Timber!!!!

Here we are, a full 31 days past the new year. A whole month. Puxitawny Phill will poke his head out of his hole tomorrow and tell us how much longer we must wait for spring to begin or winter to end, which ever comes first. My personal first sign comes on New Years day when my husband ushers the Christmas tree out of the corner and into its box (we decided last year to go artificial.) The traditional Out with the Old. But as previously stated, it's 31 days later and my Christmas tree still sits in the corner. I took the decorations off weeks ago, unplugged the lights two weeks ago. And yet, there it still sits.

My sister laughingly, said "it's a loverly tree, you should keep it up and just decorate it for each holiday and season." I contemplated doing just that as a way to spur Ducky into breaking it down and boxing it up. I'm mean surely that would do it right? No, I plugged in the lights again (it's prelit) and he just wanted to know why I lit the tree.

Well surely he'll come to an embarrassing moment that will egg him to finally yell timber,and then have at 'er. No that moment came and went last weekend with the usual Saturday morning visit of our very neighborly friend, Mr. Whisker. Always a joy, he shows up coffee mug in hand to discuss the latest real estate market trends, weather, computers and what nots. After that visit I think the tree may stay forever.

"We once, kept our decorated tree up for two or three years." Mr. Whiskers is apparently of no help. Those two or three years must have left a devastating mark on him. Did I mention he had to leave Washington state for some dark nefarious reason, and that he is now married to a different woman? A delightful Jehovah's Witness (pinky swear spit.) I'm not saying he married Mrs. Whiskers (au deux) just because she's JW (that would just be rude) she's a very lovely lady. But there being no threat of a Christmas tree being propped in the corner hung with snowmen in July must have it's attractions. Mr. Whiskers must have felt my dispare, because they drove out of town for the week immediately upon delivering his bit of post Christmas cheer. I'd burn his mail that I am picking up for him daily, but that would be a federal offense.

There's no time to decorate for Phil, I mean where do you buy little stuffed ground hogs? But Valentine's day is coming up. I have spun glass hearts in my Christmas ornament box (an apparent gift of forethought from my sister years ago) that I can take back out and use in tribute to this lover's holiday. Maybe go buy some pink and red gossamer ribbons and little cupids. I mean really, if you can't beat then join them. A few birds nest, maybe some silk crocus, daffodil, and tulip to celebrate spring, and of course coloured eggs and a vested hare or three. No ducks, there will be no cute little ducks, because well Ducky would take that as validation of his success at not removing the former Christmas tree.

My husband has a friend who puts up her Christmas tree in October, no lie. Mauve also keeps it up months later. It's an epidemic. Egg nog anyone?

Cele

The First...And Worst Of Three

The B4B gauntlet was tossed - write about an ex. I really wanted to write something totally positive. I read a few of the entries so far and was really impressed. Could I find a way to make a negative situation positive, when the only good thing that came of it was a wonderful daughter? We'll see.

The First and Worst of Three

Where we've been is who we are. This is my mantra. The benchmark by which I measure myself and consider what makes others tick. That means my ex’s have helped mold me into today’s woman. That’s right one husband, two ex’s, three mothers in law. One daughter, two step daughters,and three dogs. They are all a part of who I have become.

Ronnie? My first love, the boyfriend that got away? Does he ever think about me, because he’s indelibly tattooed on my heart, soul, and psyche? He is the want I have deep in my heart. He was benchmark that all males had to surpass. But we never knocked boots, never did the deed, never got down, dirty, and nasty. Hmmmm, maybe that is why I became the town slut. It was a heart breaking job, but someone had to do it. It helped mold me and believe it or not, it is something of which I’m kind of happy about.

No, we’ll go with mate number one. Despite it all ending on a very sour note, there had to be a good beginning. A moment in time when my heart and head collided to say he is the one. Okay, it didn’t happen that way at all. It was two moments separated by time and space….and people present.

My family had just made the thousand- mile trek from southern California to the small coastal Oregon town where I still live. I was 17, trying to rise out of the destruction that was my former life. Given the opportunity to change who I am and will become, the proverbial path chosen. I dropped my first name, developed a wise mouth attitude and sense of humor, and survivor mentality (which in hindsight was left over from my LA existence.) Sitting in the back of the school bus with several new “friends” I saw a cool fifty-three Chevy panel wagon and proclaimed to all within ear shot, “I’m going to marry him, there is my future husband.” Within a month or so my father, upon making acquaintances with area businessmen would come home and proclaim, “You’re never to have a relationship with that Wilcox, boy.” So I went out and married him. But wait, I’m rushing things.

That Wilcox boy was tender and sweet looking, with a wild streak that drove the area police officers crazy. He had soft velvet brown eyes with a sad droop, a quick laugh, and loping walk; he was taller than me. He’d dropped out of school at 16 and began fishing, a dangerous and hard working profession he soon gave up for roofing. Which if you’ve ever roofed you’ll know is a hard working and dangerous profession if you don’t’ have a sense of balance. He never seemed the quitter, he never seemed lazy, he never seemed hateful.

A year after that first sighting we finally met, fell in lust, and moved to Portland. All seemed happiness and light. He worked nights, I worked days, and we had crazy sex in between. Then he lost his job and proposed to me. He joined the service, we got married, and I found out I was pregnant. It was to become a series of important events for which he was never there. But I understood he was in the service. First he was three thousand, then six thousand miles away. I suffered (and so did my family) an extremely long and painful pregnancy, which ended with the birth of a beautiful, large baby girl, and the loss of her twin. He was still at the Proving Grounds, I understood he was in the service, sending me a hundred dollars a month while I lived with my parents.

I really should have seen it coming, hindsight is so clear.

Two weeks after our daughter was born, he was shipped out to Germany. On Easter morning 1976 with our two month old daughter in arms, I flew to Germany to be with our man. I found baby sitting jobs and was soon caring for six other kids, raking in good money during the days while he worked. It all went into the same bank account and he loved the children. But it was taking a toll on me. The answer came in the way of a job at a near by mess hall. He was not a happy camper, long shifts meant I wouldn’t be home, my cousin would care for our daughter, and I would be making more money than he did.

I didn’t see the changes in him. As long as I didn’t interfere with his television all was peaceful. His drinking increased from one or two a night, to a six pack. But you know, “you can’t be an alcoholic to beer.” I’m not sure where he bought that logic, but I couldn’t change his mind and make him see. Our first Christmas party in Germany he spent passed out in the backroom by the keg. New Years he spent passed out in the poolroom of a Gaus Haus where we’d gone with friend to ring in 1977.

There were good times. Barbecues with friends every Sunday afternoon, picnics at the lake – again with friends. Trips to Heidelberg, Munich, Karlsruhn, Frankfurt, Ulm, and other points of interest, that surprisingly all had beer festivals going on during our visit. He was becoming infamous among our friends for passing out at concerts.

I didn’t see the drugs. I didn’t’ see, well yeah I did but was clueless, the girlfriends. Then one night in July of 1977 it all came to a crashing crescendo, when in the wee hours I was awoken to him straddled across my chest trying to choke the life out of me. I’m a fighter. I’d survived LA, I’d survived rape, I’d survived not being popular, hell, I’d survived being me, I definitely was going to survive him.

Two days later he showed up at the mess hall begging forgiveness. I’d seen the writing on the wall. Now was the time to walk, but I was stuck in Germany with a man who hated me. He had my passport, our daughter’s passport and all the money. I had to work to save money for our plane tickets home, it took three months. I found friends who became my support system, my refuge from his wrath…

…Until the night before our flight to freedom. The plane was scheduled to take off at 5:30am, he came home to repeatedly dump out my luggage and take anything he’d thought was ours or his. Then he knocked my head into the cement floor until I faked unconscienceousness and he left. I feared his return, I feared his not returning, and I definitely feared missing our plane. But he did show up, he did drive us to the airport, and I did get on a plane with our daughter, a suitcase of her clothes and two dollars and nine marks in my purse. I’m a survivor. I landed in New York and called my mom. She is my hero.

I’m not afraid of my first ex anymore. He has no power over me. I rue that he has the ability to screw up my daughter to this day. He’s switched from beer to Night Train, he’s been married three times and divorced three times, none of his children talk to him for long. He is lonely, he is sad, he is still a nasty drunk. But once upon a time there was this sweet guy with puppy dog eyes who loved to race the wind. Now he just races to his bong.

I, on the other hand survived, and grew.


© 6 January 2006 Calista Cates

MeMe'd 7X7

Joss, Joss, Joss you are so inspiring. So if you're not the ever pretty Joss, check out Faster Than Kudzu and be inspired to blog on. 7 x 7 is a list of seven with seven even though with Joss it's often 5 things. I will try to limit myself to seven

Seven Things To Do Before I Die -

1) Repay my parents for the wonderful things they have done for me, for all they have taught me, for the morals they instilled in me. (This had been number five)
2) Get to PA to meet my bestest, because I've never met my very best friend. My daughter introduced us wow almost seven years ago. So that is, well, kind of an omen. Now I'm scared.
3) Travel the world, because, well why stop at just a few places.
4) Become more tolerant of stupid people.
5) Get my Christmas cards and packages out before the appropriate Christmas - no not New Years - Christmas. But the Kahlua is all made.
6) Figure out a plot for my story, or gather enough good poetry to publish a tome.
7) Create world peace

Seven Things I Can Not Do:

1) Like snakes, it just will never happen. No way in heck. They slither in my nightmares, they keep me from applying for Survivor (well that an my zip code size butt.)
2) Lie without it driving my conscience crazy.
3) Purposely be mean to people.
4) I can not fix the FM transmitter
5) I don't want to fix the AM transmitter
6) I can't get past chapter 7 of my story
7) I can't think of an ending

Seven Things That Attracted Me To My Husband

1) His wonderful smile
2) His kindness (he hides this behind a wall of stubborness, because he doesn't want people to think he is nice, but he is wonderfully kind and generous.)
3) He thinks I'm fluffy.
4) He calls me Fritz.
5) He lets me fix Rotortiller, roof the house, lay flagstone (did you know cement eats your skin? not pretty,) built a brick wall, and put in the insulation, but wouldn't let me wire the new room.
6) He charms babies, my mother, and my daughter.
7) He has a fabulous sense of humor.
8) Man can he kiss (ooh I'm hottttt)

Seven Things I Say Most Often

1) Thank you
2) I appreciate you
3) Would you pick up another can of Mocha Roca?
4) No my Christmas cards aren't done.
5) Hit control, alt, delete (maybe this should be number 1)
6) You're listening to KCST, FM 106.9 (no this really should be number 3)
7) My name does not mean come here right this minute.

Seven Books I Love

1) Lord Of The Rings
2) Sense and Sensibility
3) Pride and Prejudice
4) The Stand
5) Wives and Sisters
6) gods of Alabama
7) The Wolf and the Dove

Seven Movies I Would (and do) Watch Over and Over

1) Sense and Sensibility
2) The Mirror Has Two Faces
3) A Christmas Carol
4) Lord of the Rings
5) Any thing Sandra Bulloch (well almost except forces of nature and hangman, oh shivers)
6) Pride and Prejudice
7) Sliding Doors

Seven People I Want To Join In

1) anyone