There is a corner market in my neighborhood…nice store, friendly owners and I try to utilize them to keep the wealth in the neighborhood when I can . Except their Ramen noodles are just not right. Same company, same packaging but when I get them elsewhere…they are firm, tasty and just all around better. The ones from the corner market are limp, watery and so salty I think it is a bowl of chicken flavored salt. But they are a good bargain (33 cents per pack compared to 67 cents at CVS) and no ride to the grocery store required.
I am talking about the noodles because it was just an observation I made while cooking them…I am trying to stay productive and busy. I have had two job interviews (we will see what happens with them, but really hoping my contract gets extended again), watched Remington Steele (one of my favorite shows) , caught up on missed TV shows, started reading my murder mysteries again and am back cooking dinner (the noodles do not count). I am trying to be done torturing myself: trying to figure out HT’s thought processes; shouldering blame and responsibility for his actions; wondering what is flawed in me that I attract crazy cowards; holding my phone in my hand, just.in.case. and other assorted stupid shit that dumped folks do to make sense of the rejection. No more…I am adjusting to my re-entry to the real world and real world interactions…I bought a pair of panties that has Kiss Me written across the front and a bell on the butt…it makes a lot of noise; I put on my black studded mini dress with studded black quilted flats and strutted my stuff (co-workers called me Tina Turner) and commandeered a conference room at work so me and the team could have lunch together…it was very Ferris Buellerish. Oh, I am going to jail…I gave the 22 year old ex-military security guard in my office my phone number…he keeps flirting and talking…why not? He says I am pretty and not fat, I am sure a 25 year age difference will not be a big deal. I am beautiful, beautifully flawed, a great friend and better woman. If only I could find that guy that is for me…that man is probably drunk and lost at the moment, but eventually he will sober up and buy a GPS.
So today’s blog post is a love letter (yes, still writing them) to my most favorite Panel member…Artsy Craftsy. I will be back soon with something…it will either be a breakdown or a breakthrough. Please enjoy the letter and as always, thanks for stopping past and reading and as usual…enjoy your day!
My Dearest, Most Wonderful Artsy Craftsy:
I love you. I am in love with you. You are my sunshine, no matter what color the sky is. You have been around for a lot, but it is your help, support and advice for my love life that stand out. You help make sense of the nonsense and in spite of all that is going in with your world: husband, job, running, crafting, family, other friends….you make me feel like a priority. Even when your own issues are running rampant, you do your best to push them aside to make sure I am okay. With Him, you listened and listened and listened. To the same shit over and over again. We never did find answers but you were the one who helped me make peace with the situation. And now, with PC/HT, you are the one who is making me see that because it was based on a lie, does not mean it was a lie. You are the one reminding me that running to the source of the pain is not healing and as much as I say I want him back, I just want him to show me I did matter to him…we all know it will not be what it was.
Your ability to zero in on what is the root of the problem and your selflessness are nothing short of incredible. Your ability to try to change the subject and take my mind off negative/sad thoughts is not so great but I know you do not want me staying too long or going too often to the pity party. Besides, you know I am stubborn (read: obsessive) and things have to make sense to me. You understand that, you get that and I love you for sharing your relationship advice and insight with me. We are the romantics on the Panel…we still believe that the true Prince is out there, and fairy tales do come true. You snoop, stalk and investigate with me. You remind me of my beauty when I am in doubt, of my competency when I feel inadequate and when I feel like the wallflower, you are the one who reminds me I am the life of the party. You make me feel special and fabulous.
You were my friend long before I realized it…yeah, we shared lunches and admired shoes, outfits and purses together. Hell, we even Craigslisted on the Island together (well, I Craigslisted, you watched), but until you burst into tears the day I got let go…I never knew we had a substantial friendship. The way you stayed in contact after I was gone, your concern over my employment situation…how could I have overlooked the wonderful person you are? And even now, almost 8 years later, your concern and love is just as genuine and deeper than ever. Of course, I am now giving you cause for concern over things that are probably graying your beautiful hair, but you never judge or attempt to make my decisions for me. Your pride in my achievements/successes, no matter how small or trivial rivals my mother’s and your cheerful pick me ups even when things are going well are sweet. Just like you.
I have no idea what I did to deserve your friendship and the perks that go along with it (an ear to listen, a shoulder for my tears, dammit dolls) but I do not know what I would do if there were no Artsy Craftsy on the other end of the phone. I honestly don’t. I know I am not half the friend to you that you are to me, but I appreciate you sticking around, issues, vicious cycles and all. And please know when I count my blessings, you are among them. Love you more than you will ever know. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being my friend.