Category: Uncategorized

what are my dreams telling me

I keep dreaming about sex: sex with the wrong people.

On the surface I’d say that my libido has reawakened.

But what about the wrong people bit?

Is it lack of options? Lack of imagination?

After what I had and what I lost in terms of a relationship, I’m not really interested in casual sex.

I kind of gave that a go early on – phone sex with an old lover – it didn’t do it for me.

I’ve had several offers (one that I seriously considered), but I’ve declined.

I think about waking up with someone in my tiny home and I can’t imagine it.

Then I try to imagine waking up in someone else’s home and that’s just ridiculous. I haven’t woken up in someone else’s bed since he and I moved in together years ago.

This is a tricky spot to find myself in at 52.

Do I want a relationship right now? Am I wishing that I had a boyfriend or a girlfriend? Casual sex – no strings attached? Long distance lover? One night stand?

I’m thoroughly enjoying being alone, having complete freedom and independence; I like being able to do whatever I want whenever I want.

I love the time that I am spending with friends – something I lost in the last 7 years. The friends that I hung out with then are the friends that were also his.

And many of those friends turned out to be not-friends.

I missed out on a lot of other amazing people – people who are real friends.

I know that’s what often occurs in a relationship, so I’m making up for it now.

I’m really happy and am in no rush whatsoever to be “in partnership.”

God how that expression makes me cringe – I hate the lack of articles in today’s language.

I can’t really see casual sex with anyone that I know (although my dreams are telling me something else.)

But there seem to be stirrings.

My devastated heart is healing.

my view tonight

DSCN0791.jpgThis is what I usually see

DSCN1092 (1)

This is what I’ve got tonight

Those aren’t clouds

That’s red dirt from over the border

 

I didn’t go to Utah…Utah came to me

PS: this happened on my way home

IMG_4518It’s a little windy this evening

you are mighty white

*at this time of year I change colors in the sun faster and more drastically than others so my skin color becomes a frequent topic of conversation. Someone thought I was Native American. I’m Italian – I get dark.

With that said:

I have a friend who helps me at work.

She’s three.

One of her parents is white and one is black; she is a lovely combination of the two.

We were cracking eggs together today, and she looked down at my hands then looked up at me, “Sally, you are mighty white.”

She’s three.

 

 

making a request of the Universe

There is something that I want; something that I want to happen which would take an specific alignment of the stars.

I sit here thinking about the possibility of that alignment while trying to keep any hopes and enthusiasms in check.

Those damn stars have not been on my side for quite some time now.

Which leads me to, “Come on Universe. Haven’t I earned a little something?”

Throw me a fucking bone.

my staycation

Or, the weekend I didn’t run to the desert.

The other day it got back to me that I am running away when when I head west.

Speculation runs rampant in a community this small.

I don’t think it was meant to sound judgmental, but I took it that way – mostly because it’s not an accurate statement.

Of course there have been plenty of times that I have run away but that’s not what’s going on here – it’s just that I can’t resist the idea of getting sand in my drawers and cactus thorns stuck in my big toe.

But this weekend, I made the choice to stay home. Friday evening, there was an event that I didn’t want to miss, and, I have been blowing off every single responsibility I have in order to spend more time in the dirt and sleep under the stars.

I figured I needed a few days at home to be a grown up and take care of my shit.

So here I am. Friday night was fantastic. I got a huge chunk of work done. I have a lovely Eater potluck this evening. My boys came over for a bit yesterday.

But in-between, I am bored as fuck.

I have plenty to do around here; vacuum, repot plants, scrub the shower, buy toilet paper and lightbulbs. It’s a goddamn thrill a minute.

I don’t go to bars, I have no desire to hit up a mall for a saturday afternoon shopping spree, I don’t watch baseball. And I don’t want to go for a run with 200 mountain bikers spinning past me.

I want to stretch my legs, my brain, my horizons.

I have wanderlust.

I come by it naturally; my mother is a wanderer. I grew up taking road trips all over Europe – cruising through the Italian countryside eating bread and salami, stopping wherever and whenever we had a whim.

I was bitten by the bug at an early age.

I used to tell my children that “I’m bored” was not in our family’s lexicon, and now here I am saying it.

“You could read a book, draw, make something, go for a walk, go for a run, play with the dog.” Those were my suggestions for them when they moaned about having nothing to do.

So applying those same suggestions to my situation…Yes, I could do all of those things, but I’d rather be doing them somewhere out there.

 

 

so fun

I love scoring cool dishes in thrift stores.

I love dishes period.

Tableware, serving platters, teapots, even though I don’t drink tea, all thrill me. Large bowls really rev my engines.

Generally everything I have in my hutch is “one of a kind.”

And I do have a few items that truly are one of a kind.

Occasionally I will pick up two or three of the same kind in a thrift store, but they have to be something really fantastic.

And, I won’t be the shopper who fucks up a complete set.

Anyway, the added bonus to my mismatched dinnerware is that it’s not the Ducks Unlimited stuff that I used in my past life.

My dishes now are a bit more reflective of me.

At some point I picked up these killer lunchtime plates – 4 of them, unchipped.DSCN0761

Tonight, I was cooking dinner with one hand and holding one of these cheery cherry plates in the other and I flipped it over to read the back:DSCN0762

So I decided to look it up.

And lo and behold, there’s a whole story that goes with them and people seriously collect these.

To eat off of, not to hang on the walls.

Websites, auction sites, Wikipedia, a fan club.

This pottery was made in Tennessee at some point between 1930 and 1957.

The company shut down in ’57 because they could no longer compete with plastic dishes.

My particular pattern is called Cherry Bounce.

It’s hand painted.

Isn’t all that just fantastic.