send

You know those e-mails? The ones you type furiously, pouring your heart out, never intending to hit the send button.

The ones you write when you've been slighted, or feel overwhelmed, or sad.

The ones that should probably never be read by another?

Well, my stress returned soon after my walk in the rain last week. And I was horribly frustrated by my boss, who is also my good friend. And in a sleep-deprived, caffeine-high, stressed-out manner I wrote.

And wrote, and wrote. And then when I was deciding whether to send or not.

Yes, this is the part in the horror movie when I'm screaming at the soon-to-be-sliced character, Don't open that door!

I opened that door.

I hit send.

He's my friend, right. It can't turn out that bad?

Oh, no. Oh, what have I done?

washed away by the rain

I walked in the door after an incredibly long day at work. I was greeted by "the Tigger".

I so wanted to just kick off my shoes and relax on the couch. But one look in those brown eyes, and I was a goner.

As the sun was getting low, I quickly changed out of my skirt and into shorts, grabbed TheDog's leash and we headed out the door.

It had cooled a bit from the oppressive heat we felt when we wandered outside to find food over lunch. The cool air felt great.

But the long list of work I needed to do by the end of my short week kept scrolling in my head. I almost felt guilty taking the time to walk TheDog. But not entirely. She has been neglected lately.

We were on the far end of the park, when the first raindrop landed on my arm. The clouds didn't look too menacing, so I decided it wasn't a big deal, and continued our leisurely stroll.

The drops quickly got bigger. And closer together.

There was no way I could run in my flip-flops, so we just hurried up our pace. Slowing a bit to let TheDog rest under the trees in the drier spots. By the time we got out of the park it was raining steadily.

But the old trees in my neighborhood did a good job of keeping us not-too-soaking-wet.

Just down the block from my house, there were two girls playing in the puddles that had formed on the sidewalk in front of their house.

Now that's what a rainy day is for. Playing in the rain. Not worrying about work. Not worrying that you're getting a little wet.

As we finished our walk, the stress that had kept my neck and shoulder in a constant state of tension for weeks, released. The rain washed it away.

I'll get the projects done when I can. It is not healthy to have this stress hanging over my head. I need to let TheDog be a good influence more often. And keep my promise to walk her every day so she doesn't get too sore.

definition of adventure

The interest being generated was not what I had expected. My last foray into the online dating world produced various nice prospects. In the first few days.

This go round has not. At all.

In fact, after reading over the few e-mails I had received, I realized something was amiss. In fact after the "you have a very nice jaw line" line tonight, I realized something was terribly wrong.

I reread what I had written. Had a friend do the same. We came to the conclusion that stating that I love a good adventure may have sent the wrong message.

If you have read more than the last few boring posts about dating, or not dating, you know I like to go on adventures. I didn't intend to be advertising for the indoor kind.

And so, I have reworded and rearranged a few things, and hope the responses improve as well.

If not, I've got some solo and girls-only adventures lined out soon. (Yes, the outdoor kind.) So, no, you really won't have to constantly read my drivel on why I don't have a date.

crawling for drinks

I was so relaxed after my fantastic massage on Saturday, that I almost didn't go out. There was a group pub crawling to celebrate one's birthday. And I didn't know many of them.

The friend I had met them all through had bailed, to hang out with a boy. I had wanted to go to hang out with her a little more than the others.

But as the intitial response to my posting was not very great, I decided I'd meet more people out than on my couch with TheDog, a glass of wine and a movie.

We started at one of my favorite places with dinner and drinks. I sat down to dinner first and the cute guy I had just met sat next to me. We chatted a little. I attempted to work on my flirting skills.

The crawl continued across the highway, at various other locales. My friend met us out after all, apparently her boy was too tired to hang out, so we got the pleasure of her company instead. She stayed for a while, and we talked a bit, but she left after only one bar.

At the last bar on our tour, still a little sleepy after my relaxing massage, I left a little earlier than the rest. As I left, the cute boy said it was very nice to meet me, shook my hand, and held on a little longer than necessary.

It was fun to get to know some acquaintances better, meet knew people, and practice my (barely-existent) skills.

I thought I was on top of my game, given I knew almost no one. But one friend told me she thought I was unusually quiet while we were out that night.

I chalk it up to my post-massage relaxed state. But I'd prefer to be a quieter more relaxed version of myself, than the typical stressed one. Perhaps I need to schedule more massages.

real entertainment

As I sat out under the stars listening to two amazing musicians perform, watching everyone around me happily coupled, I realized what I really want.

Someone who will pack a picnic, bottle of wine, and a blanket. Someone who will be happy to just relax under the starry sky listening to amazing music.

Little did I know that the show would become eclipsed by my (non-existent) love life as the true entertainment of the evening.

My friends came over after the show and we sat in the backyard drinking more wine and beer. They were intrigued by the concept of meeting someone through the internet, as all met in college and have been happily married for, basically forever.

They insisted upon viewing the pictures I had chosen to represent myself to the world. Maybe that's being a bit presumptious, how about just to some of the single guys in the area. They insisted upon reading what I'd written. They insisted upon looking at possibilities for me.

They debated which photo should be my main one. Whether I was witty enough, or too witty. Whether I was too wordy, or needed to say more. Whether axe-murderer-look-alike #1 was the one for me.

It was very entertaining. For them.

I felt a bit dissected. I wanted to yell at them all to be quite. That they have no idea what it's like. That it's not fun and exciting. It's tedious, yet, apparently necessary.

That the last thing I want to do when I get home at night is spend another hour in front of a computer trying to meet someone. I want to meet him in my everyday life, doing the things I love.

That just doesn't seem to work.

back on

I asked pleaded with a friend to have dinner with me. We talked over tapas and sangria. I needed a bit of a pep talk. And some good sangria.

My friend is one of the insistent ones. She is extremely talented at her insistence. She made it not an option except to go straight home, write something and post it.

Just not here. I did as I was told threatened. I'm not thrilled with the result, but it will do. For now.

What I need are better photos. I tend to always be the one with the camera in my hand. Even so, it seems slightly odd that someone that can easily take 200 pictures in an afternoon has so few of herself.

In any case, it's back on. We'll see if anything comes of it.

single dilemna

My friend asked me why I was giving her such a hard time about her recent slew of dates. That's easy. I'm jealous.

She had not been single for 48 hours when she met the guy she's now dating. And she had various other prospects going for a while, as well.

Lately, since I've been asking for help with my writer's block, I've had friends try to figure out the reasons behind why I haven't been "snatched up" as one put it.

Particularly since I met some of the same guys as my friend at the same time, and she was the one that got and gave digits, and I just talked to friends.

So, I thought I'd try to dissect their reasons, see if I can help get past the writer's block.

- Some tell me I'm too independent. Read: I won't let a guy do things for me.

There's probably a little truth to that, particularly when I first meet people. I am terrible at playing the damsel in distress. But although I don't need a guy, I do want one.

- Some tell me I'm too picky. Read: They think I need to lower my standards.

I disagree. I give most anyone a chance. At least I think I do. But, just like anyone else, I do have a few "deal breakers" and a few things I hope to find in a guy.

- Some tell me I appear too busy. Read: I am too busy.

I am too busy, sometimes. But I'm also very good at making time for the people that are worthy of it. Perhaps that's the problem. The worthiness factor. Perhaps I need to re-visit the issue above.

- Some tell me I don't know how to flirt. Read: I don't know how to flirt.

My sister-in-law came up with this one. I fear she may be right. I'm not good at flirting. The only way I can attempt to flirt lately is through sarcasm. And lots of people just don't get it. On the other hand. I have been known to flirt, on occasion, in teh past, when the mood strikes.

Perhaps all I need is to find my way back to my flirty mood. Now where in the world did I last see it?

memory of places

As, I walked up to the counter, I was flooded with memories past. A sadness washed over me, despite the high from the amazing music that ended minutes earlier. Despite the great company.

Sometimes a place conjures up great memories, sometimes not-so-great.

Tonight as I sat on the patio with a great friend eating late night pizza, the memory of the place from years ago wouldn't stay hidden.

The theater across the street also used to be tainted by the ghost of that old friendship. I've been back many times since. With many friends and few boyfriends. And the bad memories of the place have been layered over with (mostly) good ones.

But the pizza place was where everything had changed in the friendship that apparently still haunts the place in my memory. We sat feet from where we had the conversation.

Tonight, we were both exhausted after the show, so my friend didn't notice my quiet sadness. In my mind, though, the memory wasn't quiet at all.

Between the memory of that night, how he let me down almost two months ago, and how he acted when I ran into him last weekend, I decided it was time.

Time to say goodbye. To the old friend, who I have since realized wasn't ever really one, to a relationship that never had a chance, despite what friends insisted, and to the ghost hiding within the pizza place.

other tris, other guys

I oddly wasn't nervous as I stood in the water waiting for our wave to begin. I just knew I could do it. I had a time in mind in which I wanted to finish, but it wasn't about that.

We counted down to the start, then we were off.

I wasn't as far towards the front of the wave as usual, and had to make my way past some slower swimmers right from the start. There seemed to be lots of stragglers this year. I felt I had to dodge many, many more than in years past.

I knew my time was off as I came up the boat ramp, even though I'd forgotten to start my watch. It just felt slow. But I was still determined.

I saw my mom as I got close to the transition area. She was cheering me on. I smiled, it was great to have her there. She'd never come up to watch me do a tri before.

I quickly dried my feet, put on my socks and cycling shoes. Then some sunscreen, my helmet and gloves.

My sister-in-law had made it to the transition area by this time, and we encouraged each other as we left on the bike leg.

I felt good on the bike. The hills weren't easy, but only because of my hip, not because I hadn't ridden enough, like last year.

I was over a third of the way through the bike leg, sure I was on target to get my best time, when I heard a very loud pop.

Luckily I wasn't on a downhill, and could easily get the bike off to the shoulder without wrecking. I quickly took off the front wheel. And hoped someone might stop with a pump, since I'd very unwisely decided mine was too loose, and would just fall off anyway.

Three very wonderful women stopped to help me get back on the road. Exactly why I love doing this race every year. The encouragement and compassion of the racers.

A while later, I was riding again. Although I admit the flat had knocked the wind out of my sails, a bit. I still was pushing, just not as hard, knowing there was no way to make my goal.

But I couldn't give up completely. I'm just not made that way.

Back in the transition, I quickly racked my bike, changed shoes, grabbed a water bottle from the cage on my bike and put on my race number and sign.

The sign simply said that I was racing in memory of my grandma. I didn't care that pinning it on took some extra time. She was always the one that inspired me to be strong. Carry on. And refuse to give up.

And I intended to be strong, not give up. Just as she would tell me to do.

I started running, but the pain in my ankle and hip told me that would be unwise to continue.

Instead I walked, but quickly, as quickly as I could.

I saw a friend on her way in from the run, cheered her on and carried on. It was hot, but not as hot as last year. I got to talk to several other walkers as I'd pass them. Always encouraging each other.

As I neared the finish line, I began running again. Regardless of any pain I might feel, any discouragement from the flat, there was no way I was walking across that finish line.

As I looked around for any sign of my mom or sister-in-law at the finish, I thought of last year. When TheBoy was there to cheer me on. How promising everything seemed then.

I realized how silly I have been. A (mostly) great guy turned out not to be the great guy for me. There are other great, even greater guys out there. One of them just may be cheering me on next year.

Time to really get back in the race.

Any sadness lingering because of who was not there to cheer me on evaporated as I found my friend, her boyfriend and another friend. We chatted for a while and congratulated each other.

Then I went in search of my mom and sister-in-law. We sat in the shade and relaxed for a little while. Talked with the sisters next to us about the race. About triathlons, and who we raced in honor or memory of. It made me a little teary-eyed.

We recapped the race. My flat and unimpressive time. My sister-in-law's awesome race. How she knows she can do better next time. Yes, she's hooked. That makes me happy. The entire morning made me happy, despite the challenges.

The long, really hot walk back to the car couldn't even dampen my spirits. It was a great tri, even if it was technically my worst. There will be other tris. There will be other guys.

daydreaming of dreaming

I've been (day) dreaming of getting 8 hours of sleep. I finally slept really well Friday night, after a little added security. But between a show at Red Rocks and an early morning phone call from a friend, the length was completely unsatisfactory.

Then with my brother's family staying with me before the triathlon, because I talked my sister-in-law into doing it with me, my sleep before the tri was nearly nonexistent.

Now work will keep me up late the next few nights, but hopefully the end is in sight, and the time to really write*, read and relax. in the meantime, feel free to help me out by asnswering my question from last week, below.

* Tri story to come, promise.

a little help

I'm diving back in, getting back in the saddle, getting back in the race. Whatever phrase you prefer. And although it would be perhaps better if I were talking about training for the triathlon that is now a mere 3 days away, it is not.

Training is about the furthest thing from my mind, lately. (Although I have been, so I don't die Sunday.)

Of course, its boys. Guys. Men.

After meeting several nice guys through various friends lately. And after those nice guys proceeded to ask out other friends. I decided that I again need to expand my circle of potential prospects.

Yes, I'm putting another profile up. The weird thing is, I'm having a hard time making it sound good. I'm not in the right mood lately to boast about myself. My outlook has much improved in the last few days, but I can't seem to write well. I'm blaming it on the lack of sleep.

And so, I turn to you, my readers, for help.

[Opening possible can of worms.]

If you were to describe me to some guy you were going to set me up with, what would you say?

missing

they finally did go to a show together. he was her backup date. her boyfriend had bailed on their plans, yet again. happy to go with a friend.

they grabbed dinner on their way to the show. over beers in the parking lot they laughed and talked. the conversation was easy. they talked about work, dogs, trips, music, boyfriends and girlfriends.

the show was amazing, as her favorite band's shows always are. but this one in particular. being there with someone she truly wanted to hang out with. who she didn't have to talk into going.

her friend appreciated the music much more than the boyfriend would have. this she knew. during her favorite song he insisted on dancing, as it was his favorite as well.

as they swayed together to the music, she was sublimely happy. for the first time in a long time. there was no where else she would rather be. no one else she would rather be there with.

as the song ended, and reality snuck back in, she realized friends was the only thing they could be, now. but at least his friendship might show her what might be missing in other relationships.

sleeping away darkness

Something is just not right. I can't pin it down. I never get like this. Well at least not for long. This time the light is shorter. The dark is longer.

Actually the light is barely breaking through.

I keep hoping that if I could just sleep. In my own bed. In my own house. Really sleep. It would all be alright.

I keep hoping that the hole that I can't seem to fill would just go away as I sleep. Or maybe it's not the sleeping. Maybe it's everything else.

Maybe it's missing my grandma. Or the boy. Or the possibility of another boy. Or my camera. Or my feeling of safety.

I don't want to go to work. I have to. I have no choice. No time off. Too much to do. But I don't really get anything done.

I don't really want to see my friends. I have to. Plans that can't be broken. But I don't really feel like I'm there. Conversations go by that I can barely recall.

I don't want to workout. I have to. Despite the pain in my hip. I'm (stupidly) doing a triathlon in six days. But I'm not really sure I can do it.

There's nothing I really feel like doing.

TheDog absolutely insisted I take her on a walk tonight. It helped. For a while. But the darkness settled back in. The dread of going to work tomorrow. The dread of having to put on a happy face for friends.

I had really hoped my sleep problem would be solved today. I was very much looking forward to crawling between the sheets of my own bed in my own house and sleeping. All night.

There was a mix-up. I now have to wait a few more days. But maybe in a few days I can sleep. And the darkness will evaporate as I do.

happy sadness

I woke up this morning completely unsure of where I was. Everything was blurry. The muffled noises coming from the next room sounded foreign, yet familiar.

My head felt impossibly heavy. My limbs felt as if they were pinned down. It took every ounce of energy I had just to sit up.

I pulled off the blanket and gingerly swung my legs over the edge of the couch. What was this bizarre feeling?

Comfort? Peace? Rest? Oh, yes. I finally slept. Really slept for the first time since my unwelcome guest. More than two weeks with only an hour or so of rest at a time. Not sleep. Not really.

I slowly walked into the kitchen and said good morning to my parents. I grabbed a mug full of coffee and settled into a chair. More tired really than I'd been in a while, but more awake, too. It just felt good. And safe.

Later we took flowers to the cemetery for my grandma's birthday. And went to dinner and toasted her. It wasn't a big thing, but it was. I took the day off to be there with my mom. I took the day off so I wouldn't have to face it alone.

Every year as long as I can remember the 5th of July has been spent celebrating my wonderful grandma's birthday. I'd missed celebrating the 4th with my family a few times, but never my grandma's birthday.

Birthday's are big in my family, but none like hers. I remember cutting camping trips short. Taking days off work. Taking 1700 mile round trip road trips just to be there with her as she marked another year.

This year would have been her 92nd.

We celebrated in her honor instead. And celebrating her memory reminded me to be strong. To keep fighting. To not give up or give in to the fear I've felt for weeks.

To do something about it. To do something about all the things in my life that have made me unhappy lately. To try to be happy despite the sadness.

Fourth

Happy 4th of July!!

* Photo brought to you by the generosity of my mom
letting me borrow her Christmas present tonight...
since I cannot yet afford another camera.

little bit of luck

I was already running late. Big surprise.

I still had to drop my friend's dog at her house and grab my now-essential caffeine IV before heading to my meeting. As I was hurrying around, my "check engine" light came on.

I assumed it was the bit of air in the gas tank, as I had let it get very nearly empty before filling up, and the light always comes on for about a day when that is the case.

I had her dog settled in, my extra-shot latte in my cup holder and was on my way when Car began insisting it wasn't feeling well.

I weighed my options. Head straight to the service department and ditch my meeting, or head straight to the meeting crossing fingers that Car would make it there and then to the dealer.

I promised Car I'd make everything alright, if I could just get to my meeting.

After my meeting, Car was obviously feeling worse. The dollar signs started scrolling in my mind.

I showed up at the dealer mid-afternoon. They took a quick assessment, told me what Car needed and fixed it. All within two hours. And with a too-frequent customer discount thrown in.

Plenty of time for me to meet friends for happy hour sushi and sake.

Perhaps this positive outlook is bringing me a little bit of luck and helping me to handle small crises with grace. Now if it would only help me sleep.