, but I couldn't help myself. It just fit!
**The slanderous term used was part of a direct quote from my father, and not the opinion of myself, Blogger, or Bloodsport Trivia.

I feel as though I must start by saying one thing...I have never blogged before. I was never even good at keeping a diary. While all my friends were going through adolescent angst and daily recording it in those cute little key-locked journals, I was venting freely and openly.

I am certain the thought of me telling my woes to the world, regardless of it's willingness to hear them, will not suprise many of you. I am a very open creature and although I am often insulted and criticized for my desire to wear my heart on my sleeve, I remain the same. Why should I change to appease those uncomfortable with my outward feeling? I don't believe I should. However, maybe I am willing to compromise...

This blog may be just what the doctor ordered (no, I am not seeing a psychologist or psychiatrist...yet). My blog will allow me to vent whatever I see fit to vent, to "say" whatever I need to "say", and to gripe bitch and moan openly. I will be able to be myself and say exactly what I am thinking and feeling, but you-the reader-can choose to "listen" or not.

Of course, I am not saying this will be my own private written drama, every day. Simply that I will be able to express my own opinions here without being sushed or told to keep them to myself. And if the occasional need to "cry" should arise, I can do it here. In any case, my main intention with this blog is simply to discuss all things new in my life.

The last two years have been extraordinary, strange, fun, depressing... So I plan to cover the things I have learned and the way life is changing me and the things around me. Obviously, I will also discuss the newest of the new, the current beginnings. Whether you care to "listen" or not is your choice, but I hope that in some way or another this will be a tool for sharing parts of me I cannot otherwise share. (No sick jokes necessary. ;-) )

Too