BACK TO WRITING

Today is the perfect Fall day, the sun is warm and the sky crisp blue with a light slightly cold breeze that comes up about every 20 minutes or so – a perfect afternoon to write a story, then take the dog for a hike around the lake.  I thought about a few things this week while Elisabet came to stay, some redhead musings from the rattling of my mind.  With Elisabet in my home, we finish the days with a glass of wine, place our bare feet up upon the coffee table and discuss our lives.  Her life is that of wife, mother and self-employed businesswoman living away from her ring of friends and mine is that of the divorced single mom, self-employed businesswoman dreaming of another life living away from Santa Rosa.

 

Interwoven within the folds of my life are the dreams I have for my son, which mostly boil down to his happiness, peace and contentment.  It is a tough call as a parent to try and chose between your own dreams and their wishes and how the two affect our kids.  It is like staring at several closed doors, wondering if you walk through one of them, how the world behind will look, will your children like it and bloom there.  Sometimes the toughest choice is to make no choice, to stare at the doors and wait while your kids enjoy this moment of time they are in.

 

This is one of the many reasons I chose not to settle into the dating world with a man.  I still haven't walked through one of those doors and moved on to my next life.  Many people are concerned with hooking up with someone to the point that their kids become the lesser issue.  When I date a man and his behavior forces a choice of Brian being a lesser issue, the guy must go. 

 

Being with someone for the sake of being with someone has never been my dating mantra.  I like my time alone, it is wonderful to do your own thing. 

 

However, if any men are interested in the mistakes made with single mothers, I can certainly tell you some.... read on.

 

C

BEST FRIENDS

My best friend Elisabet is in town and staying with me ths week, which leaves me no time to write.  It is wonderful having her here, she gets up before dawn, makes coffee and leaves it on my nightstand, so I wake up to the smell of hot coffee and can roll over to my first cup ... now that is a wonderful friend.

She always heals my soul ... how lucky am I.

BOO!

There are many that love the hoopla of Halloween parties, the dressing as ones alter ego, the going out and raising hell and ringing in Daylight's Savings like some New Years summer-is-over celebration for sun worshipers bidding farewell to long days filled with blue skies.

It's mole time.

I love Halloween, but not for it's parties and drinking tradition.  For me, I find the parties too much the "amatuer hour", like St, Patrick's Day, where people drink too much and think nothing of spilling a drink down your back or over your shoes. 

What I really love, is scaring the kids.  This is a holiday about the best part of being a child.  The ability to be excited and scared (in a safe enviornment) at the same time.   Don't you remember?   It's like the dark nights of hide and go seek when we hid under a bush or behind a car, heart racing, listening for the soft  tapping sound of someones approaching feet, ready to run at a moments notice.

Each Halloween, when the night turns dark and the goblins come out, we take Brian to this historic street in Santa Rosa, where my favorite Alfred Hitchcock movie was filmed....Shadow of A Doubt.  This large tree-lined street, where many have grass sidewalks and cobblestone steps, old porch swings and verandas host Halloween trick or treating in its finest tradition.

(http://history.sonoma.lib.ca.us/images/p590424.jpg)

The Street is McDonald Avenue, a grand lady of a street with a rich Santa Rosa history.  Every year, the residents decorate their homes, creating  "themes"  for halloween.  People come from all over to trick or treat and most of the adults dress up as well.  There is everything from the Hauted Dentist chair, to flying bats, to the Bates Hotel,  to the dead guy who tries to grab you when you reach for candy. and much more.

The street has old fashioned street lights so it is difficult to see those in front of ou, adding to the Halloween experience. 

To give you a feel for the avenue:

http://www.mcdonaldmansion.com/history.htm

http://www.norcalmovies.com/Scream/scream11.jpg

http://history.sonoma.lib.ca.us/images/p450150.jpg

http://history.sonoma.lib.ca.us/images/p738440.jpg

http://history.sonoma.lib.ca.us/images/p441206.jpg

http://history.sonoma.lib.ca.us/images/p600763.jpg

http://history.sonoma.lib.ca.us/images/p408403.jpg

Brian was done at an hour - looked at me and said, "I have enough candy, can we just go home now?  My feet hurt."  God I love this kid. 

We returned home, I built a fire while he showered and put on jammies and we sat down to read Sleepy Hollow.  He fell asleep leaning against my chest and I realized these years are quickly slipping from my grasp and pretty soon he won't even be sitting 'in my pocket' anymore.  Our children grow up too fast.  These are the times I wish I had married better and had four more  behind Brian ... I could be doing Halloween for another 10 years or more.

I can hear Tracie out there with her 5 kids yelling "ARE YOU NUTS????!!!"

Um yeah, but we all know that.

Until next time-

C

PLAYOFFS

Cross your fingers and toes ... today is game 1 of Brian's football playoffs.  This is a tough team 5-1; Brian's is 4-2.

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

Tags: football, redhead bloggers, mommy bloggers, rapieress

HAIR HANGOVER

Ever wake up after a beautiful cut and style, wash your hair and suddenly find your hair rejecting you?  Guys don't have this problem I am sure.

Last night I looked like a sleek wild cat leaving the salon, today, on my own I look like Cruella Deville.  How did that happen?

New haircut hair hangover, which will last about 3 weeks.

Could really freak a date out ...

C

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

Tags: A Week In the Life of A redhead, rapieress

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OK CALL ME AN IDIOT

But... why in the hell did vacationing Americans stay in Cancun and in Eastern Mexico when they were warned a hurricane was coming, and are now pissed because they are stuck there?

Excuse me?

They look like complete idiots.  Wouldn't you stop your vacation at the first hint a hurricane is coming your way and return home?  Let's see.... based on Katrina and Rita... it wasn't going to be that bad...?

Give me a break.

I want to fly down there just to slap them myself.  Roll up your designer sleeves and go to work helping the Mexicans rebuild their life...you stayed and are a burden to their emergency aide.  You should help instead of whine ...you CHOSE to stay.  Last I knew, the word vacation involved being something voluntary that one chooses to participate in and may end at any time.

Oh and those of you down there that stayed with your kids... WHAT??????? ... for that extra day of surfing ...? …  Margaritas …? ...you should be shot.  I am still not over the guy on the news who told reporters that he felt the US Military should fly down in helicopters and pick him up.  Um, did you happen to notice you are in a foreign country when you took that vacation sparky?

I can’t watch them on the news anymore they make me ashamed.

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

 

BUILD IT AND HE WILL COME...

Shoeless Joe...may you now rest in true peace.

 

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

NEW HAIR = NEW ...

Pleasure to some can be had on the big surf, the takeover of a company, the first steps of a child, racing a car over 150 mph, the smell of a fresh flowers and a child's laugh.

I can't argue, because each to its' own.  But tonight I took pure pleasure in spending girl’s night with Danielle, my hair stylist.  She is a thin, exotic brunette, born the day before me and should advice the world with her wry sense of self and the world at large.

Getting your hair cut from Danielle is truly a religious experience.  While remaking the new you she helps you shed the old.  With each lock of hair that drops to the floor, your life releases the frizzy haired crap that has been keeping you down.

She opens her salon late, and takes me in to the quiet world of a closed beauty salon.  "What do you want to become?" she asks, knowing that my answer holds the key to what she will artistically create.

"I am wanting to change my life something drastic" I respond.  Danielle is a wizard of hair design who never accepts your first comments without getting you to tell all of your life.

"How is Brian...?...how is working with your x...?...are you getting back with him...?... what brings you pleasure...?...what is making you sad...?...who are you sleeping with...?" and so on.  From this party wrapping that is the cover of your life, she begins to dream your next life present wrap.

Encompassed with a trim she offers up short minuets of her impressions on life.  We spent almost 3 hours laughing and talking while she cuts my locks and applies some hair dye.  Upon completion, my hair is shorter, thinner and lased with purple reds and champagne pinks...it's wild and very artistic.  My hair looks like a Picasso cat...a wild cat.

I like it.

Now I am a wild cat stalking my own life...how perfect.

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

Yes, I do have more to write on the dating subject, but have not had time this week.  I have a girls night tonight, so I will try and write more by this weekend.  Thanks for your inquiries.

C

I can add that I can't shop in Safeway either.  Last evening I was in Safeway and ran into my x husband, Brian's best school friend and his father, someone I used to work with, and yes, a guy I once dated, who upon seeing me talking with my x was convinced I was still with my x.  I think I should go to Sacramento to buy groceries...

"Do not let the shadow of a redhaired person fall upon you. It will bring you bad luck".

– ancient celtic superstition

TAKE ME OUT TO THE BALLGAME

This weekend the Fall Classic slides into view, it is the baseball super bowl – the World Series.  I have heard it said that the US wouldn’t have much interest due to the teams involved…are you kidding me?  Anyone that loves baseball, the all-American sport, will love this series.

Who can forget the 1919 World Series, which resulted in the most famous scandal in baseball history? Eight players from the Chicago White Sox were accused of throwing the series against the Cincinnati Reds.  To this day, no one really knows the complete story and baseball fans still feel sadness in not knowing how the great "Shoeless" Joe Jackson’s career might have played out. White Sox haven’t been in a series since 1959 and their last championship came in 1917.

This is the first World Series for the Houston Astros, an organization 44 years young, from a city that opened its arms wide for those displaced by Hurricane Katrina. Oh and they have…Roger Clemens…not to mention Houston is the hometown of one of my Mr. Bigs.  So yeah I am torn as to which team to root for.  I love Chicago, and loved training there.  I hate the Houston airport and every airplane flight I have ever missed was there.

How do I know about baseball?  I am an Irish lass and it runs in my family.  Remember, one cousin played for the Yanks the other for the Twins way back in the early big hair days of the 80’s.  Frankly, I would prefer Brian played baseball over football, since it a sport his dad can’t coach…

I am not a big fan of baseball on TV.  I think it is a sport that needs to be felt and experienced within the walls of a baseball stadium.  What I love about this series (besides the fact the Yankees aren’t in it even though Derek Jeter is a hunk and a half) is the two teams out of nowhere - the lost but not forgotten.  It is the American story:  stick around long enough, work hard enough and don’t let go of a dream for eventually you just might make it to the big league of your life.

I enjoy stories of redemption.  The White Sox, formally nicknamed the Black Sox are back trying to erase the stigma of their baseball forefather's past.  It is the story of a second chance … I love second chance comeback stories.  As we all know… I am working on my own. 

Let’s play ball.

“There have been only two geniuses in the world.  Willie Mays and Willie Shakespeare”.  ~Tallulah Bankhead

C

SIDEBAR: There is my funny baseball story of how I got mad at Kent Herback, who was my cousin Larry's best friend.  Larry pitched, and Kent was the first baseman.  While having dinner with Larry and Kent (because Larry was excited for me to meet the up and coming first baseman) Larry kicked me hard under the Round Table Pizza table - you know, one of those 'play nice' kicks only a relative can give you. I still got mad at Kent anyways ... call it a redheaded thing. 

[Kent liked talking about himself in third person, and after an hour of listening to him brag about himself in third person I got mad ...ok...so I wasn't completely mean]

After telling Kent he was a big bore and would never amount to much (oiy - me when I am mad),  Larry would mail me success newspaper articles about Kent from the road, with his "the future x husband you passed up" markings accross the top. 

Imagine my shock when he signed for 4 million one year.  It was even front page SF Cronicle news.  Still didn't make me like Kent better ... true redheads can't be bought ... at any price.

God how I adore my cousin Larry.  He always understood just how to treat me.  He would have been a great baseball idol for kids.  I remember how I loved watching him, tired after a game, signing autographs for the kids.  He really took the time to talk with them, take photos - whatever they wanted.  I would stand there watching him, my own hero, so proud that he was my cousin.  He was like my dad, fitting that he was my dad's youngest sister's son ... a son of a redhead ... my dad's nephew.  Larry was always kind, even when we were little kids.

He told me later on that Kent got very sick with meningitis, which pretty much ended his pro career, and for some reason I felt bad, really bad.  I know how much Larry liked him as a friend, so he probably was a good man, just needed the arrogance to play ball.  Larry said for a long time Kent would say "How's your feisty cousin?" and they would laugh. Larry has a redhead for a mom and an Aunt - he should have warned the guy.

If I can find some photos of Larry and my other cousin Stacy, in their early pitching days, I'll scan them and post them here.It's been too long since I have had my dose of Larry.  The series always brings the memories flooding back.

Happy guys?  I actually wrote something very guy oriented ... yes ...I do like SOME 'guy' things.... I can think of one right now...

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

REDHEAD POETRY

If you love a Redhead, set her free.

If she refuses to speak one word to you, pitches a fit on your front lawn and puts your new date in the hospital...

She's yours.

If not, she never was.

CATHERINE'S NAVY

Military strategy is a collection of sciences that govern the conduct of warfare, one being tactics, the execution of plans and maneuvering of forces in battle.  I have not served in the military, but I can tell you I have used the strategy of tactics in the art of avoiding men I have dated when out in public more times than I can count.

Last night I practiced the art of employing my tactical maneuvering ability within the isles of Albertson’s grocery store.  Why is it, I ask you, that when I feel my worst, or am dressed in my oldest sweats, or I’ve just run out the door without make-up with my hair looking like Phyllis Diller's, that I manage to run into a guy I used to date?  I could save myself a lot of anguish if I always dressed my best, looked my best and never left the house looking like Brian’s dog drug me around by my hair on the kitchen floor, then I would never ever see any of the guys I have dated. 

I bet you that I could win 40 million dollars in the lottery, drive everywhere in my new Porsche with George Clooney at my side and never ever ever ever  (did I type ever?) ever run into a guy that knew me when I drove that wood paneled pinto.  Life just doesn’t work that way for me.

Why, I have no idea.

Last night I decided to pick up a few quick groceries at Albertson’s because it is near Brian’s football practice.  I usually prefer a smaller market in the middle of town which is fast (and I don't see men I know).  I was in old jeans, tennis shoes, and an old sweatshirt.  I spent the day hiking 5 miles and moving office furniture around, so my hair was a mess and I didn’t have make up on my face.  I have pale ruddy Irish skin, which would look creamy great if I lived in the dense fog and damp, but in sunny California, it makes my skin look more like a spotted slug.  So let's just say, I am a girl that looks better with make-up on.

I dash into Albertson’s, grab a cart and race for my few 8 or less items.  It will be the quick check-out for me.  I am almost done shopping, when I think “Maybe Brian would like roast beef sandwiches” and turn my cart toward the Deli section.  I round a corner heading straight for the Deli and glance up ahead, suddenly I slowly focus on a guy saying something to his young son.  The man turns his head revealing the side of his face. My heart leaps out my mouth and falls on the floor, rolling ahead of me.  Oh Shi*, it’s Oscar... I am about to bump right into a guy I dated some time ago.

I think there should be an Olympic event for grocery cart maneuvering speed time, because last night would have won me the gold medal.  In just under a second from face recognition to body response, I veered my cart a quick hard right and ran up the isle away from Oscar with a fast walk-run, trying not to be noticed.  It's like I wanted some new Newton's theory of mass to render me invisable because I turned my back on the target at hand. 

One problem, when forced to do such a maneuver, I am now at the back of the store, with Oscar and checkout at the front. 

Besides the issue of how I look, I don’t want to talk to this guy more than the I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to be nice to him.  I am angry with him, and want to be rude.  When I want to be rude, I want to be in a suit with make up.  Just call me a weird girly-girl that way.

So there I was, stuck at the back of the store when Bob, the very gay and very fun grocery checker comes out of the back “Hi Doll” he says.  “Hi”.  Bob looks at my face, “What’s the matter hon?”  He comes closer.  I explain my dilemma.  He smiles, “Well doll I am about to take over quick check out.  Come with me and I will check you out first.  If you spot him let me know and I’ll create a diversion.  Is he cute?”  There is nothing like getting one’s gay grocery clerk involved in shopping tactic maneauver strategy. He grabs the front of my cart “Worst case, if you run into him tell him you’ve found happiness and have become a lesbian. Say it is his fault,thank him and walk away,” he laughs.  I laugh back as he pulls me safely through the store to the front.

I give him a description of Oscar and he watches my back as I quickly get checked out and pay for my items.  With everything bagged in my cart with no Oscar in site, we high 5 and I race out the door.  There is a triumpth one feels when sucessfully avoiding someone that was once a part of one's life.  I felt like someone should have handed me a blue ribbon.

As I throw the items on my front seat, it dawns on me that I need to date in another town.  Or better yet, move to another town ... even better ... another state. OIY.  I only hope all the manuevering burned an extra 50 calories.

Do I really have to date?

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

DATING PHOBIA

Yes, I have great dates, some really over the top ones, and I suppose I will eventually write their stories here too, but the disastrous ones are much funnier.  If one chooses not to take life too seriously, one can find laughter in most everything ... especially in the search for Mr. or Mrs. Right\Wrong\Maybe.

While working as a Network technician for a start up Telecom Company, Eric hired this older woman (older than me) as a temporary employee.  I think he figured if he had great success with me, why not another woman techie…?  (I’d love to see Eric post a comment right here).

Anyways, a popular R & B band from the bay area was going to be performing at a local hotel club in town and this temp techie asks me to go hear them with her.  I had been spending time with Tony and not getting out as much as I should when Brian was with his dad, so I 'guilted' myself into saying yes.

She arrives at my place two hours early because she is excited to be going out.  She looks like one of those women who stand outside the shopping mall at 6 am the day after Thanksgiving, excited that Christmas shopping has begun and she can finaaly buy everyone that Yule log. I was thinking about canceling, so it was probably a good thing that she showed up too early.

I throw on some jeans and my leather jacket and we end up at the bar before the cover charge is even collected at the door.  This is just way too early for me  ... however ... it did give us the opportunity to pick the best seats in the place.  We did - an eye-level spot next to the entrance to the dance floor, facing the band on high backed bar stools, which put us at standing level.  There are booths below us that back up to our counter, so we can lean over and chat with the people below.  There is an anniversary party group sitting there and they decide to buy us our first round of drinks.  So far so good ...

Eventually the band begins to play and groups of couples, singles and the like begin to slowly fill the seats within the club and a group of “standers’ (people who stand and never sit) mingle behind us.  The dance floor fills with happy dancers as the band meshes to the flow of the night and the hot sounds of the R & B sound blend with the soft roar of chat.   Some of the men of the anniversary group have brought us out on the dance floor, this I can brag about:  I can most definitely dance!! 

I notice towards the end there is this dark haired (yes it is a theme with me) guy watching me from the “standing” group.  I take my chair and he positions his back to me.  I can feel the intensity of him through to my bones and I know where this is going - well before we have ourselves in trouble with eachother.  He turns around and uses my favorite line as if he knows, "Hi. My name is Mark, and you are...?...".  "Catherine" I smile. "You have red hair.  God I love red hair, and you are a great dancer." he smiles back.  GULP.  We proceed to dance every single dance the rest of the night.

Now I could go into a lot of details about how fast this mini-relationship moved, but it would take too long.  Needless to say, he is fresh out of a divorce (not good) and too quick to re-connect with someone (again not good).  But do I listen to reason???  Hell no.  He is a hockey medic who plays hockey and wears one of those berets like he is from another country.  He is damn fine, a lot of fun and probably trouble - the worst combination for me. He is also “In The Meantime”, which is a place that someone is at when he or she is just coming out of a crushing personal blow.  “In the Meantime” people are never good relationship bets for the long term. 

As fast as he is moving and as much as my inner voice is screaming at me to rein him in and slow him down – I don’t.  Redheads often live on the thrill of crash and burn.  “In The Meantime” people can bolt when they move into the “I love…” to quickly and then often wake up with the “Oh my God what have I done - I am so messed up” relationship hangover.  I know – I have been one myself.

But who needs logic when you have a beret wearing, hockey shirt over a six pack, dark haired guy hanging all over you?

Fast forward to Thanksgiving weekend, which hasn’t always been my best time.  I usually try and keep a low profile.  Mark is in Sacramento spending time with his daughter and on Thursday night, stuffed and tired, my girlfriend Keeley calls and invites me to go to her Lake Tahoe condo for the rest of the Weekend.  Oh hell yeh.  I will go home and pack right now.

Never pack at 1 in the morning.

I get up the next day at 6 am, bags packed and ready to go.  I decide to set the alarm on my car and suddenly I can’t find my keys.  Thus begins the great saga of the search for my keys.  Three hours later a pristinely clean house, no keys and no Keeley – my neighbors are starting to help we search the yard.  Anxiety is setting in, as I can’t leave without my house keys or car keys.  I call my x husband to see if he has any of my spare keys.  Even though I have my issues with him, he does always come to help me if I am freaking out and he is not the cause of it.  He shows up in minutes and joins in the search, having me retrace all my steps from the night before.

Keeley calls, she and her husband have been in a huge fight and has taken off – we can’t go to Tahoe – I am relieved since I don’t want to go without my keys.  My neighbors are now combing the bushes and the lawn for my keys.  I am stressing and go into my kitchen, where all my cupboard doors are open from Thanksgiving morning where I painted the trim.  (They were all drying).  Suddenly, I think to look through my garbage can and bend forward without looking – or thinking (apparently).  BOOM! I plant my forehead into the corner of a cupboard…and it sticks.  “God %$#@*&^! **#$” I swear with the yell of twelve, pulling my head back as blood begins to run into my right eye.

My x husband is first to my side “God Dam*it Catherine – I do not wantto spend 6 hours in the emergency room today!”  He drags me into my bathroom and sits me on the stool.  Brian is close behind and reaches under the sink for the first aid kit, handing it to my x. “Let me look at this” he says as he begins to clean the wound as I flinch away from him.  All his years in rugby, my x is pretty good at treating flesh wounds.  He makes a butterfly bandage and places it over the wound, pulling all the torn sides of skin together.  My head is now throbbing like a large kettledrum.  My x walks me to the recliner and tells me to “Just sit!” He calls a locksmith and arranges for him to come out on Saturday and takes Brian, places an ice pack on my head (with strict orders to stay put) and leaves.

Later, Mark calls from Sacramento and is having a hard time dealing with his x.  I tell him what happened and, being that he is a medic, he is concerned about me not having stitches  “Babe, I’ll come back Saturday night instead of Sunday and check on your wound” he says, “I am hating it here and want to see you, plus my daughter has the stomach flu and has been in bed this whole time – that is when she isn’t throwing up” he continues.

Mental note to self:  When man refers to me as ‘Babe’ – something bad is about to happen (even though I love the term).

He insists upon changing his schedule to come back early and silly me, the girl with the throbbing doorknob sized red swollen forehead wants to see him.  I go to bed Friday night, only to have my forehead grow to the size of a baseball.  Saturday night, Mark calls me three times on his way back, excited to be seeing me.  His final call comes, as he is blocks from my place “Babe, I am so in love with you” (Uh what???).  Oh oh.

He comes into my place wearing a hockey shirt, the beret and carrying a Doctors black bag.  He is my best wet dream.  Even better, he kisses me and begins to play doctor.  He removes the bandage and admits that my x did a great job with the butterfly; the scar shouldn’t be too bad.  He re-bandages the wound and puts a special ice pack on my head.  With me fixed up, webegin to really kiss.  But with every race of my heart and hormonal raging it sends throbbing (and I mean throbbing) beats to my head.  Oh the pain!!!

I say nothing about the bulging pain in my forehead cause this guy sooooo turns me on and pretty soon we are rolling around my living room floor.  My head is throbbing so hard I can’t hear us breathe, just as I am about to yell out in pain and say “I can’t do this”, he jumps up, says “Oh my God!", and runs to my bathroom and throws up.  Was it my right breast? Hellooooo....

I pull myself together and go to the door where he sounds like he is throwing the skin up from the bottom of his feet.  I wait for a reprieve, “Mark, are you ok, what can I do?” I say, hoping he says ‘nothing’ because I need to lay my head down.  “Nothing Babe, I think I have my daughter’s flu”.  He then proceeds to throw up for what seems like a half hour more, crawls out of the bathroom, collapses on my bed and passes out.

So much for romance…

I make him comfortable, as he now has a high fever.  I am definitely not sleeping next to him.  He begins to moan and rolls over.  We are suddenly like an old married couple.  I take a pillow and go to the couch to spend the night.  My head is killing me and I have a bad feeling about all this.

At 8:00am on Sunday Mark drags himself out into the living room.  I can tell he feels like crap, but can also tell we have crossed some sort of ‘moved too fast that we look like an old married couple’ threshold.  He is embarrassed and uncomfortable. I don't know what to say.  Oh oh ... I see this is a guy who always likes to appear to have everything under control. Last night, he was not in control...why do I always date control freaks?

He leaves and I strip my bed.  The “Babe I love you” is ringing in my head.  ‘We are in deep shi* Catherine’ I tell myself.  Mark and I continue a few more dates, but it is different now.  He is not thekind of guy that can laugh off a hilarious bad experience.  He can’t relax with it.  He can't get over tha he threw up in front of me.  We are doomed, and eventually have ‘the talk’.  Too fast...too soon ... too much... too scared... too too too.

After spending 500 dollars to re-key my car and my house, I find my lost keys in my bathrobe pocket a week later.

Do I really have to date?

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

Only two things are necessary to keep a redhead happy...

1.     Let her think she is having her own way.
2.     Let her have her own way.

TARGET PRACTICE

Dating for dating sake, although effective for hilarious stories, doesn't really go anywhere and I dislike spending the time with someone that can be better spent doing something for myself or for my son.  I also believe I need to become the person I wish to meet. 

What in the hell do I mean by this?

First, I want to date a healthy guy, so I must be healthy myself.  I went to see the holistic Doctor last week and I am taking a slew of natural herbs that support the endocrine system.  I feel great and my energy level is increasing with each new day, so the visit has created some positive changes.  I began walking every morning – 45 minutes worth – and Brian has decided that he likes walking to school with the dog and me.  What's that you say?  Yes, I have gone from being so sick with Hashimotos that I gave up hiking to walking 45 minutes a day.  It takes Brian, the dog and me 30 minutes to get to Brian's school from our place, then I walk on to my office from there.  So yes, I would say that I am feeling much better, which is an exciting thing.

I have started to balance my system with Alkaline foods, to counter act the effects the thyroid meds have on my liver.  Any guy might be a great guy, but it is selfish to ask someone up front to hang with someone who isn’t well or isn’t managing his or her illness.  Not to mention the fact that I want to be thinking clearly…no dates with voodoo men…

Secondly, I want a guy who is interesting and has a full life. Thus, I need to make sure I am leading an interesting and full life.   I want to go back to college and take a course in something fun ... dance ... creative writing...maybe even a italian cooking and wine class. 

Thirdly, I want a guy with a career and life he loves.  So I need to make sure my career – and what I want to do with the rest of my life – goals are moving along.  The guy must be financially stable so I must be financially stable and move from my current location into a larger place.

Have you ever noticed the type of people you attract into your life when your life isn’t where you want it to be?  It is possible to attract a great person, but not recognize them or be attracted to them because of the headspace you are in when your life is on a down cycle.  (Again – no Mr. Voodoo men…)

I have surrounded myself with great loving friends who emulate the life I am moving towards.  Mr. Right isn’t in the local bar or club, and I have weeded out those friends into that scene.  One friend is pushing me towards golfing with her, which could be a lot of fun.  As I feel better and better I could be talked into attempting golf again.  (Rich tried to teach me, but we fought so I agreed to drive the golf cart and make drinks instead).

If this all works, I’ll write a book: "A Year In The Life Of A Redhead or How I went from illness and despair to supreme health, wealth and happiness in 365 days online"  Nolo Press $23.95.  A New York Times bestseller??

Do I really have to date?

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

LOOK OUT - THE GUYS ARE FALLING.

Ok, so where were we on this question of my dating again?  We know I get in the dating game and jump back out, depending on how it goes out in the dating world.  For some reason whenever I get back out on the dating
circuit, a funny thing happens, in that more than one man asks me out at the same time, and old boyfriends suddenly begin looking me up again.  What is up with that?

It is as if “Guy-dar” kicks in.  Remember my term for men's sixth sense?  Guy-dar is the Catherine term for a man’s mental device or system consisting of a synchronized mental receiver that interprets waves detecting other men moving in on current - old - lost female objects of their affection.  It propels them without clear thought or understanding to contact said female object of their current - old - lost objects of affection.

And I know this has happened to all of you.

I remember when this happened for the first time.  I was in college and just moved out for the 2nd time (it’s ok – my mom was getting re-married) with my good friend Teresa, who is this hilarious petite catholic girl I met at an Oakland Raider party in Cotati.  She is great fun to go places with and has one of the best laughs I have ever had the pleasure to be around.  Her laugh always makes me laugh uncontrollably.

I was 21 when we moved in together.  We had these fabulous, once-a-month Friday night “road trips”, where we would drive to the SF Financial District and meet businessmen.  It was during these times that she met Bob, the attorney from San Rafael with no furnature, but great wind up race toys. I met Gary the worldly tunnel engineer for Morison Knudsen.  I really liked Gary, who by my best guess estimate, was at least 20 years older than me…maybe more.  Gary was my very first Mr. Big.  Tall, dark, brilliant and handsome, with a flat near Coit Tower in SF that had a baby grand piano where he composed music.  Kinda the perfect guy for me...?...

Gary would drive up from San Francisco to take me out on these great dates in his sportscar.  Meanwhile, Rich was showing up at my running nights (Tuesday and Thursdays) and running with me - becoming a very good friend.  When Gary was in Korea for a month (doing something tunnel related) I met Greg while out dancing in SF with Laura and Teresa.  Greg and all his businessmen friends bought us dinner.  That’s one hell of an impressive first meeting. I gave Greg my phone number and he came up the following weekend to help me with a wedding I was coordinating.  (I was a wedding consultant remember?) 

Rich hears this story while running with me and shocks me by asking me out to lunch and then to a Yes concert.  (Is Gary ever coming back from Korea???)   The following weekend, Teresa and I go out dancing at Baxter’s in Larkspur and I meet Mike, a tall dark and handsome financial planner from Brentwood.  I give him my number and he wants to play tennis 'sometime'(I am a terrible tennis player).  What are we up to…4?  Then, as these things go with me, I meet Tom the same weekend, out dancing locally   .... who, by gosh ... is friends with Rich.  And yes, as guy friends go, Tom asks me out. 

Hey, it’s amazing how much we can piss all over our own lives given the proper opportunity.

Gary isn’t gone a month and I have managed to replace him with 4 other men.  Meanwhile, Teresa is watching this and saying, "This can’t go good." (Yeah, that is the understatement of the century).  I liked Gary … A LOT.  He was my number one choice for boyfriend into old age.  Rich was number two, the others I really didn’t care about much at all.

Rich and I go to lunch and the Yes concert and he is moving towards something more serious.  YEIKS. (Good God - AGAIN: is Gary ever coming home???)  I am getting these amazingly wonderful postcards from Korea, which I still have in my love-letter box to this day.  I keep telling Rich that I don't want to ruin our friendship.  What a cop-out full of crap line that one always is.  It's bad enough to have it said to me, but to say it myself was lame.

Have you ever noticed that when something begins to unravel in your life, it is like a quickly unraveling sweater being pulled by a dog ... with the strength of ten dogs ... and jaws of steal... wrapped tightly around the piece of unraveling string...at a run?  All you can do is watch it disappear with your mouth wide open....?  Relate?

Gary comes home on a Friday morning and calls me first thing "Babe, I miss you and have to see you ... dinner tomorrow night?"  My heart is in my throat and I am thrilled he is back home.  I say ok, hang up and realize 'I have to cancel the date with Mike'.  I am terrible at bad news, so of course I don't call Mike right then.  I go with Rich to the Yes concert that Friday night and and put off calling Mike until Saturday.  I end up missing the time Mike leaves to drive to Santa Rosa. Now he is in route to my place ... and so is Gary...this is pre cell phone days folks.

I beg Teresa (on my knees) to answer the door when Mike arrives (hopefully first), tell him my brother was in an accident and I am with my family. (Oh bite me – I suck at lying - so my lies suck!)  Teresa doesn’t like to lie so she is getting mad at me, but agrees to do it, because she is a great friend.  Mike shows up with flowers, as I hide in my walk-in closet upstairs. I could hear his loud voice through the floor, so I know it isn’t going well.  Apparently, he shoved his way in our apartment looked around and stormed out.  Teresa is not happy, "Don’t ever make me do that again!"  I have agreed to clean our place for the next two months...

Gary arrives about 30 minutes afterwards, baring beautiful gifts from Korea.  Teresa leaves to go visit her mom and Gary and I settle in on my couch to catch up.  He is asking what I did the night before…”I went to see Yes” (I can’t completely lie when facing someone).  "Wow cool", he says "With whom?"  "Who? (think on your feet here Catherine) uh with Brenda" (a friend of mine he never sees) I quickly answer.  "Nice" he smiles, and I continue opening the gifts he brought me.  I have missed him and am thinking of how much I like him.  What a great guy...

Then God decides to have a sense of humor.

My phone rings and I get up from Gary’s kisses to answer it.  It’s Brenda – (no shi*).  Not thinking, I say,"Hi Brenda!" as we begin to talk and laugh a bit. I tell her Gary is with me and I have to go.  Gary is now kissing my neck and pulls on the phone and asks to say hi.  Before I realize what is going on, he is talking to Brenda and says, "How did you like the concert last night?"  (Yes, an ‘oh –Fu**’ moment).  Of which Brenda replies "What concert?"  I am officially dead.

He ends up handing the phone back to me and I can see I am in deep trouble by the look in his eyes.  I say goodbye to Brenda and turn to face the music with Gary.  I end up telling him the truth.  His jaw line remained like a steel rod while I spoke.  "You lied to me Catherine" he said.  I can still remember how this comment stuck in the pit of my stomach ... and it wasn’t my first lie of the day.

Gary ends up leaving in a huff and going back home to San Francisco, while I cry over the beautiful gifts he brought me.  I cried for a good hour or more, until the phone rings and the call goes to the answering machine.  I am hoping it is Gary, calling me when he has returned home.  I race towards the phone, only to hear Mikes voice instead.  "Catherine, while sitting in my car on your street, feeling stood up by yoou I couldn't help but notice another guy go into your apartment and Teresa leaving - without him. I figure you are seeing someone else tonight.  You could have been a decent person and just told me to my face".  Slam - he hangs up his phone.  I burst into new tears.  This whole 'dating a bunch of people' thing stinks!  Not to mention how bad I am at it...

Fast forward to Monday night football and no word from Gary.  I call him twice over the weekend, once with a large apology, but no calls back.  Rich calls on Sunday saying he will call again after Monday night football.  Monday night, Teresa (the loving friend and room mate) makes Spanish rice and a galloon jug of red wine for dinner and sits me down in front of an "anti-Monday Night Football" night to somehow try and cheer me up.  She liked to put on The Scarecrow and Mrs. King on TV and make fun of it like Mystery Science Fiction Theatre.

She was successful in making me laugh and at the end of the show, the phone rings.  Teresa answers it, sets down the receiver and walks over to me "It’s Rich" she says.  I go over, pick up the phone and say "Is Monday night football over already?  And please tell me the Raiders lost". 

"Catherine ..." this voice says over the phone, as I suddenly realize it isn’t Rich.  I put the receiver over my stomach and call softly to Teresa,"THIS IS NOT RICH!"  She puts her hand over her mouth and busts out laughing, then mouths back is a loud whisper, "WHO IS IT???"  I mouth back, "I DON’T KNOW!" as I feel "Catherine!" vibrating into my belly.  I put the phone back to my ear as the guy says, "Tell Teresa this is NOT ‘Rich’ – it’s Greg.  And no, I am not watching the football game.  Are we clear on who this is yet?"

[GULP]  Clear as mud.

At this moment I snapped. I couldn’t do it anymore and without another thought, I hang up the phone on him.  Teresa, who is watching, rolls off the couch in hysterical laughter, "Oh my Gawd, did you just hang up on him???"  "Yes -- I didn’t know what else to say!"  I replied with a shrug.  I think I was in shock - who's life could have this much bad luck in 3 days?

Later that week I receive one dozen black roses with a laminated $10.00 "Fuc** you" card from Greg.  Which, in retrospect, made me glad we weren’t going to be dating.  I think he spent more on his FU parting gift then he ever did on me.

Gary never saw me again, or returned my calls or letters.  I called Tom and told him I wouldn’t see one of Rich’s friends - it wasn’t the right thing to do.  In the end, Rich won.  Rich thought the whole thing was hilarious and said he is a patient guy who was determined to win - regardless.

I loved Rich, he was a great friend and companion during my 20’s, but from time to time I often wondered what would have happened if I had been able to continue seeing Gary.  From the dating 'too many' experience I vowed never to multiple date again, because I am terrible at it.  I figure everyone deserves a one date at a time plan with me.  Except, every time I try this – along comes a bunch of other guys calling, emailing, showing up at my door unannounced...

Is this the curse of Gary?  Maybe I need a really good Garyexorsism...?...

Do I really have to date?

Until next time-

C

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ARE YOU A TRUE REDHEAD?

A redhead goes to see her doctor.
"Doctor I hurt all over.” she cries.
"How is that?"  The Doctor asks.
"Every place I touch, hurts” she replies.
"That is very interesting, show me" the Doctor continues.
The redhead points to her elbow, then screams in pain.
"That is indeed interesting, show me again" the Doctor responds.
The redhead points to her knee then screams in obvious pain.  The doctor examines her a bit, then looks at her and asks, "You are not a true redhead are you?"
She answers, "No, actually I die my hair.  I am a blonde, why?"
"I thought so", the Doctor answers, "You have a broken finger".