Dear Cybersurfer -

I'm so sorry to disappoint you.  I apologize for the inconvenience.  I don't know how you ended up here after you searched for "xxx child ass".  Were you looking for a child posing with an ass as in donkey?  Maybe a child in an ass / donkey costume?  Or maybe a "child" donkey?  Or maybe a child just being an ass as in being unruly?  Was the "xxx" a wild card in the search?  Surely you weren't literally looking for triple x rated child ass. 

You nasty monkey! Get the hell off my blog and don't touch anything on the way out!

p.s. Ever heard of an IP address?  Wanna know yours?

......................................................................

Now watch me get hits from people looking for a nasty monkey ... EWWW!

9:05PM CST  Went to Perverted Justice site to see where I could forward the IP to ... waiting on a reply.  Not sure they can do anything.  It may not even be the real IP but according to StatCounter, it originated in Canada.

When I logged on tonight, the Sloganizer read, "Friday takes care of you."  My first thought was, "I would if I could."  There are people in my life -- online and offline -- that are going through some tumultuous times.  I've embraced them with my heart but I wish I could do more.

Did you know that when you cry, I cry?  Did you know that when your heart aches I want to ease your pain?  Did you know that I feel protective of you and would shield you from despair if I could?  Did you know that I want to nurture you ... spoil you ... make you laugh ... make your life better in some small way.  When you're sick I wish I could be there to take care of you.  When you're hurting or scared or just blue, I wish I could just hug you and say, "It's okay.  Whatever you feel right now, it's okay.  We'll get through this together."  I feel this way because ... because I love you.  Does that seem like a strange thing to say?  Understandably so ... lots of people seem to throw that word around a lot these days, but I truly mean it.  I hope that doesn't scare you because truly, I don't want anything from you.  You gift me with so much already. 

Does this all seem cryptic?  If you think I'm talking to you, chances are, you're right.  I haven't made any secret about the women that I think "totally rock".

I'm not used to this, sharing about what I feel in the core of my heart.  I know that there are people who think I'm sappy or lame or whatever.  Maybe I am.  I just don't care anymore. 

My mother used to say that I was "too gentle to live among wolves".  I believe it's from a James Kavanaugh poem.  (Actually, pretty funny, my mom quoting James Kavanagh.)  What she was saying is that my heart is tender.  I'm easily hurt.  I'm too sensitive.  But it's exactly that thing that makes me too sensitive that makes me so sensitive to others.  It's exactly that sensitivity that makes me love fiercely and steadfastly.

Paul McCartney wrote, "And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make."  I hope so because my heart seems to be making a lot of love lately and I just don't seem to be able to stifle it or hide it -- nor do I want to.  I may not have a brilliant mind, but I have a brilliant heart and I refuse to hide that any longer.

So, I love you -- get used to it.

"When you've got Friday, flaunt it."  -- Sloganizer

Transferring pictures from my camera to the computer, I came across a picture I obviously didn't take or consent to have taken.  The culprit could have been only one person.

ME:  (yelling)  MR. MAN!

MR. MAN:  (entering the room)  What are you hollering?

ME:  What's this?

MR. MAN:  (glances at the picture and then back at me)  Your best side?

ME:  My best side ... funny.

MR. MAN:  Well, it may not be your best side but it's my favorite side.

ME:  Why would that be?  You're always saying what a narrow ass I have.

MR. MAN:  Because when you're like that, you're quiet.

ME:  Phhht!  Get outta here!

image clickable

If the camera is in plain view, it's like Mr. Man bait -- he can't resist picking it up and snapping pictures of me in my least attractive moments.  He came home, found the camera on the kitchen counter and snapped this picture.  Actually, I had been on the phone with Paul that afternoon and as you can see, it wore me out.  I was curled up in my recliner having a nap.  My pants aren't really that low -- they're unbuttoned.  What?  Don't you unbutton your pants to get comfortable?  Oh, and no cracks about buttcrack ... that's only the small of my back ... I can't help it if I'm bumpy.

By the way, Anjelle, I was nippy which is why I'm all curled up.

Excuse my mess while I fine tune the layout.  In the meantime, here's a couple of St. Patrick's Day prezzies for my wonderful friends.  I have the luck of the Irish, I'm telling ya!

a little Irish moon

1. Chemical :: imbalance (guess now we know who takes antidepressants)
2. Poker :: something you do to get her attention
3. Federal :: Freakin' FEMA!  Federal Emergency Management Agency :^p
4. Mattress :: Princess and the Pea
5. Who am I? :: comic impersonator
6. Investigation :: I was nowhere near there, I swear!
7. In good hands :: "He's got the whole world in his hands!"  Funny coming from me, right?
8. 8:30 :: Meet me at Starbucks
9. Creditors :: hate me because I refuse to get a credit card
10. Resource :: resourceful

What?  I didn't come up with one musical reference this time?  What's up with that?

Anyhoo ...

You know the drill.  "Rules are, there are no rules." There are no right or wrong answers. Don't limit yourself to one word responses; just say everything that pops into your head.  You can mutter there or mutter along with me in my comments.

This video pretty much sums up how I feel this morning.  My heart is some happy because I have the most wonderful friends and it's a pretty day and I have a new Happy Bunny t-shirt and I fit into my size 1 jeans easily and I get to see Meecie today and I'm in love and love's in me and, and, and ...

Mornin' world!

Of course, if my radio and Cherrios were really anthropomorphic, I'd freak.

I almost feel like starting this entry:

When last we left our lovers ...

Sometimes this all seems so unreal to me ... actually, most of the time it seems unreal to me ... okay, it seems unreal to me all of the time.  Everytime I think back on it and all that has passed between us, I have to shake my head in disbelief and wonder why life is so crazy and love is so intoxicating ... or maybe it's love that makes this life intoxicating.

For reference sake, in case anyone wants to refer back, there are links to Forever Love -- Parts Un, Deux, Trois, in the side section just under the calendar.

I'll be begin Forever Love - Part Quatre with a snippet from the end of my last Forever Love post ...

So, finally I had told him how I felt ... kinda-sorta.  I didn't profess my love.  Experiencing the panic after my last email, I knew I never would. 

I kept scolding myself for having written what I had written, but all along hoping for a favorable response.  The wait was nerve wracking but also somewhat heady.  Did I mention I was conflicted?

I didn't have to wait long.  His response was in my inbox the very next morning.  As I read his response I was shocked, thrilled, stunned and scared.  The battle inside of me raged on.  I transferred the letter to my PDA so I could read it again when my day slowed down.  I had plans to spend the day with my best friend, Meecie and her mother, May. 

May was 82 years old.  She was spunky, sassy, gracious and graceful, funny, loving, generous ... she loved me like I was her own -- in fact, she referred to me as her adopted daughter.  She could read me like a book.  I may have kept things hidden from many people but not Meecie and May.  They could always tell when something was going on with me -- good or bad.

That morning I let myself in and BOUNDED up the stairs.  When we started talking about this and that, I mentioned to Meecie that Paul had written me.  Without hesitation, I turned to Mama and raising my voice so she could hear me, I said, "Mama, I got a letter from a boy I kissed in high school."  Mama got a twinkle in her eye.  Much to my amazement, I started telling Mama May everything.  The more I told her, the more she smiled.  I spoke of the letter I had written and then, without hesitation, I pulled out my PDA and read his letter to Meecie and Mama.  To this day I can hardly believe that I did that -- that I had absolutely no qualms revealing everything to them.  It was especially remarkable because they knew Mr. Man.  Of course, they also knew about his cruelty and my efforts to try to make things right.

Although I read Paul's letter in it's entirety to Meecie and Mama, what follows is only pieces-parts ...

"Writing to you befuddles me.  It's the long-repressed passion, desire, regret, longing, the warm fuzzy remembrances.  I want to nurture that spark and then fan the flames it could blossom into.  That's the legacy you left me with, an intense awareness and appreciation of sensuality ... a lifetime of searching for more of what you gave me.

You, who I've sequestered in a special place in my heart for decades, are a lifelong obsession, the everlasting object of my desire, the one who forged the template for all my future relationships, and it's hard not to jump on a plane and show up on your doorstep with flowers and beg you to allow me to shower you with all that I am and want to share with you.

Your confession that that young woman was "in love with" me sets my heart fluttering, even though it was the mind and heart of a teenager that felt it.  I don't think I had a clue about love at that time, but I've been in love with the memory of us all my adult life.  How could it be difficult for you to believe I would remember you?  I was the other half of our equation, and you + me = pure ecstacy!  I guess the reason you may be astounded that our experienes had such a strong influence on me is that, to my eternal regret, I was not able to express it at the time.  You, my dear one, were the only one who lit my fire until I met XXX .  That's when I found something as wonderful as what we had.  Oh well, we can dream, and I will always dream about what was, what never was, what could be.  And what a wonderful dream it is, my sweet, of you and me and all the years of all the best life has to offer.

Affectionately, and in celebration of those two fortunate young teenagers

Paul

Can I call you again sometime? It was so good to talk with you, although it seemed a bit unreal after so long.  If you ever feel the desire ... [xxx-xxx-xxxx]"

When I was done reading the first thing I said to Mama was, "Wild, right?  Show up on my doorstep?  He's scaring me!"  Mama asked me if I was going to call him and I responded with an emphatic, "NO way!  I think I've done quite enough, don't you?  I mean, I kissed the boy twice and he's (reading from the letter again) "been in love with the memory of us" his whole adult life?  I must have been some kisser, right?"  Mama smiled and said, "Well, yeah!"  I told Mama and Meecie it was exciting to be sure, but it would probably be better to just leave it alone to remain a fantasy.

The truth is ... thirty-nine years later, beat up from drug addiction, living on the streets, MS, Katrina ... I'm just not anything close to who I was back then.  There isn't a speck of innocence left in me.  He was in love with the memory of us and I felt  I shouldn't take that away from him ... no matter how badly he thought he wanted to see me.

I must have read that letter a hundred times but it took me forever to respond to it.  For 2½ weeks I avoided opening my email.  I was still struggling with my dislocated thumb at that time and typing wasn't easy ... but that wasn't why I put it off.  I didn't know what to write to him.  What he was talking about was passion.  Maybe he had been in love with the memory of us but I had worshipped the boy I remembered for years.  I compared all men to him.  To this day, I've never felt about anyone the way I've felt about him all these years.

For years, my journals have been peppered with his name.  For years, I've been attracted to men because they had the same hair color or were the same height or played a particular instrument.  For years I longed for a man to touch me the way he had -- hating them because they couldn't give to me what a boy of fourteen had.  For years, in the arms of another man, I'd closed my eyes and traveled back to those brief moments with him.  I once even dated a man because his name was the same.  When I thought of all those facts, I wondered who was scarier, me or him.

I would repeat to myself over and over, "I want this chance.  I want the chance to find out what could be."  But fear was stronger than desire so I did nothing.  I did nothing for eighteen days and then sent a short letter.  It was much less than he deserved but it was all I could muster.  My heart was too full of fear and what ifs.

"Dearest Paul --

How horrible I feel -- I've been so negligent.  Things have been so hectic, not to mention the fact that my thumb is still giving me problems.  Physical therapy three times a week and the progress has been slow but it's improving slightly.

I have so much to tell you ... so much to say.  I need time to read your last email.  I confess, I haven't been online in quite a while.  Email can be so daunting.  I sometimes forget that there are times when there is actually something welcome when I open my inbox ... like a letter from you. 

When I have some time and a little more privacy than I do at this moment, I promise you I will answer your email.  Just seeing it makes my heart pound -- little beads of moisture break out on my temples and the back of my neck.  How does it feel to know that you still have that affect on me after all these years?

Please forgive me for being so negligent, although you must know I didn't mean to be.  There's not a thing I'd rather do than drift into what we had and have.  Real life is so ... real, let's say.

I adore you.  I hope that you will remember that always.

With love ... Friday"

"I need time to read your last email."  Little did he know I had already read it dozens of times.  I nearly had it committed to memory.  After all the beautiful things he had written to me and all I responded with was a few sentences devoid of even a hint of passion.

Again I stared at the "Send" button and wondered if I should answer at all.  What was I doing?  What did I expect?  If I keep this correspondence going, am I toying with him?  Or, am I giving him the opportunity to toy with me?  Reason lost.  With hope that he wouldn't give up on me before I could make up my mind, I hit "Send".

Later that night, standing before the mirror, I studied my mouth -- slightly turned up at the corners as I whispered his name ... "Paul".  Fifty-four years old -- feeling like a school girl -- remembering what it was like to be a teenager, developing a crush on a boy that would last a lifetime.

** note **

I spoke with Paul recently.  He told me he had read my Forever Love posts.  He made me laugh when he said, "I can't wait to find out what happens!"  Neither me, Paul, neither me.

Is it a bad thing to ask for what you need?

 

Several weeks ago my doctor ordered blood tests to determine if I was becoming diabetic.  Good news, no diabetes but the results revealed my potassium level was in the danger zone and my kidney function is decreasing.  I discussed it with my doctor.  We decided that I would change my diet and re-test.  I went in last week for the re-test and was told to call this morning for the results.  I called this morning ... so far, no news. 

I'm anxious.  I've always thought that making patients wait one minute longer than necessary to hear test results was cruel.  The longer I wait, the more anxious I become.  Wait, did I say anxious?  I'm just good old fashioned scared.

I'll update if and when I hear from the doctor's office.

-- edit --

Mr. Man sleeps as my panic mounts.  This has always been one of my loneliest times in recent years -- waiting for test results.  I should be used to it by now ... but I'm not.

-- 2:31PM --

If you saw me now, my shoulders heaving from sobs that I can't contain, would you think less of me?

-- 6:23PM--

Cried myself to sleep.  When I woke, the house was dark and no call had come from the doctor's office.  They will see my face tomorrow and it won't be a happy one.  I'm no longer stressed ... I'm angry.  I'm usually very patient but this is different.