No longer dormant.

I've been told by quite a few people, having read the few blogs posted, that I should write more often. They could have been lying and/or just being polite. It happens. I am hoping this is not necessarily the case and that they did, in fact, see something entertaining in my babbling of my numerous idiosyncrasies.

It's been quite awhile. Two years, in fact. I'd love to say that I've been too busy exploring the world and living a full and overwhelmingly productive life. I'd love to say it, but I'd be lying my ample tushie off. The simple fact of the matter is my life is small an simple and I'm just "mom." That's pretty much my entire existence now. Jess' mom. Anna's mom. Nick's mom. That's me in a nutshell. Don't get me wrong...I'm not complaining. I can think of nothing else I'd rather be than mom,but perhaps one day it will be "Jess' mom, the writer" or "Anna's mom, the one dating John Cusack" or "Nick's mom who won the lottery." I won't be holding my breath, but a girl can dream.

That being said, on the off chance of entertaining someone, anyone really, I'm going to make a feeble attempt at blogging on a more regular basis. I can only hope it's half as entertaining as my nieces' blogs. We shall see.

But, right now, it's nearly midnight and JessAnnaNick's mom is exhausted.

To be continued...sometime before 2012.

Habib, is that you?

It's official. I have become the victim of identity theft.

Hard to believe, I know. I always thought my credit was so shot, if anyone stole my identity, they'd actually improve it, but no such luck.

Anyway...the story goes like this:

I was checking the balance on my debit card, when I noticed it seemed  considerably lower than it should have. So, like a good girl, I checked the list of recent transactions...saw nothing out of the ordinary, but that days' transactions were not yet posted. Okay. Takes awhile to update. no problem.

So, today, at work, I check again. I see the charges: Grocery store, Movie place, Gas station. Yada, yada. And then...I see it. A web site address with a charge of $51.30 next to it. This is a site I have never heard of. So I type in the web address listed and saw what it was. And if they hadn't stolen $51.30 of my money, I might have been amused at what I saw.

A web site for Indian Matrimonial's (dot Indians, not Tonto Indians). Seriously. Check it out. www.shaadi.com

And so, I say to myself....self? You're not Indian. You're not interested in matrimony. I'm quite sure you don't want to marry an Indian. And so, I pick up my phone and I dial the "customer service" number listed on the back of my debit card.

Customer Service. I am using those words really liberally right now.

After a 10 minute hold time, I am connected with someone. I explain my issue. And her response, which I just loved, was "Well, ma'am, the only thing you can do is call the merchant who charged you and see if they will give your money back since it was an unauthorized charge. If they won't, re can file a dispute, but that could take 120 days."

(Guess who isn't happy right about now? Like having the flu isn't enough?)

Okay. So I hang up with the "service" agent, and I dial the toll-free number on the Matrimonial website. It rings. I listen to some idiotic message about refinancing your home, and it disconnects me.

Me: "Mother Fu...."  re-dial.

Rings. Message. Beep beep beep.

Me: "Son of a..."

Evidently, this number is only toll-free if you're in INDIA.

So, I call the not toll-free number. You can imagine my disgust at this point. When the...person...answers the phone, I can make out about 3 of the 25 words he greeted me with. This is not going to be pretty, I think to myself. And I am pretty sure I talked to this guy the last time I had to call AOL for tech support.

Habib, is that you?

And so, once again, I regale him with the tale of my debit issue, the fact that is was unauthorized, that I have never been on his site, never heard of his site, etc, etc. And what I hear is: "I understand that m'am, but sjhfksdiufhowef sfhags asdfhgasduy sadfyuasgdfu asdjha;oe asidhofu."

Yeah, that's what it sounded like in my head.

So I say..."I didn't understand what you just said, I'm sorry."

"I understand what you are saying, but skjhflsadhf djsfh asldkjfl alsduifhmkdf dfd df fdbs laksdb."

In my head: You have GOT to be f kidding me. "Sir, do you perhaps have a supervisor I can speak to?"

"Yes, please hold." Why the hell can't you talk like that the rest of the time?

Supervisor: "Yes, can I help you?"

Me: repeating myself for the umpteenth time.

Him: "Okay, ma'am, I understand but fjsaldfh asdf asldfha;of sdofuhas;dfo."

COME ON!!!

Me: "Look, bub. I am trying to explain to you that you allowed someone to charge a card of mine without my permission. I would not, have not, will NEVER be interested in Hindi matrimonial services. I'm not Indian. I don't plan on BEING Indian. I don't want to marry an Indian, I just want my money back."

Him: "Ma'am, sdjkf sdfs statement sfdsdfdsfp werwe customer service."

Me: "And how do I do that?"

Him: "Scan sdfsagd statement and send it to etr;awoirhga service."

:::forehead slap::

"FINE. I will do that."

So I did that. They have a "claim" open. I have also called back and opened a dispute with my debit card company, because I am pretty sure I had a real lack of communication with the other people.

 

And how was YOUR day?

Love and Flowers

Love and Flowers

The people who truly take the time to get to know me, know I am, by nature, a romantic person. I have a compassionate soul and a loving spirit and wear my heart on my sleeve. It's not something everyone sees, and cannot be seen in the span of a 10 minute online chat. And most who know me, or know of me, know what I do for a living. It has it's good days and it's bad, and sometimes the days just kind of run together. Everyday, I deliver flowers to people (aside from my other duties) and usually for all of the usual occasions. Some people are happy when they see me coming, some people are very cold and act as though they're being bothered by receiving a delivery. Very unappreciative.

Today was different.

Today I took flowers to someone and found myself touched so deeply by the circumstances surrounding them.

Near my shop is a retirement community. It has a building that houses patients in need of more constant care and has small cottages on the property for people who live more independantly, usually elderly married couples. Delivering to the people here is almost always a joy. They're so sweet and so thankful. I think a lot of them get very few visitors and probably aren't as remembered or thought of as they should be.

Anyway...I delivered an arrangement today to a lady named Doris. I'd never met Doris, I didn't know her, and I only met her husband when he came into the shop to place the order.

I rang the doorbell, and waited for awhile. I heard no movement and thought, perhaps, I'd come when no one was home. A few moments passed and I heard someone inside, and the door slowly opened.

Standing before me was a very sweet, frail little woman. I can only assume she was close to 70 years in age, or so. She did not have grey hair. She did not have any hair. She wore a sun visor on top of her head, which was smooth and bare from the chemotherapy she's been going through. She was clearly very weak, but smiled gently and said "Are those for me??"

I smiled back and said "Yes, they are. Would you like me to carry them in for you? They're a bit heavy."

She invited me in, and asked me to sit the flowers on her kitchen table. She then asked if I would hand her the card that was on them and remove the tissue paper that was wrapped around the arrangement to protect the flowers. I did as she asked and watched as she opened the card.

I've never, in all my years, and all of the people I've delivered flowers to for a hundred different occasions...I've never seen anyone light up the way she did. And I've never seen such a pure, unadulterated example of joy and love and happiness. She grinned and said "They're from my husband," as a tear rolled down her cheek and I found myself crying as well. In that moment, in that instant, she seemed so completely happy, completely at peace and it was as if nothing else in the world mattered. In that one moment.

I wished her a good day and she thanked me again and I left and felt more tears coming.

The occasion? Not a wedding anniversary or a birthday or any of the other calendar days where men are "supposed" to send flowers. It wasn't even a 'get well" or "hope you're feeling better." There was nothing out of pity or despair.

No, these flowers were to mark the day they had their first date, many decades ago. A first date.

Here was this woman, who was clearly going through so very much, and all it took to make her happy was a few flowers from the man she loved and who, obviously loved her dearly in return. Where is that kind of love today? Where is that kind of commitment and understanding and total unconditional adoration? I am sadded to think these are things no longer in existence. Things reserved only for the older generation, who grew up in a time where love and trust meant something. Where people knew how to treat each other.

I hope it does still exist. And I hope there are other people out there who see it and appreciate it. That's the kind of love I'd like to have.

Here's hoping.

II

*************************

Addendum to the preceding blog:

It isn't about expecting someone to give everything...

It's about my willingness to give everything to someone I love.

The challenge of me.

It has come to my attention that it takes a very special breed of man to handle me...and I've yet to meet one. Not that I am anything special or spectacular, by any means...just that I am, may be, it's possible, I'm a TAD more difficult/jaded/guarded than the average woman. I understand that.

 

Here's the thing: I'm not changing for anyone. Not ever again. You should never have to change to satisfy someone else's needs or give them an ego boost. Period.  I've done that in the past and pretty much lost all sense of self in the process and I'm still trying to recover from that. So....you can take me as I am, or you can leave me the hell alone. It's really, really simple. You're either man enough to take on the challenge that is me...or you're not. If you are, you'll prove it or I'll see it. If you're not, were you ever really worth my time to begin with?

 

So, having said that, let's get a few things clear, shall we?

 

Romance vs. Sex. First of all, I don't think you should have to choose between the two. It's kinda sad if you do. They should be hand in hand, if you ask me, but I guess THAT doesn't happen this day and age, either, or so I am learning. Now, when I say romance, I do not mean 4 dozen roses, rose petals from the doorway to the bed, Dom Perignon chilling by the bed, Michael Buble' singing softly in the background (however, if any man wants to do that for me one day....um, I won't argue. be nice if it WERE Michael Buble'...). Romance is more than material things you buy or place somewhere just hoping to get laid. It can be something as perfect and simple as...a quiet room, a few burning candles and someone you really love with all your heart standing before you telling you they love you, even if you're too frightened to say it back. Making love on soft sheets, breathing in the scent of each other, every single, solitary touch just going through you like electricity because you know he, him, this person, is everything you ever wanted. *sigh*

 

Anyway....

 

I have no interest in casual sex. I just don't do it. I'm not going to invite you into my home, my sanctuary, for a quickie, I don't have one-night stands, I don't give myself up easily. If that's what you're after, please go find an easier target. PLEASE. Believe me, I know a plethora of women who want nothing more than a romp in the sack with no complications. I just don't happen to be one of them. Don't get me wrong...I am an extremely sexual person. Probably so much so it would shock most of you. BUT...not everyone is privileged enough to get to that part. If you ever have (it's a very, very short I-can-count-you-on-one-hand list), feel damn secure in the fact that you meant something to me then and still do now. One in particular, but that's neither here nor there so let's not linger.

 

 

I am a good person. Yes, I am a really, really...difficult, can be stubborn, easily hurt, way sensitive person, but I am a good person. A good person with a huge, huge heart. I don't ask anyone for anything and I give everything that I can to the people I care about. When I love someone, I love them with every ounce of me. It's the only way I know how. When someone needs me, they need only ask. I rarely, if ever, say no to someone coming to me for help or encouragement or anything else. I don't expect anyone to be perfect, I only ask that they be honest. That they mean what they say and don't lie to me, use me, or hurt me. This is, apparently, much more difficult that it sounds. Particularly by the penis-bearing members of the species. Think about it. If any one of you reading this is a man I know, have known...what have I ever asked of you? And how did you treat me? And was it justified? When it came down to it...what impression did you leave me with? Something to ponder.

 

I'm not perfect. I think we touched on that in the previous paragraph. I have a LOT of faults. I don't know anyone who doesn't, despite some men's' obvious delusion of perfection. I admit to my faults, sometimes reluctantly, but I do. But people who know me, really know me, have made the following observations:

"You strike me as the kind of woman that, if she's treated well, like you should be treated, you would treat your man like a king. That you really would give all of yourself to him."

"You're the only person I ever knew who was really, truly happy being married, being with one person. Just having a home and a simple life. "

And this is true. Not because I am such a fantastic person, but because that's how I think you should love someone. Totally, completely, all-consuming, you-can-depend-on-me-no-matter-what kind of love. So...if anyone were to ever actually take the time to understand me, to appreciate me, faults and all, to see who I really am, what I am, what's inside...that's what they'd get from me. That's how I give love. That's how I want to get it.

 

Unfortunately, that's the one thing I am quite certain I will never, ever find. That's not being jaded, that's just being realistic.

 

But...I'd rather be alone then settle for something less. So, alone I shall stay.

At least until John Cusack knocks on my door. Of course, if HE wanted just sex....yeah, I'd probably give it to him.

 

Valentines Day and why it sucks.

(Disclaimer: I reserve the right to change any and all opinions on this dreaded holiday should I ever actually find a decent man. Thank you.)

I hate Valentines Day.

No, no...you don't understand. I HATE Valentines Day.

For someone who claims to be a Hopeless Romantic, as I am, this may seem...odd..I guess, but there are reasons. Very valid reasons, I think.

1. Valentines Day was my anniversary. Yeah. I had been married on V-Day. How freakin' romantic is THAT I ask you? Well, the idea of marrying on that day, anyway. He, himself, was not so romantic. How can I be so sure? Let us compare my Valentine/Anniversary gifts, first year and last, shall we?

Gift the first year of marriage: Gum and a candy bar. No, I am not lying. Gum and a freakin' candy bar. No roses. No, well, I guess technically there was candy, but I think a brown wrapper saying "Hershey's" somehow kills the romantic ideal there.

Gift the last year of marriage: No gift. No card. No phone call to say "hi" or "Happy Anniversary" or "Happy Valentines Day." No, what I got that year was a husband who came home drunk at 3a.m. telling me "Big deal...and tomorrow we'll be married 13 years and a day. Wanna celebrate that shit, too?"

The years in between weren't much better. Gee, wonder why I divorced him.

(Are you seeing a vague reason why this isn't my favorite holiday?)

2. I have no one. This is the holiday for romance and couples and mushy stuff, no? Granted, I am alone by choice...kinda...but still. It is hard, really hard, to be a single, boyfriend-less woman on Valentines Day. It makes you feel like a leper.

3. Do you own a TV? A radio? Do you see/hear the constant barrage of commercials for every jeweler known to man talking about giving her the perfect diamond to celebrate your once-in-a-lifetime-forever-love? Need I say more?

4. I work in a floral shop. A beautiful, growing floral shop. Next to Mr.-once-in-a-lifetime-diamond guy, I'm pretty much the busiest woman on the planet. Okay, CINDY is, but...I help. And the shop is full of men.. Handsome, loving, thoughtful, sweet, romantic men all buying gifts, animals, roses, balloons for every woman but ME. Helloooooo?!? And the cards I have to write? The winner has to be the guy who ordered a dozen roses and one silk rose in the center of the arrangement with a card that reads "I'll love you until the last flower dies." Come on. That shit would make Hitler cry. My GOD. Now, don't get me wrong. If you nice young men want to come to the shop and buy flowers for your women and make Cindy lots of moolah, by all means do it. I'll just wait to cry until I get home.

I loved being in love. I loved having someone. Or maybe I loved the idea of it all because the situation itself kinda bit most of the time. See, I should be with someone who likes romance, passion, intimacy. Who loves it. Who appreciates it and all the little things people in love are supposed to do for each other. And not just on Valentines Day, but every day. I don't think romance and passion and love SHOULD be reserved for one day a year. If you're lucky enough to find it, to have it, to have someone you truly love and who truly loves you back, every day should be a celebration of that love....not one day a year.

And certainly not with gum.

I had a dream last night.

I had a dream last night. And if anyone has ever had any doubt about just how romantic my mind is...well, here you go. I'm not totally perverted.

It was night time. Off in the distance, I could hear the ocean, waves crashing against the shore...smell the salt in the air. You could see the intermittent  glow of a lighthouse over the trees. There was a tent. The material was thin enough to see the stars through. Tables everywhere, crystal champagne glasses, white candles burning throughout giving the most amazing glow to everything. There was a dance floor in the middle. That's where we stood, he and I (he shall remain nameless for the sake of this blog, by the way). He was in a black tux, looking amazing. I was in a silk ivory gown...and barefoot (it's okay...pedicured and cute feet). He was holding my hand and smiling, looking into my eyes and making me melt like no one else does. And he pulled me close, wrapped his arms around me, and whispered "I picked this one just for you." Just then, music began to play, and I was hearing Frank Sinatra. Some day, when I'm awfully low, When the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you... And the way you look tonight. Yes you're lovely, with your smile so warm And your cheeks so soft, There is nothing for me but to love you, And the way you look tonight. With each word your tenderness grows, Tearing my fear apart... And that laugh that wrinkles your nose, It touches my foolish heart. Lovely ... Never, ever change. Keep that breathless charm. Won't you please arrange it ? 'Cause I love you ... Just the way you look tonight. Mm, Mm, Mm, Mm, Just the way you look to-night. And we danced. And tears rolled down my cheek. Good tears. And he smiled (he has great smile) and wiped them away, kissing my cheeks where they were damp. And said "I love you. Now and forever." And my FREAKIN' alarm clock went off. And I threw it on the floor saying, "NO!" It survived. So I am making mental notes to myself to eat chocolate covered raisins before bed again and pray to GOD it picks up there.