The Spa Guy Cometh

Nothing special to talk about today. Oh, except for the exceptionally cute spa repair guy that arrived to perform a diagnostic on my spa. Cue the "bow chica wow wow" 70's metal porn guitar sound. Bring on the dirty jokes, "He can use his chemical stick to check my PH balance anytime!" Look for it, look for it...there it is...the lascivious thoughts, the giggles, the quick flirty glances...too bad he was young enough to be my son. Sigh. He was the quintessential California golden boy cute.

It's not my fault I kept drooling. He insisted on gazing into my eyes with his piercing blue eyes while he explained the spa was working fine. I only perked up when he said the service call was good for a month and I should call him as quickly as possible if something should happen. Really? Did he feel as drawn to me as I to him? Honestly, I think he was flirting with me.

Yeah, right. He was a nice guy. Too young and too aware of his own charms. It was a nice 20 minutes, though. I almost, almost felt guilty when I handed over the $75 check for his visit. I was a naughty girl since I'd been having all those NC-17 thoughts about the spa guy. Bow chica wow wow!!

A Stinkin' Rose

Shhh. I'm hiding from myself. Today was another one of those days when I looked at myself in the mirror and said, "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you a grown woman with her own opinions or are you a big, waa waa baby?" Um, today, I was a BIG waa waa baby.

It started out as a normal outing with my folks. Shopping at S Mart ("..shop smart, shop S MART"* (can you guess the movie?)) for a few garden items. Dad and I perused the various succulents, the odoriferous herbs, the vibrant florals...and there I saw them...English Daises. Delicate, petite flowers with a burst of golden yellow in the middle surrounded by rich, velvety colours of deep maroon, baby pink; with stripes of ruby so red, it was almost black. In short, them was some purty flowers.

I told my Dad, "Hey, I like those. They'd look great in planters beside the patio furniture. Let me grab 3 or 4 of them." My Dad looked at me, looked at the plants, and said simply, "No." He attempted to push my wheelchair forward but I, in total shock at being denied my precious flowers, threw what could only be called a tantrum in the most astonishing style...As I shook my head rapidly from side to side, chanting , "...I want them, I want them...give me my pretty flowers!" (oh, I kid you not, this was definitely a moment that disproved I was an adult) my body, in rhythmic tandem, shook in some epileptic dance; my hands moving up and down, my legs flailing in crazy synchronicity. Ahhh...my poor Mom, who had a front row view of my tamtrum, was in a word, stunned. She slowly moved her head to face away from me, then pushed her cart as far from me as she could. I saw her shoulders shaking and thought I'd made her cry. It wasn't until I heard strange snorting noises from behind me did I realize my parents were laughing at me - hysterically.

Mom turned her cart back towards Dad and I, still laughing. "Guess you want those plants pretty badly, huh?" she asked me, trying to catch her breath. Dad said, "Do ya think they have security cameras out here and maybe we could get a copy of the tape?" I asked them both (quite innocently, I thought), "Why? Did I look funny?" Before they could answer, an older gentlemen in the aisle beside us said very quietly, "Yes." OH. NO. Mortification set in, then raucous laughter. I could not stop laughing at myself. I don't know if it was pent-up tension that needed releasing or frustration at being told "no" as if I were a child that well, made me act like one.

Dad loaded up six of the plants, taking care to pick only the healthiest to bring home to become part of my lovely garden. I don't advocate my behavior but there is something to be said of the effectiveness of a good, ol' fashioned hissy fit.

*10 points if you guessed this line from Army of Darkness. Go Bruce Campbell!!

Chasing windmills

My 46th birthday is about two months away. 46. Wow. The downside of 45, sliding into 50. 50! Ack!! Where did the years go? I mean, I can look at an article of clothing, a purse or a pair of shoes and can almost pinpoint the moment I bought it and took my prize home. But time? It's been whirling past me.

Remember that indestructible feeling between 18 and 23? You knew everything and anything about life. No one could tell you what to do - because you had all the answers. And that period from 25 - 30 when you finally settled into the thought of being a responsible adult. The 30's was the time to make a whole new set of mistakes. Bad hair, bad shoes, bad relationship choices...but it was okay because we rebounded faster. We were more confident, sure in our knowledge that the right guy wasn't too far out of reach. (By the way, I'm talking to the ladies that didn't marry young, like my sister. She was 21 when she fell in love, married with a baby at 22. Her opinions about dating, when she offers them, are constantly laughed off. She found her true love at a young age. They're still married, even happier, and while they have their problems, they're in for the long haul.) I remember when I turned 35 and realized that I had invested so much time into making a career for myself that I hadn't dated anyone in a long time. It was a big surprise. One day I looked up and bam! 35 and single. With no prospects. I didn't panic but it was the first time I thought that maybe I wasn't going to find my forever love. That was a pretty sobering experience.

Now, here I am at almost 46 and my situation is even more complicated. I wonder if I will ever find someone that will look past the wheelchair, the scars and all the baggage that comes with this injury and see me. I've talked about it before, I know, only this time it's hitting me differently. I'm not talking about finding my forever love, how about my right now love? I find myself wanting more for me. And it's not anymore different than what so many other people out there are looking for in life.

So, 46 and single. Whooda thunkit? Certainly not me. I guess the 40's are when you put together a whole new set of dreams...and balance them with the reality of your life. I mean, I don't feel like Don Quixote or anything. I'm not chasing an impossible dream; at least, I don't think so.

Pucker up

Some days the lemon popsicle represents all that is perfect in life. Sweet, tart, icy cold, invigorating and satisfying.

Dreyer's lemon fruit bars - Perfect ending to a lovely day.

U Turn

Since I returned from my holiday travels, my leg has been fired up - and not in a good way. I've been to see my doctors a few times and the general consensus is that my subcutaneous nerves are waking up. A long 3 1/2 year nap and the damn things are letting it known that they are not happy. I'm actually longing for the incredibly mind numbing coma of the pain killers I had a few years ago. I only want those babies for their ability to make me sleep - and not wake up until I've rested a good 10 hours. Lately, I'm lucky if I can squeeze in 3-4 hours of sleep. I'm whining, I know. What's been worrying me is that the doctors told me this could last anywhere from 8 months to a year, plus my leg was so damaged, it could take longer. Sigh. Oh, and did I mention that my nerves might stay at their present hot poker, ants on fire, jab jab jab fun box?

I haven't felt the urge to write because I've been focusing all my energy into dealing with the pain. It's different than what I've been experiencing in the past few years, so I'm having to adjust. Not easy. I make sure that I keep to my schedules, get out as much as I can, and exercise. I have spent more days in bed, though. Only two weeks ago I stayed in bed for 3 days. It hurt too much to move.

Have you ever heard about the Roman god Janus? He represents beginnings and endings; he has two faces: one looking back to the past, the other facing forward, to the future. Does that make it easier to understand if I say that I've got a Janus on my back? I've had to remember the pain in the past to help me deal with my current, and future pain. Ack.

Through it all, though, life is good. I've said this several times: my journey is bittersweet. There are many things that I can no longer do but there are many more things I'm able to do now. I spend more time with my family and friends; I value every second I am with them. Sure, they can irritate the hell out of me but that's okay; for every irritation is balanced with a lovely moment. I'm much more calmer, I don't feel the need for drama, I enjoy my solitude - I don't need to fill in all my minutes with things to do, people to see or endless wasted hours babbling on the phone. I love to just sit in my backyard and listen. I never made time for anything like that before. My folks have been working on my garden, now when I throw open the curtains in the morning, the first thing I see are the gorgeous flowers they've planted all over my patio and yard.

So yes, I've had to look back for me to see the future...and I think I like it that way.