Sunday, December 27, 2015



Well, it always had been the alcohol.  It makes me lose my head.  It was wine that made  me embarrass myself on my birthday spa day.  It was alcohol that me flirt with T at my front door, and last night, wine made me do another thing that I was not supposed to do...spill the secret to my friends.

We were at Chloe's house--a little night time get together with the girls.  No kids.  Just me, Theresa and Chloe in her basement.  The wine was flowing and the conversation, the same.  Suddenly, the topic turned from the holidays to why T suddenly moved away.  It was Chloe who brought it up, or maybe Theresa.  Anyway, they were mentioning that they missed seeing him at the gym (they still go--I do not), and asked if I knew where he went.  I said that I didn't know.   I wish I did.

I was hoping that the conversation would move on, however, it didn't.  As I gulped my third glass of wine (or fourth?  I don't remember), my tongue loosened.  Theresa mentioned his physical appearance, and that was when I let the first clue slip.  When my shocked friends asked for more clarification, I told them about the affair--blurted it out suddenly.  You should have seen the stunned  looks on their faces.

From then on, everything spilled out of me--the exposure to Philip, the miscarriage, the reason T left, and the fact that I am so incredibly miserable without him, stuck in a passionless marriage.  The tears flowed like wine, but it felt so good to let it all out, since the secret had been bottled up inside me for so long--never to come out.  However, I needed to tell my best friends about it, and I didn't realize how badly until last night.  After it was out, I was so relieved.  The whole world came off of my shoulders--and onto theirs.  They swear that they will keep the secret.

Chloe said that she had a funny feeling that something was different between us that second night at the restaurant.  She said that we were acting strange (since we did not outwardly hate each other).  It crossed her mind that we were more than friends, but she quickly put it out of her head, thinking it ridiculous.  My confession proved that her instincts were right.

Wednesday, December 16, 2015



This is exactly what I got
Yesterday, I was in a bad mood.  Total Scrooge.  I went Christmas shopping at the mall, fought through the crowds, etc.  Seems like they all had the same idea--to drive me nuts.  Spent an hour on the line, at least.  Kids screaming in front and behind me.  Then I became dizzy because I had forgotten to eat, so a grabbed a Snickers bar and inhaled it in one bite.

Once out of that particular nightmarish store, I grabbed lunch--shoveled down a slice of pizza.  Then hit the highway for home to be back in time for Derek to get off the bus.  Once home, I threw all the packages in my room, swearing to wrap at least two of them before the day was done.  All I wanted to do at that point was to take a nap, but that was just a fantasy.

Then, at around two o'clock,  the doorbell rang.  Since I've been receiving packages lately (almost on a daily basis), I was not surprised.  When I opened the door, a man was there holding a box from SuperFlowers.  It stopped me in my tracks.  Could it be a long overdue peace offering from my husband?

However, when I opened the box,  it was quite clear that the flowers were not from P.  Nestled in the box were 20 blue irises (I say they are purple, but officially, they are called blue irises).  There was no card attached. I was astonished because P never gave me irises, but T did.  

Immediately, my mind drained of all sense.  My stomach did back flips, and my heart quickened.  My legs became weak and could not support the weight of my body.  I had to sit down.  I was sure that I knew who sent me the flowers, but how and from where?  Why?

As for P, I didn't know how to explain it to him, so I put them on my dresser in the master bedroom.  He doesn't go in there, anyway.  I spent the rest of the day and night in a daze--confused, afraid that he might come in and see the flowers, and then ask me where I got them.  I had an excuse all ready, but did not have to use it.  I spent a lot of time in my bedroom last night,  wrapping presents and staring at the flowers.  I wondered what this all meant.

Today, I visited the old age home.  I had not seen Frank in a little while, and maybe I thought that I could get some answers. Unfortunately, Frank was more confused than ever, and I was not sure if he even knew who I was.  It is really terrible what is happening to him.  It breaks my heart.

However, as I was leaving, he had a moment of sudden clarity and asked if I had gotten the flowers that he sent me.  I stopped, turned and asked him point blank if T arranged for the flowers to be sent to me, but that temporary moment of clarity slipped away.  He said "what flowers?", and I even though I repeated the question, I did not receive the answer I was looking to find.  He was lost in his own mind.

But I did get some kind of answer.  I didn't mention anything about flowers before Frank brought it up, so now I know that they were from him.  I don't know if T had anything to do with it, but I have a feeling that he did, because of the irises.  Was it his idea? Why didn't he send a note from Frank? Did he want me to think that they were from him?  Was this a way for him to send me a message of some sort? 

I don't know what to think.

Monday, December 14, 2015



I know just how he feels

Just joking...or am I?  I'm never like this during the holidays.  The tree is up, and the house is decorated, but I have no holiday cheer.  I'm Mrs. Scrooge.

I'm just not in the mood for holiday parties this year.  Maybe I'm just not up to the performance art of it.  Holiday parties are normally ramped up show-off fests where people are shoved together who really can't stand one another.  You are forced to make small talk with the wives of men who work with your husband.  You have nothing in common, except for to ask "how has it been since I saw you at last year's holiday party?"  Then you have to listen to the answer--endless drivel about sons and daughters, school events, and vacations...yada yada yada.   I couldn't wait to get home.  I would have rather stayed home with Derek, as a matter of fact, and I'm sure that Philip would have preferred it.  But, the boss expected the men to bring their wives, so...since I am still a wife (on paper), we got a babysitter and I went.

Well, that was Friday night.  Then Saturday afternoon, we went to Roberta's annual shindig, which is always a pleasure (a little sarcasm there).  The highlight each year is finding out what new dress she bought for the occasion, and how much of her is falling out of it.  Her wonderful friends are always there--loud, flirty and available to all men (whether married or not).  I never really liked her parties,  but at least she invites the neighbors.  Chloe and Theresa were there with their families.  Our new neighbors were there too, looking a little shell-shocked when they popped in to say hi.  I put on a smile on my face and tried to have a good time, but my mind was somewhere else thinking about what I was missing.  

Chloe caught me staring into space, asked me what was wrong.   I think that I managed to change the subject well enough--said something like I was feeling under the weather, or some other crap like that.  I wish that I could get all excited about the holidays, but no matter how many cookies I make,  I'm still stuck in the same rut, unable to dig myself out.    Maybe 

Wednesday, December 9, 2015


I knew that it would happen eventually, ever since the movers came and picked up everything he owned.  I saw the sign on the lawn and I've seen people come in to look at his empty place.  Now it's official.  Yesterday, another family moved into T's house.

I know that you're thinking, "How could he sell his house so quickly in this economy?".  I was thinking the same thing.  I thought that the house would be on the market forever.  However, I found out (through word of mouth--Roberta) that he is renting out the house, so he still owns it.  I came this close to asking her if she knows where he lives now, but I stopped myself.  Then she asked me if I knew where he went.  I guess that she doesn't know everything.

So, as a measure of good will, I walked next door with a bin of chocolate chip cookies (God knows, I don't have enough of them) to welcome my new neighbors to the neighborhood.  I met Jennifer and Randy, and they were both very nice.  They have a son named Jake, who is six years old, and a daughter, Erin, who is nine.  It's funny how that is the type of family that I wanted originally, before T moved in.  I wonder how my life would be different if they had moved into the house in April, instead of T.  Well, anyway, both the children go to the same school as Derek, and hopefully he will become friends with them.

It was certainly weird being in that house again.  All the furniture was different, but the house was all too familiar.  I have to admit that I had to choke back a tear or two.  One month later, I still miss him so much, and think about him more than I should.

Sunday, December 6, 2015


I live like a nun, however,  I can't fly

Well, that should be the title of this blog.  I am pretty much living the life of a nun--praying, teaching...with no extracurricular activities.   Actually, you can say that I've been a nun for the last six months (except for that lost month in a half when I was a lusty vixen.  Boy, do I miss that woman.  She was fun ;).  Now, you may as well call me Sister Victoria.

I've actually taken up reading the Bible.  Do you know what?  There is sex in the Bible.  Sure, it's not the Nora Roberts kind of sex, but it's there.  In the state I'm in, I'd probably find sex in an accounting textbook.  It's...that...bad.

So, how am I dealing with this lack  Baking.  I'm like Martha Stewart here.  As I said before, I am up to my eyeballs in cookies.  I'm making chocolate chip now.  What the hell.  Might as well die from a sugar rush.  At least I'll die happy, right?  No worries, though.  I'm not planning death by chocolate chip cookies, but what a way to go :)

By the way, thanks for all your helpful suggestions, but I think that the last thing I need is to have a "Pure Romance" party.  I can try all I want, but you can't get blood out of a stone.  I just have to laugh.  It's better than crying, or dwelling on lost opportunities.

Where can you buy a nun's habit?

Wednesday, December 2, 2015



These are not mine, but don't they look good?

Now that's a good way to start a post, isn't it?  I have broken down and eaten a couple of them too.  I have made all types--peanut butter, oatmeal raisin, linzer tarts, sugar...but I purposely did not make chocolate chip yet, because they are my weakness.  If I make a batch of them, they will not make it to the little cookie tins that I am handing out as gifts for Derek's teacher, our priest, our mailman, etc.  Well...maybe if I make enough, I will have some left over for everybody else.

I'm debating if I should go over to the old age home to see my friends there, and hand out the usual tins, as I do every year.  I have to admit that I have chickened out lately because I'm afraid of running into Anita (T's mother), while visiting Frank.  I haven't seen Frank since late October, when he mistook me for T's wife.

Speaking of T, I could have sworn that he called me today.  The phone rang while I was knee deep in flour, and I saw that the caller ID said "unknown caller".  Usually, I don't pick up for unknown callers, but for some reason, I did.  Planting the receiver in between my shoulder and my ear as I continued to keep my hands busy at work,  I said "Hello", but there was no reply.  There was just silence on the other end.  Then I said "Hello?" again--still no reply.  It was then that I realized (or hoped) that it might be T.  I said, "Babe?" and the person on the other end of the line hung up.  then, the phone slipped out of its spot and fell to the kitchen floor sending parts everywhere.

Maybe it's the fact that it is a Wednesday, but I believe that it was him, and he just wanted to hear my voice.  If so, I wish that he had given me the same privilege.  Possibly, I'm just overreacting, and it's just wishful thinking.   Most likely it was not him at all--just an unknown caller who dialed the wrong number.  

But, the fantasy is so much better.

There I go again.