TIME TO GIVE UP

You know I looked for an image for "give up".  All that I seemed to find were images for "don't give up", or "never give up".  I had to make my own, because that's what I am going to do.  I've decided to give up on this wild goose chase. 

I don't know why I tried to look for T, but I have concluded that I  had temporarily lost my mind.   Maybe it was because I felt bad about how we left things, but he was not blind sided, as Trudi has suggested.  I knew that I would pick Derek, and he knew it too.   He knows me.  He knows that I would never be happy if I was away from my son.  I think that is why he won't let me find him now. 

I've been having vivid dreams, day and night, about a wonderful reunion.  I would find him, tell him that I still love and miss him, and from then on, we would be together.   I could be with him, and I would not lose Derek to a bitter P.  Somehow, everything would work out perfectly, and everyone would be happy.  That is just a fantasy, of course.   I wish that I could have a romance novel ending, but that's not going to happen in real life.  It's time to let go of the fantasy. 

So, it's back to real life.  I have my son, who is content with life the way it is.  I have my small business, which continues to grow little by little.  Spring is around the corner, and plenty of activities follow.  I have no time to think of lost hopes and dreams.  It's time to develop new dreams.

CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT--OR MADE ME MORE CURIOUS...SOMETHING LIKE THAT

Needless to say that after my pleasant conversation with Trudi, I have realized that T has not moved on, or dropped off the face of the Earth.  She acted like she sees him regularly, so he may even be back in Ackerland, for instance.   I wanted to find out.  I needed to find out, and I know that I will not get any information from Trudi or Anita because the last thing they want is me back in the picture.

So, I drove to the Ackerland airport yesterday.  It was a longshot, to say the least.  But, I was itching for some answers...probably lonely and starved for companionship...I must admit.  Without reservations, I just drove all the way up there without calling first, and didn't even know if anyone would be there, or if the place was even open. 

The airport was deserted, which must be usual for this time of year (what am I, an expert about airports now?), however, T's friend Jim was in the office.   I figured that he, of all people, must know where of his whereabouts, and would give me some concrete information.

What did I find out?  Absolutely nothing...of course!  I asked him outright if he knew where T was, and looked straight into his eyes, trying to attack him with my imaginary "truth ray"--didn't work.  He said that he had not heard from T in months, and that he might have gone to Florida to be with his kid.  I wasn't going to say it to his face, but I could tell that he was lying, and felt uncomfortable with his answer.  Unfortunately,  I couldn't water board the guy to get my information.   There was nothing else that I could do, but to give him my number to contact me if he found anything out.  I'm not going to hold my breath waiting for him to call.

I don't know what I expected.   It seems that all of T's friends and relatives are working against me. Maybe it's because T does not want me to know where he is--possibly "for my own good", or his own good.  I don't know if I should feel guilty, or relieved that he is as miserable as I am.  I have to tell you that the thought of Trudi "getting him back to normal" bothers me.  I know what she insinuated, and I'm jealous.

I want to scream out loud!  I don't even know why I am doing this! If I ever do find T, what will I do then?  I'm still in the same situation as before, with a son's happiness at stake.  I do not want to destroy it.   My conscience tells me to forget about him and move on, but as hard as I try,  I can't.  After all this time, I still love him.

I really don't know what I'm going to do next.  I know that many of are thinking, "there she goes again".  Well, you're right.  Just when I though that I had it all figured out, something happened, and I realized that I have no idea what I'm doing.

FYI...CONFRONTATIONS ARE NOT FUN

Today started out great.  Now, you know that whenever I start a post with that sentence, it means that something went wrong.  You would be correct.

Where do I start?  Well, since it was a rainy day, I decided to go to the mall and spend some of the money that I have earned since my first catering job on Super Bowl Sunday.  I know that Philip said that the money "is not much and not worth the effort...blah, blah blah", but I have earned enough of it to buy something small, at least.  So, I did just that.

Lately, going to the mall has been tricky for me.  There are a lot of memories floating around in "Burnett's Gym", and "Spiders Bar and Restaurant", as well as the dreaded lingerie store, "Sensual Things".  I felt a little heavy-hearted when I passed "Sensual Things", since the only reason I ever stepped foot into that place was because of T, and I haven't been in there since (what's the point).  But, I had to pass that store to get to my destination--another clothing store, where I found a great outfit that was on sale.  Had to go down another size, by the way.  Just saying...

So I was feeling pretty good as I walked back from the clothing store, and I was about to pass the aforementioned lingerie store door when I ran into T's "good friend", Trudi (if you don't recognize who this is, click the link).

If you said "Uh oh", then you had the right instinct.  

When she started out the conversation by saying "Oh look who it is...the perfect wife," I realized that it was not going to be a pleasant chat.  I was right.  It went downhill from there.  I guess that she has been waiting for an opportunity to blast me, and it all came out at once.  

Trudi asked if I had even thought once about T's feelings at all before I made the decision to "dump him".  She told me that I ruined her best friend, and "he is not fun anymore" because of my selfishness, but not to worry because she would "make sure" that he got back to normal in spite of me.  Nice little dig, there.

I was shocked and embarrassed, to say the least, to be dressed down in public by Trudi.  I felt as if I were being scolded like a mischievous child.  She did not yell, or make a scene, but there was a certain venom in her voice that informed me that I was deeply despised by this woman.    She really does care a great deal for T, and she blamed me for everything under the sun.  

I wanted to tell her that she had no idea how difficult my decision was, but I don't think that it would have mattered.  She had her mind made up, so there was no reason to  explain myself.   Finally, I no longer wanted to stand there to let her attack me any further, even if she might have been right.  I just walked away, making a quick escape, and she did not follow.  Rather, she yelled, "I hope you're happy".  I almost wanted to laugh when she said that.  I'm surviving, but happy is the last thing that I am.

When I made it back to the van, I allowed myself to sit for a moment and cry.  I realized that when I made the decision to give up T, I thought of everyone but myself--my husband, my extended family, my neighbors, and mostly Derek.  How would they be affected by my decision?  As for my own happiness, it had to go on the back burner.  I thought that I made a noble sacrifice for the tranquility of my son.  I still believe that I made the right decision at that time, and I've had to live with the consequences.  Regrets?  Many.  So many.  

I didn't think about how it would affect anyone else.  I should have.

I'M CHANGING ME

Good News.  My first catering job was a success!

Well you can't exactly call it full service catering, I guess.  Claudia picked it up and served it herself.  But, I did the cooking, and I got paid to do it--so it's catering.

Claudia called me that Sunday night and raved about the lasagna.   She said that her guests loved it too.  She asked me if I had a menu or business cards (which I did not), because her guests were asking about me and what else I would make.  I just told her to give them my number.  Since then, I have had a couple of jobs.  One, I did last weekend, and this weekend, I have another.  

I've worked out a small menu--some trays and some desserts.  I didn't even know what to call the business, so I just called it "Victoria's Catering" for now.  I ordered cards and they should be coming soon.

I could not sleep that first Sunday night because my mind was racing.  I was so nervous/excited/frightened about where this could lead.  Now, I'm just excited and proud of myself.  This is the first thing that is truly mine, and it is so satisfying to have money in pocket that I earned through my own effort.  It has been such a long time since I have been able to say that.  I'm changing for the better, and I like this woman.

P, as expected, is not as excited as I would have hoped.  Among other things, he says that it is not worth it to do all this work for a small amount of money.  I don't agree.  It doesn't take away from my time with Derek, or anything else that is important.  I enjoy it, and that is what matters.  This is for me.  

I don't know what it is with him.  Maybe he doesn't want me to have something of my own, or he doesn't want me to be happy.

Anyway, I could really care less what he thinks ;) 

OPPORTUNITY IS KNOCKING

Well, this came out of nowhere.

On Saturday, I worked at the annual baseball signup and fundraiser.  Every year, it is a fun indoor event in the cold of winter, where the community comes together at the local community center to sign up the kids for baseball, eat, play, etc.  I cooked for it, worked in the kitchen and behind the counter with a few other mothers serving the food.

The queen bee Claudia Perkins was there.  She organized the affair, as she does every year.  It is her baby.  Her minions were there as well, making the rounds, and doing absolutely nothing.  I think that I saw one of them throw a paper plate out once.  

Halfway throughout the afternoon, Claudia came into the kitchen and wanted to talk to me about my lasagna.  Needless to say, I was prepared for some kind of criticism.  Claudia is a control freak, I think that I have mentioned that before.  I was tired, a little sweaty and really was not in to mood for "well-intentioned suggestions".  I almost told her to get lost, but being the polite little mouse that I am, I couldn't do it.  I'm glad that I kept my mouth shut, because something wonderful happened.

She loved my lasagna.  Gushed over it.  That shocked me.  I don't know why, but maybe it is because I've never heard words of encouragement from her lips before--thought that I was in the Twilight Zone, or that she was drunk.  Then she asked a question that I was not expecting.  She wondered if I would make a couple of trays for a family party that she was having on Sunday.  She will pay me, of course, and pick them up.  It didn't not take me two seconds before I said yes.

I'm wondering if this is some kind of sign.  Maybe T was right about using my hobby as a business.  Do what I love, and it would make me happy.  I hope that this opportunity turns into something good.  I don't want to get ahead of myself, though.

TALKING TO MYSELF

On Saturday, Philip and Derek are going on another trip without me.  It's not an overnight trip, but it is yet another day out without me.  Alone again...naturally.  It happens all the time.  I spend an awful lot of time alone these days.  In fact, I am talking to myself.  I did it again at the grocery store, and some lady looked at me like I had just come out of the insane asylum. 

Yes, I know

Yes, I should be happy that P spends so much quality time with Derek.  He's a great father, without a doubt.  There are so many children out there without an active father, and Derek is extremely lucky that his father's world revolves around him.  Derek seems to be the only one who matters.   

P is a great father, it's true, but he's a lousy husband.  There--I've said it!  He was lousy before, and he's unbearable now.  If he did not take me for granted in the past, I would not have strayed.  Actually, I am more comfortable without P around.  The weekends with him are a chore.  They are loaded with stilted conversations, uncomfortable silences, and on occasion, snide remarks.  I can't stand to be around him anymore, and I'm glad when he is gone.  I just wish that he did not take Derek with him.

I could talk to my friends about this, but even though they act as if they understand, I can tell that they still feel uncomfortable.  They can't relate.  They are both in happy marriages, after all.  I can't expect them to feel what I feel.  They try, and they worry about me, which is why I tell them that "Everything's fine".  I don't want them to look at me with eyes of pity.  That's the last thing I need.  I feel lousy enough.

I guess that I'm just lonely, and I wanted to vent.  Frank's passing has put me in a funk and has made me go back on my promise of no more whining.  Plus, I have un-decorated the house and am going through cookie withdrawals (cookies turned into a crutch during the holidays).  I went a little overboard for a month, and need to give them up to get back on track.  I don't want to gain the weight back.  I tried to hard to lose it.

So, I'm back to eating right, exercising and all that crap.  Yippee.  Well, at least I have a goal.  New Year's resolution:  Lose that last ten pounds (fifteen now), find a hobby, pray more, and hardest of all--get over T.

Most of all--stop whining!

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU ARE OUT OF THE LOOP

Frank Tempest died on Christmas Eve.  

I didn't find that out until yesterday.  I visited the nursing home after almost a month away.  I went to his room, as usual, but he was not there.  That was when the nurse told me that he was no longer with us.  Frank died of an apparent heart attack while asleep at the age of 90.  Rest in Peace, my friend.  I will miss you.

I must say that the news hit me between the eyes, although it was not unexpected.  Frank's health had been deteriorating for the past six months, and along with the onset of Alzheimer's (or whatever it was), it was only going to get worse.  It was tough seeing him losing his toughness, wit,  and memory.  He had become a shell of the man that I knew, and maybe it was better off that he died in his sleep.  It was a peaceful way for a man of his stature to leave this world.  

I wonder what I would have done if I had known about it in time.  Would I have gone to the wake or funeral?  Probably not.  It would have been selfish to insert myself into their life, causing further grief or hardship.  However much I would have wanted to see T, comfort him, and pay my respects to his grandfather, it would have been foolish to show my face there.  I'm glad that the decision was made for me.

As for my wish to send condolences, I debated whether I should send a card or call.  After much deliberation, I  decided that sending a card would be too formal.   I found Anita's Avon card (she sells it), took a deep breath, and called her.   I assure you that the conversation was not comfortable, but she was polite.  Eventually, I did ask how T was doing, and she said that he was "as well as could be expected".  With no other questions left that I was courageous enough to ask, I said goodbye.

I came short of asking where T was, because I didn't want to put her in that position.  Maybe she would not have told me, anyway.   I was tempted to request that she tell him that I missed him, but I didn't do that either.  It would have been stupid of me.  What good would it have done?  I think that he knows that I miss him.  Question is...does he miss me?

I guess that I will never know.

LETTING MY SECRET FREE

IT WAS THE WINE.

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.

PURPLE IRISES WITH NO CARD

ALL RIGHT.  NOW I AM NOT IMAGINING THINGS.

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.

HOLIDAY PARTIES ARE A DRAG...I'M REALLY NOT IN THE MOOD FOR THEM

BAH HUMBUG!

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 

THERE IS A NEW FAMILY LIVING NEXT DOOR

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.

MY THRILLING NEW LIFE AS A NUN

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 of...contact?  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?

I COULD HAVE SWORN THAT IT WAS HIM

I'VE BEEN UP TO MY EYEBALLS IN COOKIES.

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.

AN ANNIVERSARY TO FORGET

Oh, the joys of wedded bliss.  So much in love...and they lived happily ever after...blah blah blah. Yeah right.

Yesterday was our 11th wedding anniversary.  It was a big deal...but only to Derek. He seemed to be the only one excited about it.  I was apprehensive about the day, and Philip was indifferent.  Derek made us a card filled with crayon drawings and misspelled words--I will treasure it forever.  It was the only good thing that happened all day.

As for the actual day, all I can say is that I tried. I had dinner ready for him when he and Derek got home from an outing--Roast Beef, mashed potatoes, etc.--everything that Philip liked.  I tried to make the rest of the day special, since they were gone for most of it, but he was not in the mood to act like the happily married couple.  Eventually, I felt the same way.

I tried to be patient when he told me that he was not hungry, still recovering from the large Thanksgiving meal the day before.  Beside, they grabbed some "take out" on the road.  Derek and he planned to head directly towards the living room to watch a college football game.

Philip has not tried at all in these past two weeks.  I don't know what I expected, considering the circumstances of our near split.  He actually volunteered to go into work on the day after Thanksgiving, when others have off, until Derek begged him to stay home and take him somewhere.  I guess that he thought that it would been too hard to spend four full days in a row with me without the cushion of a work day.  Forty eight hours on the weekend is long enough.  Ninety-six?  Well, I guess that it was an impossibility.

I know..."Give him time".  I am trying to do just that.   You don't have to remind me that it's my fault that my marriage is down the toilet.  However, he could try to make it easier for both of us.  We could be like before--platonic roommates living in the same house, but trying, at least, to be civil to one another.  Right now, climbing that mountain seems to be insurmountable.

FYI, I am not sulking.

MUCH TO BE THANKFUL FOR

I spent this Thanksgiving at my parent's house.  Spent most of the day in the kitchen with my mom, sister and sister-in-law as "the men", including my younger brother,  hung out in the living room watching football.  I basically stayed away from Philip as much as possible.  I was better off.

Once we were seated at the dining room table, my brother and his wife had a big announcement.  My sister-in-law is pregnant with her first child, and is 3 months along.  If all goes well, she will probably have the baby in May. This news hit me in between the eyes, because my child would have been due at the same time, but I did not let it affect my mood.  I took a deep breath, smiled my biggest smile, and then hugged my excited relatives.  My sulking would have to wait.

You know, I like the look of this table

As I hugged them, Philip curiously gave me the usual look (the "everyone can get pregnant except you" look).  I thought that it was a little weird, since we have not been intimate for at last six months, and probably never will again.  So why was he giving me "the look" that always made me feel inferior (and still does, as a matter of fact)?  Maybe it was just habit--another way to make me feel like crap.  He doesn't even know about my latest tragedy.  Would he have been more sympathetic if he knew?  Who knows.  Anyway, I don't know why I brought it up.  I've let it go, like everything else in these past few weeks.   

That news aside, it was a great day in the comfort of my family.  Philip and I play-acted as if nothing was wrong--played our parts well.  We had never been overly affectionate to each other in the past, so all we had to do was to pretend that we still could stand to be in the same room together.   

Life is not perfect, but it was never entirely perfect.      I can't imagine what we would have done if we had split up before this holiday.  I am happy and thankful enough that my family is still together.

IT WAS ON THE TIP OF MY TONGUE!

Last night I went for a long needed night out with the girls. It was a Friday, and we haven't been getting together to play tennis, and we needed an excuse to go out.  

I had a few drinks, and my tongue became a little loose, but I didn't let the secret out.  It was right there, ready to fly out, but I kept it in his cage.  That was the agreement that I had with P, and I kept my promise.  But, God how I wish that I could tell someone (besides the priest).  Maybe one day, I will spill my guts to my friends, and let the  chips fall.  That should be an interesting conversation--to say the least.  They will either console me, or will be shocked beyond belief.

Getting back to last night, I had a great time.  We went to a nice local Italian restaurant.  The atmosphere was perfect.  There was no Roberta, no young guys hanging out at the bar, and no T with a date to muddle my mind.  It was just me, Chloe and Theresa--eating food, drinking wine and laughing.  All this, and I was hangover free this morning.  Thank God for small miracles.

I missed the laughing.  There has not been enough to laugh about lately, but I am not going to dwell on it, as promised.  I am keeping myself busy, preparing for Thanksgiving.  I've been watching the Food network lately, which is always fun this time of year.  Even though I am going to my parents house for Thanksgiving, I am still going to make a turkey over the weekend--for leftovers, etc.  I know that Derek loves turkey, and whatever comes with it (as does Philip), and I want to make him happy.  If it pleases P, well...THAT would be a miracle.

Speaking of this time of year.  It just so happens that our 11th wedding anniversary is coming up.  Should be interesting.  Eleven years ago, on November 25th, 2000, we married on the weekend after Thanksgiving (to make it easier for his family, who were coming in for the holiday).  It was cold and windy that day.  A sign, perhaps?  Probably, but I didn't see it.  Funny thing, I was checking my other blog and I noticed that I didn't post anything about our 10th anniversary last year.  It was supposed to be such a big occasion, and I don't remember what we did.  Maybe that was a sign of things to come.  Who knows?

So anyway, did I pass the non-pathetic, non-whiny test?  Yes, I still think about T and wonder what he's doing, and I probably always will.  But instead of listening to depressing music, I switched to Christmas CDs.  It's a step up.  You all should be proud of me.

SNAPPING OUT OF IT

I'm fine.  Thank you so much for your support.  

Sorry about that last post.  I even depressed myself when I read it, and I can only imagine what anyone else thought.  I almost deleted it because it was so...damned...pitiful.  But, it was about what's going on, so I kept it.  Maybe it was because of the rain, or the fact that it was a dreaded Wednesday where memories flood back into my head like a tsunami.  I guess that I should not blog when I'm having a bad day. 

I've come to realize (at last)  that I have become a bloggy bummer.  I'm going to change that.   I'm determined to snap out of it.  As for this blog, there will be no more self-absorbed,  melancholic and downright pitiful posts.  I'm sure that everyone (including me) is sick of reading them, and I don't mean to bum anyone out.    I'm just venting, and you've been my ventee (is that a word?).

My life now is what I chose, and even though it is not perfect, I have to live with it.  I'm making a promise to myself to stop whining like a five year old.   Time to pick myself off the ground, dust the dirt off of my clothes and get on with it.  Get back to my, as Mark once told me,  "Soap opera and Oprah watching, bored housewife" life.  Did he really say that?  Yes he did.  It was back in June at the restaurant, when I still hated him.  Didn't post that little detail at the time, but it was one of the reasons that I doused him with iced tea--among others.  He had this gift of saying whatever was on his mind, and at that time, I did not appreciate it.

Life was so much simpler then. I knew what the ground rules were.  I've got to get back to that.   Unfortunately, my posts will become boring, but so will my life.  Life in the fast lane was definitely more exciting, but I don't think that it was worth it. 

Maybe I should find a hobby.  Thanksgiving is coming, and I have much to be thankful for.  I am a lucky woman, considering all that I've been through.  I'm going to bury myself in holiday cheer (not the liquid kid, if you're wondering), busy myself with Christmas shopping, baking, etc.  Help out with school parties and events.  I'll be all right.  From now on, it's time to grow up, accept the facts of my life, and make the best out of it.  I am a strong woman...after all--or I will be.  Like the song says, "I will survive!"

EVERYTHING I SEE

This morning, I saw Doug, the "creepy guy" at the grocery store.  Well, I never called him the "creepy guy" before T gave him that tag.  I always thought that he was just a nice guy who always helped me load groceries into my car.  That was until he made me uncomfortable one day, and T was there to diffuse the situation.  About a month later, T told me that the guy was leering at, and talking directly to, my breasts.  Now I call Doug the "creepy guy".  Problem is, that I have no-one to talk to about him.

Such is life these days.  I see the creepy guy, and I think of T.  There are so many things that remind me of him.  When I pass a black SUV, I think of him.  When I see a Harley Davidson, ditto.  Many of the thoughts come out of nowhere, some that shouldn't remind me of him at all...like going to church.  You know how it is..."lead us not into temptation"?  When I think of the word "temptation", I think of him.  His picture might as well be next to the definition of the word.   T might not be around, but it hasn't stopped me from thinking about him.  One of these days, I'll be able to finish a sentence without saying to myself..."and then I thought about T".

Speaking of church.  I went to confession.   Bless me father, for I have sinned...confessed everything...affair, pregnancy...constant impure thoughts that won't stop, etc.  Not at our local Catholic church, mind you, because I didn't want to face Father Hanley.  I went a few towns over to a priest who has never seen or heard of me.  He said that I made the right decision to try to repair my marriage, and should go with Philip to marriage counseling.  Well...yeah...that's a great idea.  I would be more than happy to go to counseling.  Unfortunately, that would not fit into Philip's schedule--ever!

As for Philip, he is not making life easy.   He knows that a choice had to be made between him and T, and I chose him (well...technically, I chose Derek).  T and I are miserable, and that must make him very happy. For example, he saw me staring into space the other day and he snickered, reminding me that I should not worry about "my lover" moving on.  T could just open up his little black book and start with the A's.  It was so nice of him to point that out.  

T can move on, and I truly hope that he does.  Really...I do  (I think).  As for me, I seem to be stuck in a time warp--wishing that it was September again.  I'll even take August--before the affair,  when we were just friends.  I'll even take June, when I hated his guts--anything!  After a week, I just want to see him, talk to him or be near him.  There is this hole in my life that only he can fill.

This is so much harder than I thought it would be.  I find myself listening to Bread, and Barry Manilow songs, and there are no happy ones.  That's not a good thing.  I can only hope that eventually I will be able to wake up in the morning without wishing that I was still in bed.

MY ROOMMATE HATES MY GUTS

I guess that I can't blame him for feeling this way.  

I know it.  I see the frown that appears on his face whenever I walk into a room.  I can tell it when he looks at me.  The contempt is hard to hide.   Before the affair, I used to think that he didn't love me anymore.  He was bored with me, or didn't desire me anymore.  But now, after the smoke has cleared from my indiscretion,  I know for sure that my roommate hates my guts.

Sure, I know that I'm talking about the man who is my husband, but can I really call him that?  We no longer act like a married couple unless we are putting on an Oscar winning performance for our family and friends.  Derek doesn't seem to pick up the fact that we are married "in name only", and that's a good thing, but how long can we keep this up?  Will this get any better, or are we doomed?

Dear Wayward Wife, I hate you! Sincerely, Your Pissed Off Husband.

Today included a flawless performance to submit to the Academy.  We were at a picnic for the end of the soccer league season.  I was working diligently with other mothers, setting up and serving the food.   Meanwhile, Philip chatted with other people that we knew, including Roberta.  As I watched him, he glanced in my direction as if to say, "what the hell are you looking at?".  I felt a chill go up my spine.  I could feel it.  He hates me.  But, nobody else can tell.  As far as everyone else was concerned, we are still the perfect family that we always were.

There was a coaches vs referees game, and at the end of it, trophies were handed out to all the kids who participated in the league.  Derek has another trophy for the shelf, and the three of us took a picture together with a proud Derek in the middle.  When I look at it, I could see the smiles that we faked, and the fact that we tried to be as far away from each other as possible, while both touching the person who is the only reason why we are still together.

Tonight, after putting Derek to bed, we returned to our separate areas of the house.  We don't talk, we don't laugh, we don't love.  We are just roommates who can't stand each other.  Tomorrow, we will do the same thing at church.  Act like a happy family until there in no one left in the audience.

The perfect family.   What a beautiful façade.  What an incredible crock.